This is a modern-English version of Memoirs of Napoleon Bonaparte — Complete, originally written by Bourrienne, Louis Antoine Fauvelet de. It has been thoroughly updated, including changes to sentence structure, words, spelling, and grammar—to ensure clarity for contemporary readers, while preserving the original spirit and nuance. If you click on a paragraph, you will see the original text that we modified, and you can toggle between the two versions.

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      MEMOIRS OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE,

 Complete
    












      By LOUIS ANTOINE FAUVELET DE BOURRIENNE
    










      His Private Secretary
    














      Edited by R. W. Phipps Colonel, Late Royal Artillery
    



      1891
    












titlepage (76K)







 







 

















      CONTENTS
    







 PREFACE 1836 EDITION. 







 PREFACE 1885 EDITION. 







 AUTHOR'S INTRODUCTION. 







 NOTE. 












 VOLUME I. — 1769-1800  











 CHAPTER 1 


1769-1783. Authentic date of Bonaparte's birth—His family
          ruined by the Jesuits—His taste for military amusements—Sham siege at
          the College of Brienne—The porter's wife and Napoleon—My intimacy with
          Bonaparte at college—His love for the mathematics, and his dislike of
          Latin—He defends Paoli and blames his father—He is ridiculed by his
          comrades—Ignorance of the monks—Distribution of prizes at
          Brienne—Madame de Montesson and the Duke of Orleans—Report of M.
          Keralio on Bonaparte—He leaves Brienne.
        





 CHAPTER II. 


1784-1794. Bonaparte enters the Military College of Paris—He
          urges me to embrace the military profession—His report on the state of
          the Military School of Paris—He obtains a commission—I set off for
          Vienna—Return to Paris, where I again meet Bonaparte—His singular
          plans for raising money—Louis XVI, with the red cap on his head— The
          10th of August—My departure for Stuttgart—Bonaparte goes to Corsica—My
          name inscribed on the list of emigrants—Bonaparte at the siege of
          Toulon—Le Souper de Beaucaire—Napoleon's mission to Genoa—His
          arrest—His autographical justification —Duroc's first connection with
          Bonaparte.
        





 CHAPTER III. 


1794-1795. Proposal to send Bonaparte to La Vendée—He is struck
          off the list of general officers—Salicetti—Joseph's marriage with
          Mademoiselle Clary—Bonaparte's wish to go to Turkey—Note explaining
          the plan of his proposed expedition—Madame Bourrienne's character of
          Bonaparte, and account of her husband's arrest—Constitution of the
          year III— The 13th Vendemiaire—Bonaparte appointed second in command
          of the army of the interior—Eulogium of Bonaparte by Barras, and its
          consequences—St. Helena manuscript.
        





 CHAPTER IV. 


1795-1797. On my return to Paris I meet Bonaparte—His interview
          with Josephine —Bonaparte's marriage, and departure from Paris ten
          days after— Portrait and character of Josephine—Bonaparte's dislike of
          national property—Letter to Josephine—Letter of General Colli, and
          Bonaparte's reply—Bonaparte refuses to serve with Kellerman— Marmont's
          letters—Bonaparte's order to me to join the army—My departure from
          Sens for Italy—Insurrection of the Venetian States.
        





 CHAPTER V 


1797. Signature of the preliminaries of peace—Fall of Venice—My
          arrival and reception at Leoben—Bonaparte wishes to pursue his
          success— The Directory opposes him—He wishes to advance on
          Vienna—Movement of the army of the Sombre-et-Mouse—Bonaparte's
          dissatisfaction— Arrival at Milan—We take up our residence at
          Montebello—Napoleon's judgment respecting Dandolo and Melzi.
        





 CHAPTER VI. 


1797. Napoleon's correspondence—Release of French prisoners at
          Olmutz— Negotiations with Austria—Bonaparte's dissatisfaction—Letter
          of complaint from Bonaparte to the Executive Directory—Note respecting
          the affairs of Venice and the Club of Clichy, written by Bonaparte and
          circulated in the army—Intercepted letter of the Emperor Francis.
        





 CHAPTER VII. 


1797. Unfounded reports—Carnot—Capitulation of Mantua—General
          Clarke— The Directory yields to Bonaparte—Berthier—Arrival of Eugène
          Beauharnais at Milan—Comte Delannay d'Entraigues—His interview with
          Bonaparte—Seizure of his papers—Copy of one describing a conversation
          between him and Comte de Montgaillard—The Emperor Francis—The Prince
          de Condé and General Pichegru.
        





 CHAPTER VIII. 


1797. The royalists of the interior—Bonaparte's intention of
          marching on Paris with 25,000 men—His animosity against the emigrants
          and the Clichy Club—His choice between the two parties of the
          Directory— Augereau's order of the day against the word
          'Monsieur'—Bonaparte wishes to be made one of the five Directors—He
          supports the majority of the Directory—La Vallette, Augereau, and
          Bernadotte sent to Paris—Interesting correspondence relative to the
          18th Fructidor.
        





 CHAPTER IX. 


1797. Bonaparte's joy at the result of the 18th Fructidor.—His
          letter to Augereau—His correspondence with the Directory and proposed
          resignation—Explanation of the Directory—Bottot—General Clarke— Letter
          from Madame Bacciocchi to Bonaparte—Autograph letter of the Emperor
          Francis to Bonaparte—Arrival of Count Cobentzel—Autograph note of
          Bonaparte on the conditions of peace.
        





 CHAPTER X. 


1797. Influence of the 18th Fructidor on the
          negotiations—Bonaparte's suspicion of Bottot—His complaints respecting
          the non-erasure of Bourrienne—Bourrienne's conversation with the
          Marquis of Gallo—Bottot writes from Paris to Bonaparte on the part of
          the Directory Agents of the Directory employed to watch
          Bonaparte—Influence of the weather on the conclusion of
          peace—Remarkable observation of Bonaparte—Conclusion of the treaty—The
          Directory dissatisfied with the terms of the peace—Bonaparte's
          predilection for representative government—Opinion on Bonaparte.
        





 CHAPTER XI. 


1797 Effect of the 18th Fructidor on the peace—The standard of
          the army of Italy—Honours rendered to the memory of General Hoche and
          of Virgil at Mantua—Remarkable letter—In passing through Switzerland
          Bonaparte visits the field of Morat—Arrival at Rastadt—Letter from the
          Directory calling Bonaparte to Paris—Intrigues against Josephine—Grand
          ceremony on the reception of Bonaparte by the Directory—The
          theatres—Modesty of Bonaparte—An assassination—Bonaparte's opinion of
          the Parisians—His election to the National Institute—Letter to
          Camus—Projects—Reflections.
        





 CHAPTER XII. 


1798. Bonaparte's departure from Paris—His return—The Egyptian
          expedition projected—M. de Talleyrand—General Desaix—Expedition
          against Malta—Money taken at Berne—Bonaparte's ideas respecting the
          East—Monge—Non-influence of the Directory—Marriages of Marmont and La
          Valette—Bonaparte's plan of colonising Egypt—His camp
          library—Orthographical blunders—Stock of wines—Bonaparte's arrival at
          Toulon—Madame Bonaparte's fall from a balcony—Execution of an old
          man—Simon.
        





 CHAPTER XIII. 


1798. Departure of the squadron—Arrival at
          Malta—Dolomieu—General Barguay d'Hilliers—Attack on the western part
          of the island— Caffarelli's remark—Deliverance of the Turkish
          prisoners—Nelson's pursuit of the French fleet—Conversations on
          board—How Bonaparte passed his, time—Questions to the
          Captains—Propositions discussed —Morning music—Proclamation—Admiral
          Brueys—The English fleet avoided Dangerous landing—Bonaparte and his
          fortune—Alexandria taken—Kléber wounded—Bonaparte's entrance into
          Alexandria.
        





 CHAPTER XIV. 


1798. The mirage—Skirmishes with the Arabs—Mistake of General
          Desaix's division—Wretchedness of a rich sheik—Combat beneath the
          General's window—The flotilla on the Nile—Its distress and danger—The
          battle of Chebreisse—Defeat of the Mamelukes—Bonaparte's reception of
          me—Letter to Louis Bonaparte—Success of the French army— Triumphal
          entrance into Cairo—Civil and military organisation of
          Cairo—Bonaparte's letter to his brother Joseph—Plan of colonisation.
        





 CHAPTER XV. 


1798. Establishment of a divan in each Egyptian province—Desaix
          in Upper Egypt—Ibrahim Bey beaten by Bonaparte at Salehye'h—Sulkowsky
          wounded—Disaster at Aboukir—Dissatisfaction and murmurs of the
          army—Dejection of the General-in-Chief—His plan respecting Egypt
          —Meditated descent upon England—Bonaparte's censure of the
          Directory—Intercepted correspondence.
        





 CHAPTER XVI. 


1798. The Egyptian Institute—Festival of the birth of
          Mahomet—Bonaparte's prudent respect for the Mahometan religion—His
          Turkish dress—Djezzar, the Pasha of Acre—Thoughts of a campaign in
          Germany—Want of news from France—Bonaparte and Madame Fourés—The
          Egyptian fortune-teller, M. Berthollet, and the Sheik El Bekri—The air
          "Marlbrook"—Insurrection in Cairo—Death of General Dupuis—Death of
          Sulkowsky—The insurrection quelled—Nocturnal executions—Destruction of
          a tribe of Arabs—Convoy of sick and wounded—Massacre of the French in
          Sicily—projected expedition to Syria—Letter to Tippoo Saib.
        





 CHAPTER XVII. 


1798-1799. Bonaparte's departure for Suez—Crossing the
          desert—Passage of the Red Sea—The fountain of Moses—The Cenobites of
          Mount Sinai—Danger in recrossing the Red Sea—Napoleon's return to
          Cairo—Money borrowed at Genoa—New designs upon Syria—Dissatisfaction
          of the Ottoman Porte—Plan for invading Asia—Gigantic schemes—General
          Berthier's permission to return to France—His romantic love and the
          adored portrait—He gives up his permission to return home—Louis
          Bonaparte leaves Egypt—The first Cashmere shawl in France— Intercepted
          correspondence—Departure for Syria—Fountains of Messoudish—Bonaparte
          jealous—Discontent of the troops—El-Arish taken—Aspect of
          Syria—Ramleh—Jerusalem.
        





 CHAPTER XVIII 


1799. Arrival at Jaffa—The siege—Beauharnais and Croisier—Four
          thousand prisoners—Scarcity of provisions—Councils of war—Dreadful
          necessity—The massacre—The plague—Lannes and the mountaineers—
          Barbarity of Djezarr—Arrival at St Jean d'Acre, and abortive
          attacks—Sir Sidney Smith—Death of Caffarelli—Duroc wounded— Rash
          bathing—Insurrections in Egypt.
        





 CHAPTER XIX. 


1799. The siege of Acre raised—Attention to names in
          bulletins—Gigantic project—The Druses—Mount Carmel—The wounded and
          infected— Order to march on foot—Loss of our cannon—A Nablousian fires
          at Bonaparte—Return to Jaffa—Bonaparte visits the plague hospital—A
          potion given to the sick—Bonaparte's statement at St. Helena.
        





 CHAPTER XX. 


1799. Murat and Moarad Bey at the Natron Lakes—Bonaparte's
          departure for the Pyramids—Sudden appearance of an Arab messenger—News
          of the landing of the Turks at Aboukir—Bonaparte marches against
          them—They are immediately attacked and destroyed in the battle of
          Aboukir—Interchange of communication with the English—Sudden
          determination to return to Europe—Outfit of two frigates— Bonaparte's
          dissimulation—His pretended journey to the Delta— Generous behaviour
          of Lanusee—Bonaparte's artifice—His bad treatment of General Kléber.
        





 CHAPTER XXI 


1799. Our departure from Egypt—Nocturnal embarkation—M.
          Parseval Grandmaison—On course—Adverse winds—Fear of the English—
          Favourable weather—Vingt-et-un—Chess—We land at Ajaccio— Bonaparte's
          pretended relations—Family domains—Want of money— Battle of Novi—Death
          of Joubert—Visionary schemes—Purchase of a boat—Departure from
          Corsica—The English squadron—Our escape— The roads of Fréjus—Our
          landing in France—The plague or the Austrians—Joy of the people—The
          sanitary laws—Bonaparte falsely accused.
        





 CHAPTER XXII. 


1799. Effect produced by Bonaparte's return—His justification—
          Melancholy letter to my wife—Bonaparte's intended dinner at Sens—
          Louis Bonaparte and Josephine—He changes his intended route—
          Melancholy situation of the provinces—Necessity of a change—
          Bonaparte's ambitious views—Influence of popular applause— Arrival in
          Paris—His reception of Josephine—Their reconciliation— Bonaparte's
          visit to the Directory—His contemptuous treatment of Sieyès.
        





 CHAPTER XXIII 


1799. Moreau and Bernadotte—Bonaparte's opinion of
          Bernadotte—False report—The crown of Sweden and the Constitution of
          the year III.— Intrigues of Bonaparte's brothers—Angry conversation
          between Bonaparte and Bernadotte—Bonaparte's version—Josephine's
          version— An unexpected visit—The Manege Club—Salicetti and Joseph
          Bonaparte —Bonaparte invites himself to breakfast with
          Bernadotte—Country excursion—Bernadotte dines with Bonaparte—The plot
          and conspiracy —Conduct of Lucien—Dinner given to Bonaparte by the
          Council of the Five Hundred—Bonaparte's wish to be chosen a member of
          the Directory—His reconciliation with Sieyès—Offer made by the
          Directory to Bonaparte—He is falsely accused by Barras.
        





 CHAPTER XXIV. 


1799. Cambacérès and Lebrun—Gohier deceived—My nocturnal visit
          to Barras —The command of the army given to Bonaparte—The morning of
          the 18th Brumaire—Meeting of the generals at Bonaparte's house—
          Bernadotte's firmness—Josephine's interest, for Madame Gohier—
          Disappointment of the Directors—Review in the gardens of the
          Tuileries—Bonaparte's harangue—Proclamation of the Ancients— Moreau,
          jailer of the Luxembourg—My conversation with La Vallette— Bonaparte
          at St. Cloud.
        





 CHAPTER XXV. 


1799. The two Councils—Barras' letter—Bonaparte at the Council
          of the Five Hundred—False reports—Tumultuous sitting—Lucien's speech—
          He resigns the Presidency of the Council of the Five Hundred—He is
          carried out by grenadiers—He harangues the troops—A dramatic scene
          —Murat and his soldiers drive out the Five Hundred—Council of
          Thirty—Consular commission—Decree—Return to Paris—Conversation with
          Bonaparte and Josephine respecting Gohier and Bernadotte—The directors
          Gohier and Moulins imprisoned.
        





 CHAPTER XXVI. 


1799. General approbation of the 18th Brumaire—Distress of the
          treasury— M. Collot's generosity—Bonaparte's ingratitude—Gohier set at
          Liberty—Constitution of the year VIII.—The Senate, Tribunate, and
          Council of State—Notes required on the character of candidates—
          Bonaparte's love of integrity and talent—Influence of habit over
          him—His hatred of the Tribunate—Provisional concessions—The first
          Consular Ministry—Mediocrity of La Place—Proscription lists—
          Cambacérès report—M. Moreau de Worms—Character of Sieyès— Bonaparte at
          the Luxembourg—Distribution of the day and visits— Lebrun's
          opposition—Bonaparte's singing—His boyish tricks— Assumption of the
          titles "Madame" and "Monseigneur"—The men of the Revolution and the
          partisans of the Bourbons—Bonaparte's fears— Confidential notes on
          candidates for office and the assemblies.
        





 CHAPTER XXVII. 


1799-1800. Difficulties of a new Government—State of
          Europe—Bonaparte's wish for peace—M. de Talleyrand Minister for
          Foreign Affairs— Negotiations with England and Austria—Their
          failure—Bonaparte's views on the East—His sacrifices to policy—General
          Bonaparte denounced to the First Consul—Kléber's letter to the
          Directory— Accounts of the Egyptian expedition published in the
          Moniteur— Proclamation to the army of the East—Favour and disgrace of
          certain individuals accounted for.
        





 CHAPTER XXVIII. 


1800. Great and common men—Portrait of Bonaparte—The varied
          expression of his countenance—His convulsive shrug—Presentiment of his
          corpulency—Partiality for bathing—His temperance—His alleged
          capability of dispensing with sleep—Good and bad news—Shaving, and
          reading the journals—Morning business—Breakfast—Coffee and snuff
          —Bonaparte's idea of his own situation—His ill opinion of mankind —His
          dislike of a 'tête-à-tête'—His hatred of the Revolutionists —Ladies in
          white—Anecdotes—Bonaparte's tokens of kindness, and his droll
          compliments—His fits of ill humour—Sound of bells— Gardens of
          Malmaison—His opinion of medicine—His memory— His poetic
          insensibility—His want of gallantry—Cards and conversation—The
          dress-coat and black cravat—Bonaparte's payments —His religious
          ideas—His obstinacy.
        





 CHAPTER XXIX. 


1800. Bonaparte's laws—Suppression of the festival of the 21st
          of January—Officials visits—The Temple—Louis XVI. and Sir Sidney
          Smith—Peculation during the Directory—Loan raised—Modest budget —The
          Consul and the Member of the Institute—The figure of the
          Republic—Duroc's missions—The King of Prussia—The Emperor
          Alexander—General Latour-Foissac—Arbitrary decree—Company of players
          for Egypt—Singular ideas respecting literary property— The preparatory
          Consulate—The journals—Sabres and muskets of honour—The First Consul
          and his Comrade—The bust of Brutus— Statues in the gallery of the
          Tuileries—Sections of the Council of State—Costumes of public
          functionaries—Masquerades—The opera-balls—Recall of the exiles.
        





 CHAPTER XXX 


1800. Bonaparte and Paul I.—Lord Whitworth—Baron Sprengporten's
          arrival at Paris—Paul's admiration of Bonaparte—Their close connection
          and correspondence—The royal challenge—General Mack—The road to
          Malmaison—Attempts at assassination—Death of Washington—National
          mourning—Ambitious calculation—M. de Fontanel, the skilful orator
          —Fete at the Temple of Mars—Murat's marriage with Caroline
          Bonaparte—Madame Bonaparte's pearls.
        





 CHAPTER XXXI. 


1800. Police on police—False information—Dexterity of
          Fouché—Police agents deceived—Money ill applied—Inutility of political
          police— Bonaparte's opinion—General considerations—My appointment to
          the Prefecture of police.
        





 CHAPTER XXXII. 


1800. Successful management of parties—Precautions—Removal from
          the Luxembourg to the Tuileries—Hackney-coaches and the Consul's white
          horses—Royal custom and an inscription—The review—Bonaparte's homage
          to the standards—Talleyrand in Bonaparte's cabinet— Bonaparte's
          aversion to the cap of liberty even in painting—The state bed—Our
          cabinet.
        





 CHAPTER XXXIII. 


1800. The Tuileries—Royalty in perspective—Remarkable
          observation— Presentations—Assumption of the prerogative of mercy—M.
          Defeu— M. de Frotte—Georges Cadoudal's audience of Bonaparte—Rapp's
          precaution and Bonaparte's confidence—The dignity of France— Napper
          Tandy and Blackwell delivered up by the Senate of Hamburg—
          Contribution in the Egyptian style—Valueless bill—Fifteen thousand
          francs in the drawer of a secretaire—Josephine's debts—Evening walks
          with Bonaparte.
        





 CHAPTER XXXIV. 


1800. War and monuments—Influence of the recollections of
          Egypt— First improvements in Paris—Malmaison too little—St. Cloud
          taken —The Pont des Arts—Business prescribed for me by Bonaparte—
          Pecuniary remuneration—The First Consul's visit to the Pritanée— His
          examination of the pupils—Consular pensions—Tragical death of
          Miackzinski—Introduction of vaccination—Recall of the members of the
          Constituent Assembly—The "canary" volunteers—Tronchet and
          Target—Liberation of the Austrian prisoners—Longchamps and sacred
          music.
        





 CHAPTER XXXV 


1800. The Memorial of St. Helena—Louis XVIII.'s first letter to
          Bonaparte —Josephine, Hortense, and the Faubourg St. Germain— Madame
          Bonaparte and the fortune-teller—Louis XVIII's second letter
          —Bonaparte's answer—Conversation respecting the recall of Louis
          XVIII.—Peace and war—A battle fought with pins—Genoa and Melas—
          Realisation of Bonaparte's military plans—Ironical letter to
          Berthier—Departure from Paris—Instructions to Lucien and
          Cambacérès—Joseph Bonaparte appointed Councillor of State— Travelling
          conversation—Alexander and Caesar judged by Bonaparte.
        











 VOLUME II. —1800-1805











 CHAPTER I. 


1800. Bonaparte's confidence in the army—'Ma belle' France—The
          convent of Bernadins—Passage of Mont St. Bernard—Arrival at the
          convent— Refreshments distributed to the soldiers—Mont
          Albaredo—Artillery dismounted—The fort of Bard—Fortunate
          temerity—Bonaparte and Melas—The spy—Bonaparte's opinion of M.
          Necker—Capitulation of Genoa—Intercepted despatch—Lannes at
          Montebello—Boudet succeeded by Desaix—Coolness of the First Consul to
          M. Collot—Conversation and recollections—The battle of Marengo—General
          Kellerman—Supper sent from the Convent del Bosco—Particulars
          respecting the death of Desaix—The Prince of Lichtenstein—Return to
          Milan—Savary and Rapp.
        





 CHAPTER II. 


1800. Suspension of hostilities—Letter to the Consuls—Second
          Occupation of Milan—Bonaparte and Massena—Public acclamations and the
          voice of Josephine—Stray recollections—Organization of Piedmont—Sabres
          of honour—Rewards to the army of the Rhine—Pretended army of
          reserve—General Zach—Anniversary of the 14th of July—Monument to
          Desaix—Desaix and Foy—Bonaparte's speech in the Temple of Mars—
          Arrival of the Consular Guard—The bones of marshal Turenne— Lucien's
          successful speech—Letter from Lucien to Joseph Bonaparte— The First
          Consul's return to Paris—Accidents on the road— Difficulty of gaining
          lasting fame—Assassination of Kléber— Situation of the terrace on
          which Kléber was stabbed—Odious rumours —Arrival of a courier—A night
          scene—Bonaparte's distress on perusing the despatches from Egypt.
        





 CHAPTER III. 


1800. Bonaparte's wish to negotiate with England and Austria—
          An emigrant's letter—Domestic details—The bell—Conspiracy of Ceracchi,
          Arena, Harrel, and others—Bonaparte's visit to the opera
          —Arrests—Rariel appointed commandant of Vincennes—The Duc d'Enghien's
          foster-sister—The 3d Nivoise—First performance of Haydn's
          "Creation"—The infernal machine—Congratulatory addresses— Arbitrary
          condemnations—M. Tissot erased from the list of the banished—M.
          Truguet—Bonapartes' hatred of the Jacobins explained— The real
          criminals discovered—Justification of Fouché—Execution of St. Regent
          and Carbon—Caesar, Cromwell, and Bonaparte—Conversation between
          Bonaparte and Fouché—Pretended anger—Fouché's dissimulation—Lucien's
          resignation—His embassy to Spain—War between Spain and Portugal—Dinner
          at Fouché's—Treachery of Joseph Bonaparte—A trick upon the First
          Consul—A three days' coolness— Reconciliation.
        





 CHAPTER IV. 


1800-1801 Austria bribed by England—M. de St. Julien in
          Paris—Duroc's mission—Rupture of the armistice—Surrender of three
          garrisons— M. Otto in London—Battle of Hohenlinden—Madame Moreau and
          Madame Hulot—Bonaparte's ill-treatment of the latter—Congress of
          Luneville—General Clarke—M. Maret—Peace between France and
          Austria—Joseph Bonaparte's speculations in the funds— M. de
          Talleyrand's advice—Post-office regulation—Cambacérès— Importance of
          good dinners in the affairs of Government—Steamboats and
          intriguers—Death of Paul I.—New thoughts of the reestablishment of
          Poland—Duroc at St. Petersburg—Bribe rejected— Death of Abercromby.
        





 CHAPTER V. 


1801-1802. An experiment of royalty—Louis de Bourbon and Maria
          Louisa, of Spain—Creation of the kingdom of Etruria—The Count of
          Leghorn in Paris—Entertainments given him—Bonaparte's opinion of the
          King of Etruria—His departure for Florence, and bad reception there—
          Negotiations with the Pope—Bonaparte's opinion on religion—Te Deum at
          Notre Dame—Behaviour of the people in the church—Irreligion of the
          Consular Court—Augereau's remark on the Te Deum—First Mass at St.
          Cloud-Mass in Bonaparte's apartments—Talleyrand relieved from his
          clerical vows—My appointment to the Council of State.
        





 CHAPTER VI. 


1802. Last chapter on Egypt—Admiral Gantheaume—Way to please
          Bonaparte— General Menou's flattery and his reward—Davoust—Bonaparte
          regrets giving the command to Menou, who is defeated by
          Abercromby—Otto's negotiation in London—Preliminaries of peace.
        





 CHAPTER VII. 


1802. The most glorious epoch for France—The First Consul's
          desire of peace—Malta ceded and kept—Bonaparte and the English
          journals— Mr. Addington's letter to the First Consul—Bonaparte
          prosecutes Peltier—Leclerc's expedition to St. Domingo—Toussaint
          Louverture— Death of Leclerc—Rochambeau, his successor, abandons St.
          Domingo— First symptoms of Bonaparte's malady—Josephine's intrigues
          for the marriage of Hortense—Falsehood contradicted.
        





 CHAPTER VIII. 


1802-1803. Bonaparte President of the Cisalpine
          Republic—Meeting of the deputation at Lyons—Malta and the English—My
          immortality—Fete given by Madame Murat—Erasures from the emigrant
          list—Restitution of property—General Sebastiani—Lord
          Whitworth—Napoleon's first symptoms of disease—Corvisart—Influence of
          physical suffering on Napoleon's temper—Articles for the
          Moniteur—General Andreossi— M. Talleyrand's pun—Jerome
          Bonaparte—Extravagance of Bonaparte's brothers—M. Collot and the navy
          contract.
        





 CHAPTER IX. 


1802. Proverbial falsehood of bulletins—M. Doublet—Creation of
          the Legion of Honour—Opposition to it in the Council and other
          authorities of the State—The partisans of an hereditary system— The
          question of the Consulship for life.
        





 CHAPTER X. 


1802. General Bernadotte pacifies La vendee and suppresses a
          mutiny at Tours—Bonaparte's injustice towards him—A premeditated
          scene— Advice given to Bernadotte, and Bonaparte disappointed—The
          First Consul's residence at St. Cloud—His rehearsals for the Empire—
          His contempt of mankind—Mr. Fox and Bonaparte—Information of plans of
          assassination—A military dinner given by Bonaparte—Moreau not of the
          party—Effect of the 'Senates-consultes' on the Consulate for
          life—Journey to Plombieres—Previous scene between Lucien and
          Josephine—Theatrical representations at Neuilly and Malmaison— Loss of
          a watch, and honesty rewarded—Canova at St. Cloud— Bonaparte's
          reluctance to stand for a model.
        





 CHAPTER XI. 


1802. Bonaparte's principle as to the change of
          Ministers—Fouché—His influence with the First Consul—Fouché's
          dismissal—The departments of Police and Justice united under
          Regnier—Madame Bonaparte's regret for the dismissal of Fouché—Family
          scenes—Madame Louis Bonaparte's pregnancy—False and infamous reports
          to Josephine— Legitimacy and a bastard—Raederer reproached by
          Josephine—Her visit to Ruel—Long conversation with her—Assertion at
          St. Helena respecting a great political fraud.
        





 CHAPTER XII. 


1802. Citizen Fesch created Cardinal Fesch—Arts and
          industry—Exhibition in the Louvre—Aspect of Paris in 1802—The Medicean
          Venus and the Velletrian Pallas—Signs of general prosperity—Rise of
          the funds— Irresponsible Ministers—The Bourbons—The military
          Government— Annoying familiarity of Lannes—Plan laid for his disgrace—
          Indignation of Lannes—His embassy to Portugal—The delayed
          despatch—Bonaparte's rage—I resign my situation—Duroc— I breakfast
          with Bonaparte—Duroc's intercession—Temporary reconciliation.
        





 CHAPTER XIII. 


1802-1803. The Concordat and the Legion of Honour—The Council
          of State and the Tribunate—Discussion on the word
          'subjects'—Chenier—Chabot de l'Allier's proposition to the
          Tribunate—The marked proof of national gratitude—Bonaparte's duplicity
          and self-command—Reply to the 'Senatus-consulte'—The people
          consulted—Consular decree— The most, or the least—M. de Vanblanc's
          speech—Bonaparte's reply— The address of the Tribunate—Hopes and
          predictions thwarted.
        





 CHAPTER XIV 


1802-1803. Departure for Malmaison—Unexpected question relative
          to the Bourbons—Distinction between two opposition parties—New
          intrigues of Lucien—Camille Jordan's pamphlet seized—Vituperation
          against the liberty of the press—Revisal of the Constitution—New
          'Senatus-consulte—Deputation from the Senate—Audience of the
          Diplomatic Body—Josephine's melancholy—The discontented—Secret
          meetings—Fouché and the police agents—The Code Napoleon— Bonaparte's
          regular attendance at the Council of State—His knowledge of mankind,
          and the science of government—Napoleon's first sovereign act—His visit
          to the Senate—The Consular procession—Polite etiquette—The Senate and
          the Council of State— Complaints against Lucien—The deaf and dumb
          assembly—Creation of senatorships.
        





 CHAPTER XV 


1802. The intoxication of great men—Unlucky zeal—MM. Maret,
          Champagny, and Savary—M. de Talleyrand's real services—Postponement of
          the execution of orders—Fouché and the Revolution—The Royalist
          committee—The charter first planned during the Consulate—Mission to
          Coblentz—Influence of the Royalists upon Josephine—The statue and the
          pedestal—Madame de Genlis' romance of Madame de la Valliere—The Legion
          of Honour and the carnations—Influence of the Faubourg St.
          Germain—Inconsiderate step taken by Bonaparte—Louis XVIII's
          indignation—Prudent advice of the Abbe Andre—Letter from Louis XVIII.
          to Bonaparte—Council held at Neuilly—The letter delivered—Indifference
          of Bonaparte, and satisfaction of the Royalists.
        





 CHAPTER XVI 


1802. The day after my disgrace—Renewal of my
          duties—Bonaparte's affected regard for me—Offer of an assistant—M. de
          Meneval—My second rupture with Bonaparte—The Duc de Rovigo's account
          of it— Letter from M. de Barbe Marbois—Real causes of my separation
          from the First Consul—Postscript to the letter of M. de Barbe Marbois—
          The black cabinet—Inspection of letters dining the Consulate— I retire
          to St. Cloud—Communications from M. de Meneval—A week's conflict
          between friendship and pride—My formal dismissal—Petty revenge—My
          request to visit England—Monosyllabic answer—Wrong suspicion—Burial of
          my papers—Communication from Duroc—My letter to the First Consul—The
          truth acknowledged.
        





 CHAPTER XVII. 


1803. The First Consul's presentiments respecting the duration
          of peace— England's uneasiness at the prosperity of France—Bonaparte's
          real wish for war—Concourse of foreigners in Paris—Bad faith of
          England—Bonaparte and Lord Whitworth—Relative position of France and
          England-Bonaparte's journey to the seaboard departments— Breakfast at
          Compiegne—Father Berton—Irritation excited by the presence of
          Bouquet—Father Berton's derangement and death—Rapp ordered to send for
          me—Order countermanded.
        





 CHAPTER XVIII. 


1803. Vast works undertaken—The French and the Roman
          soldiers—Itinerary of Bonaparte's journeys to the coast—Twelve hours
          on horseback— Discussions in Council—Opposition of Truguet—Bonaparte'a
          opinion on the point under discussion—Two divisions of the
          world—Europe a province—Bonaparte's jealousy of the dignity of
          France—The Englishman in the dockyard of Brest—Public audience at the
          Tuilleries—The First Consul's remarks upon England—His wish to enjoy
          the good opinion of the English people—Ball at Malmaison— Lines on
          Hortense's dancing—Singular motive for giving the ball.
        





 CHAPTER XIX. 


1803. Mr. Pitt—Motive of his going out of office—Error of the
          English Government—Pretended regard for the Bourbons—Violation of the
          treaty of Amiens—Reciprocal accusations—Malta—Lord Whitworth's
          departure—Rome and Carthage—Secret satisfaction of Bonaparte— Message
          to the Senate, the Legislative Body, and the Tribunate— The King of
          England's renunciation of the title of King of France— Complaints of
          the English Government—French agents in British ports —Views of France
          upon Turkey—Observation made by Bonaparte to the Legislative Body—Its
          false interpretation—Conquest of Hanover— The Duke of Cambridge
          caricatured—The King of England and the Elector of Hanover—First
          address to the clergy—Use of the word "Monsieur"—The Republican weeks
          and months.
        





 CHAPTER XX. 


1803. Presentation of Prince Borghese to Bonaparte—Departure
          for Belgium Revival of a royal custom—The swans of Amiens—Change of
          formula in the acts of Government—Company of performers in Bonaparte's
          suite—Revival of old customs—Division of the institute into four
          classes—Science and literature—Bonaparte's hatred of literary men
          —Ducis—Bernardin de Saint-Pierre—Chenier and Lemercier— Explanation of
          Bonaparte's aversion to literature—Lalande and his
          dictionary—Education in the hands of Government—M. de Roquelaure,
          Archbishop of Malines.
        





 CHAPTER XXI. 


1804. The Temple—The intrigues of Europe—Prelude to the
          Continental system—Bombardment of Granville—My conversation with the
          First Consul on the projected invasion of England—Fauche Borel—Moreau
          and Pichegru—Fouché's manoeuvres—The Abbe David and Lajolais— Fouché's
          visit to St. Cloud—Regnier outwitted by Fouché— My interview with the
          First Consul—His indignation at the reports respecting
          Hortense—Contradiction of these calumnies—The brothers Faucher—Their
          execution—The First Consul's levee—My conversation with
          Duroc—Conspiracy of Georges, Moreau, and Pichegru—Moreau averse to the
          restoration of the Bourbons—Bouvet de Lozier's attempted
          suicide—Arrest of Moreau—Declaration of MM. de Polignac and de
          Riviere—Connivance of the police—Arrest of M. Carbonnet and his
          nephew.
        





 CHAPTER XXII. 


1804. The events of 1804—Death of the Duc d'Enghien—Napoleon's
          arguments at St. Helena—Comparison of dates—Possibility of my having
          saved the Duc d'Enghien's life—Advice given to the Duc d'Enghien—Sir
          Charles Stuart—Delay of the Austrian Cabinet—Pichegru and the
          mysterious being—M. Massias—The historians of St. Helena— Bonaparte's
          threats against the emigrants and M. Cobentzel— Singular adventure of
          Davoust's secretary—The quartermaster— The brigand of La Vendée.
        





 CHAPTER XXIII. 


1804. General Ordener's mission—Arrest of the Duc
          d'Enghien—Horrible night-scene—-Harrel's account of the death of the
          Prince—Order for digging the grave—The foster-sister of the Duc
          d'Enghien—Reading the sentence—The lantern—General Savary—The faithful
          dog and the police—My visit to Malmaison—Josephine's grief— The Duc
          d'Enghien's portrait and lock of hair—Savary's emotion— M. de
          Chateaubriand's resignation—M. de Chateaubriand's connection with
          Bonaparte—Madame Bacciocchi and M. de Fontanes—Cardinal Fesch
          —Dedication of the second edition of the 'Genie du Christianisme' —M.
          de Chateaubriand's visit to the First Consul on the morning of the Duc
          d'Enghien's death—Consequences of the Duc d'Enghien's death—Change of
          opinion in the provinces—The Gentry of the Chateaus—Effect of the Duc
          d'Enghien's death on foreign Courts— Remarkable words of Mr.
          Pitt—Louis XVIII. sends back the insignia of the Golden Fleece to the
          King of Spain.
        





 CHAPTER XXIV. 


1804. Pichegru betrayed—His arrest—His conduct to his old aide
          de camp— Account of Pichegru's family, and his education at Brienne—
          Permission to visit M. Carbonnet—The prisoners in the Temple— Absurd
          application of the word "brigand"—Moreau and the state of public
          opinion respecting him—Pichegru's firmness—Pichegru strangled in
          prison—Public opinion at the time—Report on the death of Pichegru.
        





 CHAPTER XXV. 


1804. Arrest of Georges—The fruiterer's daughter of the Rue de
          La Montagne—St. Genevieve—Louis Bonaparte's visit to the Temple—
          General Lauriston—Arrest of Villeneuve and Barco—Villeneuve
          wounded—Moreau during his imprisonment—Preparations for leaving the
          Temple—Remarkable change in Georges—Addresses and
          congratulations—Speech of the First Consul forgotten—Secret
          negotiations with the Senate—Official proposition of Bonaparte's
          elevation to the Empire—Sitting of the Council of State— Interference
          of Bonaparte—Individual votes—Seven against twenty— His subjects and
          his people—Appropriateness of the title of Emperor—Communications
          between Bonaparte and the Senate—Bonaparte first called Sire by
          Cambacérès—First letter signed by Napoleon as Emperor—Grand levee at
          the Tuileries—Napoleon's address to the Imperial Guard—Organic
          'Senatus-consulte'—Revival of old formulas and titles—The
          Republicanism of Lucien—The Spanish Princess— Lucien's clandestine
          marriage—Bonaparte's influence on the German Princes—Intrigues of
          England—Drake at Munich—Project for overthrowing Bonaparte's
          Government—Circular from the Minister for Foreign Affairs to the
          members of the Diplomatic Body—Answers to that circular.
        





 CHAPTER XXVI. 


1804. Trial of Moreau, Georges, and others—Public interest
          excited by Moreau—Arraignment of the prisoners—Moreau's letter to
          Bonaparte— Violence of the President of the Court towards the
          prisoners— Lajolais and Rolland—Examinations intended to criminate
          Moreau— Remarkable observations—Speech written by M. Garat—Bonaparte's
          opinion of Garat's eloquence—General Lecourbe and Moreau's son—
          Respect shown to Moreau by the military—Different sentiments excited
          by Georges and Moreau—Thoriot and 'Tui-roi'—Georges' answers to the
          interrogatories—He refuses an offer of pardon— Coster St.
          Victor—Napoleon and an actress—Captain Wright— M. de Riviere and the
          medal of the Comte d'Artois—Generous struggle between MM. de
          Polignac—Sentence on the prisoners—Bonaparte's remark—Pardons and
          executions.
        





 CHAPTER XXVII. 


1804. Clavier and Hemart—Singular Proposal of Corvisart-M.
          Desmaisons— Project of influencing the judges—Visit to the
          Tuileries—Rapp in attendance—Long conversation with the Emperor—His
          opinion on the trial of Moreau—English assassins and Mr.
          Fox—Complaints against the English Government—Bonaparte and
          Lacuee—Affectionate behaviour—Arrest of Pichegru—Method employed by
          the First Consul to discover his presence in Paris—Character of
          Moreau—Measures of Bonaparte regarding him—Lauriston sent to the
          Temple—Silence respecting the Duc d'Enghien—Napoleon's opinion of
          Moreau and Georges—Admiration of Georges—Offers of employment and
          dismissal— Recital of former vexations—Audience of the
          Empress—Melancholy forebodings—What Bonaparte said concerning
          himself—Marks of kindness.
        





 CHAPTER XXVIII. 


1804. Curious disclosures of Fouché—Remarkable words of
          Bonaparte respecting the protest of Louis XVIII—Secret document
          inserted in the Moniteur—Announcement from Bonaparte to Regnier—Fouché
          appointed Minister of Police—Error of Regnier respecting the
          conspiracy of Georges—Undeserved praise bestowed on Fouché— Indication
          of the return of the Bourbons—Variation between the words and conduct
          of Bonaparte—The iron crown—Celebration of the 14th of July—Church
          festivals and loss of time—Grand ceremonial at the
          Invalides—Recollections of the 18th Brumaire—New oath of the Legion of
          Honour—General enthusiasm—Departure for Boulogne—Visits to Josephine
          at St. Cloud and Malmaison—Josephine and Madame de Rémusat—Pardons
          granted by the Emperor—Anniversary of the 14th of July—Departure for
          the camp of Boulogne—General error respecting Napoleon's
          designs—Caesar's Tower—Distribution of the crosses of the Legion of
          Honour—The military throne—Bonaparte's charlatanism —Intrepidity of
          two English sailors—The decennial prizes and the Polytechnic
          School—Meeting of the Emperor and Empress—First negotiation with the
          Holy Sea—The Prefect of Arras and Comte Louis de Narbonne—Change in
          the French Ministry.
        





 CHAPTER XXIX. 


1804. England deceived by Napoleon—Admirals Missiessy and
          Villeneuve— Command given to Lauriston—Napoleon's opinion of Madame de
          Stael— Her letters to Napoleon—Her enthusiasm converted into hatred—
          Bonaparte's opinion of the power of the Church—The Pope's arrival at
          Fontainebleau—Napoleon's first interview with Pius VII.— The Pope and
          the Emperor on a footing of equality—Honours rendered to the Pope—His
          apartments at the Tuileries—His visit to the Imperial printing
          office—Paternal rebuke—Effect produced in England by the Pope's
          presence in Paris—Preparations for Napoleon's coronation—Votes in
          favour of hereditary succession—Convocation of the Legislative
          Body—The presidents of cantons—Anecdote related by Michot the
          actor—Comparisons—Influence of the Coronation on the trade of
          Paris—The insignia of Napoleon and the insignia of Charlemagne—The
          Pope's mule—Anecdote of the notary Raguideau— Distribution of eagles
          in the Champ de Mars—Remarkable coincidence.
        





 CHAPTER XXX. 


1805 My appointment as Minister Plenipotentiary at Hamburg—My
          interview with Bonaparte at Malmaison—Bonaparte's designs respecting
          Italy— His wish to revisit Brienne—Instructions for my residence in
          Hamburg—Regeneration of European society—Bonaparte's plan of making
          himself the oldest sovereign in Europe—Amedee Jaubert's
          mission—Commission from the Emperor to the Empress—My conversation
          with Madame Bonaparte.
        





 CHAPTER XXXI. 


1805 Napoleon and Voltaire—Demands of the Holy See—Coolness
          between the pope and the Emperor—Napoleon's departure for Italy—Last
          interview between the Pope and the Emperor at Turin—Alessandria—The
          field of Marengo—The last Doge of Genoa—Bonaparte's arrival at
          Milan—Union of Genoa to the French Empire—Error in the Memorial of St.
          Helen— Bonaparte and Madam Grassini—Symptoms of dissatisfaction on the
          part of Austria and Russia—Napoleon's departure from Milan— Monument
          to commemorate the battle of Marengo—Napoleon's arrival in Paris and
          departure for Boulogne—Unfortunate result of a naval engagement—My
          visit to Fouché's country seat—Sieyès, Barras, the Bourbons, and
          Bonaparte—Observations respecting Josephine.
        





 CHAPTER XXXII. 


1805. Capitulation of Sublingen—Preparations for war—Utility of
          commercial information—My instructions—Inspection of the emigrants and
          the journals—A pamphlet by Kotzebue—Offers from the Emperor of Russia
          to Moreau—Portrait of Gustavus Adolphus by one of his
          ministers—Fouché's denunciations—Duels at Hamburg—M. de Gimel —The
          Hamburg Correspondent—Letter from Bernadotte.
        





 CHAPTER XXXIII. 


1805. Treaty of alliance between England and Russia—Certainty
          of an approaching war—M. Forshmann, the Russian Minister—Duroc's
          mission to Berlin—New project of the King of Sweden—Secret mission to
          the Baltic—Animosity against France—Fall of the exchange between
          Hamburg and Paris—Destruction of the first Austrian army—Taking of
          Ulm—The Emperor's displeasure at the remark of a soldier—Battle of
          Trafalgar—Duroc's position at the Court of Prussia—Armaments in
          Russia—Libel upon Napoleon in the Hamburg 'Corespondent'—
          Embarrassment of the Syndic and Burgomaster of Hamburg—The conduct of
          the Russian Minister censured by the Swedish and English Ministers.
        





 CHAPTER XXXIV. 


1805 Difficulties of my situation at Hamburg—Toil and
          responsibility— Supervision of the emigrants—Foreign
          Ministers—Journals—Packet from Strasburg—Bonaparte fond of narrating
          Giulio, an extempore recitation of a story composed by the Emperor.
        











 VOLUME III. — 1805-1814











 CHAPTER I. 


1805. Abolition of the Republican calendar—Warlike preparations
          in Austria—Plan for re-organizing the National Guard—Napoleon in
          Strasburg—General Mack—Proclamation—Captain Bernard's reconnoitering
          mission—The Emperor's pretended anger and real
          satisfaction—Information respecting Ragusa communicated by Bernard
          —Rapid and deserved promotion—General Bernard's retirement to the
          United States of America.
        





 CHAPTER II. 


1805. Rapidity of Napoleon's victories—Murat at
          Wertingen—Conquest of Ney's duchy—The French army before Ulm—The
          Prince of Liechtenstein at the Imperial headquarters—His interview
          with Napoleon described by Rapp—Capitulation of Ulm signed by Berthier
          and Mack—Napoleon before and after a victory—His address to the
          captive generals— The Emperor's proclamation—Ten thousand prisoners
          taken by Murat— Battle of Caldiero in Italy—Letter from Duroc—Attempts
          to retard the Emperor's progress—Fruitless mission of M. de Giulay—The
          first French eagles taken by the Russians—Bold adventure of Lannes and
          Murat—The French enter Vienna—Savary's mission to the Emperor
          Alexander.
        





 CHAPTER III. 


1805. My functions at Hamburg—The King of Sweden at Stralsund—
          My bulletin describing the situation of the Russian armies—Duroc's
          recall from Berlin—General Dumouriez—Recruiting of the English in
          Hanover—The daughter of M. de Marbeof and Napoleon—Treachery of the
          King of Naples—The Sun of Austerlitz—Prince Dolgiorouki Rapp's account
          of the battle of Austerlitz—Gerard's picture— Eugène's marriage.
        





 CHAPTER IV. 


1805. Depreciation of the Bank paper—Ouvrard—His great
          discretion— Bonaparte's opinion of the rich—Ouvrard's imprisonment—His
          partnership with the King of Spain—His connection with Waalenberghe
          and Desprez—Bonaparte's return to Paris after the campaign of
          Vienna—Hasty dismissal of M. Barbe Marbois.
        





 CHAPTER V 


1805-1806. Declaration of Louis XVIII.—Dumouriez watched—News
          of a spy— Remarkable trait of courage and presence of mind—Necessity
          of vigilance at Hamburg—The King of Sweden—His bulletins—Doctor Gall
          —Prussia covets Hamburg—Projects on Holland—Negotiations for peace—Mr.
          Fox at the head of the British Cabinet—Intended assassination of
          Napoleon—Propositions made through Lord Yarmouth —Proposed protection
          of the Hanse towns—Their state— Aggrandisement of the Imperial
          family—Neither peace nor war— Sebastiani's mission to
          Constantinople—Lord Lauderdale at Paris, and failure of the
          negotiations—Austria despoiled—Emigrant pensions—Dumouriez's
          intrigues—Prince of Mecklenburg-Schwerin— Loizeau.
        





 CHAPTER VI. 


1806. Menaces of Prussia—Offer for restoring Hanover to
          England—Insolent ultimatum—Commencement of hostilities between France
          and Prussia— Battle of Auerstadt—Death of the Duke of
          Brunswick—Bernadotte in Hamburg—Davonet and Bernadotte—The Swedes at
          Lübeck—Major Amiel— Service rendered to the English Minister at
          Hamburg—My appointment of Minister for the King of Naples—New
          regulation of the German post-office—The Confederation of the
          North—Devices of the Hanse Towns—Occupation of Hamburg in the name of
          the Emperor—Decree of Berlin—The military governors of Hamburg—Brune,
          Michaud, and Bernadotte.
        





 CHAPTER VII. 


1806. Ukase of the Emperor of Russia—Duroc's mission to Weimar—
          Napoleon's views defeated—Triumphs of the French armies—Letters from
          Murat—False report respecting Murat—Resemblance between Moreau and M.
          Billand—Generous conduct of Napoleon—His interview with Madame
          Hatzfeld at Berlin—Letter from Bonaparte to Josephine— Blücher my
          prisoner—His character—His confidence in the future fate of
          Germany—Prince Paul of Wurtemberg taken prisoner—His wish to enter the
          French service—Distinguished emigrants at Altona— Deputation of the
          Senate to the Emperor at Berlin—The German Princes at
          Altona—Fauche-Boiel and the Comte de Gimel.
        





 CHAPTER VIII. 


1806. Alarm of the city of Hamburg—The French at
          Bergdorf—Favourable orders issued by Bernadotte—Extortions in
          Prussia—False endorsements—Exactions of the Dutch—Napoleon's concern
          for his wounded troops—Duroc's mission to the King of
          Prussia—Rejection of the Emperor's demands—My negotiations at
          Hamburg—Displeasure of the King of Sweden—M. Netzel and M.
          Wetteratedt.
        





 CHAPTER IX. 


1806 The Continental system—General indignation excited by
          it—Sale of licences by the French Government—Custom-house system at
          Hamburg— My letter to the Emperor—Cause of the rupture with Russia—
          Bernadotte's visit to me—Trial by court-martial for the purchase of a
          sugar-loaf—Davoust and the captain "rapporteur"—Influence of the
          Continental system on Napoleon's fall.
        





 CHAPTER X. 


1806-1807. New system of war—Winter quarters—The Emperor's
          Proclamation— Necessity of marching to meet the Russians—Distress in
          the Hanse Towns—Order for 50,000 cloaks—Seizure of Russian corn and
          timber— Murat's entrance into Warsaw—Re-establishment of
          Poland—Duroc's accident—M. de Talleyrand's carriage stopped by the
          mud—Napoleon's power of rousing the spirit of his troops—His mode of
          dictating— The Duke of Mecklenburg-Schwerin—His visits to Hamburg—The
          Duke of Weimar—His letter and present—Journey of the Hereditary Prince
          of Denmark to Paris—Batter, the English spy—Traveling clerks—Louis
          Bonaparte and the Berlin decree—Creation of the Kingdom of Saxony—
          Veneration of Germany for the King of Saxony—The Emperor's uncertainty
          respecting Poland—Fetes and reviews at Warsaw—The French Government at
          the Emperor's head quarters—Ministerial portfolios sent to
          Warsaw.—Military preparations during the month of January—Difference
          of our situation daring the campaigns of Vienna and Prussia—News
          received and sent—Conduct of the Cabinet of Austria similar to that of
          the Cabinet of Berlin—Battle of Eylau—Unjust accusation against
          Bernadotte—Death of General d'Hautpoult—Te Deum chanted by the
          Russians—Gardanne's mission to Persia
        





 CHAPTER XI. 


1807 Abuse of military power—Defence of diplomatic
          rights—Marshal Brune —Army supplies—English cloth and leather—Arrest
          on a charge of libel—Dispatch from M. Talleyrand—A page of Napoleon's
          glory— Interview between the two Emperors at Tilsit,—Silesia restored
          to the Queen of Prussia—Unfortunate situation in Prussia—
          Impossibility of reestablishing Poland in 1807—Foundation of the
          Kingdom of Westphalia—The Duchy of Warsaw and the King of Saxony.
        





 CHAPTER XII. 


1807. Effect produced at Altona by the Treaty of Tilsit—The
          Duke of Mecklenburg-Schwerin's departure from Hamburg—English squadron
          in the Sound—Bombardment of Copenhagen—Perfidy of England—Remark of
          Bonaparte to M. Lemercier—Prussia erased from the map—Napoleon's
          return to Paris—Suppression of the Tribunate—Confiscation of English
          merchandise—Nine millions gained to France—M. Caulaincourt Ambassador
          to Russia—Repugnance of England to the intervention of Russia—Affairs
          of Portugal—Junot appointed to command the army— The Prince Regent's
          departure for the Brazils—The Code Napoleon— Introduction of the
          French laws into Germany—Leniency of Hamburg Juries—The stolen cloak
          and the Syndic Doormann.
        





 CHAPTER XIII. 


1807-1808. Disturbed state of Spain—Godoy, Prince of the
          Peace—Reciprocal accusations between the King of Spain and his
          son—False promise of Napoleon—Dissatisfaction occasioned by the
          presence of the French troops—Abdication of Charles IV.—The Prince of
          the Peace made prisoner—Murat at Madrid—Important news transmitted by
          a commercial letter—Murat's ambition—His protection of Godoy— Charles
          IV, denies his voluntary abdication—The crown of Spain destined for
          Joseph—General disapprobation of Napoleon's conduct— The Bourbon cause
          apparently lost—Louis XVIII. after his departure from France—As Comte
          de Provence at Coblentz—He seeks refuge in Turin and Verona—Death of
          Louis XVII—Louis XVIII. refused an asylum in Austria, Saxony, and
          Prussia—His residence at Mittan and Warsaw—Alexander and Louis
          XVIII—The King's departure from Milan and arrival at
          Yarmouth—Determination of the King of England—M. Lemercier's prophecy
          to Bonaparte—Fouché's inquiries respecting Comte de Rechteren—Note
          from Josephine—New demands on the Hanse Towns—Order to raise 3000
          sailors in Hamburg.
        





 CHAPTER XIV. 


1808. Departure of the Prince of Ponte-Corvo—Prediction and
          superstition —Stoppage of letters addressed to the Spanish troops—La
          Romana and Romanillos—Illegible notifications—Eagerness of the German
          Princes to join the Confederation of the Rhine—Attack upon me on
          account of M. Hue—Bernadotte's successor in Hamburg—Exactions and
          tyrannical conduct of General Dupas—Disturbance in Hamburg—Plates
          broken in a fit of rage—My letter to Bernadotte—His reply—Bernadotte's
          return to Hamburg, and departure of Dupas for Lübeck—Noble conduct of
          the 'aide de camp' Barrel.
        





 CHAPTER XV. 


1808. Promulgation of the Code of Commerce—Conquests by
          Status-consulte— Three events in one day—Recollections—Application of
          a line of Voltaire—Creation of the Imperial nobility—Restoration of
          the university—Aggrandisement of the kingdom of Italy at the expense
          of Rome—Cardinal Caprara'a departure from Paris—The interview at
          Erfurt.
        





 CHAPTER XVI. 


1808. The Spanish troops in Hamburg—Romana's siesta—His
          departure for Funen—Celebration of Napoleon's birthday—Romana's
          defection— English agents and the Dutch troops—Facility of
          communication between England and the Continent—Delay of couriers from
          Russia— Alarm and complaints—The people of Hamburg—Montesquieu and the
          Minister of the Grand Duke of Tuscany—Invitations at six months—
          Napoleon's journey to Italy—Adoption of Eugène—Lucien's daughter and
          the Prince of the Asturias—M. Auguste de Stael's interview with
          Napoleon.
        





 CHAPTER XVII. 


1808. The Republic of Batavia—The crown of Holland offered to
          Louis— Offer and refusal of the crown of Spain—Napoleon's attempt to
          get possession of Brabant—Napoleon before and after Erfart— A
          remarkable letter to Louis—Louis summoned to Paris—His honesty and
          courage—His bold language—Louis' return to Holland, and his letter to
          Napoleon—Harsh letter from Napoleon to Louis—Affray at
          Amsterdam—Napoleon's displeasure and last letter to his brother—
          Louis' abdication in favour of his son—Union of Holland to the French
          Empire—Protest of Louis against that measure—Letter from M. Otto to
          Louis.
        





 CHAPTER XVIII. 


1809. Demands for contingents from some of the small States of
          Germany— M. Metternich—Position of Russia with respect to France—Union
          of Austria and Russia—Return of the English to Spain—Soult King of
          Portugal, and Murat successor to the Emperor—First levy of the
          landwehr in Austria—Agents of the Hamburg 'Correspondent'— Declaration
          of Prince Charles—Napoleon's march to Germany—His
          proclamation—Bernadotte's departure for the army—Napoleon's dislike of
          Bernadotte—Prince Charles' plan of campaign—The English at
          Cuxhaven—Fruitlessness of the plots of England—Napoleon
          wounded—Napoleon's prediction realised—Major Schill—Hamburg threatened
          and saved—Schill in Lübeck—His death, and destruction of his
          band—Schill imitated by the Duke of Brunswick-Oels— Departure of the
          English from Cuxhaven.
        





 CHAPTER XIX. 


1809. The castle of Diernstein—Richard Coeur de Lion and
          Marshal Lannes, —The Emperor at the gates of Vienna—The Archduchess
          Maria Louisa— Facility of correspondence with England—Smuggling in
          Hamburg—Brown sugar and sand—Hearses filled with sugar and
          coffee—Embargo on the publication of news—Supervision of the 'Hamburg
          Correspondant'— Festival of Saint Napoleon—Ecclesiastical
          adulation—The King of Westphalia's journey through his States—Attempt
          to raise a loan— Jerome's present to me—The present
          returned—Bonaparte's unfounded suspicions.
        





 CHAPTER XX. 


1809. Visit to the field of Wagram.—Marshal Macdonald—Union of
          the Papal States with the Empire—The battle of Talavera—Sir Arthur
          Wellesley—English expedition to Holland—Attempt to assassinate the
          Emperor at Schoenbrunn—Staps Interrogated by Napoleon—Pardon offered
          and rejected—Fanaticism and patriotism—Corvisart's examination of
          Staps—Second interrogatory—Tirade against the illuminati—Accusation of
          the Courts of Berlin and Weimar—Firmness and resignation of
          Staps—Particulars respecting his death— Influence of the attempt of
          Staps on the conclusion of peace— M. de Champagny.
        





 CHAPTER XXI. 


1809. The Princess Royal of Denmark—Destruction of the German
          Empire— Napoleons visit to the Courts of Bavaria and Wurtemberg—His
          return to France—First mention of the divorce—Intelligence of
          Napoleon's marriage with Maria Louisa—Napoleon's quarrel with
          Louis—Journey of the Emperor and Empress into Holland—Refusal of the
          Hanse Towns to pay the French troops—Decree for burning English
          merchandise— M. de Vergennes—Plan for turning an inevitable evil to
          the best account—Fall on the exchange of St Petersburg
        





 CHAPTER XXII. 


1809-1810. Bernadotte elected Prince Royal of Sweden—Count
          Wrede's overtures to Bernadotte—Bernadottes's three days' visit to
          Hamburg— Particulars respecting the battle of Wagram—Secret Order of
          the day—Last intercourse of the Prince Royal of Sweden with Napoleon—
          My advice to Bernadotte respecting the Continental system.
        





 CHAPTER XXIII. 


1810 Bernadotte's departure from Hamburg—The Duke of
          Holstein-Augustenburg—Arrival of the Crown Prince in Sweden—
          Misunderstandings between him and Napoleon—Letter from Bernadotte to
          the Emperor—Plot for kidnapping the Prince Royal of Sweden— Invasion
          of Swedish Pomerania—Forced alliance of Sweden with England and
          Russia—Napoleon's overtures to Sweden—Bernadotte's letters of
          explanation to the Emperor—The Princess Royal of Sweden —My recall to
          Paris—Union of the Hanse Towns with France— Dissatisfaction of
          Russia—Extraordinary demand made upon me by Bonaparte—Fidelity of my
          old friends—Duroc and Rapp—Visit to Malmaison, and conversation with
          Josephine.
        





 CHAPTER XXIV 


1811 Arrest of La Sahla—My visit to him—His confinement at
          Vincennes— Subsequent history of La Sahla—His second journey to
          France— Detonating powder—Plot hatched against me by the Prince of
          Eckmuhl —Friendly offices of the Duc de Rovigo—Bugbears of the police—
          Savary, Minister of Police.
        





 CHAPTER XXV. 


1811 M. Czernischeff—Dissimulation of Napoleon—Napoleon and
          Alexander— Josephine's foresight respecting the affairs of Spain—My
          visits to Malmaison—Grief of Josephine—Tears and the toilet—Vast
          extent of the Empire—List of persons condemned to death and banishment
          in Piedmont—Observation of Alfieri respecting the Spaniards—Success in
          Spain—Check of Massena in Portugal—Money lavished by the
          English—Bertrand sent to Illyria, and Marmont to Portugal— Situation
          of the French army—Assembling of the Cortes—Europe sacrificed to the
          Continental system—Conversation with Murat in the Champs Elysees—New
          titles and old names—Napoleon's dislike of literary men—Odes, etc., on
          the marriage of Napoleon—Chateaubriand and Lemereier—Death of
          Chenier—Chateaubriand elected his successor —His discourse read by
          Napoleon—Bonaparte compared to Nero— Suppression of the 'Merceure'—M.
          de Chateaubriand ordered to leave Paris—MM. Lemercier and Esmenard
          presented to the Emperor—Birth of the King of Rome—France in 1811.
        





 CHAPTER XXVI. 


1811 My return to Hamburg—Government Committee
          established there— Anecdote of the Comte de Chaban—Napoleon's
          misunderstanding with the Pope—Cardinal Fesch—Convention of a
          Council—Declaration required from the Bishops—Spain in 1811—Certainty
          of war with Russia—Lauriston supersedes Caulaincourt at St.
          Petersburg—The war in Spain neglected—Troops of all nations at the
          disposal of Bonaparte—Levy of the National Guard—Treaties with Prussia
          and Austria—Capitulation renewed with Switzerland—Intrigues with
          Czernischeff—Attacks of my enemies—Memorial to the Emperor—Ogier de la
          Saussaye and the mysterious box—Removal of the Pope to
          Fontainebleau—Anecdote of His Holiness and M. Denon—Departure of
          Napoleon and Maria Louisa for Dresden—Situation of affairs in Spain
          and Portugal—Rapp's account of the Emperor's journey to Dantzic—
          Mutual wish for war on the part of Napoleon and Alexander—Sweden and
          Turkey—Napoleon's vain attempt to detach Sweden from her alliance with
          Russia.
        





 CHAPTER XXVII. 


1812. Changeableness of Bonaparte's plans and opinions—Articles
          for the 'Moniteur' dictated by the First Consul—The Protocol of the
          Congress of Chatillon—Conversations with Davoust at Hamburg— Promise
          of the Viceroyalty of Poland—Hope and disappointment of the
          Poles—Influence of illusion on Bonaparte—The French in Moscow—
          Disasters of the retreat—Mallet's conspiracy—Intelligence of the
          affair communicated to Napoleon at Smolensko—Circumstances detailed by
          Rapp—Real motives of Napoleon's return to Paris—Murat, Ney, and
          Eugène—Power of the Italians to endure cold—Napoleon's exertions to
          repair his losses—Defection of General York—Convocation of a Privy
          Council—War resolved on—Wavering of the Pope—Useless negotiations with
          Vienna—Maria Louisa appointed Regent.
        





 CHAPTER XXVIII. 


1813. Riots in Hamburg and Lübeck—Attempted suicide of M.
          Konning— Evacuation of Hamburg—Dissatisfaction at the conduct of
          General St. Cyr—The Cabinets of Vienna and the Tuileries—First
          appearance of the Cossacks—Colonel Tettenborn invited to occupy
          Hamburg—Cordial reception of the Russians—Depredations—Levies of
          troops— Testimonials of gratitude to Tettenborn—Napoleon's new
          army—Death of General Morand—Remarks of Napoleon on Vandamme—Bonaparte
          and Gustavus Adolphus—Junction of the corps of Davoust and Vandamme—
          Reoccupation of Hamburg by the French—General Hogendorff appointed
          Governor of Hamburg—Exactions and vexatious contributions levied upon
          Hamburg and Lübeck—Hostages.
        





 CHAPTER XXIX. 


1813. Napoleon's second visit to Dresden—Battle of Bantzen—The
          Congress at Prague—Napoleon ill- advised—Battle of Vittoria—General
          Moreau Rupture of the conferences at Prague—Defection of
          Jomini—Battles of Dresden and Leipsic—Account of the death of Duroc—An
          interrupted conversation resumed a year after—Particulars respecting
          Poniatowski—His extraordinary courage and death— His monument at
          Leipsic and tomb in the cathedral of Warsaw.
        





 CHAPTER XXX. 


1813 Amount of the Allied forces against Napoleon—Their advance
          towards the Rhine—Levy of 280,000 men—Dreadful situation of the French
          at Mayence—Declaration of the Allies at Frankfort—Diplomatic
          correspondents—The Duc de Bassano succeeded by the Duke of Vicenza
          —The conditions of the Allies vaguely accepted—Caulaincourt sent to
          the headquarters of the Allies—Manifesto of the Allied powers to the
          French people.—Gift of 30,000,000 from the Emperor's privy purse—Wish
          to recall M. de Talleyrand—Singular advice relative to Wellington—The
          French army recalled from Spain—The throne resigned Joseph—Absurd
          accusation against M. Laine—Adjournment of the Legislative
          Body—Napoleon's Speech to the Legislative Body—Remarks of Napoleon
          reported by Cambacérès.
        





 CHAPTER XXXI. 


1813. The flag of the army of Italy and the eagles of
          1813—Entrance of the Allies into Switzerland—Summons to the Minister
          of Police— My refusal to accept a mission to Switzerland—Interviews
          with M. de Talleyrand and the Duc de Picence—Offer of a Dukedom and
          the Grand Cordon of the Legion of Honour—Definitive refusal—The Duc de
          Vicence's message to me in 1815—Commencement of the siege of Hamburg—A
          bridge two leagues long—Executions at Lübeck—Scarcity of provisions in
          Hamburg—Banishment of the inhabitants—Men bastinadoed and women
          whipped—Hospitality of the inhabitants of Altona.
        





 CHAPTER XXXII. 


1813-1814. Prince Eugène and the affairs of Italy—The army of
          Italy on the frontiers of Austria—Eugène's regret at the defection of
          the Bavarians—Murat's dissimulation and perfidy—His treaty with
          Austria—Hostilities followed by a declaration of war—Murat abandoned
          by the French generals—Proclamation from Paris—Murat's
          success—Gigantic scheme of Napoleon—Napoleon advised to join the
          Jacobins—His refusal—Armament of the National Guard—The Emperor's
          farewell to the officers—The Congress of Chatillon—Refusal of an
          armistice—Napoleon's character displayed in his negotiations— Opening
          of the Congress—Discussions—Rupture of the Conferences.
        





 CHAPTER XXXIII. 


1814 Curious conversation between General Reynier and the
          Emperor Alexander—Napoleon repulses the Prussians—The Russians at
          Fontainebleau—Battle of Brienne—Sketch of the campaign of France—
          Supper after the battle of Champ Aubert—Intelligence of the arrival of
          the Duc d'Angouleme and the Comte d'Artois in France—The battle of the
          ravens and the eagle—Battle of Craonne—Departure of the Pope and the
          Spanish Princes—Capture of a convoy—Macdonald at the Emperor's
          headquarters—The inverted cipher.
        





 CHAPTER XXXIV. 


1814. The men of the Revolution and the men of the Empire—The
          Council of Regency—Departure of the Empress from Paris—Marmont and
          Mortier— Joseph's flight—Meeting at Marmont's hotel—Capitulation of
          Paris— Marmont's interview with the Emperor at Fontainebleau—Colonels
          Fabvier and Denys—The Royalist cavalcade—Meeting at the hotel of the
          Comte de Morfontaine—M. de Chateaubriand and his pamphlet— Deputation
          to the Emperor Alexander—Entrance of the Allied sovereigns into
          Paris—Alexander lodged in M. Talleyrand's hotel— Meetings held
          there—The Emperor Alexander's declaration— My appointment as
          Postmaster-General—Composition of the Provisional Government—Mistake
          respecting the conduct of the Emperor of Austria—Caulaincourt's
          mission from Napoleon—His interview with the Emperor
          Alexander—Alexander's address to the deputation of the Senate—M. de
          Caulaincourt ordered to quit the capital.
        





 CHAPTER XXXV. 


1814. Situation of Bonaparte during the events of the 30th and
          31st of March—His arrival at Fontainebleau—Plan of attacking Paris—
          Arrival of troops at Fontainebleau—The Emperor's address to the
          Guard—Forfeiture pronounced by the Senate—Letters to Marmont—
          Correspondence between Marmont and Schwartzenberg—Macdonald informed
          of the occupation of Paris—Conversation between the Emperor and
          Macdonald at Fontainebleau—Beurnonville's letter— Abdication on
          condition of a Regency—Napoleon's wish to retract his act of
          abdication—Macdonald Ney, and Caulaincourt sent to Paris— Marmont
          released from his promise by Prince Schwartzenberg.
        





 CHAPTER XXXVI. 


1814. Unexpected receipts in the Post-office Department—Arrival
          of Napoleon's Commissioners at M. de Talleyrand's—Conference of the
          Marshals with Alexander—Alarming news from Essonne—Marmont's
          courage—The white cockade and the tri-coloured cockade— A successful
          stratagem—Three Governments in France—The Duc de Cadore sent by Maria
          Louisa to the Emperor of Austria—Maria Louisa's proclamation to the
          French people—Interview between the Emperor of Austria and the Duc de
          Cadore—The Emperor's protestation of friendship for Napoleon—M.
          Metternich and M. Stadion—Maria Louisa's departure for
          Orleans—Blücher's visit to me—Audience of the King of Prussia—His
          Majesty's reception of Berthier, Clarke, and myself—Bernadotte in
          Paris—Cross of the Polar Star presented to me by Bernadotte.
        











 VOLUME IV. — 1814-1821 












 CHAPTER I. 


1814. Unalterable determination of the Allies with respect to
          Napoleon— Fontainebleau included in the limits to be occupied by the
          Allies— Alexander's departure from Paris—Napoleon informed of the
          necessity of his unconditional abdication—Macdonald and Ney again sent
          to Paris—Alleged attempt of Napoleon to poison himself—Farewell
          interview between Macdonald and Napoleon—The sabre of Murad Bey—
          Signature of the act of unconditional abdication—Tranquillity of Paris
          during the change of Government—Ukase of the Emperor of Russia
          relative to the Post-office—Religious ceremony on the Place Louis
          XV.—Arrival of the Comte d'Artois—His entrance into Paris— Arrival of
          the Emperor of Austria—Singular assemblage of sovereigns in
          France—Visit of the Emperor of Austria to Maria Louisa—Her interview
          with the Emperor Alexander—Her departure for Vienna.
        





 CHAPTER II. 


1814. Italy and Eugène—Siege of Dantzic-Capitulation concluded
          but not ratified-Rapp made prisoner and sent to Kiew—Davoust's refusal
          to believe the intelligence from Paris—Projected assassination of one
          of the French Princes—Departure of Davoust and General Hogendorff from
          Hamburg—The affair of Manbreuil—Arrival of the Commissioners of the
          Allied powers at Fontainebleau—Preference shown by Napoleon to Colonel
          Campbell—Bonaparte's address to General Kohler—His farewell to his
          troops—First day of Napoleon's journey—The Imperial Guard succeeded by
          the Cossacks—Interview with Augereau— The first white
          cockades—Napoleon hanged in effigy at Orgon—His escape in the disguise
          of a courier—Scene in the inn of La Calade— Arrival at Aix—The
          Princess Pauline—Napoleon embarks for Elba—His life at Elba.
        





 CHAPTER III. 


1814. Changes produced by time—Correspondence between the
          Provisional Government and Hartwell—Louis XVIII's reception in London—
          His arrival at Calais—Berthier's address to the King at Compiegne— My
          presentation to his Majesty at St. Ouen-Louis—XVIII's entry into
          Paris—Unexpected dismissal from my post—M. de Talleyrand's departure
          for the Congress of Vienna—Signs of a commotion— Impossibility of
          seeing M. de Blacas—The Abby Fleuriel—Unanswered letters—My letter to
          M. de Talleyrand at Vienna.
        





 CHAPTER IV. 


1814-1815. Escape from Elba—His landing near Cannes—March on
          Paris.
        





 CHAPTER V. 


1815. Message from the Tuileries—My interview with the King— My
          appointment to the office of Prefect of the Police—Council at the
          Tuileries—Order for arrests—Fouches escape—Davoust
          unmolested—Conversation with M. de Blacas—The intercepted letter, and
          time lost—Evident understanding between Murat and Napoleon— Plans laid
          at Elba—My departure from Paris—The post-master of Fins—My arrival at
          Lille—Louis XVIII. detained an hour at the gates—His majesty obliged
          to leave France—My departure for Hamburg—The Duc de Berri at Brussels.
        





 CHAPTER VI. 


1815. Message to Madame de Bourrienne on the 20th of
          March—Napoleon's nocturnal entrance into Paris—General Becton sent to
          my family by Caulaincourt—Recollection of old persecutions—General
          Driesen— Solution of an enigma—Seals placed on my effects—Useless
          searches —Persecution of women—Madame de Stael and Madame de Recamier—
          Paris during the Hundred Days—The federates and patriotic songs—
          Declaration of the Plenipotentiaries at Vienna.
        





 CHAPTER VII. 


1815.—[By the Editor of the 1836 edition]—Napoleon at
          Paris—Political manoeuvres—The meeting of the Champ-de-Mai—Napoleon,
          the Liberals, and the moderate Constitutionalists—His love of
          arbitrary power as strong as ever— Paris during the Cent
          Jours—Preparations for his last campaign— The Emperor leaves Paris to
          join the army—State of Brussels— Proclamation of Napoleon to the
          Belgians—Effective strength of the French and Allied armies—The
          Emperor's proclamation to the French army.
        





 CHAPTER VIII. 


1815. —[Like the preceding, this chapter first appeared in the
          1836 edition, and is not from the pen of M. de Bourrienne.]— THE
          BATTLES OF LIGNY AND QUATRE BRAS.
        





 CHAPTER IX. 


1815 THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO.
        





 CHAPTER X. 


1815 Interview with Lavallette—Proceedings in the French
          Chambers— Second abdication of Napoleon—He retires to Rochefort,
          negotiates with Captain Maitland, and finally embarks in the
          'Bellerophon'.
        





 CHAPTER XI. 


1815. My departure from Hamburg—The King at St. Denis—Fouché
          appointed Minister of the Police—Delay of the King's entrance into
          Paris— Effect of that delay—Fouché's nomination due to the Duke of
          Wellington—Impossibility of resuming my post—Fouché's language with
          respect to the Bourbons—His famous postscript—Character of
          Fouché—Discussion respecting the two cockades—Manifestations of public
          joy repressed by Fouché—Composition of the new Ministry— Kind
          attention of Blücher—The English at St. Cloud—Blücher in Napoleon's
          cabinet—My prisoner become my protector—Blücher and the innkeeper's
          dog—My daughter's marriage contract—Rigid etiquette— My appointment to
          the Presidentship of the Electoral College of the Yonne—My interview
          with Fouché—My audience of the King—His Majesty made acquainted with
          my conversation with Fouché—The Duke of Otranto's disgrace—Carnot
          deceived by Bonaparte—My election as deputy—My colleague, M. Raudot—My
          return to Paris—Regret caused by the sacrifice of Ney—Noble conduct of
          Macdonald—A drive with Rapp in the Bois de Boulogne—Rapp's interview
          with Bonaparte in 1815—The Duc de Berri and Rapp—My nomination to the
          office of Minister of State—My name inscribed by the hand of Louis
          XVIII.— Conclusion.
        





 CHAPTER XII. 


          THE CENT JOURS.
        





 CHAPTER XIII 


1815-1821.—[This chapter; by the editor of the 1836 edition, is
          based upon the 'Memorial', and O'Meara's and Antommarchi's works.]—
          Voyage to St. Helena—Personal traits of the Emperor—Arrival at James
          Town—Napoleon's temporary residence at The Briars—Removal to
          Longwood—The daily routine there-The Campaign of Italy—The arrival of
          Sir Hudson Lowe—Unpleasant relations between the Emperor and the new
          Governor—Visitors at St. Helena—Captain Basil Hall's interview with
          Napoleon—Anecdotes of the Emperor—Departure of Las Cases and
          O'Meara—Arrivals from Europe—Physical habits of the Emperor—Dr.
          Antommarchi—The Emperor's toilet—Creation of a new bishopric— The
          Emperor's energy with the spade—His increasing illness— Last days of
          Napoleon—His Death—Lying in state—Military funeral— Marchand's account
          of the Emperor's last moments—Napoleon's last bequests—The Watch of
          Rivoli.
        







 


 












      ILLUSTRATIONS
    



      VOLUME I.
    






          I.
        

NAPOLEON I. (First Portrait)






          II.
        

LETITIA RAMOLINO






          III.
        

THE EMPRESS JOSEPHINE(First Portrait)






          IV.
        

EUGENE BEAUHARNAIS






          V.
        

GENERAL KLEBER






          VI.
        

MARSHAL LANNES 






          VII.
        

TALLEYRAND






          VIII.
        

GENERAL DUROC






          IX.
        

MURAT, KING OF NAPLES







      VOLUME II.
    






          I.
        

THE EMPRESS JOSEPHINE (Second Portrait)






          II.
        

GENERAL DESAIX






          III.
        

GENERAL MOREAU






          IV.
        

HORTENSE BEAUHARNAIS






          V.
        

THE DUC D'ENGHEIN






          VI.
        

GENERAL PICHEGRU







      VOLUME III.
    






          I.
        

NAPOLEON (Second Portrait)






          II.
        

MARSHAL NEY (First Portrait)






          III.
        

CAULAINCOURT, DUKE OF VICENZA






          IV.
        

MARSHAL DAVOUST






          V.
        

THE CHARGE OF THE CUIRASSIERS AT EYLAU






          VI.
        

GENERAL JUNOT






          VII.
        

MARSHAL SOULT






          VIII.
        

THE EMPRESS MARIA LOUISA (First Portrait)






          IX.
        

GENERAL LASALLE






          X.
        

MARSHAL MASSENA






          XI.
        

COLOURED MAP OF EUROPE TO ILLUSTRATE THE
          DOMINION OF NAPOLEON













      VOLUME IV.
    






          I.
        

THE EMPRESS MARIA LOUISA (Second Portrait)






          II.
        

MARSHAL MACDONALD






          III.
        

FACSIMILE OF THE EMPEROR'S ABDICATION IN
          1814






          IV.
        

NAPOLEON I. (Third Portrait)






          V.
        

MARSHAL SUCHET






          VI.
        

THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON






          VIII.
        

MARSHAL BLUCHER






          IX.
        

MARSHAL GOUVON ST. CYR






          X.
        

MARSHAL NEY (Second Portrait)






          XI.
        

THE KING OF ROME






          XII.
        

GENERAL BESSIERES

















 
  









 
  








front1 (96K)



































      PREFACE 1836 EDITION.
    







      In introducing the present edition of M. de Bourrienne's Memoirs to the
      public we are bound, as Editors, to say a few Words on the subject.
      Agreeing, however, with Horace Walpole that an editor should not dwell for
      any length of time on the merits of his author, we shall touch but lightly
      on this part of the matter. We are the more ready to abstain since the
      great success in England of the former editions of these Memoirs, and the
      high reputation they have acquired on the European Continent, and in every
      part of the civilised world where the fame of Bonaparte has ever reached,
      sufficiently establish the merits of M. de Bourrienne as a biographer.
      These merits seem to us to consist chiefly in an anxious desire to be
      impartial, to point out the defects as well as the merits of a most
      wonderful man; and in a peculiarly graphic power of relating facts and
      anecdotes. With this happy faculty Bourrienne would have made the life of
      almost any active individual interesting; but the subject of which the
      most favourable circumstances permitted him to treat was full of events
      and of the most extraordinary facts. The hero of his story was such a
      being as the world has produced only on the rarest occasions, and the
      complete counterpart to whom has, probably, never existed; for there are
      broad shades of difference between Napoleon and Alexander, Caesar, and
      Charlemagne; neither will modern history furnish more exact parallels,
      since Gustavus Adolphus, Frederick the Great, Cromwell, Washington, or
      Bolivar bear but a small resemblance to Bonaparte either in character,
      fortune, or extent of enterprise. For fourteen years, to say nothing of
      his projects in the East, the history of Bonaparte was the history of all
      Europe!
    
In introducing this edition of M. de Bourrienne's Memoirs to the public, we, as Editors, feel the need to say a few words on the topic. However, agreeing with Horace Walpole that an editor shouldn’t spend too much time on the merits of their author, we’ll only briefly address this. We’re more than willing to hold back since the previous editions of these Memoirs have achieved great success in England, gaining a strong reputation across the European continent and throughout every part of the civilized world touched by Bonaparte’s fame, which sufficiently demonstrates M. de Bourrienne's skills as a biographer. His strengths seem to lie mainly in a sincere desire to be impartial, pointing out both the flaws and the strengths of a truly remarkable person, and in a uniquely vivid ability to tell facts and stories. With this gift, Bourrienne could have made the life of nearly any active person captivating, but the subject he was fortunate enough to write about was full of events and the most extraordinary facts. The hero of his story was someone the world has seen only on rare occasions, and probably, a true counterpart has never existed; there are significant differences between Napoleon and figures like Alexander, Caesar, and Charlemagne. Likewise, modern history doesn’t provide any exact parallels, as figures such as Gustavus Adolphus, Frederick the Great, Cromwell, Washington, or Bolivar have little resemblance to Bonaparte in character, fortune, or ambition. For fourteen years, aside from his plans in the East, the story of Bonaparte was essentially the story of all of Europe!







      With the copious materials he possessed, M. de Bourrienne has produced a
      work which, for deep interest, excitement, and amusement, can scarcely be
      paralleled by any of the numerous and excellent memoirs for which the
      literature of France is so justly celebrated.
    
With the wealth of materials he had, M. de Bourrienne created a work that, in terms of deep interest, excitement, and entertainment, is hard to match among the many excellent memoirs that make French literature so renowned.







      M. de Bourrienne shows us the hero of Marengo and Austerlitz in his
      night-gown and slippers—with a 'trait de plume' he, in a hundred
      instances, places the real man before us, with all his personal habits and
      peculiarities of manner, temper, and conversation.
    
M. de Bourrienne presents the hero of Marengo and Austerlitz in his pajamas and slippers—with a stroke of his pen, he vividly brings the real man to life in countless ways, showcasing all his personal habits, quirks, temperament, and style of conversation.







      The friendship between Bonaparte and Bourrienne began in boyhood, at the
      school of Brienne, and their unreserved intimacy continued during the most
      brilliant part of Napoleon's career. We have said enough, the motives for
      his writing this work and his competency for the task will be best
      explained in M. de Bourrienne's own words, which the reader will find in
      the Introductory Chapter.
    
The friendship between Bonaparte and Bourrienne started when they were kids at the school of Brienne, and their close bond remained strong through the peak of Napoleon's career. We’ve said enough; the reasons for him writing this work and his ability to do so will be best explained in M. de Bourrienne’s own words, which you can find in the Introductory Chapter.







      M. de Bourrienne says little of Napoleon after his first abdication and
      retirement to Elba in 1814: we have endeavoured to fill up the chasm thus
      left by following his hero through the remaining seven years of his life,
      to the "last scenes of all" that ended his "strange, eventful history,"—to
      his deathbed and alien grave at St. Helena. A completeness will thus be
      given to the work which it did not before possess, and which we hope will,
      with the other additions and improvements already alluded to, tend to give
      it a place in every well-selected library, as one of the most satisfactory
      of all the lives of Napoleon.
    
M. de Bourrienne doesn't say much about Napoleon after his first abdication and retirement to Elba in 1814. We've tried to fill this gap by following his journey through the last seven years of his life, up to the "final scenes" that concluded his "strange, eventful history,"—his deathbed and foreign grave at St. Helena. This will give the work a completeness it previously lacked, and we hope that along with the other enhancements and improvements mentioned, it will earn a place in every carefully chosen library, as one of the most satisfying biographies of Napoleon.



      LONDON, 1836.
    
LONDON, 1836.





  





  








      PREFACE 1885 EDITION.
    







      The Memoirs of the time of Napoleon may be divided into two classes—those
      by marshals and officers, of which Suchet's is a good example, chiefly
      devoted to military movements, and those by persons employed in the
      administration and in the Court, giving us not only materials for history,
      but also valuable details of the personal and inner life of the great
      Emperor and of his immediate surroundings. Of this latter class the
      Memoirs of Bourrienne are among the most important.
    
The Memoirs from the time of Napoleon can be divided into two categories—those by marshals and officers, like Suchet's, which focus mainly on military operations, and those by individuals involved in the administration and the Court, providing us with historical insights as well as valuable details about the personal and inner life of the great Emperor and his close associates. Among this second category, Bourrienne's Memoirs are some of the most significant.







      Long the intimate and personal friend of Napoleon both at school and from
      the end of the Italian campaigns in 1797 till 1802—working in the
      same room with him, using the same purse, the confidant of most of his
      schemes, and, as his secretary, having the largest part of all the
      official and private correspondence of the time passed through his hands,
      Bourrienne occupied an invaluable position for storing and recording
      materials for history. The Memoirs of his successor, Meneval, are more
      those of an esteemed private secretary; yet, valuable and interesting as
      they are, they want the peculiarity of position which marks those of
      Bourrienne, who was a compound of secretary, minister, and friend. The
      accounts of such men as Miot de Melito, Raederer, etc., are most valuable,
      but these writers were not in that close contact with Napoleon enjoyed by
      Bourrienne. Bourrienne's position was simply unique, and we can only
      regret that he did not occupy it till the end of the Empire. Thus it is
      natural that his Memoirs should have been largely used by historians, and
      to properly understand the history of the time, they must be read by all
      students. They are indeed full of interest for every one. But they also
      require to be read with great caution. When we meet with praise of
      Napoleon, we may generally believe it, for, as Thiers (Consulat., ii. 279)
      says, Bourrienne need be little suspected on this side, for although he
      owed everything to Napoleon, he has not seemed to remember it. But very
      often in passages in which blame is thrown on Napoleon, Bourrienne speaks,
      partly with much of the natural bitterness of a former and discarded
      friend, and partly with the curious mixed feeling which even the brothers
      of Napoleon display in their Memoirs, pride in the wonderful abilities
      evinced by the man with whom he was allied, and jealousy at the way in
      which he was outshone by the man he had in youth regarded as inferior to
      himself. Sometimes also we may even suspect the praise. Thus when
      Bourrienne defends Napoleon for giving, as he alleges, poison to the sick
      at Jaffa, a doubt arises whether his object was to really defend what to
      most Englishmen of this day, with remembrances of the deeds and
      resolutions of the Indian Mutiny, will seem an act to be pardoned, if not
      approved; or whether he was more anxious to fix the committal of the act
      on Napoleon at a time when public opinion loudly blamed it. The same may
      be said of his defence of the massacre of the prisoners of Jaffa.
    
Bourrienne was a close and personal friend of Napoleon from their school days and from the end of the Italian campaigns in 1797 until 1802. They worked in the same office, shared expenses, and Bourrienne was trusted with many of Napoleon's plans. As Napoleon's secretary, he handled most of the official and private correspondence of that time, putting him in a unique position to collect and document historical materials. The Memoirs of his successor, Meneval, reflect the insights of a respected private secretary, but while they are valuable and interesting, they lack the distinct perspective that Bourrienne had, as he was a mix of secretary, minister, and friend. Accounts from others like Miot de Melito and Raederer are very valuable, but these writers didn’t have the same level of intimacy with Napoleon as Bourrienne did. Bourrienne's role was truly unique, and it's unfortunate that he didn't remain in it until the end of the Empire. As a result, it's understandable that historians have extensively used his Memoirs, and to really grasp the history of that era, every student should read them. They are genuinely engaging for everyone. However, they also need to be approached with caution. When Bourrienne praises Napoleon, it’s usually credible; as Thiers (Consulat., ii. 279) points out, Bourrienne, who owed everything to Napoleon, doesn’t seem to have forgotten his gratitude. But there are many instances where Bourrienne criticizes Napoleon, expressing some of the natural bitterness of a former friend who was left behind, as well as the complicated feelings even Napoleon's brothers show in their Memoirs, where they feel pride in his skills yet jealousy over being overshadowed by someone they once thought was beneath them. At times, we might even question his praise. For example, when Bourrienne defends Napoleon for allegedly giving poison to the sick at Jaffa, it raises doubts about whether he genuinely aims to justify an act that most English people today, remembering the events of the Indian Mutiny, would see as something to be forgiven, if not applauded, or if he is more intent on assigning responsibility for the deed to Napoleon at a time when public opinion was harshly criticizing it. The same skepticism applies to his defense of the massacre of prisoners at Jaffa.







      Louis Antoine Fauvelet de Bourrienne was born in 1769, that is, in the
      same year as Napoleon Bonaparte, and he was the friend and companion of
      the future Emperor at the military school of Brienne-le-Chateau till 1784,
      when Napoleon, one of the sixty pupils maintained at the expense of the
      State, was passed on to the Military School of Paris. The friends again
      met in 1792 and in 1795, when Napoleon was hanging about Paris, and when
      Bourrienne looked on the vague dreams of his old schoolmate as only so
      much folly. In 1796, as soon as Napoleon had assured his position at the
      head of the army of Italy, anxious as ever to surround himself with known
      faces, he sent for Bourrienne to be his secretary. Bourrienne had been
      appointed in 1792 as secretary of the Legation at Stuttgart, and had,
      probably wisely, disobeyed the orders given him to return, thus escaping
      the dangers of the Revolution. He only came back to Paris in 1795, having
      thus become an emigre. He joined Napoleon in 1797, after the Austrians had
      been beaten out of Italy, and at once assumed the office of secretary
      which he held for so long. He had sufficient tact to forbear treating the
      haughty young General with any assumption of familiarity in public, and he
      was indefatigable enough to please even the never-resting Napoleon. Talent
      Bourrienne had in abundance; indeed he is careful to hint that at school
      if any one had been asked to predict greatness for any pupil, it was
      Bourrienne, not Napoleon, who would have been fixed on as the future star.
      He went with his General to Egypt, and returned with him to France. While
      Napoleon was making his formal entry into the Tuileries, Bourrienne was
      preparing the cabinet he was still to share with the Consul. In this
      cabinet—our cabinet, as he is careful to call it—he worked
      with the First Consul till 1802.
    
Louis Antoine Fauvelet de Bourrienne was born in 1769, the same year as Napoleon Bonaparte. He was a friend and companion of the future Emperor at the military school in Brienne-le-Chateau until 1784, when Napoleon, one of the sixty students supported by the State, moved on to the Military School of Paris. The friends met again in 1792 and in 1795 when Napoleon was spending time in Paris, and Bourrienne viewed his old schoolmate's vague ambitions as nothing more than foolishness. In 1796, after Napoleon secured his position at the head of the army in Italy and eager to surround himself with familiar faces, he called for Bourrienne to be his secretary. Bourrienne had been appointed in 1792 as secretary of the Legation in Stuttgart and had wisely disobeyed orders to return, thus avoiding the dangers of the Revolution. He only returned to Paris in 1795, having become an émigré. He joined Napoleon in 1797 after the Austrians were defeated in Italy and immediately took up the secretary position that he held for many years. He had enough tact not to treat the proud young General with familiarity in public, and he worked hard enough to please even the tireless Napoleon. Bourrienne was talented; in fact, he often suggested that during their school days, if anyone had been asked to predict who would achieve greatness, it would have been Bourrienne, not Napoleon, who would be seen as the future star. He accompanied his General to Egypt and returned with him to France. While Napoleon was making his formal entrance into the Tuileries, Bourrienne was preparing the office they would share. In this office—what he refers to as our office—he worked with the First Consul until 1802.







      During all this time the pair lead lived on terms of equality and
      friendship creditable to both. The secretary neither asked for nor
      received any salary: when he required money, he simply dipped into the
      cash-box of the First Consul. As the whole power of the State gradually
      passed into the hands of the Consul, the labours of the secretary became
      heavier. His successor broke down under a lighter load, and had to receive
      assistance; but, perhaps borne up by the absorbing interest of the work
      and the great influence given by his post, Bourrienne stuck to his place,
      and to all appearance might, except for himself, have come down to us as
      the companion of Napoleon during his whole life. He had enemies, and one
      of them—[Boulay de la Meurthe.]—has not shrunk from describing
      their gratification at the disgrace of the trusted secretary. Any one in
      favour, or indeed in office, under Napoleon was the sure mark of calumny
      for all aspirants to place; yet Bourrienne might have weathered any
      temporary storm raised by unfounded reports as successfully as Meneval,
      who followed him. But Bourrienne's hands were not clean in money matters,
      and that was an unpardonable sin in any one who desired to be in real
      intimacy with Napoleon. He became involved in the affairs of the House of
      Coulon, which failed, as will be seen in the notes, at the time of his
      disgrace; and in October 1802 he was called on to hand over his office to
      Meneval, who retained it till invalided after the Russian campaign.
    
During this time, the two lived together as equals and friends, a relationship admirable for both. The secretary neither asked for nor received a salary; when he needed money, he simply took it from the First Consul’s cash box. As the Consul gradually took more power, the secretary’s tasks became heavier. His successor couldn't handle even a lighter load and needed help; however, perhaps fueled by the intense interest of the work and the significant influence afforded by his position, Bourrienne managed to stay on, and seemingly might have been remembered as Napoleon's companion for life, if not for his own actions. He had enemies, and one of them—[Boulay de la Meurthe.]—didn’t hesitate to express their satisfaction at the downfall of the trusted secretary. Anyone who was favored or held a position under Napoleon became a target for slander from those aiming for power; yet Bourrienne could have weathered any temporary backlash from baseless rumors as successfully as Meneval, who succeeded him. However, Bourrienne’s hands were not clean regarding financial matters, which was a serious flaw for anyone wanting to be closely associated with Napoleon. He got caught up in the issues surrounding the House of Coulon, which collapsed, as will be noted, around the time of his disgrace; and in October 1802, he was asked to hand over his position to Meneval, who kept it until he was invalided after the Russian campaign.







      As has been said, Bourrienne would naturally be the mark for many
      accusations, but the conclusive proof of his misconduct—at least for
      any one acquainted with Napoleon's objection and dislike to changes in
      office, whether from his strong belief in the effects of training, or his
      equally strong dislike of new faces round him—is that he was never
      again employed near his old comrade; indeed he really never saw the
      Emperor again at any private interview, except when granted the naval
      official reception in 1805, before leaving to take up his post at Hamburg,
      which he held till 1810. We know that his re-employment was urged by
      Josephine and several of his former companions. Savary himself says he
      tried his advocacy; but Napoleon was inexorable to those who, in his own
      phrase, had sacrificed to the golden calf.
    
As mentioned before, Bourrienne would naturally be a target for many accusations, but the undeniable proof of his wrongdoings—at least for anyone familiar with Napoleon's aversion to changes in staff, whether due to his strong belief in the importance of training or his equally strong dislike of new faces around him—is that he was never again employed close to his old friend; in fact, he never really saw the Emperor again for any private meetings, except during the naval official reception in 1805, just before he left to take up his position in Hamburg, which he held until 1810. We know that Josephine and several of his former colleagues pushed for his return. Savary himself said he tried to advocate for him; but Napoleon was unyielding towards those who, in his own words, had sacrificed to the golden calf.







      Sent, as we have said, to Hamburg in 1805, as Minister Plenipotentiary to
      the Duke of Brunswick, the Duke of Mecklenburg-Schwerin, and to the Hanse
      towns, Bourrienne knew how to make his post an important one. He was at
      one of the great seats of the commerce which suffered so fearfully from
      the Continental system of the Emperor, and he was charged to watch over
      the German press. How well he fulfilled this duty we learn from
      Metternich, who writes in 1805: "I have sent an article to the newspaper
      editors in Berlin and to M. de Hofer at Hamburg. I do not know whether it
      has been accepted, for M. Bourrienne still exercises an authority so
      severe over these journals that they are always submitted to him before
      they appear, that he may erase or alter the articles which do not please
      him."
    
Sent, as we mentioned, to Hamburg in 1805 as the Minister Plenipotentiary to the Duke of Brunswick, the Duke of Mecklenburg-Schwerin, and the Hanse towns, Bourrienne managed to make his position a significant one. He was at one of the major centers of commerce that was severely impacted by the Emperor's Continental system, and he was tasked with overseeing the German press. We learn how well he performed this duty from Metternich, who wrote in 1805: "I have sent an article to the newspaper editors in Berlin and to M. de Hofer in Hamburg. I don't know if it has been accepted, since M. Bourrienne still holds such strict authority over these publications that they always go to him before they are published, so he can erase or change any articles he doesn't like."







      His position at Hamburg gave him great opportunities for both financial
      and political intrigues. In his Memoirs, as Meneval remarks, he or his
      editor is not ashamed to boast of being thanked by Louis XVIII. at St.
      Ouen for services rendered while he was the minister of Napoleon at
      Hamburg. He was recalled in 1810, when the Hanse towns were united, or, to
      use the phrase of the day, re-united to the Empire. He then hung about
      Paris, keeping on good terms with some of the ministers—Savary, not
      the most reputable of them, for example. In 1814 he was to be found at the
      office of Lavallette, the head of the posts, disguising, his enemies said,
      his delight at the bad news which was pouring in, by exaggerated
      expressions of devotion. He is accused of a close and suspicious
      connection with Talleyrand, and it is odd that when Talleyrand became head
      of the Provisional Government in 1814, Bourrienne of all persons should
      have been put at the head of the posts. Received in the most flattering
      manner by Louis XVIII, he was as astonished as poor Beugnot was in 1815,
      to find himself on 13th May suddenly ejected from office, having, however,
      had time to furnish post-horses to Manbreuil for the mysterious
      expedition, said to have been at least known to Talleyrand, and intended
      certainly for the robbery of the Queen of Westphalia, and probably for the
      murder of Napoleon.
    
His position in Hamburg provided him with significant opportunities for both financial and political schemes. In his Memoirs, as Meneval points out, he or his editor openly boasts about being thanked by Louis XVIII at St. Ouen for his services while he was Napoleon’s minister in Hamburg. He was recalled in 1810, when the Hanse towns were united, or, as people said at the time, re-united with the Empire. He then lingered in Paris, maintaining good relationships with some ministers—like Savary, who wasn't the most reputable of them. In 1814, he was found at Lavallette’s office, the head of the postal service, hiding, according to his enemies, his satisfaction with the bad news flooding in by overdoing his expressions of loyalty. He was accused of having a close and suspicious relationship with Talleyrand, and it’s strange that when Talleyrand became the head of the Provisional Government in 1814, Bourrienne of all people was appointed to lead the postal service. Warmly welcomed by Louis XVIII, he was as shocked as poor Beugnot was in 1815 to suddenly find himself ousted from office on May 13, although he had managed to arrange post-horses for Manbreuil for the mysterious mission, which was said to be at least known to Talleyrand and was certainly intended for the robbery of the Queen of Westphalia, and probably for the assassination of Napoleon.







      In the extraordinary scurry before the Bourbons scuttled out of Paris in
      1814, Bourrienne was made Prefet of the Police for a few days, his tenure
      of that post being signalised by the abortive attempt to arrest Fouché,
      the only effect of which was to drive that wily minister into the arms of
      the Bonapartists.
    
In the chaotic rush before the Bourbons fled Paris in 1814, Bourrienne was appointed Police Prefect for a few days, and his time in that role was marked by the failed attempt to arrest Fouché, which only pushed that clever minister towards the Bonapartists.







      He fled with the King, and was exempted from the amnesty proclaimed by
      Napoleon. On the return from Ghent he was made a Minister of State without
      portfolio, and also became one of the Council. The ruin of his finances
      drove him out of France, but he eventually died in a madhouse at Caen.
    
He escaped with the King and was excluded from the amnesty declared by Napoleon. Upon returning from Ghent, he was appointed as a Minister of State without a specific role and also became a member of the Council. The collapse of his finances forced him out of France, but he ultimately died in a mental institution in Caen.







      When the Memoirs first appeared in 1829 they made a great sensation. Till
      then in most writings Napoleon had been treated as either a demon or as a
      demi-god. The real facts of the case were not suited to the tastes of
      either his enemies or his admirers. While the monarchs of Europe had been
      disputing among themselves about the division of the spoils to be obtained
      from France and from the unsettlement of the Continent, there had arisen
      an extraordinarily clever and unscrupulous man who, by alternately bribing
      and overthrowing the great monarchies, had soon made himself master of the
      mainland. His admirers were unwilling to admit the part played in his
      success by the jealousy of his foes of each other's share in the booty,
      and they delighted to invest him with every great quality which man could
      possess. His enemies were ready enough to allow his military talents, but
      they wished to attribute the first success of his not very deep policy to
      a marvellous duplicity, apparently considered by them the more wicked as
      possessed by a parvenu emperor, and far removed, in a moral point of view,
      from the statecraft so allowable in an ancient monarchy. But for Napoleon
      himself and his family and Court there was literally no limit to the
      really marvellous inventions of his enemies. He might enter every capital
      on the Continent, but there was some consolation in believing that he
      himself was a monster of wickedness, and his Court but the scene of one
      long protracted orgie.
    
When the Memoirs first came out in 1829, they caused quite a stir. Until then, most writings portrayed Napoleon as either a villain or a godlike figure. The actual truth didn't fit the narratives favored by his enemies or his fans. While the monarchs of Europe were arguing about how to divide the treasures from France and the chaos across the continent, an incredibly smart and ruthless man emerged. By bribing and toppling the powerful monarchies, he quickly took control of the mainland. His supporters refused to acknowledge that jealousy among his opponents played a role in his success, and they eagerly assigned him every admirable trait a person could have. His adversaries were quick to recognize his military skills, but they insisted that the early success of his not-so-deep strategy came from a cunning deceit they deemed more vile because it came from a newly risen emperor, far removed morally from the clever tactics seen in ancient monarchies. However, for Napoleon himself and his family and Court, there seemed to be no bounds to the outrageous fabrications spread by his enemies. He could enter every capital in the continent, but there was some comfort in believing that he was a true monster and that his Court was merely the setting for one long, drawn-out party.







      There was enough against the Emperor in the Memoirs to make them
      comfortable reading for his opponents, though very many of the old
      calumnies were disposed of in them. They contained indeed the nearest
      approximation to the truth which had yet appeared. Metternich, who must
      have been a good judge, as no man was better acquainted with what he
      himself calls the "age of Napoleon," says of the Memoirs: "If you want
      something to read, both interesting and amusing, get the Memoires de
      Bourrienne. These are the only authentic Memoirs of Napoleon which have
      yet appeared. The style is not brilliant, but that only makes them the
      mere trustworthy." Indeed, Metternich himself in his own Memoirs often
      follows a good deal in the line of Bourrienne: among many formal attacks,
      every now and then he lapses into half involuntary and indirect praise of
      his great antagonist, especially where he compares the men he had to deal
      with in aftertimes with his former rapid and talented interlocutor. To
      some even among the Bonapartists, Bourrienne was not altogether
      distasteful. Lucien Bonaparte, remarking that the time in which Bourrienne
      treated with Napoleon as equal with equal did not last long enough for the
      secretary, says he has taken a little revenge in his Memoirs, just as a
      lover, after a break with his mistress, reveals all her defects. But
      Lucien considers that Bourrienne gives us a good enough idea of the young
      officer of the artillery, of the great General, and of the First Consul.
      Of the Emperor, says Lucien, he was too much in retirement to be able to
      judge equally well. But Lucien was not a fair representative of the
      Bonapartists; indeed he had never really thought well of his brother or of
      his actions since Lucien, the former "Brutus" Bonaparte, had ceased to be
      the adviser of the Consul. It was well for Lucien himself to amass a
      fortune from the presents of a corrupt court, and to be made a Prince and
      Duke by the Pope, but he was too sincere a republican not to disapprove of
      the imperial system. The real Bonapartists were naturally and inevitably
      furious with the Memoirs. They were not true, they were not the work of
      Bourrienne, Bourrienne himself was a traitor, a purloiner of manuscripts,
      his memory was as bad as his principles, he was not even entitled to the
      de before his name. If the Memoirs were at all to be pardoned, it was
      because his share was only really a few notes wrung from him by large
      pecuniary offers at a time when he was pursued by his creditors, and when
      his brain was already affected.
    
There was enough against the Emperor in the Memoirs to make them enjoyable for his opponents, although many of the old slanders were addressed. They offered the closest version of the truth that had come out so far. Metternich, who was well-qualified to judge since no one knew the "age of Napoleon" better, stated about the Memoirs: "If you want something interesting and entertaining to read, get the Memoires de Bourrienne. These are the only authentic Memoirs of Napoleon that exist so far. The writing isn’t flashy, but that just makes them more reliable." In fact, Metternich often follows Bourrienne’s style in his own Memoirs; amidst numerous formal critiques, he occasionally slips into half-unintentional praise for his formidable rival, especially when he compares the men he dealt with later to his quick-witted and talented counterpart from before. Some Bonapartists even found Bourrienne somewhat acceptable. Lucien Bonaparte noted that the time Bourrienne spent treating Napoleon as an equal was too brief for him, suggesting Bourrienne got a bit of revenge in his Memoirs, much like a jilted lover airing their ex’s flaws. However, Lucien felt that Bourrienne provided a decent picture of the young artillery officer, the great General, and the First Consul. As for the Emperor, Lucien argued that Bourrienne had been too withdrawn to judge him fairly. But Lucien wasn't an accurate representative of the Bonapartists; he never really approved of his brother or his actions since he, the former "Brutus" Bonaparte, stopped advising the Consul. While it was beneficial for Lucien to build wealth from a corrupt court's gifts and to be made a Prince and Duke by the Pope, he was too genuine a republican to support the imperial system. True Bonapartists were naturally outraged by the Memoirs. They claimed they weren't authentic, weren't written by Bourrienne, he was a traitor, a thief of manuscripts, his memory was as questionable as his morals, and he didn't even deserve the "de" before his name. If the Memoirs were to be excused at all, it was only because his involvement was basically a few notes extracted from him through significant financial offers at a time when he was harassed by his creditors and his mind was already affected.







      The Bonapartist attack on the Memoirs was delivered in full form, in two
      volumes, 'Bourrienne et ses Erreurs, Volontaires et Involontaires' (Paris,
      Heideloff, 1830), edited by the Comte d'Aure, the Ordonnateur en Chef of
      the Egyptian expedition, and containing communications from Joseph
      Bonaparte, Gourgaud, Stein, etc.'
    
The Bonapartist criticism of the Memoirs was presented in detail, in two volumes, 'Bourrienne and His Errors, Voluntary and Involuntary' (Paris, Heideloff, 1830), edited by Count d'Aure, the Chief Organizer of the Egyptian expedition, and including messages from Joseph Bonaparte, Gourgaud, Stein, and others.






 —[In the notes in this present edition these volumes are referred
   to in brief 'Erreurs'.]— 
—[In the notes in this edition, these volumes are referred to briefly as 'Erreurs'.]—







      Part of the system of attack was to call in question the authenticity of
      the Memoirs, and this was the more easy as Bourrienne, losing his fortune,
      died in 1834 in a state of imbecility. But this plan is not systematically
      followed, and the very reproaches addressed to the writer of the Memoirs
      often show that it was believed they were really written by Bourrienne.
      They undoubtedly contain plenty of faults. The editor (Villemarest, it is
      said) probably had a large share in the work, and Bourrienne must have
      forgotten or misplaced many dates and occurrences. In such a work,
      undertaken so many years after the events, it was inevitable that many
      errors should be made, and that many statements should be at least
      debatable. But on close investigation the work stands the attack in a way
      that would be impossible unless it had really been written by a person in
      the peculiar position occupied by Bourrienne. He has assuredly not
      exaggerated that position: he really, says Lucien Bonaparte, treated as
      equal with equal with Napoleon during a part of his career, and he
      certainly was the nearest friend and confidant that Napoleon ever had in
      his life.
    
Part of the strategy to undermine the Memoirs was to question their authenticity, which was easier since Bourrienne, having lost his fortune, passed away in 1834 in a state of confusion. However, this tactic wasn't consistently applied, and the very criticisms aimed at the Memoirs’ author often indicated that people believed they were genuinely written by Bourrienne. They definitely include many errors. The editor (reportedly Villemarest) likely played a significant role in the work, and Bourrienne must have forgotten or mixed up various dates and events. In a project like this, done so many years after the events, it was inevitable that many mistakes would be made, and that numerous claims would be at least questionable. But upon closer examination, the work withstands criticism in a way that would be impossible unless it had truly been written by someone in the unique position Bourrienne held. He certainly hasn't exaggerated that position: according to Lucien Bonaparte, he was treated as an equal by Napoleon for part of his career, and he was undoubtedly Napoleon's closest friend and confidant throughout his life.







      Where he fails, or where the Bonapartist fire is most telling, is in the
      account of the Egyptian expedition. It may seem odd that he should have
      forgotten, even in some thirty years, details such as the way in which the
      sick were removed; but such matters were not in his province; and it would
      be easy to match similar omissions in other works, such as the accounts of
      the Crimea, and still more of the Peninsula. It is with his personal
      relations with Napoleon that we are most concerned, and it is in them that
      his account receives most corroboration.
    
Where he falls short, or where the Bonapartist vibe is most apparent, is in the depiction of the Egyptian expedition. It might seem strange that he could forget, even after thirty years, details like how the sick were evacuated; but those matters weren't his responsibility. There are plenty of similar gaps in other accounts, like those of the Crimea, and even more so of the Peninsula. Our main focus is his personal interactions with Napoleon, and it's in those that his account gets the most validation.







      It may be interesting to see what has been said of the Memoirs by other
      writers. We have quoted Metternich, and Lucien Bonaparte; let us hear
      Meneval, his successor, who remained faithful to his master to the end:
      "Absolute confidence cannot be given to statements contained in Memoirs
      published under the name of a man who has not composed them. It is known
      that the editor of these Memoirs offered to M. de Bourrienne, who had then
      taken refuge in Holstein from his creditors, a sum said to be thirty
      thousand francs to obtain his signature to them, with some notes and
      addenda. M. de Bourrienne was already attacked by the disease from which
      he died a few years latter in a maison de sante at Caen. Many literary men
      co-operated in the preparation of his Memoirs. In 1825 I met M. de
      Bourrienne in Paris. He told me it had been suggested to him to write
      against the Emperor. 'Notwithstanding the harm he has done me,' said he,
      'I would never do so. Sooner may my hand be withered.' If M. de Bourrienne
      had prepared his Memoirs himself, he would not have stated that while he
      was the Emperor's minister at Hamburg he worked with the agents of the
      Comte de Lille (Louis XVIII.) at the preparation of proclamations in
      favour of that Prince, and that in 1814 he accepted the thanks of the
      King, Louis XVIII., for doing so; he would not have said that Napoleon had
      confided to him in 1805 that he had never conceived the idea of an
      expedition into England, and that the plan of a landing, the preparations
      for which he gave such publicity to, was only a snare to amuse fools. The
      Emperor well knew that never was there a plan more seriously conceived or
      more positively settled. M. de Bourrienne would not have spoken of his
      private interviews with Napoleon, nor of the alleged confidences entrusted
      to him, while really Napoleon had no longer received him after the 20th
      October 1802. When the Emperor, in 1805, forgetting his faults, named him
      Minister Plenipotentiary at Hamburg, he granted him the customary
      audience, but to this favour he did not add the return of his former
      friendship. Both before and afterwards he constantly refused to receive
      him, and he did not correspond with him." (Meneval, ii. 378-79). And in
      another passage Meneval says: "Besides, it would be wrong to regard these
      Memoirs as the work of the man whose name they bear. The bitter resentment
      M. de Bourrienne had nourished for his disgrace, the enfeeblement of his
      faculties, and the poverty he was reduced to, rendered him accessible to
      the pecuniary offers made to him. He consented to give the authority of
      his name to Memoirs in whose composition he had only co-operated by
      incomplete, confused, and often inexact notes, materials which an editor
      was employed to put in order." And Meneval (iii. 29-30) goes on to quote
      what he himself had written in the Spectateur Militaire, in which he makes
      much the same assertions, and especially objects to the account of
      conversations with the Emperor after 1802, except always the one audience
      on taking leave for Hamburg. Meneval also says that Napoleon, when he
      wished to obtain intelligence from Hamburg, did not correspond with
      Bourrienne, but deputed him, Meneval, to ask Bourrienne for what was
      wanted. But he corroborates Bourrienne on the subject of the efforts made,
      among others by Josephine, for his reappointment.
    
It might be interesting to see what other writers have said about the Memoirs. We’ve quoted Metternich and Lucien Bonaparte; now let’s hear from Meneval, his successor, who stayed loyal to his master until the end: "You can’t fully trust the statements in Memoirs published under the name of someone who didn’t write them. It’s known that the editor of these Memoirs offered M. de Bourrienne, who had taken refuge in Holstein from his creditors at the time, a reported thirty thousand francs to get his signature on them, along with some notes and additions. M. de Bourrienne was already suffering from the illness that would lead to his death a few years later in a mental health facility in Caen. Many writers helped prepare his Memoirs. In 1825, I met M. de Bourrienne in Paris. He told me he had been encouraged to write against the Emperor. 'Despite the harm he has done me,' he said, 'I would never do that. I’d rather my hand be withered.' If M. de Bourrienne had written his Memoirs himself, he wouldn’t have claimed that while he was the Emperor’s minister in Hamburg, he collaborated with the agents of Comte de Lille (Louis XVIII.) to prepare proclamations in favor of that Prince, and that in 1814, he accepted the King’s thanks for doing so; he wouldn’t have said that Napoleon confided to him in 1805 that he had never planned an expedition to England and that the publicized landing plan was just a trap to fool the naïve. The Emperor knew very well that there had never been a more serious or determined plan. M. de Bourrienne wouldn’t have talked about his private meetings with Napoleon or the supposed secrets shared with him, especially since Napoleon had not received him after October 20, 1802. When the Emperor, in 1805, set aside his grievances and appointed him Minister Plenipotentiary in Hamburg, he granted M. de Bourrienne the usual audience, but did not resume their former friendship. Both before and after, he continually refused to meet with him, and they did not correspond." (Meneval, ii. 378-79). In another passage, Meneval adds: "Moreover, it would be incorrect to consider these Memoirs as the work of the man whose name is on them. The bitterness M. de Bourrienne felt over his disgrace, the decline of his faculties, and the poverty he faced made him open to the financial offers he received. He agreed to lend his name to Memoirs in whose creation he had only contributed through incomplete, unclear, and often inaccurate notes, which an editor then organized." Meneval (iii. 29-30) continues to quote what he had written in the Spectateur Militaire, where he makes similar claims and specifically disputes the accounts of conversations with the Emperor after 1802, except for that one farewell audience before Hamburg. Meneval also states that when Napoleon wanted to gather intelligence from Hamburg, he didn’t correspond with Bourrienne but sent Meneval to ask Bourrienne for what he needed. However, he supports Bourrienne regarding the attempts made, including by Josephine, for his reappointment.







      Such are the statements of the Bonapartists pure; and the reader, as has
      been said, can judge for himself how far the attack is good. Bourrienne,
      or his editor, may well have confused the date of his interviews, but he
      will not be found much astray on many points. His account of the
      conversation of Josephine after the death of the Duc d'Enghien may be
      compared with what we know from Madame de Rémusat, who, by the way, would
      have been horrified if she had known that he considered her to resemble
      the Empress Josephine in character.
    
These are the claims of the true Bonapartists, and the reader, as mentioned, can determine for themselves how valid the critique is. Bourrienne, or his editor, may have mixed up the dates of his meetings, but he's generally accurate on many points. His account of Josephine's conversation after the death of the Duc d'Enghien can be compared with what we know from Madame de Rémusat, who, by the way, would have been shocked if she had realized that he thought she resembled the Empress Josephine in character.







      We now come to the views of Savary, the Duc de Rovigo, who avowedly
      remained on good terms with Bourrienne after his disgrace, though the
      friendship of Savary was not exactly a thing that most men would have much
      prided themselves on. "Bourrienne had a prodigious memory; he spoke and
      wrote in several languages, and his pen ran as quickly as one could speak.
      Nor were these the only advantages he possessed. He knew the routine of
      public business and public law. His activity and devotion made him
      indispensable to the First Consul. I knew the qualities which won for him
      the unlimited confidence of his chief, but I cannot speak with the same
      assurance of the faults which made him lose it. Bourrienne had many
      enemies, both on account of his character and of his place" (Savary, i.
      418-19).
    
We now turn to the opinions of Savary, the Duc de Rovigo, who openly maintained a good relationship with Bourrienne after his fall from grace, even though not many would take pride in being friends with Savary. "Bourrienne had an extraordinary memory; he spoke and wrote in multiple languages, and he could write as fast as one could talk. But those weren't his only strengths. He understood the workings of public business and public law. His energy and dedication made him essential to the First Consul. I recognized the qualities that earned him the complete trust of his leader, but I can't speak with the same certainty about the flaws that caused him to lose it. Bourrienne had many enemies, both because of his personality and his position" (Savary, i. 418-19).







      Marmont ought to be an impartial critic of the Memoirs. He says,
      "Bourrienne . . . had a very great capacity, but he is a striking example
      of the great truth that our passions are always bad counsellors. By
      inspiring us with an immoderate ardour to reach a fixed end, they often
      make us miss it. Bourrienne had an immoderate love of money. With his
      talents and his position near Bonaparte at the first dawn of greatness,
      with the confidence and real good-will which Bonaparte felt for him, in a
      few years he would have gained everything in fortune and in social
      position. But his eager impatience mined his career at the moment when it
      might have developed and increased" (Marmont, i. 64). The criticism
      appears just. As to the Memoirs, Marmont says (ii. 224), "In general,
      these Memoirs are of great veracity and powerful interest so long as they
      treat of what the author has seen and heard; but when he speaks of others,
      his work is only an assemblage of gratuitous suppositions and of false
      facts put forward for special purposes."
    
Marmont should be an unbiased critic of the Memoirs. He says, "Bourrienne… had a remarkable ability, but he exemplifies the important truth that our passions are often poor advisers. By driving us with an excessive desire to achieve a specific goal, they frequently cause us to miss it. Bourrienne had an excessive love for money. With his skills and his position next to Bonaparte at the beginning of his rise to power, along with the trust and genuine goodwill that Bonaparte had for him, in just a few years he could have gained a lot in wealth and social standing. But his restless impatience sabotaged his career just when it could have flourished" (Marmont, i. 64). The criticism seems fair. Regarding the Memoirs, Marmont says (ii. 224), "Overall, these Memoirs are very truthful and engaging as long as they cover what the author has seen and heard; but when he talks about others, his work is simply a collection of unfounded assumptions and false facts presented for specific reasons."







      The Comte Alexandre de Puymaigre, who arrived at Hamburgh soon after
      Bourrienne had left it in 1810, says (page 135) of the part of the Memoirs
      which relates to Hamburg, "I must acknowledge that generally his
      assertions are well founded. This former companion of Napoleon has only
      forgotten to speak of the opinion that they had of him in this town.
    
The Count Alexandre de Puymaigre, who arrived in Hamburg shortly after Bourrienne left in 1810, says (page 135) about the part of the Memoirs that covers Hamburg, "I have to admit that overall his claims are sound. This former companion of Napoleon just forgot to mention how people felt about him in this town."







      "The truth is, that he was believed to have made much money there."
    
"The truth is, he was thought to have made a lot of money there."







      Thus we may take Bourrienne as a clever, able man, who would have risen to
      the highest honours under the Empire had not his short-sighted grasping
      after lucre driven him from office, and prevented him from ever regaining
      it under Napoleon.
    
Thus we can see Bourrienne as a smart, capable guy who would have achieved the highest honors during the Empire if his short-sighted greed hadn't pushed him out of office and kept him from getting it back under Napoleon.







      In the present edition the translation has been carefully compared with
      the original French text. Where in the original text information is given
      which has now become mere matter of history, and where Bourrienne merely
      quotes the documents well enough known at this day, his possession of
      which forms part of the charges of his opponents, advantage has been taken
      to lighten the mass of the Memoirs. This has been done especially where
      they deal with what the writer did not himself see or hear, the part of
      the Memoirs which are of least valve and of which Marmont's opinion has
      just been quoted. But in the personal and more valuable part of the
      Memoirs, where we have the actual knowledge of the secretary himself, the
      original text has been either fully retained, or some few passages
      previously omitted restored. Illustrative notes have been added from the
      Memoirs of the successor of Bourrienne, Meneval, Madame de Rémusat, the
      works of Colonel Iung on 'Bonaparte et Son Temps', and on 'Lucien
      Bonaparte', etc., and other books. Attention has also been paid to the
      attacks of the 'Erreurs', and wherever these criticisms are more than a
      mere expression of disagreement, their purport has been recorded with,
      where possible, some judgment of the evidence. Thus the reader will have
      before him the materials for deciding himself how far, Bourrienne's
      statements are in agreement with the facts and with the accounts of other
      writers.
    
In this edition, the translation has been carefully compared to the original French text. Where the original includes information that is now just historical, and where Bourrienne quotes well-known documents that his opponents use against him, we've taken the opportunity to streamline the Memoirs. This is particularly the case for sections that include things the writer did not personally witness or hear, which are the least valuable parts, as noted by Marmont. However, in the personal and more significant parts of the Memoirs, where we have direct insight from the secretary himself, we have either kept the original text intact or restored a few previously omitted passages. We've added illustrative notes from the Memoirs of Bourrienne's successor, Meneval, as well as from Madame de Rémusat, Colonel Iung's works on 'Bonaparte et Son Temps' and 'Lucien Bonaparte', among others. We've also considered the criticisms from the 'Erreurs', and where these critiques go beyond simple disagreement, we've included their essence along with, when possible, some evaluation of the evidence. This way, readers will have the necessary materials to determine for themselves the extent to which Bourrienne's statements align with the facts and the accounts of other authors.







      At the present time too much attention has been paid to the Memoirs of
      Madame de Rémusat. She, as also Madame Junot, was the wife of a man on
      whom the full shower of imperial favours did not descend, and, womanlike,
      she saw and thought only of the Court life of the great man who was never
      less great than in his Court. She is equally astonished and indignant that
      the Emperor, coming straight from long hours of work with his ministers
      and with his secretary, could not find soft words for the ladies of the
      Court, and that, a horrible thing in the eyes of a Frenchwoman, when a
      mistress threw herself into his arms, he first thought of what political
      knowledge he could obtain from her. Bourrienne, on the other hand, shows
      us the other and the really important side of Napoleon's character. He
      tells us of the long hours in the Cabinet, of the never-resting activity
      of the Consul, of Napoleon's dreams, no ignoble dreams and often realised,
      of great labours of peace as well as of war. He is a witness, and the more
      valuable as a reluctant one, to the marvellous powers of the man who, if
      not the greatest, was at least the one most fully endowed with every great
      quality of mind and body the world has ever seen.
    
Right now, there's been too much focus on the Memoirs of Madame de Rémusat. Like Madame Junot, she was married to a man who didn’t receive all the imperial favors. Being a woman, she mainly saw and thought about the Court life of the great man who was never less impressive than when he was at Court. She is both shocked and outraged that the Emperor, after spending long hours working with his ministers and secretary, couldn’t find kind words for the ladies of the Court. And even worse in the eyes of a Frenchwoman, when a mistress threw herself at him, his first thought was about what political information he could gain from her. In contrast, Bourrienne reveals another, more significant side of Napoleon's character. He describes the long hours in the Cabinet and the tireless work ethic of the Consul, along with Napoleon's lofty ambitions—ambitions that were not base and often came to fruition—in both peace and war. He bears witness to the incredible abilities of a man who, if not the greatest, was certainly one of the most richly equipped with every great quality of mind and body the world has ever seen.



      R. W. P.
    
R.W.P.




 


 




















      AUTHOR'S INTRODUCTION.
    







      The trading upon an illustrious name can alone have given birth to the
      multitude of publications under the titles of historical memoirs, secret
      memoirs, and other rhapsodies which have appeared respecting Napoleon. On
      looking into them it is difficult to determine whether the impudence of
      the writers or the simplicity of certain readers is most astonishing. Yet
      these rude and ill digested compilations, filled with absurd anecdotes,
      fabricated speeches, fictitious crimes or virtues, and disfigured by
      numerous anachronisms, instead of being consigned to just contempt and
      speedy oblivion, have been pushed into notice by speculators, and have
      found zealous partisans and enthusiastic apologists.
    
The trading on a famous name must have led to the many publications with titles like historical memoirs, secret memoirs, and other sentimental pieces about Napoleon. When you look through them, it's hard to tell whether the audacity of the writers or the naivety of some readers is more surprising. Yet, these poorly constructed and poorly researched compilations, filled with ridiculous stories, made-up speeches, fake crimes or virtues, and distorted by many historical inaccuracies, instead of being rightfully ignored and quickly forgotten, have been highlighted by opportunists and have found eager supporters and passionate defenders.






 —[This Introduction has been reprinted as bearing upon the
   character of the work, but refers very often to events of the
   day at the time of its first appearance.]— 
—[This Introduction has been reprinted because it relates to the character of the work, but it frequently references events from the time of its original release.]—







      For a time I entertained the idea of noticing, one by one, the numerous
      errors which have been written respecting Napoleon; but I have renounced a
      task which would have been too laborious to myself, and very tedious to
      the reader. I shall therefore only correct those which come within the
      plan of my work, and which are connected with those facts, to a more
      accurate knowledge of which than any other person can possess I may lay
      claim. There are men who imagine that nothing done by Napoleon will ever
      be forgotten; but must not the slow but inevitable influence of time be
      expected to operate with respect to him? The effect of that influence is,
      that the most important event of an epoch soon sinks, almost imperceptibly
      and almost disregarded, into the immense mass of historical facts. Time,
      in its progress, diminishes the probability as well as the interest of
      such an event, as it gradually wears away the most durable monuments.
    
For a while, I thought about pointing out, one by one, the many mistakes that have been made about Napoleon; but I’ve decided against a task that would have been too labor-intensive for me and very boring for the reader. So, I will only correct those that fit within the scope of my work and are related to facts that I have a better understanding of than anyone else. Some people believe that nothing Napoleon did will ever be forgotten, but shouldn’t we expect the slow but unavoidable impact of time to take effect? This influence means that even the most significant events of a period gradually fade, almost unnoticed and almost ignored, into the vast sea of historical facts. As time goes on, it lessens both the likelihood and the interest in such an event, just as it slowly erodes even the most enduring monuments.







      I attach only a relative importance to what I am about to lay before the
      public. I shall give authentic documents. If all persons who have
      approached Napoleon, at any time and in any place, would candidly record
      what they saw and heard, without passion, the future historian would be
      rich in materials. It is my wish that he who may undertake the difficult
      task of writing the history of Napoleon shall find in my notes information
      useful to the perfection of his work. There he will at least find truth. I
      have not the ambition to wish that what I state should be taken as
      absolute authority; but I hope that it will always be consulted.
    
I consider what I'm about to share with the public to be of relative importance. I will provide real documents. If everyone who has ever interacted with Napoleon, at any time and place, would honestly share what they observed and heard, without bias, future historians would have a wealth of material. I hope that whoever takes on the challenging task of writing Napoleon's history will find my notes useful for their work. They will at least find the truth. I don’t aim for my statements to be seen as absolute authority; rather, I hope they will be referenced consistently.







      I have never before published anything respecting Napoleon. That
      malevolence which fastens itself upon men who have the misfortune to be
      somewhat separated from the crowd has, because there is always more profit
      in saying ill than good, attributed to me several works on Bonaparte;
      among others, 'Les Memoires secrets d'un Homme qui ne l'a pas quitte', par
      M. B———-, and 'Memoires secrets sur Napoleon Bonaparte,
      par M. de B———, and 'Le Precis Historique sur Napoleon'.
      The initial of my name has served to propagate this error. The incredible
      ignorance which runs through those memoirs, the absurdities and
      inconceivable silliness with which they abound, do not permit a man of
      honour and common sense to allow such wretched rhapsodies to be imputed to
      him. I declared in 1816, and at later periods in the French and foreign
      journals, that I had no hand in those publications, and I here formally
      repeat this declaration.
    
I have never published anything about Napoleon before. That negativity that tends to latch onto people who are somewhat set apart from the crowd has, since there's often more gain in saying bad things than good, led people to wrongly attribute several works about Bonaparte to me; among others, 'Les Memoires secrets d'un Homme qui ne l'a pas quitte', by M. B———-, 'Memoires secrets sur Napoleon Bonaparte, by M. de B———, and 'Le Precis Historique sur Napoleon'. The initial of my name has contributed to this misunderstanding. The sheer ignorance present in those memoirs, the absurdities and unbelievable nonsense they contain, prevent a person of honor and common sense from allowing such pathetic drivel to be associated with him. I stated in 1816, and again in later French and foreign journals, that I had no involvement in those publications, and I hereby officially reaffirm that statement.







      But it may be said to me, Why should we place more confidence in you than
      in those who have written before you?
    
But someone might ask me, why should we trust you more than those who came before you?







      My reply shall be plain. I enter the lists one of the last I have read all
      that my predecessors have published confident that all I state is true. I
      have no interest in deceiving, no disgrace to fear, no reward to expect. I
      neither wish to obscure nor embellish his glory. However great Napoleon
      may have been, was he not also liable to pay his tribute to the weakness
      of human nature? I speak of Napoleon such as I have seen him, known him,
      frequently admired and sometimes blamed him. I state what I saw, heard,
      wrote, and thought at the time, under each circumstance that occurred. I
      have not allowed myself to be carried away by the illusions of the
      imagination, nor to be influenced by friendship or hatred. I shall not
      insert a single reflection which did not occur to me at the very moment of
      the event which gave it birth. How many transactions and documents were
      there over which I could but lament!—how many measures, contrary to
      my views, to my principles, and to my character!—while the best
      intentions were incapable of overcoming difficulties which a most powerful
      and decided will rendered almost insurmountable.
    
My response will be straightforward. I’m entering the discussion as one of the last people who has read everything my predecessors have published, confident that everything I say is true. I have no desire to deceive, no shame to fear, and no rewards to expect. I don’t intend to downplay or exaggerate his greatness. No matter how remarkable Napoleon was, wasn’t he also subject to the flaws of human nature? I talk about Napoleon as I’ve seen him, known him, admired him often, and criticized him at times. I share what I saw, heard, wrote, and thought back then, based on each situation that took place. I refuse to be swayed by imagination, nor will I let friendship or animosity shape my views. I won’t include a single thought that didn’t occur to me at the moment the event happened. How many dealings and documents did I only lament over!—how many actions that went against my beliefs, my principles, and my character!—while good intentions couldn’t overcome the challenges that a strong and determined will made almost impossible.







      I also wish the future historian to compare what I say with what others
      have related or may relate. But it will be necessary for him to attend to
      dates, circumstances, difference of situation, change of temperament, and
      age,—for age has much influence over men. We do not think and act at
      fifty as at twenty-five. By exercising this caution he will be able to
      discover the truth, and to establish an opinion for posterity.
    
I also hope future historians will compare my accounts with what others have shared or may share. However, they need to pay attention to dates, circumstances, different situations, changes in attitude, and age—since age greatly influences people. We don't think and act the same at fifty as we do at twenty-five. By being careful about this, they will be able to uncover the truth and form an opinion for future generations.







      The reader must not expect to find in these Memoirs an uninterrupted
      series of all the events which marked the great career of Napoleon; nor
      details of all those battles, with the recital of which so many eminent
      men have usefully and ably occupied themselves. I shall say little about
      whatever I did not see or hear, and which is not supported by official
      documents.
    
The reader shouldn’t expect to find a continuous account of every event that defined Napoleon's remarkable career in these Memoirs, nor will there be details of all the battles that many distinguished individuals have effectively and skillfully covered. I won’t say much about things I didn’t see or hear, and that aren’t backed by official documents.







      Perhaps I shall succeed in confirming truths which have been doubted, and
      in correcting errors which have been adopted. If I sometimes differ from
      the observations and statements of Napoleon at St. Helena, I am far from
      supposing that those who undertook to be the medium of communication
      between him and the public have misrepresented what he said. I am well
      convinced that none of the writers of St. Helena can be taxed with the
      slightest deception; disinterested zeal and nobleness of character are
      undoubted pledges of their veracity. It appears to me perfectly certain
      that Napoleon stated, dictated, or corrected all they have published.
      Their honour is unquestionable; no one can doubt it. That they wrote what
      he communicated must therefore be believed; but it cannot with equal
      confidence be credited that what he communicated was nothing but the
      truth. He seems often to have related as a fact what was really only an
      idea,—an idea, too, brought forth at St. Helena, the child of
      misfortune, and transported by his imagination to Europe in the time of
      his prosperity. His favourite phrase, which was every moment on his lips,
      must not be forgotten—"What will history say—what will
      posterity think?" This passion for leaving behind him a celebrated name is
      one which belongs to the constitution of the human mind; and with Napoleon
      its influence was excessive. In his first Italian campaign he wrote thus
      to General Clarke: "That ambition and the occupation of high offices were
      not sufficient for his satisfaction and happiness, which he had early
      placed in the opinion of Europe and the esteem of posterity." He often
      observed to me that with him the opinion of posterity was the real
      immortality of the soul.
    
Maybe I’ll manage to confirm truths that have been questioned and correct mistakes that have been accepted. If I sometimes disagree with what Napoleon said during his time at St. Helena, I certainly don’t think that those who acted as intermediaries between him and the public misrepresented him. I firmly believe that none of the writers from St. Helena can be accused of any deception; their selfless dedication and honorable character are clear signs of their truthfulness. I am completely convinced that Napoleon stated, dictated, or approved everything they published. Their integrity is beyond question; no one can doubt it. It must therefore be accepted that they wrote down what he shared, but it cannot be equally assumed that what he communicated was nothing but the truth. He often seemed to present his ideas as facts—ideas that originated at St. Helena, the product of his misfortunes, which he imagined telling from his time of prosperity back in Europe. His favorite phrase, which he repeated often, should not be forgotten: “What will history say—what will posterity think?” This desire to leave behind a famous name is part of human nature, and for Napoleon, it was an intense obsession. In his first Italian campaign, he wrote to General Clarke: “That ambition and holding high positions weren’t enough for his satisfaction and happiness, which he had always based on the opinion of Europe and the esteem of posterity.” He frequently mentioned to me that, for him, the opinion of posterity represented the true immortality of the soul.







      It may easily be conceived that Napoleon wished to give to the documents
      which he knew historians would consult a favourable colour, and to direct,
      according to his own views, the judgment of posterity on his actions: But
      it is only by the impartial comparison of periods, positions, and age that
      a well founded decision will be given. About his fortieth year the
      physical constitution of Napoleon sustained considerable change; and it
      may be presumed that his moral qualities were affected by that change. It
      is particularly important not to lose sight of the premature decay of his
      health, which, perhaps, did not permit him always to, possess the vigour
      of memory otherwise consistent enough with his age. The state of our
      organisation often modifies our recollections, our feelings, our manner of
      viewing objects, and the impressions we receive. This will be taken into
      consideration by judicious and thinking men; and for them I write.
    
It's easy to understand that Napoleon wanted to present the documents he knew historians would reference in a positive light and influence how future generations would judge his actions based on his own perspectives. However, a fair assessment can only be made through an unbiased comparison of different times, contexts, and ages. Around the age of forty, Napoleon's physical health underwent significant changes, which likely impacted his moral qualities as well. It's especially important not to overlook the early decline in his health, which may have affected his ability to maintain the mental sharpness that would typically be expected at his age. Our physical state often alters our memories, emotions, outlook on things, and the impressions we gather. Judicious and thoughtful individuals will take this into account, and it's for them that I write.







      What M. de Las Casas states Napoleon to have said in May 1816 on the
      manner of writing his history corroborates the opinion I have expressed.
      It proves that all the facts and observations he communicated or dictated
      were meant to serve as materials. We learn from the Memorial that M. de
      Las Casas wrote daily, and that the manuscript was read over by Napoleon,
      who often made corrections with his own hand. The idea of a journal
      pleased him greatly. He fancied it would be a work of which the world
      could afford no other example. But there are passages in which the order
      of events is deranged; in others facts are misrepresented and erroneous
      assertions are made, I apprehend, not altogether involuntarily.
    
What M. de Las Casas claims Napoleon said in May 1816 about how to write his history supports the view I've shared. It shows that all the facts and observations he provided or dictated were meant to be used as material. We learn from the Memorial that M. de Las Casas wrote every day, and that Napoleon read the manuscript, often making corrections by hand. He was really pleased with the idea of a journal. He imagined it would be a work unlike anything else the world had seen. However, there are parts where the order of events is mixed up; in other sections, facts are misrepresented and incorrect statements are made, I suspect, not entirely unintentionally.







      I have paid particular attention to all that has been published by the
      noble participators of the imperial captivity. Nothing, however, could
      induce me to change a word in these Memoirs, because nothing could take
      from me my conviction of the truth of what I personally heard and saw. It
      will be found that Napoleon in his private conversations often confirms
      what I state; but we sometimes differ, and the public must judge between
      us. However, I must here make one observation.
    
I have focused closely on everything that has been published by the esteemed contributors to the imperial captivity. However, nothing could persuade me to alter a single word in these Memoirs, because nothing can shake my belief in the truth of what I personally experienced and witnessed. You'll find that Napoleon often backs up what I say in his private conversations; but we do occasionally disagree, and it's up to the public to decide between us. Still, I need to make one point here.







      When Napoleon dictated or related to his friends in St. Helena the facts
      which they have reported he was out of the world,—he had played his
      part. Fortune, which, according to his notions, had conferred on him all
      his power and greatness, had recalled all her gifts before he sank into
      the tomb. His ruling passion would induce him to think that it was due to
      his glory to clear up certain facts which might prove an unfavourable
      escort if they accompanied him to posterity. This was his fixed idea. But
      is there not some ground for suspecting the fidelity of him who writes or
      dictates his own history? Why might he not impose on a few persons in St.
      Helena, when he was able to impose on France and Europe, respecting many
      acts which emanated from him during the long duration of his power? The
      life of Napoleon would be very unfaithfully written were the author to
      adopt as true all his bulletins and proclamations, and all the
      declarations he made at St. Helena. Such a history would frequently be in
      contradiction to facts; and such only is that which might be entitled,
      'The History of Napoleon, written by Himself'.
    
When Napoleon dictated or shared with his friends in St. Helena the stories they reported, he was out of touch with reality—he had played his role. Fortune, which he believed had given him all his power and greatness, had taken back her gifts before he passed away. His strong desire led him to think that it was his duty to clarify certain facts that might tarnish his legacy if they followed him into history. This was his fixed idea. But isn't there a reason to doubt the honesty of someone who writes or narrates their own history? Why wouldn't he mislead a few people in St. Helena when he could already deceive France and Europe about many actions he took throughout his long reign? The story of Napoleon would be very misleading if the author accepted all his bulletins and proclamations, as well as everything he stated in St. Helena, as true. Such a narrative would often contradict reality; this is the kind of work that could be titled, 'The History of Napoleon, Written by Himself'.







      I have said thus much because it is my wish that the principles which have
      guided me in the composition of these Memoirs may be understood. I am
      aware that they will not please every reader; that is a success to which I
      cannot pretend. Some merit, however, may be allowed me on account of the
      labour I have undergone. It has neither been of a slight nor an agreeable
      kind. I made it a rule to read everything that has been written respecting
      Napoleon, and I have had to decipher many of his autograph documents,
      though no longer so familiar with his scrawl as formerly. I say decipher,
      because a real cipher might often be much more readily understood than the
      handwriting of Napoleon. My own notes, too, which were often very hastily
      made, in the hand I wrote in my youth, have sometimes also much
      embarrassed me.
    
I've said all of this because I want people to understand the principles that guided me while writing these Memoirs. I know they won’t appeal to every reader; that's a type of success I can't claim. However, I deserve some credit for the effort I’ve put in. It hasn't been easy or enjoyable. I made it a rule to read everything written about Napoleon, and I had to decipher many of his handwritten documents, even though I’m not as familiar with his handwriting as I used to be. I say decipher because a real cipher could often be easier to understand than Napoleon's writing. My own notes, which I often wrote quickly in my youth, have also sometimes caused me quite a bit of confusion.







      My long and intimate connection with Bonaparte from boyhood, my close
      relations with him when General, Consul, and Emperor, enabled me to see
      and appreciate all that was projected and all that was done during that
      considerable and momentous period of time. I not only had the opportunity
      of being present at the conception and the execution of the extraordinary
      deeds of one of the ablest men nature ever formed, but, notwithstanding an
      almost unceasing application to business, I found means to employ the few
      moments of leisure which Bonaparte left at my disposal in making notes,
      collecting documents, and in recording for history facts respecting which
      the truth could otherwise with difficulty be ascertained; and more
      particularly in collecting those ideas, often profound, brilliant, and
      striking, but always remarkable, to which Bonaparte gave expression in the
      overflowing frankness of confidential intimacy.
    
My long and close relationship with Bonaparte since childhood, along with my interactions with him as General, Consul, and Emperor, allowed me to see and understand everything that was planned and accomplished during that significant and transformative period. I not only had the chance to witness the idea and execution of the incredible actions of one of the most skilled individuals ever, but despite his almost constant focus on work, I managed to use the few moments of free time Bonaparte allowed me to take notes, gather documents, and record historical facts that would be hard to verify otherwise. I particularly focused on collecting his ideas, which were often deep, brilliant, and striking, but always noteworthy, as he shared them openly in our confidential conversations.







      The knowledge that I possessed much important information has exposed me
      to many inquiries, and wherever I have resided since my retirement from
      public affairs much of my time has been spent in replying to questions.
      The wish to be acquainted with the most minute details of the life of a
      man formed on an unexampled model is very natural; and the observation on
      my replies by those who heard them always was, "You should publish your
      Memoirs!"
    
The fact that I had a lot of important information has led to many questions, and wherever I've lived since stepping back from public life, I've spent a lot of my time answering those questions. It's completely normal to want to know every little detail about the life of someone who is so uniquely accomplished; and the common response from those who heard my answers was, "You should publish your Memoirs!"







      I had certainly always in view the publication of my Memoirs; but, at the
      same time, I was firmly resolved not to publish them until a period should
      arrive in which I might tell the truth, and the whole truth. While
      Napoleon was in the possession of power I felt it right to resist the
      urgent applications made to me on this subject by some persons of the
      highest distinction. Truth would then have sometimes appeared flattery,
      and sometimes, also, it might not have been without danger. Afterwards,
      when the progress of events removed Bonaparte to a far distant island in
      the midst of the ocean, silence was imposed on me by other
      considerations,-by considerations of propriety and feeling.
    
I had always intended to publish my Memoirs, but I was determined not to do so until I could share the truth, the whole truth. When Napoleon was in power, I felt it was right to ignore the strong requests from some very prominent people regarding this matter. Back then, the truth could sometimes have come off as flattery, and it could also have posed some risks. Later, when events led to Bonaparte being exiled to a remote island in the ocean, I chose to stay silent due to other factors—considerations of propriety and sentiment.







      After the death of Bonaparte, at St. Helena, reasons of a different nature
      retarded the execution of my plan. The tranquillity of a secluded retreat
      was indispensable for preparing and putting in order the abundant
      materials in my possession. I found it also necessary to read a great
      number of works, in order to rectify important errors to which the want of
      authentic documents had induced the authors to give credit. This
      much-desired retreat was found. I had the good fortune to be introduced,
      through a friend, to the Duchesse de Brancas, and that lady invited me to
      pass some time on one of her estates in Hainault. Received with the most
      agreeable hospitality, I have there enjoyed that tranquillity which could
      alone have rendered the publication of these volumes practicable.
    
After Bonaparte's death on St. Helena, various reasons delayed the execution of my plan. I needed a peaceful place to sort through the wealth of materials I had. It was also essential for me to read a lot of works to correct significant errors that authors had made due to a lack of reliable documents. I eventually found this much-needed retreat. Thanks to a friend, I was introduced to the Duchesse de Brancas, who graciously invited me to spend some time at one of her estates in Hainault. Welcomed with wonderful hospitality, I experienced the calm I needed to make the publication of these volumes possible.



      FAUVELET DE BOURRIENNE
    
FAUVELET DE BOURRIENNE




 


 




















      NOTE.
    







      The Editor of the 1836 edition had added to the Memoirs several chapters
      taken from or founded on other works of the time, so as to make a more
      complete history of the period. These materials have been mostly retained,
      but with the corrections which later publications have made necessary. A
      chapter has now been added to give, a brief account of the part played by
      the chief historical personages during the Cent Jours, and another at the
      end to include the removal of the body of Napoleon from St. Helena to
      France.
    
The editor of the 1836 edition included several chapters from or based on other works from that time to create a more comprehensive history of the period. Most of this material has been kept, but it has been updated to reflect corrections made in later publications. A new chapter has been added to provide a brief overview of the roles played by key historical figures during the Hundred Days, and another at the end to cover the transfer of Napoleon's body from St. Helena to France.







      Two special improvements have, it is hoped, been made in this edition.
      Great care has been taken to get names, dates, and figures rightly given,—points
      much neglected in most translations, though in some few cases, such as
      Davoust, the ordinary but not strictly correct spelling has been followed
      to suit the general reader. The number of references to other works which
      are given in the notes will, it is believed, be of use to any one wishing
      to continue the study of the history of Napoleon, and may preserve them
      from many of the errors too often committed. The present Editor has had
      the great advantage of having his work shared by Mr. Richard Bentley, who
      has brought his knowledge of the period to bear, and who has found, as
      only a busy man could do, the time to minutely enter into every fresh
      detail, with the ardour which soon seizes any one who long follows that
      enticing pursuit, the special study of an historical period.
    
Two important improvements have hopefully been made in this edition.  
      Great care has been taken to correctly present names, dates, and figures—areas  
      that are often overlooked in most translations, although in some cases, like  
      Davoust, the common but not entirely accurate spelling has been used for the  
      sake of the general reader. The number of references to other works provided in  
      the notes is intended to be helpful for anyone looking to further explore the  
      history of Napoleon and may help them avoid many common mistakes. The current  
      Editor has been fortunate to work with Mr. Richard Bentley, who has applied his  
      knowledge of the period and, as only a busy person can, found the time to delve  
      into every new detail with the enthusiasm that often grabs anyone who immerses  
      themselves in the captivating pursuit of studying a historical period.







      January 1885 R. W. P.
    
January 1885 R.W.P.








 


 




















      MEMOIRS of NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
    








 


 




















      VOLUME I. — 1769-1800
    




















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      CHAPTER 1
    



      1769-1783.
    
1769-1783.


   Authentic date of Bonaparte's birth—His family ruined by the
   Jesuits—His taste for military amusements—Sham siege at the
   College of Brienne—The porter's wife and Napoleon—My intimacy with
   Bonaparte at college—His love for the mathematics, and his dislike
   of Latin—He defends Paoli and blames his father—He is ridiculed by
   his comrades—Ignorance of the monks—Distribution of prizes at
   Brienne—Madame de Montesson and the Duke of Orleans—Report of M.
   Keralio on Bonaparte—He leaves Brienne.

   The true date of Bonaparte's birth—His family was ruined by the Jesuits—His interest in military games—Mock siege at the College of Brienne—The porter's wife and Napoleon—My friendship with Bonaparte at college—His passion for mathematics and his dislike for Latin—He defends Paoli and criticizes his father—He is mocked by his classmates—Ignorance of the monks—Prize distribution at Brienne—Madame de Montesson and the Duke of Orleans—Report by M. Keralio on Bonaparte—He leaves Brienne.







      NAPOLEON BONAPARTE was born at Ajaccio, in Corsica, on the 15th of August
      1769; the original orthography of his name was Buonaparte, but he
      suppressed the "u" during his first campaign in Italy. His motives for so
      doing were merely to render the spelling conformable with the
      pronunciation, and to abridge his signature. He signed Buonaparte even
      after the famous 13th Vendemiaire.
    
NAPOLEON BONAPARTE was born in Ajaccio, Corsica, on August 15, 1769. His original name was spelled Buonaparte, but he dropped the "u" during his first campaign in Italy. He did this simply to make the spelling match the pronunciation and to shorten his signature. He continued to sign as Buonaparte even after the famous 13th Vendemiaire.







      It has been affirmed that he was born in 1768, and that he represented
      himself to be a year younger than he really was. This is untrue. He always
      told me the 9th of August was his birthday, and, as I was born on the 9th
      of July 1769, our proximity of age served to strengthen our union and
      friendship when we were both at the Military College of Brienne.
    
It has been confirmed that he was born in 1768, and that he claimed to be a year younger than he actually was. This isn't true. He consistently told me that his birthday was on August 9th, and since I was born on July 9th, 1769, our close ages helped strengthen our bond and friendship while we were both at the Military College of Brienne.







      The false and absurd charge of Bonaparte having misrepresented his age, is
      decidedly refuted by a note in the register of M. Berton, sub-principal of
      the College of Brienne, in which it is stated that M. Napoleon de
      Buonaparte, ecuyer, born in the city of Ajaccio, in Corsica, on the 15th
      of August 1769, left the Royal Military College of Brienne on the 17th
      October 1784.
    
The false and absurd claim that Bonaparte misrepresented his age is clearly disproven by a note in the register of M. Berton, the sub-principal of the College of Brienne, which states that M. Napoleon de Buonaparte, esquire, was born in the city of Ajaccio, Corsica, on August 15, 1769, and left the Royal Military College of Brienne on October 17, 1784.







      The stories about his low extraction are alike devoid of foundation. His
      family was poor, and he was educated at the public expense, an advantage
      of which many honourable families availed themselves. A memorial addressed
      by his father, Charles Buonaparte, to the Minister of War states that his
      fortune had been reduced by the failure of some enterprise in which he had
      engaged, and by the injustice of the Jesuits, by whom he had been deprived
      of an inheritance. The object of this memorial was to solicit a
      sub-lieutenant's commission for Napoleon, who was then fourteen years of
      age, and to get Lucien entered a pupil of the Military College. The
      Minister wrote on the back of the memorial, "Give the usual answer, if
      there be a vacancy;" and on the margin are these words—"This
      gentleman has been informed that his request is inadmissible as long as
      his second son remains at the school of Brienne. Two brothers cannot be
      placed at the same time in the military schools." When Napoleon was
      fifteen he was sent to Paris until he should attain the requisite age for
      entering the army. Lucien was not received into the College of Brienne, at
      least not until his brother had quitted the Military School of Paris.
    
The stories about his humble beginnings are totally unfounded. His family was poor, and he received an education funded by the public, which many respectable families also took advantage of. A letter written by his father, Charles Buonaparte, to the Minister of War mentions that their fortune had diminished due to a failed venture he was involved in and the unfairness of the Jesuits, who had taken away an inheritance from him. The purpose of this letter was to request a sub-lieutenant's commission for Napoleon, who was then fourteen, and to get Lucien admitted as a student at the Military College. The Minister noted on the back of the letter, "Give the usual answer, if there is a vacancy;" and scribbled in the margin were these words— "This gentleman has been informed that his request is not allowable as long as his second son is still at the school of Brienne. Two brothers cannot be enrolled at the same time in military schools." When Napoleon turned fifteen, he was sent to Paris until he was old enough to join the army. Lucien was not accepted into the College of Brienne until after his brother had left the Military School of Paris.







      Bonaparte was undoubtedly a man of good family. I have seen an authentic
      account of his genealogy, which he obtained from Tuscany. A great deal has
      been said about the civil dissensions which forced his family to quit
      Italy and take refuge in Corsica. On this subject I shall say nothing.
    
Bonaparte was definitely from a good family. I’ve seen a reliable record of his family history, which he got from Tuscany. A lot has been said about the civil conflicts that made his family leave Italy and seek refuge in Corsica. I won’t comment on that.







      Many and various accounts have been given of Bonaparte's youth.
    
Many different stories have been told about Bonaparte's childhood.






 —[The following interesting trait of Napoleon's childhood is
   derived from the 'Memoirs of the Duchesse d'Arbranes':—"He was one
   day accused by one of his sisters of having eaten a basketful of
   grapes, figs, and citrons, which had come from the garden of his
   uncle the Canon. None but those who were acquainted with the
   Bonaparte family can form any idea of the enormity of this offence.
   To eat fruit belonging to the uncle the Canon was infinitely more
   criminal than to eat grapes and figs which might be claimed by
   anybody else. An inquiry took place. Napoleon denied the fact,
   and was whipped. He was told that if he would beg pardon he should
   be forgiven. He protested that he was innocent, but he was not
   believed. If I recollect rightly, his mother was at the time on a
   visit to M. de Marbeuf, or some other friend. The result of
   Napoleon's obstinacy was, that he was kept three whole days on bread
   and cheese, and that cheese was not 'broccio'. However, he would
   not cry: he was dull, but not sulky. At length, on the fourth day
   of his punishment a little friend of Marianne Bonaparte returned
   from the country, and on hearing of Napoleon's disgrace she
   confessed that she and Marianne had eaten the fruit. It was now
   Marianne's turn to be punished. When Napoleon was asked why he had
   not accused his sister, he replied that though he suspected that she
   was guilty, yet out of consideration to her little friend, who had
   no share in the falsehood, he had said nothing. He was then only
   seven years of age" (vol. i. p. 9, edit. 1883).]— 
—[The following interesting detail about Napoleon's childhood comes from the 'Memoirs of the Duchesse d'Arbranes':— "One day, one of his sisters accused him of eating a basketful of grapes, figs, and citrons that had come from the garden of his uncle the Canon. Only those familiar with the Bonaparte family can grasp how serious this offense was. Eating fruit that belonged to the uncle the Canon was far worse than eating grapes and figs that could belong to anyone else. An investigation took place. Napoleon denied the accusation and was punished. He was told that if he apologized, he would be forgiven. He insisted he was innocent, but no one believed him. If I remember correctly, his mother was visiting M. de Marbeuf or another friend at the time. Because of Napoleon's stubbornness, he was kept on bread and cheese for three whole days, and the cheese wasn’t even 'broccio.' Still, he refused to cry; he was downcast but not sulky. Finally, on the fourth day of his punishment, a little friend of Marianne Bonaparte returned from the countryside, and after hearing about Napoleon's misfortune, she admitted that she and Marianne had eaten the fruit. It was now Marianne's turn to be punished. When Napoleon was asked why he hadn’t accused his sister, he replied that even though he suspected her guilt, he didn’t say anything out of consideration for her little friend, who wasn’t part of the lie. He was only seven years old at the time" (vol. i. p. 9, edit. 1883).]—







      He has been described in terms of enthusiastic praise and exaggerated
      condemnation. It is ever thus with individuals who by talent or favourable
      circumstances are raised above their fellow-creatures. Bonaparte himself
      laughed at all the stories which were got up for the purpose of
      embellishing or blackening his character in early life. An anonymous
      publication, entitled the 'History of Napoleon Bonaparte', from his Birth
      to his last abdication, contains perhaps the greatest collection of false
      and ridiculous details about his boyhood. Among other things, it is stated
      that he fortified a garden to protect himself from the attacks of his
      comrades, who, a few lines lower down, are described as treating him with
      esteem and respect. I remember the circumstances which, probably, gave
      rise to the fabrication inserted in the work just mentioned; they were as
      follows.
    
He has been described with both enthusiastic praise and extreme criticism. This is always the case with individuals who, through talent or favorable circumstances, rise above their peers. Bonaparte himself laughed at all the stories created to either glorify or vilify him in his early life. An anonymous publication titled, 'History of Napoleon Bonaparte', from his Birth to his last abdication, possibly contains the largest collection of false and absurd details about his childhood. Among other things, it claims that he fortified a garden to protect himself from attacks by his peers, who, a few lines later, are described as treating him with respect and admiration. I remember the circumstances that likely led to the fabrication included in the aforementioned work; they were as follows.







      During the winter of 1783-84, so memorable for heavy falls of snow,
      Napoleon was greatly at a loss for those retired walks and outdoor
      recreations in which he used to take much delight. He had no alternative
      but to mingle with his comrades, and, for exercise, to walk with them up
      and down a spacious hall. Napoleon, weary of this monotonous promenade,
      told his comrades that he thought they might amuse themselves much better
      with the snow, in the great courtyard, if they would get shovels and make
      hornworks, dig trenches, raise parapets, cavaliers, etc. "This being
      done," said he, "we may divide ourselves into sections, form a siege, and
      I will undertake to direct the attacks." The proposal, which was received
      with enthusiasm, was immediately put into execution. This little sham war
      was carried on for the space of a fortnight, and did not cease until a
      quantity of gravel and small stones having got mixed with the snow of
      which we made our bullets, many of the combatants, besiegers as well as
      besieged, were seriously wounded. I well remember that I was one of the
      worst sufferers from this sort of grapeshot fire.
    
During the winter of 1783-84, memorable for its heavy snowfall, Napoleon felt frustrated by the lack of quiet walks and outdoor activities that he used to enjoy. He had no choice but to hang out with his friends and, for exercise, walk with them back and forth in a large hall. Bored with this routine, Napoleon suggested they could have more fun in the snow in the big courtyard if they grabbed shovels to build fortifications, dig trenches, and raise parapets and other structures. "Once that’s done," he said, "we can split into groups, stage a siege, and I’ll lead the attacks." His idea was received with excitement and quickly put into action. This little mock war went on for two weeks and only stopped when a mix of gravel and small stones got into the snow we were using for cannonballs, causing many of the fighters, both attackers and defenders, to get seriously injured. I clearly remember being one of the hardest hit from this kind of grapeshot fire.







      It is almost unnecessary to contradict the story about the ascent in the
      balloon. It is now very well known that the hero of that headlong
      adventure was not young Bonaparte, as has been alleged, but one of his
      comrades, Dudont de Chambon, who was somewhat eccentric. Of this his
      subsequent conduct afforded sufficient proofs.
    
It’s nearly pointless to dispute the story about the balloon ride. It’s now widely understood that the real hero of that daring adventure wasn’t young Bonaparte, as has been claimed, but rather one of his companions, Dudont de Chambon, who was a bit eccentric. His later actions provided enough evidence of this.







      Bonaparte's mind was directed to objects of a totally different kind. He
      turned his attention to political science. During some of his vacations he
      enjoyed the society of the Abby Raynal, who used to converse with him on
      government, legislation, commercial relations, etc.
    
Bonaparte's focus shifted to completely different interests. He became interested in political science. During some of his vacations, he spent time with Abbé Raynal, who used to discuss topics like government, legislation, and trade with him.







      On festival days, when the inhabitants of Brienne were admitted to our
      amusements, posts were established for the maintenance of order. Nobody
      was permitted to enter the interior of the building without a card signed
      by the principal, or vice-principal. The rank of officers or sub-officers
      was conferred according to merit; and Bonaparte one day had the command of
      a post, when the following little adventure occurred, which affords an
      instance of his decision of character.
    
On festival days, when the people of Brienne were allowed to join in our festivities, posts were set up to keep the peace. No one could enter the building without a card signed by the principal or vice-principal. The ranks of officers and sub-officers were awarded based on merit; and one day, Bonaparte was in charge of a post when a small incident happened that showed his strong character.







      The wife of the porter of the school,
    
The wife of the school porter,






 —[This woman, named Haute, was afterwards placed at Malmaison, with
   her husband. They both died as concierges of Malmaison. This shows
   that Napoleon had a memory.—Bourrienne.]— 
——[This woman, named Haute, was later placed at Malmaison with her husband. They both died as caretakers of Malmaison. This shows that Napoleon had a good memory.—Bourrienne.]——







      who was very well known, because she used to sell milk, fruit, etc., to
      the pupils, presented herself one Saint Louis day for admittance to the
      representation of the 'Death of Caesar, corrected', in which I was to
      perform the part of Brutus. As the woman had no ticket, and insisted on
      being admitted without one, some disturbance arose. The serjeant of the
      post reported the matter to the officer, Napoleon Bonaparte, who in an
      imperious tone of voice exclaimed: "Send away that woman, who comes here
      with her camp impudence." This was in 1782.
    
who was very well known because she used to sell milk, fruit, etc., to the students, showed up one Saint Louis day to get into the performance of the 'Death of Caesar, corrected', where I was set to play Brutus. Since the woman didn’t have a ticket and insisted on getting in without one, a commotion broke out. The sergeant on duty reported the situation to the officer, Napoleon Bonaparte, who with a commanding voice said: "Get that woman out of here, with her cheeky antics." This was in 1782.







      Bonaparte and I were eight years of, age when our friendship commenced. It
      speedily became very intimate, for there was a certain sympathy of heart
      between us. I enjoyed this friendship and intimacy until 1784, when he was
      transferred from the Military College of Brienne to that of Paris. I was
      one among those of his youthful comrades who could best accommodate
      themselves to his stern character. His natural reserve, his disposition to
      meditate on the conquest of Corsica, and the impressions he had received
      in childhood respecting the misfortunes of his country and his family, led
      him to seek retirement, and rendered his general demeanour, though in
      appearance only, somewhat unpleasing. Our equality of age brought us
      together in the classes of the mathematics and 'belles lettres'. His
      ardent wish to acquire knowledge was remarkable from the very commencement
      of his studies. When he first came to the college he spoke only the
      Corsican dialect, and the Sieur Dupuis,
    
Bonaparte and I were eight years old when our friendship began. It quickly became very close, as there was a special connection between us. I enjoyed this friendship and closeness until 1784, when he moved from the Military College of Brienne to that of Paris. I was one of his youthful friends who could best adapt to his serious nature. His natural reserve, his tendency to think about conquering Corsica, and the experiences he had as a child regarding his family's and country's misfortunes led him to seek solitude, which made his overall demeanor, although just on the surface, somewhat unappealing. Our similar age brought us together in math and literature classes. His strong desire to learn was evident right from the start of his studies. When he first arrived at the college, he only spoke the Corsican dialect, and the Sieur Dupuis,






 —[He afterwards filled the post of librarian to Napoleon at
   Malmaison.]— 
 —[He later became the librarian for Napoleon at Malmaison.]—







      who was vice-principal before Father Berton, gave him instructions in the
      French language. In this he made such rapid progress that in a short time
      he commenced the first rudiments of Latin. But to this study he evinced
      such a repugnance that at the age of fifteen he was not out of the fourth
      class. There I left him very speedily; but I could never get before him in
      the mathematical class, in which he was undoubtedly the cleverest lad at
      the college. I used sometimes to help him with his Latin themes and
      versions in return for the aid he afforded me in the solution of problems,
      at which he evinced a degree of readiness and facility which perfectly
      astonished me.
    
The vice-principal before Father Berton taught him French. He made such quick progress that soon he started learning the basics of Latin. However, he showed such a strong dislike for it that by age fifteen, he hadn't moved past the fourth class. I left him there pretty quickly, but I could never outshine him in math class, where he was clearly the smartest kid in the college. Sometimes, I would help him with his Latin essays and translations in exchange for his help with solving problems, where he demonstrated a level of ease and skill that genuinely amazed me.







      When at Brienne, Bonaparte was remarkable for the dark color of his
      complexion (which, subsequently, the climate of France somewhat changed),
      for his piercing and scrutinising glance, and for the style of his
      conversation both with his masters and comrades. His conversation almost
      always bore the appearance of ill-humour, and he was certainly not very
      amiable. This I attribute to the misfortunes his family had sustained and
      the impressions made on his mind by the conquest of his country.
    
When he was at Brienne, Bonaparte was known for his dark complexion (which later changed somewhat due to the climate in France), his intense and observing gaze, and how he talked to his superiors and peers. His conversation often seemed grumpy, and he definitely wasn’t very friendly. I think this was due to the hardships his family faced and the impact the conquest of his country had on him.







      The pupils were invited by turns to dine with Father Berton, the head of
      the school. One day, it being Bonaparte's turn to enjoy this indulgence,
      some of the professors who were at table designedly made some
      disrespectful remarks on Paoli, of whom they knew the young Corsican was
      an enthusiastic admirer. "Paoli," observed Bonaparte, "was a great man; he
      loved his country; and I will never forgive my father, who was his
      adjutant, for having concurred in the union of Corsica with France. He
      ought to have followed Paoli's fortune, and have fallen with him."
    
The students took turns being invited to have dinner with Father Berton, the head of the school. One day, it was Bonaparte's turn to enjoy this treat, and some of the professors at the table intentionally made disrespectful comments about Paoli, knowing that the young Corsican admired him greatly. "Paoli," Bonaparte said, "was a great man; he loved his country; and I will never forgive my father, who was his aide, for supporting the annexation of Corsica with France. He should have stood by Paoli and gone down with him."






 —[The Duchesse d'Abrantes, speaking of the personal characteristics
   of Bonaparte in youth and manhood, says, "Saveria told me that
   Napoleon was never a pretty boy, as Joseph was, for example: his
   head always appeared too large for his body, a defect common to the
   Bonaparte family. When Napoleon grew up, the peculiar charm of his
   countenance lay in his eye, especially in the mild expression it
   assumed in his moments of kindness. His anger, to be sure, was
   frightful, and though I am no coward, I never could look at him in
   his fits of rage without shuddering. Though his smile was
   captivating, yet the expression of his mouth when disdainful or
   angry could scarcely be seen without terror. But that forehead
   which seemed formed to bear the crowns of a whole world; those
   hands, of which the most coquettish women might have been vain, and
   whose white skin covered muscles of iron; in short, of all that
   personal beauty which distinguished Napoleon as a young man, no
   traces were discernible in the boy. Saveria spoke truly when she
   said, that of all the children of Signora Laetitia, the Emperor was
   the one from whom future greatness was least to be prognosticated"
   (vol. i. p. 10, edit. 1883)]— 
—[The Duchesse d'Abrantes, discussing Bonaparte's personal traits in his youth and adulthood, says, "Saveria told me that Napoleon was never as good-looking as Joseph, for instance: his head always seemed too large for his body, a common feature in the Bonaparte family. As Napoleon matured, the unique charm of his face came from his eyes, especially the gentle look they had during his kind moments. His anger, however, was terrifying, and although I'm not easily frightened, I could never look at him in those rages without feeling chills. Despite his captivating smile, the expression on his mouth when he was disdainful or angry was hardly something one could witness without fear. But that forehead, which seemed made to wear the crowns of the world; those hands, which the most vain women might envy, with skin as white as could be hiding iron muscles; in short, none of the personal beauty that set young Napoleon apart was evident when he was a boy. Saveria was right when she said that of all Signora Laetitia's children, the Emperor was the one from whom future greatness was the least expected" (vol. i. p. 10, edit. 1883)]—







      Generally speaking, Bonaparte was not much liked by his comrades at
      Brienne. He was not social with them, and rarely took part in their
      amusements. His country's recent submission to France always caused in his
      mind a painful feeling, which estranged him from his schoolfellows. I,
      however, was almost his constant companion. During play-hours he used to
      withdraw to the library, where he-read with deep interest works of
      history, particularly Polybius and Plutarch. He was also fond of Arrianus,
      but did not care much for Quintus Gurtius. I often went off to play with
      my comrades, and left him by himself in the library.
    
Generally speaking, Bonaparte wasn't very liked by his classmates at Brienne. He didn’t socialize with them and rarely joined in their fun. His country’s recent submission to France always left him feeling pained, which created distance between him and his peers. I, however, was almost always by his side. During playtime, he would often retreat to the library, where he read with great interest works of history, especially Polybius and Plutarch. He also liked Arrianus but wasn’t too keen on Quintus Gurtius. I often went off to play with my friends, leaving him alone in the library.







      The temper of the young Corsican was not improved by the teasing he
      frequently experienced from his comrades, who were fond of ridiculing him
      about his Christian name Napoleon and his country. He often said to me, "I
      will do these French all the mischief I can;" and when I tried to pacify
      him he would say, "But you do not ridicule me; you like me."
    
The young Corsican's mood was worsened by the teasing he often faced from his friends, who liked to mock him about his first name, Napoleon, and his homeland. He would often say to me, "I’m going to cause as much trouble as I can for these French," and when I tried to calm him down, he would reply, "But you don’t make fun of me; you like me."







      Father Patrauld, our mathematical professor, was much attached to
      Bonaparte. He was justly proud of him as a pupil. The other professors, in
      whose classes he was not distinguished, took little notice of him. He had
      no taste for the study of languages, polite literature, or the arts. As
      there were no indications of his ever becoming a scholar, the pedants of
      the establishment were inclined to think him stupid. His superior
      intelligence was, however, sufficiently perceptible, even through the
      reserve under which it was veiled. If the monks to whom the
      superintendence of the establishment was confided had understood the
      organisation of his mind, if they had engaged more able mathematical
      professors, or if we had had any incitement to the study of chemistry,
      natural philosophy, astronomy, etc., I am convinced that Bonaparte would
      have pursued these sciences with all the genius and spirit of
      investigation which he displayed in a career, more brilliant it is true,
      but less useful to mankind. Unfortunately, the monks did not perceive
      this, and were too poor to pay for good masters. However, after Bonaparte
      left the college they found it necessary to engage two professors from
      Paris, otherwise the college would have fallen to nothing. These two new
      professors, MM. Durfort and Desponts, finished my education; and I
      regretted that they did not come sooner. The often-repeated assertion of
      Bonaparte having received a careful education at Brienne is therefore
      untrue. The monks were incapable of giving it him; and, for my own part, I
      must confess that the extended information of the present day is to me a
      painful contrast with the limited course of education I received at the
      Military College. It is only surprising that the establishment should have
      produced a single able man.
    
Father Patrauld, our math professor, had a strong affection for Bonaparte. He was justly proud of him as a student. The other professors, in whose classes he didn't stand out, paid little attention to him. He had no interest in studying languages, literature, or the arts. Since there were no signs of him becoming a scholar, the pedants at the school tended to see him as dumb. However, his superior intelligence was evident, even beneath the reserve he maintained. If the monks in charge of the school had understood how his mind worked, if they had hired better math professors, or if there had been any encouragement for studying subjects like chemistry, natural philosophy, astronomy, etc., I’m convinced that Bonaparte would have pursued these fields with all the genius and curiosity he showed in a career that was indeed more brilliant but less beneficial to society. Unfortunately, the monks didn’t recognize this and were too poor to afford good teachers. However, after Bonaparte left the college, they found it necessary to hire two professors from Paris; otherwise, the college would have fallen apart. These new professors, MM. Durfort and Desponts, completed my education, and I wished they had come sooner. The often-repeated claim that Bonaparte received a thorough education at Brienne is therefore false. The monks were incapable of providing that for him; and for my part, I must admit that the broad knowledge available today is a painful contrast to the limited education I received at the Military College. It's surprising that the school produced even one capable individual.







      Though Bonaparte had no reason to be satisfied with the treatment he
      received from his comrades, yet he was above complaining of it; and when
      he had the supervision of any duty which they infringed, he would rather
      go to prison than denounce the criminals.
    
Though Bonaparte had no reason to be happy with how his comrades treated him, he was above complaining about it; and when he was in charge of any task they violated, he would rather go to prison than report the wrongdoers.







      I was one day his accomplice in omitting to enforce a duty which we were
      appointed to supervise. He prevailed on me to accompany him to prison,
      where we remained three days. We suffered this sort of punishment several
      times, but with less severity.
    
I was once his partner in neglecting to carry out a duty we were supposed to oversee. He convinced me to go with him to prison, where we stayed for three days. We endured this kind of punishment several times, but it was less harsh each time.







      In 1783 the Duke of Orleans and Madame de Montesson visited Brienne; and,
      for upwards of a month, the magnificent chateau of the Comte de Brienne
      was a Versailles in miniature. The series of brilliant entertainments
      which were given to the august travellers made them almost forget the
      royal magnificence they had left behind them.
    
In 1783, the Duke of Orleans and Madame de Montesson visited Brienne; and for over a month, the stunning chateau of the Comte de Brienne was like a miniature Versailles. The series of glamorous events held for the distinguished guests made them almost forget the royal splendor they had left behind.







      The Prince and Madame de Montesson expressed a wish to preside at the
      distribution of the prizes of our college. Bonaparte and I won the prizes
      in the class of mathematics, which, as I have already observed, was the
      branch of study to which he confined his attention, and in which he
      excelled. When I was called up for the seventh time Madame de Montesson
      said to my mother, who had come from Sens to be present at the
      distribution, "Pray, madame, crown your son this time; my hands are
      a-weary."
    
The Prince and Madame de Montesson wanted to lead the prize ceremony at our college. Bonaparte and I won prizes in the math class, which I’ve mentioned before was the subject he focused on and excelled in. When I was called up for the seventh time, Madame de Montesson said to my mother, who had come from Sens to be there for the awards, "Please, madame, crown your son this time; my hands are tired."







      There was an inspector of the military schools, whose business it was to
      make an annual report on each pupil, whether educated at the public
      expense or paid for by his family. I copied from the report of 1784 a note
      which was probably obtained surreptitiously from the War Office. I wanted
      to purchase the manuscript, but Louis Bonaparte bought it. I did not make
      a copy of the note which related to myself, because I should naturally
      have felt diffident in making any use of it. It would, however, have
      served to show how time and circumstances frequently reversed the
      distinctions which arise at school or college. Judging from the reports of
      the inspector of military schools, young Bonaparte was not, of all the
      pupils at Brienne in 1784, the one most calculated to excite prognostics
      of future greatness and glory.
    
There was an inspector of military schools who was responsible for making an annual report on each student, whether they were educated at public expense or paid for by their family. I copied a note from the 1784 report that was probably obtained secretly from the War Office. I wanted to buy the manuscript, but Louis Bonaparte ended up buying it. I didn't copy the note that was about me because I naturally felt hesitant to use it. However, it would have shown how time and circumstances often change the distinctions made during school or college. Based on the reports from the military schools' inspector, young Bonaparte was not the student at Brienne in 1784 who seemed most likely to spark predictions of future greatness and glory.







      The note to which I have just alluded, and which was written by M. de
      Kerralio, then inspector of the military schools, describes Bonaparte in
      the following terms:
    
The note I just mentioned, written by M. de Kerralio, who was the inspector of the military schools at the time, describes Bonaparte in these terms:






           INSPECTION OF MILITARY SCHOOLS
                 1784.
       REPORT MADE FOR HIS MAJESTY BY M. DE KERALIO.

   M. de Buonaparte (Napoleon), born 15th August 1769, height 4 feet 10
   inches 10 lines, is in the fourth class, has a good constitution,
   excellent health, character obedient, upright, grateful, conduct
   very regular; has been always distinguished by his application to
   mathematics. He knows history and geography very passably. He is
   not well up in ornamental studies or in Latin in which he is only in
   the fourth class. He will be an excellent sailor. He deserves to
   be passed on to the Military School of Paris.

           INSPECTION OF MILITARY SCHOOLS
                 1784.
       REPORT MADE FOR HIS MAJESTY BY M. DE KERALIO.

   M. de Buonaparte (Napoleon), born August 15, 1769, height 4 feet 10 inches, is in the fourth class. He has a good constitution, excellent health, is obedient, honorable, and grateful, and his behavior is very regular. He has always been noted for his dedication to mathematics. He has a decent understanding of history and geography. He is not very skilled in art subjects or Latin, where he is still in the fourth class. He will make an excellent sailor. He deserves to be promoted to the Military School of Paris.







      Father Berton, however, opposed Bonaparte's removal to Paris, because he
      had not passed through the fourth Latin class, and the regulations
      required that he should be in the third. I was informed by the
      vice-principal that a report relative to Napoleon was sent from the
      College of Brienne to that of Paris, in which he was described as being
      domineering, imperious, and obstinate.
    
Father Berton, however, didn't agree with Bonaparte's move to Paris because he hadn't completed the fourth Latin class, and the rules stated he needed to be in the third. The vice-principal told me that a report about Napoleon was sent from the College of Brienne to the one in Paris, describing him as domineering, bossy, and stubborn.






 —[Napoleon remained upwards of five years at Brienne, from April
   1779 till the latter end of 1784. In 1783 the Chevalier Keralio,
   sub-inspector of the military schools, selected him to pass the year
   following to the military school at Paris, to which three of the
   best scholars were annually sent from each of the twelve provincial
   military schools of France. It is curious as well as satisfactory
   to know the opinion at this time entertained of him by those who
   were the best qualified to judge. His old master, Le Guille,
   professor of history at Paris, boasted that, in a list of the
   different scholars, he had predicted his pupil's subsequent career.
   In fact, to the name of Bonaparte the following note is added: "a
   Corsican by birth and character—he will do something great, if
   circumstances favour him." Menge was his instructor in geometry,
   who also entertained a high opinion of him. M. Bauer, his German
   master, was the only one who saw nothing in him, and was surprised
   at being told he was undergoing his examination for the artillery.
   —Hazlitt.]— 
 —Napoleon spent over five years at Brienne, from April 1779 until the end of 1784. In 1783, Chevalier Keralio, the sub-inspector of the military schools, chose him to attend the military school in Paris the following year, where three of the best students were sent annually from each of the twelve provincial military schools in France. It’s interesting and satisfying to know what those best qualified to judge thought of him at that time. His former teacher, Le Guille, a history professor in Paris, proudly stated that in a list of students, he had predicted his pupil’s future success. In fact, next to the name Bonaparte, the following note is written: "a Corsican by birth and character—he will accomplish something significant if circumstances are in his favor." Menge, his geometry instructor, also held him in high regard. M. Bauer, his German teacher, was the only one who didn’t see any potential in him and was surprised to learn he was taking his exam for the artillery. —Hazlitt.]—







      I knew Bonaparte well; and I think M. de Keralio's report of him was
      exceedingly just, except, perhaps, that he might have said he was very
      well as to his progress in history and geography, and very backward in
      Latin; but certainly nothing indicated the probability of his being an
      excellent seaman. He himself had no thought of the navy.
    
I knew Bonaparte well, and I think M. de Keralio's assessment of him was very accurate, except maybe he could have mentioned that he was doing well in history and geography but struggling with Latin. However, there was nothing to suggest that he would be an excellent sailor. He himself had no interest in the navy.






 —[Bourrienne is certainly wrong as to Bonaparte having no thought
   of the navy. In a letter of 1784 to the Minister of War his father
   says of Napoleon that, "following the advice of the Comte de
   Marbeuf, he has turned his studies towards the navy; and so well has
   he succeeded that he was intended by M. de Keralio for the school of
   Paris, and afterwards for the department of Toulon. The retirement
   of the former professor (Keralio) has changed the fate of my son."
   It was only on the failure of his intention to get into the navy
   that his father, on 15th July 1784 applied for permission for him to
   enter the artillery; Napoleon having a horror of the infantry, where
   he said they did nothing. It was on the success of this application
   that he was allowed to enter the school of Parts (Iung, tome i. pp.
   91-103). Oddly enough, in later years, on 30th August 1792, having
   just succeeded in getting himself reinstated as captain after his
   absence, overstaying leave, he applied to pass into the Artillerie
   de la Marine. "The application was judged to be simply absurd, and
   was filed with this note, 'S. R.' ('sans reponse')" (Iung, tome ii.
   p. 201)]— 
—[Bourrienne is definitely mistaken about Bonaparte not considering the navy. In a letter from 1784 to the Minister of War, his father mentions that "following the advice of Comte de Marbeuf, he has focused his studies on the navy; and he has done so well that M. de Keralio planned for him to attend the school in Paris and later the department in Toulon. The resignation of the former professor (Keralio) changed my son's future." Only after his unsuccessful attempt to join the navy did his father, on July 15, 1784, request permission for him to join the artillery, as Napoleon had a dislike for the infantry, claiming they did nothing. His admission to the school in Paris was based on the success of this application (Iung, tome i. pp. 91-103). Interestingly, years later, on August 30, 1792, after successfully getting reinstated as captain following a prolonged leave, he asked to transfer to the Artillerie de la Marine. "The application was deemed completely absurd, and it was filed with the note 'S. R.' ('sans reponse')" (Iung, tome ii. p. 201)]—







      In consequence of M. de Keralio's report, Bonaparte was transferred to the
      Military College of Paris, along with MM. Montarby de Dampierre, de
      Castres, de Comminges, and de Laugier de Bellecourt, who were all, like
      him, educated at the public expense, and all, at least, as favorably
      reported.
    
As a result of M. de Keralio's report, Bonaparte was moved to the Military College of Paris, along with MM. Montarby de Dampierre, de Castres, de Comminges, and de Laugier de Bellecourt, who were all educated at public expense, and were all, at the very least, favorably reviewed.







      What could have induced Sir Walter Scott to say that Bonaparte was the
      pride of the college, that our mathematical master was exceedingly fond of
      him, and that the other professors in the different sciences had equal
      reason to be satisfied with him? What I have above stated, together with
      the report of M. de Keralio, bear evidence of his backwardness in almost
      every branch of education except mathematics. Neither was it, as Sir
      Walter affirms, his precocious progress in mathematics that occasioned him
      to be removed to Paris. He had attained the proper age, and the report of
      him was favourable, therefore he was very naturally included among the
      number of the five who were chosen in 1784.
    
What could have made Sir Walter Scott say that Bonaparte was the pride of the college, that our math teacher really liked him, and that the other professors in different subjects had just as much reason to be pleased with him? What I've mentioned above, along with M. de Keralio's report, shows that he was behind in almost every area of study except math. It wasn't, as Sir Walter claims, his early success in math that led to his move to Paris. He had reached the right age, and his report was favorable, so it made sense that he was included among the five chosen in 1784.







      In a biographical account of Bonaparte I have read the following anecdote:—When
      he was fourteen years of age he happened to be at a party where some one
      pronounced a high eulogium on Turenne; and a lady in the company observed
      that he certainly was a great man, but that she should like him better if
      he had not burned the Palatinate. "What signifies that," replied
      Bonaparte, "if it was necessary to the object he had in view?"
    
In a biography of Bonaparte, I came across this anecdote: When he was fourteen, he attended a party where someone praised Turenne highly. A lady in the group noted that he was indeed a great man, but she would like him more if he hadn't burned the Palatinate. "What does that matter," Bonaparte replied, "if it was necessary for what he aimed to achieve?"







      This is either an anachronism or a mere fabrication. Bonaparte was
      fourteen in the year 1783. He was then at Brienne, where certainly he did
      not go into company, and least of all the company of ladies.
    
This is either a mistake in time or just made up. Bonaparte was fourteen in 1783. At that time, he was at Brienne, where he definitely wasn’t socializing, especially not with ladies.








 


 




















      CHAPTER II.
    



      1784-1794.
    
1784-1794.


   Bonaparte enters the Military College of Paris—He urges me to
   embrace the military profession—His report on the state of the
   Military School of Paris—He obtains a commission—I set off for
   Vienna—Return to Paris, where I again meet Bonaparte—His singular
   plans for raising money—Louis XVI, with the red cap on his head—
   The 10th of August—My departure for Stuttgart—Bonaparte goes to
   Corsica—My name inscribed on the list of emigrants—Bonaparte at
   the siege of Toulon—Le Souper de Beaucaire—Napoleon's mission to
   Genoa—His arrest—His autographical justification
   —Duroc's first connection with Bonaparte.

   Bonaparte joins the Military College of Paris—He encourages me to take up a military career—His assessment of the Military School of Paris—He gets a commission—I leave for Vienna—Return to Paris, where I meet Bonaparte again—His unique plans for raising funds—Louis XVI, wearing a red cap—The 10th of August—My departure for Stuttgart—Bonaparte heads to Corsica—My name added to the list of emigrants—Bonaparte during the siege of Toulon—Le Souper de Beaucaire—Napoleon's mission to Genoa—His arrest—His autobiographical justification—Duroc's first connection with Bonaparte.







      Bonaparte was fifteen years and two months old when he went to the
      Military College of Paris.
    
Bonaparte was fifteen years and two months old when he started at the Military College of Paris.






 —[Madame Junot relates some interesting particulars connected with
   Napoleon's first residence in Paris:
   "My mother's first care," says she, "on arriving in Paris was to
   inquire after Napoleon Bonaparte. He was at that time in the
   military school at Paris, having quitted Brienne in the September of
   the preceding year.

   "My uncle Demetrius had met him just after he alighted from the coach
   which brought him to town; 'And truly.' said my uncle, 'he had the
   appearance of a fresh importation. I met him in the Palms Royal,
   where he was gaping and staring with wonder at everything he saw.
   He would have been an excellent subject for sharpers, if, indeed, he
   had had anything worth taking!' My uncle invited him to dine at his
   house; for though my uncle was a bachelor, he did not choose to dine
   at a 'traiteur' (the name 'restaurateur' was not then introduced).
   He told my mother that Napoleon was very morose. 'I fear,' added
   he, 'that that young man has more self-conceit than is suitable to
   his condition. When he dined with me he began to declaim violently
   against the luxury of the young men of the military school. After a
   little he turned the conversation on Mania, and the present
   education of the young Maniotes, drawing a comparison between it and
   the ancient Spartan system of education. His observations on this
   head he told me he intended to embody in a memorial to be presented
   to the Minister of War. All this, depend upon it, will bring him
   under the displeasure of his comrades; and it will be lucky if he
   escape being run through.' A few days afterwards my mother saw
   Napoleon, and then his irritability was at its height. He would
   scarcely bear any observations, even if made in his favour, and I am
   convinced that it is to this uncontrollable irritability that he
   owed the reputation of having been ill-tempered in his boyhood, and
   splenetic in his youth. My father, who was acquainted with almost
   all the heads of the military school, obtained leave for him
   sometimes to come out for recreation. On account of an accident (a
   sprain, if I recollect rightly) Napoleon once spent a whole week at
   our house. To this day, whenever I pass the Quai Conti, I cannot
   help looking up at a 'mansarde' at the left angle of the house on
   the third floor. That was Napoleon's chamber when he paid us a
   visit, and a neat little room it was. My brother used to occupy the
   one next to it. The two young men were nearly of the same age: my
   brother perhaps had the advantage of a year or fifteen months. My
   mother had recommended him to cultivate the friendship of young
   Bonaparte; but my brother complained how unpleasant it was to find
   only cold politeness where he expected affection. This
   repulsiveness on the part of Napoleon was almost offensive, and must
   have been sensibly felt by my brother, who was not only remarkable
   for the mildness of his temper and the amenity and grace of his
   manner, but whose society was courted in the most distinguished
   circles of Paris on account of his accomplishments. He perceived in
   Bonaparte a kind of acerbity and bitter irony, of which he long
   endeavoured to discover the cause. 'I believe,' said Albert one day
   to my mother, 'that the poor young man feels keenly his dependent
   situation.'" ('Memoirs of the Duchesse d'Abrantes, vol. i. p. 18,
   edit. 1883).]— 
—[Madame Junot shares some interesting details about Napoleon's first time in Paris:  
"My mother's first priority," she says, "when we arrived in Paris was to ask about Napoleon Bonaparte. At that time, he was at the military school in Paris, having left Brienne the previous September.

"My uncle Demetrius met him just after he got off the coach that brought him to the city; 'And indeed,' said my uncle, 'he looked like a fresh arrival. I saw him in the Palais Royal, where he was wide-eyed with amazement at everything around him. He would have been an easy target for con artists, if he actually had anything worth taking!' My uncle invited him to dinner at his house; even though my uncle was single, he preferred not to eat at a 'traiteur' (the term 'restaurateur' hadn't been introduced yet). He told my mother that Napoleon was very moody. 'I worry,' he added, 'that this young man has more self-importance than is appropriate for his position. When he dined with me, he started passionately criticizing the luxury of the young men at the military school. After a while, he shifted the conversation to Mani, and the current education of the young Maniotes, comparing it to the ancient Spartan education system. He mentioned that he intended to put his thoughts on this into a report to be sent to the Minister of War. Mark my words, this will get him in trouble with his classmates; it will be lucky if he doesn't end up in serious danger.' A few days later, my mother saw Napoleon again, and his irritability had peaked. He could hardly tolerate any comments, even those made in his favor, and I believe that this uncontrollable irritability contributed to his reputation for being bad-tempered as a child and moody as a teenager. My father, who knew nearly all the leaders at the military school, got permission for him to come out occasionally for some relaxation. Due to an incident (a sprain, if I remember correctly), Napoleon spent an entire week at our house. Even now, whenever I walk past the Quai Conti, I can't help but look up at the attic on the left corner of the building on the third floor. That was Napoleon's room when he visited us, and it was a nice little space. My brother used to stay in the room next door. The two young men were almost the same age; my brother perhaps had a year or fifteen months on him. My mother had advised him to build a friendship with young Bonaparte, but my brother complained about how uncomfortable it was to find only cold politeness where he had expected warmth. This aloofness from Napoleon was quite off-putting and must have been felt by my brother, who was known for his gentle nature and charming demeanor, and whose company was sought after in the most elite circles of Paris because of his talents. He sensed a sort of sharpness and bitter irony in Bonaparte, which he tried for a long time to understand. 'I think,' said Albert one day to my mother, 'that the poor young man is acutely aware of his dependent position.'" ('Memoirs of the Duchesse d'Abrantes, vol. i. p. 18, edit. 1883).]—







      I accompanied him in a carriole as far as Nogent Sur Seine, whence the
      coach was to start. We parted with regret, and we did not meet again till
      the year 1792. During these eight years we maintained an active
      correspondence; but so little did I anticipate the high destiny which,
      after his elevation, it was affirmed the wonderful qualities of his
      boyhood plainly denoted, that I did not preserve one of the letters he
      wrote to me at that period, but tore them up as soon as they were
      answered.
    
I rode with him in a carriage as far as Nogent Sur Seine, where the coach was set to leave. We said goodbye with sadness, and we didn’t see each other again until 1792. Over those eight years, we kept up a steady correspondence; but I was so unaware of the great future that was predicted for him due to the extraordinary talents he showed as a boy that I didn’t save any of the letters he sent me during that time. In fact, I tore them up as soon as I replied.






 —[I remember, however, that in a letter which I received from him
   about a year after his arrival in Paris he urged me to keep my
   promise of entering the army with him. Like him, I had passed
   through the studies necessary for the artillery service; and in 1787
   I went for three months to Metz, in order to unite practice with
   theory. A strange Ordinance, which I believe was issued in 1778 by
   M. de Segur, required that a man should possess four quarterings of
   nobility before he could be qualified to serve his king and country
   as a military officer. My mother went to Paris, taking with her the
   letters patent of her husband, who died six weeks after my birth.
   She proved that in the year 1640 Louis XIII. had, by letters
   patent, restored the titles of one Fauvelet de Villemont, who in
   1586 had kept several provinces of Burgundy subject to the king's
   authority at the peril of his life and the loss of his property; and
   that his family had occupied the first places in the magistracy
   since the fourteenth century. All was correct, but it was observed
   that the letters of nobility had not been registered by the
   Parliament, and to repair this little omission, the sum of twelve
   thousand francs was demanded. This my mother refused to pay, and
   there the matter rested.]— 
 —[I remember that about a year after he arrived in Paris, I got a letter from him urging me to keep my promise to join the army with him. Like him, I had completed the necessary studies for artillery service; in 1787, I spent three months in Metz to combine practice with theory. A strange rule, which I believe was established in 1778 by M. de Segur, stated that a person needed to have four quarterings of nobility to qualify as a military officer serving the king and country. My mother went to Paris with my late father's letters patent, who passed away six weeks after I was born. She showed that in 1640, Louis XIII had restored the titles of one Fauvelet de Villemont, who had risked his life and property to keep several provinces of Burgundy under the king's authority back in 1586, and that his family had held prominent positions in the magistracy since the fourteenth century. Everything was in order, but it was noted that the noble titles had not been registered by the Parliament, and to fix this oversight, they demanded twelve thousand francs. My mother refused to pay this, and that was the end of it.]—







      On his arrival at the Military School of Paris, Bonaparte found the
      establishment on so brilliant and expensive a footing that he immediately
      addressed a memorial on the subject to the Vice-Principal Berton of
      Brienne.
    
Upon arriving at the Military School of Paris, Bonaparte found the institution to be so impressive and costly that he promptly wrote a formal note about it to the Vice-Principal Berton of Brienne.






 —[A second memoir prepared by him to the same effect was intended
   for the Minister of War, but Father Berton wisely advised silence to
   the young cadet (Iung, tome i. p. 122). Although believing in the
   necessity of show and of magnificence in public life, Napoleon
   remained true to these principles. While lavishing wealth on his
   ministers and marshals, "In your private life," said be, "be
   economical and even parsimonious; in public be magnificent"
   (Meneval, tome i. p. 146).]— 
—[A second memoir he prepared with the same intent was meant for the Minister of War, but Father Berton wisely advised the young cadet to keep quiet (Iung, tome i. p. 122). Even though he believed in the need for spectacle and grandeur in public life, Napoleon stayed true to these principles. While he splurged on his ministers and marshals, he said, "In your private life, be frugal and even stingy; in public, be lavish" (Meneval, tome i. p. 146).]—







      He showed that the plan of education was really pernicious, and far from
      being calculated to fulfil the object which every wise government must
      have in view. The result of the system, he said, was to inspire the
      pupils, who were all the sons of poor gentlemen, with a love of
      ostentation, or rather, with sentiments of vanity and self-sufficiency; so
      that, instead of returning happy to the bosom of their families, they were
      likely to be ashamed of their parents, and to despise their humble homes.
      Instead of the numerous attendants by whom they were surrounded, their
      dinners of two courses, and their horses and grooms, he suggested that
      they should perform little necessary services for themselves, such as
      brushing their clothes, and cleaning their boots and shoes; that they
      should eat the coarse bread made for soldiers, etc. Temperance and
      activity, he added, would render them robust, enable them to bear the
      severity of different seasons and climates, to brave the fatigues of war,
      and to inspire the respect and obedience of the soldiers under their
      command. Thus reasoned Napoleon at the age of sixteen, and time showed
      that he never deviated from these principles. The establishment of the
      military school at Fontainebleau is a decided proof of this.
    
He demonstrated that the education plan was actually harmful and totally unhelpful for what any smart government should aim for. He explained that the outcome of this system was to fill the students, all sons of poor gentlemen, with a desire for showiness or, rather, with feelings of vanity and self-importance; so that, instead of returning happily to their families, they would likely feel ashamed of their parents and look down on their modest homes. Rather than being surrounded by numerous attendants, having two-course dinners, and having horses and grooms, he suggested they should do basic chores for themselves, like brushing their clothes and cleaning their boots and shoes, and that they should eat the rough bread meant for soldiers, etc. He added that self-discipline and activity would make them strong, help them endure harsh weather and conditions, withstand the challenges of war, and earn the respect and obedience of the soldiers they commanded. This is how Napoleon reasoned at the age of sixteen, and over time, it became clear that he never strayed from these beliefs. The creation of the military school at Fontainebleau is solid proof of this.







      As Napoleon was an active observer of everything passing around him, and
      pronounced his opinion openly and decidedly, he did not remain long at the
      Military School of Paris. His superiors, who were anxious to get rid of
      him, accelerated the period of his examination, and he obtained the first
      vacant sub-lieutenancy in a regiment of artillery.
    
As Napoleon was always paying close attention to everything happening around him and shared his opinions openly and confidently, he didn’t stay long at the Military School of Paris. His superiors, eager to see him go, sped up his examination process, and he secured the first available sub-lieutenancy in an artillery regiment.







      I left Brienne in 1787; and as I could not enter the artillery, I
      proceeded in the following year to Vienna, with a letter of recommendation
      to M. de Montmorin, soliciting employment in the French Embassy at the
      Court of Austria.
    
I left Brienne in 1787, and since I couldn’t join the artillery, I went to Vienna the next year with a recommendation letter to M. de Montmorin, asking for a job at the French Embassy in the Austrian Court.







      I remained two months at Vienna, where I had the honour of twice seeing
      the Emperor Joseph. The impression made upon me by his kind reception, his
      dignified and elegant manners, and graceful conversation, will never be
      obliterated from my recollection. After M. de Noailles had initiated me in
      the first steps of diplomacy, he advised me to go to one of the German
      universities to study the law of nations and foreign languages. I
      accordingly repaired to Leipsic, about the time when the French Revolution
      broke out.
    
I stayed in Vienna for two months, where I had the honor of seeing Emperor Joseph twice. I'll never forget the impression he made on me with his warm welcome, dignified and elegant manners, and charming conversation. After M. de Noailles introduced me to the basics of diplomacy, he suggested that I attend one of the German universities to study international law and foreign languages. So, I went to Leipzig around the time the French Revolution started.







      I spent some time at Leipsic, where I applied myself to the study of the
      law of nations, and the German and English languages. I afterwards
      travelled through Prussia and Poland, and passed a part of the winter of
      1791 and 1792 at Warsaw, where I was most graciously received by Princess
      Tyszicwiez, niece of Stanislaus Augustus, the last King of Poland, and the
      sister of Prince Poniatowski. The Princess was very well informed, and was
      a great admirer of French literature: At her invitation I passed several
      evenings in company with the King in a circle small enough to approach to
      something like intimacy. I remember that his Majesty frequently asked me
      to read the Moniteur; the speeches to which he listened with the greatest
      pleasure were those of the Girondists. The Princess Tyszicwiez wished to
      print at Warsaw, at her own expense, a translation I had executed of
      Kotzebue's 'Menschenhass and Reue, to which I gave the title of
      'L'Inconnu'.
    
I spent some time in Leipzig, where I focused on studying international law, as well as German and English. After that, I traveled through Prussia and Poland, and spent part of the winter of 1791 and 1792 in Warsaw, where I was warmly welcomed by Princess Tyszicwiez, niece of Stanislaus Augustus, the last King of Poland, and sister of Prince Poniatowski. The Princess was very knowledgeable and a big fan of French literature. At her invitation, I spent several evenings with the King in a small circle that felt quite intimate. I remember that His Majesty often asked me to read the Moniteur; he particularly enjoyed the speeches by the Girondists. Princess Tyszicwiez wanted to print in Warsaw, at her own expense, a translation I did of Kotzebue's 'Menschenhass and Reue,' which I titled 'L'Inconnu.'






 —[A play known on the English stage as The Stranger.]— 
 —[A play known on the English stage as The Stranger.]—







      I arrived at Vienna on the 26th of March 1792, when I was informed of the
      serious illness of the Emperor, Leopold II, who died on the following day.
      In private companies, and at public places, I heard vague suspicions
      expressed of his having been poisoned; but the public, who were admitted
      to the palace to see the body lie in state, were soon convinced of the
      falsehood of these reports. I went twice to see the mournful spectacle,
      and I never heard a word which was calculated to confirm the odious
      suspicion, though the spacious hall in which the remains of the Emperor
      were exposed was constantly thronged with people.
    
I arrived in Vienna on March 26, 1792, and learned about the serious illness of Emperor Leopold II, who died the next day. In private gatherings and public places, I heard vague rumors that he had been poisoned; however, the public, who were allowed into the palace to view the body lying in state, quickly dismissed these claims as false. I went to see the somber scene twice, and I never heard anything that would support the disturbing rumor, even though the large hall where the Emperor's remains were on display was always crowded with people.







      In the month of April 1792 I returned to Paris, where I again met
      Bonaparte,
    
In April 1792, I returned to Paris, where I met Bonaparte again,






 —[Bonaparte is said, on very doubtful authority, to have spent five
   or six weeks in London in 1791 or 1792, and to have "lodged in a
   house in George Street, Strand. His chief occupation appeared to be
   taking pedestrian exercise in the streets of London—hence his
   marvellous knowledge of the great metropolis which used to astonish
   any Englishmen of distinction who were not aware of this visit. He
   occasionally took his cup of chocolate at the 'Northumberland,'
   occupying himself in reading, and preserving a provoking taciturnity
   to the gentlemen in the room; though his manner was stern, his
   deportment was that of a gentleman." The story of his visit is
   probably as apocryphal as that of his offering his services to the
   English Government when the English forces wore blockading the coast
   of Corsica,]— 
—It's said, though the source is questionable, that Bonaparte spent about five or six weeks in London in 1791 or 1792 and "stayed in a house on George Street, Strand. He mainly seemed to enjoy walking around the streets of London—this is how he gained his impressive knowledge of the city that would surprise many distinguished Englishmen who were unaware of his visit. He sometimes had his cup of chocolate at the 'Northumberland,' where he would read and maintain a frustrating silence towards the gentlemen in the room; despite his stern demeanor, he behaved like a gentleman." The tale of his visit is likely as fabricated as the story of him offering his services to the English Government while the English forces were blockading the coast of Corsica.—







      and our college intimacy was fully renewed. I was not very well off, and
      adversity was hanging heavily on him; his resources frequently failed him.
      We passed our time like two young fellows of twenty-three who have little
      money and less occupation. Bonaparte was always poorer than I. Every day
      we conceived some new project or other. We were on the look-out for some
      profitable speculation. At one time he wanted me to join him in renting
      several houses, then building in the Rue Montholon, to underlet them
      afterwards. We found the demands of the landlords extravagant—everything
      failed.
    
and our college closeness was completely revived. I wasn’t doing very well financially, and he was struggling too; he often ran out of resources. We spent our days like two guys in their twenties with little money and even less to do. Bonaparte was always poorer than I was. Every day we came up with some new idea or another. We were looking for a good investment opportunity. At one point, he wanted me to partner with him in renting several houses, then building on Rue Montholon to sublet them later. However, we found the landlords' demands outrageous—everything fell through.







      At the same time he was soliciting employment at the War Office, and I at
      the office of Foreign Affairs. I was for the moment the luckier of the
      two.
    
At the same time he was looking for a job at the War Office, I was at the Foreign Affairs office. For the moment, I was the luckier of the two.







      While we were spending our time in a somewhat vagabond way,
    
While we were spending our time in a somewhat wandering manner,






 —[It was before the 20th of June that in our frequent excursions
   around Paris we went to St. Cyr to see his sister Marianne (Elisa).
   We returned to dine alone at Trianon.—Bourrienne.]— 
 —[Before June 20th, during our regular trips around Paris, we visited St. Cyr to see his sister Marianne (Elisa). We then returned to Trianon for a solitary dinner.]—Bourrienne.]—







      the 20th of June arrived. We met by appointment at a restaurateur's in the
      Rue St. Honore, near the Palais Royal, to take one of our daily rambles.
      On going out we saw approaching, in the direction of the market, a mob,
      which Bonaparte calculated at five or six thousand men. They were all in
      rags, ludicrously armed with weapons of every description, and were
      proceeding hastily towards the Tuilleries, vociferating all kinds of gross
      abuse. It was a collection of all that was most vile and abject in the
      purlieus of Paris. "Let us follow the mob," said Bonaparte. We got the
      start of them, and took up our station on the terrace of the banks of the
      river. It was there that he witnessed the scandalous scenes which took
      place; and it would be difficult to describe the surprise and indignation
      which they excited in him. When the King showed himself at the windows
      overlooking the garden, with the red cap, which one of the mob had put on
      his head, he could no longer repress his indignation. "Che coglione!" he
      loudly exclaimed. "Why have they let in all that rabble! They should sweep
      off four or five hundred of them with the cannon; the rest would then set
      off fast enough."
    
On June 20th, we met as planned at a restaurant on Rue St. Honore, near the Palais Royal, to go for one of our daily walks. As we stepped outside, we saw a crowd coming from the direction of the market, which Bonaparte estimated to be around five or six thousand people. They were all in tattered clothes, absurdly armed with various makeshift weapons, and were rushing toward the Tuileries, shouting all sorts of vile insults. It was a gathering of the most wretched and desperate from the outskirts of Paris. "Let's follow the crowd," Bonaparte suggested. We got ahead of them and positioned ourselves on the terrace by the river. It was there that he witnessed the outrageous scenes unfolding, and it would be hard to describe the shock and anger they caused him. When the King appeared at the windows overlooking the garden, wearing the red cap that one of the rioters had placed on his head, he could no longer hold back his outrage. "What an idiot!" he shouted. "Why have they let all this rabble in? They should clear out four or five hundred of them with cannon fire; then the rest would run away fast enough."







      When we sat down to dinner, which I paid for, as I generally did, for I
      was the richer of the two, he spoke of nothing but the scene we had
      witnessed. He discussed with great good sense the causes and consequences
      of this unrepressed insurrection. He foresaw and developed with sagacity
      all that would ensue. He was not mistaken. The 10th of August soon
      arrived. I was then at Stuttgart, where I was appointed Secretary of
      Legation.
    
When we sat down for dinner, which I paid for as I usually did since I was the wealthier one, he talked only about the scene we had witnessed. He discussed the causes and effects of this unchecked uprising with impressive insight. He anticipated and explained everything that would follow. He was right. The 10th of August came soon after. I was in Stuttgart at that time, where I had been appointed Secretary of Legation.







      At St. Helena Bonaparte said, "On the news of the attack of the
      Tuilleries, on the 10th of August, I hurried to Fauvelet, Bourrienne's
      brother, who then kept a furniture warehouse at the Carrousel." This is
      partly correct. My brother was connected with what was termed an
      'enterprise d'encan national', where persons intending to quit France
      received an advance of money, on depositing any effects which they wished
      to dispose of, and which were sold for them immediately. Bonaparte had
      some time previously pledged his watch in this way.
    
At St. Helena, Bonaparte said, "When I heard about the attack on the Tuileries on August 10th, I rushed to Fauvelet, Bourrienne's brother, who was running a furniture store at the Carrousel." This is mostly correct. My brother was involved in what was called a 'national auction business,' where people planning to leave France could get an advance on money by depositing items they wanted to sell, and those items were sold for them right away. Bonaparte had previously pledged his watch in this manner.







      After the fatal 10th of August Bonaparte went to Corsica, and did not
      return till 1793. Sir Walter Scott says that after that time he never saw
      Corsica again. This is a mistake, as will be shown when I speak of his
      return from Egypt.
    
After the deadly 10th of August, Bonaparte went to Corsica and didn't come back until 1793. Sir Walter Scott claims that after that, he never saw Corsica again. This is incorrect, as will be explained when I discuss his return from Egypt.






 —[Sir Walter appears to have collected his information for the Life
   of Napoleon only from those libels and vulgar stories which
   gratified the calumnious spirit and national hatred. His work is
   written with excessive negligence, which, added to its numerous
   errors, shows how much respect he must have entertained for his
   readers. It would appear that his object was to make it the inverse
   of his novels, where everything is borrowed from history. I have
   been assured that Marshal Macdonald having offered to introduce
   Scott to some generals who could have furnished him with the most
   accurate, information respecting military events, the glory of which
   they had shared, Sir Walter replied, "I thank you, but I shall
   collect my information from unprofessional reports."—Bourrienne.]— 
 —[Sir Walter seems to have gathered his information for the Life of Napoleon solely from those slanders and ridiculous tales that fed into the spiteful attitude and national animosity. His work is written with a lot of carelessness, and combined with its many mistakes, it shows how little respect he must have had for his readers. It looks like his goal was to make it the opposite of his novels, where everything is taken from real history. I've been told that when Marshal Macdonald offered to introduce Scott to some generals who could have provided him with the most accurate information about the military events they participated in, Sir Walter replied, "Thanks, but I'll gather my information from unofficial sources." —Bourrienne.] 







      Having been appointed Secretary of Legation to Stuttgart, I set off for
      that place on the 2d of August, and I did not again see my ardent young
      friend until 1795. He told me that my departure accelerated his for
      Corsica. We separated, as may be supposed, with but faint hopes of ever
      meeting again.
    
Having been appointed Secretary of Legation to Stuttgart, I left for that place on August 2nd, and I didn't see my enthusiastic young friend again until 1795. He mentioned that my departure made him leave for Corsica sooner. We parted ways, as you might expect, with only slight hopes of ever meeting again.







      By a decree of the 28th of March of 1793, all French agents abroad were
      ordered to return to France, within three months, under pain of being
      regarded as emigrants. What I had witnessed before my departure for
      Stuttgart, the excitement in which I had left the public mind, and the
      well-known consequences of events of this kind, made me fear that I should
      be compelled to be either an accomplice or a victim in the disastrous
      scenes which were passing at home. My disobedience of the law placed my
      name on the list of emigrants.
    
By a decree on March 28, 1793, all French agents abroad were ordered to return to France within three months, or they would be considered emigrants. What I had seen before I left for Stuttgart, the turmoil in public opinion at the time, and the well-known fallout from such events made me worry that I would have to either participate in or suffer from the terrible events happening back home. By not following the law, my name ended up on the list of emigrants.







      It has been said of me, in a biographical publication, that "it was as
      remarkable as it was fortunate for Bourrienne that, on his return, he got
      his name erased from the list of emigrants of the department of the Yonne,
      on which it had been inscribed during his first journey to Germany. This
      circumstance has been interpreted in several different ways, which are not
      all equally favourable to M. de Bourrienne."
    
It has been mentioned about me in a biography that "it was as remarkable as it was lucky for Bourrienne that, upon his return, he had his name removed from the list of emigrants in the Yonne department, where it had been recorded during his first trip to Germany. This situation has been interpreted in several different ways, not all of which are equally flattering to M. de Bourrienne."







      I do not understand what favourable interpretations can be put upon a
      statement entirely false. General Bonaparte repeatedly applied for the
      erasure of my name, from the month of April 1797, when I rejoined him at
      Leoben, to the period of the signature of the treaty of Campo-Formio; but
      without success. He desired his brother Louis, Berthier, Bernadotte, and
      others, when he sent them to the Directory, to urge my erasure; but in
      vain. He complained of this inattention to his wishes to Bottot, when he
      came to Passeriano, after the 18th Fructidor. Bottot, who was secretary to
      Barras, was astonished that I was not erased, and he made fine promises of
      what he would do. On his return to France he wrote to Bonaparte:
      "Bourrienne is erased." But this was untrue. I was not erased until
      November 1797, upon the reiterated solicitations of General Bonaparte.
    
I don’t get how anyone can put a positive spin on a completely false statement. General Bonaparte asked multiple times for my name to be removed from the records starting in April 1797, when I rejoined him at Leoben, all the way to when the treaty of Campo-Formio was signed, but he didn't succeed. He asked his brother Louis, Berthier, Bernadotte, and others to push for my removal when they went to the Directory, but it was all for nothing. He even expressed his frustration about this to Bottot when he visited Passeriano after the 18th of Fructidor. Bottot, who was Barras's secretary, was shocked that I hadn’t been removed, and he made big promises about what he would do. When he got back to France, he told Bonaparte, "Bourrienne is erased." But that was a lie. I wasn't actually erased until November 1797, after General Bonaparte requested it again and again.







      It was during my absence from France that Bonaparte, in the rank of 'chef
      de bataillon', performed his first campaign, and contributed so materially
      to the recapture of Toulon. Of this period of his life I have no personal
      knowledge, and therefore I shall not speak of it as an eye-witness. I
      shall merely relate some facts which fill up the interval between 1793 and
      1795, and which I have collected from papers which he himself delivered to
      me. Among these papers is a little production, entitled 'Le Souper de
      Beaucaire', the copies of which he bought up at considerable expense, and
      destroyed upon his attaining the Consulate. This little pamphlet contains
      principles very opposite to those he wished to see established in 1800, a
      period when extravagant ideas of liberty were no longer the fashion, and
      when Bonaparte entered upon a system totally the reverse of those
      republican principles professed in 'Le Souper de Beaucaire.
    
It was during my time away from France that Bonaparte, as a battalion chief, had his first campaign and played a significant role in reclaiming Toulon. I don’t have any personal knowledge of this part of his life, so I won’t describe it as an eyewitness. I’ll simply share some facts that fill in the gap between 1793 and 1795, which I gathered from documents he provided to me. Among these documents is a small work titled 'Le Souper de Beaucaire,' copies of which he bought at a substantial cost and destroyed once he became the Consul. This little pamphlet contains ideas that are very different from those he wanted to establish in 1800, a time when radical notions of liberty were no longer in vogue, and when Bonaparte adopted a system completely contrary to the republican principles expressed in 'Le Souper de Beaucaire.'






 —[This is not, as Sir Walter says, a dialogue between Marat and a
   Federalist, but a conversation between a military officer, a native
   of Nismes, a native of Marseilles, and a manufacturer from
   Montpellier. The latter, though he takes a share in the
   conversation, does not say much. 'Le Souper de Beaucaire' is given
   at full length in the French edition of these Memoirs, tome i. pp.
   319-347; and by Iung, tome ii. p. 354, with the following remarks:
   "The first edition of 'Le Souper de Beaucaire' was issued at the
   cost of the Public Treasury, in August 1798. Sabin Tournal, its
   editor, also then edited the 'Courrier d'Avignon'. The second
   edition only appeared twenty-eight years afterwards, in 1821,
   preceded by an introduction by Frederick Royou (Paris: Brasseur
   Aine, printer, Terrey, publisher, in octavo). This pamphlet did not
   make any sensation at the time it appeared. It was only when
   Napoleon became Commandant of the Army of Italy that M. Loubet,
   secretary and corrector of the press for M. Tournal, attached some
   value to the manuscript, and showed it to several persona. Louis
   Bonaparte, later, ordered several copies from M. Aurel. The
   pamphlet, dated 29th duly 1793, is in the form of a dialogue between
   an officer of the army, a citizen of Nismes, a manufacturer of
   Montpellier, and a citizen of Marseilles. Marseilles was then in a
   state of insurrection against the Convention. Its forces had seized
   Avignon, but had been driven out by the army of Cartesna, which was
   about to attack Marseilles itself." In the dialogue the officer
   gives most excellent military advice to the representative of
   Marseilles on the impossibility of their resisting the old soldiers
   of Carteaux. The Marseilles citizen argues but feebly, and is
   alarmed at the officer's representations; while his threat to call
   in the Spaniards turns the other speakers against him. Even Colonel
   Iung says, tome ii. p. 372, "In these concise judgments is felt the
   decision of the master and of the man of war..... These marvellous
   qualities consequently struck the members of the Convention, who
   made much of Bonaparte, authorised him to have it published at the
   public expense, and made him many promises." Lanfrey, vol. i. pp.
   201, says of this pamphlets "Common enough ideas, expressed in a
   style only remarkable for its 'Italianisms,' but becoming singularly
   firm and precise every time the author expresses his military views.
   Under an apparent roughness, we find in it a rare circumspection,
   leaving no hold on the writer, even if events change."]— 
—[This is not, as Sir Walter says, a dialogue between Marat and a Federalist, but a conversation among a military officer, a local from Nîmes, a local from Marseille, and a businessman from Montpellier. The businessman, while participating in the discussion, doesn’t contribute much. 'Le Souper de Beaucaire' is fully included in the French edition of these Memoirs, volume i, pages 319-347; and by Iung, volume ii, page 354, with the following remarks: "The first edition of 'Le Souper de Beaucaire' was published at the expense of the Public Treasury in August 1798. Sabin Tournal, its editor, also edited the 'Courrier d'Avignon' at that time. The second edition didn’t come out until twenty-eight years later, in 1821, preceded by an introduction from Frederick Royou (Paris: Brasseur Aine, printer, Terrey, publisher, in octavo). This pamphlet didn’t create a stir when it was released. It was only when Napoleon became the Commander of the Army of Italy that M. Loubet, secretary and proofreader for M. Tournal, recognized the value of the manuscript and showed it to several people. Later, Louis Bonaparte ordered several copies from M. Aurel. The pamphlet, dated July 29, 1793, is structured as a dialogue between an army officer, a resident of Nîmes, a businessman from Montpellier, and a citizen of Marseille. At that time, Marseille was in an uprising against the Convention. Its forces had taken Avignon but were expelled by Carteaux’s army, which was about to attack Marseille itself." In the dialogue, the officer provides excellent military advice to the representative from Marseille about the impossibility of resisting Carteaux’s seasoned soldiers. The Marseille citizen argues weakly and is unsettled by the officer’s warnings, while his threat to call in the Spaniards turns the other speakers against him. Even Colonel Iung comments, volume ii, page 372, "In these concise judgments, you can sense the decisiveness of the master and the soldier... These amazing qualities undoubtedly impressed the members of the Convention, who were very supportive of Bonaparte, authorized him to have it published at public expense, and made him many promises." Lanfrey, volume i, page 201, describes this pamphlet as "Fairly common ideas expressed in a style notable only for its ‘Italianisms,’ yet becoming remarkably firm and precise whenever the author shares his military opinions. Beneath an apparent roughness, we see a rare caution that leaves no leverage on the writer, even if circumstances change."]—







      It may be remarked, that in all that has come to us from St. Helena, not a
      word is said of this youthful production. Its character sufficiently
      explains this silence. In all Bonaparte's writings posterity will probably
      trace the profound politician rather than the enthusiastic revolutionist.
    
It’s worth noting that in everything we've received from St. Helena, there’s no mention of this early work. Its nature explains this absence. In all of Bonaparte's writings, future generations will likely see more of the shrewd politician than the passionate revolutionary.







      Some documents relative to Bonaparte's suspension and arrest, by order of
      the representatives Albitte and Salicetti, serve to place in their true
      light circumstances which have hitherto been misrepresented. I shall enter
      into some details of this event, because I have seen it stated that this
      circumstance of Bonaparte's life has been perverted and misrepresented by
      every person who has hitherto written about him; and the writer who makes
      this remark, himself describes the affair incorrectly and vaguely. Others
      have attributed Bonaparte's misfortune to a military discussion on war,
      and his connection with Robespierre the younger.
    
Some documents related to Bonaparte's suspension and arrest, ordered by representatives Albitte and Salicetti, help clarify circumstances that have been misrepresented. I will go into some details about this event because I've seen claims that this part of Bonaparte's life has been distorted by everyone who has written about him so far; even the writer who makes this claim describes the situation inaccurately and vaguely. Others have blamed Bonaparte's misfortune on a military debate about war and his association with Robespierre the younger.






 —[It will presently be seen that all this is erroneous, and that
   Sir Walter commits another mistake when he says that Bonaparte's
   connection with Robespierre was attended with fatal consequences to
   him, and that his justification consisted in acknowledging that his
   friends were very different from what he had supposed them to be.
   —Bourrienne.]— 
 —[It will soon become clear that all of this is incorrect, and that Sir Walter makes another error when he claims that Bonaparte's relationship with Robespierre had disastrous effects on him, and that his justification lay in admitting that his friends were very different from what he had thought they were. —Bourrienne.]—







      It has, moreover, been said that Albitte and Salicetti explained to the
      Committee of Public Safety the impossibility of their resuming the
      military operations unaided by the talents of General Bonaparte. This is
      mere flattery. The facts are these:
    
It has also been said that Albitte and Salicetti told the Committee of Public Safety that they couldn't continue military operations without the skills of General Bonaparte. This is just flattery. The facts are these:







      On the 13th of July 1794 (25th Messidor, year II), the representatives of
      the people with the army of Italy ordered that General Bonaparte should
      proceed to Genoa, there, conjointly with the French 'charge d'affaires',
      to confer on certain subjects with the Genoese Government. This mission,
      together with a list of secret instructions, directing him to examine the
      fortresses of Genoa and the neighbouring country, show the confidence
      which Bonaparte, who was then only twenty-five, inspired in men who were
      deeply interested in making a prudent choice of their agents.
    
On July 13, 1794 (25th Messidor, year II), the representatives of the people with the army of Italy instructed General Bonaparte to go to Genoa, where he would meet with the French charge d'affaires to discuss certain issues with the Genoese Government. This mission, along with a list of confidential instructions telling him to assess the fortifications of Genoa and the surrounding area, reflects the trust that Bonaparte, who was just twenty-five at the time, inspired in those who were very concerned about making careful selections for their agents.







      Bonaparte set off for Genoa, and fulfilled his mission. The 9th Thermidor
      arrived, and the deputies, called Terrorists, were superseded by Albitte
      and Salicetti. In the disorder which then prevailed they were either
      ignorant of the orders given to General Bonaparte, or persons envious of
      the rising glory of the young general of artillery inspired Albitte and
      Salicetti with suspicions prejudicial to him. Be this as it may, the two
      representatives drew up a resolution, ordering that General Bonaparte
      should be arrested, suspended from his rank, and arraigned before the
      Committee of Public Safety; and, extraordinary as it may appear, this
      resolution was founded in that very journey to Genoa which Bonaparte
      executed by the direction of the representatives of the people.
    
Bonaparte headed to Genoa and completed his mission. The 9th of Thermidor arrived, and the deputies, known as the Terrorists, were replaced by Albitte and Salicetti. Amid the chaos that followed, they either didn’t know the orders given to General Bonaparte or were influenced by those envious of the young artillery general’s rising fame, leading Albitte and Salicetti to have doubts about him. Regardless, the two representatives drafted a resolution to have General Bonaparte arrested, suspended from his position, and brought before the Committee of Public Safety; and, as strange as it sounds, this resolution was based on that very trip to Genoa that Bonaparte undertook at the request of the representatives of the people.






 —[Madame Junot throws some light on this Persecution of Bonaparte
   by Salicetti. "One motive (I do not mean to say the only one),"
   remarks this lady, "of the animosity shown by Salicetti to
   Bonaparte, in the affair of Loano, was that they were at one time
   suitors to the same lady. I am not sure whether it was in Corsica
   or in Paris, but I know for a fact that Bonaparte, in spite of his
   youth, or perhaps I should rather say on account of his youth, was
   the favoured lover. It was the opinion of my brother, who was
   secretary to Salicetti, that Bonaparte owed his life to a
   circumstance which is not very well known. The fact is, that
   Salicetti received a letter from Bonaparte, the contents of which
   appeared to make a deep impression on him. Bonaparte's papers had
   been delivered into Salicetti's hands, who, after an attentive
   perusal of them, laid them aside with evident dissatisfaction. He
   then took them up again, and read them a second time. Salicetti
   declined my brother's assistance is the examination of the papers,
   and after a second examination, which was probably as unsatisfactory
   as the first, he seated himself with a very abstracted air. It
   would appear that he had seen among the papers some document which
   concerned himself. Another curious fact is, that the man who had
   the care of the papers after they were sealed up was an inferior
   clerk entirely under the control of Salicetti; and my brother, whose
   business it was to have charge of the papers, was directed not to
   touch them. He has often spoken to me of this circumstance, and I
   mention it here as one of importance to the history of the time.
   Nothing that relates to a man like Napoleon can be considered
   useless or trivial.

   "What, after all, was the result of this strange business which
   might have cost Bonaparte his head?—for, had he been taken to Paris
   and tried by the Committee of Public Safety, there is little doubt
   that the friend of Robespierre the younger would have been condemned
   by Billaud-Varennes and Collot d'Herbois. The result was the
   acquittal of the accused. This result is the more extraordinary,
   since it would appear that at that time Salicetti stood in fear of
   the young general. A compliment is even paid to Bonaparte in the
   decree, by which he was provisionally restored to liberty. That
   liberation was said to be granted on the consideration that General
   Bonaparte might be useful to the Republic. This was foresight; but
   subsequently when measures were taken which rendered Bonaparte no
   longer an object of fear, his name was erased from the list of
   general officers, and it is a curious fact that Cambacérès, who was
   destined to be his colleague in the Consulate, was one of the
   persons who signed the act of erasure" (Memoirs of the Duchesse
   d'Abrantes, vol. i, p. 69, edit. 1843).]— 
—[Madame Junot sheds some light on Salicetti's persecution of Bonaparte. "One reason (I don't mean to suggest it's the only one)," she notes, "for the hostility Salicetti showed toward Bonaparte during the Loano incident was that they were both interested in the same woman at one point. I'm not sure if it was in Corsica or Paris, but I know for sure that Bonaparte, despite his youth—or perhaps because of it—was the favored suitor. My brother, who worked as Salicetti's secretary, believed Bonaparte owed his life to a lesser-known circumstance. In fact, Salicetti received a letter from Bonaparte that seemed to greatly affect him. Bonaparte's documents were handed over to Salicetti, who, after reading them carefully, set them aside with obvious displeasure. He then picked them up again and read them a second time. Salicetti refused my brother's help with reviewing the papers, and after a second examination, which was likely as unsatisfactory as the first, he sat down looking very distracted. It appeared he had come across something in the documents that pertained to him. Another interesting detail is that the person who handled the papers after they were sealed was a low-ranking clerk completely under Salicetti's control; and my brother, who was supposed to be in charge of the papers, was instructed not to touch them. He has often mentioned this situation to me, and I bring it up here as significant to the history of the time. Nothing related to a figure like Napoleon can be seen as insignificant or trivial.

"What was the outcome of this bizarre affair that could have cost Bonaparte his life?—because had he been taken to Paris and tried by the Committee of Public Safety, it's quite likely that the friend of Robespierre the younger would have been found guilty by Billaud-Varennes and Collot d'Herbois. The outcome was the acquittal of the accused. This result is even more remarkable, considering that at the time, Salicetti seemed afraid of the young general. A compliment was even extended to Bonaparte in the decree that provisionally restored his freedom. This release was said to be granted on the grounds that General Bonaparte could be useful to the Republic. This was prescient; however, later, when actions were taken that made Bonaparte no longer a threat, his name was removed from the list of general officers, and it's interesting to note that Cambacérès, who would later become his colleague in the Consulate, was one of those who signed the removal act" (Memoirs of the Duchesse d'Abrantes, vol. i, p. 69, edit. 1843).]—







      Bonaparte said at St. Helena that he was a short time imprisoned by order
      of the representative Laporte; but the order for his arrest was signed by
      Albitte, Salicetti, and Laporte.
    
Bonaparte said at St. Helena that he was briefly imprisoned by order of the representative Laporte; however, the arrest order was signed by Albitte, Salicetti, and Laporte.






 —[Albitte and Laporte were the representatives sent from the
   Convention to the army of the Alps, and Salicetti to the army of
   Italy.]— 
 —[Albitte and Laporte were the representatives sent from the Convention to the Alps army, and Salicetti to the Italy army.]—







      Laporte was not probably the most influential of the three, for Bonaparte
      did not address his remonstrance to him. He was a fortnight under arrest.
    
Laporte wasn’t likely the most influential of the three, since Bonaparte didn’t direct his complaint to him. He spent two weeks under arrest.







      Had the circumstance occurred three weeks earlier, and had Bonaparte been
      arraigned before the Committee of Public Safety previous to the 9th
      Thermidor, there is every probability that his career would have been at
      an end; and we should have seen perish on the scaffold, at the age of
      twenty-five, the man who, during the twenty-five succeeding years, was
      destined to astonish the world by his vast conceptions, his gigantic
      projects, his great military genius, his extraordinary good fortune, his
      faults, reverses, and final misfortunes.
    
If this had happened three weeks earlier, and if Bonaparte had been brought before the Committee of Public Safety before the 9th of Thermidor, it’s very likely that his career would have ended; and we would have witnessed the execution of a man, just twenty-five years old, who would go on to amaze the world over the next twenty-five years with his grand ideas, huge plans, military brilliance, remarkable luck, his mistakes, setbacks, and eventual downfalls.







      It is worth while to remark that in the post-Thermidorian resolution just
      alluded to no mention is made of Bonaparte's association with Robespierre
      the younger. The severity with which he was treated is the more
      astonishing, since his mission to Genoa was the alleged cause of it. Was
      there any other charge against him, or had calumny triumphed over the
      services he had rendered to his country? I have frequently conversed with
      him on the subject of this adventure, and he invariably assured me that he
      had nothing to reproach himself with, and that his defence, which I shall
      subjoin, contained the pure expression of his sentiments, and the exact
      truth.
    
It's worth noting that in the post-Thermidorian resolution mentioned earlier, there's no reference to Bonaparte's connection with Robespierre the younger. The harshness of the treatment he received is even more surprising, given that his mission to Genoa was supposedly the reason for it. Was there another accusation against him, or had slander overshadowed the contributions he made to his country? I've often discussed this incident with him, and he always assured me that he had no regrets about his actions, and that his defense, which I will include, reflected his true feelings and the complete truth.







      In the following note, which he addressed to Albitte and Salicetti, he
      makes no mention of Laporte. The copy which I possess is in the
      handwriting of, Junot, with corrections in the General's hand. It exhibits
      all the characteristics of Napoleon's writing: his short sentences, his
      abrupt rather than concise style, sometimes his elevated ideas, and always
      his plain good sense.
    
In the note that he sent to Albitte and Salicetti, he doesn't mention Laporte. The version I have is in Junot's handwriting, with corrections made by the General. It shows all the traits of Napoleon's writing: his short sentences, his abrupt rather than concise style, his elevated ideas at times, and always his straightforward common sense.



















 TO THE REPRESENTATIVES ALBITTE AND SALICETTI: 








          You have suspended me from my duties, put me under arrest, and
          declared me to be suspected.
        







          Thus I am disgraced before being judged, or indeed judged before being
          heard.
        







          In a revolutionary state there are two classes, the suspected and the
          patriots.
        







          When the first are aroused, general measures are adopted towards them
          for the sake of security.
        







          The oppression of the second class is a blow to public liberty. The
          magistrate cannot condemn until after the fullest evidence and a
          succession of facts. This leaves nothing to arbitrary decision.
        







          To declare a patriot suspected is to deprive him of all that he most
          highly values—confidence and esteem.
        







          In what class am I placed?
        







          Since the commencement of the Revolution, have I not always been
          attached to its principles?
        







          Have I not always been contending either with domestic enemies or
          foreign foes?
        







          I sacrificed my home, abandoned my property, and lost everything for
          the Republic?
        







          I have since served with some distinction at Toulon, and earned a part
          of the laurels of the army of Italy at the taking of Saorgio, Oneille,
          and Tanaro.
        







          On the discovery of Robespierre's conspiracy, my conduct was that of a
          man accustomed to look only to principles.
        







          My claim to the title of patriot, therefore cannot be disputed.
        







          Why, then, am I declared suspected without being heard, and arrested
          eight days after I heard the news of the tyrant's death.
        







          I am declared suspected, and my papers are placed under seal.
        







          The reverse of this course ought to have been adopted. My papers
          should first have been sealed; then I should have been called on for
          my explanation; and, lastly, declared suspected, if there was reason
          for coming to, such a decision.
        







          It is wished that I should go to Paris with an order which declares me
          suspected. It will naturally be presumed that the representatives did
          not draw up this decree without accurate information, and I shall be
          judged with the bias which a man of that class merits.
        







          Though a patriot and an innocent and calumniated man, yet whatever
          measures may be adopted by the Committee I cannot complain.
        







          If three men declare that I have committed a crime, I cannot complain
          of the jury who condemns me.
        







          Salicetti, you know me; and I ask whether you have observed anything
          in my conduct for the last five years which can afford ground of
          suspicion?
        







          Albitte, you do not know me; but you have received proof of no fact
          against me; you have not heard me, and you know how artfully the
          tongue of calumny sometimes works.
        







          Must I then be confounded with the enemies of my country and ought the
          patriots inconsiderately to sacrifice a general who has not been
          useless to the Republic? Ought the representatives to reduce the
          Government to the necessity of being unjust and impolitic?
        







          Hear me; destroy the oppression that overwhelms me, and restore me to
          the esteem of the patriots.
        







          An hour after, if my enemies wish for my life, let them take it. I
          have often given proofs how little I value it. Nothing but the thought
          that I may yet be useful to my country makes me bear the burden of
          existence with courage.
        




















 TO REPRESENTATIVES ALBITTE AND SALICETTI: 




You’ve put me on leave from my duties, arrested me, and called me a suspect.




Therefore, I am shamed before being judged, or rather judged before being heard.




In a revolutionary state, there are two classes: the suspected and the patriots.




When the first group is provoked, standard actions are taken against them for safety reasons.




Oppressing the second group undermines public freedom. The magistrate can't pass judgment until there's complete evidence and a set of facts. This ensures that nothing is left to arbitrary decision.




To label a patriot as suspicious is to take away everything they value most—trust and respect.




Which class am I in?




Since the beginning of the Revolution, haven’t I always committed myself to its principles?




Have I not continuously fought against local enemies or outside threats?




I sacrificed my home, left my belongings behind, and lost everything for the Republic?




I have since served with distinction at Toulon and earned a share of the honors of the army of Italy when we captured Saorgio, Oneille, and Tanaro.




When I discovered Robespierre's conspiracy, I acted with a focus solely on principles.




No one can dispute my claim to the title of patriot.




Why am I viewed as a suspect without being given a chance to speak, and arrested eight days after hearing about the tyrant's death?




I am branded as a suspect, and my documents are sealed.




The opposite should have happened. My documents should have been sealed first; then I should have been asked for my explanation; and finally, labeled as suspicious if there was a reason to do so.




It is anticipated that I will be sent to Paris with an order stating that I am suspected. Naturally, it will be assumed that the representatives didn’t issue this decree without valid information, and I will be judged with the bias that someone of that status deserves.




Even though I’m a patriot and an innocent person who has been wronged, I can’t complain about whatever actions the Committee decides to take.




If three people say I’ve committed a crime, I can’t complain about the jury that finds me guilty.




Salicetti, you know me; I ask if you’ve seen anything in my behavior over the last five years that would give you cause for suspicion?




Albitte, you don’t know me; but you have no evidence of any wrongdoing on my part; you haven’t heard my side, and you know how easily gossip can distort the truth.




Must I really be grouped with my country's enemies, and should patriots carelessly sacrifice a general who hasn’t been a burden to the Republic? Should the representatives force the Government into being unfair and unwise?




Listen to me; end the oppression that weighs on me, and restore me to the goodwill of the patriots.




An hour later, if my enemies want my life, they can have it. I have shown many times how little I value it. The only thing that helps me endure this life with strength is the thought that I might still be of service to my country.















      It appears that this defence, which is remarkable for its energetic
      simplicity, produced an effect on Albitte and Salicetti. Inquiries more
      accurate, and probably more favourable to the General, were instituted;
      and on the 3d Fructidor (20th August 1794) the representatives of the
      people drew up a decree stating that, after a careful examination of
      General Bonaparte's papers, and of the orders he had received relative to
      his mission to Genoa, they saw nothing to justify any suspicion of his
      conduct; and that, moreover, taking into consideration the advantage that
      might accrue to the Republic from the military talents of the said General
      Bonaparte, it was resolved that he should be provisionally set at liberty.
    
It seems that this defense, notable for its straightforward energy, had an impact on Albitte and Salicetti. More thorough inquiries, likely more favorable to the General, were conducted; and on the 3rd of Fructidor (August 20, 1794), the representatives of the people issued a decree stating that, after a careful review of General Bonaparte's documents and the orders he received regarding his mission to Genoa, they found nothing to raise any doubts about his behavior. Furthermore, considering the potential benefits to the Republic from General Bonaparte's military skills, they decided to temporarily release him.






 —[With reference to the arrest of Bonaparte (which lasted thirteen
   days) see 'Bourrienne et ses Erreurs', tome i. pp. 16-28, and Iung,
   tome ii. pp. 443-457. Both, in opposition to Bourrienne, attribute
   the arrest to his connection with the younger Robespierre.
   Apparently Albitte and Salicetti wets not acquainted with the secret
   plan of campaign prepared by the younger Robespierre and by
   Bonaparte, or with the real instructions given for the mission to
   Genoa. Jealousy between the representatives in the staff of the
   army of the Alps and those with the army of Italy, with which
   Napoleon was, also played a part in the affair. Iung looks on
   Salicetti as acting as the protector of the Bonapartes; but Napoleon
   does not seem to have regarded him in that light; see the letter
   given in Tunot, vol. i. p. 106, where in 1795 he takes credit for
   not returning the ill done to him; see also the same volume, p. 89.
   Salicetti eventually became Minister of Police to Joseph, when King
   of Naples, in 1806; but when he applied to return to France,
   Napoleon said to Mathieu Dumas, "Let him know that I am not powerful
   enough to protect the wretches who voted for the death of Louis XVI.
   from the contempt and indignation of the public" (Dumas, tome iii.
   p. 318). At the same time Napoleon described Salicetti as worse
   than the lazzaroni.]— 
 —[For details on Bonaparte's arrest (which lasted thirteen days), see 'Bourrienne et ses Erreurs', volume i, pages 16-28, and Iung, volume ii, pages 443-457. Both authors, contrary to Bourrienne, connect the arrest to his ties with the younger Robespierre. Apparently, Albitte and Salicetti weren't aware of the secret campaign plans prepared by the younger Robespierre and Bonaparte, nor the actual instructions given for the mission to Genoa. Jealousy between the representatives of the Army of the Alps and those with the Army of Italy, with which Napoleon was involved, also contributed to the situation. Iung views Salicetti as a protector of the Bonapartes; however, Napoleon didn't seem to see him that way. Refer to the letter in Tunot, volume i, page 106, where in 1795 he takes credit for not retaliating against the wrong done to him; also see volume i, page 89. Salicetti eventually became the Minister of Police under Joseph, when he was King of Naples, in 1806; but when he requested to return to France, Napoleon told Mathieu Dumas, "Let him know that I am not powerful enough to protect the wretches who voted for the death of Louis XVI from the contempt and indignation of the public" (Dumas, volume iii, page 318). At the same time, Napoleon described Salicetti as worse than the lazzaroni.]—







      Salicetti afterwards became the friend and confidant of young Bonaparte;
      but their intimacy did not continue after his elevation.
    
Salicetti later became the friend and confidant of young Bonaparte, but their close relationship didn't last after his rise to power.







      What is to be thought of the motives for Bonaparte's arrest and
      provisional liberation, when his innocence and the error that had been
      committed were acknowledged? The importance of the General's military
      talents, though no mention is made about the impossibility of dispensing
      with them, is a pretence for restoring him to that liberty of which he had
      been unjustly deprived.
    
What should we think about the reasons behind Bonaparte's arrest and temporary release, given that his innocence and the mistake that was made have been recognized? The significance of the General's military skills, although there's no mention of the impossibility of doing without them, is just an excuse to give him back the freedom he was wrongfully denied.







      It was not at Toulon, as has been stated, that Bonaparte took Duroc into
      the artillery, and made him his 'aide de camp'.
    
It wasn't at Toulon, as some have claimed, that Bonaparte brought Duroc into the artillery and made him his 'aide de camp'.






 —[Michel Duroc (1773-1813) at first only aide de camp to Napoleon,
   was several times entrusted with special diplomatic missions (for
   example, to Berlin, etc.) On the formation of the Empire he became
   Grand Marechal du Palais, and Duc de Frioul. He always remained in
   close connection with Napoleon until he was killed in 1813. As he
   is often mentioned in contemporary memoirs under his abbreviated
   title of 'Marshal', he has sometimes been erroneously included in
   the number of the Marshals of the Empire—a military rank he never
   attained to.]— 
—[Michel Duroc (1773-1813) initially served as an aide-de-camp to Napoleon and was assigned several special diplomatic missions (for instance, to Berlin, etc.). When the Empire was established, he became Grand Marshal of the Palace and Duke of Frioul. He maintained a close relationship with Napoleon until his death in 1813. Since he is frequently mentioned in contemporary memoirs by his shortened title 'Marshal,' he has sometimes been mistakenly included among the Marshals of the Empire—a military rank he never achieved.]—







      The acquaintance was formed at a subsequent period, in Italy. Duroc's cold
      character and unexcursive mind suited Napoleon, whose confidence he
      enjoyed until his death, and who entrusted him with missions perhaps above
      his abilities. At St. Helena Bonaparte often declared that he was much
      attached to Duroc. I believe this to be true; but I know that the
      attachment was not returned. The ingratitude of princes is proverbial. May
      it not happen that courtiers are also sometimes ungrateful?—[It is
      only just to Duroc to add that this charge does not seem borne out by the
      impressions of those more capable than Bourrienne of judging in the
      matter.]
    
The friendship was formed later on in Italy. Duroc's reserved personality and narrow-mindedness matched well with Napoleon, who had complete confidence in him until his death and often gave him tasks that may have been beyond his skills. While at St. Helena, Bonaparte frequently stated how much he cared for Duroc. I believe that's true; however, I know that Duroc didn't feel the same way. It's well-known that princes can be ungrateful. Could it be that courtiers are sometimes ungrateful too?—[It’s only fair to mention that this accusation against Duroc doesn’t seem to be supported by the opinions of those more qualified than Bourrienne to evaluate the situation.]








 


 




















      CHAPTER III.
    



      1794-1795.
    
1794-1795.


   Proposal to send Bonaparte to La Vendée—He is struck off the list
   of general officers—Salicetti—Joseph's marriage with Mademoiselle
   Clary—Bonaparte's wish to go to Turkey—Note explaining the plan of
   his proposed expedition—Madame Bourrienne's character of Bonaparte,
   and account of her husband's arrest—Constitution of the year III—
   The 13th Vendemiaire—Bonaparte appointed second in command of the
   army of the interior—Eulogium of Bonaparte by Barras, and its
   consequences—St. Helena manuscript.

   Proposal to send Bonaparte to La Vendée—He is removed from the list of general officers—Salicetti—Joseph's marriage to Mademoiselle Clary—Bonaparte's desire to go to Turkey—Note explaining the plan for his proposed expedition—Madame Bourrienne's description of Bonaparte, and her account of her husband's arrest—Constitution of the year III—The 13th Vendemiaire—Bonaparte appointed second in command of the army of the interior—Praise for Bonaparte by Barras, and its effects—St. Helena manuscript.







      General Bonaparte returned to Paris, where I also arrived from Germany
      shortly after him. Our intimacy was resumed, and he gave me an account of,
      all that had passed in the campaign of the south. He frequently alluded to
      the persecutions he had suffered, and he delivered to me the packet of
      papers noticed in the last chapter, desiring me to communicate their
      contents to my friends. He was very anxious, he said, to do away with the
      supposition that he was capable of betraying his country, and, under the
      pretence of a mission to Genoa, becoming a SPY on the interests of France.
      He loved to talk over his military achievements at Toulon and in Italy. He
      spoke of his first successes with that feeling of pleasure and
      gratification which they were naturally calculated to excite in him.
    
General Bonaparte returned to Paris, and I arrived from Germany shortly after him. Our friendship picked up where it left off, and he filled me in on everything that happened during the campaign in the south. He often mentioned the hardships he had endured and handed me the packet of papers I had referred to in the last chapter, asking me to share their contents with my friends. He was very eager to dispel the idea that he would betray his country and, under the guise of a mission to Genoa, turn into a spy against France. He loved discussing his military successes in Toulon and Italy, speaking about his initial victories with the joy and satisfaction they naturally brought him.







      The Government wished to send him to La Vendée, with the rank of
      brigadier-general of infantry. Bonaparte rejected this proposition on two
      grounds. He thought the scene of action unworthy of his talents, and he
      regarded his projected removal from the artillery to the infantry as a
      sort of insult. This last was his most powerful objection, and was the
      only one he urged officially. In consequence of his refusal to accept the
      appointment offered him, the Committee of Public Safety decreed that he
      should be struck off the list of general officers.
    
The Government wanted to send him to La Vendée as a brigadier general of infantry. Bonaparte turned down this offer for two reasons. He believed the battlefield wasn't suited to his skills, and he saw the idea of moving him from artillery to infantry as an insult. The latter was his strongest objection and the only one he officially raised. As a result of his refusal to accept the position offered to him, the Committee of Public Safety decided to remove him from the list of general officers.






 —[This statement as to the proposed transfer of Bonaparte to the
   infantry, his disobedience to the order, and his consequent
   dismissal, is fiercely attacked in the 'Erreurs', tome i. chap. iv.
   It is, however, correct in some points; but the real truths about
   Bonaparte's life at this time seem so little known that it may be
   well to explain the whole matter. On the 27th of March 1795
   Bonaparte, already removed from his employment in the south, was
   ordered to proceed to the army of the west to command its artillery
   as brigadier-general. He went as far as Paris, and then lingered
   there, partly on medical certificate. While in Paris he applied, as
   Bourrienne says, to go to Turkey to organise its artillery. His
   application, instead of being neglected, as Bourrienne says, was
   favourably received, two members of the 'Comite de Saint Public'
   putting on its margin most favorable reports of him; one, Jean
   Debry, even saying that he was too distinguished an officer to be
   sent to a distance at such a time. Far from being looked on as the
   half-crazy fellow Bourrienne considered him at that time, Bonaparte
   was appointed, on the 21st of August 1795, one of four generals
   attached as military advisers to the Committee for the preparation
   of warlike operations, his own department being a most important
   one. He himself at the time tells Joseph that he is attached to the
   topographical bureau of the Comite de Saint Public, for the
   direction of the armies in the place of Carnot. It is apparently
   this significant appointment to which Madame Junot, wrongly dating
   it, alludes as "no great thing" (Junot, vol. i, p. 143). Another
   officer was therefore substituted for him as commander of Roches
   artillery, a fact made use of in the Erreurs (p. 31) to deny his
   having been dismissed—But a general re-classification of the
   generals was being made. The artillery generals were in excess of
   their establishment, and Bonaparte, as junior in age, was ordered on
   13th June to join Hoche's army at Brest to command a brigade of
   infantry. All his efforts to get the order cancelled failed, and as
   he did not obey it he was struck off the list of employed general
   officers on the 15th of September 1795, the order of the 'Comite de
   Salut Public' being signed by Cambacérès, Berber, Merlin, and
   Boissy. His application to go to Turkey still, however, remained;
   and it is a curious thing that, on the very day he was struck off
   the list, the commission which had replaced the Minister of War
   recommended to the 'Comite de Saint Public' that he and his two
   aides de camp, Junot and Livrat, with other officers, under him,
   should be sent to Constantinople. So late as the 29th of September,
   twelve days later, this matter was being considered, the only
   question being as to any departmental objections to the other
   officers selected by him, a point which was just being settled. But
   on the 13th Vendemiaire (5th October 1795), or rather on the night
   before, only nineteen days after his removal, he was appointed
   second in command to Barras, a career in France was opened to him,
   and Turkey was no longer thought of.

   Thiers (vol. iv, p. 326) and most writers, contemporary and
   otherwise, say that Aubry gave the order for his removal from the
   list. Aubry, himself a brigadier-general of artillery, did not
   belong to the 'Comite de Salut Public' at the time Bonaparte was
   removed from the south; and he had left the Comite early is August,
   that is, before the order striking Bonaparte off was given. Aubry
   was, however, on the Comite in June 1795, and signed the order,
   which probably may have originated from him, for the transfer of
   Bonaparte to the infantry. It will be seen that, in the ordinary
   military sense of the term, Napoleon was only in Paris without
   employment from the 15th of September to the 4th or 6th of October
   1796; all the rest of the time in Paris he had a command which he
   did not choose to take up. The distress under which Napoleon is
   said to have laboured in pecuniary matters was probably shared by
   most officers at that time; see 'Erreurs', tome i. p. 32. This
   period is fully described in Iung, tome ii. p. 476, and tome iii.
   pp. 1-93.]— 
 —[This statement about Bonaparte’s proposed transfer to the infantry, his refusal to comply with the order, and his subsequent dismissal is strongly criticized in the 'Erreurs', tome i. chap. iv. However, it is accurate in some aspects; yet the real facts about Bonaparte’s life at this time seem to be poorly understood, so it’s worth explaining the entire situation. On March 27, 1795, Bonaparte, having already been removed from his position in the south, was ordered to join the army in the west to lead its artillery as a brigadier-general. He traveled as far as Paris, where he stayed longer than expected, partly due to a medical certificate. While in Paris, he requested, as Bourrienne mentions, to go to Turkey to organize its artillery. Contrary to Bourrienne's claim that his request was ignored, it was actually well-received, with two members of the 'Comite de Saint Public' adding very positive comments in the margins; one, Jean Debry, even stated that Bonaparte was too esteemed an officer to be sent far away during such crucial times. Contrary to Bourrienne’s view of him as somewhat unstable at that time, Bonaparte was appointed on August 21, 1795, as one of four generals serving as military advisors to the Committee for planning war operations, with his own department being highly significant. At that time, he told Joseph he was attached to the topographical bureau of the Comite de Saint Public, overseeing the armies in place of Carnot. It seems this notable appointment is what Madame Junot inaccurately referred to as "no big deal" (Junot, vol. i, p. 143). Another officer was thus appointed in his place to command Roche’s artillery, a fact referenced in the Erreurs (p. 31) to argue against his dismissal—However, a general reclassification of the generals was occurring. The number of artillery generals exceeded their quota, and as the junior officer, Bonaparte was ordered on June 13 to join Hoche’s army at Brest to command an infantry brigade. All his attempts to reverse this order were unsuccessful, and because he did not comply, he was removed from the list of employed generals on September 15, 1795, with the order from the 'Comite de Salut Public’ signed by Cambacérès, Berber, Merlin, and Boissy. His request to go to Turkey still stood; interestingly, on the very day he was taken off the list, the commission that succeeded the Minister of War recommended to the 'Comite de Saint Public' that he and his two aides-de-camp, Junot and Livrat, along with other officers under his command, should be sent to Constantinople. As late as September 29, twelve days later, this was still being discussed, the only issue being any departmental objections to the other officers he had selected, which was just being finalized. But on the 13th Vendémiaire (October 5, 1795), or rather the night before, just nineteen days after his removal, he was appointed second in command to Barras, opening a career path for him in France, and thoughts of Turkey were dismissed.

Thiers (vol. iv, p. 326) and most contemporary writers claim that Aubry gave the order for Bonaparte's removal from the list. Aubry, a brigadier-general of artillery, wasn’t part of the 'Comite de Salut Public' when Bonaparte was cut from the south; he had left the committee early in August, before the order to remove Bonaparte was issued. However, Aubry was part of the committee in June 1795 and signed the order for Bonaparte’s transfer to the infantry, which likely originated from him. It’s clear that, in the usual military context, Napoleon was only unoccupied in Paris from September 15 to October 4 or 6, 1796; during the rest of his time in Paris, he held a command that he chose not to take up. The financial struggles Napoleon reportedly faced were probably experienced by many officers at that time; see 'Erreurs', tome i. p. 32. This period is detailed in Iung, tome ii. p. 476, and tome iii. pp. 1-93.]—







      Deeply mortified at this unexpected stroke, Bonaparte retired into private
      life, and found himself doomed to an inactivity very uncongenial with his
      ardent character. He lodged in the Rue du Mail, in an hotel near the Place
      des Victoires, and we recommenced the sort of life we had led in 1792,
      before his departure for Corsica. It was not without a struggle that he
      determined to await patiently the removal of the prejudices which were
      cherished against him by men in power; and he hoped that, in the perpetual
      changes which were taking place, those men might be superseded by others
      more favourable to him. He frequently dined and spent the evening with me
      and my elder brother; and his pleasant conversation and manners made the
      hours pass away very agreeably. I called on him almost every morning, and
      I met at his lodgings several persons who were distinguished at the time;
      among others Salicetti, with whom he used to maintain very animated
      conversations, and who would often solicit a private interview with him.
      On one occasion Salicetti paid him three thousand francs, in assignats, as
      the price of his carriage, which his straitened circumstances obliged him
      to dispose of.
    
Deeply embarrassed by this unexpected turn of events, Bonaparte withdrew from public life and found himself stuck in a situation that didn't suit his passionate nature. He stayed on Rue du Mail, in a hotel near Place des Victoires, and we resumed the kind of life we had back in 1792, before he left for Corsica. It wasn’t easy for him to decide to wait patiently for the removal of the biases held against him by those in power; he hoped that, with the constant changes happening, those men might be replaced by others who were more supportive of him. He often had dinner and spent evenings with me and my older brother, and his enjoyable conversation and demeanor made the time fly by. I visited him almost every morning, and I encountered several notable people at his place; among them was Salicetti, with whom he would have very lively discussions and who would frequently ask for private meetings. Once, Salicetti paid him three thousand francs in assignats for his carriage, which he had to sell due to his financial difficulties.






 —[Of Napoleon's poverty at this time Madame Junot says, "On
   Bonaparte's return to Paris, after the misfortunes of which he
   accused Salicetti of being the cause, he was in very destitute
   circumstances. His family, who were banished from Corsica, found an
   asylum at Marseilles; and they could not now do for him what they
   would have done had they been in the country whence they derived
   their pecuniary resources. From time to time he received
   remittances of money, and I suspect they came from his excellent
   brother Joseph, who had then recently married 'Mademoiselle Clary;
   but with all his economy these supplies were insufficient.
   Bonaparte was therefore in absolute distress. Junot often used to
   speak of the six months they passed together in Paris at this time.
   When they took an evening stroll on the Boulevard, which used to be
   the resort of young men, mounted on fine horses, and displaying all
   the luxury which they were permitted to show at that time, Bonaparte
   would declaim against fate, and express his contempt for the dandies
   with their whiskers and their 'orielles de chiene', who, as they
   rode Past, were eulogising in ecstasy the manner in which Madame
   Scio sang. And it is on such beings as these,' he would say, 'that
   Fortune confers her favours. Grand Dieu! how contemptible is human
   nature!'" (Memoirs of the Duchesse d'Abrantes, vol. i. p. 80,
   edit. 1883.)]— 
 —[Madame Junot describes Napoleon's struggles during this time, saying, "When Bonaparte returned to Paris after the misfortunes he blamed on Salicetti, he was in very dire financial straits. His family, who had been exiled from Corsica, found refuge in Marseilles; they couldn't help him as they would have been able to if they were in Corsica, where they had financial resources. Occasionally, he received money transfers, which I suspect came from his supportive brother Joseph, who had recently married Mademoiselle Clary; but despite all his frugality, this money was not enough. Bonaparte was therefore in total distress. Junot often talked about the six months they spent together in Paris during this period. When they strolled in the evening on the Boulevard, a popular spot for young men showing off on their fine horses and flaunting all the luxuries they could, Bonaparte would rant about fate and express his disdain for the dapper young men with their fancy facial hair and "dog ears," who would ride by enthusiastically praising Madame Scio's singing. 'And it is on such people as these,' he would say, 'that Fortune bestows her favors. Good God! how despicable human nature is!'" (Memoirs of the Duchesse d'Abrantes, vol. i. p. 80, edit. 1883.)]—







      I could, easily perceive that our young friend either was or wished to be
      initiated in some political intrigue; and I moreover suspected that
      Salicetti had bound him by an oath not to disclose the plans that were
      hatching.
    
I could easily see that our young friend was either involved in or wanted to be part of some political scheme; and I also suspected that Salicetti had made him swear not to reveal the plans that were being developed.







      He became pensive, melancholy, and anxious; and he always looked with
      impatience for Salicetti's daily visit.
    
He became thoughtful, sad, and anxious; and he always waited impatiently for Salicetti's daily visit.






 —[Salicetti was implicated in the insurrection of the 20th May
   1795, 1st Prairial, Year III., and was obliged to fly to Venice.]— 
 —[Salicetti was involved in the uprising of May 20, 1795, 1st Prairial, Year III., and had to escape to Venice.]—







      Sometimes, withdrawing his mind from political affairs, he would envy the
      happiness of his brother Joseph, who had just then married Mademoiselle
      Clary, the daughter of a rich and respectable merchant of Marseilles. He
      would often say, "That Joseph is a lucky rogue."
    
Sometimes, taking a break from political matters, he would envy the happiness of his brother Joseph, who had just married Mademoiselle Clary, the daughter of a wealthy and well-respected merchant from Marseilles. He would often say, "That Joseph is one lucky guy."







      Meanwhile time passed away, and none of his projects succeeded—none
      of his applications were listened to. He was vexed by the injustice with
      which he was treated, and tormented by the desire of entering upon some
      active pursuit. He could not endure the thought of remaining buried in the
      crowd. He determined to quit France; and the favourite idea, which he
      never afterwards relinquished, that the East is a fine field for glory,
      inspired him with the wish to proceed to Constantinople, and to enter the
      service of the Grand Seignior. What romantic plans, what stupendous
      projects he conceived! He asked me whether I would go with him? I replied
      in the negative. I looked upon him as a half-crazy young fellow, who was
      driven to extravagant enterprises and desperate resolutions by his
      restless activity of mind, joined to the irritating treatment he had
      experienced, and, perhaps, it may be added, his want of money. He did not
      blame me for my refusal to accompany him; and he told me that Junot,
      Marmont, and some other young officers whom he had known at Toulon, would
      be willing to follow his fortunes.
    
Meanwhile, time passed, and none of his plans succeeded—none of his requests were heard. He was frustrated by the unfairness of his situation and tortured by the urge to start some active pursuit. He couldn’t stand the thought of being lost in the crowd. He decided to leave France; the favorite idea that he never abandoned was that the East was a great place for glory, which motivated him to go to Constantinople and join the service of the Grand Seignior. What romantic plans, what incredible projects he imagined! He asked me if I would go with him. I said no. I thought of him as a somewhat crazy young man, driven to outrageous ventures and desperate decisions by his restless mind, the irritating treatment he had faced, and, perhaps, his lack of money. He didn’t hold my refusal against me and told me that Junot, Marmont, and some other young officers he had known in Toulon were willing to follow him on his journey.







      He drew up a note which commenced with the words 'Note for . . .' It was
      addressed to no one, and was merely a plan. Some days after he wrote out
      another, which, however, did not differ very materially from the first,
      and which he addressed to Aubert and Coni. I made him a fair copy of it,
      and it was regularly for forwarded. It was as follows:—
    
He wrote a note that started with the words 'Note for . . .' It wasn't addressed to anyone and was just a plan. A few days later, he wrote another note, but it didn't differ much from the first one, and he addressed it to Aubert and Coni. I made a clean copy of it, and it was sent out as usual. It was as follows:—






                 NOTE.

Note.







      At a moment when the Empress of Russia has strengthened her union with the
      Emperor of Germany (Austria), it is the interest of France to do
      everything in her power to increase the military power of Turkey.
    
At a time when the Empress of Russia has reinforced her alliance with the Emperor of Germany (Austria), it is in France's best interest to do everything possible to boost Turkey's military strength.







      That power possesses a numerous and brave militia but is very backward in
      the scientific part of the art of war.
    
That power has a large and courageous militia, but is quite behind in the scientific aspects of military strategy.







      The organization and the service of the artillery, which, in our modern
      tactics, so powerfully facilitate the gaining of battles, and on which,
      almost exclusively, depend the attack and defence of fortresses, are
      especially the points in which France excels, and in which the Turks are
      most deficient.
    
The organization and operation of artillery, which in our modern tactics greatly help in winning battles, and on which the attack and defense of fortresses largely rely, are areas where France really excels, and where the Turks are significantly lacking.







      They have several times applied to us for artillery officers, and we have
      sent them some; but the officers thus sent have not been sufficiently
      powerful, either in numbers or talent, to produce any important result.
    
They have requested artillery officers from us several times, and we've sent them some; however, the officers we've sent haven't been strong enough, either in numbers or ability, to achieve any significant results.







      General Bonaparte, who, from his youth, has served in the artillery, of
      which he was entrusted with the command at the siege of Toulon, and in the
      two campaigns of Italy, offers his services to proceed to Turkey, with a
      mission from the (French) Government.
    
General Bonaparte, who has served in the artillery since his youth and was given command during the siege of Toulon and in the two campaigns in Italy, is offering his services to go to Turkey on a mission from the French Government.







      He proposes to take along with him six or seven officers, of different
      kinds, and who may be, altogether, perfect masters of the military art.
    
He suggests bringing six or seven officers of various types who can all be experts in military tactics.







      He will have the satisfaction of being useful to his country in this new
      career, if he succeed in rendering the Turkish power more formidable, by
      completing the defence of their principal fortresses, and constructing new
      ones.
    
He will feel fulfilled by being able to contribute to his country in this new career if he successfully strengthens Turkish power by completing the defense of their main fortresses and building new ones.







      This note shows the error of the often-repeated assertion, that he
      proposed entering the service of the Turks against Austria. He makes no
      mention of such a thing; and the two countries were not at war.
    
This note highlights the mistake in the frequently claimed statement that he suggested joining the Turks against Austria. He doesn’t mention anything like that, and the two countries weren’t at war.






 —[The Scottish biographer makes Bonaparte say that it would be
   strange if a little Corsican should become King of Jerusalem. I
   never heard anything drop from him which supports the probability of
   such a remark, and certainly there is nothing in his note to warrant
   the inference of his having made it.—Bourrienne.]— 
—[The Scottish biographer claims Bonaparte said it would be weird for a little Corsican to become King of Jerusalem. I’ve never heard him say anything that would support the likelihood of such a statement, and there is definitely nothing in his notes to justify the conclusion that he made it.—Bourrienne.]—







      No answer was returned to this note. Turkey remained unaided, and
      Bonaparte unoccupied. I must confess that for the failure of this project,
      at least I was not sorry. I should have regretted to see a young man of
      great promise, and one for whom I cherished a sincere friendship, devote
      himself to so uncertain a fate. Napoleon has less than any man provoked
      the events which have favoured him; no one has more yielded to
      circumstances from which he was so skilful to derive advantages. If,
      however, a clerk of the War Office had but written on the note, "Granted,"
      that little word would probably have changed the fate of Europe.
    
No answer came back to this note. Turkey was left on its own, and Bonaparte was unoccupied. I have to admit that I wasn't upset about the failure of this project. I would have regretted seeing a young man with so much potential, and someone I truly cared for, throw himself into such an uncertain future. Napoleon has done less than anyone to provoke the events that have favored him; no one has been more adaptable to the circumstances he was able to turn to his advantage. If only a clerk at the War Office had scribbled "Granted" on that note, that small word might have changed the course of Europe.







      Bonaparte remained in Paris, forming schemes for the gratification of his
      ambition, and his desire of making a figure in the world; but obstacles
      opposed all he attempted.
    
Bonaparte stayed in Paris, plotting to satisfy his ambition and his wish to make a name for himself; however, he faced obstacles in everything he tried.







      Women are better judges of character than men. Madame de Bourrienne,
      knowing the intimacy which subsisted between us, preserved some notes
      which she made upon Bonaparte, and the circumstances which struck her as
      most remarkable, during her early connection with him. My wife did not
      entertain so favourable an opinion of him as I did; the warm friendship I
      cherished for him probably blinded me to his faults. I subjoin Madame de
      Bourrienne's notes, word for word:
    
Women are better at judging character than men. Madame de Bourrienne, aware of the close relationship between us, kept some notes she made about Bonaparte and the situations that stood out to her during her early interactions with him. My wife didn’t have as positive an opinion of him as I did; my strong friendship for him likely made me overlook his flaws. Here are Madame de Bourrienne's notes, exactly as written:







      On the day after our second return from Germany, which was in May 1795, we
      met Bonaparte in the Palais Royal, near a shop kept by a man named
      Girardin. Bonaparte embraced Bourrienne as a friend whom he loved and was
      glad to see. We went that evening to the Theatre Francais. The performance
      consisted of a tragedy; and 'Le Sourd, ou l'Auberge pleine'. During the
      latter piece the audience was convulsed with laughter. The part of
      Dasnieres was represented by Batiste the younger, and it was never played
      better. The bursts of laughter were so loud and frequent that the actor
      was several times obliged to stop in the midst of his part. Bonaparte
      alone (and it struck me as being very extraordinary) was silent, and
      coldly insensible to the humour which was so irresistibly diverting to
      everyone else. I remarked at this period that his character was reserved,
      and frequently gloomy. His smile was hypocritical, and often misplaced;
      and I recollect that a few days after our return he gave us one of these
      specimens of savage hilarity which I greatly disliked, and which
      prepossessed me against him. He was telling us that, being before Toulon,
      where he commanded the artillery, one of his officers was visited by his
      wife, to whom he had been but a short time married, and whom he tenderly
      loved. A few days after, orders were given for another attack upon the
      town, in which this officer was to be engaged. His wife came to General
      Bonaparte, and with tears entreated him to dispense with her husband's
      services that day. The General was inexorable, as he himself told us, with
      a sort of savage exaltation. The moment for the attack arrived, and the
      officer, though a very brave man, as Bonaparte himself-assured us, felt a
      presentiment of his approaching death. He turned pale and trembled. He was
      stationed beside the General, and during an interval when the firing from
      the town was very heavy, Bonaparte called out to him, "Take care, there is
      a shell coming!" The officer, instead of moving to one side, stooped down,
      and was literally severed in two. Bonaparte laughed loudly while he
      described the event with horrible minuteness. At this time we saw him
      almost every day. He frequently came to dine with us. As there was a
      scarcity of bread, and sometimes only two ounces per head daily were
      distributed in the section, it was customary to request one's guests to
      bring their own bread, as it could not be procured for money. Bonaparte
      and his brother Louis (a mild, agreeable young man, who was the General's
      aide de army) used to bring with them their ration bread, which was black,
      and mixed with bran. I was sorry to observe that all this bad bread fell
      to the share of the poor aide de camp, for we provided the General with a
      finer kind, which was made clandestinely by a pastrycook, from flour which
      we contrived to smuggle from Sens, where my husband had some farms. Had we
      been denounced, the affair might have cost us our heads.
    
The day after our second return from Germany in May 1795, we met Bonaparte at the Palais Royal, near a shop owned by a man named Girardin. Bonaparte warmly embraced Bourrienne, clearly happy to see his friend. That evening, we went to the Theatre Francais. The performance included a tragedy and 'Le Sourd, ou l'Auberge pleine'. During the latter, the audience erupted in laughter. The role of Dasnieres was played by Batiste the younger, who delivered an outstanding performance. The laughter was so loud and frequent that the actor had to stop several times. Bonaparte, however, remained silent and seemed cold, completely unaffected by the humor that amused everyone else. I noticed at that time that he had a reserved and often gloomy demeanor. His smile felt insincere and poorly timed. I remember a few days after our return, he displayed a disturbing kind of harsh hilarity that I found very off-putting, making me wary of him. He recounted a story about when he was commanding artillery before Toulon, and one of his officers—newly married and deeply in love—had his wife visit him. A few days later, orders came for another attack on the town, in which this officer would participate. His wife came to General Bonaparte, pleading with tears for him to excuse her husband from duty that day. The General, as he later told us with a twisted sense of pride, was unyielding. When the time for the attack arrived, the officer, despite being very brave—according to Bonaparte—sensed his impending death. He turned pale and trembled. Stationed next to the General, during a heavy barrage from the town, Bonaparte shouted, "Watch out, there's a shell coming!" Instead of dodging, the officer bent down and was killed instantly. Bonaparte laughed loudly as he recounted the details of that terrible moment. We saw him almost every day, and he often came to dine with us. Due to bread shortages, with only about two ounces per person distributed daily in our area, it became common to ask guests to bring their own bread since it couldn't be bought. Bonaparte and his brother Louis, a gentle and pleasant young man who was Bonaparte's aide-de-camp, would bring their ration of black, bran-mixed bread. I felt bad that all this poor-quality bread was given to the aide-de-camp while we provided the General with better bread, which we secretly obtained from a pastry chef using flour we smuggled from Sens, where my husband owned some farms. If we had been caught, it could have cost us our lives.







      We spent six weeks in Paris, and we went frequently with Bonaparte to the
      theatres, and to the fine concerts given by Garat in the Rue St. Marc.
      These were the first brilliant entertainments that took place after the
      death of Robespierre. There was always something original in Bonaparte's
      behaviour, for he often slipped away from us without saying a word; and
      when we were supposing he had left the theatre, we would suddenly discover
      him in the second or third tier, sitting alone in a box, and looking
      rather sulky.
    
We spent six weeks in Paris, frequently going with Bonaparte to theaters and to the great concerts held by Garat on Rue St. Marc. These were the first lively events that happened after Robespierre's death. There was always something unique about Bonaparte's behavior, as he often slipped away from us without a word; just when we thought he had left the theater, we would suddenly spot him in the second or third tier, sitting alone in a box and looking a bit moody.







      Before our departure for Sens, where my husband's family reside, and which
      was fixed upon for the place of my first accouchement, we looked out for
      more agreeable apartments than we had in the Rue Grenier St. Lazare, which
      we only had temporarily. Bonaparte used to assist us in our researches. At
      last we took the first floor of a handsome new house, No. 19 Rue des
      Marais. Bonaparte, who wished to stop in Paris, went to look at a house
      opposite to ours. He had thoughts of taking it for himself, his uncle
      Fesch (afterwards Cardinal Fesch), and a gentleman named Patrauld,
      formerly one of his masters at the Military School. One day he said, "With
      that house over there, my friends in it, and a cabriolet, I shall be the
      happiest fellow in the world."
    
Before we left for Sens, where my husband's family lives and where I was set to have my first baby, we searched for nicer apartments than the temporary one we had on Rue Grenier St. Lazare. Bonaparte helped us in our search. Eventually, we chose the first floor of a beautiful new house at No. 19 Rue des Marais. Bonaparte, who wanted to stay in Paris, went to check out a house across from ours. He was considering renting it for himself, his uncle Fesch (who later became Cardinal Fesch), and a man named Patrauld, who used to be one of his teachers at the Military School. One day he said, "With that house over there, my friends in it, and a cabriolet, I'll be the happiest guy in the world."







      We soon after left town for Sens. The house was not taken by him, for
      other and great affairs were preparing. During the interval between our
      departure and the fatal day of Vendemiaire several letters passed between
      him and his school companion. These letters were of the most amiable and
      affectionate description. They have been stolen. On our return, in
      November of the same year, everything was changed. The college friend was
      now a great personage. He had got the command of Paris in return for his
      share in the events of Vendemiaire. Instead of a small house in the Rue
      des Marais, he occupied a splendid hotel in the Rue des Capucines; the
      modest cabriolet was converted into a superb equipage, and the man himself
      was no longer the same. But the friends of his youth were still received
      when they made their morning calls. They were invited to grand dejeuners,
      which were sometimes attended by ladies; and, among others, by the
      beautiful Madame Tallien and her friend the amiable Madame de Beauharnais,
      to whom Bonaparte had begun to pay attention. He cared little for his
      friends, and ceased to address them in the style of familiar equality.
    
We soon left town for Sens. He didn't take the house because other significant matters were in the works. During the time between our departure and the critical day of Vendemiaire, several letters were exchanged between him and his school friend. These letters were very friendly and affectionate. They've been stolen. When we returned in November of the same year, everything had changed. The college friend was now a big deal. He had been given command of Paris in exchange for his involvement in the events of Vendemiaire. Instead of a small house on Rue des Marais, he was now in a magnificent hotel on Rue des Capucines; the modest carriage had turned into a lavish one, and the man himself was no longer the same. But his childhood friends were still welcomed when they came to visit in the mornings. They were invited to grand breakfasts, sometimes attended by ladies, including the beautiful Madame Tallien and her friend, the charming Madame de Beauharnais, whom Bonaparte had started to notice. He didn’t pay much attention to his friends anymore and stopped addressing them as equals.







      After the 13th of Vendemiaire M. de Bourrienne saw Bonaparte only at
      distant periods. In the month of February 1796 my husband was arrested, at
      seven in the morning, by a party of men, armed with muskets, on the charge
      of being a returned emigrant. He was torn from his wife and his child,
      only six months old, being barely allowed time to dress himself. I
      followed him. They conveyed him to the guard-house of the Section, and
      thence I know not whither; and, finally, in the evening, they placed him
      in the lockup-house of the prefecture of police, which, I believe, is now
      called the central bureau. There he passed two nights and a day, among men
      of the lowest description, some of whom were even malefactors. I and his
      friends ran about everywhere, trying to find somebody to rescue him, and,
      among the rest, Bonaparte was applied to. It was with great difficulty he
      could be seen. Accompanied by one of my husband's friends, I waited for
      the commandant of Paris until midnight, but he did not come home. Next
      morning I returned at an early hour, and found him. I stated what had
      happened to my husband, whose life was then at stake. He appeared to feel
      very little for the situation of his friend, but, however; determined to
      write to Merlin, the Minister of Justice. I carried the letter according
      to its address, and met the Minister as he was coming downstairs, on his
      way to the Directory. Being in grand costume, he wore a Henri IV. hat,
      surmounted with a multitude of plumes, a dress which formed a singular
      contrast with his person. He opened the letter; and whether it was that he
      cared as little for the General as for the cause of M. de Bourrienne's
      arrest, he replied that the matter was no longer in his hands, and that it
      was now under the cognisance of the public administrators of the laws. The
      Minister then stepped into his carriage, and the writer was conducted to
      several offices in his hotel. She passed through them with a broken heart,
      for she met with none but harsh men, who told her that the prisoner
      deserved death. From them she learned that on the following day he would
      be brought before the judge of the peace for his Section, who would decide
      whether there was ground for putting him on his trial. In fact, this
      proceeding took place next day. He was conveyed to the house of the judge
      of the peace for the Section of Bondy, Rue Grange-sue-Belles, whose name
      was Lemaire. His countenance was mild; and though his manner was cold, he
      had none of the harshness and ferocity common to the Government agents of
      that time. His examination of the charge was long, and he several times
      shook his head. The moment of decision had arrived, and everything seemed
      to indicate that the termination would be to place the prisoner under
      accusation. At seven o'clock be desired me to be called. I hastened to
      him, and beheld a most heart rending scene. Bourrienne was suffering under
      a hemorrhage, which had continued since two o'clock, and had interrupted
      the examination. The judge of the peace, who looked sad, sat with his head
      resting on his hand. I threw myself at his feet and implored his clemency.
      The wife and the two daughters of the judge visited this scene of sorrow,
      and assisted me in softening him. He was a worthy and feeling man, a good
      husband and parent, and it was evident that he struggled between
      compassion and duty. He kept referring to the laws on the subject, and,
      after long researches said to me, "To-morrow is Decadi, and no proceedings
      can take place on that day. Find, madams, two responsible persons, who
      will answer for the appearance of your husband, and I will permit him to
      go home with you, accompanied by the two guardians." Next day two friends
      were found, one of whom was M. Desmaisons, counsellor of the court, who
      became bail for M. de Bourrienne. He continued under these guardians six
      months, until a law compelled the persons who were inscribed on the fatal
      list to remove to the distance of ten leagues from Paris. One of the
      guardians was a man of straw; the other was a knight of St. Louis. The
      former was left in the antechamber; the latter made, every evening, one of
      our party at cards. The family of M. de Bourrienne have always felt the
      warmest gratitude to the judge of the peace and his family. That worthy
      man saved the life of M. de Bourrienne, who, when he returned from Egypt,
      and had it in his power to do him some service, hastened to his house; but
      the good judge was no more!
    
After the 13th of Vendemiaire, Mr. de Bourrienne only saw Bonaparte occasionally. In February 1796, my husband was arrested at seven in the morning by a group of armed men on the suspicion of being a returned emigrant. He was taken away from his wife and their six-month-old child, barely given time to get dressed. I followed him. They took him to the guardhouse of the Section, and from there I don’t know where; eventually, in the evening, they put him in the police prefecture's lockup, which I think is now called the central bureau. He spent two nights and a day there, among men of the lowest character, some of whom were criminals. His friends and I searched everywhere to find someone to help him, and among others, Bonaparte was contacted. It was very difficult to see him. Accompanied by one of my husband's friends, I waited for the commandant of Paris until midnight, but he didn’t come home. The next morning, I returned early and found him. I explained what had happened to my husband, whose life was at risk. He seemed to care little for his friend’s situation, but nonetheless decided to write to Merlin, the Minister of Justice. I took the letter as addressed and ran into the Minister as he was coming downstairs on his way to the Directory. Dressed in his full attire, he wore a Henri IV hat topped with many plumes, which made an odd contrast with his figure. He opened the letter, and whether he cared little for the General or for the reason behind Mr. de Bourrienne's arrest, he replied that it was no longer in his hands and was now up to the public administrators of the law. The Minister then got into his carriage, and I was taken to several offices in his hotel. I walked through them with a heavy heart, as I encountered only harsh men who told me that the prisoner deserved death. From them, I learned that the next day he would be brought before the peace judge for his Section, who would decide if there was enough reason to put him on trial. Indeed, this happened the next day. He was taken to the peace judge's office for the Section of Bondy, Rue Grange-sue-Belles, whose name was Lemaire. He had a gentle face, and although his manner was cold, he lacked the harshness and cruelty typical of the government agents at the time. His questioning regarding the charges was lengthy, and he shook his head several times. The moment of decision arrived, and everything indicated that he would be putting the prisoner under accusation. At seven o'clock, he asked for me to be called. I rushed to him and saw a heart-wrenching scene. Bourrienne was suffering from a hemorrhage that had started at two o'clock and interrupted the questioning. The judge, looking sad, sat with his head resting on his hand. I fell to his feet and begged for his mercy. The judge’s wife and two daughters witnessed this scene of sorrow and helped me plead with him. He was a caring and decent man, a good husband and father, and it was clear that he was torn between compassion and duty. He kept referring to the laws on the matter, and after much deliberation, he said to me, “Tomorrow is Decadi, and no proceedings can happen that day. Find two reliable persons who will vouch for your husband, and I’ll let him go home with you, accompanied by the two guardians.” The next day, two friends were found, one of whom was Mr. Desmaisons, a court counselor, who became bail for Mr. de Bourrienne. He remained under the guardianship of these men for six months, until a law forced those listed on the fatal roster to move ten leagues away from Paris. One guardian was a man of no substance; the other was a knight of St. Louis. The former stayed in the antechamber; the latter joined us for cards every evening. The family of Mr. de Bourrienne has always felt deep gratitude to the peace judge and his family. That worthy man saved Mr. de Bourrienne’s life, who, upon returning from Egypt and able to repay the favor, hurried to his house; but the good judge was no longer there!







      The letters mentioned in the narrative were at this time stolen from me by
      the police officers.
    
The letters referred to in the story were at that time taken from me by the police.







      Everyone was now eager to pay court to a man who had risen from the crowd
      in consequence of the part he had acted at an extraordinary crisis, and
      who was spoken of as the future General of the Army of Italy. It was
      expected that he would be gratified, as he really was, by the restoration
      of some letters which contained the expression of his former very modest
      wishes, called to recollection his unpleasant situation, his limited
      ambition, his pretended aversion for public employment, and finally
      exhibited his intimate relations with those who were, without hesitation,
      characterised as emigrants, to be afterwards made the victims of
      confiscation and death.
    
Everyone was now eager to impress a man who had stood out from the crowd because of his role during a critical moment, and who was being talked about as the future General of the Army of Italy. It was expected that he would be pleased, and he genuinely was, by the return of some letters that expressed his previously modest wishes, reminding him of his uncomfortable situation, his limited ambitions, his supposed dislike for public office, and ultimately revealing his close connections with those who were openly labeled as emigrants, who would later become victims of confiscation and death.







      The 13th of Vendemiaire (5th October 1795) was approaching. The National
      Convention had been painfully delivered of a new constitution, called,
      from the epoch of its birth, "the Constitution of Year III." It was
      adopted on the 22d of August 1795. The provident legislators did not
      forget themselves. They stipulated that two-thirds of their body should
      form part of the new legislature. The party opposed to the Convention
      hoped, on the contrary, that, by a general election, a majority would be
      obtained for its opinion. That opinion was against the continuation of
      power in the hands of men who had already so greatly abused it.
    
The 13th of Vendemiaire (October 5, 1795) was coming up. The National Convention had just finished creating a new constitution, called "the Constitution of Year III," named for the time it came into being. It was approved on August 22, 1795. The careful lawmakers made sure to include a provision that two-thirds of their members would be part of the new legislature. Meanwhile, the faction opposing the Convention hoped that a general election would give them a majority that supported their views. Those views were against letting the same people continue to hold power, especially since they had already misused it so much.







      The same opinion was also entertained by a great part of the most
      influential Sections of Paris, both as to the possession of property and
      talent. These Sections declared that, in accepting the new constitution,
      they rejected the decree of the 30th of August, which required the
      re-election of two-thirds The Convention, therefore, found itself menaced
      in what it held most dear—its power;—and accordingly resorted
      to measures of defence. A declaration was put forth, stating that the
      Convention, if attacked, would remove to Chalons-sur-Marne; and the
      commanders of the armed force were called upon to defend that body.
    
Many influential districts in Paris shared this opinion regarding property and talent. These districts declared that by accepting the new constitution, they were rejecting the decree from August 30, which mandated the re-election of two-thirds of the Convention. Consequently, the Convention felt threatened in what it valued most—its power—and thus took defensive measures. A statement was issued declaring that if the Convention were attacked, it would move to Chalons-sur-Marne, and commanders of the armed forces were urged to protect that body.







      The 5th of October, the day on which the Sections of Paris attacked the
      Convention, is certainly one which ought to be marked in the wonderful
      destiny of Bonaparte.
    
The 5th of October, the day when the Sections of Paris attacked the Convention, is definitely one that should be highlighted in the remarkable journey of Bonaparte.







      With the events of that day were linked, as cause and effect, many great
      political convulsions of Europe. The blood which flowed ripened the seeds
      of the youthful General's ambition. It must be admitted that the history
      of past ages presents few periods full of such extraordinary events as the
      years included between 1795 and 1815. The man whose name serves, in some
      measure, as a recapitulation of all these great events was entitled to
      believe himself immortal.
    
The events of that day were connected, like cause and effect, to many major political upheavals in Europe. The blood that was shed fueled the young General’s ambition. It’s true that few periods in history are as filled with extraordinary events as the years between 1795 and 1815. The man whose name embodies many of these significant events had every reason to think of himself as immortal.







      Living retired at Sens since the month of July, I only learned what had
      occasioned the insurrection of the Sections from public report and the
      journals. I cannot, therefore, say what part Bonaparte may have taken in
      the intrigues which preceded that day. He was officially characterised
      only as secondary actor in the scene. The account of the affair which was
      published announces that Barras was, on that very day, Commander-in-chief
      of the Army of the Interior, and Bonaparte second in command. Bonaparte
      drew up that account. The whole of the manuscript was in his handwriting,
      and it exhibits all the peculiarity of his style and orthography. He sent
      me a copy.
    
Living in retirement in Sens since July, I only found out about what led to the insurrection of the Sections through the news and public reports. So, I can't say what role Bonaparte may have played in the events leading up to that day. He was officially described as a secondary figure in the situation. The published account of the incident states that Barras was, on that very day, the Commander-in-chief of the Army of the Interior, with Bonaparte as second in command. Bonaparte prepared that account himself. The entire manuscript was in his handwriting, showing all the characteristics of his style and spelling. He sent me a copy.







      Those who read the bulletin of the 13th Vendemiaire, cannot fail to
      observe the care which Bonaparte took to cast the reproach of shedding the
      first blood on the men he calls rebels. He made a great point of
      representing his adversaries as the aggressors. It is certain he long
      regretted that day. He often told me that he would give years of his life
      to blot it out from the page of his history. He was convinced that the
      people of Paris were dreadfully irritated against him, and he would have
      been glad if Barras had never made that Speech in the Convention, with the
      part of which, complimentary to himself, he was at the time so well
      pleased. Barras said, "It is to his able and prompt dispositions that we
      are indebted for the defence of this assembly, around which he had posted
      the troops with so much skill." This is perfectly true, but it is not
      always agreeable that every truth should be told. Being out of Paris, and
      a total stranger to this affair, I know not how far he was indebted for
      his success to chance, or to his own exertions, in the part assigned to
      him by the miserable Government which then oppressed France. He
      represented himself only as secondary actor in this sanguinary scene in
      which Barras made him his associate. He sent to me, as already mentioned,
      an account of the transaction, written entirely in his own hand, and
      distinguished by all the peculiarities of his style and orthography.
    
Those who read the bulletin from the 13th Vendemiaire can't help but notice how much effort Bonaparte put into placing the blame for the first bloodshed on the men he refers to as rebels. He emphasized portraying his opponents as the aggressors. It's clear he regretted that day for a long time. He often told me he would give years of his life to erase it from his history. He was convinced that the people of Paris were extremely angry with him, and he would have preferred if Barras had never delivered that speech in the Convention, which at the time he was quite pleased with because it complimented him. Barras said, "We owe our defense of this assembly to his capable and timely actions, for he had positioned the troops around it with great skill." This is absolutely true, but not every truth is always pleasant to share. Being outside of Paris and completely unfamiliar with this event, I don't know how much of his success was due to luck or his own efforts in the role given to him by the pathetic Government that was oppressing France at the time. He portrayed himself only as a minor player in this bloody scene where Barras made him a partner. He sent me an account of the event, written entirely in his own handwriting, showcasing all the unique features of his style and spelling.






 —[Joseph Bonaparte, in a note on this peerage, insinuates that the
   account of the 13th Vendemiaire was never sent to Sens, but was
   abstracted by Bourrienne, with other documents, from Napoleon's
   Cabinet (Erreurs, tome i. p. 239).]— 
—[Joseph Bonaparte, in a note about this title, suggests that the account of the 13th Vendemiaire was never sent to Sens, but was taken by Bourrienne, along with other documents, from Napoleon's Cabinet (Erreurs, tome i. p. 239).]—







      "On the 13th," says Bonaparte, "at five o'clock in the morning, the
      representative of the people, Barras, was appointed Commander-in-chief of
      the Army of the Interior, and General Bonaparte was nominated second in
      command.
    
"On the 13th," Bonaparte says, "at five o'clock in the morning, the representative of the people, Barras, was appointed Commander-in-chief of the Army of the Interior, and General Bonaparte was nominated as second in command."







      "The artillery for service on the frontier was still at the camp of
      Sablons, guarded solely by 150 men; the remainder was at Marly with 200
      men. The depot of Meudon was left unprotected. There were at the Feuillans
      only a few four-pounders without artillerymen, and but 80,000 cartridges.
      The victualling depots were dispersed throughout Paris. In many Sections
      the drums beat to arms; the Section of the Theatre Francais had advanced
      posts even as far as the Pont Neuf, which it had barricaded.
    
The artillery for use on the frontier was still at the Sablons camp, guarded only by 150 men; the rest was at Marly with 200 men. The Meudon depot was left unprotected. At the Feuillans, there were only a few four-pounders without artillerymen, and just 80,000 cartridges. The supply depots were spread out across Paris. In many sections, the drums were beating to arms; the Theatre Francais section had even set up advance posts as far as the Pont Neuf, which it had barricaded.







      "General Barras ordered the artillery to move immediately from the camp of
      Sablons to the Tuileries, and selected the artillerymen from the
      battalions of the 89th regiment, and from the gendarmerie, and placed them
      at the Palace; sent to Meudon 200 men of the police legion whom he brought
      from Versailles, 50 cavalry, and two companies of veterans; he ordered the
      property which was at Marly to be conveyed to Meudon; caused cartridges to
      be brought there, and established a workshop at that place for the
      manufacture of more. He secured means for the subsistence of the army and
      of the Convention for many days, independently of the depots which were in
      the Sections.
    
General Barras ordered the artillery to move right away from the Sablons camp to the Tuileries. He chose artillerymen from the 89th regiment battalions and the gendarmerie, placing them at the Palace. He sent 200 men from the police legion, whom he brought from Versailles, to Meudon, along with 50 cavalry and two companies of veterans. He instructed that the property at Marly be moved to Meudon, arranged for cartridges to be brought there, and set up a workshop for producing more. He ensured that there were enough supplies for the army and the Convention for several days, apart from the depots in the Sections.







      "General Verdier, who commanded at the Palais National, exhibited great
      coolness; he was required not to suffer a shot to be fired till the last
      extremity. In the meantime reports reached him from all quarters
      acquainting him that the Sections were assembled in arms, and had formed
      their columns. He accordingly arrayed his troops so as to defend the
      Convention, and his artillery was in readiness to repulse the rebels. His
      cannon was planted at the Feuillans to fire down the Rue Honore.
      Eight-pounders were pointed at every opening, and in the event of any
      mishap, General Verdier had cannon in reserve to fire in flank upon the
      column which should have forced a passage. He left in the Carrousel three
      howitzers (eight-pounders) to batter down the houses from which the
      Convention might be fired upon. At four o'clock the rebel columns marched
      out from every street to unite their forces. It was necessary to take
      advantage of this critical moment to attack the insurgents, even had they
      been regular troops. But the blood about to flow was French; it was
      therefore for these misguided people, already guilty of rebellion, to
      embrue their hands in the blood of their countrymen by striking the first
      blow.
    
General Verdier, who was in charge at the Palais National, stayed extremely calm; he was instructed not to allow a single shot to be fired until absolutely necessary. In the meantime, he received reports from all directions informing him that the Sections had gathered with weapons and formed their columns. As a result, he positioned his troops to protect the Convention, and his artillery was ready to push back the rebels. His cannons were set up at the Feuillans to fire down Rue Honore. Eight-pounders were aimed at every opening, and in case of any trouble, General Verdier had additional cannons in reserve to fire at the sides of any column that tried to break through. He left three howitzers (eight-pounders) in the Carrousel to take down the buildings from which the Convention might be attacked. At four o'clock, the rebel columns moved out from every street to combine their forces. It was crucial to take advantage of this tense moment to strike at the insurgents, even if they had been regular troops. But the blood that was about to be shed was French; it was therefore only right for these misled individuals, already guilty of rebellion, to stain their hands with the blood of their fellow countrymen by being the first to attack.







      "At a quarter before five o'clock the insurgents had formed. The attack
      was commenced by them on all sides. They were everywhere routed. French
      blood was spilled: the crime, as well as the disgrace, fell this day upon
      the Sections.
    
"At a quarter to five, the insurgents gathered. They launched their attack from all directions. They were defeated everywhere. French blood was spilled: the crime and the disgrace fell on the Sections today."







      "Among the dead were everywhere to be recognized emigrants, landowners,
      and nobles; the prisoners consisted for the most part of the 'chouans' of
      Charette.
    
"Among the dead were easily identifiable emigrants, landowners, and nobles; the prisoners were mostly the 'chouans' of Charette."







      "Nevertheless the Sections did not consider themselves beaten: they took
      refuge in the church of St. Roch, in the theatre of the Republic, and in
      the Palais Egalite; and everywhere they were heard furiously exciting the
      inhabitants to arms. To spare the blood which would have been shed the
      next day it was necessary that no time should be given them to rally, but
      to follow them with vigour, though without incurring fresh hazards. The
      General ordered Montchoisy, who commanded a reserve at the Place de la
      Resolution, to form a column with two twelve-pounders, to march by the
      Boulevard in order to turn the Place Vendome, to form a junction with the
      picket stationed at headquarters, and to return in the same order of
      column.
    
"Still, the Sections didn't see themselves as defeated: they sought refuge in the church of St. Roch, the Republic theater, and the Palais Egalite; and everywhere they were heard frantically riling up the locals to take up arms. To avoid the bloodshed that would have occurred the next day, it was crucial to not give them time to regroup, but to pursue them with determination, while avoiding new risks. The General instructed Montchoisy, who was in charge of a reserve at the Place de la Resolution, to form a column with two twelve-pound cannons and march along the Boulevard to outflank the Place Vendome, join up with the picket stationed at headquarters, and then return in the same column formation."







      "General Brune, with two howitzers, deployed in the streets of St. Nicaise
      and St. Honore. General Cartaux sent two hundred men and a four-pounder of
      his division by the Rue St. Thomas-du-Louvre to debouch in the square of
      the Palais Egalite. General Bonaparte, who had his horse killed under him,
      repaired to the Feuillans.
    
"General Brune, with two howitzers, set up in the streets of St. Nicaise and St. Honore. General Cartaux sent two hundred men and a four-pound cannon from his division via Rue St. Thomas-du-Louvre to emerge in the square of Palais Egalite. General Bonaparte, whose horse was shot out from under him, went to the Feuillans."







      "The columns began to move, St. Roch and the theatre of the Republic were
      taken, by assault, when the rebels abandoned them, and retreated to the
      upper part of the Rue de la Loi, and barricaded themselves on all sides.
      Patrols were sent thither, and several cannon-shots were fired during the
      night, in order to prevent them from throwing up defences, which object
      was effectually accomplished.
    
"The columns started to advance, St. Roch and the Theatre of the Republic were captured in an attack when the rebels left them and fell back to the upper part of Rue de la Loi, where they barricaded themselves on all sides. Patrols were sent there, and several cannon shots were fired during the night to stop them from building defenses, which was successfully achieved."







      "At daybreak, the General having learned that some students from the St.
      Genevieve side of the river were marching with two pieces of cannon to
      succour the rebels, sent a detachment of dragoons in pursuit of them, who
      seized the cannon and conducted them to the Tuileries. The enfeebled
      Sections, however, still showed a front. They had barricaded the Section
      of Grenelle, and placed their cannon in the principal streets. At nine
      o'clock General Beruyer hastened to form his division in battle array in
      the Place Vendome, marched with two eight-pounders to the Rue des
      Vieux-Augustins, and pointed them in the direction of the Section Le
      Pelletier. General Vachet, with a corps of 'tirailleurs', marched on his
      right, ready to advance to the Place Victoire. General Brune marched to
      the Perron, and planted two howitzers at the upper end of the Rue
      Vivienne. General Duvigier, with his column of six hundred men, and two
      twelve-pounders, advanced to the streets of St. Roch and Montmartre. The
      Sections lost courage with the apprehension of seeing their retreat cut
      off, and evacuated the post at the sight of our soldiers, forgetting the
      honour of the French name which they had to support. The Section of Brutus
      still caused some uneasiness. The wife of a representative had been
      arrested there. General Duvigier was ordered to proceed along the
      Boulevard as far as the Rue Poissonniere. General Beruyer took up a
      position at the Place Victoire, and General Bonaparte occupied the
      Pont-au-Change.
    
At dawn, the General learned that some students from the St. Genevieve side of the river were marching with two cannons to support the rebels, so he sent a squad of dragoons after them. They captured the cannons and brought them to the Tuileries. However, the weakened Sections still put up a fight. They had barricaded the Grenelle Section and placed their cannons in the main streets. At nine o'clock, General Beruyer quickly arranged his division for battle in the Place Vendome, moved with two eight-pounders to Rue des Vieux-Augustins, and aimed them towards the Section Le Pelletier. General Vachet, with a group of sharpshooters, marched on his right, ready to head towards Place Victoire. General Brune marched to the Perron and set up two howitzers at the upper end of Rue Vivienne. General Duvigier, leading his column of six hundred men and two twelve-pounders, moved towards the streets of St. Roch and Montmartre. The Sections lost their nerve, fearing they would be trapped, and retreated at the sight of our soldiers, forgetting the honor they were supposed to uphold for the French name. The Section of Brutus still caused some concern as the wife of a representative had been arrested there. General Duvigier was ordered to proceed along the Boulevard to Rue Poissonniere. General Beruyer positioned himself at Place Victoire, and General Bonaparte occupied the Pont-au-Change.







      "The Section of Brutus was surrounded, and the troops advanced upon the
      Place de Greve, where the crowd poured in from the Isle St. Louis, from
      the Theatre Francais, and from the Palace. Everywhere the patriots had
      regained their courage, while the poniards of the emigrants, armed against
      us, had disappeared. The people universally admitted their error.
    
"The Section of Brutus was enclosed, and the troops moved toward the Place de Greve, where the crowd streamed in from the Isle St. Louis, the Theatre Francais, and the Palace. Everywhere, the patriots had found their courage again, while the daggers of the emigrants, who were armed against us, had vanished. The people broadly acknowledged their mistake."







      "The next day the two Sections of Les Pelletier and the Theatre Francais
      were disarmed."
    
"The next day, the two sections of Les Pelletier and the Theatre Francais were disarmed."







      The result of this petty civil war brought Bonaparte forward; but the
      party he defeated at that period never pardoned him for the past, and that
      which he supported dreaded him in the future. Five years after he will be
      found reviving the principles which he combated on the 5th of October
      1795. On being appointed, on the motion of Barras, Lieutenant-General of
      the Army of the Interior, he established his headquarters in the Rue Neuve
      des Capucines. The statement in the 'Manuscrit de Sainte Helene', that
      after the 13th Brumaire he remained unemployed at Paris, is therefore
      obviously erroneous. So far from this, he was incessantly occupied with
      the policy of the nation, and with his own fortunes. Bonaparte was in
      constant, almost daily, communication with every one then in power, and
      knew how to profit by all he saw or heard.
    
The outcome of this small civil war brought Bonaparte into the spotlight; however, the group he defeated at that time never forgave him for his past actions, while the group he allied with feared him for the future. Five years later, he would be found reviving the principles he had fought against on October 5, 1795. After being appointed Lieutenant-General of the Army of the Interior at Barras's suggestion, he set up his headquarters on Rue Neuve des Capucines. The claim in the 'Manuscrit de Sainte Helene' that he was idle in Paris after the 13th Brumaire is clearly incorrect. On the contrary, he was constantly focused on the nation’s policies and his own ambitions. Bonaparte maintained regular, almost daily, communication with everyone in power at the time and was skilled at making the most of everything he saw or heard.







      To avoid returning to this 'Manuscrit de Sainte Helene', which at the
      period of its appearance attracted more attention than it deserved, and
      which was very generally attributed to Bonaparte, I shall here say a few
      words respecting it. I shall briefly repeat what I said in a note when my
      opinion was asked, under high authority, by a minister of Louis XVIII.
    
To avoid going back to this 'Manuscrit de Sainte Helene,' which, when it came out, got way more attention than it deserved and was widely thought to be written by Bonaparte, I’ll share a few comments about it here. I’ll briefly reiterate what I mentioned in a note when I was asked for my opinion, under high authority, by a minister of Louis XVIII.







      No reader intimately acquainted with public affairs can be deceived by the
      pretended authenticity of this pamphlet. What does it contain? Facts
      perverted and heaped together without method, and related in an obscure,
      affected, and ridiculously sententious style. Besides what appears in it,
      but which is badly placed there, it is impossible not to remark the
      omission of what should necessarily be there, were Napoleon the author. It
      is full of absurd and of insignificant gossip, of thoughts Napoleon never
      had, expressions unknown to him, and affectations far removed from his
      character. With some elevated ideas, more than one style and an equivocal
      spirit can be seen in it. Professed coincidences are put close to
      unpardonable anachronisms, and to the most absurd revelations. It contains
      neither his thoughts, his style, his actions, nor his life. Some truths
      are mimed up with an inconceivable mass of falsehoods. Some forms of
      expression used by Bonaparte are occasionally met with, but they are
      awkwardly introduced, and often with bad taste.
    
No reader who is familiar with public affairs can be fooled by the fake authenticity of this pamphlet. What does it actually contain? Facts that are twisted and thrown together without any organization, presented in a vague, pretentious, and overly dramatic style. Beyond what’s included, which is poorly organized, it’s impossible not to notice what’s missing that should definitely be there if Napoleon were the author. It’s filled with ridiculous and trivial gossip, thoughts Napoleon never had, phrases that are unfamiliar to him, and pretentiousness that doesn’t match his character. Along with some lofty ideas, it shows more than one writing style and a confusing attitude. So-called coincidences are clumped together with unforgivable historical inaccuracies and completely absurd claims. It doesn’t have his thoughts, his writing style, his actions, or his life story. Some truths are mixed in with a baffling amount of falsehoods. Occasionally, you might find some expressions used by Bonaparte, but they are awkwardly placed and often in poor taste.







      It has been reported that the pamphlet was written by M. Bertrand,
      formerly an officer of the army of the Vistula, and a relation of the
      Comte de Simeon, peer of France.
    
It has been reported that the pamphlet was written by M. Bertrand, previously an officer in the Vistula army and a relative of Comte de Simeon, a peer of France.






 —['Manuscrit de Sainte Helene d'une maniere inconnue', London.
   Murray; Bruxelles, De Mat, 20 Avril 1817. This work merits a note.
   Metternich (vol, i. pp. 312-13) says, "At the time when it appeared
   the manuscript of St. Helena made a great impression upon Europe.
   This pamphlet was generally regarded as a precursor of the memoirs
   which Napoleon was thought to be writing in his place of exile. The
   report soon spread that the work was conceived and executed by
   Madame de Stael. Madame de Stael, for her part, attributed it to
   Benjamin Constant, from whom she was at this time separated by some
   disagreement." Afterwards it came to be known that the author was
   the Marquis Lullin de Chateauvieux, a man in society, whom no one
   had suspected of being able to hold a pen: Jomini (tome i. p. 8
   note) says. "It will be remarked that in the course of this work
   [his life of Napoleon] the author has used some fifty pages of the
   pretended 'Manuscrit de Sainte Helene'. Far from wishing to commit
   a plagiarism, he considers he ought to render this homage to a
   clever and original work, several false points of view in which,
   however, he has combated. It would have been easy for him to
   rewrite these pages in other terms, but they appeared to him to be
   so well suited to the character of Napoleon that he has preferred to
   preserve them." In the will of Napoleon occurs (see end of this
   work): "I disavow the 'Manuscrit de Sainte Helene', and the other
   works under the title of Maxims, Sentences, etc., which they have
   been pleased to publish during the last six years. Such rules are
   not those which have guided my life: This manuscript must not be
   confused with the 'Memorial of Saint Helena'.]— 
 —['Manuscript of Saint Helena in an unknown manner', London.  
   Murray; Brussels, De Mat, April 20, 1817. This work deserves a note.  
   Metternich (vol. i, pp. 312-13) says, "At the time it was published,  
   the manuscript of St. Helena made a big impact on Europe.  
   This pamphlet was widely seen as a precursor to the memoirs  
   that Napoleon was believed to be writing during his exile. The  
   rumor quickly spread that the work was created by  
   Madame de Stael. Madame de Stael, in turn, credited it to  
   Benjamin Constant, with whom she was at that time estranged due  
   to some disagreement." Later, it became known that the author was  
   Marquis Lullin de Chateauvieux, a socially prominent man who no one  
   suspected could write: Jomini (vol. i, p. 8 note) states, "It should  
   be noted that in the course of this work [his life of Napoleon] the  
   author has used about fifty pages of the so-called 'Manuscript de  
   Sainte Helene'. Far from wanting to commit plagiarism, he feels he  
   should pay tribute to a clever and original work, even if he  
   counters several misleading perspectives in it. It would have been  
   easy for him to rewrite these pages in different words, but they  
   seemed so well suited to Napoleon's character that he preferred to  
   keep them." In Napoleon's will, it states (see end of this  
   work): "I disavow the 'Manuscript de Sainte Helene' and the other  
   works titled Maxims, Sentences, etc., that have been published  
   over the last six years. Such rules are not what guided my life:  
   This manuscript must not be confused with the 'Memorial of Saint Helena'.]—  








 


 




















      CHAPTER IV.
    



      1795-1797
    
1795-1797


   On my return to Paris I meet Bonaparte—His interview with Josephine
   —Bonaparte's marriage, and departure from Paris ten days after—
   Portrait and character of Josephine—Bonaparte's dislike of national
   property—Letter to Josephine—Letter of General Colli, and
   Bonaparte's reply—Bonaparte refuses to serve with Kellerman—
   Marmont's letters—Bonaparte's order to me to join the army—My
   departure from Sens for Italy—Insurrection of the Venetian States.

   When I returned to Paris, I met Bonaparte—his meeting with Josephine—Bonaparte's marriage and his departure from Paris ten days later—portrait and character of Josephine—Bonaparte's dislike for national property—letter to Josephine—letter from General Colli and Bonaparte's reply—Bonaparte refusing to serve with Kellerman—Marmont's letters—Bonaparte ordering me to join the army—my departure from Sens for Italy—insurrection of the Venetian States.







      After the 13th Vendemiaire I returned to Paris from Sens. During the short
      time I stopped there I saw Bonaparte less frequently than formerly. I had,
      however, no reason to attribute this to anything but the pressure of
      public business with which he was now occupied. When I did meet him it was
      most commonly at breakfast or dinner. One day he called my attention to a
      young lady who sat opposite to him, and asked what I thought of her. The
      way in which I answered his question appeared to give him much pleasure.
      He then talked a great deal to me about her, her family, and her amiable
      qualities; he told me that he should probably marry her, as he was
      convinced that the union would make him happy. I also gathered from his
      conversation that his marriage with the young widow would probably assist
      him in gaining the objects of his ambition. His constantly-increasing
      influence with her had already brought him into contact with the most
      influential persons of that epoch. He remained in Paris only ten days
      after his marriage, which took place on the 9th of March 1796. It was a
      union in which great harmony prevailed, notwithstanding occasional slight
      disagreements. Bonaparte never, to my knowledge, caused annoyance to his
      wife. Madame Bonaparte possessed personal graces and many good qualities.
    
After the 13th Vendemiaire, I returned to Paris from Sens. During my brief stay there, I saw Bonaparte less often than before. However, I had no reason to think this was anything other than the demands of public business he was now dealing with. When I did see him, it was usually at breakfast or dinner. One day, he pointed out a young lady sitting across from him and asked for my opinion about her. The way I answered seemed to please him a lot. He then talked at length about her, her family, and her charming qualities. He mentioned that he was likely going to marry her because he believed it would make him happy. I also gathered from our conversation that marrying the young widow would probably help him achieve his ambitions. His growing influence with her had already connected him with some of the most powerful figures of that time. He stayed in Paris only ten days after their wedding, which took place on March 9, 1796. Their marriage was generally harmonious, despite occasional minor disagreements. To my knowledge, Bonaparte never caused his wife any distress. Madame Bonaparte had personal charm and many admirable qualities.






 —["Eugène was not more than fourteen years of age when he ventured
   to introduce himself to General Bonaparte, for the purpose of
   soliciting his father's sword, of which he understood the General
   had become possessed. The countenance, air, and frank manner of
   Eugène pleased Bonaparte, and he immediately granted him the boon he
   sought. As soon as the sword was placed in the boy's hands he
   burst into tears, and kissed it. This feeling of affection for his
   father's memory, and the natural manner in which it was evinced,
   increased the interest of Bonaparte in his young visitor. Madame de
   Beauharnais, on learning the kind reception which the General had
   given her son, thought it her duty to call and thank him. Bonaparte
   was much pleased with Josephine on this first interview, and he
   returned her visit. The acquaintance thus commenced speedily led to
   their marriage."—Constant]— —[Bonaparte himself, at St. Helena, says that he first met
   Josephine at Barras' (see Iung's Bonaparte, tome iii. p. 116).]— —["Neither of his wives had ever anything to complain of from
   Napoleon's personal manners" (Metternich, vol. 1 p. 279).]— —[Madame de Rémusat, who, to paraphrase Thiers' saying on
   Bourrienne himself, is a trustworthy witness, for if she received
   benefits from Napoleon they did not weigh on her, says, "However,
   Napoleon had some affection for his first wife; and, in fact, if he
   has at any time been touched, no doubt it has been only for her and
   by her" (tome i. p. 113). "Bonaparte was young when he first knew
   Madame de Beauharnais. In the circle where he met her she had a
   great superiority by the name she bore and by the extreme elegance
   of her manners. . . . In marrying Madame de Beauharnais,
   Bonaparte believed he was allying himself to a very grand lady; thus
   this was one more conquest" (p. 114). But in speaking of
   Josephine's complaints to Napoleon of his love affairs, Madame de
   Rémusat says, "Her husband sometimes answered by violences, the
   excesses of which I do not dare to detail, until the moment when,
   his new fancy having suddenly passed, he felt his tenderness for his
   wife again renewed. Then he was touched by her sufferings, replaced
   his insults by caresses which were hardly more measured than his
   violences and, as she was gentle and untenacious, she fell back into
   her feeling of security" (p. 206).]— —[Miot de Melito, who was a follower of Joseph Bonaparte, says, "No
   woman has united so much kindness to so much natural grace, or has
   done more good with more pleasure than she did. She honoured me
   with her friendship, and the remembrance of the benevolence she has
   shown me, to the last moment of her too short existence, will never
   be effaced from my heart" (tome i. pp.101-2).]— —[Meneval, the successor of Bourrienne in his place of secretary to
   Napoleon, and who remained attached to the Emperor until the end,
   says of Josephine (tome i. p. 227), "Josephine was irresistibly
   attractive. Her beauty was not regular, but she had 'La grace, plus
   belle encore que la beaute', according to the good La Fontaine. She
   had the soft abandonment, the supple and elegant movements, and the
   graceful carelessness of the creoles.—(The reader must remember
   that the term 'Creole' does not imply any taint of black blood, but
   only that the person, of European family, has been born in the West
   Indies.)—Her temper was always the same. She was gentle and
   kind."]— 
—["Eugène was only fourteen when he approached General Bonaparte to ask for his father's sword, which he knew the General had. The look, demeanor, and straightforward nature of Eugène appealed to Bonaparte, and he quickly granted the request. Once the sword was in the boy's hands, Eugene burst into tears and kissed it. This deep affection for his father's memory, shown so naturally, increased Bonaparte's interest in his young visitor. When Madame de Beauharnais found out about the warm reception the General had given her son, she felt it was her duty to express her gratitude. Bonaparte was very impressed with Josephine during their first meeting, and he returned her visit. This initial acquaintance quickly led to their marriage."—Constant]— —[Bonaparte himself, at St. Helena, says he first met Josephine at Barras' (see Iung's Bonaparte, tome iii. p. 116).]— —["Neither of his wives ever had any complaints about Napoleon's personal behavior" (Metternich, vol. 1 p. 279).]— —[Madame de Rémusat, who, to paraphrase Thiers' remark on Bourrienne himself, is a reliable witness—because any benefits she received from Napoleon did not weigh on her—states, "However, Napoleon had some feelings for his first wife; and if he was ever touched, it was undoubtedly because of her" (tome i. p. 113). "Bonaparte was young when he first met Madame de Beauharnais. In the social circle where he encountered her, she held considerable prestige thanks to her name and the extreme elegance of her manners. . . . When marrying Madame de Beauharnais, Bonaparte thought he was uniting with a very noble lady, so this was another conquest" (p. 114). But when Josephine complained to Napoleon about his affairs, Madame de Rémusat notes, "Sometimes her husband responded with violence, the details of which I do not dare to describe, until his new interest faded and he felt his affection for his wife return. At that point, he felt touched by her suffering, replaced his insults with caresses that were hardly more controlled than his violence, and since she was gentle and not persistent, she fell back into a sense of security" (p. 206).]— —[Miot de Melito, who was a follower of Joseph Bonaparte, says, "No woman combined so much kindness with so much natural grace or did more good with such pleasure than she did. She honored me with her friendship, and I will never forget the kindness she showed me until the last moments of her too short life" (tome i. pp. 101-2).]— —[Meneval, who succeeded Bourrienne as Napoleon's secretary and remained loyal to the Emperor until the end, describes Josephine (tome i. p. 227) as "irresistibly charming. Her beauty wasn't conventional, but she had 'La grace, even more beautiful than beauty,' according to the good La Fontaine. She possessed the soft grace, smooth and elegant movements, and casual elegance typical of Creoles.—(The reader should remember that the term 'Creole' does not imply any racial issue but refers to a person of European descent born in the West Indies.)—Her temperament was always constant. She was gentle and kind."]—







      I am convinced that all who were acquainted with her must have felt bound
      to speak well of her; to few, indeed, did she ever give cause for
      complaint. In the time of her power she did not lose any of her friends,
      because she forgot none of them. Benevolence was natural to her, but she
      was not always prudent in its exercise. Hence her protection was often
      extended to persons who did not deserve it. Her taste for splendour and
      expense was excessive. This proneness to luxury became a habit which
      seemed constantly indulged without any motive. What scenes have I not
      witnessed when the moment for paying the tradesmen's bills arrived! She
      always kept back one-half of their claims, and the discovery of this
      exposed her to new reproaches. How many tears did she shed which might
      have been easily spared!
    
I’m convinced that everyone who knew her felt the need to speak highly of her; she rarely gave anyone a reason to complain. During her time in power, she didn’t lose any friends because she never forgot any of them. Kindness came naturally to her, but she wasn’t always careful about how she showed it. As a result, she often protected people who didn’t deserve it. Her love for luxury and extravagant spending was excessive. This tendency for lavishness became a habit that seemed to go on without any real reason. What scenes I witnessed when it was time to pay the bills! She always held back half of what was owed, and when that was discovered, it led to even more criticism. How many tears did she shed that could have easily been avoided!







      When fortune placed a crown on her head she told me that the event,
      extraordinary as it was, had been predicted: It is certain that she put
      faith in fortune-tellers. I often expressed to her my astonishment that
      she should cherish such a belief, and she readily laughed at her own
      credulity; but notwithstanding never abandoned it: The event had given
      importance to the prophecy; but the foresight of the prophetess, said to
      be an old regress, was not the less a matter of doubt.
    
When luck put a crown on her head, she told me that the event, as extraordinary as it was, had been predicted: She definitely believed in fortune-tellers. I often expressed my surprise that she held such a belief, and she would laugh at her own gullibility; yet she never actually let go of it: The event had made the prophecy feel significant, but the insight of the oracle, who was said to be an old recluse, remained questionable.







      Not long before the 13th of Vendemiaire, that day which opened for
      Bonaparte his immense career, he addressed a letter to me at Sens, in
      which, after some of his usually friendly expressions, he said, "Look out
      a small piece of land in your beautiful valley of the Yonne. I will
      purchase it as soon as I can scrape together the money. I wish to retire
      there; but recollect that I will have nothing to do with national
      property."
    
Not long before the 13th of Vendemiaire, the day that launched Bonaparte's incredible career, he sent me a letter in Sens. After some of his usual friendly words, he wrote, "Find a small piece of land in your lovely valley of the Yonne. I’ll buy it as soon as I can gather the funds. I want to retire there, but remember that I want nothing to do with national property."







      Bonaparte left Paris on the 21st of March 1796, while I was still with my
      guardians. He no sooner joined the French army than General Colli, then in
      command of the Piedmontese army, transmitted to him the following letter,
      which, with its answer, I think sufficiently interesting to deserve
      preservation:
    
Bonaparte left Paris on March 21, 1796, while I was still with my guardians. As soon as he joined the French army, General Colli, who was in charge of the Piedmontese army at the time, sent him the following letter, which, along with its response, I find interesting enough to be worth keeping:






   GENERAL—I suppose that you are ignorant of the arrest of one of my
   officers, named Moulin, the bearer of a flag of truce, who has been
   detained for some days past at Murseco, contrary to the laws of war,
   and notwithstanding an immediate demand for his liberation being
   made by General Count Vital. His being a French emigrant cannot
   take from him the rights of a flag of truce, and I again claim him
   in that character. The courtesy and generosity which I have always
   experienced from the generals of your nation induces me to hope that
   I shall not make this application in vain; and it is with regret
   that I mention that your chief of brigade, Barthelemy, who ordered
   the unjust arrest of my flag of truce, having yesterday by the
   chance of war fallen into my hands, that officer will be dealt with
   according to the treatment which M. Moulin may receive.

   I most sincerely wish that nothing may occur to change the noble and
   humane conduct which the two nations have hitherto been accustomed
   to observe towards each other. I have the honour, etc.,
                            (Signed) COLLI.

   CEVA. 17th April 1796.

GENERAL—I assume you are unaware of the arrest of one of my officers, named Moulin, who was carrying a flag of truce and has been held for several days at Murseco, in violation of the laws of war, despite an immediate request for his release made by General Count Vital. His status as a French emigrant does not strip him of the rights associated with a flag of truce, and I once again demand his release in that capacity. The courtesy and generosity I have always experienced from your nation's generals lead me to hope that my request will not be made in vain; it is with regret that I mention your chief of brigade, Barthelemy, who ordered the wrongful arrest of my flag of truce, has now fallen into my hands due to the fortunes of war, and that officer will be treated in accordance with how M. Moulin is treated.

I genuinely hope that nothing happens to change the noble and humane behavior that our two nations have consistently shown toward each other. I have the honor, etc.,  
                            (Signed) COLLI.

CEVA. 17th April 1796.







      Bonaparte replied as follows:
    
Bonaparte replied:






   GENERAL—An emigrant is a parricide whom no character can render
   sacred. The feelings of honour, and the respect due to the French
   people, were forgotten when M. Moulin was sent with a flag of truce.
   You know the laws of war, and I therefore do not give credit to the
   reprisals with which you threaten the chief of brigade, Barthelemy.
   If, contrary to the laws of war, you authorise such an act of
   barbarism, all the prisoners taken from you shall be immediately
   made responsible for it with the most deplorable vengeance, for I
   entertain for the officers of your nation that esteem which is due
   to brave soldiers.

   GENERAL—An emigrant is a traitor whom no reputation can redeem. The sense of honor and the respect owed to the French people were disregarded when M. Moulin was sent with a flag of truce. You know the rules of war, and so I do not take seriously the reprisals you threaten against Chief of Brigade Barthelemy. If, in violation of the laws of war, you permit such an act of cruelty, all the prisoners taken from you will be held accountable with the most severe consequences, for I have great respect for the officers of your nation, which is rightfully given to brave soldiers.







      The Executive Directory, to whom these letters were transmitted, approved
      of the arrest of M. Moulin; but ordered that he should be securely
      guarded, and not brought to trial, in consequence of the character with
      which he had been invested.
    
The Executive Directory, to whom these letters were sent, approved the arrest of M. Moulin; however, they ordered that he be kept under tight security and not brought to trial, due to the position he held.







      About the middle of the year 1796 the Directory proposed to appoint
      General Kellerman, who commanded the army of the Alps, second in command
      of the army of Italy.
    
About the middle of 1796, the Directory suggested appointing General Kellerman, who was in charge of the army of the Alps, as second in command of the army of Italy.







      On the 24th of May 1796 Bonaparte wrote to, Carnot respecting, this plan,
      which was far from being agreeable to him. He said, "Whether I shall be
      employed here or anywhere else is indifferent to me: to serve the country,
      and to merit from posterity a page in our history, is all my ambition. If
      you join Kellerman and me in command in Italy you will undo everything.
      General Kellerman has more experience than I, and knows how to make war
      better than I do; but both together, we shall make it badly. I will not
      willingly serve with a man who considers himself the first general in
      Europe."
    
On May 24, 1796, Bonaparte wrote to Carnot about this plan, which he didn’t like at all. He said, "It doesn't matter to me whether I'm stationed here or somewhere else: serving the country and earning a place in our history is all I want. If you put Kellerman and me in charge in Italy, you’ll ruin everything. General Kellerman has more experience than I do and knows how to conduct warfare better than I can; but if we work together, we won’t do well. I’m not willing to serve alongside someone who thinks he’s the top general in Europe."







      Numbers of letters from Bonaparte to his wife have been published. I
      cannot deny their authenticity, nor is it my wish to do so. I will,
      however, subjoin one which appears to me to differ a little from the rest.
      It is less remarkable for exaggerated expressions of love, and a
      singularly ambitious and affected style, than most of the correspondence
      here alluded to. Bonaparte is announcing the victory of Arcola to
      Josephine.
    
Numbers of letters from Bonaparte to his wife have been published. I can’t deny that they’re real, nor do I want to. However, I will add one that seems a bit different from the others. It’s less filled with exaggerated declarations of love and an unusually ambitious and affected style than most of the correspondence I mentioned. Bonaparte is sharing the news of the victory at Arcola with Josephine.






                       VERONA, the 29th, noon.

   At length, my adored Josephine, I live again. Death is no longer
   before me, and glory and honour are still in my breast. The enemy
   is beaten at Arcola. To-morrow we will repair the blunder of
   Vaubois, who abandoned Rivoli. In eight days Mantua will be ours,
   and then thy husband will fold thee in his arms, and give thee a
   thousand proofs of his ardent affection. I shall proceed to Milan
   as soon as I can: I am a little fatigued. I have received letters
   from Eugène and Hortense. I am delighted with the children. I will
   send you their letters as soon as I am joined by my household, which
   is now somewhat dispersed.

   We have made five thousand prisoners, and killed at least six
   thousand of the enemy. Adieu, my adorable Josephine. Think of me
   often. When you cease to love your Achilles, when your heart grows
   cool towards him, you wilt be very cruel, very unjust. But I am
   sure you will always continue my faithful mistress, as I shall ever
   remain your fond lover ('tendre amie'). Death alone can break the
   union which sympathy, love, and sentiment have formed. Let me have
   news of your health. A thousand and a thousand kisses.

                       VERONA, the 29th, noon.

   At last, my beloved Josephine, I feel alive again. Death is no longer looming over me, and I still have glory and honor in my heart. The enemy is defeated at Arcola. Tomorrow we will correct the mistake made by Vaubois, who abandoned Rivoli. In eight days Mantua will be ours, and then your husband will hold you in his arms and show you a thousand ways of his deep affection. I will head to Milan as soon as I can: I’m a bit worn out. I’ve received letters from Eugène and Hortense. I’m thrilled with the kids. I’ll send you their letters as soon as my household, which is a bit scattered right now, reunites.

   We have taken five thousand prisoners and killed at least six thousand of the enemy. Goodbye, my wonderful Josephine. Think of me often. If you ever stop loving your Achilles, and your heart starts to cool towards him, you will be very cruel and very unfair. But I’m sure you will always be my faithful partner, just as I will always be your devoted lover. Only death can sever the bond that sympathy, love, and emotion have created. Please give me updates on your health. A thousand and a thousand kisses.







      It is impossible for me to avoid occasionally placing myself in the
      foreground in the course of these Memoirs. I owe it to myself to answer,
      though indirectly, to certain charges which, on various occasions, have
      been made against me. Some of the documents which I am about to insert
      belong, perhaps, less to the history of the General-in-Chief of the army
      of-Italy than to that of his secretary; but I must confess I wish to show
      that I was not an intruder, nor yet pursuing, as an obscure intriguer, the
      path of fortune. I was influenced much more by friendship than by ambition
      when I took a part on the scene where the rising-glory of the future
      Emperor already shed a lustre on all who were attached to his destiny. It
      will be seen by the following letters with what confidence I was then
      honoured; but these letters, dictated by friendship, and not written for
      history, speak also of our military achievements; and whatever brings to
      recollection the events of that heroic period must still be interesting to
      many.
    
I can’t help but occasionally put myself in the spotlight in these Memoirs. I feel the need to respond, even if indirectly, to certain accusations that have been made against me at different times. Some of the documents I’m about to share might relate more to the history of the General-in-Chief of the army of Italy than to that of his secretary; however, I admit I want to show that I wasn’t just a bystander or an obscure schemer chasing ambition. My involvement was driven more by friendship than by ambition when I engaged in the events where the future Emperor’s rising glory already cast a light on everyone connected to his fate. The following letters will demonstrate the level of trust I received at that time; these letters, inspired by friendship and not meant for history, also recount our military successes, and anything that recalls the events of that heroic time should still be of interest to many.






                    HEADQUARTERS AT MILAN,
               20th Prairial, year IV. (8th June 1796).

   The General-in-Chief has ordered me, my dear Bourrienne, to make
   known to you the pleasure he experienced on hearing of you, and his
   ardent desire that you should join us. Take your departure, then,
   my dear Bourrienne, and arrive quickly. You may be certain of
   obtaining the testimonies of affection which are your due from all
   who know you; and we much regret that you were not with us to have a
   share in our success. The campaign which we have just concluded
   will be celebrated in the records of history. With less than 30,000
   men, in a state of almost complete destitution, it is a fine thing
   to have, in the course of less than two months, beaten, eight
   different times, an army of from 65 to 70,000 men, obliged the King
   of Sardinia to make a humiliating peace, and driven the Austrians
   from Italy. The last victory, of which you have doubtless had an
   account, the passage of the Mincio, has closed our labours. There
   now remain for us the siege of Mantua and the castle of Milan; but
   these obstacles will not detain us long. Adieu, my dear Bourrienne:
   I repeat General Bonaparte's request that you should repair hither,
   and the testimony of his desire to see you.
   Receive, etc.,                (Signed) MARMONT.
   Chief of Brigade (Artillery) and Aide de camp to the
   General-in-Chief.

                    HEADQUARTERS AT MILAN,
               20th Prairial, year IV. (8th June 1796).

   The General-in-Chief has asked me, my dear Bourrienne, to let you know how happy he was to hear about you, and his strong wish for you to join us. So, please leave quickly, my dear Bourrienne, and arrive soon. You can be sure of receiving the affection you deserve from everyone who knows you; and we really regret that you couldn't be with us to share in our success. The campaign we've just finished will be remembered in history. With fewer than 30,000 men, in nearly total destitution, it's quite remarkable to have defeated an army of 65,000 to 70,000 men eight times in less than two months, forced the King of Sardinia into a humiliating peace, and driven the Austrians out of Italy. The last victory, which you’ve probably heard about, the crossing of the Mincio, has wrapped up our efforts. We now have the siege of Mantua and the castle of Milan left; however, these challenges won't hold us up for long. Goodbye, my dear Bourrienne: I restate General Bonaparte's request for you to come here, along with his wish to see you.
   Regards,                (Signed) MARMONT.
   Chief of Brigade (Artillery) and Aide de camp to the
   General-in-Chief.







      I was obliged to remain at Sens, soliciting my erasure from the emigrant
      list, which I did not obtain, however, till 1797, and to put an end to a
      charge made against me of having fabricated a certificate of residence.
      Meanwhile I applied myself to study, and preferred repose to the agitation
      of camps. For these reasons I did not then accept his friendly invitation,
      notwithstanding that I was very desirous of seeing my young college friend
      in the midst of his astonishing triumphs. Ten months after, I received
      another letter from Marmont, in the following terms:—
    
I had to stay in Sens, asking to be removed from the emigrant list, which I didn’t get until 1797, and to resolve an accusation that I had faked a residence certificate. In the meantime, I focused on studying and preferred peace over the chaos of military camps. For these reasons, I didn’t accept his kind invitation at that time, even though I really wanted to see my young college friend amid his incredible successes. Ten months later, I received another letter from Marmont that said:—






                  HEADQUARTERS GORIZIA
             2d Germinal, year V. (22d March 1797).

   The General-in-Chief, my dear Bourrienne, has ordered me to express
   to you his wish for your prompt arrival here. We have all along
   anxiously desired to see you, and look forward with great pleasure
   to the moment when we shall meet. I join with the General, my dear
   Bourrienne, in urging you to join the army without loss of time.
   You will increase a united family, happy to receive you into its
   bosom. I enclose an order written by the General, which will serve
   you as a passport. Take the post route and arrive as soon as you
   can. We are on the point of penetrating into Germany. The language
   is changing already, and in four days we shall hear no more Italian.
   Prince Charles has been well beaten, and we are pursuing him. If
   this campaign be fortunate, we may sign a peace, which is so
   necessary for Europe, in Vienna. Adieu, my dear Bourrienne: reckon
   for something the zeal of one who is much attached to you.
                    (Signed) MARMONT.

                  HEADQUARTERS GORIZIA
             2nd Germinal, Year V. (22nd March 1797).

   The General-in-Chief, my dear Bourrienne, has asked me to convey his desire for your swift arrival here. We have all been eagerly anticipating seeing you and look forward with great excitement to the moment we finally meet. I echo the General's plea, my dear Bourrienne, for you to join the army without delay. You will add to our united family, which will be happy to welcome you. I’m including an order from the General that will serve as your pass. Take the post route and get here as soon as possible. We're about to push into Germany. The language is already changing, and in four days we won’t hear Italian anymore. Prince Charles has been defeated, and we are in hot pursuit. If this campaign goes well, we might sign a peace that is desperately needed for Europe in Vienna. Goodbye, my dear Bourrienne: consider the enthusiasm of someone who cares deeply for you.  
                    (Signed) MARMONT.






   BONAPARTE, GENERAL-IN-CHIEF OF THE ARMY OF ITALY.

     Headquarters, Gorizia, 2d Germinal, year V.

   The citizen Bourrienne is to come to me on receipt
   of the present order.
               (Signed) BONAPARTE.

   BONAPARTE, COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF OF THE ARMY OF ITALY.

     Headquarters, Gorizia, April 2nd, Year V.

   Citizen Bourrienne is to report to me upon receiving this order.
               (Signed) BONAPARTE.







      The odious manner in which I was then harassed, I know not why, on the
      part of the Government respecting my certificate of residence, rendered my
      stay in France not very agreeable. I was even threatened with being put on
      my trial for having produced a certificate of residence which was alleged
      to be signed by nine false witnesses. This time, therefore, I resolved
      without hesitation to set out for the army. General Bonaparte's order,
      which I registered at the municipality of Sens, answered for a passport,
      which otherwise would probably have been refused me. I have always felt a
      strong sense of gratitude for his conduct towards me on this occasion.
    
The horrible way I was harassed, for reasons I don’t understand, by the Government regarding my residency certificate made my time in France pretty unpleasant. I was even threatened with trial for presenting a residency certificate that was said to be signed by nine false witnesses. So, this time, I decided without a second thought to join the army. General Bonaparte's order, which I registered at the municipality of Sens, served as my passport, which I probably wouldn’t have gotten otherwise. I have always felt a deep gratitude for his actions towards me during that time.







      Notwithstanding the haste I made to leave Sens, the necessary formalities
      and precautions detained me some days, and at the moment I was about to
      depart I received the following letter:
    
Despite my rush to leave Sens, the required formalities and precautions held me up for a few days, and just as I was about to leave, I received the following letter:






                  HEADQUARTERS, JUDENBOURG,
             19th Germinal, Year V. (8th April 1797).

   The General-in-Chief again orders me, my dear Bourrienne, to urge
   you to come to him quickly. We are in the midst of success and
   triumphs. The German campaign begins even more brilliantly than did
   the Italian. You may judge, therefore, what a promise it holds out
   to us. Come, my dear Bourrienne, immediately—yield to our
   solicitations—share our pains and pleasures, and you will add to
   our enjoyments.

   I have directed the courier to pass through Sens, that he may
   deliver this letter to you, and bring me back your answer.
                  (Signed) MARMONT.

                  HEADQUARTERS, JUDENBOURG,  
             19th Germinal, Year V. (8th April 1797).  

   The General-in-Chief has asked me again, my dear Bourrienne, to urge you to join him quickly. We are experiencing success and triumphs. The German campaign is starting off even better than the Italian one did. You can imagine what a bright future this promises for us. Please come, my dear Bourrienne, right away—give in to our requests—share in our struggles and joys, and you’ll enhance our enjoyment.  

   I instructed the courier to go through Sens so he can deliver this letter to you and bring back your response.  
                  (Signed) MARMONT.







      To the above letter this order was subjoined:
    
To the letter above, this order was added:






   The citizen Fauvelet de Bourrienne is ordered to leave Sens, and
   repair immediately by post to the headquarters of the army of Italy.
                  (Signed) BONAPARTE.

   Citizen Fauvelet de Bourrienne is ordered to leave Sens and go immediately by postal service to the headquarters of the army in Italy.  
                  (Signed) BONAPARTE.







      I arrived at the Venetian territory at the moment when the insurrection
      against the French was on the point of breaking out. Thousands of peasants
      were instigated to rise under the pretext of appeasing the troubles of
      Bergamo and Brescia. I passed through Verona on the 16th of April, the eve
      of the signature of the preliminaries of Leoben and of the revolt of
      Verona. Easter Sunday was the day which the ministers of Jesus Christ
      selected for preaching "that it was lawful, and even meritorious, to kill
      Jacobins." Death to Frenchmen!—Death to Jacobins! as they called all
      the French, were their rallying cries. At the time I had not the slightest
      idea of this state of things, for I had left Sens only on the 11th of
      April.
    
I arrived in Venice just as the uprising against the French was about to start. Thousands of peasants were encouraged to rise up under the guise of addressing the issues in Bergamo and Brescia. I passed through Verona on April 16th, the day before the signing of the preliminaries at Leoben and the revolt in Verona. Easter Sunday was when the ministers of Jesus Christ chose to preach that it was okay—and even a good thing—to kill Jacobins. “Death to the French!”—“Death to Jacobins!” as they called all the French, were their rallying cries. At that time, I had no idea about this situation, since I had only left Sens on April 11th.







      After stopping two hours at Verona, I proceeded on my journey without
      being aware of the massacre which threatened that city. When about a
      league from the town I was, however, stopped by a party of insurgents on
      their way thither, consisting, as I estimated, of about two thousand men.
      They only desired me to cry 'El viva Santo Marco', an order with which I
      speedily complied, and passed on. What would have become of me had I been
      in Verona on the Monday? On that day the bells were rung, while the French
      were butchered in the hospitals. Every one met in the streets was put to
      death. The priests headed the assassins, and more than four hundred
      Frenchmen were thus sacrificed. The forts held out against the Venetians,
      though they attacked them with fury; but repossession of the town was not
      obtained until after ten days. On the very day of the insurrection of
      Verona some Frenchmen were assassinated between that city and Vicenza,
      through which I passed on the day before without danger; and scarcely had
      I passed through Padua, when I learned that others had been massacred
      there. Thus the assassinations travelled as rapidly as the post.
    
After stopping for two hours in Verona, I continued my journey unaware of the massacre that was about to take place in the city. However, when I was about a mile away from town, I was stopped by a group of insurgents on their way there, which I estimated to be around two thousand men. They simply asked me to shout 'El viva Santo Marco,' which I quickly did, and then moved on. What would have happened to me if I had been in Verona on that Monday? On that day, bells were rung while the French were killed in the hospitals. Anyone seen in the streets was put to death. The priests led the attackers, and more than four hundred Frenchmen were sacrificed that day. The forts held out against the Venetians, even though they attacked them fiercely; however, the city wasn't reclaimed until ten days later. On the very day of the insurrection in Verona, some Frenchmen were killed between that city and Vicenza, which I had passed through the day before without any danger; and just as I passed through Padua, I learned that others had been massacred there. Thus, the killings spread as quickly as the postal service.







      I shall say a few words respecting the revolt of the Venetian States,
      which, in consequence of the difference of political opinions, has been
      viewed in very contradictory lights.
    
I want to say a few words about the revolt of the Venetian States, which, due to differing political opinions, has been seen in very contrasting ways.







      The last days of Venice were approaching, and a storm had been brewing for
      more than a year. About the beginning of April 1797 the threatening
      symptoms of a general insurrection appeared. The quarrel commenced when
      the Austrians entered Peschiera, and some pretext was also afforded by the
      reception given to Monsieur, afterwards Louis XVIII. It was certain that
      Venice had made military preparations during the siege of Mantua in 1796.
      The interests of the aristocracy outweighed the political considerations
      in our favour. On, the 7th of June 1796 General Bonaparte wrote thus to
      the Executive Directory:
    
The final days of Venice were nearing, and a storm had been brewing for more than a year. Around early April 1797, the signs of a widespread uprising started to show. The conflict began when the Austrians entered Peschiera, and the welcome given to Monsieur, who later became Louis XVIII, also contributed to the tensions. It was clear that Venice had prepared militarily during the siege of Mantua in 1796. The aristocracy's interests took precedence over the political factors supporting us. On June 7, 1796, General Bonaparte wrote to the Executive Directory:






   The Senate of Venice lately sent two judges of their Council here to
   ascertain definitively how things stand. I repeated my complaints.
   I spoke to them about the reception given to Monsieur. Should it be
   your plan to extract five or six millions from Venice, I have
   expressly prepared this sort of rupture for you. If your intentions
   be more decided, I think this ground of quarrel ought to be kept up.
   Let me know what you mean to do, and wait till the favourable
   moment, which I shall seize according to circumstances; for we must
   not have to do with all the world at once.

The Senate of Venice recently sent two judges from their Council here to find out exactly what’s going on. I repeated my complaints. I told them about the welcome given to Monsieur. If your plan is to get five or six million from Venice, I’ve set this situation up for you. If your intentions are clearer, I think we should keep this conflict going. Let me know what you plan to do, and wait for the right moment, which I’ll take advantage of based on the circumstances; we shouldn’t have to deal with everyone at once.







      The Directory answered that the moment was not favourable; that it was
      first necessary to take Mantua, and give Wurmser a sound beating. However,
      towards the end of the year 1796 the Directory began to give more credit
      to the sincerity of the professions of neutrality made on the part of
      Venice. It was resolved, therefore, to be content with obtaining money and
      supplies for the army, and to refrain from violating the neutrality. The
      Directory had not then in reserve, like Bonaparte, the idea of making the
      dismemberment of Venice serve as a compensation for such of the Austrian
      possessions as the French Republic might retain.
    
The Directory responded that the timing wasn't right; it was first necessary to take Mantua and give Wurmser a serious defeat. However, by the end of 1796, the Directory started to trust the sincerity of Venice's claims of neutrality more. Therefore, it was decided to focus on obtaining money and supplies for the army and to avoid violating that neutrality. The Directory didn't, like Bonaparte, have the idea of using the dismemberment of Venice as compensation for the Austrian territories that the French Republic might keep.







      In 1797 the expected favourable moment had arrived. The knell of Venice
      was rung; and Bonaparte thus wrote to the Directory on the 30th of April:
      "I am convinced that the only course to be now taken is to destroy this
      ferocious and sanguinary Government." On the 3d of May, writing from Palma
      Nuova, he says: "I see nothing that can be done but to obliterate the
      Venetian name from the face of the globe."
    
In 1797, the anticipated moment arrived. The end of Venice was announced, and Bonaparte wrote to the Directory on April 30th: "I believe the only option now is to eliminate this brutal and bloodthirsty government." On May 3rd, writing from Palma Nuova, he stated: "I can see no other course but to erase the Venetian name from existence."







      Towards the end of March 1797 the Government of Venice was in a desperate
      state. Ottolini, the Podesta of Bergamo, an instrument of tyranny in the
      hands of the State inquisitors, then harassed the people of Bergamo and
      Brescia, who, after the reduction of Mantua, wished to be separated from
      Venice. He drew up, to be sent to the Senate, a long report respecting the
      plans of separation, founded on information given him by a Roman advocate,
      named Marcelin Serpini; who pretended to have gleaned the facts he
      communicated in conversation with officers of the French army. The plan of
      the patriotic party was, to unite the Venetian territories on the mainland
      with Lombardy, and to form of the whole one republic. The conduct of
      Ottolini exasperated the party inimical to Venice, and augmented the
      prevailing discontent. Having disguised his valet as a peasant, he sent
      him off to Venice with the report he had drawn up on Serpini's
      communications, and other information; but this report never reached the
      inquisitors. The valet was arrested, his despatches taken, and Ottolini
      fled from Bergamo. This gave a beginning to the general rising of the
      Venetian States. In fact, the force of circumstances alone brought on the
      insurrection of those territories against their old insular government.
      General La Hoz, who commanded the Lombard Legion, was the active protector
      of the revolution, which certainly had its origin more in the progress of
      the prevailing principles of liberty than in the crooked policy of the
      Senate of Venice. Bonaparte, indeed, in his despatches to the Directory,
      stated that the Senate had instigated the insurrection; but that was not
      quite correct, and he could not wholly believe his own assertion.
    
Towards the end of March 1797, the Government of Venice was in a desperate situation. Ottolini, the Podesta of Bergamo, a tool of tyranny under the State inquisitors, harassed the people of Bergamo and Brescia, who wanted to separate from Venice after the fall of Mantua. He prepared a lengthy report to send to the Senate about the separation plans, based on information from a Roman lawyer named Marcelin Serpini, who claimed to have learned the details from conversations with French army officers. The patriotic group's plan was to unite the Venetian territories on the mainland with Lombardy and create a single republic. Ottolini's actions angered those opposed to Venice and increased the widespread dissatisfaction. He disguised his servant as a peasant and sent him to Venice with the report based on Serpini's information and other details, but the report never reached the inquisitors. The servant was arrested, his documents confiscated, and Ottolini fled from Bergamo. This sparked a general uprising in the Venetian States. In reality, the insurrection in those territories against their old island government was driven largely by the force of circumstances. General La Hoz, who led the Lombard Legion, was a strong supporter of the revolution, which stemmed more from the growing principles of liberty than from the Senate's deceptive policies. Bonaparte, in his reports to the Directory, claimed that the Senate had incited the uprising, but that was not entirely accurate, and even he struggled to fully believe his own statement.







      Pending the vacillation of the Venetian Senate, Vienna was exciting the
      population of its States on the mainland to rise against the French. The
      Venetian Government had always exhibited an extreme aversion to the French
      Revolution, which had been violently condemned at Venice. Hatred of the
      French had been constantly excited and encouraged, and religious
      fanaticism had inflamed many persons of consequence in the country. From
      the end of 1796 the Venetian Senate secretly continued its armaments, and
      the whole conduct of that Government announced intentions which have been
      called perfidious, but the only object of which was to defeat intentions
      still more perfidious. The Senate was the irreconcilable enemy of the
      French Republic. Excitement was carried to such a point that in many
      places the people complained that they were not permitted to arm against
      the French. The Austrian generals industriously circulated the most
      sinister reports respecting the armies of the Sombre-et-Meuse and the
      Rhine, and the position of the French troops in the Tyrol. These
      impostures, printed in bulletins, were well calculated to instigate the
      Italians, and especially the Venetians, to rise in mass to exterminate the
      French, when the victorious army should penetrate into the Hereditary
      States.
    
While the Venetian Senate was hesitating, Vienna was rallying the people in its mainland territories to rise against the French. The Venetian Government had always shown a strong dislike for the French Revolution, which had been harshly condemned in Venice. Hatred for the French was consistently stirred up and encouraged, and religious zealotry had inflamed many influential people in the region. Since the end of 1796, the Venetian Senate secretly continued to build up its military, and the actions of that Government hinted at intentions that have been called deceitful, but the real goal was to counter intentions that were even more treacherous. The Senate was a sworn enemy of the French Republic. Tensions escalated to the point where, in many areas, people complained that they were not allowed to arm themselves against the French. Austrian generals eagerly spread alarming rumors about the armies at Sombre-et-Meuse and the Rhine, as well as the positions of the French forces in Tyrol. These deceptions, printed in bulletins, were designed to incite Italians, particularly Venetians, to rise up en masse to eliminate the French once the victorious army advanced into the Hereditary States.







      The pursuit of the Archduke Charles into the heart of Austria encouraged
      the hopes which the Venetian Senate had conceived, that it would be easy
      to annihilate the feeble remnant of the French army, as the troops were
      scattered through the States of Venice on the mainland. Wherever the
      Senate had the ascendency, insurrection was secretly fomented; wherever
      the influence of the patriots prevailed, ardent efforts were made to unite
      the Venetian terra firma to the Lombard Republic.
    
The pursuit of Archduke Charles into the heart of Austria boosted the hopes of the Venetian Senate, making them believe it would be easy to wipe out the weakened remnants of the French army, as their troops were scattered across the Venetian mainland. Wherever the Senate held power, uprisings were secretly encouraged; wherever the patriots had sway, there were strong efforts to connect the Venetian mainland with the Lombard Republic.







      Bonaparte skillfully took advantage of the disturbances, and the massacres
      consequent on them, to adopt towards the Senate the tone of an offended
      conqueror. He published a declaration that the Venetian Government was the
      most treacherous imaginable. The weakness and cruel hypocrisy of the
      Senate facilitated the plan he had conceived of making a peace for France
      at the expense of the Venetian Republic. On returning from Leoben, a
      conqueror and pacificator, he, without ceremony, took possession of
      Venice, changed the established government, and, master of all the
      Venetian territory, found himself, in the negotiations of Campo Formio,
      able to dispose of it as he pleased, as a compensation for the cessions
      which had been exacted from Austria. After the 19th of May he wrote to the
      Directory that one of the objects of his treaty with Venice was to avoid
      bringing upon us the odium of violating the preliminaries relative to the
      Venetian territory, and, at the same time, to afford pretexts and to
      facilitate their execution.
    
Bonaparte skillfully exploited the chaos and the resulting massacres to adopt a tone of an insulted conqueror with the Senate. He issued a statement claiming that the Venetian Government was incredibly treacherous. The Senate's weakness and cruel hypocrisy made it easier for him to execute his plan of negotiating peace for France at the cost of the Venetian Republic. Upon returning from Leoben, as both a conqueror and peacemaker, he boldly took control of Venice, changed the existing government, and, being in charge of all Venetian territory, was able to influence negotiations at Campo Formio according to his wishes, using it as leverage for the concessions he secured from Austria. After May 19th, he wrote to the Directory that one of the goals of his treaty with Venice was to prevent the backlash of violating the agreements regarding the Venetian territory while simultaneously providing reasons and easing the execution of those agreements.







      At Campo Formio the fate of this republic was decided. It disappeared from
      the number of States without effort or noise. The silence of its fall
      astonished imaginations warmed by historical recollections from the
      brilliant pages of its maritime glory. Its power, however, which had been
      silently undermined, existed no longer except in the prestige of those
      recollections. What resistance could it have opposed to the man destined
      to change the face of all Europe?
    
At Campo Formio, the fate of this republic was settled. It vanished from the list of States without struggle or noise. The quietness of its decline shocked those whose imaginations had been ignited by historical memories of its impressive maritime achievements. Its power, which had been quietly eroded, existed only in the respect those memories commanded. What resistance could it have posed against the person destined to transform all of Europe?








 


 




















      CHAPTER V
    



      1797.
    
1797.


   Signature of the preliminaries of peace—Fall of Venice—My arrival
   and reception at Leoben—Bonaparte wishes to pursue his success—
   The Directory opposes him—He wishes to advance on Vienna—Movement
   of the army of the Sombre-et-Mouse—Bonaparte's dissatisfaction—
   Arrival at Milan—We take up our residence at Montebello—Napoleon's
   judgment respecting Dandolo and Melzi.

   Signature of the peace preliminaries—Fall of Venice—My arrival and reception in Leoben—Bonaparte wants to continue his success—The Directory is against him—He wants to move on Vienna—Movement of the Sombre-et-Mouse army—Bonaparte's discontent—Arrival in Milan—We settle in Montebello—Napoleon's opinion about Dandolo and Melzi.







      I joined Bonaparte at Leoben on the 19th of April, the day after the
      signature of the preliminaries of peace. These preliminaries resembled in
      no respect the definitive treaty of Campo Formio. The still incomplete
      fall of the State of Venice did not at that time present an available prey
      for partition. All was arranged afterwards. Woe to the small States that
      come in immediate contact with two colossal empires waging war!
    
I met up with Bonaparte in Leoben on April 19, the day after the preliminary peace agreement was signed. These preliminaries were nothing like the final treaty of Campo Formio. The still ongoing collapse of the State of Venice wasn't a target for division at that time. Everything was worked out later. It's a tough situation for the small States that find themselves right next to two massive empires engaged in war!







      Here terminated my connection with Bonaparte as a comrade and equal, and
      those relations with him commenced in which I saw him suddenly great,
      powerful, and surrounded with homage and glory. I no longer addressed him
      as I had been accustomed to do. I appreciated too well his personal
      importance. His position placed too great a social distance between him
      and me not to make me feel the necessity of fashioning my demeanour
      accordingly. I made with pleasure, and without regret, the easy sacrifice
      of the style of familiar companionship and other little privileges. He
      said, in a loud voice, when I entered the salon where he was surrounded by
      the officers who formed his brilliant staff, "I am glad to see you, at
      last"—"Te voila donc, enfin;", but as soon as we were alone he made
      me understand that he was pleased with my reserve, and thanked me for it.
      I was immediately placed at the head of his Cabinet. I spoke to him the
      same evening respecting the insurrection of the Venetian territories, of
      the dangers which menaced the French, and of those which I had escaped,
      etc. "Care thou' nothing about it," said he;
    
Here ended my connection with Bonaparte as a comrade and equal, and those relationships with him started where I saw him suddenly become great, powerful, and surrounded by admiration and glory. I no longer spoke to him as I used to. I recognized too well his personal significance. His position created too much social distance between us for me not to feel the need to adjust my behavior accordingly. I made the easy sacrifice of the familiar companionship style and other little privileges with pleasure and without regret. He called out in a loud voice when I entered the room where he was surrounded by the officers of his impressive staff, "I'm glad to see you, at last"—"Te voila donc, enfin;" but as soon as we were alone, he made it clear that he appreciated my restraint and thanked me for it. I was quickly appointed the head of his Cabinet. That same evening, I spoke to him about the unrest in the Venetian territories, the dangers facing the French, and the challenges I had avoided, etc. "Don't worry about it," he said;






 —[He used to 'tutoyer' me in this familiar manner until his return
   to Milan.]— 
 —[He used to speak to me informally like this until he went back to Milan.]—







      "those rascals shall pay for it. Their republic has had its day, and is
      done." This republic was, however, still existing, wealthy and powerful.
      These words brought to my recollection what I had read in a work by one
      Gabriel Naude, who wrote during the reign of Louis XIII. for Cardinal de
      Bagin: "Do you see Constantinople, which flatters itself with being the
      seat of a double empire; and Venice, which glories in her stability of a
      thousand years? Their day will come."
    
"Those troublemakers will pay for it. Their republic has had its time, and it's over." This republic was, however, still alive, wealthy, and powerful. These words reminded me of something I read in a work by Gabriel Naude, who wrote during the reign of Louis XIII for Cardinal de Bagin: "Do you see Constantinople, which prides itself on being the center of a double empire; and Venice, which takes pride in her stability of a thousand years? Their time will come."







      In the first conversation which Bonaparte had with me, I thought I could
      perceive that he was not very well satisfied with the preliminaries. He
      would have liked to advance with his army to Vienna. He did not conceal
      this from me. Before he offered peace to Prince Charles, he wrote to the
      Directory that he intended to pursue his success, but that for this
      purpose he reckoned on the co-operation of the armies of the
      Sambre-et-Meuse and the Rhine. The Directory replied that he must not
      reckon on a diversion in Germany, and that the armies of the
      Sambre-et-Meuse and the Rhine were not to pass that river. A resolution so
      unexpected—a declaration so contrary to what he had constantly
      solicited, compelled him to terminate his triumphs, and renounce his
      favourite project of planting the standard of the republic on the ramparts
      of Vienna, or at least of levying contributions on the suburbs of that
      capital.
    
In the first conversation I had with Bonaparte, I sensed that he wasn’t very happy with the initial arrangements. He wanted to move his army towards Vienna, and he didn’t hide that from me. Before offering peace to Prince Charles, he wrote to the Directory, saying he planned to continue his success, but for that, he needed the support of the Sambre-et-Meuse and Rhine armies. The Directory responded that he shouldn’t count on any diversion in Germany, and that the Sambre-et-Meuse and Rhine armies were not allowed to cross that river. This surprising decision—so contrary to what he had been consistently requesting—forced him to end his victories and give up his favorite plan of raising the republic's flag on the walls of Vienna or at least collecting contributions from the suburbs of that city.







      A law of the 23d of August 1794 forbade the use of any other names than
      those in the register of births. I wished to conform to this law, which
      very foolishly interfered with old habits. My eldest brother was living,
      and I therefore designated myself Fauvelet the younger. This annoyed
      General Bonaparte. "Such change of name is absolute nonsense," said he. "I
      have known you for twenty years by the name of Bourrienne. Sign as you
      still are named, and see what the advocates with their laws will do."
    
A law passed on August 23, 1794, prohibited the use of any names other than those listed in the birth register. I wanted to follow this law, which foolishly disrupted old habits. My oldest brother was alive, so I referred to myself as Fauvelet the younger. This irritated General Bonaparte. "Changing your name is ridiculous," he said. "I've known you for twenty years as Bourrienne. Sign with the name you have always used, and let's see what the lawyers with their rules will do."







      On the 20th of April, as Bonaparte was returning to Italy, he was obliged
      to stop on an island of the Tagliamento, while a torrent passed by, which
      had been occasioned by a violent storm. A courier appeared on the right
      bank of the river. He reached the island. Bonaparte read in the despatches
      of the Directory that the armies of the Sambre-et-Meuse and the Rhine were
      in motion; that they were preparing to cross the Rhine, and had commenced
      hostilities on the very day of the signing of the preliminaries. This
      information arrived seven days after the Directory had written that "he
      must not reckon on the co-operation of the armies of Germany." It is
      impossible to describe the General's vexation on reading these despatches.
      He had signed the preliminaries only because the Government had
      represented the co-operation of the armies of the Rhine as impracticable
      at that moment, and shortly afterwards he was informed that the
      co-operation was about to take place! The agitation of his mind was so
      great that he for a moment conceived the idea of crossing to the left bank
      of the Tagliamento, and breaking off the negotiations under some pretext
      or other. He persisted for some time in this resolution, which, however,
      Berthier and some other generals successfully opposed. He exclaimed, "What
      a difference would there have been in the preliminaries, if, indeed, there
      had been any!"
    
On April 20th, as Bonaparte was heading back to Italy, he had to stop on an island in the Tagliamento while a flood caused by a fierce storm rushed by. A courier appeared on the right bank of the river and made his way to the island. Bonaparte read in the dispatches from the Directory that the armies of the Sambre-et-Meuse and the Rhine were on the move, preparing to cross the Rhine, and had started hostilities on the very day the preliminaries were signed. This news came seven days after the Directory had stated that "he must not count on the cooperation of the German armies." It's impossible to describe the General's frustration upon reading these dispatches. He had only signed the preliminaries because the Government had claimed that the cooperation of the Rhine armies was unfeasible at that time, and shortly after, he learned that that cooperation was about to happen! His mind was so agitated that for a moment he thought about crossing to the left bank of the Tagliamento and breaking off the negotiations for any reason. He held onto this resolve for a while, but Berthier and some other generals managed to convince him otherwise. He exclaimed, "What a difference there would have been in the preliminaries, if there had even been any!"







      His chagrin, I might almost say his despair, increased when, some days
      after his entry into the Venetian States, he received a letter from
      Moreau, dated the 23d of April, in which that general informed him that,
      having passed the Rhine on the 20th with brilliant success, and taken four
      thousand prisoners, it would not be long before he joined him. Who, in
      fact, can say what would have happened but for the vacillating and
      distrustful policy of the Directory, which always encouraged low
      intrigues, and participated in the jealousy excited by the renown of the
      young conqueror? Because the Directory dreaded his ambition they
      sacrificed the glory of our arms and the honour of the nation; for it
      cannot be doubted that, had the passage of the Rhine, so urgently demanded
      by Bonaparte, taken place some days sooner, he would have been able,
      without incurring any risk, to dictate imperiously the conditions of peace
      on the spot; or, if Austria were obstinate, to have gone on to Vienna and
      signed it there. Still occupied with this idea, he wrote to the Directory
      on the 8th of May: "Since I have received intelligence of the passage of
      the Rhine by Hoche and Moreau, I much regret that it did not take place
      fifteen days sooner; or, at least, that Moreau did not say that he was in
      a situation to effect it." (He had been informed to the contrary.) What,
      after this, becomes of the unjust reproach against Bonaparte of having,
      through jealousy of Moreau, deprived France of the advantages which a
      prolonged campaign would have procured her? Bonaparte was too devoted to
      the glory of France to sacrifice it to jealousy of the glory of any
      individual.
    
His disappointment, I might almost say his despair, grew when, a few days after he arrived in the Venetian States, he received a letter from Moreau, dated April 23, informing him that, after crossing the Rhine on the 20th with great success and capturing four thousand prisoners, he would soon be joining him. Who can really say what might have happened if it weren't for the indecisive and distrustful policies of the Directory, which always supported petty intrigues and fueled jealousy over the rising fame of the young conqueror? Because the Directory feared his ambition, they sacrificed the glory of our military efforts and the honor of the nation; it's undeniable that if the Rhine crossing, which Bonaparte had so urgently requested, had happened a few days earlier, he could have easily dictated the terms of peace right there and then, or, if Austria remained stubborn, continued on to Vienna to sign it there. Still preoccupied with this thought, he wrote to the Directory on May 8: "Since I received news of Hoche and Moreau crossing the Rhine, I really regret that it didn’t happen fifteen days earlier; or at least, that Moreau didn’t mention he was in a position to do it." (He had been informed otherwise.) After this, what becomes of the unfounded accusations against Bonaparte for supposedly depriving France of the benefits a prolonged campaign could have brought due to jealousy of Moreau? Bonaparte was too committed to the glory of France to sacrifice it for jealousy of anyone else's achievements.







      In traversing the Venetian States to return to Milan, he often spoke to me
      of Venice. He always assured me that he was originally entirely
      unconnected with the insurrections which had agitated that country; that
      common sense would show, as his project was to advance into the basin of
      the Danube, he had no interest in having his rear disturbed by revolts,
      and his communications interrupted or cut off: "Such an idea," said he,
      "would be absurd, and could never enter into the mind of a man to whom
      even his enemies cannot deny a certain degree of tact." He acknowledged
      that he was not vexed that matters had turned out as they had done,
      because he had already taken advantage of these circumstances in the
      preliminaries and hoped to profit still more from them in the definitive
      peace. "When I arrive at Milan," said he, "I will occupy myself with
      Venice." It is therefore quite evident to me that in reality the
      General-in-Chief had nothing to do with the Venetian insurrections; that
      subsequently he was not displeased with them; and that, later still, he
      derived great advantage from them.
    
While traveling through the Venetian States on his way back to Milan, he often talked to me about Venice. He repeatedly claimed that he was originally completely uninvolved with the uprisings that had rocked that region; common sense would show that since his plan was to advance into the Danube basin, he had no interest in having his rear disturbed by rebellions or his communications disrupted: "Such an idea," he said, "would be absurd and would never enter the mind of a man to whom even his enemies cannot deny a certain degree of tact." He admitted that he wasn't upset that things had unfolded as they did, because he had already taken advantage of these circumstances in the preliminary discussions and hoped to gain even more from them in the final peace. "When I get to Milan," he said, "I'll focus on Venice." It’s clear to me that the General-in-Chief was actually not involved with the Venetian uprisings; later, he wasn't unhappy about them; and even later still, he benefited significantly from them.







      We arrived at Milan on the 5th of May, by way of Lawbook, Thrust,
      Palma-Nova, Padua, Verona, and Mantua. Bonaparte soon took up his
      residence at Montebello, a very fine chateau, three leagues from Milan,
      with a view over the rich and magnificent plains of Lombard. At Montebello
      commenced the negotiations for the definitive peace which were terminated
      at Passeriano. The Marquis de Gallo, the Austrian plenipotentiary, resided
      half a league from Montebello.
    
We arrived in Milan on May 5th, passing through Lawbook, Thrust, Palma-Nova, Padua, Verona, and Mantua. Bonaparte quickly settled in at Montebello, a beautiful chateau located about three leagues from Milan, offering a view of the lush and stunning plains of Lombardy. It was at Montebello that the negotiations for the final peace began, which were concluded at Passeriano. The Marquis de Gallo, the Austrian envoy, lived half a league away from Montebello.







      During his residence at Montebello the General-in-Chief made an excursion
      to the Lake of Como and to the Ago Maguire. He visited the Borromean
      Islands in succession, and occupied himself on his return with the
      organization of the towns of Venice, Genoa, and Milan. He sought for men
      and found none. "Good God," said he, "how rare men are! There are eighteen
      millions in Italy, and I have with difficulty found two, Dandolo and
      Melzi."
    
During his stay at Montebello, the General-in-Chief took a trip to Lake Como and the Ago Maguire. He visited the Borromean Islands one after another and focused on organizing the cities of Venice, Genoa, and Milan on his way back. He looked for capable individuals but found none. "Good God," he said, "how rare people are! There are eighteen million in Italy, and I've barely found two, Dandolo and Melzi."







      He appreciated them properly. Dandolo was one of the men who, in those
      revolutionary times, reflected the greatest honour upon Italy. After being
      a member of the great council of the Cisalpine Republic, he exercised the
      functions of Proveditore-General in Dalmatia. It is only necessary to
      mention the name of Dandolo to the Dalmatians to learn from the grateful
      inhabitants how just and vigorous his administration was. The services of
      Melzi are known. He was Chancellor and Keeper of the Seals of the Italian
      monarchy, and was created Duke of Lodi.
    
He truly valued them. Dandolo was one of those individuals who, during those revolutionary times, brought immense honor to Italy. After serving on the great council of the Cisalpine Republic, he took on the role of Proveditore-General in Dalmatia. Just mentioning Dandolo's name to the Dalmatians will reveal from the thankful locals how fair and strong his leadership was. Everyone knows about Melzi's contributions. He was the Chancellor and Keeper of the Seals of the Italian monarchy and was made Duke of Lodi.






 —[Francesco, Comte de Melzi d'Eryl (1753-1816), vice President of
   the Italian Republic, 1802; Chancellor of the Kingdom of Italy,
   1805; Duc de Loth, 1807.]— 
—[Francesco, Count de Melzi d'Eryl (1753-1816), Vice President of the Italian Republic, 1802; Chancellor of the Kingdom of Italy, 1805; Duke of Loth, 1807.]—







      In those who have seen the world the truth of Napoleon's reproach excites
      little astonishment. In a country which, according to biographies and
      newspapers, abounds with extraordinary men, a woman of much talent—(Madame
      Roland.)—said, "What has most surprised me, since the elevation of
      my husband has afforded me the opportunity of knowing many persons, and
      particularly those employed in important affairs, is the universal
      mediocrity which exists. It surpasses all that the imagination can
      conceive, and it is observable in all ranks, from the clerk to the
      minister. Without this experience I never could have believed my species
      to be so contemptible."
    
For those who have traveled and experienced the world, Napoleon's critique is hardly surprising. In a country that, according to biographies and newspapers, is full of remarkable individuals, a talented woman—(Madame Roland)—remarked, "What has surprised me the most since my husband rose to power and I got to know many people, especially those involved in important matters, is the overwhelming mediocrity that exists. It exceeds anything one could imagine, and it's evident at every level, from the clerk to the minister. Without this experience, I could never have believed my kind to be so worthless."







      Who does not remember Oxenstiern's remark to his son, who trembled at
      going so young to the congress of Munster: "Go, my son. You will see by
      what sort of men the world is governed."
    
Who doesn't remember Oxenstiern's comment to his son, who was nervous about going to the congress of Munster at such a young age: "Go, my son. You'll see what kind of people run the world."








 


 




















      CHAPTER VI.
    



      1797.
    
1797.


   Napoleon's correspondence—Release of French prisoners at Olmutz—
   Negotiations with Austria—Bonaparte's dissatisfaction—Letter of
   complaint from Bonaparte to the Executive Directory—Note respecting
   the affairs of Venice and the Club of Clichy, written by Bonaparte
   and circulated in the army—Intercepted letter of the Emperor
   Francis.

   Napoleon's letters—Release of French prisoners at Olmutz—Negotiations with Austria—Bonaparte's frustration—Letter of complaint from Bonaparte to the Executive Directory—Note about the situation in Venice and the Club of Clichy, written by Bonaparte and shared with the army—Intercepted letter from Emperor Francis.







      During the time when the preliminaries of Leoben suspended military
      operations, Napoleon was not anxious to reply immediately to all letters.
      He took a fancy to do, not exactly as Cardinal Dubois did, when he threw
      into the fire the letters he had received, saying, "There! my
      correspondents are answered," but something of the same kind. To satisfy
      himself that people wrote too much, and lost, in trifling and useless
      answers, valuable time, he told me to open only the letters which came by
      extraordinary couriers, and to leave all the rest for three weeks in the
      basket. At the end of that time it was unnecessary to reply to four-fifths
      of these communications. Some were themselves answers; some were
      acknowledgments of letters received; others contained requests for favours
      already granted, but of which intelligence had not been received. Many
      were filled with complaints respecting provisions, pay, or clothing, and
      orders had been issued upon all these points before the letters were
      written. Some generals demanded reinforcements, money, promotion, etc. By
      not opening their letters Bonaparte was spared the unpleasing office of
      refusing. When the General-in-Chief compared the very small number of
      letters which it was necessary to answer with the large number which time
      alone had answered, he laughed heartily at his whimsical idea. Would not
      this mode of proceeding be preferable to that of causing letters to be
      opened by any one who may be employed, and replying to them by a circular
      to which it is only necessary to attach a date?
    
During the time when the preliminaries of Leoben paused military operations, Napoleon wasn't eager to respond immediately to all letters. He liked to do something similar, though not quite like Cardinal Dubois, who would throw his letters into the fire and say, "There! My correspondents are answered." To prove to himself that people wrote too much and wasted valuable time with trivial and unnecessary replies, he instructed me to only open letters that came by special couriers and leave the rest in a basket for three weeks. After that time, it turned out there was no need to respond to four-fifths of those communications. Some were replies themselves; some were acknowledgments of letters received; others included requests for favors that had already been granted, but he hadn't been informed. Many contained complaints about supplies, pay, or uniforms, and orders had been issued to address all these issues before the letters were written. Some generals requested reinforcements, money, promotions, etc. By not opening their letters, Bonaparte avoided the unpleasant task of turning them down. When the General-in-Chief compared the very small number of letters he actually needed to respond to with the large number that time alone had dealt with, he laughed heartily at this quirky strategy. Wouldn't this approach be better than having anyone open letters and then sending out a standard reply that just needed a date?







      During the negotiations which followed the treaty of Leoben, the Directory
      ordered General Bonaparte to demand the liberty of MM. de La Fayette,
      Latour-Marbourg, and Bureau de Puzy, detained at Olmutz since 1792 as
      prisoners of state. The General-in-Chief executed this commission with as
      much pleasure as zeal, but he often met with difficulties which appeared
      to be insurmountable. It has been very incorrectly stated that these
      prisoners obtained their liberty by one of the articles of the
      preliminaries of Leoben. I wrote a great deal on this subject to the
      dictation of General Bonaparte, and I joined him only on the day after the
      signature of these preliminaries. It was not till the end of May of the
      year 1797 that the liberation of these captives was demanded, and they did
      not obtain their freedom till the end of August. There was no article in
      the treaty, public or secret, which had reference to them. Neither was it
      at his own suggestion that Bonaparte demanded the enlargement of the
      prisoners, but by order of the Directory. To explain why they did not go
      to France immediately after their liberation from Olmutz, it is necessary
      to recollect that the events of the 18th Fructidor occurred between the
      period when the first steps were taken to procure their liberty and the
      date of their deliverance. It required all Bonaparte's ascendency and
      vigour of character to enable him to succeed in his object at the end of
      three months.
    
During the negotiations after the Treaty of Leoben, the Directory instructed General Bonaparte to secure the release of MM. de La Fayette, Latour-Marbourg, and Bureau de Puzy, who had been held as state prisoners in Olmutz since 1792. The General-in-Chief approached this mission with eagerness and determination, but he often faced challenges that seemed impossible to overcome. It has been inaccurately claimed that these prisoners were freed by one of the articles in the preliminaries of Leoben. I wrote extensively on this matter under General Bonaparte’s direction and joined him only the day after these preliminaries were signed. It wasn't until the end of May 1797 that their release was requested, and they didn’t gain their freedom until the end of August. There was no mention of them in the treaty, either public or secret. Bonaparte did not independently propose the release of the prisoners; it was a directive from the Directory. To understand why they didn’t return to France immediately after their release from Olmutz, it’s important to remember that the events of the 18th of Fructidor took place between the initial requests for their freedom and their eventual liberation. It took all of Bonaparte's influence and strong character to achieve this after three months.







      We had arrived at the month of July, and the negotiations were tediously
      protracted. It was impossible to attribute the embarrassment which was
      constantly occurring to anything but the artful policy of Austria: Other
      affairs occupied Bonaparte. The news from Paris engrossed all his
      attention. He saw with extreme displeasure the manner in which the
      influential orators of the councils, and pamphlets written in the same
      spirit as they spoke, criticised him, his army, his victories, the affairs
      of Venice, and the national glory. He was quite indignant at the
      suspicions which it was sought to create respecting his conduct and
      ulterior views.
    
We had reached July, and the negotiations were dragging on. It was impossible to attribute the ongoing embarrassment to anything other than Austria's crafty strategy. Bonaparte was occupied with other matters. The news from Paris captured all his focus. He was extremely displeased with how the influential speakers in the councils and the pamphlets echoing their sentiments criticized him, his army, his victories, the situation in Venice, and national pride. He was quite angry about the doubts being cast on his actions and future intentions.







      The following excerpts, attributed to the pens of Dumouriez or Rivarol,
      are specimens of some of the comments of the time:
    
The following excerpts, attributed to the writings of Dumouriez or Rivarol, are examples of some of the comments from that time:






   EXTRACTS OF LETTERS IN "LE SPECTATUER DU NORD" of 1797.

   General Bonaparte is, without contradiction, the most brilliant
   warrior who has appeared at the head of the armies of the French
   Republic. His glory is incompatible with democratic equality, and
   the services he has rendered are too great to be recompensed except
   by hatred and ingratitude. He is very young, and consequently has
   to pursue a long career of accusations and of persecutions.

   ........Whatever may be the crowning event of his military career,
   Bonaparte is still a great man. All his glory is due to himself
   alone; because he alone has developed a character and a genius of
   which no one else has furnished an example.

   EXTRACTS OF LETTERS IN "LE SPECTATEUR DU NORD" of 1797.

   General Bonaparte is undeniably the most outstanding warrior to lead the armies of the French Republic. His fame is at odds with democratic equality, and the contributions he has made are far too significant to be rewarded with anything but resentment and ungratefulness. He is quite young, so he will likely face a long path filled with accusations and persecution.

   ........No matter what the pinnacle of his military career may be, Bonaparte is still a remarkable individual. All his glory is solely his own; because he alone has shaped a character and a genius that no one else has exemplified.






   EXTRACT OF LETTER OR 18TH APRIL 1797 in "THE SPECTATEUR DU NORD."

   Regard, for instance, this wretched war. Uncertain in Champagne, it
   becomes daring under Dumouriez, unbridled under the brigands who
   fought the Vendeeans, methodic under Pichegru, vulgar under Jourdan,
   skilled under Moreau, rash under Bonaparte. Each general has put
   the seal of his genius on his career, and has given life or death to
   his army. From the commencement of his career Bonaparte has
   developed an ardent character which is irritated by obstacles, and a
   quickness which forestalls every determination of the enemy. It is
   with heavier and heavier blows that, he strikes. He throws his army
   on the enemy like an unloosed torrent. He is all action, and he is
   so in everything. See him fight, negotiate, decree, punish, all is
   the matter of a moment. He compromises with Turin as with Rome. He
   invades Modena as he burns Binasco. He never hesitates; to cut the
   Gordian knot is always his method.

   EXTRACT OF LETTER OR 18TH APRIL 1797 in "THE SPECTATEUR DU NORD."

   Look at this terrible war, for example. Uncertain in Champagne, it becomes bold under Dumouriez, uncontrolled under the brigands who fought the Vendeeans, strategic under Pichegru, straightforward under Jourdan, skilled under Moreau, reckless under Bonaparte. Each general has stamped his mark on his campaign, deciding the fate of his army. From the start of his career, Bonaparte has shown a passionate character that gets frustrated by challenges, and a speed that anticipates every move of the enemy. He strikes with increasingly heavier blows. He sends his army at the enemy like an unleashed torrent. He is all about action, and that applies to everything he does. Watch him fight, negotiate, enact laws, punish—everything happens in a flash. He strikes deals with Turin just like he does with Rome. He invades Modena just like he burns Binasco. He never hesitates; cutting the Gordian knot is always his approach.







      Bonaparte could not endure to have his conduct predicated; and enraged at
      seeing his campaigns depreciated, his glory and that of his army
      disparaged,
    
Bonaparte couldn't stand having his actions judged; and furious at seeing his campaigns undervalued and the glory of himself and his army belittled,






 —[The extraordinary folly of the opposition to the Directory in
   throwing Bonaparte on to the side of the Directory, will be seen by
   reading the speech of Dumolard, so often referred to by Bourrienne
   (Thiers, vol. v. pp. 110-111), and by the attempts of Mathieu Dumas
   to remove the impression that the opposition slighted the fortunate
   General. (See Dumas, tome iii. p. 80; see also Lanfrey, tome i.
   pp. 257-299).]— 
 —[The outrageous mistake of the opposition to the Directory in pushing Bonaparte to align with the Directory can be understood by reading Dumolard's speech, which Bourrienne mentions frequently (Thiers, vol. v. pp. 110-111), as well as by Mathieu Dumas's efforts to counter the notion that the opposition disrespected the lucky General. (See Dumas, tome iii. p. 80; see also Lanfrey, tome i. pp. 257-299).]—







      and intrigues formed against him in the Club of Clichy, he wrote the
      following letter to the Directory:—
    
and plots were made against him in the Club of Clichy, he wrote the following letter to the Directory:—






   TO THE PRESIDENT OF THE EXECUTIVE DIRECTORY.

   I have just received, Citizens-Directors, a copy of the motion of
   Dumolard (23d June 1797).

   This motion, printed by order of the Assembly, it is evident, is
   directed against me. I was entitled, after, having five times
   concluded peace, and given a death-blow to the coalition, if not to
   civic triumphs, at least to live tranquilly under the protection of
   the first magistrates of the Republic. At present I find myself
   ill-treated, persecuted, and disparaged, by every shameful means,
   which their policy brings to the aid of persecution. I would have
   been indifferent to all except that species of opprobrium with which
   the first magistrates of the Republic endeavour to overwhelm me.
   After having deserved well of my country by my last act, I am not
   bound to hear myself accused in a manner as absurd as atrocious.
   I have not expected that a manifesto, signed by emigrants, paid by
   England, should obtain more credit with the Council of Five Hundred
   than the evidence of eighty thousand men—than mine! What! we were
   assassinated by traitors—upwards of four hundred men perished; and
   the first magistrates of the Republic make it a crime to have
   believed the statement for a moment. Upwards of four hundred
   Frenchmen were dragged through the streets. They were assassinated
   before the eyes of the governor of the fort. They were pierced with
   a thousand blows of stilettos, such as I sent you and the
   representatives of the French people cause it to be printed, that if
   they believed this fact for an instant, they were excusable. I know
   well there are societies where it is said, "Is this blood, then, so
   pure?"

   If only base men, who are dead to the feeling of patriotism and
   national glory, had spoken of me thus, I would not have complained.
   I would have disregarded it; but I have a right to complain of the
   degradation to which the first magistrates of the Republic reduce
   those who have aggrandised, and carried the French name to so high a
   pitch of glory. Citizens-Directors, I reiterate the demand I made
   for my dismissal; I wish to live in tranquillity, if the poniards of
   Clichy will allow me to live. You have employed me in negotiations.
   I am not very fit to conduct them.

   TO THE PRESIDENT OF THE EXECUTIVE DIRECTORY.

   I have just received, Citizens-Directors, a copy of the motion from Dumolard (June 23, 1797).

   It's clear that this motion, printed by order of the Assembly, is aimed at me. After successfully negotiating peace five times and effectively ending the coalition, I believed I deserved to live peacefully under the protection of the Republic's top officials. Instead, I find myself mistreated, persecuted, and belittled by every disgraceful tactic they can muster. I wouldn't have cared much if it weren’t for the shame these high officials try to heap on me. After serving my country well, I shouldn't have to endure absurd and horrific accusations. I never expected that a manifesto signed by exiles on England's payroll would carry more weight with the Council of Five Hundred than the testimony of eighty thousand people—than mine! What? We were murdered by traitors—over four hundred men lost their lives; and yet the Republic's officials consider it a crime to have believed this for even a moment. More than four hundred Frenchmen were dragged through the streets. They were murdered right before the governor of the fort. They suffered countless stiletto blows, as I informed you and the representatives of the French people to print, so that if they believed this fact even for a second, they were justified. I am well aware there are groups that question, "Is this blood really so pure?"

   If only lowly men, who lack any sense of patriotism or national pride, had spoken about me like this, I would have ignored it; but I have every right to be outraged at the degradation the Republic's top officials impose on those who have elevated and brought such honor to the French name. Citizens-Directors, I repeat my request for my dismissal; I want to live in peace, if the daggers of Clichy will let me. You have tasked me with negotiations. I’m not really fit to handle them.







      About the same time he drew up the following note respecting the affairs
      of Venice, which was printed without the author's name, and circulated
      through the whole army:—
    
About the same time, he wrote the following note about the situation in Venice, which was published anonymously and spread throughout the entire army:—






                 NOTE.

   Bonaparte, pausing before the gates of Turin, Parma, Rome, and
   Vienna, offering peace when he was sure of obtaining nothing but
   fresh triumphs—Bonaparte, whose every operation exhibits respect
   for religion, morality, and old age; who, instead of heaping, as he
   might have done, dishonour upon the Venetians, and humbling their
   republic to the earth, loaded her with acts of kindness, and took
   such great interest in her glory—is this the same Bonaparte who is
   accused of destroying the ancient Government of Venice, and
   democratising Genoa, and even of interfering in the affairs of the
   prudent and worthy people of the Swiss Cantons? Bonaparte had
   passed the Tagliamento, and entered Germany, when insurrections
   broke out in the Venetian States; these insurrections were,
   therefore, opposed to Bonaparte's project; surely, then, he could
   not favour them. When he was in the heart of Germany the Venetians
   massacred more than four hundred French troops, drove their quarters
   out of Verona, assassinated the unfortunate Laugier, and presented
   the spectacle of a fanatical party in arms. He returned to Italy;
   and on his arrival, as the winds cease their agitation at the
   presence of Neptune, the whole of Italy, which was in commotion,
   which was in arms, was restored to order.

   However, the deputies from Bonaparte drew up different articles
   conformable to the situation of the country, and in order to
   prevent, not a revolution in the Government, for the Government was
   defunct, and had died a natural death, but a crisis, and to save the
   city from convulsion, anarchy, and pillage. Bonaparte spared a
   division of his army to save Venice from pillage and massacre. All
   the battalions were in the streets of Venice, the disturbers were
   put down, and the pillage discontinued. Property and trade were
   preserved, when General Baragney d'Hilliers entered Venice with his
   division. Bonaparte, as usual, spared blood, and was the protector
   of Venice. Whilst the French troops remained they conducted
   themselves peaceably, and only interfered to support the provisional
   Government.

   Bonaparte could not say to the deputies of Venice, who came to ask
   his protection and assistance against the populace, who wished to
   plunder them, "I cannot meddle with your affairs." He could not say
   this, for Venice, and all its territories, had really formed the
   theatre of war; and, being in the rear of the army of Italy, the
   Republic of Venice was really under the jurisdiction of that army.
   The rights of war confer upon a general the powers of supreme police
   over the countries which are the seat of war. As the great
   Frederick said, "There are no neutrals where there is war."
   Ignorant advocates and babblers have asked, in the Club of Clichy,
   why we occupy the territory of Venice. These declaimers should
   learn war, and they would know that the Adige, the Brenta, and the
   Tagliamento, where we have been fighting for two years, are within
   the Venetian States. But, gentlemen of Clichy, we are at no loss to
   perceive your meaning. You reproach the army of Italy for having
   surmounted all difficulties—for subduing all Italy for having twice
   passed the Alps—for having marched on Vienna, and obliged Austria
   to acknowledge the Republic that, you, men of Clichy, would destroy.
   You accuse Bonaparte, I see clearly, for having brought about peace.
   But I know you, and I speak in the name of eighty thousand soldiers.
   The time is gone when base advocates and wretched declaimers could
   induce soldiers to revolt. If, however, you compel them, the
   soldiers of the army of Italy will soon appear at the Barrier of
   Clichy, with their General. But woe unto you if they do!

   Bonaparte having arrived at Palma-Nova, issued a manifesto on the 2d
   of May 1797. Arrived at Mestre, where he posted his troops, the
   Government sent three deputies to him, with a decree of the Great
   Council, without Bonaparte having solicited it and without his
   having thought of making any change in the Government of that
   country: The governor of Venice was an old man, ninety-nine years-of
   age, confined by illness to his apartment. Everyone felt the
   necessity of renovating this Government of twelve hundred years'
   existence, and to simplify its machinery, in order to preserve its
   independence, honour, and glory. It was necessary to deliberate,
   first, on the manner of renovating the Government; secondly, on the
   means of atoning for the massacre of the French, the iniquity of
   which every one was sensible..

   Bonaparte, after having received the deputation at Mestre, told them
   that in order to obtain satisfaction, for the assassination of his
   brethren is arms, he wished the Great Council to arrest the
   inquisitors. He afterwards granted them an armistice, and appointed
   Milan as the place of conference. The deputies arrived at Milan on
   the . . . A negotiation commenced to re-establish harmony between
   the Governments. However, anarchy, with all its horrors, afflicted
   the city of Venice. Ten thousand Sclavonians threatened to pillage
   the shops. Bonaparte acquiesced in the proposition submitted by the
   deputies, who promised to verify the loss which had been sustained
   by pillage.

                 NOTE.

   Bonaparte, stopping before the gates of Turin, Parma, Rome, and
   Vienna, offered peace when he knew he would get nothing but
   more victories—Bonaparte, whose every action shows respect
   for religion, morality, and the elderly; who, instead of dishonoring the Venetians and humiliating their
   republic, showered them with kindness and cared deeply about their glory— 
   is this the same Bonaparte who is accused of destroying the ancient government of Venice,
   democratizing Genoa, and even interfering in the matters of the wise and respected people of the Swiss Cantons? Bonaparte had
   crossed the Tagliamento and entered Germany when uprisings began in the Venetian States; these uprisings were,
   therefore, against Bonaparte's plans; surely he could not support them. While he was in Germany, the Venetians
   killed more than four hundred French troops, expelled their forces from Verona, assassinated the unfortunate Laugier, and displayed the actions of a fanatical armed group. He returned to Italy;
   and upon his arrival, as the winds calm at the presence of Neptune, all of Italy, which was in turmoil
   and armed, was brought back to order.

   However, Bonaparte's deputies drafted different articles based on the country's situation, aiming to prevent not a revolution in the government, since the government was essentially defunct, and had died a natural death, but a crisis, and to save the city from chaos, anarchy, and looting. Bonaparte sent a portion of his army to protect Venice from being looted and massacred. All
   the battalions were in the streets of Venice, the troublemakers were subdued, and the looting stopped. Property and commerce were safeguarded when General Baragney d'Hilliers entered Venice with his division. Bonaparte, as usual, spared bloodshed, and acted as Venice's protector. While the French troops remained, they behaved peacefully and only intervened to support the provisional government.

   Bonaparte couldn't tell the Venetian deputies, who came to ask for his protection and help against the populace wanting to rob them, "I can't get involved in your affairs." He couldn't say this since Venice and all its territories were truly the battleground; being behind the army of Italy, the Republic of Venice was under the jurisdiction of that army. The rights of war give a general the authority of supreme police over the regions where war occurs. As the great Frederick said, "There are no neutrals in war."
   Misguided advocates and talkers have asked, in the Club of Clichy,
   why we occupy Venetian territory. These speakers should study war, and they would understand that the Adige, the Brenta, and the Tagliamento, where we've been battling for two years, are in the Venetian States. But, gentlemen of Clichy, we can clearly see your intent. You criticize the army of Italy for overcoming all challenges—for conquering all of Italy for having twice crossed the Alps—for marching on Vienna and forcing Austria to acknowledge the Republic that, you, men of Clichy, wish to destroy. You accuse Bonaparte, I see, for achieving peace.
   But I know you, and I speak on behalf of eighty thousand soldiers.
   The time has passed when petty advocates and miserable speakers could persuade soldiers to revolt. However, if you force them, the soldiers of the army of Italy will quickly appear at the Barrier of Clichy, with their General. But beware if they do!

   Bonaparte arrived at Palma-Nova and issued a manifesto on May 2, 1797. Upon reaching Mestre, where he stationed his troops, the
   Government sent three deputies to him with a decree from the Great Council, without Bonaparte having requested it and without him
   considering any changes in the Government of that country: The governor of Venice was an elderly man, ninety-nine years old, confined by illness to his room. Everyone recognized the need to renew this Government, which had existed for twelve hundred years, and to simplify its structure, to maintain its independence, honor, and glory. It was necessary to discuss, first, how to renew the Government; secondly, how to atone for the massacre of the French, an injustice that everyone acknowledged.

   After meeting with the deputies at Mestre, Bonaparte told them that to achieve satisfaction for the murder of his fellow soldiers, he wanted the Great Council to arrest the inquisitors. He then granted them an armistice and designated Milan as the conference location. The deputies arrived in Milan on the ... A negotiation began to re-establish harmony between the governments. However, chaos, with all its horrors, plagued the city of Venice. Ten thousand Sclavonians threatened to loot the shops. Bonaparte agreed to the proposition put forward by the deputies, who promised to assess the losses incurred due to the looting.







      Bonaparte also addressed a manifesto to the Doge, which appeared in all
      the public papers. It contained fifteen articles of complaint, and was
      followed by a decree ordering the French Minister to leave Venice, the
      Venetian agents to leave Lombard, and the Lion of St. Mark to be pulled
      down in all the Continental territories of Venice.
    
Bonaparte also issued a manifesto to the Doge, which was published in all the public papers. It included fifteen complaints and was followed by a decree mandating that the French Minister leave Venice, the Venetian representatives leave Lombard, and that the Lion of St. Mark be taken down in all the Continental territories of Venice.







      The General-in-Chief now openly manifested his resolution of marching on
      Paris; and this disposition, which was well known in the army, was soon
      communicated to Vienna. At this period a letter from the Emperor Francis
      II. to his brother, the Grand Duke of Tuscany, was intercepted by
      Bonaparte. I translated the letter, which proved to him that Francis II.
      was acquainted with his project. He likewise saw with pleasure the
      assurances which the Emperor gave his brother of his love of peace, as
      well as the wavering of the imperial resolves, and the incertitude
      respecting the fate of the Italian princes, which the Emperor easily
      perceived to depend on Bonaparte. The Emperor's letter was as follows:—
    
The General-in-Chief clearly showed his determination to march on Paris, and this intention, which was well known in the army, was quickly communicated to Vienna. At that time, a letter from Emperor Francis II. to his brother, the Grand Duke of Tuscany, was intercepted by Bonaparte. I translated the letter, which revealed to him that Francis II. was aware of his plan. He also took note of the assurances the Emperor gave his brother about his desire for peace, as well as the indecision of the imperial decisions and the uncertainty regarding the fate of the Italian princes, which the Emperor understood depended on Bonaparte. The Emperor's letter was as follows:—






   MY DEAR BROTHER—I punctually received your third letter, containing
   a description of your unhappy and delicate situation. You may be
   assured that I perceive it as clearly as you do yourself; and I pity
   you the more because, in truth, I do not know what advice to give
   you. You are, like me, the victim of the former inactivity of the
   princes of Italy, who ought, at once, to have acted with all their
   united forces, while I still possessed Mantua. If Bonaparte's
   project be, as I learn, to establish republics in Italy, this is
   likely to end in spreading republicanism over the whole country. I
   have already commenced negotiations for peace, and the preliminaries
   are ratified. If the French observe them as strictly as I do, and
   will do, then your situation will be improved; but already the
   French are beginning to disregard them. The principal problem which
   remains to be solved is, whether the French Directory approve of
   Bonaparte's proceedings, and whether the latter, as appears by some
   papers distributed through his army, is not disposed to revolt
   against his country, which also seems to be probable, from his
   severe conduct towards Switzerland, notwithstanding the assurances
   of the Directory, that he had been ordered to leave the country
   untouched. If this should be the case, new and innumerable
   difficulties may arise. Under these circumstances I can, at
   present, advise nothing; for, as to myself, it is only time and the
   circumstances of the moment which can point out how I am to act.

   There is nothing new here. We are all well; but the heat is
   extraordinary. Always retain your friendship and love for me.
   Make my compliments to your wife, and believe me ever

        Your best Friend and Brother,
                    FRANCIS.

   HETZENDORF, July 20, 1797.

   MY DEAR BROTHER—I've received your third letter on time, detailing your unfortunate and sensitive situation. You can be sure that I understand it as well as you do; I feel for you even more because, honestly, I’m not sure what advice to give. Like me, you’re suffering because of the past inaction of the princes of Italy, who should have united their forces when I still held Mantua. If Bonaparte's plan is to set up republics in Italy, it’s likely to spread republicanism across the entire country. I’ve already started peace negotiations, and the preliminaries are ratified. If the French adhere to them as strictly as I do, then your situation will improve; but the French are already beginning to ignore them. The main issue that remains is whether the French Directory supports Bonaparte's actions, and whether he, as indicated by some papers circulated among his army, is not planning to act against his own country. This also seems likely, given his harsh treatment of Switzerland, despite the Directory's assurance that he was ordered to leave the country untouched. If this is the case, many new difficulties could arise. Under these circumstances, I can currently offer no advice, as only time and the situation will reveal how I should act.

   There’s nothing new here. We are all well, but the heat is extraordinary. Always remember your friendship and love for me. Please send my regards to your wife, and believe me forever

        Your best Friend and Brother,
                    FRANCIS.

   HETZENDORF, July 20, 1797.








 


 




















      CHAPTER VII.
    



      1797.
    
1797.


   Unfounded reports—Carnot—Capitulation of Mantua—General Clarke—
   The Directory yields to Bonaparte—Berthier—Arrival of Eugène
   Beauharnais at Milan—Comte Delannay d'Entraigues—His interview
   with Bonaparte—Seizure of his papers—Copy of one describing a
   conversation between him and Comte de Montgaillard—The Emperor
   Francis—The Prince de Condé and General Pichegru.

   Unfounded reports—Carnot—Capitulation of Mantua—General Clarke—  
   The Directory gives in to Bonaparte—Berthier—Arrival of Eugène  
   Beauharnais in Milan—Comte Delannay d'Entraigues—His meeting  
   with Bonaparte—Seizure of his papers—Copy of one detailing a  
   conversation between him and Comte de Montgaillard—The Emperor  
   Francis—The Prince de Condé and General Pichegru.







      While Bonaparte was expressing his opinion on his campaigns and the
      injustice with which they had been criticised, it was generally believed
      that Carnot dictated to him from a closet in the Luxembourg all the plans
      of his operations, and that Berthier was at his right hand, without whom,
      notwithstanding Carnot's plans, which were often mere romances, he would
      have been greatly embarrassed. This twofold misrepresentation was very
      current for some time; and, notwithstanding it was contrary to the
      evidence of facts, it met with much credence, particularly abroad. There
      was, however, no foundation for the opinion: Let us render to Caesar that
      which is Caesar's due. Bonaparte was a creator in the art of war, and no
      imitator. That no man was superior to him in that art is incontestable. At
      the commencement of the glorious campaign in Italy the Directory certainly
      sent out instructions to him; but he always followed his own plans, and
      continually, wrote back that all would be lost if movements conceived at a
      distance from the scene of action were to be blindly executed. He also
      offered to resign. At length the Directory perceived the impossibility of
      prescribing operations of war according to the view of persons in Paris;
      and when I became the secretary of the General-in-Chief I saw a despatch
      of the Directory, dated May, 1796, committing the whole plan of the
      campaign to his judgment; and assuredly there was not a single operation
      or movement which did not originate with him. Carnot was obliged to yield
      to his firmness. When the Directory, towards the end of 1796, felt
      disposed to treat for peace, General Clarke, appointed to conclude the
      armistice, was authorised, in case Mantua should not be taken before the
      negotiation was brought to a close, to propose leaving the blockade in
      statu quo. Had such a condition been adopted it would doubtless had been
      stipulated that the Emperor of Austria should be allowed to provision the
      garrison and inhabitants of the city day by day. Bonaparte, convinced that
      an armistice without Mantua would by no means conduce to peace, earnestly
      opposed such a condition. He carried his point; Mantua capitulated, and
      the result is well known. Yet he was not blind to the hazards of war;
      while preparing, during the blockade, an assault on Mantua, he wrote thus
      to the Directory: "A bold stroke of this nature depends absolutely for
      success on a dog or a goose." This was about a question of surprise.
    
While Bonaparte was sharing his thoughts on his campaigns and the unfair criticism they received, people generally believed that Carnot was secretly dictating all his plans from a closet in the Luxembourg and that Berthier was right beside him; without Berthier, despite Carnot's often fanciful plans, Bonaparte would have been in serious trouble. This twofold misconception was widely accepted for a while, and even though it contradicted the evidence, it gained a lot of credibility, especially abroad. However, there was no basis for this opinion: Let’s give credit where credit is due. Bonaparte was a pioneer in military strategy, not a copycat. It's undeniable that no one surpassed him in that field. At the beginning of the successful campaign in Italy, the Directory did send him instructions, but he always pursued his own strategies and repeatedly warned that everything would be lost if distant leaders blindly executed plans without being present. He even offered to resign. Eventually, the Directory realized it was impossible to dictate military operations based on the perspective of people in Paris; when I became the secretary to the General-in-Chief, I came across a dispatch from the Directory, dated May 1796, granting him complete authority over the campaign plan, and there wasn’t a single operation or maneuver that didn’t originate with him. Carnot had to concede to his determination. When the Directory, towards the end of 1796, wanted to negotiate peace, General Clarke, tasked with affirming the armistice, was instructed that if Mantua wasn’t captured before the talks concluded, he could propose leaving the blockade as it was. If that condition had been accepted, it likely would have been agreed that the Emperor of Austria could supply the garrison and residents of the city daily. Bonaparte, convinced that an armistice without Mantua would not lead to peace, strongly opposed this condition. He got his way; Mantua surrendered, and the outcome is well known. Yet, he wasn’t naive about the risks of war; while planning an attack on Mantua during the blockade, he wrote to the Directory: "A bold maneuver like this completely relies on luck." This referred to the element of surprise.







      Bonaparte was exceedingly sensitive to the rumours which reached him
      respecting Carnot and Berthier. He one day said to me: "What gross
      stupidity, is this? It is very well to say to a general, 'Depart for
      Italy, gain battles, and sign a peace at Vienna;' but the execution that
      is not so easy. I never attached any value to the plans which the
      Directory sent me. Too many circumstances occur on the spot to modify
      them. The movement of a single corps of the enemy's army may confound a
      whole plan arranged by the fireside. Only fools can believe such stuff! As
      for Berthier, since you have been with me, you see what he is—he is
      a blockhead. Yet it is he who does it all; it is he who gathers a great
      part of the glory of the army of Italy." I told him that this erroneous
      opinion could not last long; that each person would be allowed his merit,
      and that at least posterity would judge rightly. This observation seemed
      to please him.
    
Bonaparte was highly sensitive to the rumors he heard about Carnot and Berthier. One day, he said to me, "What utter nonsense is this? It's easy to tell a general, 'Go to Italy, win battles, and sign a peace in Vienna;' but actually doing it is a whole different story. I never valued the plans the Directory sent me. Too many things happen on the ground that can change everything. The movement of just one enemy unit can derail an entire plan made from a distance. Only fools believe that! As for Berthier, since you've been with me, you see what he is—he's a fool. Yet it's he who does everything; he's the one who gets much of the glory for the army in Italy." I told him that this mistaken view wouldn't last long; everyone would get their due credit, and at least future generations would judge fairly. He seemed to appreciate that comment.







      Berthier was a man full of honour, courage, and probity, and exceedingly
      regular in the performance of his duties. Bonaparte's attachment to him
      arose more from habit than liking. Berthier did not concede with
      affability, and refused with harshness. His abrupt, egotistic, and
      careless manners did not, however, create him many enemies, but, at the
      same time, did not make him many friends. In consequence of our frequent
      intercourse he had contracted the friendly practice of speaking to me in
      the second person singular; but he never wrote to me in that style. He was
      perfectly acquainted with the disposition of all the corps, and could name
      their commanders and their respective forces. Day or night he was always
      at hand and made out with clearness all the secondary orders which
      resulted from the dispositions of the General-in-Chief. In fact, he was,
      an excellent head of the staff of an army; but that is all the praise that
      can be given, and indeed he wished for no greater. He had such entire
      confidence in Bonaparte, and looked up to him with so much admiration,
      that he never would have presumed to oppose his plans or give any advise.
      Berthier's talent was very limited, and of a special nature; his character
      was one of extreme weakness. Bonaparte's friendship for him and the
      frequency of his name in the bulletins and official despatches have unduly
      elevated his reputation. Bonaparte, giving his opinion to the Directory
      respecting the generals employed in his army, said, "Berthier has talents,
      activity, courage, character—all in his favour." This was in 1796.
      He then made an eagle of him; at St. Helena he called him a goose. He
      should neither have, raised him so high nor sunk him so low.
    
Berthier was a man of honor, courage, and integrity, and he consistently fulfilled his duties. Bonaparte's attachment to him came more from familiarity than affection. Berthier wasn't very accommodating and often refused requests bluntly. His abrupt, self-centered, and indifferent demeanor didn’t earn him many enemies, but it also didn’t win him many friends. Because of our regular interactions, he had taken to addressing me informally, but he never wrote to me that way. He had a thorough understanding of the organization of all the corps and could name their commanders and respective forces. Day or night, he was always available and clearly conveyed all the secondary orders resulting from the General-in-Chief's directives. In fact, he was an excellent head of an army’s staff; however, that is the extent of the praise he deserves, and he didn’t seek anything more. He had complete confidence in Bonaparte and admired him so much that he would never think of opposing his plans or offering advice. Berthier’s abilities were quite limited and specific; his character was extremely weak. Bonaparte's friendship and the frequent mentions of him in bulletins and official dispatches unfairly boosted his reputation. When Bonaparte expressed his thoughts to the Directory about the generals in his army, he said, "Berthier has talents, energy, courage, character—all in his favor." This was in 1796. He then praised him highly, but at St. Helena, he called him a fool. He shouldn’t have raised him so high or lowered him so far.







      Berthier neither merited the one nor the other. Bonaparte was a man of
      habit; he was much attached to all the people about him, and did not like
      new faces. Berthier loved him. He carried out his orders well, and that
      enabled him to pass off with his small portion of talent.
    
Berthier deserved neither of them. Bonaparte was a creature of habit; he was very close to everyone around him and disliked unfamiliar faces. Berthier loved him. He followed orders effectively, which allowed him to get by with his limited talent.







      It was about this time that young Beauharnais came to Milan. He was
      seventeen years old. He had lived in Paris with his mother since the
      departure of Bonaparte. On his arrival he immediately entered the service
      as 'aide de camp' to the General-in-Chief, who felt for him an affection
      which was justified by his good qualities.
    
It was around this time that young Beauharnais arrived in Milan. He was seventeen years old. He had been living in Paris with his mother since Bonaparte left. Upon his arrival, he quickly became the aide-de-camp to the General-in-Chief, who had a fondness for him that was well-deserved due to his good qualities.







      Comte Delaunay d'Entraigues, well known in the French Revolution, held a
      diplomatic post at Venice when that city was threatened by the French.
      Aware of his being considered the agent of all the machinations then
      existing against France, and especially against the army of Italy, he
      endeavoured to escape; but the city being, surrounded, he was seized,
      together with all his papers. The apparently frank manners of the Count
      pleased Bonaparte, who treated him with indulgence. His papers were
      restored, with the exception of three relating to political subjects. He
      afterwards fled to Switzerland, and ungratefully represented himself as
      having been oppressed by Bonaparte. His false statements have induced many
      writers to make of him an heroic victim. He was assassinated by his own
      servant in 1802.
    
Count Delaunay d'Entraigues, who was well-known during the French Revolution, held a diplomatic position in Venice when the city was threatened by the French. Aware that he was seen as the agent behind the various plots against France, especially targeting the army in Italy, he tried to escape. However, the city was surrounded, and he was captured along with all his documents. The Count’s seemingly open demeanor impressed Bonaparte, who treated him leniently. His papers were returned, except for three that were related to political matters. He later fled to Switzerland and falsely claimed to have been mistreated by Bonaparte. His misleading statements led many writers to portray him as a heroic victim. He was murdered by his own servant in 1802.







      I kept a copy of one of his most interesting papers. It has been much
      spoken of, and Fauche-Borel has, I believe, denied its authenticity and
      the truth of its contents. The manner in which it fell into the hands of
      the General-in-Chief, the importance attached to it by d'Entraigues, the
      differences I have observed between the manuscript I copied and versions
      which I have since read, and the knowledge of its authenticity, having
      myself transcribed it from the handwriting of the Count, who in my
      presence vouched for the truth of the facts it details—all these
      circumstances induce me to insert it here, and compel me to doubt that it
      was, as Fauche-Borel asserted, a fabrication.
    
I kept a copy of one of his most interesting papers. It has been talked about a lot, and I believe Fauche-Borel has denied its authenticity and the truth of its content. The way it ended up in the hands of the General-in-Chief, the importance d'Entraigues placed on it, the differences I've noticed between the manuscript I copied and other versions I've read since, and my own knowledge of its authenticity—all these reasons lead me to include it here and make me doubt Fauche-Borel's claim that it was a fabrication.







      This manuscript is entitled, 'My Conversation with Comte de Montgaillard,
      on the 4th of December 1796, from Six in the Afternoon till midnight, in
      the presence of the Abbe Dumontel.'
    
This manuscript is titled, 'My Conversation with Comte de Montgaillard, on December 4, 1796, from 6 PM until midnight, in the presence of Abbé Dumontel.'







      [On my copy are written the words, "Extracts from this conversation, made
      by me, from the original." I omitted what I thought unimportant, and
      transcribed only the most interesting passages. Montgaillard spoke of his
      escape, of his flight to England, of his return to France, of his second
      departure, and finally of his arrival at Bale in August 1795.]
    
[On my copy, I've written the words, "Extracts from this conversation, made by me, from the original." I left out what I considered unimportant and transcribed only the most interesting parts. Montgaillard talked about his escape, his flight to England, his return to France, his second departure, and finally his arrival in Bale in August 1795.]






   The Prince de Condé soon afterwards, he said, called me to Mulheim,
   and knowing the connections I had had in France, proposed that I
   should sound General Pichegru, whose headquarters were at Altkirch,
   where he then was, surrounded by four representatives of the
   Convention.

   I immediately went to Neufchatel, taking with me four or five
   hundred Louis. I cast my eyes on Fauche-Borel, the King's printer
   at Neufchatel, and also yours and mine, as the instrument by which
   to make the first overture, and I selected as his colleague M.
   Courant, a native of Neufchatel. I persuaded them to undertake the
   business: I supplied them with instructions and passports. They
   were foreigners: so I furnished them with all the necessary
   documents to enable them to travel in France as foreign merchants
   and purchasers of national property. I went to Bale to wait for
   news from them.

   On the 13th of August Fauche and Courant set out for the
   headquarters at Altkirch. They remained there eight days without
   finding an opportunity to speak to Pichegru, who was surrounded by
   representatives and generals. Pichegru observed them, and seeing
   them continually wheresoever he went, he conjectured that they had
   something to say to him, and he called out in a loud voice, while
   passing them, "I am going to Huningen." Fauche contrived to throw
   himself in his way at the end of a corridor. Pichegru observed him,
   and fixed his eyes upon him, and although it rained in torrents, he
   said aloud, "I am going to dine at the chateau of Madame Salomon."
   This chateau was three leagues from Huningen, and Madame Salomon was
   Pichegru's mistress.

   Fauche set off directly to the chateau, and begged to speak with
   General Pichegru. He told the general that, being in the possession
   of some of J. J. Rousseau's manuscripts, he wished to publish them
   and dedicate them to him. "Very good," said Pichegru; "but I should
   like to read them first; for Rousseau professed principles of
   liberty in which I do not concur, and with which I should not like
   to have my name connected."—"But," said Fauche, "I have something
   else to speak to you about."—"What is it, and on whose behalf?"—
   "On behalf of the Prince de Condé."—"Be silent, then, and follow
   me."

   He conducted Fauche alone into a retired cabinet, and said to
   him, "Explain yourself; what does Monseigneur le Prince de Condé
   wish to communicate to me?" Fauche was embarrassed, and stammered
   out something unintelligible. "Compose yourself." said Pichegru;
   "my sentiments are the same, as the Prince de Condé's. What does he
   desire of me?" Fauche, encouraged by these words, replied, "The
   Prince wishes to join you. He counts on you, and wishes to connect
   himself with you."

   "These are vague and unmeaning words," observed Pichegru. "All this
   amounts to nothing. Go back, and ask for written instructions, and
   return in three days to my headquarters at Altkirch. You will find
   me alone precisely at six o'clock in the evening."

   Fauche immediately departed, arrived at Bale, and informed me of all
   that had passed. I spent the night in writing a letter to General
   Pichegru. (The Prince de Condé, who was invested with all the
   powers of Louis XVIII, except that of granting the 'cordon-bleu',
   had, by a note in his own handwriting, deputed to me all his powers,
   to enable me to maintain a negotiation with General Pichegru).

   I therefore wrote to the general, stating, in the outset, everything
   that was calculated to awaken in him that noble sentiment of pride
   which is the instinct of great minds; and after pointing out to him
   the vast good it was in his power to effect, I spoke of the
   gratitude of the King, and the benefit he would confer on his
   country by restoring royalty. I told him that his Majesty would
   make him a marshal of France, and governor of Alsace, as no one
   could better govern the province than he who had so valiantly
   defended it. I added that he would have the 'cordon-rouge', the
   Chateau de Chambord, with its park, and twelve pieces of cannon
   taken from the Austrians, a million of ready money, 200,000 livres
   per annum, and an hotel in Paris; that the town of Arbors,
   Pichegru's native place, should bear his name, and be exempt from
   all taxation for twenty-five years; that a pension of 200,000 livres
   would be granted to him, with half reversion to his wife, and 50,000
   livres to his heirs for ever, until the extinction of his family.
   Such were the offers, made in the name of the King, to General
   Pichegru. (Than followed the boons to be granted to the officers
   and soldiers, an amnesty to the people, etc). I added that the
   Prince de Coude desired that he would proclaim the King in the
   camps, surrender the city of Huningen to him, and join him for the
   purpose of marching on Paris.

   Pichegru, having read my letter with great attention, said to
   Fauche, "This is all very well; but who is this M. de Montgaillard
   who talks of being thus authorised? I neither know him nor his
   signature. Is he the author?"—"Yes," replied Fauche. "But," said
   Pichegru, "I must, before making any negotiation on my part, be
   assured that the Prince de Condé, with whose handwriting I am well
   acquainted, approves of all that has been written is his name by M.
   de Montgaillard. Return directly to M. de Montgaillard, and tell
   him to communicate my answer to the Prince."

   Fauche immediately departed, leaving M. Courant with Pichegru. He
   arrived at Bale at nine o'clock in the evening. I set off directly
   for Malheim, the Prince de Condé's headquarters, and arrived there
   at half-past twelve. The Prince was in bed, but I awoke him. He
   made me sit down by his bedside, and our conference then commenced.

   After having informed the Prince of the state of affairs, all that
   remained was to prevail on him to write to General Pichegru to
   confirm the truth of what had been stated in his name. This matter,
   which appeared so simple, and so little liable to objection,
   occupied the whole night. The Prince, as brave a man as can
   possibly be, inherited nothing from the great Condé but his
   undaunted courage. In other respects he is the most insignificant
   of men; without resources of mind, or decision of character;
   surrounded by men of mediocrity, and even baseness; and though he
   knows them well, he suffers himself to be governed by them.

   It required nine hours of hard exertion on my part to get him to
   write to General Pichegru a letter of eight lines. 1st. He did not
   wish it to be in his handwriting. 2d. He objected to dating it
   3d. He was unwilling to call him General, lest he should recognise
   the republic by giving that title. 4th. He did not like to address
   it, or affix his seal to it.

   At length he consented to all, and wrote to Pichegru that he might
   place full confidence in the letters of the Comte de Montgaillard.
   When all this was settled, after great difficulty, the Prince next
   hesitated about sending the letter; but at length he yielded. I set
   off for Bale, and despatched Fauche to Altkirch, to General
   Pichegru.

   The general, after reading the letter of eight lines, and
   recognising the handwriting and signature, immediately returned it
   to Fauche, saying, "I have seen the signature: that is enough for
   me. The word of the Prince is a pledge with which every Frenchman
   ought to be satisfied. Take back his letter." He then inquired
   what was the Prince's wish. Fauche explained that he wished—1st.
   That Pichegru should proclaim the King to his troops, and hoist the
   White flag. 2d. That he should deliver up Huningen to the Prince.
   Pichegru objected to this. "I will never take part in such a plot,"
   said he; "I have no wish to make the third volume of La Fayette and
   Dumouriez. I know my resources; they are as certain as they are
   vast. Their roots are not only in my army, but in Paris, in the
   Convention, in the departments, and in the armies of those generals,
   my colleagues, who think as I do. I wish to do nothing by halves.
   There must be a complete end of the present state of things. France
   cannot continue a Republic. She must have a king, and that king
   must be Louis XVIII. But we must not commence the counter-
   revolution until we are certain of effecting it. 'Surely and
   rightly' is my motto. The Prince's plan leads to nothing. He would
   be driven from Huningen in four days, and in fifteen I should be
   lost. My army is composed both of good men and bad. We must
   distinguish between them, and, by a bold stroke, assure the former
   of the impossibility of drawing back, and that their only safety
   lies in success. For this purpose I propose to pass the Rhine, at
   any place and any time that may be thought necessary. In the
   advance I will place those officers on whom I can depend, and who
   are of my way of thinking. I will separate the bad, and place them
   in situations where they can do no harm, and their position shall be
   such as to prevent them from uniting. That done, as soon as I shall
   be on the other side of the Rhine, I will proclaim the King, and
   hoist the white flag. Condé's corps and the Emperor's army will
   then join us. I will immediately repass the Rhine, and re-enter
   France. The fortresses will be surrendered, and will be held in the
   King's name by the Imperial troops. Having joined Condé's army, I
   immediately advance. All my means now develop themselves on every
   side. We march upon Paris, and in a fortnight will be there. But
   it is necessary that you should know that you must give the French
   soldier wine and a crown in his hand if you would have him cry 'Vive
   le Roi! Nothing must be wanting at the first moment. My army must
   be well paid as far as the fourth or fifth march in the French
   territory. There go and tell all this to the Prince, show my
   handwriting, and bring me back his answer."

   During these conferences Pichegru was surrounded by four
   representatives of the people, at the head of whom was Merlin de
   Thionville, the most insolent and the most ferocious of inquisitors.
   These men, having the orders of the Committee, pressed Pichegru to
   pass the Rhine and go and besiege Manheim, where Merlin had an
   understanding with the inhabitants. Thus, if on the one hand the
   Committee by its orders made Pichegru wish to hasten the execution
   of his plan, on the other he had not a moment to lose; for to delay
   obeying the orders of the four representatives was to render himself
   suspected. Every consideration, therefore, called upon the Prince
   to decide, and decide promptly. Good sense required him also to do
   another thing, namely, to examine without prejudice what sort of man
   Pichegru was, to consider the nature of the sacrifice he made, and
   what were his propositions. Europe acknowledged his talents, and he
   had placed the Prince in a condition to judge of his good faith.
   Besides, his conduct and his plan afforded fresh proofs of his
   sincerity. By passing the Rhine and placing himself between the
   armies of Condé and Wurmser, he rendered desertion impossible; and,
   if success did not attend his attempt, his own acts forced him to
   become an emigrant. He left in the power of his fierce enemies his
   wife, his father, his children. Everything bore testimony to his
   honesty; the talents he had shown were a pledge for his genius, his
   genius for his resources; and the sacrifices he would have to make
   in case of failure proved that he was confident of success.

   What stupid conceit was it for any one to suppose himself better
   able to command Pichegru's army than Pichegru himself!—to pretend
   to be better acquainted with the frontier provinces than Pichegru,
   who commanded them, and had placed his friends in them as commanders
   of the towns! This self-conceit, however, ruined the monarchy at
   this time, as well as at so many others. The Prince de Condé, after
   reading the plan, rejected it in toto. To render it successful it
   was necessary to make the Austrians parties to it. This Pichegru
   exacted, but the Prince of Condé would not hear a word of it,
   wishing to have confined to himself the glory of effecting the
   counter-revolution. He replied to Pichegru by a few observations,
   and concluded his answer by returning to his first plan—that
   Pichegru should proclaim the King without passing the Rhine, and
   should give up Huningen; that then the army of Condé by itself, and
   without the aid of the Austrians, would join him. In that case he
   could promise 100,000 crowns in louis, which he had at Bale, and
   1,400,000 livres, which he had in good bills payable at sight.

   No argument or entreaty had any effect on the Prince de Condo. The
   idea of communicating his plan to Wurmser and sharing his glory with
   him rendered him blind and deaf to every consideration. However, it
   was necessary to report to Pichegru the observations of the Prince
   de Condé, and Courant was commissioned to do so.

   The Prince de Condé soon afterwards told me to come to Mulheim, and knowing my connections in France, he suggested that I should reach out to General Pichegru, whose headquarters were in Altkirch, where he was surrounded by four representatives of the Convention. 

   I immediately went to Neufchatel, taking with me four or five hundred Louis. I considered Fauche-Borel, the King’s printer in Neufchatel, as well as your printer, to be the right person to make the first contact, and I teamed him up with M. Courant, a native of Neufchatel. I convinced them to take on the task, providing them with instructions and passports. Since they were foreigners, I made sure they had all the necessary documents to travel in France as foreign merchants and purchasers of national property. I went to Bale to wait for updates from them.

   On August 13, Fauche and Courant set out for Altkirch. They stayed there for eight days without finding a chance to speak to Pichegru, who was surrounded by representatives and generals. Pichegru noticed them, and seeing them constantly wherever he went, he guessed they had something to say to him. As he passed by, he called out loudly, "I am going to Huningen." Fauche managed to step into his path at the end of a hallway. Pichegru saw him and stared at him, and even though it was pouring rain, he said aloud, "I am going to dine at Madame Salomon's chateau." This chateau was three leagues from Huningen, and Madame Salomon was Pichegru's mistress.

   Fauche immediately headed to the chateau and requested to speak with General Pichegru. He told the general that he had some manuscripts by J. J. Rousseau and wished to publish them, dedicating them to him. "That’s fine," said Pichegru, "but I would like to read them first. Rousseau wrote about principles of liberty that I disagree with and wouldn’t want my name associated with."—"But," Fauche said, "I have something else I want to discuss."—"What is it, and on whose behalf?"—"On behalf of the Prince de Condé."—"Then be quiet and follow me."

   He took Fauche alone into a private room and said, "Explain yourself; what does Monseigneur le Prince de Condé want to tell me?" Fauche was flustered and stumbled over his words. "Calm down," said Pichegru; "I share the same sentiments as Prince de Condé. What does he want from me?" Gaining confidence from these words, Fauche replied, "The Prince wants to ally with you. He counts on you and wishes to connect with you."

   "Those are vague and meaningless words," observed Pichegru. "That doesn’t amount to anything. Go back and ask for written instructions, and come back in three days to my headquarters at Altkirch. You will find me alone at six o'clock in the evening."

   Fauche left immediately, got to Bale, and informed me of everything that had transpired. I spent the night writing a letter to General Pichegru. (The Prince de Condé, who held all the powers of Louis XVIII except for granting the 'cordon-bleu', had, by a note in his own handwriting, delegated to me all his powers to negotiate with General Pichegru).

   I wrote to the general, starting with everything that would invoke that noble sense of pride inherent in great minds; after highlighting the immense good he could achieve, I spoke of the King's gratitude and the benefit he would bring to his country by restoring the monarchy. I told him that His Majesty would make him a Marshal of France and Governor of Alsace, as no one could govern the province better than him, who had valiantly defended it. I added that he would receive the 'cordon-rouge', the Château de Chambord with its park, twelve cannon taken from the Austrians, a million in cash, 200,000 livres per year, and a hotel in Paris; the town of Arbors, Pichegru's birthplace, would bear his name and be exempt from all taxes for twenty-five years; a pension of 200,000 livres would be granted to him, with half going to his wife, and 50,000 livres to his heirs forever until his family line ends. These were the offers, made on behalf of the King, to General Pichegru. (Then followed the perks for the officers and soldiers, amnesty for the public, etc.). I added that the Prince de Condé wanted him to proclaim the King among the troops, hand over the city of Huningen to him, and join him to march on Paris.

   Pichegru, after reading my letter carefully, said to Fauche, "This is all good, but who is this M. de Montgaillard who claims to be authorized? I don’t know him or his signature. Is he the author?"—"Yes," Fauche replied. "But," Pichegru said, "before I make any negotiations on my end, I need to be assured that Prince de Condé, whose handwriting I know well, approves of everything that has been written in his name by M. de Montgaillard. Go directly back to M. de Montgaillard and tell him to communicate my response to the Prince."

   Fauche immediately left, leaving M. Courant with Pichegru. He reached Bale at nine o'clock in the evening. I set off straight for Malheim, the headquarters of the Prince de Condé, and arrived there at half-past twelve. The Prince was in bed, but I woke him up. He had me sit next to him in bed, and our discussion began.

   After updating the Prince on the situation, all that was left was to convince him to write to General Pichegru to confirm the accuracy of what had been said in his name. This matter, which seemed so simple and uncontroversial, took up the entire night. The Prince, as brave a man as could be, inherited nothing from the great Condé except his unwavering courage. In other respects, he is the most insignificant man; lacking mental resources or decisiveness, surrounded by mediocrity and even lesser men, and despite knowing them well, he allows himself to be managed by them.

   It took me nine hours of intense effort to get him to write an eight-line letter to General Pichegru. First, he didn't want it in his handwriting. Second, he objected to dating it. Third, he was reluctant to refer to Pichegru as General, fearing it would recognize the Republic by giving that title. Fourth, he didn’t want to address it or put his seal on it.

   Finally, he agreed to all of it and wrote to Pichegru that he could place full trust in the letters of Comte de Montgaillard. Once all of this was settled, after considerable difficulty, the Prince hesitated about sending the letter; but in the end, he agreed. I set off for Bale and sent Fauche to Altkirch to General Pichegru.

   The general, after reading the eight-line letter and recognizing the handwriting and signature, immediately returned it to Fauche, saying, "I have seen the signature: that is enough for me. The word of the Prince is a guarantee that every Frenchman should trust. Take back his letter." He then asked what the Prince’s wishes were. Fauche explained that he wanted—1st. For Pichegru to proclaim the King to his troops and raise the White flag. 2nd. That he should surrender Huningen to the Prince. Pichegru refused. "I will never be part of such a plot," he said; "I have no desire to create the third volume of La Fayette and Dumouriez. I know my resources; they are as certain as they are extensive. Their roots lie not only in my army but also in Paris, in the Convention, in the departments, and in the armies of those generals who share my views. I want to do nothing halfway. There must be a complete end to the current situation. France cannot remain a Republic. It must have a king, and that king must be Louis XVIII. But we should not start the counter-revolution until we are confident of success. 'Surely and rightly' is my motto. The Prince's plan will lead to nothing. He would be ousted from Huningen in four days, and I would be defeated within fifteen. My army is made up of both good and bad men. We need to identify them and, with a bold move, assure the good that there is no turning back, and that their only safety lies in success. For this purpose, I propose to cross the Rhine at any point and any time considered necessary. In advance, I will position those officers I can trust, who share my perspective. I will isolate the bad and place them in situations where they can’t do harm, ensuring their positions prevent them from uniting. Once that is underway and I am across the Rhine, I will proclaim the King and raise the white flag. Condé's forces and the Emperor's army will then join us. I will immediately cross back over the Rhine and return to France. The fortresses will surrender and will be held in the King's name by the Imperial troops. After joining Condé’s army, we will push forward. All my resources will now be deployed everywhere. We will advance on Paris, and in two weeks we’ll be there. But you should know that to get the French soldier to shout 'Vive le Roi!', you need to give him wine and a crown in his hand from the start. Nothing must be lacking at that first moment. My army must be well-paid for the first four or five marches into French territory. Go and tell all of this to the Prince, show him my handwriting, and bring me back his response."

   During these discussions, Pichegru was surrounded by four representatives of the people, led by Merlin de Thionville, the most arrogant and ruthless of inquisitors. These men, armed with orders from the Committee, pressed Pichegru to cross the Rhine and besiege Mannheim, where Merlin had made arrangements with the residents. Thus, the Committee's orders pushed Pichegru to hasten the execution of his plan, while simultaneously giving him no time to waste, as delaying in obeying the orders of the four representatives would make him suspicious. Every bit of consideration urged the Prince to make a decision quickly. Common sense also demanded he take another step, which was to evaluate without bias what kind of man Pichegru was, consider the nature of the sacrifice he was making, and assess his proposals. Europe recognized his talents, and he had put the Prince in a position to judge his sincerity. Moreover, his actions and plan provided fresh evidence of his honesty. By crossing the Rhine and positioning himself between the armies of Condé and Wurmser, he made desertion impossible; and if his attempt failed, his own actions would compel him to become an emigrant. He left his wife, father, and children vulnerable to his fierce enemies. Everything testified to his integrity; the abilities he displayed were a sign of his genius, and his genius guaranteed his resources; the sacrifices he would face in case of failure proved that he was confident of success.

   How foolish was it for anyone to think they could command Pichegru's army better than he could!—to claim to know the frontier provinces better than Pichegru who commanded them and had placed his allies in charge of the towns! This arrogance, however, brought down the monarchy at this time, as it had at many others. The Prince de Condé, after reading the plan, rejected it outright. To make it successful, it was necessary to involve the Austrians. Pichegru insisted on this, but Prince de Condé was not open to it, wishing to keep the glory of executing the counter-revolution for himself. He replied to Pichegru with a few comments and concluded his response by reverting to his original plan—that Pichegru should proclaim the King without crossing the Rhine and should hand over Huningen; that then Condé's army alone, without Austrian assistance, would join him. In this scenario, he could promise 100,000 crowns in Louis, which he had in Bale, and 1,400,000 livres, which he had in good sight bills.

   No argument or plea had any effect on the Prince de Condé. The thought of sharing his plan with Wurmser and splitting the glory with him made him oblivious to all other considerations. Nevertheless, it was necessary to report Pichegru the Prince de Condé's remarks, and Courant was tasked with doing so.







      This document appeared so interesting to me that while Bonaparte was
      sleeping I was employed in copying it. Notwithstanding posterior and
      reiterated denials of its truth, I believe it to be perfectly correct.
    
This document was so interesting to me that while Bonaparte was sleeping, I was busy copying it. Despite later and repeated denials of its truth, I believe it to be completely accurate.







      Napoleon had ordered plans of his most famous battles to be engraved, and
      had paid in advance for them. The work was not done quickly enough for
      him. He got angry, and one day said to his geographer, Bacler d'Albe, whom
      he liked well enough, "Ah! do hurry yourself, and think all this is only
      the business of a moment. If you make further delay you will sell nothing;
      everything is soon forgotten!"
    
Napoleon had requested that engravings of his most famous battles be made and had paid for them in advance. The work wasn't getting done fast enough for him. He got frustrated and one day told his geographer, Bacler d'Albe, whom he liked quite a bit, "Oh! Please hurry up; this should only take a moment. If you take any longer, you won't sell anything; everything is forgotten so quickly!"







      We were now in July, and the negotiations were carried on with a tardiness
      which showed that something was kept in reserve on both sides. Bonaparte
      at this time was anything but disposed to sign a peace, which he always
      hoped to be able to make at Vienna, after a campaign in Germany, seconded
      by the armies of the Rhine and the Sambre-et-Meuse. The minority of the
      Directory recommended peace on the basis of the preliminaries, but the
      majority wished for more honourable and advantageous terms; while Austria,
      relying on troubles breaking out in France, was in no haste to conclude a
      treaty. In these circumstances Bonaparte drew up a letter to be sent to
      the Emperor of Austria, in which he set forth the moderation of France;
      but stated that, in consequence of the many delays, nearly all hope of
      peace had vanished. He advised the Emperor not to rely on difficulties
      arising in France, and doubted, if war should continue and the Emperor be
      successful in the next campaign, that he would obtain a more advantageous
      peace than was now at his option. This letter was never sent to the
      Emperor, but was communicated as the draft of a proposed despatch to the
      Directory. The Emperor Francis, however, wrote an autograph letter to the
      General-in-Chief of the army of Italy, which will be noticed when I come
      to the period of its reception: It is certain that Bonaparte at this time
      wished for war. He was aware that the Cabinet of Vienna was playing with
      him, and that the Austrian Ministers expected some political convulsion in
      Paris, which they hoped would be favourable to the Bourbons. He therefore
      asked for reinforcements. His army consisted of 35,900 men, and he desired
      it to be raised to 60,000 infantry and 10,000 cavalry ready for the field.
    
We were now in July, and the negotiations were moving at a pace that suggested both sides were holding back something. Bonaparte was definitely not inclined to sign a peace deal; he always hoped to negotiate one in Vienna after a campaign in Germany, supported by the armies of the Rhine and the Sambre-et-Meuse. The minority in the Directory suggested peace based on the initial agreements, but the majority wanted terms that were more honorable and beneficial. Meanwhile, Austria, counting on unrest in France, wasn’t rushing to finalize a treaty. Given these conditions, Bonaparte wrote a letter intended for the Emperor of Austria, highlighting France's moderation but also expressing that, due to the delays, almost all hope for peace had faded. He urged the Emperor not to depend on issues arising in France, doubting that if the war continued and the Emperor succeeded in the next campaign, he would secure a better peace deal than what was currently available. This letter was never sent to the Emperor; instead, it was shared as a draft proposal with the Directory. However, Emperor Francis did write a personal letter to the General-in-Chief of the Army of Italy, which I will discuss when I reach that part of the story. It’s clear that at this time, Bonaparte desired war. He knew that the Vienna Cabinet was toying with him and that the Austrian Ministers were hoping for some political upheaval in Paris that would benefit the Bourbons. As a result, he requested reinforcements. His army consisted of 35,900 men, and he wanted it increased to 60,000 infantry and 10,000 cavalry ready for action.







      General Desaix, profiting by the preliminaries of Leoben, came in the end
      of July to visit the scene of the army of Italy's triumphs. His
      conversations with Bonaparte respecting the army of the Rhine were far
      from giving him confidence in his military situation in Italy, or
      assurance of support from that army in the event of hostilities commencing
      beyond the mountains. It was at this period that their intimacy began.
      Bonaparte conceived for Desaix the greatest esteem and the sincerest
      friendship.
    
General Desaix, taking advantage of the agreements made at Leoben, arrived at the end of July to witness the victories of the Army of Italy. His discussions with Bonaparte about the Army of the Rhine did little to boost his confidence in his military position in Italy or assure him of support from that army if hostilities broke out beyond the mountains. It was during this time that they grew close. Bonaparte developed a deep respect and genuine friendship for Desaix.






 —[Desaix discontented with the conduct of affairs in Germany,
   seceded from the army of the Rhine, to which he belonged, to join
   that of Napoleon. He was sent to Italy to organise the part of the
   Egyptian expedition starting from Civita Vecchia. He took with him
   his two aides de camp, Rapp and Savary (later Duc de Rovigo), both
   of whom, on his death, were given the same post with Bonaparte.]— 
—[Desaix, unhappy with how things were going in Germany, left the Rhine army he was part of to join Napoleon's forces. He was sent to Italy to help organize the section of the Egyptian expedition launching from Civita Vecchia. He brought along his two aides de camp, Rapp and Savary (who later became Duc de Rovigo), both of whom were given the same position with Bonaparte after his death.]—







      When Desaix was named temporary commander of the force called the army of
      England, during the absence of General Bonaparte, the latter wrote to the
      Directory that they could not have chosen a more distinguished officer
      than Desaix; these sentiments he never belied. The early death of Desaix
      alone could break their union, which, I doubt not, would eventually have
      had great influence on the political and military career of General
      Bonaparte.
    
When Desaix was appointed temporary commander of the force known as the army of England, while General Bonaparte was away, Bonaparte informed the Directory that they couldn't have picked a more distinguished officer than Desaix; he always stood by these sentiments. Only the early death of Desaix could disrupt their partnership, which, I believe, would ultimately have had a significant impact on the political and military career of General Bonaparte.







      All the world knows the part which the General-in-Chief of the army of
      Italy took at the famous crisis of the 18th Fructidor; his proclamation,
      his addresses to the army, and his celebrated order of the day. Bonaparte
      went much into detail on this subject at St. Helena; and I shall now
      proceed to state what I knew at the time respecting that memorable event,
      which was in preparation in the month of June.
    
Everyone knows the role that the General-in-Chief of the army of Italy played during the famous crisis of the 18th of Fructidor; his proclamation, his speeches to the army, and his well-known order of the day. Bonaparte went into a lot of detail about this at St. Helena; and now I will share what I knew at the time about that memorable event, which was being prepared in June.








 


 




















      CHAPTER VIII.
    



      1797.
    
1797.


   The royalists of the interior—Bonaparte's intention of marching on
   Paris with 25,000 men—His animosity against the emigrants and the
   Clichy Club—His choice between the two parties of the Directory—
   Augereau's order of the day against the word 'Monsieur'—Bonaparte
   wishes to be made one of the five Directors—He supports the
   majority of the Directory—La Vallette, Augereau, and Bernadotte
   sent to Paris—Interesting correspondence relative to the 18th
   Fructidor.

   The royalists in the interior—Bonaparte's plan to march on Paris with 25,000 men—His hostility towards the emigrants and the Clichy Club—His choice between the two factions of the Directory—Augereau's order of the day against the term 'Monsieur'—Bonaparte wants to be appointed as one of the five Directors—He backs the majority of the Directory—La Vallette, Augereau, and Bernadotte sent to Paris—Notable correspondence regarding the 18th Fructidor.







      Bonaparte had long observed the struggle which was going on between the
      partisans of royalty and the Republic. He was told that royalism was
      everywhere on the increase. All the generals who returned from Paris to
      the army complained of the spirit of reaction they had noticed. Bonaparte
      was constantly urged by his private correspondents to take one side or the
      other, or to act for himself. He was irritated by the audacity of the
      enemies of the Republic, and he saw plainly that the majority of the
      councils had an evident ill-will towards him. The orators of the Club of
      Clichy missed no opportunity of wounding his self-love in speeches and
      pamphlets. They spared no insults, disparaged his success, and bitterly
      censured his conduct in Italy, particularly with respect to Venice. Thus
      his services were recompensed by hatred or ingratitude. About this time he
      received a pamphlet, which referred to the judgments pronounced upon him
      by the German journals, and more particularly by the Spectator of the
      North, which he always made me translate.
    
Bonaparte had been closely watching the conflict between supporters of the monarchy and the Republic. He was informed that royalism was gaining traction everywhere. All the generals returning from Paris to the army complained about the reactionary spirit they had observed. Bonaparte was constantly encouraged by his private contacts to pick a side or to take matters into his own hands. He was irritated by the boldness of the Republic's enemies and clearly saw that most of the councils held a strong bias against him. The speakers at the Club of Clichy never missed a chance to attack his pride in their speeches and pamphlets. They launched insults, belittled his achievements, and harshly criticized his actions in Italy, especially regarding Venice. Consequently, his efforts were met with either hostility or ingratitude. Around this time, he received a pamphlet that referenced the judgments made about him by German newspapers, particularly by the Spectator of the North, which he always had me translate.







      Bonaparte was touched to the quick by the comparison make between him and
      Moreau, and by the wish to represent him as foolhardy ("savants sous
      Moreau, fougueuse sous Buonaparte"). In the term of "brigands," applied to
      the generals who fought in La Vendée, he thought he recognized the hand of
      the party he was about to attack and overthrow. He was tired of the way in
      which Moreau's system of war was called "savants." But what grieved him
      still more was to see sitting in the councils of the nation Frenchmen who
      were detractors and enemies of the national glory.
    
Bonaparte was deeply affected by the comparison made between him and Moreau, and by the suggestion that he was reckless ("savants under Moreau, fiery under Buonaparte"). He believed that the term "brigands," used to describe the generals fighting in La Vendée, was the work of the party he was about to confront and overthrow. He was frustrated with the way Moreau's military strategy was referred to as "savants." But what upset him even more was the sight of Frenchmen sitting in the national councils who were critics and foes of the country's honor.







      He urged the Directory to arrest the emigrants, to destroy the influence
      of foreigners, to recall the armies, to suppress the journals sold to
      England, such as the 'Quotidienne', the 'Memorial', and the 'The', which
      he accused of being more sanguinary than Marat ever was. In case of there
      being no means of putting a stop to assassinations and the influence of
      Louis XVIII., he offered to resign.
    
He urged the Directory to arrest the emigrants, eliminate the influence of foreigners, bring back the armies, and shut down the newspapers sold to England, like the 'Quotidienne', the 'Memorial', and 'The', which he accused of being more bloodthirsty than Marat ever was. If there was no way to stop the killings and the influence of Louis XVIII., he offered to resign.







      His resolution of passing the Alps with 25,000 men and marching by Lyons
      and Paris was known in the capital, and discussions arose respecting the
      consequences of this passage of another Rubicon. On the 17th of August
      1797 Carnot wrote to him: "People attribute to you a thousand absurd
      projects. They cannot believe that a man who has performed so many great
      exploits can be content to live as a private citizen." This observation
      applied to Bonaparte's reiterated request to be permitted to retire from
      the service on account of the state of his health, which, he said,
      disabled him from mounting his horse, and to the need which he constantly
      urged of having two years' rest.
    
His plan to cross the Alps with 25,000 men and march through Lyon and Paris was known in the capital, sparking discussions about the implications of this crossing another Rubicon. On August 17, 1797, Carnot wrote to him: "People are attributing a thousand ridiculous schemes to you. They can’t believe that someone who has accomplished so much would be satisfied living as a private citizen." This comment referred to Bonaparte's repeated requests to retire from service due to his health, which he claimed made it difficult for him to ride, and his constant insistence on needing two years of rest.







      The General-in-Chief was justly of opinion that the tardiness of the
      negotiations and the difficulties which incessantly arose were founded on
      the expectation of an event which would change the government of France,
      and render the chances of peace more favourable to Austria. He still
      urgently recommended the arrest of the emigrants, the stopping of the
      presses of the royalist journals, which he said were sold to England and
      Austria, the suppression of the Clichy Club. This club was held at the
      residence of Gerard Desodieres, in the Rue de Clichy. Aubry, was one of
      its warmest partisans, and he was the avowed enemy of the revolutionary
      cause which Bonaparte advocated at this period. Aubry's conduct at this
      time, together with the part he had taken in provoking Bonaparte's
      dismissal in 1795, inspired the General with an implacable hatred of him.
    
The General-in-Chief believed that the delays in the negotiations and the ongoing difficulties were based on the hope for an event that would change the French government and make peace more likely for Austria. He continued to strongly recommend the arrest of the emigrants, halting the publications of the royalist newspapers, which he claimed were being sold to England and Austria, and shutting down the Clichy Club. This club met at Gerard Desodieres' home on Rue de Clichy. Aubry was one of its most enthusiastic supporters, and he openly opposed the revolutionary cause that Bonaparte was championing at the time. Aubry's actions then, along with his role in instigating Bonaparte's dismissal in 1795, fueled the General's deep hatred for him.







      Bonaparte despised the Directory, which he accused of weakness,
      indecision, pusillanimity, wasteful expenditure, of many errors, and
      perseverance in a system degrading to the national glory.
    
Bonaparte looked down on the Directory, which he blamed for being weak, indecisive, cowardly, wasteful, full of mistakes, and sticking to a system that tarnished the nation’s glory.






 —[The Directory merited those accusations. The following sketches
   of two of their official sittings present a singular contrast:

   "At the time that the Directory were first installed in the
   Luxembourg (27th October 1795)." says M. Baileul, "there was hardly
   a single article of furniture in it. In a small room, round a
   little broken table, one of the legs of which had given way from
   age, on which table they had deposited a quire of letter-paper, and
   a writing desk 'a calamet', which luckily they had had the
   precaution to bring with them from the Committee of Public safety,
   seated on four rush-bottomed chairs, in front of some logs of wood
   ill-lighted, the whole borrowed from the porter Dupont; who would
   believe that it was in this deplorable condition that the member's
   of the new Government, after having examined all the difficulties,
   nay, let me add, all the horrors of their situation, resolved to
   confront all obstacles, and that they would either deliver France
   from the abyss in which she was plunged or perish in the attempt?
   They drew up on a sheet of letter-paper the act by which they
   declared themselves constituted, and immediately forwarded it to the
   Legislative Bodies."

   And the Comte de La Vallette, writing to M. Cuvillier Fleury, says:
   "I saw our five kings, dressed in the robes of Francis I., his hat,
   his pantaloons, and his lace: the face of La Reveilliere looked like
   a cork upon two pins, with the black and greasy hair of Clodion. M.
   de Talleyrand, in pantaloons of the colour of wine dregs, sat in a
   folding chair at the feet of the Director Barras, in the Court of
   the Petit Luxembourg, and gravely presented to his sovereigns as
   ambassador from the Grand Duke of Tuscany, while the French were
   eating his master's dinner, from the soup to the cheese. At the
   right hand there were fifty musicians and singers of the Opera,
   Laine, Lays, Regnault, and the actresses, not all dead of old age,
   roaring a patriotic cantata to the music of Mehul. Facing them, on
   another elevation, there were two hundred young and beautiful women,
   with their arms and bosoms bare, all in ecstasy at the majesty of
   our Pentarchy and the happiness of the Republic. They also wore
   tight flesh-coloured pantaloons, with rings on their toes. That was
   a sight that never will be seen again. A fortnight after this
   magnificent fete, thousands of families wept over their banished
   fathers, forty-eight departments were deprived of their
   representatives, and forty editors of newspapers were forced to go
   and drink the waters of the Elbe, the Synamary or the Ohio! It
   would be a curious disquisition to seek to discover what really were
   at that time the Republic and Liberty."]

 —[The Directory deserved those accusations. The following descriptions of two of their official meetings show a striking contrast:

   "When the Directory first took office at the Luxembourg (October 27, 1795)," says M. Baileul, "there was barely any furniture in the place. In a small room, around a slightly broken table—one leg of which had broken due to age—there was a stack of letter paper and a writing desk 'a calamet', which thankfully they had brought with them from the Committee of Public Safety. They sat on four rush-bottomed chairs, in front of some poorly lit logs of wood, all borrowed from the porter Dupont; who would believe that it was in this sorry state that the members of the new Government, after considering all the difficulties and, let me add, all the horrors of their predicament, decided to face all challenges and either pull France from the pit it was in or die trying? They drafted on a piece of letter paper the declaration of their formation and immediately sent it to the Legislative Bodies."

   And Comte de La Vallette, writing to M. Cuvillier Fleury, says: "I saw our five kings, dressed in the robes of Francis I., along with his hat, pantaloons, and lace: La Reveilliere's face looked like a cork on two pins, with Clodion's black, greasy hair. M. de Talleyrand, in wine-dreg colored pantaloons, sat in a folding chair at the feet of Director Barras, in the Court of the Petit Luxembourg, and solemnly presented himself to his sovereigns as the ambassador from the Grand Duke of Tuscany, while the French were eating his master's dinner, from soup to cheese. On the right side, there were fifty musicians and singers from the Opera, Laine, Lays, Regnault, and the actresses—not all too old—belting out a patriotic cantata to the music of Mehul. Across from them, on another rise, stood two hundred young, beautiful women, with their arms and chests bare, all ecstatic about the majesty of our Pentarchy and the joy of the Republic. They were also wearing tight, flesh-colored pantaloons, with rings on their toes. That was a sight that will never be seen again. Two weeks after this grand celebration, thousands of families mourned their banished fathers, forty-eight departments lost their representatives, and forty newspaper editors were forced to go and drink the waters of the Elbe, the Synamary, or the Ohio! It would be an interesting discussion to explore what the Republic and Liberty truly were at that time."]







      He knew that the Clichy party demanded his dismissal and arrest. He was
      given to understand that Dumolard was one of the most decided against him,
      and that, finally, the royalist party was on the point of triumphing.
    
He knew that the Clichy group wanted him fired and arrested. He understood that Dumolard was one of his strongest opponents, and that, ultimately, the royalist faction was about to win.







      Before deciding for one party or the other Bonaparte first thought of
      himself. He did not imagine that he had yet achieved enough to venture on
      possessing himself of that power which certainly he might easily have
      obtained. He therefore contented himself with joining the party which was,
      for the moment, supported by public opinion. I know he was determined to
      march upon Paris with 25,000 men had affairs taken a turn unfavourable to
      the Republic, which he preferred to royalty. He cautiously formed his
      plan. To defend the Directory was, he conceived, to defend his own future
      fortune; that is to say, it was protecting a power which appeared to have
      no other object than to keep a place for him until his return.
    
Before choosing one political party over the other, Bonaparte first thought about himself. He didn’t believe he had accomplished enough to take on the power that he could have easily claimed. So, he decided to align himself with the party that was, at that moment, backed by public opinion. I know he was set on marching to Paris with 25,000 men if things turned against the Republic, which he preferred over the monarchy. He carefully developed his plan. Defending the Directory, he thought, meant defending his own future success; in other words, it was about protecting a power that seemed to exist solely to hold a spot for him until he returned.







      The parties which rose up in Paris produced a reaction in the army. The
      employment of the word 'Monsieur' had occasioned quarrels, and even
      bloodshed. General Augereau, in whose division these contests had taken
      place, published an order of the day, setting forth that every individual
      in his division who should use the word 'Monsieur', either verbally or in
      writing, under any pretence whatever, should be deprived of his rank, and
      declared incapable of serving in the Republican armies. This order was
      read at the head of each company.
    
The uprisings in Paris provoked a strong response from the army. The use of the word "Monsieur" led to disputes and even violence. General Augereau, whose division had experienced these conflicts, issued a directive stating that anyone in his division who used the word "Monsieur," whether spoken or written, for any reason would lose their rank and be deemed unfit to serve in the Republican armies. This directive was read aloud at the front of each company.







      Bonaparte viewed the establishment of peace as the close of his military
      career. Repose and inactivity were to him unbearable. He sought to take
      part in the civil affairs of the Republic, and was desirous of becoming
      one of the five Directors, convinced that, if he obtained that object, he
      would speedily stand single and alone. The fulfilment of this wish would
      have prevented the Egyptian expedition, and placed the imperial crown much
      sooner upon his head. Intrigues were carried on in Paris in his name, with
      the view of securing to him a legal dispensation on the score of age. He
      hoped, though he was but eight-and-twenty, to supersede one of the two
      Directors who were to go out of office.
    
Bonaparte saw the establishment of peace as the end of his military career. Rest and inactivity were unbearable for him. He wanted to get involved in the civil affairs of the Republic and aimed to become one of the five Directors, believing that if he achieved this goal, he would quickly stand out on his own. Fulfilling this wish would have prevented the Egyptian expedition and placed the imperial crown on his head much sooner. Intrigues were happening in Paris in his name to secure him a legal exemption due to his age. He hoped, despite being only twenty-eight, to replace one of the two Directors who were about to leave office.






 —[The Directors had to be forty years of ago before they could be
   appointed.]— 
—[The Directors had to be appointed forty years ago before they could serve.]—







      His brothers and their friends made great exertions for the success of the
      project, which, however, was not officially proposed, because it was too
      adverse to the prevailing notions of the day, and seemed too early a
      violation of the constitution of the year III., which, nevertheless, was
      violated in another way a few months after.
    
His brothers and their friends worked really hard for the success of the project, which, however, wasn't officially proposed because it went against the popular ideas of the time and seemed like too soon a violation of the constitution of the year III. However, that constitution was violated in another way just a few months later.







      The members of the Directory were by no means anxious to have Bonaparte
      for their colleague. They dissembled, and so did he. Both parties were
      lavish of their mutual assurances of friendship, while they cordially
      hated each other. The Directory, however, appealed for the support of
      Bonaparte, which he granted; but his subsequent conduct clearly proves
      that the maintenance of the constitution of the year III. was a mere
      pretext. He indeed defended it meanwhile, because, by aiding the triumph
      of the opposite party, he could not hope to preserve the influence which
      he exercised over the Directory. I know well that, in case of the Clichy
      party gaining the ascendency, he was determined to cross the Alps with his
      army, and to assemble all the friends of the Republic at Lyons, thence to
      march upon Paris.
    
The members of the Directory were definitely not eager to have Bonaparte as their colleague. They pretended to be friendly, and so did he. Both sides offered plenty of empty assurances of friendship while genuinely disliking each other. However, the Directory sought Bonaparte's support, which he provided; but his later actions clearly show that defending the constitution of the year III. was just a cover. He did support it for a time, because by helping the opposing party succeed, he knew he would lose the influence he had over the Directory. I’m well aware that if the Clichy party gained power, he was ready to lead his army across the Alps and gather all the supporters of the Republic in Lyons, from where they would march on Paris.







      In the Memorial of St. Helena it is stated, in reference to the 18th
      Fructidor, "that the triumph of the majority of the councils was his
      desire and hope, we are inclined to believe from the following fact, viz.,
      that at the crisis of the contest between the two factions a secret
      resolution was drawn up by three of the members of the Directory, asking
      him for three millions to support the attack on the councils, and that
      Napoleon, under various pretences, did not send the money, though he might
      easily have done so."
    
In the Memorial of St. Helena, it’s mentioned regarding the 18th Fructidor, "that the victory of the majority of the councils was his wish and expectation. We lean towards believing this because of the following fact: at a critical moment in the struggle between the two factions, three members of the Directory secretly drafted a resolution asking him for three million to back the assault on the councils, and Napoleon, for various reasons, did not send the money, even though he easily could have."







      This is not very comprehensible. There was no secret resolution of the
      members who applied for the three millions. It was Bonaparte who offered
      the money, which, however, he did not send; it was he who despatched
      Augereau; and he who wished for the triumph of the Directorial majority.
      His memory served him badly at St. Helena, as will be seen from some
      correspondence which I shall presently submit to the reader. It is very
      certain that he did offer the money to the Directory; that is to say, to
      three of its members.
    
This is not very clear. There was no secret agreement among the members who requested the three million. It was Bonaparte who proposed the funding, which he ultimately did not provide; he was the one who sent Augereau; and he wanted the Directorial majority to succeed. His memory failed him at St. Helena, as will be evident from some correspondence I will soon share with the reader. It's very clear that he did offer the money to the Directory, specifically to three of its members.






 —[Barras, La Revelliere-Lepaux, and Rewbell, the three Directors
   who carried out the 'coup d'etat' of the 18th Fructidor against
   their colleagues Carnot and Bartholemy. (See Thiers' "French
   Revolution", vol. v. pp. 114,139, and 163.)]— 
 —[Barras, La Revelliere-Lepaux, and Rewbell, the three Directors who executed the coup on the 18th of Fructidor against their colleagues Carnot and Bartholemy. (See Thiers' "French Revolution", vol. v. pp. 114,139, and 163.)]—







      Bonaparte had so decidedly formed his resolution that on the 17th of July,
      wishing to make Augereau his confidant, he sent to Vicenza for him by an
      extraordinary courier.
    
Bonaparte had made up his mind so firmly that on July 17th, wanting to make Augereau his trusted ally, he sent an urgent courier to Vicenza to bring him.







      Bonaparte adds that when Bottot, the confidential agent of Barras, came to
      Passeriano, after the 18th Fructidor, he declared to him that as soon as
      La Vallette should make him acquainted with the real state of things the
      money should be transmitted. The inaccuracy of these statements will be
      seen in the correspondence relative to the event. In thus distorting the
      truth Napoleon's only object could have been to proclaim his inclination
      for the principles he adopted and energetically supported from the year
      1800, but which, previously to that period, he had with no less energy
      opposed.
    
Bonaparte mentions that when Bottot, Barras's trusted agent, arrived in Passeriano after the 18th of Fructidor, he told him that as soon as La Vallette updated him on the actual situation, the money would be sent. The inaccuracies in these claims will be evident in the related correspondence regarding the event. By distorting the truth, Napoleon's only goal seems to be to assert his support for the principles he had adopted and strongly endorsed since 1800, despite having previously opposed them just as passionately.







      He decidedly resolved to support the majority of the Directory, and to
      oppose the royalist faction; the latter, which was beginning to be
      important, would have been listened to had it offered power to him. About
      the end of July he sent his 'aide de camp' La Vallette to Paris. La
      Vallette was a man of good sense and education, pleasing manners, pliant
      temper, and moderate opinions. He was decidedly devoted to Bonaparte. With
      his instructions he received a private cipher to enable him to correspond
      with the General-in-Chief.
    
He firmly decided to support most of the Directory and oppose the royalist faction, which was starting to gain significance and would have taken him seriously had it offered him power. Around the end of July, he sent his aide-de-camp La Vallette to Paris. La Vallette was sensible and well-educated, with a pleasant demeanor, adaptable nature, and moderate views. He was clearly devoted to Bonaparte. Along with his instructions, he received a private code to allow him to communicate with the General-in-Chief.







      Augereau went, after La Vallette, on the 27th of July. Bonaparte
      officially wrote to the Directory that Augereau "had solicited leave to go
      to Paris on his own private business."
    
Augereau left, after La Vallette, on July 27th. Bonaparte officially informed the Directory that Augereau "had requested permission to go to Paris for his personal matters."







      But the truth is, Augereau was sent expressly to second the revolution
      which was preparing against the Clichy party and the minority of the
      Directory.
    
But the truth is, Augereau was specifically sent to support the revolution that was being organized against the Clichy party and the minority of the Directory.







      Bonaparte made choice of Augereau because he knew his staunch republican
      principles, his boldness, and his deficiency in political talent. He
      thought him well calculated to aid a commotion, which his own presence
      with the army of Italy prevented him from directing in person; and
      besides, Augereau was not an ambitious rival who might turn events to his
      own advantage. Napoleon said, at St. Helena, that he sent the addresses of
      the army of Italy by Augereau because he was a decided supporter of the
      opinions of the day. That was the true reason for choosing him.
    
Bonaparte chose Augereau because he knew he had strong republican beliefs, was bold, and lacked political skills. He thought Augereau would be good at handling a situation that he couldn't direct in person because he was with the army of Italy. Plus, Augereau wasn’t an ambitious rival who could exploit the situation for his own benefit. Napoleon mentioned at St. Helena that he sent the addresses of the army of Italy through Augereau because he was a clear supporter of the current opinions. That was the real reason for selecting him.







      Bernadotte was subsequently despatched on the same errand. Bonaparte's
      pretence for sending him was, that he wished to transmit to the Directory
      four flags, which, out of the twenty-one taken at the battle of Rivoli,
      had been left, by mistake, at Peschiera. Bernadotte, however, did not take
      any great part in the affair. He was always prudent.
    
Bernadotte was then sent on the same mission. Bonaparte's reason for sending him was that he wanted to pass on four flags, which were mistakenly left at Peschiera out of the twenty-one taken at the battle of Rivoli. However, Bernadotte didn't get too involved in the situation. He was always careful.







      The crisis of the 18th Fructidor, which retarded for three years the
      extinction of the pentarchy, presents one of the most remarkable events of
      its short existence. It will be seen how the Directors extricated
      themselves from this difficulty. I subjoin the correspondence relating to
      this remarkable episode of our Revolution, cancelling only such portions
      of it as are irrelevant to the subject. It exhibits several variations
      from the accounts given by Napoleon at St. Helena to his noble companions
      in misfortune.
    
The crisis of the 18th Fructidor, which delayed the end of the pentarchy for three years, stands out as one of the most significant events of its brief existence. We will see how the Directors managed to get out of this predicament. I am including the correspondence related to this noteworthy episode of our Revolution, only omitting parts that aren’t relevant to the topic. It shows several differences from the accounts Napoleon shared at St. Helena with his fellow exiles.







      Augereau thus expressed himself on the 18th Fructidor (4th September
      1797):—
    
Augereau expressed himself this way on the 18th of Fructidor (September 4th, 1797):—






   At length, General, my mission is accomplished, and the promises of
   the army of Italy are fulfilled. The fear of being anticipated has
   caused measures to be hurried.

   At midnight I despatched orders to all the troops to march towards
   the points specified. Before day all the bridges and principal
   places were planted with cannon. At daybreak the halls of the
   councils were surrounded, the guards of the councils were amicably
   mingled with our troops, and the members, of whom I send you a list,
   were arrested and conveyed to the Temple. The greater number have
   escaped, and are being pursued. Carnot has disappeared.'

   —[In 1824 Louis XVIII. sent letters of nobility to those members
   of the two councils who were, as it was termed, 'fructidorized'.
   —Bourrienne]—

   Paris is tranquil, and every one is astounded at an event which
   promised to be awful, but which has passed over like a fete.

   The stout patriots of the faubourgs proclaim the safety of the
   Republic, and the black collars are put down. It now remains for
   the wise energy of the Directory and the patriots of the two
   councils to do the rest. The place of sitting is changed, and the
   first operations promise well. This event is a great step towards
   peace; which it is your task finally to secure to us.

At last, General, my mission is complete, and the promises of the army of Italy have been fulfilled. The fear of being one-upped has led to rushed measures.

At midnight, I sent orders to all the troops to march to the specified locations. Before dawn, all the bridges and key locations were fortified with cannons. At daybreak, the council halls were surrounded, the guards were friendly with our troops, and the members, whose names I’m sending you, were arrested and taken to the Temple. Most have managed to escape and are currently being pursued. Carnot has gone missing.

 —[In 1824 Louis XVIII sent letters of nobility to those members of the two councils who were, as it was termed, 'fructidorized'. —Bourrienne]—

Paris is calm, and everyone is shocked by an event that could have been terrible but turned out to be like a celebration.

The strong patriots of the outskirts are declaring the safety of the Republic, and the opposition is being quelled. Now, it’s up to the wise actions of the Directory and the patriots of the two councils to finish the job. The meeting place has changed, and the initial actions look promising. This event is a significant step towards peace, which is your responsibility to ensure for us in the end.







      On the 24th Fructidor (10th September 1797) Augereau writes:
    
On September 10, 1797, Augereau writes:






   My 'aide de camp', de Verine, will acquaint you with the events of
   the 18th. He is also to deliver to you some despatches from the
   Directory, where much uneasiness is felt at not hearing from you.
   No less uneasiness is experienced on seeing in Paris one of your
   'aides de camp',—(La Vallette)—whose conduct excites the
   dissatisfaction and distrust of the patriots, towards whom he has
   behaved very ill.

   The news of General Clarke's recall will have reached you by this
   time, and I suspect has surprised you. Amongst the thousand and one
   motives which have determined the Government to take this step may
   be reckoned his correspondence with Carnot, which has been
   communicated to me, and in which he treated the generals of the army
   of Italy as brigands.

   Moreau has sent the Directory a letter which throws a new light on
   Pichegru's treason. Such baseness is hardly to be conceived.

   The Government perseveres in maintaining the salutary measures which
   it has adopted. I hope it will be in vain for the remnant of the
   factions to renew their plots. The patriots will continue united.

   Fresh troops having been summoned to Paris, and my presence at their
   head being considered indispensable by the Government, I shall not
   have the satisfaction of seeing you so soon as I hoped. This has
   determined me to send for my horses and carriages, which I left at
   Milan.

   My aide-de-camp, de Verine, will update you on the events of the 18th. He will also deliver some dispatches from the Directory, where there is a lot of concern about not hearing from you. There's also worry in Paris about one of your aides-de-camp, La Vallette, whose behavior has caused dissatisfaction and distrust among the patriots, as he has treated them very poorly.

   By now, you’ve probably heard about General Clarke's recall, which I suspect surprised you. One of the many reasons the Government decided on this move is his correspondence with Carnot, which I have seen, where he referred to the generals of the army of Italy as bandits.

   Moreau has sent the Directory a letter offering new insights into Pichegru's betrayal. Such treachery is hard to believe.

   The Government continues to enforce the necessary measures it has put in place. I hope the remnants of the factions will be unsuccessful in trying to revive their plots. The patriots will remain united.

   Since new troops have been called to Paris, and the Government considers my presence at their head essential, I will not have the pleasure of seeing you as soon as I had hoped. This has led me to request my horses and carriages, which I left in Milan.







      Bernadotte wrote to Bonaparte on the 24th Fructidor as follows:—
    
Bernadotte wrote to Bonaparte on the 24th of Fructidor as follows:—






   The arrested deputies are removed to Rochefort, where they will be
   embarked for the island of Madagascar. Paris is tranquil. The
   people at first heard of the arrest of the deputies with
   indifference. A feeling of curiosity soon drew them into the
   streets; enthusiasm followed, and cries of 'Vive la Republique',
   which had not been heard for a long time, now resounded in every
   street. The neighbouring departments have expressed their
   discontent. That of Allier has, it is said, protested; but it will
   cut a fine figure. Eight thousand men are marching to the environs
   of Paris. Part is already within the precincts; under the orders of
   General Lemoine. The Government has it at present in its power to
   elevate public spirit; but everybody feels that it is necessary the
   Directory should be surrounded by tried and energetic Republicans.
   Unfortunately a host of men, without talent and resources, already
   suppose that what has taken place has been done only in order to
   advance their interests. Time is necessary to set all to rights.
   The armies have regained consistency. The soldiers of the interior
   are esteemed, or at least feared. The emigrants fly, and the
   non-juring priests conceal themselves. Nothing could have happened
   more fortunately to consolidate the Republic.

The arrested deputies are taken to Rochefort, where they will be shipped off to the island of Madagascar. Paris is calm. Initially, people reacted to the deputies' arrest with indifference. A wave of curiosity soon pulled them into the streets; enthusiasm followed, and cheers of 'Long live the Republic,' which hadn't been heard in a long time, echoed through every street. Nearby regions have shown their dissatisfaction. Allier, it is said, has protested; but that will make for a fine spectacle. Eight thousand men are marching to the outskirts of Paris. Some are already within the city limits, under General Lemoine's command. The Government currently has the power to uplift public sentiment; however, everyone senses that the Directory needs to be surrounded by tested and committed Republicans. Unfortunately, many untalented and resource-less individuals already assume that recent events were orchestrated solely for their benefit. Time is needed to put everything right. The armies have regained strength. The soldiers in the interior are respected, or at least feared. The emigrants are fleeing, and the non-juring priests are hiding. Nothing could have happened more favorably to strengthen the Republic.







      Bonaparte wrote as follows, to the Directory on the 26th Fructidor:
    
Bonaparte wrote the following to the Directory on the 26th Fructidor:






   Herewith you will receive a proclamation to the army, relative to
   the events of the 18th. I have despatched the 45th demi-brigade,
   commanded by General Bon, to Lyons, together with fifty cavalry;
   also General Lannes, with the 20th light infantry and the 9th
   regiment of the line, to Marseilles. I have issued the enclosed
   proclamation in the southern departments. I am about to prepare a
   proclamation for the inhabitants of Lyons, as soon as I obtain some
   information of what may have passed there.

   If I find there is the least disturbance, I will march there with
   the utmost rapidity. Believe that there are here a hundred thousand
   men, who are alone sufficient to make the measures you have taken to
   place liberty on a solid basis be respected. What avails it that we
   gain victories if we are not respected in our country. In speaking
   of Paris, one may parody what Cassius said of Rome: "Of what use to
   call her queen on the banks of the Seine, when she is the slave of
   Pitt's gold?"

Here’s a statement for the army about the events of the 18th. I've sent the 45th demi-brigade, led by General Bon, to Lyons, along with fifty cavalry. General Lannes is heading to Marseilles with the 20th light infantry and the 9th regiment of the line. I've issued the attached proclamation in the southern regions. I'm preparing a proclamation for the people of Lyons as soon as I get some details about what happened there.

If I find that there's any unrest, I will move there as quickly as possible. Know that we have a hundred thousand men here who are more than capable of ensuring that the steps you’ve taken to secure liberty are respected. What good are our victories if we’re not honored in our own country? When discussing Paris, one might echo what Cassius said about Rome: "What good is it to call her queen on the banks of the Seine if she is a slave to Pitt's gold?"







      After the 18th Fructidor Augereau wished to have his reward for his share
      in the victory, and for the service which he had rendered. He wished to be
      a Director. He got, however, only the length of being a candidate; honour
      enough for one who had merely been an instrument on that day.
    
After the 18th of Fructidor, Augereau wanted to get his reward for his role in the victory and the service he had provided. He aimed to become a Director. However, he only managed to be a candidate; that was enough recognition for someone who had just been a tool on that day.








 


 




















      CHAPTER IX.
    



      1797.
    
1797.


   Bonaparte's joy at the result of the 18th Fructidor.—His letter to
   Augereau—His correspondence with the Directory and proposed
   resignation—Explanation of the Directory—Bottot—General Clarke—
   Letter from Madame Bacciocchi to Bonaparte—Autograph letter of the
   Emperor Francis to Bonaparte—Arrival of Count Cobentzel—Autograph
   note of Bonaparte on the conditions of peace.

   Bonaparte's excitement about the outcome of the 18th Fructidor.—His letter to Augereau—His exchanges with the Directory and suggested resignation—Directory's explanation—Bottot—General Clarke—Letter from Madame Bacciocchi to Bonaparte—Personal letter from Emperor Francis to Bonaparte—Arrival of Count Cobentzel—Personal note from Bonaparte regarding the terms of peace.







      Bonaparte was delighted when he heard of the happy issue of the 18th
      Fructidor. Its result was the dissolution of the Legislative Body and the
      fall of the Clichyan party, which for some months had disturbed his
      tranquillity. The Clichyans had objected to Joseph Bonaparte's right to
      sit as deputy for Liamone in the Council of Five Hundred.
    
Bonaparte was thrilled when he heard about the positive outcome of the 18th Fructidor. It led to the dissolution of the Legislative Body and the downfall of the Clichyan party, which had been unsettling him for several months. The Clichyans had opposed Joseph Bonaparte's right to serve as a deputy for Liamone in the Council of Five Hundred.






 —[He was ambassador to Rome, and not a deputy at this time. When
   he became a member of the council, after his return from Rome, he
   experienced no opposition (Bourrienne et ses Erreurs, tome i.
   p. 240).]— 
 —[He was the ambassador to Rome, not a deputy at that time. When he joined the council after coming back from Rome, he faced no opposition (Bourrienne et ses Erreurs, tome i. p. 240).]—







      His brother's victory removed the difficulty; but the General-in-Chief
      soon perceived that the ascendant party abused its power, and again
      compromised the safety of the Republic, by recommencing the Revolutionary
      Government. The Directors were alarmed at his discontent and offended by
      his censure. They conceived the singular idea of opposing to Bonaparte,
      Augereau, of whose blind zeal they had received many proofs. The Directory
      appointed Augereau commander of the army of Germany. Augereau, whose
      extreme vanity was notorious, believed himself in a situation to compete
      with Bonaparte. What he built his arrogance on was, that, with a numerous
      troop, he had arrested some unarmed representatives, and torn the
      epaulettes from the shoulders of the commandant of the guard of the
      councils. The Directory and he filled the headquarters at Passeriano with
      spies and intriguers.
    
His brother's victory removed the issue; but the General-in-Chief soon noticed that the dominant party was abusing its power and once again putting the safety of the Republic at risk by restarting the Revolutionary Government. The Directors were worried about his dissatisfaction and offended by his criticism. They came up with the unusual idea of countering Bonaparte with Augereau, whose blind enthusiasm they had seen many times. The Directory appointed Augereau as commander of the army of Germany. Augereau, whose well-known vanity was extreme, thought he was in a position to compete with Bonaparte. His arrogance stemmed from the fact that, with a large force, he had captured some unarmed representatives and ripped the epaulettes off the shoulders of the commandant of the guard of the councils. The Directory and he filled the headquarters at Passeriano with spies and schemers.







      Bonaparte, who was informed of everything that was going on, laughed at
      the Directory, and tendered his resignation, in order that he might be
      supplicated to continue in command.
    
Bonaparte, who knew everything that was happening, laughed at the Directory and offered his resignation so that they would beg him to stay in charge.







      The following post-Thermidorian letters will prove that the General's
      judgment on this point was correct.
    
The following post-Thermidorian letters will show that the General's judgment on this issue was right.







      On the 2d Vendemiaire, year VI. (23d September 1797), he wrote to
      Augereau, after having announced the arrival of his 'aide de camp' as
      follows:
    
On the 2nd Vendemiaire, year VI. (23rd September 1797), he wrote to Augereau, after announcing the arrival of his aide-de-camp as follows:






   The whole army applauds the wisdom and vigour which you have
   displayed upon this important occasion, and participates in the
   success of the country with the enthusiasm and energy which
   characterise our soldiers. It is only to be hoped, however, that
   the Government will not be playing at see saw, and thus throw itself
   into the opposite party. Wisdom and moderate views alone can
   establish the happiness of the country on a sure foundation. As for
   myself, this is the most ardent wish of my heart. I beg that you
   will sometimes let me know what you are doing in Paris.

The whole army applauds the wisdom and energy you've shown on this important occasion, and shares in the country's success with the enthusiasm and spirit that define our soldiers. However, we can only hope that the Government doesn’t play games and align itself with the opposing party. Only wisdom and moderate views can build the country’s happiness on a solid foundation. Personally, this is my greatest wish. Please let me know sometimes what you're up to in Paris.







      On the 4th Vendemiaire Bonaparte wrote a letter to the Directory in the
      following terms:
    
On the 4th Vendemiaire, Bonaparte wrote a letter to the Directory that said:






   The day before yesterday an officer arrived at the army from Paris.
   He reported that he left Paris on the 25th, when anxiety prevailed
   there as to the feelings with which I viewed the events of the 18th
   He was the bearer of a sort of circular from General Augereau to all
   the generals of division; and he brought a letter of credit from the
   Minister of War to the commissary-general, authorising him to draw
   as much money as he might require for his journey.

   It is evident from these circumstances that the Government is acting
   towards me in somewhat the same way in which Pichegru was dealt with
   after Vendemiaire (year IV.).

   I beg of you to receive my resignation, and appoint another to my
   place. No power on earth shall make me continue in the service
   after this shocking mark of ingratitude on the part of the
   Government, which I was very far from expecting. My health, which
   is considerably impaired, imperiously demands repose and
   tranquillity.

   The state of my mind, likewise, requires me to mingle again in the
   mass of citizens. Great power has for a longtime been confided to
   my hands. I have employed it on all occasions for the advantage of
   my country; so much the worse for those who put no faith in virtue,
   and may have suspected mine. My recompense is in my own conscience,
   and in the opinion of posterity.

   Now that the country is tranquil and free from the dangers which
   have menaced it, I can, without inconvenience, quit the post in
   which I have been placed.

   Be sure that if there were a moment of danger, I would be found in
   the foremost rank of the defenders of liberty and of the
   constitution of the year III.

The day before yesterday, an officer arrived at the army from Paris. He reported that he left Paris on the 25th, when there was a lot of anxiety about how I felt regarding the events of the 18th. He brought a sort of circular from General Augereau to all the division generals and a letter of credit from the Minister of War to the commissary-general, giving him authorization to withdraw as much money as he needed for his journey.

These circumstances clearly show that the Government is treating me similarly to how Pichegru was treated after Vendemiaire (year IV.).

I request that you accept my resignation and appoint someone else to take my place. No power on earth will make me continue in the service after this shocking display of ingratitude from the Government, which I did not expect at all. My health, which has significantly declined, urgently requires rest and peace.

My state of mind also compels me to rejoin the general populace. Great power has been entrusted to me for a long time. I have used it at every opportunity for the benefit of my country; too bad for those who have no faith in virtue and may have doubted mine. My reward is in my own conscience and in the judgment of future generations.

Now that the country is calm and free from the dangers that have threatened it, I can easily step down from the position I hold.

Rest assured that if there were a moment of danger, I would be found at the forefront defending liberty and the constitution of the year III.







      The Directory, judging from the account which Bottot gave of his mission
      that he had not succeeded in entirely removing the suspicions of
      Bonaparte, wrote the following letter on the 30th Vendemiaire:
    
The Directory, based on the report that Bottot provided about his mission that he hadn't fully alleviated Bonaparte's suspicions, wrote the following letter on the 30th Vendemiaire:






   The Directory has itself been troubled about the impression made on
   you by the letter to the paymaster-general, of which an 'aide de
   camp' was the bearer. The composition of this letter has very much
   astonished the Government, which never appointed nor recognised such
   an agent: it is at least an error of office. But it should not
   alter the opinion you ought otherwise to entertain of the manner in
   which the Directory thinks of and esteems you. It appears that the
   18th Fructidor was misrepresented in the letters which were sent to
   the army of Italy. You did well to intercept them, and it may be
   right to transmit the most remarkable to the Minister of Police.
   —(What an ignoble task to propose to the conqueror of Italy.)

   In your observations on the too strong tendency of opinion towards
   military government, the Directory recognises an equally enlightened
   and ardent friend of the Republic.

   Nothing is wiser than the maxim, 'cedant arma togae', for the
   maintenance of republics. To show so much anxiety on so important a
   point is not one of the least glorious features in the life of a
   general placed at the head of a triumphant army.

The Directory has been concerned about the impact the letter to the paymaster-general, delivered by an aide-de-camp, has made on you. The content of this letter has greatly surprised the Government, which never appointed or recognized such an agent: it's at least a mistake of office. However, this shouldn't change your view of how the Directory thinks of and values you. It seems that the events of the 18th Fructidor were misrepresented in the letters sent to the army in Italy. You were right to intercept them, and it might be wise to send the most significant ones to the Minister of Police. — (What a lowly task to propose to the conqueror of Italy.)

In your comments about the strong bias towards military governance, the Directory sees you as an equally enlightened and passionate friend of the Republic.

Nothing is smarter than the saying, 'cedant arma togae', for maintaining republics. Showing such concern about such an important issue is one of the most admirable traits in the life of a general leading a victorious army.







      The Directory had sent General Clarke
    
The Directory had sent General Clarke






 —[H. J. G. Clarke, afterwards Minister of War under Napoleon,
   1807-1814, acid under the Bourbons in 1816, when he was made a
   Marshal of France. He was created Duc de Feltre in 1819.]— 
—[H. J. G. Clarke, who later became the Minister of War under Napoleon from 1807 to 1814, and served under the Bourbons in 1816, when he was appointed a Marshal of France. He was made Duc de Feltre in 1819.]—







      to treat for peace, as second plenipotentiary. Bonaparte has often told me
      he had no doubt from the time of his arrival that General Clarke was
      charged with a secret mission to act as a spy upon him, and even to arrest
      him if an opportunity offered for so doing without danger. That he had a
      suspicion of this kind is certain; but I must own that I was never by any
      means able to discover its grounds; for in all my intercourse since with
      Clarke he never put a single question to me, nor did I ever hear a word
      drop from his mouth, which savoured of such a character. If the fact be
      that he was a spy, he certainly played his part well. In all the parts of
      his correspondence which were intercepted there never was found the least
      confirmation of this suspicion. Be this as it may, Bonaparte could not
      endure him; he did not make him acquainted with what was going on, and his
      influence rendered this mission a mere nullity. The General-in-Chief
      concentrated all the business of the negotiation in his own closet; and,
      as to what was going on, Clarke continued a mere cipher until the 18th
      Fructidor, when he was recalled. Bonaparte made but little count of
      Clarke's talents. It is but justice, however, to say that he bore him no
      grudge for the conduct of which he suspected he was guilty in Italy. "I
      pardon him because I alone have the right to be offended."
    
to negotiate for peace as the second representative. Bonaparte often mentioned to me that he believed from the moment he arrived that General Clarke was secretly tasked with spying on him and might even arrest him if a safe opportunity arose. It's clear he had this suspicion, but I must admit I could never figure out why; in all my interactions with Clarke since then, he never asked me a single question, nor did I ever hear him say anything that suggested such intentions. If he was indeed a spy, he certainly did a great job of hiding it. In all of his intercepted correspondence, there was never any evidence to support this suspicion. Regardless, Bonaparte couldn’t stand him; he didn’t keep Clarke in the loop about what was happening, and Clarke's presence made this mission practically pointless. The General-in-Chief kept all the negotiation details to himself, and Clarke remained almost irrelevant until he was recalled on the 18th of Fructidor. Bonaparte didn’t think much of Clarke's skills. However, it’s fair to say he didn’t hold a grudge against him for what he suspected he had done in Italy. "I forgive him because I’m the only one who has the right to be upset."







      He even had the generosity to make interest for an official situation for
      him. These amiable traits were not uncommon with Bonaparte.
    
He even had the kindness to create an opportunity for him in a government job. These pleasant qualities weren't uncommon in Bonaparte.







      Bonaparte had to encounter so many disagreeable contrarieties, both in the
      negotiators for peace and the events at Paris, that he often displayed a
      good deal of irritation and disgust. This state of mind was increased by
      the recollection of the vexation his sister's marriage had caused him, and
      which was unfortunately revived by a letter he received from her at this
      juncture. His excitement was such that he threw it down with an expression
      of anger. It has been erroneously reported in several publications that
      "Bacciocchi espoused Marie-Anne-Eliza Bonaparte on the 5th of May 1797.
      The brother of the bride was at the time negotiating the preliminaries of
      peace with Austria."
    
Bonaparte had to deal with so many unpleasant challenges, both from the peace negotiators and the events in Paris, that he often showed a lot of irritation and disgust. This frustration was heightened by the memory of the annoyance his sister's marriage caused him, which was unfortunately triggered by a letter he received from her at this time. His reaction was so strong that he tossed it aside in anger. It's been incorrectly stated in several publications that "Bacciocchi married Marie-Anne-Eliza Bonaparte on May 5, 1797. The bride's brother was at that time negotiating the peace preliminaries with Austria."







      In fact, the preliminaries were signed in the month of April, and it was
      for the definitive peace we were negotiating in May. But the reader will
      find by the subjoined letter that Christine applied to her brother to
      stand godfather to her third child. Three children in three months would
      be rather quick work.
    
In fact, the preliminaries were signed in April, and we were negotiating for the final peace in May. But the reader will see from the attached letter that Christine asked her brother to be the godfather to her third child. Having three children in three months would be quite the feat.






          AJACCIO, 14th, Thermidor, year V. (1st August 1797).

   GENERAL—Suffer me to write to you and call you by the name of
   brother. My first child was born at a time when you were much
   incensed against us. I trust she may soon caress you, and so make
   you forget the pain my marriage has occasioned you. My second child
   was still-born. Obliged to quit Paris by your order,

   —[Napoleon had written in August 1796 to Carnot, to request that
   Lucien might be ordered to quit Paris; see Iung, tome iii.
   p. 223.]—

   I miscarried in Germany. In a month's time I hope to present you
   with a nephew. A favourable time, and other circumstances, incline
   me to hope my next will be a boy, and I promise you I will make a
   soldier of him; but I wish him to bear your name, and that you
   should be his godfather. I trust you will not refuse your sister's
   request.

   Will you send, for this purpose, your power of attorney to
   Baciocchi, or to whomsoever you think fit? I shall expect with
   impatience your assent. Because we are poor let not that cause you
   to despise us; for, after all, you are our brother, mine are the
   only children that call you uncle, and we all love you more than we
   do the favours of fortune. Perhaps I may one day succeed in
   convincing you of the love I bear you.—Your affectionate sister,

                       CHRISTINE BONAPARTE.

   —[Madame Bacciocchi went by the name of Marianne at St. Cyr, of
   Christine while on her travels, and of Eliza under the Consulate.—
   Bourrienne.]—

   P.S.—Do not fail to remember me to your wife, whom I strongly
   desire to be acquainted with. They told me at Paris I was very like
   her. If you recollect my features you can judge. C. B.

          AJACCIO, 14th, Thermidor, year V. (1st August 1797).

   GENERAL—Let me write to you and call you brother. My first child was born when you were really upset with us. I hope she’ll soon be able to hug you and help you forget the trouble my marriage caused you. My second child was stillborn. Forced to leave Paris by your order,

   —[Napoleon had written in August 1796 to Carnot, to request that Lucien be ordered to leave Paris; see Iung, tome iii. p. 223.]—

   I lost the baby in Germany. In a month, I hope to introduce you to a nephew. A good time and other factors lead me to believe my next will be a boy, and I promise you I’ll raise him to be a soldier; but I want him to have your name and for you to be his godfather. I hope you won’t turn down your sister’s request.

   Will you send your power of attorney to Baciocchi or whoever you think is best for this? I’ll be anxiously waiting for your agreement. Just because we’re not wealthy doesn’t mean you should look down on us; after all, you are our brother, and mine are the only children who call you uncle. We all love you more than we care about fortune’s favors. Maybe one day I’ll manage to show you how much I care about you.—Your loving sister,

                       CHRISTINE BONAPARTE.

   —[Madame Bacciocchi was known as Marianne at St. Cyr, Christine while traveling, and Eliza during the Consulate.— Bourrienne.]—

   P.S.—Don’t forget to send my regards to your wife, whom I really want to meet. I was told in Paris that I look a lot like her. If you remember my features, you can tell. C. B.







      This letter is in the handwriting of Lucien Bonaparte.'
    
This letter is written in the handwriting of Lucien Bonaparte.






 —[Joseph Bonaparte in his Notes says, "It is false that Madame
   Bonaparte ever called herself Christine; it is false that she ever
   wrote the letter of which M. de Bourrienne here gives a copy." It
   will be observed that Bourrienne says it was written by her brother
   Lucien. This is an error. The letter is obviously from Christine
   Boyer, the wife of Lucien Bonaparte, whose marriage had given such
   displeasure to Napoleon. (See Erreurs, tome i. p. 240, and Iung's
   Lucien, tome i p. 161).]— 
—[Joseph Bonaparte in his Notes states, "It's not true that Madame Bonaparte ever referred to herself as Christine; it's not true that she ever wrote the letter that M. de Bourrienne provides a copy of here." It's worth noting that Bourrienne claims it was written by her brother Lucien. This is a mistake. The letter clearly comes from Christine Boyer, the wife of Lucien Bonaparte, whose marriage had caused considerable displeasure to Napoleon. (See Erreurs, tome i. p. 240, and Iung's Lucien, tome i p. 161).]—







      General Bonaparte had been near a month at Passeriano when he received the
      following autograph letter from the Emperor of Austria:
    
General Bonaparte had been at Passeriano for almost a month when he got the following handwritten letter from the Emperor of Austria:






   TO MONSIEUR LE GENERAL BONAPARTE, GENERAL-IN-CHIEF
   OF THE ARMY OF ITALY.

   MONSIEUR LE GENERAL BONAPARTE—When I thought I had given my
   plenipotentiaries full powers to terminate the important negotiation
   with which they were charged, I learn, with as much pain as
   surprise, that in consequence of swerving continually from the
   stipulations of the preliminaries, the restoration of tranquillity,
   with the tidings of which I desire to gladden the hearts of my
   subjects, and which the half of Europe devoutly prays for, becomes
   day after day more uncertain.

   Faithful to the performance of my engagements, I am ready to execute
   what was agreed to at Leoben, and require from you but the
   reciprocal performance of so sacred a duty. This is what has
   already been declared in my name, and what I do not now hesitate
   myself to declare. If, perhaps, the execution of some of the
   preliminary articles be now impossible, in consequence of the events
   which have since occurred, and in which I had no part, it may be
   necessary to substitute others in their stead equally adapted to the
   interests and equally conformable to the dignity of the two nations.
   To such alone will I put my hand. A frank and sincere explanation,
   dictated by the same feelings which govern me, is the only way to
   lead to so salutary a result. In order to accelerate this result as
   far as in me lies, and to put an end at once to the state of
   uncertainty we remain in, and which has already lasted too long, I
   have determined to despatch to the place of the present negotiations
   Comte de Cobentzel, a man who possesses my most unlimited
   confidence, and who is instructed as to my intentions and furnished
   with my most ample powers. I have authorised him to receive and
   accept every proposition tending to the reconciliation of the two
   parties which may be in conformity with the principles of equity and
   reciprocal fitness, and to conclude accordingly.

   After this fresh assurance of the spirit of conciliation which
   animates me, I doubt not you will perceive that peace lies in your
   own hands, and that on your determination will depend the happiness
   or misery of many thousand men. If I mistake as to the means I
   think best adapted to terminate the calamities which for along time
   have desolated Europe, I shall at least have the consolation of
   reflecting that I have done all that depended on me. With the
   consequences which may result I can never be reproached.

   I have been particularly determined to the course I now take by the
   opinion I entertain of your upright character, and by the personal
   esteem I have conceived towards you, of which I am very happy, M. le
   General Bonaparte, to give you here an assurance.

                         (Signed) FRANCIS.

   TO GENERAL BONAPARTE, COMMANDER 
   OF THE ARMY OF ITALY.

   GENERAL BONAPARTE—When I thought I had given my representatives full authority to conclude the important negotiations they were tasked with, I learned, with as much pain as surprise, that due to their continual deviation from the agreed terms, the restoration of peace, which I wish to bring joy to my subjects, and for which half of Europe is fervently hoping, becomes more uncertain with each passing day.

   Being faithful to my commitments, I am prepared to fulfill what was agreed upon at Leoben and only ask that you do the same. This has been previously stated on my behalf, and I now personally affirm it. If some of the preliminary agreements are now unfeasible due to events I did not cause, it may be necessary to replace them with others that equally serve the interests and dignity of both nations. I will only agree to such terms. A straightforward and sincere discussion, driven by the same intentions that guide me, is the sole path to a positive outcome. To expedite this process and end the prolonged uncertainty we’ve faced, I have decided to send Comte de Cobentzel, a person I trust completely, to the current negotiations. He has been briefed on my intentions and has full authority to act on my behalf. I have authorized him to accept any proposals aimed at reconciling both parties that align with principles of fairness and mutual benefit and to conclude accordingly.

   Following this reaffirmation of my conciliatory spirit, I trust you will recognize that the power to achieve peace rests in your hands and that your decision will determine the happiness or suffering of many thousands of people. If my approach to ending the long-term disasters afflicting Europe is misguided, at least I will take comfort in knowing that I have done everything within my power. I cannot be held accountable for the outcomes that follow.

   I am particularly motivated in this course of action by my belief in your integrity and by the personal respect I have developed for you, which I am pleased to acknowledge here, General Bonaparte.

                         (Signed) FRANCIS.







      In fact, it was only on the arrival of the Comte de Cobentzel that the
      negotiations were seriously set on foot. Bonaparte had all along clearly
      perceived that Gallo and Meerweldt were not furnished with adequate
      powers. He saw also clearly enough that if the month of September were, to
      be trifled away in unsatisfactory negotiations, as the month which
      preceded it had been, it would be difficult in October to strike a blow at
      the house of Austria on the side of Carinthia. The Austrian Cabinet
      perceived with satisfaction the approach of the bad weather, and insisted
      more strongly on its ultimatum, which was the Adige, with Venice.
    
In fact, it was only when the Comte de Cobentzel arrived that the negotiations really got underway. Bonaparte had always understood that Gallo and Meerweldt didn't have the proper authority. He also recognized that if September was wasted on unproductive negotiations, like the month before it, it would be challenging in October to take action against Austria in Carinthia. The Austrian Cabinet was pleased to see the bad weather approaching and insisted more firmly on its ultimatum, which was the Adige and Venice.







      Before the 18th Fructidor the Emperor of Austria hoped that the movement
      which was preparing in Paris would operate badly for France and favourably
      to the European cause. The Austrian plenipotentiaries, in consequence,
      raised their pretensions, and sent notes and an ultimatum which gave the
      proceedings more an air of trifling than of serious negotiation.
      Bonaparte's original ideas, which I have under his hand, were as follows:
    
Before the 18th of Fructidor, the Emperor of Austria believed that the movement brewing in Paris would negatively impact France and positively support the European cause. As a result, the Austrian representatives increased their demands and sent notes along with an ultimatum, which made the talks seem more like a joke than a serious negotiation. Bonaparte's initial ideas, which I have in his own handwriting, were as follows:






   1. The Emperor to have Italy as far as the Adda.
   2. The King of Sardinia as far as the Adda.
   3. The Genoese Republic to have the boundary of Tortona as far as
   the Po (Tortona to be demolished), as also the imperial fiefs.
   (Coni to be ceded to France, or to be demolished.)
   4. The Grand Duke of Tuscany to be restored.
   5. The Duke of Parma to be restored.

   1. The Emperor will have Italy up to the Adda River.  
   2. The King of Sardinia will also have territory up to the Adda River.  
   3. The Genoese Republic will have the boundary of Tortona extending to the Po River (Tortona will be destroyed), along with the imperial lands. (Coni will be given to France, or it will be destroyed.)  
   4. The Grand Duke of Tuscany will be reinstated.  
   5. The Duke of Parma will be reinstated.  








 


 




















      CHAPTER X.
    



      1797.
    
1797.


   Influence of the 18th Fructidor on the negotiations—Bonaparte's
   suspicion of Bottot—His complaints respecting the non-erasure of
   Bourrienne—Bourrienne's conversation with the Marquis of Gallo—
   Bottot writes from Paris to Bonaparte on the part of the Directory
   Agents of the Directory employed to watch Bonaparte—Influence of
   the weather on the conclusion of peace—Remarkable observation of
   Bonaparte—Conclusion of the treaty—The Directory dissatisfied with
   the terms of the peace—Bonaparte's predilection for representative
   government—Opinion on Bonaparte.

   Influence of the 18th of Fructidor on the negotiations—Bonaparte's suspicion of Bottot—His complaints about the failure to remove Bourrienne—Bourrienne's conversation with the Marquis of Gallo—Bottot writes from Paris to Bonaparte on behalf of the Directory. Agents of the Directory are tasked with monitoring Bonaparte—The weather's impact on the peace agreement—Notable comment from Bonaparte—Finalization of the treaty—The Directory is unhappy with the peace terms—Bonaparte's preference for representative government—Views on Bonaparte.







      After the 18th Fructidor Bonaparte was more powerful, Austria less haughty
      and confident. Venice was the only point of real difficulty. Austria
      wanted the line of the Adige, with Venice, in exchange for Mayence, and
      the boundary of the Rhine until that river enters Holland. The Directory
      wished to have the latter boundary, and to add Mantua to the Italian
      Republic, without giving up all the line of the Adige and Venice. The
      difficulties were felt to be so irreconcilable that within about a month
      of the conclusion of peace the Directory wrote to General Bonaparte that a
      resumption of hostilities was preferable to the state of uncertainty which
      was agitating and ruining France. The Directory, therefore, declared that
      both the armies of the Rhine should take the field. It appears from the
      Fructidorian correspondence, which has been already given, that the
      majority of the Directory then looked upon a peace such as Bonaparte
      afterwards made as infamous.
    
After the 18th of Fructidor, Bonaparte became more powerful, while Austria grew less arrogant and self-assured. Venice was the only real sticking point. Austria wanted the Adige River line, along with Venice, in exchange for Mayence, and the boundary of the Rhine up to where it enters Holland. The Directory aimed to secure that Rhine boundary and add Mantua to the Italian Republic, without completely giving up the Adige line and Venice. The differences seemed so unresolvable that within about a month after peace was established, the Directory informed General Bonaparte that restarting hostilities was better than enduring the uncertainty that was unsettling and damaging France. Consequently, the Directory announced that both armies along the Rhine would take to the field. The Fructidorian correspondence previously mentioned indicates that the majority of the Directory saw a peace agreement similar to what Bonaparte later negotiated as disgraceful.







      But Bonaparte, from the moment the Venetian insurrection broke out,
      perceived that Venice might be used for the pacification. Bonaparte, who
      was convinced that, in order to bring matters to an issue, Venice and the
      territory beyond the Adige must fall beneath the Hapsburg sceptre, wrote
      to the Directory that he could not commence operations, advantageously,
      before the end of March, 1798; but that if the objections to giving Venice
      to the Emperor of Austria were persisted in, hostilities would certainly
      be resumed in the month of October, for the Emperor would not renounce
      Venice. In that case it would be necessary to be ready on the Rhine for an
      advance in Germany, as the army of Italy, if it could make head against
      the Archduke Charles, was not sufficiently strong for any operations on a
      grand scale. At this period the conclusion of peace was certainly very
      doubtful; it was even seriously considered in what form the rupture should
      be notified.
    
But Bonaparte, from the moment the Venetian uprising started, realized that Venice could be used to restore order. Bonaparte, who believed that for things to be resolved, Venice and the land beyond the Adige needed to come under Hapsburg control, wrote to the Directory that he couldn't effectively begin operations before the end of March 1798; however, if the objections to handing Venice over to the Emperor of Austria continued, conflicts would definitely start up again in October, because the Emperor wouldn’t give up Venice. In that scenario, it would be essential to prepare on the Rhine for an advance into Germany, as the army in Italy, even if it could hold its ground against Archduke Charles, wasn’t strong enough for any large-scale operations. At this time, peace seemed very uncertain; there was even serious discussion about how to formally announce the breakdown of relations.







      Towards the end of September Bottot, Barras' secretary, arrived at
      Passeriano. He was despatched by the Directory. Bonaparte immediately
      suspected he was a new spy, come on a secret mission, to watch him. He was
      therefore received and treated with coolness; but Bonaparte never had, as
      Sir Walter Scott asserts, the idea of ordering him to be shot. That writer
      is also in error when he says that Bottot was sent to Passeriano to
      reproach Bonaparte for failing to fulfil his promise of sending money to
      the Directory.
    
Towards the end of September, Bottot, Barras' secretary, arrived at Passeriano. He was sent by the Directory. Bonaparte immediately suspected he was a new spy on a secret mission to keep an eye on him. As a result, he was received and treated with indifference; however, Bonaparte never thought, as Sir Walter Scott claims, about having him shot. That author is also mistaken when he says that Bottot was sent to Passeriano to scold Bonaparte for not sending money to the Directory as promised.







      Bonaparte soon gave Bottot an opportunity of judging of the kind of spirit
      which prevailed at headquarters. He suddenly tendered his resignation,
      which he had already several times called upon the Directory to accept. He
      accused the Government, at table, in Bottot's presence, of horrible
      ingratitude. He recounted all his subjects of complaint, in loud and
      impassioned language, without any restraint, and before twenty or thirty
      persons.
    
Bonaparte quickly gave Bottot a chance to see the mood at headquarters. He suddenly offered his resignation, something he had already asked the Directory to accept multiple times. He accused the government, in front of Bottot, of terrible ingratitude. He listed all his grievances in loud, passionate speech, without holding back, and in front of twenty or thirty people.







      Indignant at finding that his reiterated demands for the erasure of my
      name from the list of emigrants had been slighted, and that, in spite of
      his representations, conveyed to Paris by General Bernadotte, Louis
      Bonaparte, and others, I was still included in that fatal list, he
      apostrophised M. Bottot at dinner one day, before forty individuals, among
      whom were the diplomatists Gallo, Cobentzel, and Meerweldt. The
      conversation turned upon the Directory. "Yes, truly," cried Bonaparte, in
      a loud voice, "I have good reason to complain; and, to pass from great to
      little things, look, I pray you, at Bourrienne's case. He possesses my
      most unbounded confidence. He alone is entrusted, under my orders, with
      all the details of the negotiation. This you well know; and yet your
      Directory will not strike him off the list. In a word it is not only an
      inconceivable, but an extremely stupid piece of business; for he has all
      my secrets; he knows my ultimatum, and could by a single word realize a
      handsome fortune, and laugh at your obstinacy. Ask M. de Gallo if this be
      not true."
    
Indignant to see that his repeated requests to have my name removed from the list of emigrants had been ignored, and that despite his appeals, communicated to Paris by General Bernadotte, Louis Bonaparte, and others, I was still on that unfortunate list, he confronted M. Bottot at dinner one day, in front of forty people, including diplomats Gallo, Cobentzel, and Meerweldt. The conversation shifted to the Directory. "Yes, truly," Bonaparte exclaimed loudly, "I have every reason to complain; and to go from big issues to small ones, just look at Bourrienne's situation. He has my utmost trust. He alone is responsible, under my direction, for all the details of the negotiation. You all know this; yet your Directory won't remove him from the list. In short, this is not only unbelievable but also extremely foolish; he holds all my secrets; he knows my final terms, and with a single word could make a nice fortune and mock your stubbornness. Ask M. de Gallo if this isn't true."







      Bottot wished to offer some excuse; but the general murmur which followed
      this singular outburst reduced him to silence.
    
Bottot wanted to make an excuse, but the general murmur that followed this unusual outburst silenced him.







      The Marquis de Gallo had conversed with me but three days before, in the
      park of Passeriano, on the subject of my position with regard to France,
      of the determination expressed by the Directory not to erase my name, and
      of the risk I thereby ran. "We have no desire," continued he, "to renew
      the war; we wish sincerely for peace; but it must be an honourable one.
      The Republic of Venice presents a large territory for partition, which
      would be sufficient for both parties. The cessions at present proposed are
      not, however, satisfactory. We want to know Bonaparte's ultimatum; and I
      am authorised to offer an estate in Bohemia, with a title and residence,
      and an annual revenue of 90,000 florins."
    
The Marquis de Gallo had talked to me just three days ago in the park of Passeriano about my situation regarding France, the firm decision made by the Directory not to remove my name, and the risks that come with it. "We don’t want to start the war again," he said, "we genuinely want peace, but it has to be an honorable one. The Republic of Venice has a large area available for division that would be enough for both sides. However, the concessions currently on the table aren’t satisfactory. We need to understand Bonaparte’s final offer; I’m authorized to propose a property in Bohemia, complete with a title and residence, plus an annual income of 90,000 florins."







      I quickly interrupted M. de Gallo, and assured him that both my conscience
      and my duty obliged me to reject his proposal; and so put at once an end
      to the conversation.
    
I quickly interrupted M. de Gallo and assured him that both my conscience and my duty forced me to decline his proposal, so I ended the conversation right away.







      I took care to let the General-in-Chief know this story, and he was not
      surprised at my reply. His conviction, however, was strong, from all that
      M. de Gallo had said, and more particularly from the offer he had made,
      that Austria was resolved to avoid war, and was anxious for peace.
    
I made sure to inform the General-in-Chief about this situation, and he wasn’t surprised by my response. Nevertheless, he was convinced, based on everything M. de Gallo had mentioned, especially the offer he made, that Austria was determined to prevent war and was eager for peace.







      After I had retired to rest M. Bottot came to my bedroom and asked me,
      with a feigned surprise, if it was true that my name was still on the list
      of emigrants. On my replying in the affirmative, he requested me to draw
      up a note on the subject. This I declined doing, telling him that twenty
      notes of the kind he required already existed; that I would take no
      further steps; and that I would henceforth await the decision in a state
      of perfect inaction.
    
After I had gone to bed, M. Bottot came to my room and asked me, pretending to be surprised, if it was true that my name was still on the list of emigrants. When I replied yes, he asked me to write a note about it. I refused, telling him that there were already twenty notes like the one he wanted; that I wouldn’t take any more steps; and that from then on I would wait for the decision without doing anything.







      General Bonaparte thought it quite inexplicable that the Directory should
      express dissatisfaction at the view he took of the events of the 18th
      Fructidor, as, without his aid, they would doubtless have been overcome.
      He wrote a despatch, in which he repeated that his health and his spirits
      were affected—that he had need of some years' repose—that he
      could no longer endure the fatigue of riding; but that the prosperity and
      liberty of his country would always command his warmest interests. In all
      this there was not a single word of truth. The Directory thought as much,
      and declined to accept his resignation in the most flattering terms.
    
General Bonaparte found it completely unreasonable that the Directory should be unhappy with his perspective on the events of the 18th Fructidor, since without his support, they would have surely failed. He sent a message where he reiterated that his health and spirits were impacted—that he needed several years of rest—that he could no longer handle the exhaustion of riding; however, the success and freedom of his country would always hold his deepest concern. There wasn't a single truthful word in any of this. The Directory suspected as much and declined to accept his resignation in the most complimentary manner.







      Bottot proposed to him, on the part of the Directory, to revolutionise
      Italy. The General inquired whether the whole of Italy would be included
      in the plan. The revolutionary commission had, however, been entrusted to
      Bottot in so indefinite a way that he could only hesitate, and give a
      vague reply. Bonaparte wished for more precise orders. In the interval
      peace was concluded, and the idea of that perilous and extravagant
      undertaking was no longer agitated. Bottot, soon after his return to
      Paris, wrote a letter to General Bonaparte, in which he complained that
      the last moments he had passed at Passeriano had deeply afflicted his
      heart. He said that cruel suspicions had followed him even to the gates of
      the Directory. These cruel suspicions had, however, been dissipated by the
      sentiments of admiration and affection which he had found the Directory
      entertained for the person of Bonaparte.
    
Bottot proposed to him, on behalf of the Directory, to revolutionize Italy. The General asked if the entire country would be part of the plan. However, the revolutionary commission had been given to Bottot in such an unclear way that he could only hesitate and give a vague response. Bonaparte wanted more specific instructions. In the meantime, peace was reached, and the idea of that risky and outrageous project was no longer discussed. Soon after returning to Paris, Bottot wrote a letter to General Bonaparte, expressing that his last moments at Passeriano had deeply troubled him. He mentioned that harsh suspicions had followed him even to the doorstep of the Directory. However, these harsh suspicions were relieved by the respect and admiration he found the Directory had for Bonaparte.







      These assurances, which were precisely what Bonaparte had expected, did
      not avail to lessen the contempt he entertained for the heads of the
      Government, nor to change his conviction of their envy and mistrust of
      himself. To their alleged affection he made no return. Bottot assured the
      hero of Italy of "the Republican docility" of the Directory, and touched
      upon the reproaches Bonaparte had thrown out against them, and upon his
      demands which had not been granted. He said:
    
These reassurances, which were exactly what Bonaparte had anticipated, did not reduce the disdain he felt for the leaders of the Government, nor did they alter his belief in their jealousy and distrust of him. He showed no gratitude for their supposed affection. Bottot told the hero of Italy about the "Republican compliance" of the Directory and mentioned the criticisms Bonaparte had aimed at them, as well as the demands that had gone unfulfilled. He said:







      "The three armies, of the North, of the Rhine, and of the Sambre-et-Meuse,
      are to form only one, the army of Germany.—Augereau? But you
      yourself sent him. The fault committed by the Directory is owing to
      yourself! Bernadotte?—he is gone to join you. Cacault?—he is
      recalled. Twelve thousand men for your army?—they are on their
      march. The treaty with Sardinia?—it is ratified. Bourrienne?—he
      is erased. The revolution of Italy?—it is adjourned. Advise the
      Directory, then: I repeat it, they have need of information, and it is to
      you they look for it."
    
"The three armies, from the North, the Rhine, and the Sambre-and-Meuse, are to merge into one, the army of Germany. Augereau? But you sent him yourself. The mistake made by the Directory is on you! Bernadotte?—he's come to join you. Cacault?—he's being recalled. Twelve thousand men for your army?—they're on their way. The treaty with Sardinia?—it's been ratified. Bourrienne?—he's been removed. The revolution in Italy?—it's been postponed. So advise the Directory: I repeat, they need information, and they’re looking to you for it."







      The assertion regarding me was false. For six months Bonaparte demanded my
      erasure without being able to obtain it. I was not struck off the list
      until the 11th of November 1797.
    
The claim about me was not true. For six months, Bonaparte insisted on my removal without success. I wasn't taken off the list until November 11, 1797.







      Just before the close of the negotiation Bonaparte, disgusted at the
      opposition and difficulties with which he was surrounded, reiterated again
      and again the offer of his resignation, and his wish to have a successor
      appointed. What augmented his uneasiness was an idea he entertained that
      the Directory had penetrated his secret, and attributed his powerful
      concurrence on the 18th Fructidor to the true cause—his personal
      views of ambition. In spite of the hypocritical assurances of gratitude
      made to him in writing, and though the Directory knew that his services
      were indispensable, spies were employed to watch his movements, and to
      endeavour by means of the persons about him to discover his views. Some of
      the General's friends wrote to him from Paris, and for my part I never
      ceased repeating to him that the peace, the power of making which he had
      in his own hands, would render him far more popular than the renewal of
      hostilities undertaken with all the chances of success and reverse. The
      signing of the peace, according to his own ideas, and in opposition to
      those of the Directory, the way in which he just halted at Rastadt, and
      avoided returning to the Congress, and, finally, his resolution to
      expatriate himself with an army in order to attempt new enterprises,
      sprung more than is generally believed from the ruling idea that he was
      distrusted, and that his ruin was meditated. He often recalled to mind
      what La Vallette had written to him about his conversation with Lacuee;
      and all he saw and heard confirmed the impression he had received on this
      subject.
    
Just before the negotiations wrapped up, Bonaparte, frustrated by the opposition and challenges surrounding him, repeatedly offered to resign and expressed his desire for a successor to be appointed. What heightened his anxiety was the belief that the Directory had figured out his true intentions and connected his strong support on the 18th Fructidor to his personal ambitions. Despite the insincere expressions of gratitude he received in letters, and even though the Directory understood that his role was crucial, they employed spies to monitor his movements and tried to find out his intentions through people close to him. Some of the General's friends wrote to him from Paris, and I constantly reminded him that securing peace, which was within his control, would make him far more popular than re-engaging in hostilities with all the associated risks of victory or defeat. The signing of peace, based on his own views and contrary to those of the Directory, how he paused at Rastadt and avoided returning to the Congress, and ultimately his decision to leave with an army to pursue new ventures, stemmed more from the prevailing idea that he was not trusted and that plans for his downfall were in motion than is commonly thought. He often recalled what La Vallette had told him about his talk with Lacuee, and everything he saw and heard reinforced the impression he had formed on this issue.







      The early appearance of bad weather precipitated his determination. On the
      13th of October, at daybreak, on opening my window, I perceived the
      mountains covered with snow. The previous night had been superb, and the
      autumn till then promised to be fine and late. I proceeded, as I always
      did, at seven o'clock in the morning, to the General's chamber. I woke
      him, and told him what I had seen. He feigned at first to disbelieve me,
      then leaped from his bed, ran to the window, and, convinced of the sudden
      change, he calmly said, "What! before the middle of October! What a
      country is this! Well, we must make peace!" While he hastily put on his
      clothes I read the journals to him, as was my daily custom. He paid but
      little attention to them.
    
The sudden bad weather sparked his resolve. On October 13th, at dawn, when I opened my window, I saw the mountains blanketed in snow. The night before had been beautiful, and the fall up to that point had seemed to promise a lovely and extended season. I went, as I usually did, to the General's room at seven in the morning. I woke him and told him what I had observed. He initially pretended not to believe me, then jumped out of bed, ran to the window, and, realizing the unexpected change, he calmly said, "What? Before mid-October! What kind of place is this! Well, we need to make peace!" While he hurriedly got dressed, I read the newspapers to him, as was my daily routine. He paid little attention to them.







      Shutting himself up with me in his closet, he reviewed with the greatest
      care all the returns from the different corps of his army. "Here are,"
      said he, "nearly 80,000 effective men. I feed, I pay them: but I can bring
      but 60,000 into the field on the day of battle. I shall gain it, but
      afterwards my force will be reduced 20,000 men—by killed, wounded,
      and prisoners. Then how oppose all the Austrian forces that will march to
      the protection of Vienna? It would be a month before the armies of the
      Rhine could support me, if they should be able; and in a fortnight all the
      roads and passages will be covered deep with snow. It is settled—I
      will make peace. Venice shall pay for the expense of the war and the
      boundary of the Rhine: let the Directory and the lawyers say what they
      like."
    
Shutting himself up with me in his closet, he carefully reviewed all the reports from the different branches of his army. "Here are," he said, "almost 80,000 effective men. I feed and pay them, but I can only bring 60,000 into the field on the day of battle. I will win, but afterwards my force will be reduced by 20,000 men—due to the killed, wounded, and prisoners. So how can I stand against all the Austrian forces that will march to protect Vienna? It will take a month for the armies of the Rhine to support me, if they can at all; and in two weeks all the roads and passages will be covered deep with snow. It’s decided—I will make peace. Venice will cover the costs of the war and the boundary of the Rhine: let the Directory and the lawyers say whatever they want."







      He wrote to the Directory in the following words: "The summits of the
      hills are covered with snow; I cannot, on account of the stipulations
      agreed to for the recommencement of hostilities, begin before
      five-and-twenty days, and by that time we shall be overwhelmed with snow."
    
He wrote to the Directory saying: "The tops of the hills are covered in snow; I can't, due to the terms we agreed on for restarting hostilities, start for another twenty-five days, and by then we will be buried in snow."







      Fourteen years after, another early winter, in a more severe climate, was
      destined to have a fatal influence on his fortunes. Had he but then
      exercised equal foresight!
    
Fourteen years later, another early winter, in a harsher climate, was set to have a disastrous impact on his fortunes. If only he had shown the same foresight back then!







      It is well known that, by the treaty of Campo-Formio, the two belligerent
      powers made peace at the expense of the Republic of Venice, which had
      nothing to do with the quarrel in the first instance, and which only
      interfered at a late period, probably against her own inclination, and
      impelled by the force of inevitable circumstances. But what has been the
      result of this great political spoliation? A portion of the Venetian
      territory was adjudged to the Cisalpine Republic; it is now in the
      possession of Austria.
    
It’s well known that, by the Treaty of Campo-Formio, the two warring powers made peace at the expense of the Republic of Venice, which wasn’t involved in the conflict to begin with, and only got involved later, likely against its own wishes and driven by unavoidable circumstances. But what has come of this significant political theft? Part of Venetian territory was assigned to the Cisalpine Republic; it's now in Austria’s hands.







      Another considerable portion, and the capital itself, fell to the lot of
      Austria in compensation for the Belgic provinces and Lombard, which she
      ceded to France. Austria has now retaken Lombard, and the additions then
      made to it, and Belgium is in the possession of the House of Orange.
      France obtained Corfu and some of the Ionian isles; these now belong to
      England.
    
Another significant part, including the capital itself, went to Austria as compensation for the Belgian provinces and Lombardy, which it handed over to France. Austria has since reclaimed Lombardy and the territories added to it, while Belgium is now under the control of the House of Orange. France acquired Corfu and some of the Ionian islands; these now belong to England.






 —[Afterwards to be ceded by her to Greece. Belgium is free.]— 
 —[Afterwards to be given up by her to Greece. Belgium is free.]—







      Romulus never thought he was founding Rome for Goths and priests.
      Alexander did not foresee that his Egyptian city would belong to the
      Turks; nor did Constantine strip Rome for the benefit of Mahomet II. Why
      then fight for a few paltry villages?
    
Romulus never imagined he was starting Rome for Goths and priests. Alexander didn’t anticipate that his Egyptian city would end up in the hands of the Turks; nor did Constantine plunder Rome for the sake of Mahomet II. So why bother fighting for a few insignificant villages?







      Thus have we been gloriously conquering for Austria and England. An
      ancient State is overturned without noise, and its provinces, after being
      divided among different bordering States, are now all under the dominion
      of Austria. We do not possess a foot of ground in all the fine countries
      we conquered, and which served as compensations for the immense
      acquisitions of the House of Hapsburgh in Italy. Thus that house was
      aggrandised by a war which was to itself most disastrous. But Austria has
      often found other means of extending her dominion than military triumphs,
      as is recorded in the celebrated distich of Mathias Corvinus:
    
So we've been achieving great victories for Austria and England. An ancient state has quietly fallen, and its provinces, which were once spread out among neighboring states, are now all under Austria's control. We don’t actually own any land in all the beautiful areas we conquered, which were supposed to make up for the huge gains the House of Hapsburgh made in Italy. In this way, that house grew powerful through a war that was ultimately disastrous for them. But Austria has often found ways to expand its control beyond just military victories, as noted in the famous couplet by Mathias Corvinus:






     "Bella gerunt alli, to felix Austria nube;
     Nam quae Mars allis, dat tibi regna Venus."

     ["Glad Austria wins by Hymen's silken chain
     What other States by doubtful battle gain,
     And while fierce Mars enriches meaner lands,
     Receives possession from fair Venus' hands."]

     "Beautiful Austria triumphs through the smooth bond of marriage;  
     For what other states conquer through uncertain battles,  
     While fierce Mars enriches less worthy lands,  
     It receives its rightful place from the hands of fair Venus."







      The Directory was far from being satisfied with the treaty of
      Campo-Formio, and with difficulty resisted the temptation of not ratifying
      it. A fortnight before the signature the Directors wrote to General
      Bonaparte that they would not consent to give to the Emperor Venice,
      Frioul, Padua, and the 'terra firma' with the boundary of the Adige.
      "That," said they, "would not be to make peace, but to adjourn the war. We
      shall be regarded as the beaten party, independently of the disgrace of
      abandoning Venice, which Bonaparte himself thought so worthy of freedom.
      France ought not, and never will wish, to see Italy delivered up to
      Austria. The Directory would prefer the chances of a war to changing a
      single word of its ultimatum, which is already too favourable to Austria."
    
The Directory was far from happy with the treaty of Campo-Formio and struggled to resist the urge not to ratify it. Two weeks before the signing, the Directors wrote to General Bonaparte that they would not agree to hand over Venice, Frioul, Padua, and the 'terra firma' with the Adige boundary to the Emperor. "That," they said, "wouldn't be making peace, but just postponing the war. We would be seen as the defeated side, not to mention the shame of abandoning Venice, which Bonaparte himself considered so deserving of freedom. France should not, and will never want to, see Italy given up to Austria. The Directory would rather take the risks of war than change a single word of its ultimatum, which is already too favorable to Austria."







      All this was said in vain. Bonaparte made no scruple of disregarding his
      instructions. It has been said that the Emperor of Austria made an offer
      of a very considerable sum of money, and even of a principality, to obtain
      favourable terms. I was never able to find the slightest ground for this
      report, which refers to a time when the smallest circumstance could not
      escape my notice. The character of Bonaparte stood too high for him to
      sacrifice his glory as a conqueror and peacemaker for even the greatest
      private advantage. This was so thoroughly known, and he was so profoundly
      esteemed by the Austrian plenipotentiaries, that I will venture to say
      none of them would have been capable of making the slightest overture to
      him of so debasing a proposition. Besides, it would have induced him to
      put an end to all intercourse with the plenipotentiaries. Perhaps what I
      have just stated of M. de Gallo will throw some light upon this odious
      accusation. But let us dismiss this story with the rest, and among them
      that of the porcelain tray, which was said to have been smashed and thrown
      at the head of M. de Cobentzel. I certainly know nothing of any such
      scene; our manners at Passeriano were not quite so bad!
    
All this was said in vain. Bonaparte had no qualms about ignoring his instructions. It's been claimed that the Emperor of Austria offered a significant sum of money, and even a principality, to secure favorable terms. I was never able to find any basis for this report, especially during a time when even the smallest detail couldn’t escape my attention. Bonaparte’s character was too high for him to sacrifice his reputation as a conqueror and peacemaker for even the largest personal benefit. This was widely recognized, and he was so deeply respected by the Austrian negotiators that I can confidently say none of them would have even considered making such a degrading proposal. Moreover, it would have led him to sever all communication with the negotiators. Perhaps what I just mentioned about M. de Gallo sheds some light on this awful accusation. But let's put this story aside, along with the one about the porcelain tray allegedly smashed and thrown at M. de Cobentzel’s head. I certainly know nothing about such an incident; our manners at Passeriano were not that bad!







      The presents customary on such occasions were given, and the Emperor of
      Austria also took that opportunity to present to General Bonaparte six
      magnificent white horses.
    
The usual gifts for such events were given, and the Emperor of Austria also took the chance to gift General Bonaparte six magnificent white horses.







      Bonaparte returned to Milan by way of Gratz, Laybach, Thrust, Mestre,
      Verona, and Mantua.
    
Bonaparte returned to Milan through Gratz, Laybach, Thrust, Mestre, Verona, and Mantua.







      At this period Napoleon was still swayed by the impulse of the age. He
      thought of nothing but representative governments. Often has he said to
      me, "I should like the era of representative governments to be dated from
      my time." His conduct in Italy and his proclamations ought to give, and in
      fact do give, weight to this account of his opinion. But there is no doubt
      that this idea was more connected with lofty views of ambition than a
      sincere desire for the benefit of the human race; for, at a later period,
      he adopted this phrase: "I should like to be the head of the most ancient
      of the dynasties of Europe." What a difference between Bonaparte, the
      author of the 'Souper de Beaucaire', the subduer of royalism at Toulon;
      the author of the remonstrance to Albitte and Salicetti, the fortunate
      conqueror of the 13th Vendemiaire, the instigator and supporter of the
      revolution of Fructidor, and the founder of the Republics of Italy, the
      fruits of his immortal victories,—and Bonaparte, First Consul in
      1800, Consul for life in 1802, and, above all, Napoleon, Emperor of the
      French in 1804, and King of Italy in 1805!
    
During this time, Napoleon was still influenced by the spirit of the age. He focused solely on representative governments. He often said to me, "I want the era of representative governments to be dated from my time." His actions in Italy and his proclamations support this view of his beliefs. However, it’s clear that this idea was more tied to his ambitious aspirations than to any genuine desire for the betterment of humanity; later, he expressed this sentiment: "I want to be the head of the most ancient dynasties in Europe." The contrast is striking between Bonaparte, the author of the 'Souper de Beaucaire', the conqueror of royalism at Toulon; the writer of the appeal to Albitte and Salicetti, the victorious conqueror of the 13th Vendemiaire, the driving force and supporter of the Fructidor revolution, and the founder of the Republics of Italy, the outcomes of his legendary victories—and Bonaparte, First Consul in 1800, Consul for life in 1802, and, most notably, Napoleon, Emperor of the French in 1804, and King of Italy in 1805!








 


 




















      CHAPTER XI.
    



      1797
    
1797


   Effect of the 18th Fructidor on the peace—The standard of the army
   of Italy—Honours rendered to the memory of General Hoche and of
   Virgil at Mantua—Remarkable letter—In passing through Switzerland
   Bonaparte visits the field of Morat—Arrival at Rastadt—Letter from
   the Directory calling Bonaparte to Paris—Intrigues against
   Josephine—Grand ceremony on the reception of Bonaparte by the
   Directory—The theatres—Modesty of Bonaparte—An assassination—
   Bonaparte's opinion of the Parisians—His election to the National
   Institute—Letter to Camus—Projects—Reflections.

   Effect of the 18th Fructidor on the peace—the status of the army in Italy—Tributes paid to the memory of General Hoche and Virgil in Mantua—Notable letter—While passing through Switzerland, Bonaparte visits the field of Morat—Arrival at Rastadt—Letter from the Directory calling Bonaparte to Paris—Intrigues against Josephine—Grand ceremony welcoming Bonaparte by the Directory—The theaters—Bonaparte's modesty—An assassination—Bonaparte's view of the Parisians—His election to the National Institute—Letter to Camus—Projects—Reflections.







      The day of the 18th Fructidor had, without any doubt, mainly contributed
      to the conclusion of peace at Campo Formio. On the one hand, the
      Directory, hitherto not very pacifically inclined, after having effected a
      'coup d'etat', at length saw the necessity of appeasing the discontented
      by giving peace to France. On the other hand, the Cabinet of Vienna,
      observing the complete failure of all the royalist plots in the interior,
      thought it high time to conclude with the French Republic a treaty which,
      notwithstanding all the defeats Austria had sustained, still left her a
      preponderating influence over Italy.
    
The day of the 18th Fructidor definitely played a key role in achieving peace at Campo Formio. On one side, the Directory, which had not been very inclined towards peace until then, realized it needed to calm the unrest by bringing peace to France after carrying out a 'coup d'état'. On the other side, the Vienna Cabinet, noticing the total collapse of all royalist schemes within the country, felt it was the right moment to finalize a treaty with the French Republic that, despite all the defeats Austria had faced, still allowed it to maintain considerable influence over Italy.







      Besides, the campaign of Italy, so fertile in glorious achievements of
      arms, had not been productive of glory alone. Something of greater
      importance followed these conquests. Public affairs had assumed a somewhat
      unusual aspect, and a grand moral influence, the effect of victories and
      of peace, had begun to extend all over France. Republicanism was no longer
      so sanguinary and fierce as it had been some years before. Bonaparte,
      negotiating with princes and their ministers on a footing of equality, but
      still with all that superiority to which victory and his genius entitled
      him, gradually taught foreign courts to be familiar with Republican
      France, and the Republic to cease regarding all States governed by Kings
      as of necessity enemies.
    
Besides, the campaign in Italy, which was full of glorious military achievements, didn't just bring fame. It also led to something more significant. Public affairs had taken on a somewhat unusual tone, and a strong moral influence, stemming from both victories and peace, began to spread throughout France. Republicanism was no longer as violent and aggressive as it had been a few years earlier. Bonaparte, negotiating with princes and their ministers as equals while still maintaining the superiority that victory and his talent granted him, gradually taught foreign courts to be familiar with Republican France and helped the Republic stop viewing all states run by kings as necessary enemies.







      In these circumstances the General-in-Chief's departure and his expected
      visit to Paris excited general attention. The feeble Directory was
      prepared to submit to the presence of the conqueror of Italy in the
      capital.
    
In this situation, the General-in-Chief's departure and his anticipated visit to Paris drew widespread attention. The weak Directory was ready to accept the presence of the conqueror of Italy in the capital.







      It was for the purpose of acting as head of the French legation at the
      Congress of Rastadt that Bonaparte quitted Milan on the 17th of November.
      But before his departure he sent to the Directory one of those monuments,
      the inscriptions on which may generally be considered as fabulous, but
      which, in this case, were nothing but the truth. This monument was the
      "flag of the Army of Italy," and to General Joubert was assigned the
      honourable duty of presenting it to the members of the Executive
      Government.
    
It was to serve as the head of the French legation at the Congress of Rastadt that Bonaparte left Milan on November 17th. However, before he left, he sent the Directory one of those monuments, which are usually seen as exaggerated, but in this case, were completely accurate. This monument was the "flag of the Army of Italy," and General Joubert was given the honorable task of presenting it to the members of the Executive Government.







      On one side of the flag were the words "To the Army of Italy, the grateful
      country." The other contained an enumeration of the battles fought and
      places taken, and presented, in the following inscriptions, a simple but
      striking abridgment of the history of the Italian campaign.
    
On one side of the flag were the words "To the Army of Italy, the grateful country." The other side listed the battles fought and the places captured, providing a straightforward yet powerful summary of the history of the Italian campaign.






   150,000 PRISONERS; 170 STANDARDS; 550 PIECES OF SIEGE ARTILLERY;
   600 PIECES OF FIELD ARTILLERY; FIVE PONTOON EQUIPAGES; NINE 64-GUN
   SHIPS; TWELVE 32-GUN FRIGATES; 12 CORVETTES; 18 GALLEYS; ARMISTICE
   WITH THE KING OF SARDINIA; CONVENTION WITH GENOA; ARMISTICE WITH THE
   DUKE OF PARMA; ARMISTICE WITH THE KING OF NAPLES; ARMISTICE WITH THE
   POPE; PRELIMINARIES OF LEOBEN; CONVENTION OF MONTEBELLO WITH THE
   REPUBLIC OF GENOA; TREATY OF PEACE WITH THE EMPEROR OF GERMANY AT
   CAMPO-FORMIO.

   LIBERTY GIVEN TO THE PEOPLE OF BOLOGNA, FERRARA, MODENA,
   MASSA-CARRARA, LA ROMAGNA, LOMBARD, BRESCIA, BERGAMO, MANTUA, CREMONA.
   PART OF THE VERONESE, CHIAVENA, BORMIO, THE VALTELINE, THE GENOESE,
   THE IMPERIAL FIEFS, THE PEOPLE OF THE DEPARTMENTS OF CORCYRA, OF THE
   AEGEAN SEA, AND OF ITHACA.

   SENT TO PARIS ALL THE MASTERPIECES OF MICHAEL ANGELO, OF GVERCINO,
   OF TITIAN, OF PAUL VERONESE, OF CORREGGIO, OF ALBANA, OF THE
   CARRACCI, OF RAPHAEL, AND OF LEONARDO DA VINCI.

   150,000 PRISONERS; 170 STANDARDS; 550 PIECES OF SIEGE ARTILLERY;  
   600 PIECES OF FIELD ARTILLERY; FIVE PONTOON EQUIPAGES; NINE 64-GUN  
   SHIPS; TWELVE 32-GUN FRIGATES; 12 CORVETTES; 18 GALLEYS; ARMISTICE  
   WITH THE KING OF SARDINIA; CONVENTION WITH GENOA; ARMISTICE WITH THE  
   DUKE OF PARMA; ARMISTICE WITH THE KING OF NAPLES; ARMISTICE WITH THE  
   POPE; PRELIMINARIES OF LEOBEN; CONVENTION OF MONTEBELLO WITH THE  
   REPUBLIC OF GENOA; TREATY OF PEACE WITH THE EMPEROR OF GERMANY AT  
   CAMPO-FORMIO.

   FREEDOM GRANTED TO THE PEOPLE OF BOLOGNA, FERRARA, MODENA,  
   MASSA-CARRARA, LA ROMAGNA, LOMBARDY, BRESCIA, BERGAMO, MANTUA, CREMONA.  
   PART OF THE VERONESE, CHIAVENA, BORMIO, THE VALTELINE, THE GENOESE,  
   THE IMPERIAL FIEFS, THE PEOPLE OF THE DEPARTMENTS OF CORCYRA, OF THE  
   AEGEAN SEA, AND OF ITHACA.

   SENT TO PARIS ALL THE MASTERPIECES OF MICHAEL ANGELO, GVERCINO,  
   TITIAN, PAUL VERONESE, CORREGGIO, ALBANI, THE CARRACCI, RAPHAEL, AND  
   LEONARDO DA VINCI.







      Thus were recapitulated on a flag, destined to decorate the Hall of the
      Public Sittings of the Directory, the military deeds of the campaign in
      Italy, its political results, and the conquest of the monuments of art.
    
Thus, the military accomplishments of the campaign in Italy, along with its political outcomes and the capture of artistic monuments, were summarized on a flag intended to adorn the Hall of the Public Sittings of the Directory.







      Most of the Italian cities looked upon their conqueror as a liberator—such
      was the magic of the word liberty, which resounded from the Alps to the
      Apennines. On his way to Mantua the General took up his residence in the
      palace of the ancient dukes. Bonaparte promised the authorities of Mantua
      that their department should be one of the most extensive; impressed on
      them the necessity of promptly organising a local militia, and of putting
      in execution the plans of Mari, the mathematician, for the navigation of
      the Mincio from Mantua to Peschiera.
    
Most of the Italian cities viewed their conqueror as a liberator—such was the power of the word freedom, which echoed from the Alps to the Apennines. On his way to Mantua, the General settled in the palace of the ancient dukes. Bonaparte assured the authorities of Mantua that their region would be one of the largest; he emphasized the need to quickly organize a local militia and to implement the plans of Mari, the mathematician, for navigating the Mincio from Mantua to Peschiera.







      He stopped two days at Mantua, and the morrow of his arrival was devoted
      to the celebration of a military funeral solemnity, in honour of General
      Hoche, who had just died. His next object was to hasten the execution of
      the monument which was erecting to the memory of Virgil. Thus, in one day,
      he paid honour to France and Italy, to modern and to ancient glory, to the
      laurels of war and to the laurels of poetry.
    
He stayed in Mantua for two days, and the day after he arrived was dedicated to a military funeral ceremony honoring General Hoche, who had recently passed away. His next goal was to speed up the construction of the monument being built in memory of Virgil. In just one day, he paid tribute to both France and Italy, to modern and ancient glory, to the laurels of war and the laurels of poetry.







      A person who saw Bonaparte on this occasion for the first time thus
      described him in a letter he wrote to Paris:—"With lively interest
      and extreme attention I have observed this extraordinary man, who has
      performed such great deeds, and about whom there is something which seems
      to indicate that his career is not yet terminated. I found him very like
      his portraits—little, thin, pale, with an air of fatigue, but not of
      ill-health, as has been reported of him. He appears to me to listen with
      more abstraction than interest, and that he was more occupied with what he
      was thinking of than with what was said to him. There is great
      intelligence in his countenance, along with which may be marked an air of
      habitual meditation, which reveals nothing of what is passing within. In
      that thinking head, in that bold mind, it is impossible not to believe
      that some daring designs are engendering which will have their influence
      an the destinies of Europe."
    
A person who saw Bonaparte for the first time on this occasion described him in a letter to Paris:—"With great interest and close attention, I observed this remarkable man, who has accomplished such significant things, and there’s something about him that suggests his journey isn’t over yet. He looks just like his portraits—short, thin, pale, with an air of weariness, but not from illness, as has been claimed. To me, he seems to listen more in thought than with interest, preoccupied with his own ideas rather than what’s being said. There’s a lot of intelligence in his face, combined with a look of deep contemplation that doesn’t reveal what’s going on inside. In that thoughtful head and bold mind, it’s hard not to believe he’s developing some ambitious plans that will impact the fate of Europe."







      From the last phrase, in particular, of this letter, one might suspect
      that it was written after Bonaparte had made his name feared throughout
      Europe; but it really appeared in a journal in the month of December 1797,
      a little before his arrival in Paris.
    
From the last phrase, in particular, of this letter, one might suspect that it was written after Bonaparte had made his name feared throughout Europe; but it really appeared in a journal in December 1797, just before his arrival in Paris.







      There exists a sort of analogy between celebrated men and celebrated
      places; it was not, therefore, an uninteresting spectacle to see Bonaparte
      surveying the field of Morat, where, in 1476, Charles the Bold, Duke of
      Burgundy, daring like himself, fell with his powerful army under the
      effects of Helvetian valour. Bonaparte slept during the night at Maudon,
      where, as in every place through which he passed, the greatest honours
      were paid him. In the morning, his carriage having broken down, we
      continued our journey an foot, accompanied only by some officers and an
      escort of dragoons of the country. Bonaparte stopped near the Ossuary, and
      desired to be shown the spot where the battle of Morat was fought. A plain
      in front of the chapel was pointed out to him. An officer who had served
      in France was present, and explained to him how the Swiss, descending from
      the neighbouring mountains, were enabled, under cover of a wood, to turn
      the Burgundian army and put it to the rout. "What was the force of that
      army?" asked Bonaparte.—"Sixty thousand men."—"Sixty thousand
      men!" he exclaimed: "they ought to have completely covered these
      mountains!"—"The French fight better now," said Lannes, who was one
      of the officers of his suite. "At that time," observed Bonaparte,
      interrupting him, "the Burgundians were not Frenchmen."
    
There's a kind of comparison between famous people and famous places; so it wasn't boring to watch Bonaparte looking over the battlefield of Morat, where, in 1476, Charles the Bold, Duke of Burgundy, bold like him, fell with his strong army due to Swiss bravery. Bonaparte spent the night at Maudon, where, like everywhere he went, he received the highest honors. In the morning, after his carriage broke down, we continued our journey on foot, with just a few officers and a local escort of dragoons. Bonaparte stopped near the Ossuary and wanted to see where the battle of Morat happened. A plain in front of the chapel was pointed out to him. An officer who had served in France explained how the Swiss, coming down from the nearby mountains, managed, under cover of woods, to outflank the Burgundian army and cause their defeat. "What was the size of that army?" Bonaparte asked. "Sixty thousand men." "Sixty thousand men!" he exclaimed: "they should have easily covered these mountains!" "The French fight better now," said Lannes, one of his officers. "At that time," Bonaparte interrupted, "the Burgundians were not Frenchmen."







      Bonaparte's journey through Switzerland was not without utility; and his
      presence served to calm more than one inquietude. He proceeded on his
      journey to Rastadt by Aix in Savoy, Berne, and Bale. On arriving at Berne
      during night we passed through a double file of well-lighted equipages,
      filled with beautiful women, all of whom raised the cry of "Long live,
      Bonaparte!—long live the Pacificator!" To have a proper idea of this
      genuine enthusiasm it is necessary to have seen it.
    
Bonaparte's trip through Switzerland had its benefits; his presence helped ease a lot of worries. He continued his journey to Rastadt via Aix in Savoy, Berne, and Basel. When we arrived in Berne at night, we passed through a line of well-lit carriages filled with beautiful women, all of whom shouted, "Long live Bonaparte! Long live the Pacificator!" To truly appreciate this genuine enthusiasm, you had to witness it.







      The position in society to which his services had raised him rendered it
      unfit to address him in the second person singular and the familiar manner
      sometimes used by his old schoolfellows of Brienne. I thought, this very
      natural.
    
The social position his services had elevated him to made it inappropriate to address him in the second person singular and the casual way sometimes used by his old classmates from Brienne. I found this quite natural.







      M. de Cominges, one of those who went with him to the military school at
      Paris, and who had emigrated, was at Bale. Having learned our arrival, he
      presented himself without ceremony, with great indecorum, and with a
      complete disregard of the respect due to a man who had rendered himself so
      illustrious. General Bonaparte, offended at this behaviour, refused to
      receive him again, and expressed himself to me with much warmth on the
      occasion of this visit. All my efforts to remove his displeasure were
      unavailing, this impression always continued, and he never did for M. de
      Cominges what his means and the old ties of boyhood might well have
      warranted.
    
M. de Cominges, one of the people who went with him to the military school in Paris and who had emigrated, was in Basel. After hearing about our arrival, he showed up uninvited, acting quite rudely and completely ignoring the respect owed to someone who had achieved such prominence. General Bonaparte, annoyed by this behavior, refused to see him again and expressed his anger to me passionately during this visit. No matter what I did to ease his displeasure, I couldn’t change his mind; this negative impression stuck, and he never did for M. de Cominges what his status and their childhood friendship would have justified.







      On arriving at Rastadt
    
Upon arriving at Rastadt






 —[The conference for the formal peace with the Empire of Germany
   was held there. The peace of Leoben was only one made with
   Austria.]— 
 —[The conference for the formal peace with the German Empire was held there. The peace of Leoben was only made with Austria.]—







      Bonaparte found a letter from the Directory summoning him to Paris. He
      eagerly obeyed this invitation, which drew him from a place where he could
      act only an insignificant part, and which he had determined to leave soon,
      never again to return. Some time after his arrival in Paris, on the ground
      that his presence was necessary for the execution of different orders, and
      the general despatch of business, he required that authority should be
      given to a part of his household, which he had left at Rastadt, to return.
    
Bonaparte got a letter from the Directory calling him to Paris. He quickly accepted this invitation, which pulled him away from a place where he could only play a small role, and where he had planned to leave soon, never to come back. After he arrived in Paris, claiming that his presence was needed to carry out various orders and to manage business, he requested that permission be granted for some of his staff, whom he had left in Rastadt, to return.







      How could it ever be said that the Directory "kept General Bonaparte away
      from the great interests which were under discussion at Rastadt"? Quite
      the contrary! The Directory would have been delighted to see him return
      there, as they would then have been relieved from his presence in Paris;
      but nothing was so disagreeable to Bonaparte as long and seemingly
      interminable negotiations. Such tedious work did not suit his character,
      and he had been sufficiently disgusted with similar proceedings at
      Campo-Formio.
    
How could anyone claim that the Directory "kept General Bonaparte away from the important discussions happening at Rastadt"? On the contrary! The Directory would have been thrilled to have him go back, as that would mean they could have a break from his presence in Paris; but nothing annoyed Bonaparte more than lengthy and seemingly endless negotiations. That kind of tedious work wasn't his style, and he had already been thoroughly frustrated with similar situations at Campo-Formio.







      On our arrival at Rastadt I soon found that General Bonaparte was
      determined to stay there only a short time. I therefore expressed to him
      my decided desire to remain in Germany. I was then ignorant that my
      erasure from the emigrant list had been ordered on the 11th of November,
      as the decree did not reach the commissary of the Executive Directory at
      Auxerre until the 17th of November, the day of our departure from Milan.
    
On our arrival at Rastadt, I quickly realized that General Bonaparte was set on staying there for only a brief period. I therefore told him that I strongly wanted to remain in Germany. At that time, I was unaware that my removal from the emigrant list had been ordered on November 11th, since the decree didn’t reach the commissary of the Executive Directory in Auxerre until November 17th, the day we left Milan.







      The silly pretext of difficulties by which my erasure, notwithstanding the
      reiterated solicitations of the victorious General, was so long delayed
      made me apprehensive of a renewal, under a weak and jealous pentarchy, of
      the horrible scenes of 1796. Bonaparte said to me, in atone of
      indignation, "Come, pass the Rhine; they will not dare to seize you while
      near me. I answer for your safety." On reaching Paris I found that my
      erasure had taken place. It was at this period only that General
      Bonaparte's applications in my favour were tardily crowned with success.
      Sotin, the Minister of General Police, notified the fact to Bonaparte; but
      his letter gave a reason for my erasure very different from that stated in
      the decree. The Minister said that the Government did not wish to leave
      among the names of traitors to their country the name of a citizen who was
      attached to the person of the conqueror of Italy; while the decree itself
      stated as the motive for removing my name from the list that I never had
      emigrated.
    
The ridiculous excuse of complications that delayed my removal, despite the repeated requests from the victorious General, made me anxious about a potential return to the terrible events of 1796, under a weak and jealous ruling council. Bonaparte said to me, with a tone of indignation, "Come, cross the Rhine; they won't dare to take you while you're near me. I guarantee your safety." When I arrived in Paris, I found out that my removal had finally happened. It was only at this time that General Bonaparte's efforts on my behalf were finally successful. Sotin, the Minister of General Police, informed Bonaparte of this, but his letter gave a reason for my removal that was very different from what was stated in the official decree. The Minister claimed that the Government didn't want to leave among the names of traitors the name of a citizen who was connected to the conqueror of Italy; however, the decree itself cited as the reason for my removal that I had never emigrated.







      At St. Helena it seems Bonaparte said that he did not return from Italy
      with more than 300,000 francs; but I assert that he had at that time in
      his possession something more than 3,000,000.
    
At St. Helena, it seems Bonaparte claimed that he returned from Italy with only about 300,000 francs; however, I maintain that he actually had more than 3,000,000 at that time.






 —[Joseph says that Napoleon, when he exiled for Egypt, left with
   him all his fortune, and that it was much nearer 300,000 francs than
   3,000,000. (See Erreurs, tome i. pp. 243, 259)]— 
—[Joseph claims that when Napoleon was exiled to Egypt, he took all his wealth with him, which was closer to 300,000 francs than 3,000,000. (See Erreurs, tome i. pp. 243, 259)]—







      How could he with 300,000 francs have been able to provide for the
      extensive repairs, the embellishment, and the furnishing of his house in
      the Rue Chantereine? How could he have supported the establishment he did
      with only 15,000 francs of income and the emoluments of his rank? The
      excursion which he made along the coast, of which I have yet to speak, of
      itself cost near 12,000 francs in gold, which he transferred to me to
      defray the expense of the journey; and I do not think that this sum was
      ever repaid him. Besides, what did it signify, for any object he might
      have in disguising his fortune, whether he brought 3,000,000 or 300,000
      francs with him from Italy? No one will accuse him of peculation. He was
      an inflexible administrator. He was always irritated at the discovery of
      fraud, and pursued those guilty of it with all the vigour of his
      character. He wished to be independent, which he well knew that no one
      could be without fortune. He has often said to me, "I am no Capuchin, not
      I." But after having been allowed only 300,000 francs on his arrival from
      the rich Italy, where fortune never abandoned him, it has been printed
      that he had 20,000,000 (some have even doubled the amount) on his return
      from Egypt, which is a very poor country, where money is scarce, and where
      reverses followed close upon his victories. All these reports are false.
      What he brought from Italy has just been stated, and it will be seen when
      we come to Egypt what treasure he carried away from the country of the
      Pharaohs.
    
How could he, with 300,000 francs, have afforded the extensive repairs, the decoration, and the furnishing of his house on Rue Chantereine? How could he maintain the lifestyle he had with only 15,000 francs in income and the perks of his rank? The trip he took along the coast, which I’ll discuss later, cost nearly 12,000 francs in gold, which he transferred to me to cover the journey's expenses; I don’t think he was ever reimbursed for that. Besides, what did it matter if he wanted to hide his wealth, whether he brought back 3,000,000 or 300,000 francs from Italy? No one would accuse him of wrongdoing. He was a strict manager. He was always frustrated by discovering fraud and pursued those responsible with all the strength of his character. He wanted to be independent, and he knew well that no one could be truly independent without money. He often said to me, "I'm no Capuchin, that's for sure." But after being allowed only 300,000 francs when he came from the wealthy Italy, where he was never short of fortune, it was reported that he had 20,000,000 (some even claimed double that) upon his return from Egypt, a country that is very poor, where money is hard to find, and where setbacks came quickly after his victories. All these reports are false. What he brought from Italy has already been stated, and it will be clear when we discuss Egypt what treasures he took from the land of the Pharaohs.







      Bonaparte's brothers, desirous of obtaining complete dominion over his
      mind, strenuously endeavoured to lessen the influence which Josephine
      possessed from the love of her husband. They tried to excite his jealousy,
      and took advantage of her stay at Milan after our departure, which had
      been authorised by Bonaparte himself. My intimacy with both the husband
      and the wife fortunately afforded me an opportunity of averting or
      lessening a good deal of mischief. If Josephine still lived she would
      allow me this merit. I never took part against her but once, and that
      unwillingly. It was on the subject of the marriage of her daughter
      Hortense. Josephine had never as yet spoken to me on the subject.
      Bonaparte wished to give his stepdaughter to Duroc, and his brothers were
      eager to promote the marriage, because they wished to separate Josephine
      from Hortense, for whom Bonaparte felt the tenderest affection. Josephine,
      on the other hand, wished Hortense to marry Louis Bonaparte. Her motives,
      as may easily be divined, were to, gain support in a family where she
      experienced nothing but enmity, and she carried her point.
    
Bonaparte's brothers, wanting to have complete control over him, worked hard to reduce the influence Josephine had from her husband's love. They tried to stir up jealousy in him and used her time in Milan after we left, which Bonaparte had personally allowed. My close relationship with both the husband and wife luckily gave me a chance to prevent or lessen a lot of trouble. If Josephine were still alive, she would acknowledge my role in this. I only went against her once, and that was reluctantly. It was about the marriage of her daughter Hortense. Josephine had never discussed it with me before. Bonaparte wanted to marry his stepdaughter to Duroc, and his brothers were eager to support this marriage because they wanted to separate Josephine from Hortense, whom Bonaparte cared for deeply. Josephine, on the other hand, wanted Hortense to marry Louis Bonaparte. Her reasons, as you can easily guess, were to gain support in a family where she faced nothing but hostility, and she succeeded.






 —[Previous to her marriage with Louis, Hortense cherished an
   attachment for Duroc, who was at that time a handsome man about
   thirty, and a great favourite of Bonaparte. However, the
   indifference with which Duroc regarded the marriage of Louis
   Bonaparte sufficiently proves that the regard with which he had
   inspired Hortense was not very ardently returned. It is certain
   that Duroc might have become the husband of Mademoiselle de
   Beauharnais had he been willing to accede to the conditions on which
   the First Consul offered him his step-daughter's hand. But Duroc
   looked forward to something better, and his ordinary prudence
   forsook him at a moment when he might easily have beheld a
   perspective calculated to gratify even a more towering ambition than
   his. He declined the proposed marriage; and the union of Hortense
   and Louis, which Madame Bonaparte, to conciliate the favour of her
   brothers-in-law, had endeavoured to bring about, was immediately
   determined on (Memoires de Constant).

   In allusion to the alleged unfriendly feeling of Napoleon's brothers
   towards Josephine, the following observation occurs in Joseph
   Bonaparte's Notes on Bourrienne:

   "None of Napoleon's brothers," he says, "were near him from the time
   of his departure for Italy except Louis who cannot be suspected of
   having intrigued against Josephine, whose daughter he married.
   These calumnies are without foundation" (Erreurs, tome i. p. 244)]— 
—[Before her marriage to Louis, Hortense had feelings for Duroc, who was a handsome man in his thirties and a favorite of Bonaparte at the time. However, Duroc's indifference towards Louis Bonaparte's marriage shows that the feelings he inspired in Hortense weren't reciprocated with much passion. It's clear that Duroc could have become Mademoiselle de Beauharnais's husband if he had accepted the conditions the First Consul set for marrying his stepdaughter. But Duroc was aiming for something better, and he let his usual caution slip away at a moment when he could have seen an opportunity that would satisfy even greater ambitions. He declined the marriage proposal, and the union of Hortense and Louis, which Madame Bonaparte sought to arrange to win the favor of her brothers-in-law, was quickly finalized (Memoires de Constant).

   Referring to the supposed ill feelings of Napoleon's brothers towards Josephine, Joseph Bonaparte remarks in his Notes on Bourrienne:

   "None of Napoleon's brothers," he states, "were near him from the time he left for Italy except Louis, who cannot be suspected of conspiring against Josephine, since he married her daughter. These rumors are baseless" (Erreurs, tome i. p. 244)]—







      On his arrival from Rastadt the most magnificent preparations were made at
      the Luxembourg for the reception of Bonaparte. The grand court of the
      Palace was elegantly ornamented; and at its farther end, close to the
      Palace, a large amphitheatre was erected for the accommodation of official
      persons. Curiosity, as on all like occasions, attracted multitudes, and
      the court was filled. Opposite to the principal vestibule stood the altar
      of the country, surrounded by the statues of Liberty, Equality, and Peace.
      When Bonaparte entered every head was uncovered. The windows were full of
      young and beautiful females. But notwithstanding this great preparation an
      icy coldness characterized the ceremony. Every one seemed to be present
      only for the purpose of beholding a sight, and curiosity was the
      prevailing expression rather than joy or gratitude. It is but right to
      say, however, that an unfortunate event contributed to the general
      indifference. The right wing of the Palace was not occupied, but great
      preparations had been making there, and an officer had been directed to
      prevent anyone from ascending. One of the clerks of the Directory,
      however, contrived to get upon the scaffolding, but had scarcely placed
      his foot on the first plank when it tilted up, and the imprudent man fell
      the whole height into the court. This accident created a general stupor.
      Ladies fainted, and the windows were nearly deserted.
    
When he arrived from Rastadt, there were spectacular preparations at the Luxembourg to welcome Bonaparte. The grand court of the Palace was beautifully decorated, and at the far end, near the Palace, a large amphitheater was set up for official guests. As usual, curiosity drew crowds, filling the court. Opposite the main entrance stood the altar of the country, surrounded by statues of Liberty, Equality, and Peace. When Bonaparte walked in, everyone removed their hats. The windows were filled with young, beautiful women. However, despite the grand setup, the atmosphere was icy. It seemed like everyone was there just to witness an event, with curiosity being the dominant sentiment rather than joy or gratitude. It's important to mention that an unfortunate incident added to the general indifference. The right wing of the Palace was empty, but there had been extensive preparations there, and an officer was assigned to keep people from going up. Nevertheless, one of the clerks from the Directory managed to climb onto the scaffolding; however, just as he stepped onto the first plank, it tipped, and he fell from the full height into the court. This accident stunned the crowd. Ladies fainted, and the windows quickly became nearly empty.







      However, the Directory displayed all the Republican splendour of which
      they were so prodigal on similar occasions. Speeches were far from being
      scarce. Talleyrand, who was then Minister for Foreign Affairs, on
      introducing Bonaparte to the Directory, made a long oration, in the course
      of which he hinted that the personal greatness of the General ought not to
      excite uneasiness, even in a rising Republic. "Far from apprehending
      anything from his ambition, I believe that we shall one day be obliged to
      solicit him to tear himself from the pleasures of studious retirement. All
      France will be free, but perhaps he never will; such is his destiny."
    
However, the Directory showcased all the Republican grandeur they often displayed on similar occasions. Speeches were definitely not in short supply. Talleyrand, who was then the Minister for Foreign Affairs, made a lengthy speech introducing Bonaparte to the Directory, during which he suggested that the General's personal greatness shouldn't cause worry, even in a growing Republic. "Instead of fearing his ambition, I believe that one day we will have to ask him to step away from the joys of his scholarly retirement. All of France will be free, but perhaps he never will; such is his fate."







      Talleyrand was listened to with impatience, so anxious was every one to
      hear Bonaparte. The conqueror of Italy then rose, and pronounced with a
      modest air, but in a firm voice, a short address of congratulation on the
      improved position of the nation.
    
Talleyrand was met with impatience, as everyone was eager to hear from Bonaparte. The conqueror of Italy then stood up and delivered a brief address of congratulations on the nation's improved situation, projecting modesty but speaking with a confident tone.







      Barras, at that time President of the Directory, replied to Bonaparte with
      so much prolixity as to weary everyone; and as soon as he had finished
      speaking he threw himself into the arms of the General, who was not much
      pleased with such affected displays, and gave him what was then called the
      fraternal embrace. The other members of the Directory, following the
      example of the President, surrounded Bonaparte and pressed him in their
      arms; each acted, to the best of his ability, his part in the sentimental
      comedy.
    
Barras, who was the President of the Directory at the time, responded to Bonaparte with such long-windedness that it bored everyone; and as soon as he finished speaking, he threw himself into the General's arms, who wasn’t very happy with such showy displays, and gave him what was then known as the fraternal embrace. The other members of the Directory, following the President's lead, surrounded Bonaparte and hugged him; each did their best to play their role in this sentimental performance.







      Chenier composed for this occasion a hymn, which Mehul set to music. A few
      days after an opera was produced, bearing the title of the 'Fall of
      Carthage', which was meant as an allusion to the anticipated exploits of
      the conqueror of Italy, recently appointed to the command of the "Army of
      England." The poets were all employed in praising him; and Lebrun, with
      but little of the Pindaric fire in his soul, composed the following
      distich, which certainly is not worth much:
    
Chenier wrote a hymn for this event, which Mehul put to music. A few days later, an opera titled 'The Fall of Carthage' was produced, referencing the expected achievements of the newly appointed commander of the "Army of England," who was also the conqueror of Italy. Poets were busy celebrating him, and Lebrun, lacking much of the Pindaric inspiration, penned the following couplet, which isn’t very impressive:






     "Heros, cher a la paix, aux arts, a la victoire—
     Il conquit en deux ans mille siecles de gloire."

     "Heroes, dear to peace, to the arts, to victory—  
     He conquered in two years a thousand centuries of glory."







      The two councils were not disposed to be behind the Directory in the
      manifestation of joy. A few days after they gave a banquet to the General
      in the gallery of the Louvre, which had recently been enriched by the
      masterpieces of painting conquered in Italy.
    
The two councils were eager to match the Directory in showing their joy. A few days later, they threw a banquet for the General in the gallery of the Louvre, which had recently been enhanced by the paintings captured in Italy.







      At this time Bonaparte displayed great modesty in all his transactions in
      Paris. The administrators of the department of the Seine having sent a
      deputation to him to inquire what hour and day he would allow them to wait
      on him, he carried himself his answer to the department, accompanied by
      General Berthier. It was also remarked that the judge of the peace of the
      arrondissement where the General lived having called on him on the 6th of
      December, the evening of his arrival, he returned the visit next morning.
      These attentions, trifling as they may appear, were not without their
      effect on the minds of the Parisians.
    
At this time, Bonaparte showed a lot of modesty in all his dealings in Paris. When the administrators of the Seine department sent a delegation to ask when he would let them meet with him, he personally delivered his response to them, accompanied by General Berthier. It was also noted that the peace judge from the area where the General lived visited him on the evening of December 6th, the night of his arrival, and he returned the visit the next morning. These gestures, though they may seem small, had a significant impact on the people of Paris.







      In consequence of General Bonaparte's victories, the peace he had
      effected, and the brilliant reception of which he had been the object, the
      business of Vendemiaire was in some measure forgotten. Every one was eager
      to get a sight of the young hero whose career had commenced with so much
      'eclat'. He lived very retiredly, yet went often to the theatre. He
      desired me, one day, to go and request the representation of two of the
      best pieces of the time, in which Elleviou, Mesdames St. Aubin, Phillis,
      and other distinguished performers played. His message was, that he only
      wished these two pieces on the same night, if that were possible. The
      manager told me that nothing that the conqueror of Italy wished for was
      impossible, for he had long ago erased that word from the dictionary.
      Bonaparte laughed heartily at the manager's answer. When we went to the
      theatre he seated himself, as usual, in the back of the box, behind Madame
      Bonaparte, making me sit by her side. The pit and boxes, however, soon
      found out that he was in the house, and loudly called for him. Several
      times an earnest desire to see him was manifested, but all in vain, for he
      never showed himself.
    
Due to General Bonaparte's victories, the peace he had achieved, and the amazing reception he received, the events of Vendemiaire were somewhat forgotten. Everyone was eager to catch a glimpse of the young hero whose career had begun with such flair. He lived quite privately but often went to the theater. One day, he asked me to go and request the performance of two of the best plays of the time, featuring Elleviou, Mesdames St. Aubin, Phillis, and other notable performers. He mentioned that he only wanted these two plays on the same night, if possible. The manager told me that nothing the conqueror of Italy wished for was impossible, as he had long erased that word from his vocabulary. Bonaparte laughed heartily at the manager's response. When we went to the theater, he sat as usual at the back of the box, behind Madame Bonaparte, while I sat beside her. However, the audience soon realized he was in the house and loudly called for him. Several times, there was a strong desire to see him, but it was all in vain, as he never made an appearance.







      Some days after, being at the Theatre des Arts, at the second
      representation of 'Horatius Cocles', although he was sitting at the back
      of a box in the second tier, the audience discovered that he was in the
      house. Immediately acclamations arose from all quarters; but he kept
      himself concealed as much as possible, and said to a person in the next
      box, "Had I known that the boxes were so exposed, I should not have come."
    
A few days later, at the Theatre des Arts during the second performance of 'Horatius Cocles', even though he was seated at the back of a second-tier box, the audience recognized that he was present. Cheers erupted from all around; however, he tried to keep himself hidden as much as he could and told someone in the neighboring box, "If I had known the boxes were so visible, I wouldn't have come."







      During Bonaparte's stay at Paris a woman sent a messenger to warn him that
      his life would be attempted, and that poison was to be employed for that
      purpose. Bonaparte had the bearer of this information arrested, who went,
      accompanied by the judge of the peace, to the woman's house, where she was
      found extended on the floor, and bathed in her blood. The men whose plot
      she had overheard, having discovered that she had revealed their secret,
      murdered her. The poor woman was dreadfully mangled: her throat was cut;
      and, not satisfied with that, the assassins had also hacked her body with
      sharp instruments.
    
During Bonaparte's time in Paris, a woman sent a messenger to warn him that there was a plot to kill him, using poison. Bonaparte had the messenger arrested and, along with a judge, went to the woman's home, where they found her lying on the floor, covered in her blood. The men whose plan she had overheard discovered that she had exposed their secret and killed her. The poor woman was brutally injured: her throat was slashed, and as if that wasn't enough, the attackers had also mutilated her body with sharp tools.







      On the night of the 10th of Nivôse the Rue Chantereine, in which Bonaparte
      had a small house (No. 6), received, in pursuance of a decree of the
      department, the name of Rue de la Victoire. The cries of "Vive Bonaparte!"
      and the incense prodigally offered up to him, did not however seduce him
      from his retired habits. Lately the conqueror and ruler of Italy, and now
      under men for whom he had no respect, and who saw in him a formidable
      rival, he said to me one day, "The people of Paris do not remember
      anything. Were I to remain here long, doing nothing, I should be lost. In
      this great Babylon one reputation displaces another. Let me be seen but
      three times at the theatre and I shall no longer excite attention; so I
      shall go there but seldom." When he went he occupied a box shaded with
      curtains. The manager of the opera wished to get up a special performance
      in his honour; but he declined the offer. When I observed that it must be
      agreeable to him to see his fellow-citizens so eagerly running after him,
      he replied, "Bah! the people would crowd as fast to see me if I were going
      to the scaffold."
    
On the night of the 10th of Nivôse, the Rue Chantereine, where Bonaparte had a small house (No. 6), was renamed Rue de la Victoire following a department decree. The cheers of "Vive Bonaparte!" and the lavish praise directed at him didn’t pull him away from his quiet lifestyle. Recently the conqueror and ruler of Italy, now surrounded by men he didn't respect, who saw him as a serious rival, he told me one day, "The people of Paris don’t remember anything. If I stay here too long, doing nothing, I’ll be forgotten. In this great city, one reputation replaces another. If I show up at the theater three times, I won’t grab any attention. So I’ll only go there rarely." When he did, he took a box with curtains around it. The opera manager wanted to arrange a special performance in his honor, but he turned it down. When I remarked that it must be nice for him to see his fellow citizens so eager to see him, he replied, "Bah! The crowd would rush to see me just as quickly if I were heading to the gallows."






 —[A similar remark made to William III. on his lending at Brixham
   elicited the comment, "Like the Jews, who cried one day 'Hosanna!'
   and the next 'Crucify Him! crucify Him!'"]— 
 —[A similar remark made to William III. about his lending at Brixham
   prompted the comment, "Like the Jews, who shouted one day 'Hosanna!'
   and the next 'Crucify Him! crucify Him!'"]— 







      On the 28th of December Bonaparte was named a member of the Institute, in
      the class of the Sciences and arts.
    
On December 28th, Bonaparte was appointed as a member of the Institute in the class of Sciences and Arts.






 —[Napoleon seems to have really considered this nomination as a
   great honour. He was fond of using the title in his proclamations;
   and to the last the allowance attached to the appointment figured in
   the Imperial accounts. He replaced Carnot, the exiled Director.]— 
—[Napoleon really seemed to view this nomination as a significant honor. He often used the title in his proclamations, and until the end, the allowance associated with the appointment was reflected in the Imperial accounts. He replaced Carnot, the exiled Director.]—







      He showed a deep sense of this honour, and wrote the following letter to
      Camus; the president of the class:
    
He felt a strong appreciation for this honor and wrote the following letter to Camus, the class president:






   CITIZEN PRESIDENT—The suffrage of the distinguished men who compose
   the institute confers a high honour on me. I feel well assured
   that, before I can be their equal, I must long be their scholar. If
   there were any way more expressive than another of making known my
   esteem for you, I should be glad to employ it. True conquests—the
   only ones which leave no regret behind them—are those which are
   made over ignorance. The most honourable, as well as the most
   useful, occupation for nations is the contributing to the extension
   of human knowledge. The true power of the French Republic should
   henceforth be made to consist in not allowing a single new idea to
   exist without making it part of its property.
                            BONAPARTE.

   CITIZEN PRESIDENT—The support of the distinguished men in the institute is a great honor for me. I am convinced that before I can be their equal, I must first be their student for a long time. If there were a better way to express my admiration for you, I would gladly use it. The only true victories—those that leave no regrets—are the ones won over ignorance. The most honorable and beneficial task for nations is to contribute to the growth of human knowledge. The true strength of the French Republic should now focus on ensuring that no new idea exists without becoming part of its legacy.  
                            BONAPARTE.







      The General now renewed, though unsuccessfully, the attempt he had made
      before the 18th Fructidor to obtain a dispensation of the age necessary
      for becoming a Director. Perceiving that the time was not yet favourable
      for such a purpose, he said to me, on the 29th of January 1798,
      "Bourrienne, I do not wish to remain here; there is nothing to do. They
      are unwilling to listen to anything. I see that if I linger here, I shall
      soon lose myself. Everything wears out here; my glory has already
      disappeared. This little Europe does not supply enough of it for me. I
      must seek it in the East, the fountain of glory. However, I wish first to
      make a tour along the coast, to ascertain by my own observation what may
      be attempted. I will take you, Lannes, and Sulkowsky, with me. If the
      success of a descent on England appear doubtful, as I suspect it will, the
      army of England shall become the army of the East, and I will go to
      Egypt."
    
The General attempted again, though unsuccessfully, to get an exemption from the age requirement to become a Director, just like he had tried before the 18th of Fructidor. Realizing the timing wasn’t right for this goal, he said to me on January 29, 1798, "Bourrienne, I don’t want to stay here; there’s nothing going on. They aren’t open to anything. I can see that if I hang around here too long, I’ll lose my direction. Everything fades away here; my glory is already gone. This little Europe doesn’t provide enough of it for me. I need to find it in the East, the source of glory. But first, I want to take a trip along the coast to see for myself what might be possible. I’ll take you, Lannes, and Sulkowsky with me. If it looks like an invasion of England is unlikely, as I suspect it will be, then the army meant for England will turn into the army for the East, and I’ll go to Egypt."







      This and other conversations give a correct insight into his character. He
      always considered war and conquest as the most noble and inexhaustible
      source of that glory which was the constant object of his desire. He
      revolted at the idea of languishing in idleness at Paris, while fresh
      laurels were growing for him in distant climes. His imagination inscribed,
      in anticipation, his name on those gigantic monuments which alone,
      perhaps, of all the creations of man, have the character of eternity.
      Already proclaimed the most illustrious of living generals, he sought to
      efface the rival names of antiquity by his own. If Caesar fought fifty
      battles, he longed to fight a hundred—if Alexander left Macedon to
      penetrate to the Temple of Ammon, he wished to leave Paris to travel to
      the Cataracts of the Nile. While he was thus to run a race with fame,
      events would, in his opinion, so proceed in France as to render his return
      necessary and opportune. His place would be ready for him, and he should
      not come to claim it a forgotten or unknown man.
    
This and other conversations provide a clear view of his character. He always saw war and conquest as the most noble and endless source of the glory he constantly desired. He was repulsed by the thought of wasting away in idleness in Paris while new laurels were waiting for him in far-off lands. His imagination already engraved his name on those massive monuments which, perhaps more than any of human creations, carry the essence of eternity. Already declared the most famous living general, he aimed to overshadow the rival names from antiquity with his own. If Caesar fought fifty battles, he wanted to fight a hundred—if Alexander left Macedonia to reach the Temple of Ammon, he desired to leave Paris to journey to the Nile's Cataracts. While he chased fame, he believed that events in France would unfold in a way that would make his return timely and necessary. His place would be waiting for him, and he would not come back as a forgotten or unknown man.








 


 




















      CHAPTER XII.
    



      1798.
    
1798.


   Bonaparte's departure from Paris—His return—The Egyptian
   expedition projected—M. de Talleyrand—General Desaix—Expedition
   against Malta—Money taken at Berne—Bonaparte's ideas respecting
   the East—Monge—Non-influence of the Directory—Marriages of
   Marmont and La Valette—Bonaparte's plan of colonising Egypt—His
   camp library—Orthographical blunders—Stock of wines—Bonaparte's
   arrival at Toulon—Madame Bonaparte's fall from a balcony—Execution
   of an old man—Simon.

Bonaparte's departure from Paris—His return—The Egyptian expedition planned—M. de Talleyrand—General Desaix—Expedition against Malta—Money seized in Berne—Bonaparte's thoughts about the East—Monge—Lack of influence from the Directory—Marriages of Marmont and La Valette—Bonaparte's plan to colonize Egypt—His camp library—Spelling mistakes—Stock of wines—Bonaparte's arrival in Toulon—Madame Bonaparte's fall from a balcony—Execution of an old man—Simon.







      Bonaparte left Paris for the north on the 10th of February 1798—but
      he received no order, though I have seen it everywhere so stated, to go
      there—"for the purpose of preparing the operations connected with
      the intended invasion of England." He occupied himself with no such
      business, for which a few days certainly would not have been sufficient.
      His journey to the coast was nothing but a rapid excursion, and its sole
      object was to enable him to form an opinion on the main point of the
      question. Neither did he remain absent several weeks, for the journey
      occupied only one. There were four of us in his carriage—himself,
      Lannes, Sulkowsky, and I. Moustache was our courier. Bonaparte was not a
      little surprised on reading, in the 'Moniteur' of the 10th February, an
      article giving greater importance to his little excursion than it
      deserved.
    
Bonaparte left Paris for the north on February 10, 1798—but he didn’t receive any orders, even though many people claim otherwise, to go there—"to prepare for the planned invasion of England." He didn’t focus on any such tasks, as a few days definitely wouldn't have been enough. His trip to the coast was just a quick outing, and its only purpose was for him to get a clearer understanding of the key issue at hand. He also didn’t stay away for several weeks; the journey only took one. There were four of us in his carriage—himself, Lannes, Sulkowsky, and me. Moustache was our courier. Bonaparte was quite surprised to read, in the 'Moniteur' on February 10, an article that gave his little trip more significance than it deserved.






   "General Bonaparte," said the 'Moniteur', "has departed for Dunkirk
   with some naval and engineer officers. They have gone to visit the
   coasts and prepare the preliminary operations for the descent [upon
   England]. It may be stated that he will not return to Rastadt, and
   that the close of the session of the Congress there is approaching."

   "General Bonaparte," said the 'Moniteur', "has left for Dunkirk with some naval and engineering officers. They have gone to check out the coasts and get ready for the initial operations for the landing [on England]. It's confirmed that he won't be returning to Rastadt, and the end of the Congress session there is coming up soon."







      Now for the facts. Bonaparte visited Etaples, Ambleteuse, Boulogne,
      Calais, Dunkirk, Furnes, Niewport, Ostend, and the Isle of Walcheren. He
      collected at the different ports all the necessary information with that
      intelligence and tact for which he was so eminently distinguished. He
      questioned the sailors, smugglers, and fishermen, and listened attentively
      to the answers he received.
    
Now for the facts. Bonaparte visited Etaples, Ambleteuse, Boulogne, Calais, Dunkirk, Furnes, Niewport, Ostend, and the Isle of Walcheren. He gathered all the necessary information at the different ports with the intelligence and tact that he was so well-known for. He asked questions of the sailors, smugglers, and fishermen, and listened carefully to the answers he got.







      We returned to Paris by Antwerp, Brussels, Lille, and St. Quentin. The
      object of our journey was accomplished when we reached the first of these
      towns. "Well, General," said I, "what think you of our journey? Are you
      satisfied? For my part, I confess I entertain no great hopes from anything
      I have seen and heard." Bonaparte immediately answered, "It is too great a
      chance. I will not hazard it. I would not thus sport with the fate of my
      beloved France." On hearing this I already fancied myself in Cairo!
    
We made our way back to Paris via Antwerp, Brussels, Lille, and St. Quentin. Our goal for the trip was achieved when we arrived at the first of these towns. "So, General," I said, "what do you think of our journey? Are you pleased? Honestly, I don't have high hopes for anything I've seen or heard." Bonaparte replied right away, "It's too big of a risk. I won’t take that chance. I wouldn't play with the fate of my beloved France." Hearing this, I could already imagine being in Cairo!







      On his return to Paris Bonaparte lost no time in setting on foot the
      military and scientific preparations for the projected expedition to the
      banks of the Nile, respecting which such incorrect statements have
      appeared. It had long occupied his thoughts, as the following facts will
      prove.
    
On his return to Paris, Bonaparte wasted no time starting the military and scientific preparations for the planned expedition to the banks of the Nile, about which many inaccurate claims have been made. It had been on his mind for a while, as the following facts will show.







      In the month of August 1797 he wrote "that the time was not far distant
      when we should see that, to destroy the power of England effectually, it
      would be necessary to attack Egypt." In the same month he wrote to
      Talleyrand, who had just succeeded Charles de Lacroix as Minister of
      Foreign Affairs, "that it would be necessary to attack Egypt, which did
      not belong to the Grand Signior." Talleyrand replied, "that his ideas
      respecting Egypt were certainly grand, and that their utility could not
      fail to be fully appreciated." He concluded by saying he would write to
      him at length on the subject.
    
In August 1797, he wrote, "the time isn't far off when we’ll see that to effectively destroy England's power, we’ll need to attack Egypt." In the same month, he wrote to Talleyrand, who had just replaced Charles de Lacroix as Minister of Foreign Affairs, saying, "we need to attack Egypt, which doesn’t belong to the Grand Signior." Talleyrand responded, "your ideas about Egypt are certainly ambitious, and their usefulness is sure to be fully recognized." He finished by saying he would write to him in detail about the matter.







      History will speak as favourably of M. de Talleyrand as his contemporaries
      have spoken ill of him. When a statesman, throughout a great, long, and
      difficult career, makes and preserves a number of faithful friends, and
      provokes but few enemies, it must be acknowledged that his character is
      honourable and his talent profound, and that his political conduct has
      been wise and moderate. It is impossible to know M. de Talleyrand without
      admiring him. All who have that advantage, no doubt, judge him as I do.
    
History will remember M. de Talleyrand positively, just as his contemporaries criticized him. When a politician, over a long and challenging career, builds lasting friendships and creates very few adversaries, it’s clear that his character is honorable, his talent significant, and his political actions wise and measured. It’s hard to get to know M. de Talleyrand without admiring him. Those who have had that opportunity likely see him the same way I do.







      In the month of November of the same year Bonaparte sent Poussielgue,
      under the pretence of inspecting the ports of the Levant, to give the
      finishing stroke to the meditated expedition against Malta.
    
In November of the same year, Bonaparte sent Poussielgue, pretending to inspect the ports of the Levant, to finalize the planned expedition against Malta.







      General Desaix, whom Bonaparte had made the confidant of all his plans at
      their interview in Italy after the preliminaries of Leoben, wrote to him
      from Affenbourg, on his return to Germany, that he regarded the fleet of
      Corfu with great interest. "If ever," said he, "it should be engaged in
      the grand enterprises of which I have heard you speak, do not, I beseech
      you, forget me." Bonaparte was far from forgetting him.
    
General Desaix, whom Bonaparte had trusted with all his plans during their meeting in Italy after the preliminaries of Leoben, wrote to him from Affenbourg on his way back to Germany, saying he was very interested in the fleet at Corfu. "If ever," he said, "it gets involved in the major endeavors I've heard you mention, please don't forget about me." Bonaparte certainly didn’t forget him.







      The Directory at first disapproved of the expedition against Malta, which
      Bonaparte had proposed long before the treaty of Campo-Formio was signed.
      The expedition was decided to be impossible, for Malta had observed strict
      neutrality, and had on several occasions even assisted our ships and
      seamen. Thus we had no pretext for going to war with her. It was said,
      too, that the legislative body would certainly not look with a favourable
      eye on such a measure. This opinion, which, however, did not last long,
      vexed Bonaparte. It was one of the disappointments which made him give a
      rough welcome to Bottot, Barras' agent, at the commencement of October
      1797.
    
The Directory initially rejected the expedition against Malta, which Bonaparte had suggested long before the treaty of Campo-Formio was signed. They deemed the expedition impossible because Malta had remained strictly neutral and had even supported our ships and sailors on several occasions. Therefore, we had no justification for going to war with them. It was also said that the legislative body would not approve such a move. This opinion, which didn't last long, frustrated Bonaparte. It was one of the disappointments that caused him to greet Bottot, Barras' agent, rather coldly at the beginning of October 1797.







      In the course of an animated conversation he said to Bottot, shrugging his
      shoulders, "Mon Dieu! Malta is for sale!" Sometime after he himself was
      told that "great importance was attached to the acquisition of Malta, and
      that he must not suffer it to escape." At the latter end of September 1797
      Talleyrand, then Minister of Foreign Affairs, wrote to him that the
      Directory authorized him to give the necessary orders to Admiral Brueys
      for taking Malta. He sent Bonaparte some letters for the island, because
      Bonaparte had said it was necessary to prepare the public mind for the
      event.
    
During a lively conversation, he told Bottot, shrugging his shoulders, "My God! Malta is up for grabs!" Later on, he was informed that "great importance was placed on acquiring Malta, and he must not let it get away." At the end of September 1797, Talleyrand, who was then the Minister of Foreign Affairs, wrote to him that the Directory had given him the go-ahead to issue the necessary orders to Admiral Brueys for taking Malta. He sent Bonaparte some letters for the island because Bonaparte had said it was important to prepare the public for the upcoming event.







      Bonaparte exerted himself night and day in the execution of his projects.
      I never saw him so active. He made himself acquainted with the abilities
      of the respective generals, and the force of all the army corps. Orders
      and instructions succeeded each other with extraordinary rapidity. If he
      wanted an order of the Directory he ran to the Luxembourg to get it signed
      by one of the Directors. Merlin de Douai was generally the person who did
      him this service, for he was the most constant at his post. Lagarde, the
      Secretary-General, did not countersign any document relative to this
      expedition, Bonaparte not wishing him to be informed of the business. He
      transmitted to Toulon the money taken at Berne, which the Directory had
      placed at his disposal. It amounted to something above 3,000,000 francs.
      In those times of disorder and negligence the finances were very badly
      managed. The revenues were anticipated and squandered away, so that the
      treasury never possessed so large a sum as that just mentioned.
    
Bonaparte worked tirelessly day and night to carry out his plans. I had never seen him so active. He got to know the skills of the various generals and the strength of all the army corps. Orders and instructions followed one after another with incredible speed. Whenever he needed an order from the Directory, he would rush to the Luxembourg to get it signed by one of the Directors. Merlin de Douai was usually the one to help him with this, as he was the most consistently available. Lagarde, the Secretary-General, didn’t approve any documents related to this mission because Bonaparte wanted to keep him out of the loop. He sent the money taken at Berne to Toulon, which the Directory had given him control over. It totaled just over 3,000,000 francs. During those chaotic and careless times, the finances were poorly handled. Revenues were anticipated and wasted, so the treasury never held such a significant amount as that mentioned above.







      It was determined that Bonaparte should undertake an expedition of an
      unusual character to the East. I must confess that two things cheered me
      in this very painful interval; my friendship and admiration for the
      talents of the conqueror of Italy, and the pleasing hope of traversing
      those ancient regions, the historical and religious accounts of which had
      engaged the attention of my youth.
    
It was decided that Bonaparte would lead an unusual expedition to the East. I have to admit that two things kept my spirits up during this difficult time: my friendship and admiration for the skills of the conqueror of Italy, and the exciting hope of exploring those ancient areas that had captured my interest in history and religion when I was younger.







      It was at Passeriano that, seeing the approaching termination of his
      labours in Europe, he first began to turn serious attention to the East.
      During his long strolls in the evening in the magnificent park there he
      delighted to converse about the celebrated events of that part of the
      world, and the many famous empires it once possessed. He used to say,
      "Europe is a mole-hill. There have never been great empires and
      revolutions except in the East, where there are 600,000,000 men." He
      considered that part of the world as the cradle of all religious, of all
      metaphysical extravagances. This subject was no less interesting than
      inexhaustible, and he daily introduced it when conversing with the
      generals with whom he was intimate, with Monge, and with me.
    
It was at Passeriano that, realizing his work in Europe was coming to an end, he started to seriously focus on the East. During his long evening walks in the beautiful park there, he loved to discuss the significant events of that region and the many great empires it once held. He would often say, "Europe is a molehill. There have never been great empires and revolutions except in the East, where there are 600 million people." He viewed that part of the world as the birthplace of all religions and all metaphysical ideas. This topic was just as fascinating as it was endless, and he brought it up daily when chatting with the generals he knew well, with Monge, and with me.







      Monge entirely concurred in the General-in-Chief's opinions on this point;
      and his scientific ardour was increased by Bonaparte's enthusiasm. In
      short, all were unanimously of one opinion. The Directory had no share in
      renewing the project of this memorable expedition, the result of which did
      not correspond with the grand views in which it had been conceived.
      Neither had the Directory any positive control over Bonaparte's departure
      or return. It was merely the passive instrument of the General's wishes,
      which it converted into decrees, as the law required. He was no more
      ordered to undertake the conquest of Egypt than he was instructed as to
      the plan of its execution. Bonaparte organised the army of the East,
      raised money, and collected ships; and it was he who conceived the happy
      idea of joining to the expedition men distinguished in science and art,
      and whose labours have made known, in its present and past state, a
      country, the very name of which is never pronounced without exciting grand
      recollections.
    
Monge fully agreed with the General-in-Chief's views on this matter, and his scientific passion was sparked by Bonaparte's enthusiasm. In short, everyone was on the same page. The Directory had no role in reviving the plan for this memorable expedition, which did not align with the grand vision it was originally conceived under. The Directory also had no real control over Bonaparte's departure or return. It was just a passive tool for the General's wishes, which it turned into decrees as required by law. He was no more ordered to conquer Egypt than he was given guidance on how to execute the plan. Bonaparte organized the army of the East, raised funds, and gathered ships. It was he who came up with the brilliant idea of including prominent figures in science and art in the expedition, whose work has revealed both the current and historical state of a country whose name always evokes great memories.







      Bonaparte's orders flew like lightning from Toulon to Civita Vecchia. With
      admirable precision he appointed some forces to assemble before Malta, and
      others before Alexandria. He dictated all these orders to me in his
      Cabinet.
    
Bonaparte's orders flew like lightning from Toulon to Civita Vecchia. With impressive precision, he assigned some forces to gather before Malta and others before Alexandria. He dictated all these orders to me in his office.







      In the position in which France stood with respect to Europe, after the
      treaty of Campo-Formio, the Directory, far from pressing or even
      facilitating this expedition, ought to have opposed it. A victory on the
      Adige would have been far better for France than one on the Nile. From all
      I saw, I am of opinion that the wish to get rid of an ambitious and rising
      man, whose popularity excited envy, triumphed over the evident danger of
      removing, for an indefinite period, an excellent army, and the possible
      loss of the French fleet. As to Bonaparte, he was well assured that
      nothing remained for him but to choose between that hazardous enterprise
      and his certain ruin. Egypt was, he thought, the right place to maintain
      his reputation, and to add fresh glory to his name.
    
In the situation France found itself in regarding Europe after the treaty of Campo-Formio, the Directory, instead of pushing forward or even enabling this expedition, should have been against it. A victory on the Adige would have been much better for France than one on the Nile. From everything I observed, I believe the desire to eliminate an ambitious and rising leader, whose popularity stirred envy, outweighed the clear risk of removing an excellent army for an uncertain amount of time, along with the potential loss of the French fleet. As for Bonaparte, he was fully aware that he only had to choose between that risky venture and his definite downfall. He thought Egypt was the ideal place to uphold his reputation and to bring more glory to his name.







      On the 12th of April 1798 he was appointed General-in-Chief of the army of
      the East.
    
On April 12, 1798, he was appointed General-in-Chief of the army of the East.







      It was about this time that Marmont was married to Mademoiselle Perregaux;
      and Bonaparte's aide de camp, La Valletta, to Mademoiselle Beauharnais.
    
It was around this time that Marmont got married to Mademoiselle Perregaux; and Bonaparte's aide-de-camp, La Valletta, to Mademoiselle Beauharnais.






 —[Sir Walter Scott informs us that Josephine, when she became
   Empress, brought about the marriage between her niece and La
   Vallette. This is another fictitious incident of his historical
   romance.—Bourrienne.]— 
 —[Sir Walter Scott tells us that Josephine, after becoming Empress, arranged the marriage between her niece and La Vallette. This is another made-up event in his historical romance.—Bourrienne.]—







      Shortly before our departure I asked Bonaparte how long he intended to
      remain in Egypt. He replied, "A few months, or six years: all depends on
      circumstances. I will colonise the country. I will bring them artists and
      artisans of every description; women, actors, etc. We are but
      nine-and-twenty now, and we shall then be five-and-thirty. That is not an
      old age. Those six years will enable me, if all goes well, to get to
      India. Give out that you are going to Brest. Say so even to your family."
      I obeyed, to prove my discretion and real attachment to him.
    
Shortly before we left, I asked Bonaparte how long he planned to stay in Egypt. He answered, "A few months or six years: it all depends on the situation. I'll colonize the country. I'll bring in artists and skilled workers of all kinds; women, actors, and so on. We're only twenty-nine right now, and we'll be thirty-five then. That's not old. Those six years will allow me, if everything goes well, to reach India. Tell everyone you're going to Brest. Even say it to your family." I complied, to demonstrate my discretion and genuine loyalty to him.







      Bonaparte wished to form a camp library of cabinet editions, and he gave
      me a list of the books which I was to purchase. This list is in his own
      writing, and is as follows:
    
Bonaparte wanted to create a camp library of special editions, and he provided me with a list of the books I was to buy. This list is in his own handwriting, and here it is:






               CAMP LIBRARY.

CAMP LIBRARY.







      1. ARTS AND SCIENCE.—Fontenelle's Worlds, 1 vol. Letters to a German
      Princess, 2 vols. Courses of the Normal School, 6 vols. The Artillery
      Assistant, 1 vol. Treatise on Fortifications, 3 vols. Treatise on
      Fireworks, 1 vol.
    
1. ARTS AND SCIENCE.—Fontenelle's Worlds, 1 vol. Letters to a German Princess, 2 vols. Courses of the Normal School, 6 vols. The Artillery Assistant, 1 vol. Treatise on Fortifications, 3 vols. Treatise on Fireworks, 1 vol.







      2. GEOGRAPHY AND TRAVELS.—Barclay's Geography, 12 vols. Cook's
      Voyages, 3 vols. La Harpe's Travels, 24 vols.
    
2. GEOGRAPHY AND TRAVELS.—Barclay's Geography, 12 volumes. Cook's Voyages, 3 volumes. La Harpe's Travels, 24 volumes.







      3. HISTORY.—Plutarch, 12 vols. Turenne, 2 vols. Condé, 4 vols.
      Villars, 4 vols. Luxembourg, 2 vols. Duguesclin, 2 vols. Saxe, 3 vols.
      Memoirs of the Marshals of France, 20 vols. President Hainault, 4 vols.
      Chronology, 2 vols. Marlborough, 4 vols. Prince Eugène, 6 vols.
      Philosophical History of India, 12 vols. Germany, 2 vols. Charles XII., 1
      vol. Essay on the Manners of Nations, 6 vols. Peter the Great, 1 vol.
      Polybius, 6 vols. Justin, 2 vols. Arrian, 3 vols. Tacitus, 2 vols. Titus
      Livy, Thucydides, 2 vols. Vertot, 4 vols. Denina, 8 vols. Frederick II, 8
      vols.
    
3. HISTORY.—Plutarch, 12 volumes. Turenne, 2 volumes. Condé, 4 volumes.  
      Villars, 4 volumes. Luxembourg, 2 volumes. Duguesclin, 2 volumes. Saxe, 3 volumes.  
      Memoirs of the Marshals of France, 20 volumes. President Hainault, 4 volumes.  
      Chronology, 2 volumes. Marlborough, 4 volumes. Prince Eugène, 6 volumes.  
      Philosophical History of India, 12 volumes. Germany, 2 volumes. Charles XII., 1  
      volume. Essay on the Manners of Nations, 6 volumes. Peter the Great, 1 volume.  
      Polybius, 6 volumes. Justin, 2 volumes. Arrian, 3 volumes. Tacitus, 2 volumes. Titus  
      Livy, Thucydides, 2 volumes. Vertot, 4 volumes. Denina, 8 volumes. Frederick II, 8  
      volumes.







      4. POETRY.—Osaian, 1 vol. Tasso, 6 vols. Ariosto, 6 vols. Homer, 6
      vols. Virgil, 4 vols. The Henriade, 1 vol. Telemachus, 2 vols. Les Jardin,
      1 vol. The Chefs-d'Oeuvre of the French Theatre, 20 vols. Select Light
      Poetry, 10 vols. La Fontaine.
    
4. POETRY.—Osaian, 1 vol. Tasso, 6 vols. Ariosto, 6 vols. Homer, 6 vols. Virgil, 4 vols. The Henriade, 1 vol. Telemachus, 2 vols. Les Jardin, 1 vol. The Masterpieces of French Theater, 20 vols. Selected Light Poetry, 10 vols. La Fontaine.







      5. ROMANCE.—Voltaire, 4 vols. Heloise, 4 vols. Werther, 1 vol.
      Marmontel, 4 vols. English Novels, 40 vols. Le Sage, 10 vols. Prevost, 10
      vols.
    
5. ROMANCE.—Voltaire, 4 vols. Heloise, 4 vols. Werther, 1 vol.  
      Marmontel, 4 vols. English Novels, 40 vols. Le Sage, 10 vols. Prevost, 10  
      vols.







      6. POLITICS AND MORALS.—The Old Testament. The New Testament. The
      Koran. The Vedan. Mythology. Montesquieu. The Esprit des Lois.
    
6. POLITICS AND MORALS.—The Old Testament. The New Testament. The Koran. The Vedas. Mythology. Montesquieu. The Spirit of the Laws.







      It will be observed that he classed the books of the religious creeds of
      nations under the head of "politics."
    
It can be seen that he categorized the books of national religious beliefs as "politics."







      The autograph copy of the above list contains some of those orthographical
      blunders which Bonaparte so frequently committed. Whether these blunders
      are attributable to the limited course of instruction he received at
      Brienne, to his hasty writing, the rapid flow of his ideas, or the little
      importance he attached to that indispensable condition of polite
      education, I know not. Knowing so well as he did the authors and generals
      whose names appear in the above list, it is curious that he should have
      written Ducecling for Duguesclin, and Ocean for Ossian. The latter mistake
      would have puzzled me not a little had I not known his predilection for
      the Caledonian bard.
    
The signed copy of the list above has some of the spelling mistakes that Bonaparte often made. Whether these mistakes come from the limited education he got at Brienne, his hurried writing, the fast pace of his thoughts, or the low value he placed on that essential part of a good education, I can't say. It's interesting that, despite knowing so well the authors and generals listed above, he wrote Ducecling instead of Duguesclin, and Ocean instead of Ossian. The latter mistake would have confused me a bit if I didn’t know how much he liked the Scottish poet.







      Before his departure Bonaparte laid in a considerable stock of Burgundy.
      It was supplied by a man named James, of Dijon. I may observe that on this
      occasion we had an opportunity of ascertaining that good Burgundy, well
      racked off, and in casks hermetically sealed, does not lose its quality on
      a sea voyage. Several cases of this Burgundy twice crossed the desert of
      the Isthmus of Suez on camels' backs. We brought some of it back with us
      to Fréjus, and it was as good as when we departed. James went with us to
      Egypt.
    
Before he left, Bonaparte stocked up on a good amount of Burgundy. It came from a guy named James in Dijon. I should note that during this time, we found out that high-quality Burgundy, properly racked and sealed in airtight casks, doesn’t lose its quality during a sea voyage. Several cases of this Burgundy crossed the desert of the Isthmus of Suez on camels' backs twice. We brought some of it back with us to Fréjus, and it was just as good as when we left. James joined us on the trip to Egypt.







      During the remainder of our stay in Paris nothing occurred worthy of
      mention, with the exception of a conversation between Bonaparte and me
      some days before our departure for Toulon. He went with me to the
      Luxembourg to get signatures to the official papers connected with his
      expedition. He was very silent. As we passed through the Rue Sainte Anne I
      asked him, with no other object than merely to break a long pause, whether
      he was still determined to quit France. He replied, "Yes: I have tried
      everything. They do not want me (probably alluding to the office of
      Director). I ought to overthrow them, and make myself King; but it will
      not do yet. The nobles will never consent to it. I have tried my ground.
      The time is not yet come. I should be alone. But I will dazzle them
      again." I replied, "Well, we will go to Egypt;" and changed the
      conversation.
    
During the rest of our time in Paris, nothing significant happened, except for a conversation between Bonaparte and me a few days before we left for Toulon. He accompanied me to the Luxembourg to get signatures for the official papers related to his expedition. He was very quiet. As we walked down Rue Sainte Anne, I asked him, just to fill the silence, if he was still set on leaving France. He answered, "Yes: I’ve tried everything. They don’t want me" (probably referring to the position of Director). "I should overthrow them and make myself King, but it’s not the right time yet. The nobles will never agree to it. I’ve tested my options. The time hasn’t come. I would be alone. But I will impress them again." I replied, "Well, let’s go to Egypt," and shifted the topic.






 —[Lucien and the Bonapartists of course deny that Napoleon wished
   to become Director, or to seize on power at this time; see Lucien,
   tome 1. p. 154. Thiers (vol. v. p. 257) takes the same view.
   Lanfrey (tome i. p. 363) believes Napoleon was at last compelled by
   the Directory to start and he credits the story told by Desaix to
   Mathieu Dumas, or rather to the wife of that officer, that there was
   a plot to upset the Directory, but that when all was ready Napoleon
   judged that the time was not ripe. Lanfrey, however, rather
   enlarges what Dumas says; see Dumas, tome iii. p. 167. See also
   the very remarkable conversation of Napoleon with Miot de Melito
   just before leaving Italy for Rastadt: "I cannot obey any longer. I
   have tasted the pleasures of command, and I cannot renounce it. My
   decision is taken. If I cannot be master, I shall quit France."
   (Miot, tome i. p. 184).]— 
—[Lucien and the Bonapartists obviously deny that Napoleon wanted to become Director or seize power at that time; see Lucien, volume 1, page 154. Thiers (volume v, page 257) shares the same perspective. Lanfrey (volume i, page 363) believes Napoleon was ultimately forced by the Directory to take action, and he supports the account given by Desaix to Mathieu Dumas, or rather to that officer's wife, which states there was a plot to overthrow the Directory, but when everything was ready, Napoleon felt the timing wasn't right. However, Lanfrey expands on what Dumas says; see Dumas, volume iii, page 167. Also, see the very interesting conversation between Napoleon and Miot de Melito just before leaving Italy for Rastadt: "I cannot obey any longer. I have experienced the pleasures of command, and I cannot give it up. My decision is made. If I can't be in charge, I will leave France." (Miot, volume i, page 184).]—







      The squabble with Bernadotte at Vienna delayed our departure for a
      fortnight, and might have had the most disastrous influence on the fate of
      the squadron, as Nelson would most assuredly have waited between Malta and
      Sicily if he had arrived there before us.'
    
The argument with Bernadotte in Vienna postponed our departure by two weeks, and it could have had a disastrous impact on the squadron's fate since Nelson definitely would have waited between Malta and Sicily if he had gotten there before us.






 —[Sir Walter Scott, without any authority, states that, at the
   moment of his departure, Bonaparte seemed disposed to abandon the
   command of an expedition so doubtful and hazardous, and that for
   this purpose he endeavoured to take advantage of what had occurred
   at Vienna. This must be ranked in the class of inventions, together
   with Barras mysterious visit to communicate the change of
   destination, and also the ostracism and honourable exile which the
   Directory wished to impose on Bonaparte.—Bourrienne.]— 
—[Sir Walter Scott, without any authority, claims that when he left, Bonaparte appeared ready to give up the command of an expedition that was risky and uncertain, and that he tried to use what had happened in Vienna to justify this. This should be categorized as fabrication, along with Barras’s secret visit to convey the change of plans, and the banishment and dignified exile that the Directory wanted to impose on Bonaparte.—Bourrienne.]—







      It is untrue that he ever entertained the idea of abandoning the
      expedition in consequence of Bernadotte's affair. The following letter to
      Brueys, dated the 28th of April 1798, proves the contrary:
    
It is not true that he ever considered abandoning the expedition because of Bernadotte's situation. The following letter to Brueys, dated April 28, 1798, proves otherwise:






   Some disturbances which have arisen at Vienna render my presence in
   Paris necessary for a few days. This will not change any of the
   arrangements for the expedition. I have sent orders by this courier
   for the troops at Marseilles to embark and proceed to Toulon. On
   the evening of the 30th I will send you a courier with orders for
   you to embark and proceed with the squadron and convoy to Genoa,
   where I will join you.

   The delay which this fresh event has occasioned will, I imagine,
   have enabled you to complete every preparation.

Some issues that have come up in Vienna make it necessary for me to be in Paris for a few days. This won't change any of the plans for the expedition. I've sent orders with this courier for the troops in Marseilles to board and head to Toulon. On the evening of the 30th, I'll send you a courier with instructions for you to board and move the squadron and convoy to Genoa, where I'll meet up with you.

I believe this new delay will give you enough time to finish all preparations.







      We left Paris on the 3d of May 1798. Ten days before Bonaparte's departure
      for Egypt a prisoner (Sir Sidney Smith) escaped from the Temple who was
      destined to contribute materially to his reverses. An escape so
      unimportant in itself afterwards caused the failure of the most gigantic
      projects and daring conceptions. This escape was pregnant with future
      events; a false order of the Minister of Police prevented the revolution
      of the East!
    
We left Paris on May 3, 1798. Ten days before Bonaparte left for Egypt, a prisoner (Sir Sidney Smith) managed to escape from the Temple, which would end up playing a significant role in his setbacks. An escape that seemed so minor at the time ended up leading to the collapse of the most ambitious plans and bold ideas. This escape was filled with future consequences; a mistaken order from the Minister of Police stopped the revolution in the East!







      We were at Toulon on the 8th. Bonaparte knew by the movements of the
      English that not a moment was to be lost; but adverse winds detained us
      ten days, which he occupied in attending to the most minute details
      connected with the fleet.
    
We arrived in Toulon on the 8th. Bonaparte realized from the English movements that we couldn't waste any time; however, bad winds held us up for ten days, which he used to focus on the most detailed aspects concerning the fleet.







      Bonaparte, whose attention was constantly occupied with his army, made a
      speech to the soldiers, which I wrote to his dictation, and which appeared
      in the public papers at the time. This address was followed by cries of
      "The Immortal Republic for ever!" and the singing of national hymns.
    
Bonaparte, who was always focused on his army, gave a speech to the soldiers, which I wrote down as he dictated, and that was published in the newspapers at the time. This address was met with cheers of "The Immortal Republic forever!" and the singing of national anthems.







      Those who knew Madame Bonaparte are aware that few women were more amiable
      and fascinating. Bonaparte was passionately fond of her, and to enjoy the
      pleasure of her society as long as possible he brought her with him to
      Toulon. Nothing could be more affecting than their parting. On leaving
      Toulon Josephine went to the waters of Plombieres. I recollect that during
      her stay at Plombieres she incurred great danger from a serious accident.
      Whilst she was one day sitting at the balcony of the hotel, with her
      suite, the balcony suddenly gave way, and all the persons in it fell into
      the street. Madame Bonaparte was much hurt, but no serious consequences
      ensued.
    
Those who knew Madame Bonaparte know that few women were more charming and captivating. Bonaparte was deeply in love with her, and to enjoy her company for as long as possible, he took her with him to Toulon. Their farewell was incredibly emotional. After leaving Toulon, Josephine went to the thermal baths in Plombières. I remember that during her time there, she faced serious danger from a bad accident. One day, while she was sitting on the hotel balcony with her group, the balcony suddenly collapsed, and everyone fell into the street. Madame Bonaparte was hurt quite badly, but fortunately, there were no serious consequences.







      Bonaparte had scarcely arrived at Toulon when he heard that the law for
      the death of emigrants was enforced with frightful rigour; and that but
      recently an old man, upwards of eighty, had been shot. Indignant at this
      barbarity, he dictated to me, in a tone of anger, the following letter:
    
Bonaparte had barely arrived in Toulon when he learned that the law for the execution of emigrants was being enforced with terrifying severity; and that just recently, an old man over eighty had been shot. Outraged by this brutality, he dictated the following letter to me in an angry tone:






                  HEADQUARTERS TOULON,
             27th Floréal, year VI. (16th May 1798).

   BONAPARTE, MEMBER OF THE NATIONAL INSTITUTE, TO THE MILITARY
   COMMISSIONERS OF THE NINTH DIVISION, ESTABLISHED BY THE LAW OF
   THE 19TH FRUCTIDOR.

   I have learned, citizens, with deep regret, that an old man, between
   seventy and eighty years of age, and some unfortunate women, in a
   state of pregnancy, or surrounded with children of tender age, have
   been shot on the charge of emigration.

   Have the soldiers of liberty become executioners? Can the mercy
   which they have exercised even in the fury of battle be extinct in
   their hearts?

   The law of the 19th Fructidor was a measure of public safety. Its
   object was to reach conspirators, not women and aged men.

   I therefore exhort you, citizens, whenever the law brings to your
   tribunals women or old men, to declare that in the field of battle
   you have respected the women and old men of your enemies.

   The officer who signs a sentence against a person incapable of
   bearing arms is a coward.
                       (Signed) BONAPARTE.

                  HEADQUARTERS TOULON,
             27th Floréal, year VI. (16th May 1798).

   BONAPARTE, MEMBER OF THE NATIONAL INSTITUTE, TO THE MILITARY
   COMMISSIONERS OF THE NINTH DIVISION, ESTABLISHED BY THE LAW OF
   THE 19TH FRUCTIDOR.

   I have learned, citizens, with great regret, that an elderly man, between seventy and eighty years old, and several unfortunate women, either pregnant or with young children, have been executed on charges of emigration.

   Have the soldiers of liberty become executioners? Can the compassion they showed even in the heat of battle no longer exist in their hearts?

   The law of the 19th Fructidor was a measure for public safety. Its goal was to target conspirators, not women and elderly men.

   I therefore urge you, citizens, whenever the law brings women or old men to your courts, to make it clear that on the battlefield you respected the women and elderly of your enemies.

   An officer who issues a sentence against someone unable to bear arms is a coward.
                       (Signed) BONAPARTE.







      This letter saved the life of an unfortunate man who came under the
      description of persons to whom Bonaparte referred. The tone of this note
      shows what an idea he already entertained of his power. He took upon him,
      doubtless from the noblest motives, to step out of his way to interpret
      and interdict the execution of a law, atrocious, it is true, but which
      even in those times of weakness, disorder, and anarchy was still a law. In
      this instance, at least, the power of his name was nobly employed. The
      letter gave great satisfaction to the army destined for the expedition.
    
This letter saved the life of an unfortunate man who matched the description of the people Bonaparte mentioned. The tone of this note shows what a sense of his power he already had. He took it upon himself, no doubt for the noblest reasons, to go out of his way to interpret and block the enforcement of a law that was indeed terrible, but which, even in those times of weakness, disorder, and chaos, was still a law. In this case, at least, the power of his name was used nobly. The letter greatly pleased the army meant for the expedition.







      A man named Simon, who had followed his master in emigration, and dreaded
      the application of the law, heard that I wanted a servant. He came to me
      and acknowledged his situation. He suited me, and I hired him. He then
      told me he feared he should be arrested whilst going to the port to
      embark. Bonaparte, to whom I mentioned the circumstance, and who had just
      given a striking proof of his aversion to these acts of barbarity, said to
      me in a tone of kindness, "Give him my portfolio to carry, and let him
      remain with you." The words "Bonaparte, General-in-Chief of the Army of
      the East," were inscribed in large gold letters on the green morocco.
      Whether it was the portfolio or his connection with us that prevented
      Simon from being arrested I know not; but he passed on without
      interruption. I reprimanded him for having smiled derisively at the ill
      humour of the persons appointed to arrest him. He served me faithfully,
      and was even sometimes useful to Bonaparte.
    
A man named Simon, who had followed his master into exile and was afraid of being arrested, heard that I needed a servant. He came to me and explained his situation. He seemed like a good fit, so I hired him. He then told me he was worried about getting arrested while heading to the port to board a ship. Bonaparte, to whom I mentioned this, and who had just shown how much he hated these cruel actions, said to me kindly, "Give him my portfolio to carry, and let him stay with you." The words "Bonaparte, General-in-Chief of the Army of the East" were printed in large gold letters on the green leather case. I'm not sure if it was the portfolio or his connection to us that kept Simon from being arrested, but he passed through without any trouble. I reprimanded him for smiling mockingly at the bad mood of the people sent to arrest him. He served me loyally and was even occasionally helpful to Bonaparte.








 


 




















      CHAPTER XIII.
    



      1798.
    
1798.


   Departure of the squadron—Arrival at Malta—Dolomieu—General
   Barguay d'Hilliers—Attack on the western part of the island—
   Caffarelli's remark—Deliverance of the Turkish prisoners—Nelson's
   pursuit of the French fleet—Conversations on board—How Bonaparte
   passed his, time—Questions to the Captains—Propositions discussed
   —Morning music—Proclamation—Admiral Brueys—The English fleet
   avoided Dangerous landing—Bonaparte and his fortune—Alexandria
   taken—Kléber wounded—Bonaparte's entrance into Alexandria.

   Departure of the squadron—Arrival at Malta—Dolomieu—General  
   Barguay d'Hilliers—Attack on the western part of the island—  
   Caffarelli's remark—Rescue of the Turkish prisoners—Nelson's  
   pursuit of the French fleet—Discussions on board—How Bonaparte  
   spent his time—Questions for the Captains—Topics discussed—  
   Morning music—Proclamation—Admiral Brueys—The English fleet  
   avoided Dangerous landing—Bonaparte and his fortune—Alexandria  
   captured—Kléber wounded—Bonaparte's entrance into Alexandria.







      The squadron sailed on the 19th of May. The Orient, which, owing to her
      heavy lading, drew too much water, touched the ground; but she was got off
      without much difficulty.
    
The squadron set sail on May 19th. The Orient, due to its heavy load, ran aground; however, it was freed without much trouble.







      We arrived off Malta on the 10th of June. We had lost two days in waiting
      for some convoys which joined us at Malta.
    
We arrived near Malta on June 10th. We lost two days waiting for some convoys that joined us at Malta.







      The intrigues throughout Europe had not succeeded in causing the ports of
      that island to be opened to us immediately on our arrival. Bonaparte
      expressed much displeasure against the persons sent from Europe to arrange
      measures for that purpose. One of them, however, M. Dolomieu, had cause to
      repent his mission, which occasioned him to be badly treated by the
      Sicilians. M. Poussielgue had done all he could in the way of seduction,
      but he had not completely succeeded. There was some misunderstanding, and,
      in consequence, some shots were interchanged. Bonaparte was very much
      pleased with General Baraguay d'Hilliers' services in Italy. He could not
      but praise his military and political conduct at Venice when, scarcely a
      year before, he had taken possession of that city by his orders. General
      Baraguay d'Hilliers joined us with his division,—which had embarked
      in the convoy that sailed from Genoa. The General-in-Chief ordered him to
      land and attack the western part of the island. He executed this order
      with equal prudence and ability, and highly to the satisfaction of the
      General-in-Chief. As every person in the secret knew that all this was a
      mere form, these hostile demonstrations produced no unpleasant
      consequences. We wished to save the honour of the knights—that was
      all; for no one who has seen Malta can imagine that an island surrounded
      with such formidable and perfect fortifications would have surrendered in
      two days to a fleet which was pursued by an enemy. The impregnable
      fortress of Malta is so secure against a 'coup de main' that General
      Caffarelli, after examining its fortifications, said to the
      General-in-Chief, in my presence, "Upon my word, General, it is luck:
      there is some one in the town to open the gates for us."
    
The political maneuvers across Europe hadn't managed to get the ports of that island opened to us as soon as we arrived. Bonaparte was quite frustrated with those sent from Europe to negotiate this. However, one of them, M. Dolomieu, regretted his mission, which led to him being mistreated by the Sicilians. M. Poussielgue tried everything he could to charm them, but he didn't fully succeed. There was some confusion, and as a result, some gunfire erupted. Bonaparte was very pleased with General Baraguay d'Hilliers' contributions in Italy. He couldn't help but commend his military and political actions in Venice when, just a year earlier, he had taken control of that city under orders. General Baraguay d'Hilliers joined us with his division, which had embarked in the convoy that sailed from Genoa. The General-in-Chief ordered him to land and target the western part of the island. He carried out this order with both caution and skill, earning the General-in-Chief's satisfaction. Since everyone in the know understood that this was just for show, these displays of hostility led to no serious issues. We wanted to maintain the honor of the knights—that was all; because no one who has seen Malta can believe that an island with such strong and perfect fortifications could surrender in just two days to a fleet being chased by an enemy. The impregnable fortress of Malta is so well-defended against an immediate attack that General Caffarelli, after reviewing its defenses, said to the General-in-Chief in my presence, "Honestly, General, it's luck: someone in the town must be ready to open the gates for us."







      By comparing the observation of General Caffarelli with what has been
      previously stated respecting the project of the expedition to Egypt and
      Malta, an idea may be formed of the value of Bonaparte's assertion at St.
      Helena:
    
By looking at General Caffarelli's observations alongside what has already been mentioned about the plans for the expedition to Egypt and Malta, one can get a sense of how much weight Bonaparte's claims at St. Helena hold:







      "The capture of Malta was not owing to private intrigues, but to the
      sagacity of the Commander-in-chief. I took Malta when I was in Mantua!"
    
"The capture of Malta wasn't due to personal scheming but to the wisdom of the Commander-in-chief. I took Malta when I was in Mantua!"







      It is not the less true, however, that I wrote, by his dictation, a mass
      of instructions for private intrigues. Napoleon also said to another noble
      companion of his exile at St Helena, "Malta certainly possessed vast
      physical means of resistance; but no moral means. The knights did nothing
      dishonourable, nobody is obliged to do impossibilities. No; but they were
      sold; the capture of Malta was assured before we left Toulon."
    
It’s also true that I wrote a lot of instructions for private schemes based on what he told me. Napoleon also told another noble friend during his exile at St. Helena, "Malta definitely had great physical resources for defense, but no moral strength. The knights didn’t do anything disgraceful; no one is expected to do the impossible. No, they were betrayed; the capture of Malta was guaranteed before we left Toulon."







      The General-in-Chief proceeded to that part of the port where the Turks
      made prisoners by the knights were kept.
    
The General-in-Chief went to the section of the port where the Turks captured by the knights were held.







      The disgusting galleys were emptied of their occupants: The same
      principles which, a few days after, formed the basis of Bonaparte's
      proclamation to the Egyptians, guided him in this act of reason and
      humanity.
    
The disgusting galleys were emptied of their occupants: The same principles that, a few days later, formed the basis of Bonaparte's proclamation to the Egyptians guided him in this act of reason and humanity.







      He walked several times in the gardens of the grandmaster. They were in
      beautiful order, and filled with magnificent orange-trees. We regaled
      ourselves with their fruit, which the great heat rendered most delicious.
    
He strolled through the grandmaster's gardens several times. They were beautifully maintained and filled with magnificent orange trees. We enjoyed their fruit, which tasted amazing in the hot weather.







      On the 19th of June, after having settled the government and defence of
      the island, the General left Malta, which he little dreamed he had taken
      for the English, who have very badly requited the obligation. Many of the
      knights followed Bonaparte and took civil and military appointments.
    
On June 19th, after organizing the government and defense of the island, the General left Malta, unaware that he had taken it for the English, who have not repaid the favor well. Many of the knights accompanied Bonaparte and accepted civil and military positions.







      During the night of the 22d of June the English squadron was almost close
      upon us. It passed at about six leagues from the French fleet. Nelson, who
      learned the capture of Malta at Messina on the day we left the island,
      sailed direct for Alexandria, without proceeding into the north. He
      considered that city to be the place of our destination. By taking the
      shortest course, with every sail set, and unembarrassed by any convoy, he
      arrived before Alexandria on the 28th of June, three days before the
      French fleet, which, nevertheless, had sailed before him from the shores
      of Malta. The French squadron took the direction of Candia, which we
      perceived on the 25th of June, and afterwards stood to the south, favoured
      by the Etesian winds, which regularly prevail at that season. The French
      fleet did not reach Alexandria till the 30th of June.
    
During the night of June 22nd, the English squadron was almost upon us. It passed about six leagues from the French fleet. Nelson, who found out about the capture of Malta at Messina on the day we left the island, headed straight for Alexandria without going north. He thought that city was our destination. By taking the shortest route, with all sails up and without any convoy holding him back, he arrived at Alexandria on June 28th, three days ahead of the French fleet, which had still sailed before him from Malta. The French squadron headed towards Candia, which we noticed on June 25th, and then moved south, helped by the Etesian winds that typically blow during that season. The French fleet didn't reach Alexandria until June 30th.







      When on board the 'Orient' he took pleasure in conversing frequently with
      Monge and Berthollet. The subjects on which they usually talked were
      chemistry, mathematics, and religion. General Caffarelli, whose
      conversation, supplied by knowledge, was at once energetic, witty, and
      lively, was one of those with whom he most willingly discoursed. Whatever
      friendship he might entertain for Berthollet, it was easy to perceive that
      he preferred Monge, and that he was led to that preference because Monge,
      endowed with an ardent imagination, without exactly possessing religious
      principles, had a kind of predisposition for religious ideas which
      harmonised with the notions of Bonaparte. On this subject Berthollet
      sometimes rallied his inseparable friend Monge. Besides, Berthollet was,
      with his cold imagination, constantly devoted to analysis and
      abstractions, inclined towards materialism, an opinion with which the
      General was always much dissatisfied.
    
While aboard the 'Orient', he enjoyed chatting often with Monge and Berthollet. They typically discussed topics like chemistry, mathematics, and religion. General Caffarelli, whose conversations were filled with knowledge and were both energetic and witty, was one of his favorite people to talk to. Despite any friendship he had with Berthollet, it was clear that he preferred Monge. This preference stemmed from Monge's passionate imagination; although he didn't strictly adhere to religious principles, he had an openness to religious ideas that aligned well with Bonaparte's views. On this topic, Berthollet would occasionally tease his close friend Monge. Additionally, Berthollet, with his more analytical and abstract mindset, leaned towards materialism, which was a perspective that the General often found unsatisfactory.







      Bonaparte sometimes conversed with Admiral Brueys. His object was always
      to gain information respecting the different manoeuvres, and nothing
      astonished the Admiral more than the sagacity of his questions. I
      recollect that one day, Bonaparte having asked Brueys in what manner the
      hammocks were disposed of when clearing for action, he declared, after he
      had received an answer, that if the case should occur he would order every
      one to throw his baggage overboard.
    
Bonaparte sometimes talked with Admiral Brueys. He was always aiming to gather information about different maneuvers, and nothing surprised the Admiral more than the cleverness of his questions. I remember that one day, Bonaparte asked Brueys how the hammocks were set up when preparing for action. After hearing the answer, he said that if that situation arose, he would tell everyone to throw their belongings overboard.







      He passed a great part of his time in his cabin, lying on a bed, which,
      swinging on a kind of castors, alleviated the severity of the sea-sickness
      from which he frequently suffered much when the ship rolled.
    
He spent a lot of his time in his cabin, lying on a bed that swung on a sort of rollers, which helped ease the intense seasickness he often experienced when the ship rocked.







      I was almost always with him in his cabin, where I read to him some of the
      favourite works which he had selected for his camp library. He also
      frequently conversed, for hours together, with the captains of the vessels
      which he hailed. He never failed to ask whence they came? what was their
      destination? what ships they had met? what course they had sailed? His
      curiosity being thus satisfied, he allowed them to continue their voyage,
      after making them promise to say nothing of having seen the French
      squadron.
    
I was almost always in his cabin, where I read to him some of the favorite books he had chosen for his camp library. He also often spent hours talking with the captains of the ships he hailed. He never missed asking where they came from, what their destination was, what ships they had encountered, and what course they had taken. Once his curiosity was satisfied, he let them continue their journey, after making them promise not to say anything about having seen the French squadron.







      Whilst we were at sea he seldom rose before ten o'clock in the morning.
      The 'Orient' had the appearance of a populous town, from which women had
      been excluded; and this floating city was inhabited by 2000 individuals,
      amongst whom were a great number of distinguished men. Bonaparte every day
      invited several persons to dine with him, besides Brueys, Berthier, the
      colonels, and his ordinary household, who were always present at the table
      of the General-in-Chief. When the weather was fine he went up to the
      quarter-deck, which, from its extent, formed a grand promenade.
    
While we were at sea, he rarely got up before ten in the morning. The 'Orient' looked like a bustling town, but one without women; this floating city was home to 2,000 people, including many notable individuals. Every day, Bonaparte invited several guests to dinner, in addition to Brueys, Berthier, the colonels, and his regular household, who were always at the table of the General-in-Chief. When the weather was nice, he went up to the quarter-deck, which was spacious enough to serve as a grand promenade.







      I recollect once that when walking the quarter-deck with him whilst we
      were in Sicilian waters I thought I could see the summits of the Alps
      beautifully lighted by the rays of the setting sun. Bonaparte laughed
      much, and joked me about it. He called Admiral Brueys, who took his
      telescope and soon confirmed my conjecture. The Alps!
    
I remember that one time when I was walking the quarter-deck with him while we were in Sicilian waters, I thought I could see the peaks of the Alps beautifully lit by the rays of the setting sun. Bonaparte laughed a lot and teased me about it. He called Admiral Brueys, who took his telescope and soon confirmed what I thought. The Alps!







      At the mention of that word by the Admiral I think I can see Bonaparte
      still. He stood for a long time motionless; then, suddenly bursting from
      his trance, exclaimed, "No! I cannot behold the land of Italy without
      emotion! There is the East: and there I go; a perilous enterprise invites
      me. Those mountains command the plains where I so often had the good
      fortune to lead the French to victory. With them we will conquer again."
    
At the mention of that word by the Admiral, I can still picture Bonaparte. He stood there for a long time, frozen; then, suddenly breaking out of his trance, he exclaimed, "No! I can’t look at the land of Italy without feeling something! There’s the East: and that’s where I’m headed; a risky venture calls to me. Those mountains oversee the plains where I’ve had the good fortune to lead the French to victory so many times. Together, we will conquer again."







      One of Bonaparte's greatest pleasures during the voyage was, after dinner,
      to fix upon three or four persons to support a proposition and as many to
      oppose it. He had an object in view by this. These discussions afforded
      him an opportunity of studying the minds of those whom he had an interest
      in knowing well, in order that he might afterwards confide to each the
      functions for which he possessed the greatest aptitude: It will not appear
      singular to those who have been intimate with Bonaparte, that in these
      intellectual contests he gave the preference to those who had supported an
      absurd proposition with ability over those who had maintained the cause of
      reason; and it was not superiority of mind which determined his judgment,
      for he really preferred the man who argued well in favour of an absurdity
      to the man who argued equally well in support of a reasonable proposition.
      He always gave out the subjects which were to be discussed; and they most
      frequently turned upon questions of religion, the different kinds of
      government, and the art of war. One day he asked whether the planets were
      inhabited; on another, what was the age of the world; then he proposed to
      consider the probability of the destruction of our globe, either by water
      or fire; at another time, the truth or fallacy of presentiments, and the
      interpretation of dreams. I remember the circumstance which gave rise to
      the last proposition was an allusion to Joseph, of whom he happened to
      speak, as he did of almost everything connected with the country to which
      we were bound, and which that able administrator had governed. No country
      came under Bonaparte's observation without recalling historical
      recollections to his mind. On passing the island of Candia his imagination
      was excited, and he spoke with enthusiasm of ancient Crete and the
      Colossus, whose fabulous renown has surpassed all human glories. He spoke
      much of the fall of the empire of the East, which bore so little
      resemblance to what history has preserved of those fine countries, so
      often moistened with the blood of man. The ingenious fables of mythology
      likewise occurred to his mind, and imparted to his language something of a
      poetical, and, I may say, of an inspired character. The sight of the
      kingdom of Minos led him to reason on the laws best calculated for the
      government of nations; and the birthplace of Jupiter suggested to him the
      necessity of a religion for the mass of mankind. This animated
      conversation lasted until the favourable north winds, which drove the
      clouds into the valley of the Nile, caused us to lose sight of the island
      of Candia.
    
One of Bonaparte's greatest pleasures during the voyage was, after dinner, to choose three or four people to support a proposal and as many to oppose it. He had a specific aim with this. These discussions allowed him to study the minds of those he wanted to know well, so he could later assign them roles that suited their strengths. It won’t seem strange to those who knew Bonaparte that in these intellectual debates, he preferred those who skillfully defended an absurd idea over those who argued for reason. It wasn’t intelligence that influenced his judgment, as he genuinely favored the person who made a strong case for an absurdity over someone who argued just as well for a reasonable point. He always set the topics for discussion, which often revolved around questions of religion, different types of government, and military strategy. One day he asked whether the planets were inhabited; another day, he wanted to know the age of the world; then he suggested discussing the likelihood of our planet's destruction, either by water or fire; at another moment, the validity of premonitions and the meaning of dreams. I remember the conversation that led to the last topic stemmed from a mention of Joseph, whom he often referenced, along with almost everything else related to the country we were headed to, which that skilled administrator had governed. No country caught Bonaparte's attention without triggering historical memories for him. As we passed the island of Crete, his imagination stirred, and he spoke passionately about ancient Crete and the Colossus, whose legendary fame has outshined all human achievements. He talked extensively about the fall of the Eastern Empire, which bore little resemblance to what history remembers about those once-great lands, often soaked with human blood. The clever tales of mythology also came to his mind, giving his speech a poetic and, I might say, inspired quality. Seeing the kingdom of Minos inspired him to reflect on the laws best suited for governing nations, and the birthplace of Jupiter highlighted for him the need for a religion for the masses. This lively conversation continued until the favorable north winds, which pushed the clouds into the Nile Valley, caused us to lose sight of the island of Crete.







      The musicians on board the Orient sometimes played serenades; but only
      between decks, for Bonaparte was not yet sufficiently fond of music to
      wish to hear it in his cabin. It may be said that his taste for this art
      increased in the direct ratio of his power; and so it was with his taste
      for hunting, of which he gave no indication until after his elevation to
      the empire; as though he had wished to prove that he possessed within
      himself not only the genius of sovereignty for commanding men, but also
      the instinct for those aristocratical pleasures, the enjoyment of which is
      considered by mankind to be amongst the attributes of kings.
    
The musicians on the Orient sometimes played serenades, but only between the decks because Bonaparte wasn’t really into music enough to want to hear it in his cabin. One could say that his appreciation for this art grew in direct proportion to his power; the same went for his interest in hunting, which he only showed after rising to the empire. It was as if he wanted to demonstrate that he possessed not only the genius for leadership in commanding people but also the instinct for those upper-class pleasures that society views as qualities of kings.







      It is scarcely possible that some accidents should not occur during a long
      voyage in a crowded vessel—that some persons should not fall
      overboard. Accidents of this kind frequently happened on board the
      'Orient'. On those occasions nothing was more remarkable than the great
      humanity of the man who has since been so prodigal of the blood of his
      fellow-creatures on the field of battle, and who was about to shed rivers
      of it even in Egypt, whither we were bound. When a man fell into the sea
      the General-in-Chief was in a state of agitation till he was saved. He
      instantly had the ship hove-to, and exhibited the greatest uneasiness
      until the unfortunate individual was recovered. He ordered me to reward
      those who ventured their lives in this service. Amongst these was a sailor
      who had incurred punishment for some fault. He not only exempted him from
      the punishment, but also gave him some money. I recollect that one dark
      night we heard a noise like that occasioned by a man falling into the sea.
      Bonaparte instantly caused the ship to be hove-to until the supposed
      victim was rescued from certain death. The men hastened from all sides,
      and at length they picked up-what?—the quarter of a bullock, which
      had fallen from the hook to which it was hung. What was Bonaparte's
      conduct? He ordered me to reward the sailors who had exerted themselves in
      this occasion even more generously than usual, saying, "It might have been
      a sailor, and these brave fellows have shown as much activity and courage
      as if it had."
    
It's almost impossible for some accidents not to happen during a long trip on a crowded ship—especially when people fall overboard. Such incidents often occurred on the 'Orient'. What stood out during these times was the remarkable compassion of the man who later became known for shedding so much blood on the battlefield and who was about to spill rivers of it even in Egypt, where we were headed. When someone fell into the sea, the General-in-Chief was in a state of panic until that person was rescued. He immediately ordered the ship to stop and was visibly distressed until the unfortunate individual was brought back on board. He instructed me to reward those who risked their lives in this effort. One of them was a sailor who had faced punishment for some wrongdoing. Not only did he lift the sailor's punishment, but he also gave him some money. I remember one dark night when we heard a noise that sounded like someone falling into the sea. Bonaparte quickly had the ship halted until the supposed victim was saved from certain death. The crew rushed from all directions, and eventually, they retrieved—what?—the quarter of a bullock that had fallen from the hook it was hanging from. How did Bonaparte react? He ordered me to reward the sailors who had worked hard in this situation even more generously than usual, saying, "It could have been a sailor, and these brave men showed as much initiative and courage as if it had been."







      After the lapse of thirty years all these things are as fresh in my
      recollection as if they were passing at the present moment. In this manner
      Bonaparte employed his time on board the Orient during the voyage, and it
      was also at this time that he dictated to me the following proclamation:
    
After thirty years, all of these things are as clear in my memory as if they're happening right now. This is how Bonaparte spent his time on the Orient during the journey, and it was also during this period that he dictated the following proclamation to me:






               HEADQUARTERS ON BOARD THE "ORIENT,"
                  The 4th Messidor, Year VI.

   BONAPARTE, MEMBER OF THE NATIONAL INSTITUTE,
   GENERAL-IN-CHIEF.

   SOLDIERS—You are about to undertake a conquest the effects of which
   on civilisation and commerce are incalculable. The blow you are
   about to give to England will be the best aimed, and the most
   sensibly felt, she can receive until the time arrive when you can
   give her her deathblow.

   We must make some fatiguing marches; we must fight several battles;
   we shall succeed in all we undertake. The destinies are with us.
   The Mameluke Beys who favour exclusively English commerce, whose
   extortions oppress our merchants, and who tyrannise over the
   unfortunate inhabitants of the Nile, a few days after our arrival
   will no longer exist.

   The people amongst whom we are going to live are Mahometans. The
   first article of their faith is this: "There is no God but God, and
   Mahomet is his prophet." Do not contradict them. Behave to them as
   you have behaved to the Jews—to the Italians. Pay respect to their
   muftis, and their Imaums, as you did to the rabbis and the bishops.
   Extend to the ceremonies prescribed by the Koran and to the mosques
   the same toleration which you showed to the synagogues, to the
   religion of Moses and of Jesus Christ.

   The Roman legions protected all religions. You will find here
   customs different from those of Europe. You must accommodate
   yourselves to them. The people amongst whom we are to mix differ
   from us in the treatment of women; but in all countries he who
   violates is a monster. Pillage enriches only a small number of men;
   it dishonours us; it destroys our resources; it converts into
   enemies the people whom it is our interest to have for friends.

   The first town we shall come to was built by Alexander. At every
   step we shall meet with grand recollections, worthy of exciting the
   emulation of Frenchmen.
                         BONAPARTE.

               HEADQUARTERS ON BOARD THE "ORIENT,"
                  The 4th Messidor, Year VI.

   BONAPARTE, MEMBER OF THE NATIONAL INSTITUTE,
   GENERAL-IN-CHIEF.

   SOLDIERS—You are about to embark on a conquest that will have immense effects on civilization and commerce. The strike you are about to deal to England will be the most impactful she can take until the time comes when we can deliver her a final blow.

   We must endure some tough marches; we must face several battles; we will succeed in everything we undertake. Destiny is on our side. The Mameluke Beys, who only support English commerce, who exploit our merchants, and who oppress the unfortunate people of the Nile, will no longer exist a few days after we arrive.

   The people we are going to live among are Muslims. The first tenet of their faith is this: "There is no God but God, and Muhammad is His prophet." Do not challenge them. Treat them as you treated the Jews and the Italians. Show respect to their muftis and their imams, just as you did to the rabbis and bishops. Extend the same tolerance to the practices prescribed by the Quran and to the mosques as you showed to the synagogues and the faith of Moses and Jesus Christ.

   The Roman legions protected all religions. Here, you will encounter customs different from those in Europe. You must adapt to them. The people we will be interacting with have different views on the treatment of women; however, in every country, a violator is a monster. Plundering only enriches a small number of individuals; it brings us dishonor; it depletes our resources; it turns the people we should have as friends into enemies.

   The first town we will reach was built by Alexander. At every step, we will encounter great memories that should inspire the ambition of Frenchmen.
                         BONAPARTE.







      During the voyage, and particularly between Malta and Alexandria, I often
      conversed with the brave and unfortunate Admiral Brueys. The intelligence
      we heard from time to time augmented his uneasiness. I had the good
      fortune to obtain the confidence of this worthy man. He complained
      bitterly of the imperfect manner in which the fleet had been prepared for
      sea; of the encumbered state of the ships of the line and frigates, and
      especially of the 'Orient'; of the great number of transports; of the bad
      Outfit of all the ships and the weakness of their crews. He assured me
      that it required no little courage to undertake the command of a fleet so
      badly equipped; and he often declared, that in the event of our falling in
      with the enemy, he could not answer for the consequences. The encumbered
      state of the vessels, the immense quantity of civic and military baggage
      which each person had brought, and would wish to save, would render proper
      manoeuvres impracticable. In case of an attack, added Brueys, even by an
      inferior squadron, the confusion and disorder amongst so great a number of
      persons would produce an inevitable catastrophe. Finally, if the English
      had appeared with ten vessels only, the Admiral could not have guaranteed
      a fortunate result. He considered victory to be a thing that was
      impossible, and even with a victory, what would have become of the
      expedition? "God send," he said, with a sigh, "that we may pass the
      English without meeting them!" He appeared to foresee what did afterwards
      happen to him, not in the open sea, but in a situation which he considered
      much more favourable to his defence.
    
During the journey, especially between Malta and Alexandria, I often talked with the brave but unfortunate Admiral Brueys. The news we received from time to time only increased his anxiety. I was lucky enough to earn the trust of this honorable man. He expressed deep frustration about the inadequate preparation of the fleet for sea; the overcrowded state of the ships of the line and frigates, particularly the 'Orient'; the high number of transports; the poor outfitting of all the ships and the fragility of their crews. He told me that it took considerable courage to lead a fleet that was so poorly equipped, and he frequently stated that if we encountered the enemy, he couldn’t guarantee the outcome. The cluttered state of the vessels, the vast amount of civilian and military baggage everyone had brought and wanted to save, would make effective maneuvers impossible. If an attack occurred, Brueys added, even from a smaller fleet, the chaos and confusion among so many people would lead to a certain disaster. Ultimately, he believed that even if the English had shown up with just ten ships, the Admiral couldn’t promise a favorable result. He thought victory was unattainable, and even if they had won, what would have happened to the mission? "God help us," he said with a sigh, "that we can pass by the English without encountering them!" He seemed to foresee what ultimately happened to him, not in the open sea, but in a situation he thought would be much better for his defense.







      On the morning of the 1st of July the expedition arrived off the coast of
      Africa, and the column of Septimus-Severus pointed out to us the city of
      Alexandria. Our situation and frame of mind hardly permitted us to reflect
      that in the distant point we beheld the city of the Ptolemies and Caesars,
      with its double port, its pharos, and the gigantic monuments of its
      ancient grandeur. Our imaginations did not rise to this pitch.
    
On the morning of July 1st, the expedition reached the coast of Africa, and the column of Septimus-Severus showed us the city of Alexandria. Our circumstances and state of mind barely allowed us to realize that in the distance was the city of the Ptolemies and Caesars, with its twin ports, its lighthouse, and the massive monuments of its ancient glory. Our imaginations didn’t soar to such heights.







      Admiral Brueys had sent on before the frigate Juno to fetch M. Magallon,
      the French Consul. It was near four o'clock when he arrived, and the sea
      was very rough. He informed the General-in-Chief that Nelson had been off
      Alexandria on the 28th—that he immediately dispatched a brig to
      obtain intelligence from the English agent. On the return of the brig
      Nelson instantly stood away with his squadron towards the north-east. But
      for a delay which our convoy from Civita Vecchia occasioned, we should
      have been on this coast at the same time as Nelson.
    
Admiral Brueys had sent the frigate Juno ahead to get M. Magallon, the French Consul. He arrived around four o'clock, and the sea was really rough. He informed the General-in-Chief that Nelson had been off Alexandria on the 28th and that he immediately sent a brig to gather information from the English agent. When the brig returned, Nelson quickly moved his squadron towards the northeast. If it hadn’t been for a delay caused by our convoy from Civita Vecchia, we would have been on this coast at the same time as Nelson.







      It appeared that Nelson supposed us to be already at Alexandria when he
      arrived there. He had reason to suppose so, seeing that we left Malta on
      the 19th of June, whilst he did not sail from Messina till the 21st. Not
      finding us where he expected, and being persuaded we ought to have arrived
      there had Alexandria been the place of our destination; he sailed for
      Alexandretta in Syria, whither he imagined we had gone to effect a
      landing. This error saved the expedition a second time.
    
It seemed that Nelson thought we were already in Alexandria when he got there. He had a good reason to think that since we left Malta on June 19th, while he didn’t leave Messina until the 21st. When he didn’t find us where he expected, and believing we should have arrived if Alexandria was our destination, he went to Alexandretta in Syria, thinking that was where we had gone to land. This mistake saved the expedition once again.







      Bonaparte, on hearing the details which the French Consul communicated,
      resolved to disembark immediately. Admiral Brueys represented the
      difficulties and dangers of a disembarkation—the violence of the
      surge, the distance from the coast,—a coast, too, lined with reefs
      of rocks, the approaching night, and our perfect ignorance of the points
      suitable for landing. The Admiral, therefore, urged the necessity of
      waiting till next morning; that is to say, to delay the landing twelve
      hours. He observed that Nelson could not return from Syria for several
      days. Bonaparte listened to these representations with impatience and
      ill-humour. He replied peremptorily, "Admiral, we have no time to lose.
      Fortune gives me but three days; if I do not profit by them we are lost."
      He relied much on fortune; this chimerical idea constantly influenced his
      resolutions.
    
Bonaparte, upon hearing the details shared by the French Consul, decided to land right away. Admiral Brueys pointed out the challenges and risks of landing—like the rough seas, the distance from the shore—a shore that was also filled with rocky reefs, the impending night, and our complete lack of knowledge about suitable landing spots. The Admiral insisted that it was necessary to wait until the next morning; in other words, to postpone the landing by twelve hours. He noted that Nelson wouldn’t return from Syria for several days. Bonaparte listened to these concerns with impatience and irritation. He responded firmly, "Admiral, we don’t have time to waste. Fortune gives me only three days; if I don’t take advantage of them, we’re done for." He placed a lot of faith in luck; this fanciful idea continually influenced his decisions.







      Bonaparte having the command of the naval as well as the military force,
      the Admiral was obliged to yield to his wishes.
    
Bonaparte, being in charge of both the navy and the army, forced the Admiral to comply with his demands.







      I attest these facts, which passed in my presence, and no part of which
      could escape my observation. It is quite false that it was owing to the
      appearance of a sail which, it is pretended, was descried, but of which,
      for my part, I saw nothing, that Bonaparte exclaimed, "Fortune, have you
      abandoned me? I ask only five days!" No such thing occurred.
    
I confirm these facts that happened in front of me, and I noticed every part of them. It’s completely untrue that Bonaparte shouted, "Fortune, have you abandoned me? I ask only five days!" because he supposedly saw a sail that I personally did not see. That never happened.







      It was one o'clock in the morning of the 2d of July when we landed on the
      soil of Egypt, at Marabou, three leagues to the west of Alexandria. We had
      to regret the loss of some lives; but we had every reason to expect that
      our losses would have been greater.
    
It was 1:00 AM on July 2nd when we arrived in Egypt, at Marabou, three leagues west of Alexandria. We unfortunately lost some lives, but we had every reason to believe that our losses could have been much worse.







      At three o'clock the same morning the General-in-Chief marched on
      Alexandria with the divisions of Kléber, Bon, and Menou. The Bedouin
      Arabs, who kept hovering about our right flank and our rear, picked up the
      stragglers.
    
At three o'clock that same morning, the General-in-Chief marched toward Alexandria with the divisions of Kléber, Bon, and Menou. The Bedouin Arabs, who kept hovering around our right flank and our rear, picked off the stragglers.







      Having arrived within gunshot of Alexandria, we scaled the ramparts, and
      French valour soon triumphed over all obstacles.
    
Having arrived within shooting distance of Alexandria, we climbed the walls, and French courage quickly overcame all challenges.







      The first blood I saw shed in war was General Kléber's. He was struck in
      the head by a ball, not in storming the walls, but whilst heading the
      attack. He came to Pompey's Pillar, where many members of the staff were
      assembled, and where the General-in-Chief was watching the attack. I then
      spoke to Kléber for the first time, and from that day our friendship
      commenced. I had the good fortune to contribute somewhat towards the
      assistance of which he stood in need, and which, as we were situated,
      could not be procured very easily.
    
The first blood I saw spilled in war was General Kléber's. He was hit in the head by a bullet, not while storming the walls, but while leading the attack. He came to Pompey's Pillar, where many staff members were gathered, and where the General-in-Chief was observing the assault. I spoke to Kléber for the first time then, and from that day our friendship began. I was fortunate enough to help him a bit with the resources he needed, which were not easy to find given our situation.







      It has been endeavoured to represent the capture of Alexandria, which
      surrendered after a few hours, as a brilliant exploit. The
      General-in-Chief himself wrote that the city had been taken after a few
      discharges of cannon; the walls, badly fortified, were soon scaled.
      Alexandria was not delivered up to pillage, as has been asserted, and
      often repeated. This would have been a most impolitic mode of commencing
      the conquest of Egypt, which had no strong places requiring to be
      intimidated by a great example.
    
It has been attempted to portray the capture of Alexandria, which gave up after just a few hours, as a remarkable achievement. The General-in-Chief himself stated that the city was captured after only a few cannon shots; the poorly fortified walls were quickly scaled. Alexandria was not handed over for looting, as has often been claimed. This would have been a very unwise way to start the conquest of Egypt, which had no strongholds that needed to be intimidated by an extreme example.







      Bonaparte, with some others, entered the city by a narrow street which
      scarcely allowed two persons to walk abreast; I was with him. We were
      stopped by some musket-shots fired from a low window by a man and a woman.
      They repeated their fire several times. The guides who preceded their
      General kept up a heavy fire on the window. The man and woman fell dead,
      and we passed on in safety, for the place had surrendered.
    
Bonaparte and a few others entered the city through a narrow street that barely fit two people walking side by side; I was with him. We were halted by some gunfire coming from a low window where a man and a woman were shooting at us. They fired several times. The guides in front of their General returned fire on the window. The man and woman dropped dead, and we moved on safely since the place had surrendered.







      Bonaparte employed the six days during which he remained in Alexandria in
      establishing order in the city and province, with that activity and
      superior talent which I could never sufficiently admire, and in directing
      the march of the army across the province of Bohahire'h. He sent Desaix
      with 4500 infantry and 60 cavalry to Beda, on the road to Damanhour. This
      general was the first to experience the privations and sufferings which
      the whole army had soon to endure. His great mind, his attachment to
      Bonaparte, seemed for a moment about to yield to the obstacles which
      presented themselves. On the 15th of July he wrote from Bohahire'h as
      follows: "I beseech you do not let us stop longer in this position. My men
      are discouraged and murmur. Make us advance or fall back without delay.
      The villages consist merely of huts, absolutely without resources."
    
Bonaparte spent the six days he was in Alexandria organizing the city and the surrounding area with an energy and skill that I could never fully appreciate, while also guiding the army's movement through the province of Bohahire'h. He sent Desaix with 4,500 infantry and 60 cavalry to Beda, along the road to Damanhour. This general was the first to face the hardships and suffering that the entire army would soon encounter. His strong intellect and loyalty to Bonaparte seemed to be on the verge of cracking under the challenges they faced. On July 15th, he wrote from Bohahire'h: "Please don't let us stay in this position any longer. My men are losing heart and complaining. We need to advance or retreat without delay. The villages are just huts, completely without resources."







      In these immense plains, scorched by the vertical rays of a burning sun,
      water, everywhere else so common, becomes an object of contest. The wells
      and springs, those secret treasures of the desert, are carefully concealed
      from the travellers; and frequently, after our most oppressive marches,
      nothing could be found to allay the urgent cravings of thirst but a little
      brackish water of the most disgusting description.
    
In these vast plains, burned by the intense heat of a blazing sun, water, which is so plentiful everywhere else, becomes something people fight over. The wells and springs, those hidden gems of the desert, are kept secret from travelers; and often, after our toughest treks, the only thing available to quench our desperate thirst is some unpleasant, salty water.






 —[Some idea of the misery endured by the French troops on this
   occasion may be gathered from the following description is
   Napoleon's Memoirs, dictated at St. Helena:

   "As the Hebrews wandering in the wilderness complained, and angrily
   asked Moses for the onions and flesh-pots of Egypt, the French
   soldiers constantly regretted the luxuries of Italy. In vain were
   they assured that the country was the most fertile in the world,
   that it was even superior to Lombard; how were they to be persuaded
   of this when they could get neither bread nor wine?  We encamped on
   immense quantities of wheat, but there was neither mill nor oven in
   the country. The biscuit brought from Alexandria had long been
   exhausted; the soldiers were even reduced to bruise the wheat
   between two stones and to make cake which they baked under the
   ashes. Many parched the wheat in a pan, after which they boiled it.
   This was the best way to use the grain; but, after all, it was not
   bread. The apprehensions of the soldiers increased daily, and rose
   to such a pitch that a great number of them said there was no great
   city of calm; and that the place bring that name was, like
   Damanhour, a vast assemblage of mere huts, destitute of everything
   that could render life comfortable or agreeable. To such a
   melancholy state of mind had they brought themselves that two
   dragoons threw themselves, completely clothed, into the Nile, where
   they were drowned. It is nevertheless true that, though there was
   neither bread nor wine, the resources which were procured with
   wheat, lentils, meat, and sometimes pigeons, furnished the army with
   food of some kind. But the evil was, in the ferment of the mind.
   The officers complained more loudly than the soldiers, because the
   comparison was proportionately more disadvantageous to them. In
   Egypt they found neither the quarters, the good table, nor the
   luxury of Italy. The General-in-Chief, wishing to set an example,
   tried to bivouac in the midst of the army, and in the least
   commodious spots. No one had either tent or provisions; the dinner
   of Napoleon and his staff consisted of a dish of lentils. The
   soldiers passed the evenings in political conversations, arguments,
   and complaints. 'For what purpose are we come here?' said some of
   them, 'the Directory has transported us.' 'Caffarelli,' said others,
   'is the agent that has been made use of to deceive the
   General-in-Chief.' Many of them, having observed that wherever there
   were vestiges of antiquity they were carefully searched, vented their
   spite in invective against the savants, or scientific men, who, they
   said, had started the idea of she expedition to order to make these
   searches. Jests were showered upon them, even in their presence.
   The men called an ass a savant; and said of Caffarelli Dufalga,
   alluding to his wooden leg, 'He laughs at all these troubles; he has
   one foot to France.'"]

—[Some idea of the misery experienced by the French troops during this time can be gathered from the following description in Napoleon's Memoirs, dictated at St. Helena:

"As the Hebrews wandering in the wilderness complained and angrily asked Moses for the onions and meat pots of Egypt, the French soldiers constantly missed the comforts of Italy. No matter how much they were told that the country was the most fertile in the world, even better than Lombardy, they couldn't be convinced of this when they had no bread or wine. We were surrounded by huge quantities of wheat, but there were no mills or ovens in the area. The biscuits sent from Alexandria were long gone; the soldiers even resorted to grinding the wheat between two stones to make cakes, which they baked in the ashes. Many others toasted the wheat in a pan, then boiled it. This was the best way to use the grain, but it still wasn’t bread. The soldiers' worries increased every day, reaching a point where many said there was no great city of calm; the place bearing that name was, like Damanhour, merely a collection of huts with nothing to make life comfortable or enjoyable. They became so despondent that two dragoons jumped, fully clothed, into the Nile and drowned. However, it is true that although there was no bread or wine, the supplies procured from wheat, lentils, meat, and sometimes pigeons provided the army with some food. But the real issue was the discontent. The officers complained louder than the soldiers, as their situation was even more unfair by comparison. In Egypt, they found neither the accommodations, the good food, nor the luxury of Italy. The General-in-Chief, wanting to lead by example, attempted to camp among the army in the least comfortable spots. No one had tents or provisions; Napoleon and his staff dined on a dish of lentils. The soldiers spent their evenings engaging in political discussions, arguments, and complaints. 'Why are we here?' some of them asked, 'the Directory has moved us here.' 'Caffarelli,' said others, 'is the agent who deceived the General-in-Chief.' Many observed that wherever there were traces of antiquity, they were thoroughly searched through, and they expressed their resentment toward the learned men, claiming they initiated the expedition solely for those searches. They made jokes at their expense, even when they were present. The men called an ass a savant and remarked about Caffarelli Dufalga, referring to his wooden leg, 'He laughs at all these troubles; he has one foot in France.']








 


 




















      CHAPTER XIV.
    



      1798.
    
1798.


   The mirage—Skirmishes with the Arabs—Mistake of General Desaix's
   division—Wretchedness of a rich sheik—Combat beneath the General's
   window—The flotilla on the Nile—Its distress and danger—The
   battle of Chebreisse—Defeat of the Mamelukes—Bonaparte's reception
   of me—Letter to Louis Bonaparte—Success of the French army—
   Triumphal entrance into Cairo—Civil and military organisation of
   Cairo—Bonaparte's letter to his brother Joseph—Plan of
   colonisation.

The mirage—Skirmishes with the Arabs—Mistake of General Desaix's division—Misery of a wealthy sheik—Fight outside the General's window—The flotilla on the Nile—Its struggles and risks—The battle of Chebreisse—Defeat of the Mamelukes—Bonaparte's greeting to me—Letter to Louis Bonaparte—Success of the French army—Triumphant entry into Cairo—Civil and military organization of Cairo—Bonaparte's letter to his brother Joseph—Colonization plan.







      On the 7th of July General Bonaparte left Alexandria for Damanhour. In the
      vast plains of Bohahire'h the mirage every moment presented to the eye
      wide sheets of water, while, as we advanced, we found nothing but barren
      ground full of deep cracks. Villages, which at a distance appear to be
      surrounded with water, are, on a nearer approach, discovered to be
      situated on heights, mostly artificial, by which they are raised above the
      inundations of the Nile. This illusion continually recurs; and it is the
      more treacherous, inasmuch as it presents to the eye the perfect
      representation of water, at the time when the want of that article is most
      felt. This mirage is so considerable in the plain of Pelusium that shortly
      after sunrise no object is recognisable. The same phenomenon has been
      observed in other countries. Quintus Curtius says that in the deserts of
      Sogdiana, a fog rising from the earth obscures the light, and the
      surrounding country seems like a vast sea. The cause of this singular
      illusion is now fully explained; and, from the observations of the learned
      Monge, it appears that the mirage will be found in almost every country
      situated between the tropics where the local circumstances are similar.
    
On July 7th, General Bonaparte left Alexandria for Damanhour. In the vast plains of Bohahire'h, the mirage constantly created the appearance of wide sheets of water, while as we moved forward, we encountered nothing but dry ground filled with deep cracks. Villages that look like they're surrounded by water from a distance turn out to be on elevated ground, mostly man-made, which keeps them above the floods of the Nile. This illusion happens repeatedly and is particularly deceptive because it perfectly mimics water at a time when it's most desperately needed. The mirage is so strong in the plain of Pelusium that shortly after sunrise, nothing is recognizable. The same phenomenon has been seen in other regions. Quintus Curtius mentions that in the deserts of Sogdiana, fog rising from the ground obscures the light, making the surrounding area look like a vast sea. The cause of this unusual illusion is now well understood, and according to the findings of the scholar Monge, mirages can be found in nearly every country located between the tropics where the local conditions are similar.







      The Arabs harassed the army without intermission. The few wells met with
      in the desert were either filled up or the water was rendered unfit for
      use. The intolerable thirst with which the troops were tormented, even on
      this first march, was but ill allayed by brackish and unwholesome water.
      The army crossed the desert with the rapidity of lightning, scarcely
      tasting a drop of water. The sufferings of the troops were frequently
      expressed by discouraging murmurs.
    
The Arabs constantly attacked the army without pause. The few wells found in the desert were either filled in or the water was contaminated. The unbearable thirst that tormented the troops, even on this first march, was only slightly relieved by the salty and unhealthy water. The army crossed the desert at lightning speed, hardly getting a drop to drink. The soldiers’ suffering was often shown through discouraging grumbles.







      On the first night a mistake occurred which might have proved fatal. We
      were advancing in the dark, under feeble escort, almost sleeping on our
      horses, when suddenly we were assailed by two successive discharges of
      musketry. We aroused ourselves and reconnoitred, and to our great
      satisfaction discovered that the only mischief was a alight wound received
      by one of our guides. Our assailants were the division of General Desaix,
      who, forming the advanced guard of the army, mistook us for a party of the
      enemy, and fired upon us. It was speedily ascertained that the little
      advanced guard of the headquarters had not heard the "Qui vive?" of
      Desaix's advanced posts.
    
On the first night, a mistake happened that could have been fatal. We were moving forward in the dark with minimal protection, nearly dozing off on our horses, when suddenly we were hit by two quick rounds of gunfire. We shook ourselves awake and checked the situation, and to our relief, we found that the only injury was a minor wound to one of our guides. Our attackers were General Desaix's division, who were acting as the army's advance guard and mistook us for an enemy group, opening fire on us. It quickly became clear that the small advanced guard from headquarters hadn't heard the "Who's there?" call from Desaix's lookout posts.







      On reaching Damanhour our headquarters were established at the residence
      of a sheik. The house had been new whitened, and looked well enough
      outside, but the interior was inconceivably wretched. Every domestic
      utensil was broken, and the only seats were a few dirty tattered mats.
      Bonaparte knew that the sheik was rich, and having somewhat won his
      confidence, he asked him, through the medium of the interpreter, why,
      being in easy circumstances, he thus deprived himself of all comfort.
      "Some years ago," replied the sheik, "I repaired and furnished my house.
      When this became known at Cairo a demand was made upon me for money,
      because it was said my expenses proved me to be rich. I refused to pay the
      money, and in consequence I was ill-treated, and at length forced to pay
      it. From that time I have allowed myself only the bare necessaries of
      life, and I shall buy no furniture for my house." The old man was lame in
      consequence of the treatment he had suffered. Woe to him who in this
      country is suspected of having a competency—a hundred spies are
      always ready to denounce him. The appearance of poverty is the only
      security against the rapine of power and the cupidity of barbarism.
    
Upon arriving in Damanhour, we set up our headquarters at the home of a sheik. The outside of the house had been freshly whitewashed and looked decent enough, but the inside was unbelievably miserable. Every household item was broken, and the only seating consisted of a few dirty, worn mats. Bonaparte recognized that the sheik was wealthy, and after gaining some of his trust, he asked him, through an interpreter, why he lived without comfort despite his financial means. "A few years ago," the sheik responded, "I fixed up and furnished my house. When this got around in Cairo, I was pressured to pay money, as it was said that my spending indicated I was rich. I refused to pay, and as a result, I was mistreated and ultimately forced to comply. Since then, I have only allowed myself the bare necessities of life, and I won't buy any furniture for my home." The old man was lame due to the treatment he had endured. Woe to anyone in this country suspected of having wealth—a hundred spies are always ready to turn them in. Appearing poor is the only way to protect oneself from the ravages of power and the greed of savagery.







      A little troop of Arabs on horseback assailed our headquarters. Bonaparte,
      who was at the window of the sheik's house, indignant at this insolence,
      turned to one of his aides de camp, who happened to be on duty, and said,
      "Croisier, take a few guides and drive those fellows away!" In an instant
      Croisier was in the plain with fifteen guides. A little skirmish ensued,
      and we looked on from the window. In the movement and in the attack of
      Croisier and his party there was a sort of hesitation which the
      General-in-Chief could not comprehend. "Forward, I say! Charge!" he
      exclaimed from the window, as if he could have been heard. Our horsemen
      seemed to fall back as the Arabs returned to the attack; and after a
      little contest, maintained with tolerable spirit, the Arabs retired
      without loss, and without being molested in their retreat. Bonaparte could
      no longer repress his rage; and when Croisier returned he experienced such
      a harsh reception that the poor fellow withdrew deeply mortified and
      distressed. Bonaparte desired me to follow him and say something to
      console him: but all was in vain. "I cannot survive this," he said. "I
      will sacrifice my life on the first occasion that offers itself. I will
      not live dishonoured." The word coward had escaped the General's lips.
      Poor Croisier died at Saint Jean d'Acre.
    
A small group of Arabs on horseback attacked our headquarters. Bonaparte, who was at the window of the sheik's house, outraged by this disrespect, turned to one of his aides, who was on duty, and said, "Croisier, take a few guides and drive those guys away!" In no time, Croisier was in the plain with fifteen guides. A brief skirmish followed, and we watched from the window. There was a hesitance in Croisier and his party's movement and attack that the General-in-Chief couldn't understand. "Forward, I say! Charge!" he shouted from the window, as if he could be heard. Our horsemen seemed to retreat as the Arabs counterattacked, and after a short but spirited fight, the Arabs withdrew without any losses and without being hindered in their retreat. Bonaparte could no longer contain his fury; when Croisier returned, he received such a harsh response that the poor guy left feeling deeply humiliated and upset. Bonaparte asked me to follow him and say something to comfort him, but it was useless. "I cannot survive this," he said. "I will sacrifice my life at the first opportunity that presents itself. I will not live dishonored." The word coward had slipped from the General's lips. Poor Croisier died at Saint Jean d'Acre.







      On the 10th of July our headquarters were established at Rahmahanie'h,
      where they remained during the 11th and 12th. At this place commences the
      canal which was cut by Alexander to convey water to his new city; and to
      facilitate commercial intercourse between Europe and the East.
    
On July 10, our headquarters were set up at Rahmahanie'h, where they stayed on the 11th and 12th. This is where the canal that Alexander built begins to bring water to his new city and to help trade between Europe and the East.







      The flotilla, commanded by the brave chief of division Perree, had just
      arrived from Rosette. Perree was on board the xebec 'Cerf'.
    
The flotilla, led by the courageous division chief Perree, had just arrived from Rosette. Perree was on board the xebec 'Cerf'.






 —[Bonaparte had great confidence in him. He had commanded, under
   the General's orders, the naval forces in the Adriatic in 1797.—
   Bourrienne]— 
—[Bonaparte had a lot of trust in him. He had led, under the General's orders, the naval forces in the Adriatic in 1797.— Bourrienne]—







      Bonaparte placed on board the Cerf and the other vessels of the flotilla
      those individuals who, not being military, could not be serviceable in
      engagements, and whose horses served to mount a few of the troops.
    
Bonaparte put on the Cerf and the other ships of the flotilla those people who, not being military, couldn't be useful in battles, and whose horses were used to equip some of the troops.







      On the night of the 14th of July the General-in-Chief directed his march
      towards the south, along the left bank of the Nile. The flotilla sailed up
      the river parallel with the left wing of the army. But the force of the
      wind, which at this season blows regularly from the Mediterranean into the
      valley of the file, carried the flotilla far in advance of the army, and
      frustrated the plan of their mutually defending and supporting each other.
      The flotilla thus unprotected fell in with seven Turkish gunboats coming
      from Cairo, and was exposed simultaneously to their fire and to that of
      the Mamelukes, fellahs, and Arabs who lined both banks of the river. They
      had small guns mounted on camels.
    
On the night of July 14th, the General-in-Chief directed his march south along the left bank of the Nile. The flotilla sailed up the river parallel to the left wing of the army. However, the force of the wind, which at this time of year blows steadily from the Mediterranean into the valley of the Nile, pushed the flotilla way ahead of the army, ruining their plan to mutually defend and support each other. The unprotected flotilla then encountered seven Turkish gunboats coming from Cairo and came under fire from both them and the Mamelukes, farmers, and Arabs positioned along both banks of the river. They had small guns mounted on camels.







      Perree cast anchor, and an engagement commenced at nine o'clock on the
      14th of July, and continued till half past twelve.
    
Perree dropped anchor, and an event started at 9:00 AM on July 14th, lasting until 12:30 PM.







      At the same time the General-in-Chief met and attacked a corps of about
      4000 Mamelukes. His object, as he afterwards said, was to turn the corps
      by the left of the village of Chebreisse, and to drive it upon the Nile.
    
At the same time, the General-in-Chief confronted and engaged a group of around 4,000 Mamelukes. His goal, as he later stated, was to outflank the group to the left of the village of Chebreisse and push them towards the Nile.







      About eleven in the morning Perree told me that the Turks were doing us
      more harm than we were doing them; that our ammunition would soon be
      exhausted; that the army was far inland, and that if it did not make a
      move to the left there would be no hope for us. Several vessels had
      already been boarded and taken by the Turks, who massacred the crews
      before our eyes, and with barbarous ferocity showed us the heads of the
      slaughtered men.
    
About eleven in the morning, Perree told me that the Turks were causing us more damage than we were causing them; that our ammunition would run out soon; that the army was far inland, and that if it didn't move to the left, we would have no hope. Several ships had already been boarded and taken by the Turks, who brutally killed the crews in front of us, and with savage cruelty, displayed the heads of the slaughtered men.







      Perree, at considerable risk, despatched several persons to inform the
      General-in-Chief of the desperate situation of the flotilla. The cannonade
      which Bonaparte had heard since the morning, and the explosion of a
      Turkish gunboat, which was blown up by the artillery of the xebec, led him
      to fear that our situation was really perilous. He therefore made a
      movement to the left, in the direction of the Nile and Chebreisse, beat
      the Mamelukes, and forced them to retire on Cairo. At sight of the French
      troops the commander of the Turkish flotilla weighed anchor and sailed up
      the Nile. The two banks of the river were evacuated, and the flotilla
      escaped the destruction which a short time before had appeared inevitable.
      Some writers have alleged that the Turkish flotilla was destroyed in this
      engagement. The truth is, the Turks did us considerable injury, while on
      their part they suffered but little. We had twenty men killed and several
      wounded. Upwards of 1500 cannon-shots were fired during the action.
    
Perree, taking a big risk, sent several people to inform the General-in-Chief about the desperate situation of the flotilla. The cannon fire that Bonaparte had been hearing since morning, along with the explosion of a Turkish gunboat, which was blown up by the xebec's artillery, made him worry that our situation was truly dangerous. He then moved to the left, towards the Nile and Chebreisse, defeated the Mamelukes, and pushed them back to Cairo. When the commander of the Turkish flotilla saw the French troops, he weighed anchor and sailed up the Nile. Both banks of the river were evacuated, and the flotilla avoided the destruction that had seemed unavoidable just moments before. Some writers have claimed that the Turkish flotilla was destroyed during this engagement. The truth is, the Turks caused us significant damage, while they themselves suffered very little. We had twenty men killed and several more wounded. Over 1500 cannon shots were fired during the battle.







      General Berthier, in his narrative of the Egyptian expedition, enumerates
      the individuals who, though not in the military service, assisted Perree
      in this unequal and dangerous engagement. He mentions Monge, Berthollet,
      Andreossy, the paymaster, Junot, and Bourrienne, secretary to the
      General-in-Chief. It has also been stated that Sucy, the
      commissary-general, was seriously wounded while bravely defending a
      gunboat laden with provisions; but this is incorrect.
    
General Berthier, in his account of the Egyptian expedition, lists the people who, although not part of the military, helped Perree in this unfair and risky fight. He mentions Monge, Berthollet, Andreossy, the paymaster, Junot, and Bourrienne, the secretary to the General-in-Chief. It has also been said that Sucy, the commissary-general, was seriously wounded while courageously defending a gunboat filled with supplies; however, this is not accurate.







      We had no communication with the army until the 23d of July. On the 22d we
      came in sight of the Pyramids, and were informed that we were only about,
      ten leagues from Gizeh, where they are situated. The cannonade which we
      heard, and which augmented in proportion as the north wind diminished,
      announced a serious engagement; and that same day we saw the banks of the
      Nile strewed with heaps of bodies, which the waves were every moment
      washing into the sea. This horrible spectacle, the silence of the
      surrounding villages, which had hitherto been armed against us, and the
      cessation of the firing from the banks of the river, led us to infer, with
      tolerable certainty, that a battle fatal to the Mamelukes had been fought.
      The misery we suffered on our passage from Rahmahanie'h to Gizeh is
      indescribable. We lived for eleven days on melons and water, besides being
      momentarily exposed to the musketry of the Arabs and the fellahs. We
      luckily escaped with but a few killed and wounded. The rising of the Nile
      was only beginning. The shallowness of the river near Cairo obliged us to
      leave the xebec and get on board a djerm. We reached Gizeh at three in the
      afternoon of the 23d of July.
    
We had no communication with the army until July 23rd. On the 22nd, we caught sight of the Pyramids and were told that we were only about ten leagues from Gizeh, where they are located. The cannon fire we heard, which became louder as the north wind calmed, indicated a serious battle; that same day, we saw the banks of the Nile covered with piles of bodies, which the waves were washing into the sea. This horrific sight, along with the silence of the nearby villages that had previously been armed against us, and the stoppage of firing from the riverbanks, led us to reasonably conclude that a deadly battle for the Mamelukes had taken place. The suffering we endured while traveling from Rahmahanie'h to Gizeh is beyond description. We survived for eleven days on melons and water, constantly exposed to gunfire from the Arabs and the fellahs. Fortunately, we escaped with only a few killed and wounded. The Nile had just started to rise. The shallow waters near Cairo forced us to abandon the xebec and board a djerm. We arrived in Gizeh at three in the afternoon on July 23rd.







      When I saluted the General, whom I had not seen for twelve days, he thus
      addressed me: "So you are here, are you? Do you know that you have all of
      you been the cause of my not following up the battle of Chebreisse? It was
      to save you, Monge, Berthollet, and the others on board the flotilla that
      I hurried the movement of my left upon the Nile before my right had turned
      Chebreisse. But for that, not a single Mameluke would have escaped."
    
When I greeted the General, whom I hadn’t seen for twelve days, he said to me, “So you’re here, huh? Do you realize that all of you are the reason I didn’t pursue the battle of Chebreisse? It was to protect you, Monge, Berthollet, and the others on the flotilla that I rushed the movement of my left flank on the Nile before my right had handled Chebreisse. If it weren’t for that, not a single Mameluke would have gotten away.”







      "I thank you for my own part," replied I; "but in conscience could you
      have abandoned us, after taking away our horses, and making us go on board
      the xebec, whether we would or not?" He laughed, and then told me how
      sorry he was for the wound of Sucy, and the death of many useful men,
      whose places could not possibly be filled up.
    
"I appreciate it on my end," I replied; "but honestly, could you have left us behind after taking our horses and forcing us onto the xebec, whether we wanted to or not?" He laughed, then expressed how sorry he was about Sucy's injury and the loss of many valuable men, whose roles couldn't possibly be replaced.







      He made me write a letter to his brother Louis, informing him that he had
      gained a complete victory over the Mamelukes at Embabeh, opposite Boulac,
      and that the enemy's loss was 2000 men killed and wounded, 40 guns, and a
      great number of horses.
    
He had me write a letter to his brother Louis, letting him know that he had achieved a decisive victory over the Mamelukes at Embabeh, across from Boulac, and that the enemy suffered 2,000 men killed and wounded, 40 guns, and a large number of horses.







      The occupation of Cairo was the immediate consequence of the victory of
      Embabeh. Bonaparte established his head-quarters in the home of Elfy Bey,
      in the great square of Ezbekye'h.
    
The occupation of Cairo was the direct result of the victory at Embabeh. Bonaparte set up his headquarters in Elfy Bey's house, located in the large square of Ezbekye'h.







      The march of the French army to Cairo was attended by an uninterrupted
      succession of combats and victories. We had won the battles of
      Rahmahanie'h, Chebreisse, and the Pyramids. The Mamelukes were defeated,
      and their chief, Mourad Bey, was obliged to fly into Upper Egypt.
      Bonaparte found no obstacle to oppose his entrance into the capital of
      Egypt, after a campaign of only twenty days.
    
The French army's march to Cairo was marked by a constant stream of battles and victories. We secured wins in the battles of Rahmahanie'h, Chebreisse, and the Pyramids. The Mamelukes were defeated, and their leader, Mourad Bey, had to escape to Upper Egypt. Bonaparte faced no challenges as he entered the capital of Egypt after just a twenty-day campaign.







      No conqueror, perhaps, ever enjoyed a victory so much as Bonaparte, and
      yet no one was ever less inclined to abuse his triumphs.
    
No conqueror, perhaps, ever savored a victory as much as Bonaparte, and yet no one was ever less likely to misuse his successes.







      We entered Cairo on the 24th of July, and the General-in-Chief immediately
      directed his attention to the civil and military organization of the
      country. Only those who saw him in the vigour of his youth can form an
      idea of his extraordinary intelligence and activity. Nothing escaped his
      observation. Egypt had long been the object of his study; and in a few
      weeks he was as well acquainted with the country as if he had lived in it
      ten years. He issued orders for observing the strictest discipline, and
      these orders were punctually obeyed.
    
We arrived in Cairo on July 24th, and the General-in-Chief quickly focused on organizing the civil and military aspects of the country. Only those who witnessed his youthful energy can grasp his remarkable intelligence and drive. He noticed everything. Egypt had long been a subject of his study; within just a few weeks, he knew the country as if he had lived there for a decade. He gave orders to enforce the strictest discipline, and these orders were followed without fail.







      The mosques, the civil and religious institutions, the harems, the women,
      the customs of the country—all were scrupulously respected. A few
      days after they entered Cairo the French were freely admitted into the
      shops, and were seen sociably smoking their pipes with the inhabitants,
      assisting them in their occupations, and playing with their children.
    
The mosques, civil and religious institutions, harems, women, and customs of the country—all were carefully respected. A few days after arriving in Cairo, the French were welcomed into the shops, where they were seen casually smoking their pipes with the locals, helping them with their work, and playing with their children.







      The day after his arrival in Cairo Bonaparte addressed to his brother
      Joseph the following letter, which was intercepted and printed. Its
      authenticity has been doubted, but I saw Napoleon write it, and he read it
      to me before he sent it off.
    
The day after he arrived in Cairo, Bonaparte wrote the following letter to his brother Joseph, which was intercepted and published. Some have questioned its authenticity, but I saw Napoleon write it, and he read it to me before sending it out.






                       CAIRO,
               7th. Thermidor (25th July 1798)

   You will see in the public papers the bulletins of the battles and
   conquest of Egypt, which were sufficiently contested to add another
   wreath to the laurels of this army. Egypt is richer than any
   country in the world in coin, rice, vegetables, and cattle. But the
   people are in a state of utter barbarism. We cannot procure money,
   even to pay the troops. I maybe in France in two months.

   Engage a country-house, to be ready for me on my arrival, either
   near Paris or in Burgundy, where I mean to pass the winter.

   —[Bonaparte's autograph note, after enumerating the troops and
   warlike stores he wished to be sent, concluded with the following
   list:

   1st, a company of actors; 2d, a company of dancers; 3d, some dealers
   in marionettes, at least three or four; 9th, a hundred French women;
   5th, the wives of all the men employed in the corps; 6th, twenty
   surgeons, thirty apothecaries, and ten Physicians; 7th, some
   founders; 8th, some distillers and dealers in liquor; 9th fifty
   gardeners with their families, and the seeds of every kind of
   vegetable; 10th, each party to bring with them: 200,000 pints of
   brandy; 11th, 30,000 ells of blue and scarlet cloth; 12th, a supply
   of soap and oil.—Bourrienne.]—

                    (Signed) BONAPARTE

                       CAIRO,
               7th Thermidor (25th July 1798)

   You will see in the news the updates about the battles and conquests in Egypt, which were hard-fought and have added another honor to this army's achievements. Egypt is wealthier than any other country in the world when it comes to money, rice, vegetables, and livestock. However, the people are in a state of complete barbarism. We can't even get money to pay the troops. I might be in France in two months.

   Please arrange for a country house to be ready for me when I arrive, either near Paris or in Burgundy, where I plan to spend the winter.

   —[Bonaparte's handwritten note, after listing the troops and military supplies he wanted sent, concluded with the following list:

   1st, a group of actors; 2nd, a group of dancers; 3rd, some puppet show vendors, at least three or four; 9th, a hundred French women; 5th, the wives of all the men in the corps; 6th, twenty surgeons, thirty pharmacists, and ten physicians; 7th, some metalworkers; 8th, some distillers and liquor vendors; 9th, fifty gardeners with their families, along with seeds of every kind of vegetable; 10th, each group to bring with them: 200,000 pints of brandy; 11th, 30,000 yards of blue and scarlet fabric; 12th, a supply of soap and oil.—Bourrienne.]—

                    (Signed) BONAPARTE







      This announcement of his departure to his brother is corroborated by a
      note which he despatched some days after, enumerating the supplies and
      individuals which he wished to have sent to Egypt. His note proves, more
      convincingly than any arguments, that Bonaparte earnestly wished to
      preserve his conquest, and to make it a French colony. It must be borne in
      mind that the note here alluded to, as well as the letter above quoted,
      was written long before the destruction of the fleet.
    
This announcement of his departure to his brother is backed up by a note he sent a few days later, listing the supplies and people he wanted sent to Egypt. His note shows, more convincingly than any arguments, that Bonaparte genuinely wanted to maintain his conquest and turn it into a French colony. It's important to remember that the note mentioned here, as well as the letter referenced above, was written well before the fleet was destroyed.








 


 




















      CHAPTER XV.
    



      1798.
    
1798.


   Establishment of a divan in each Egyptian province—Desaix in Upper
   Egypt—Ibrahim Bey beaten by Bonaparte at Salehye'h—Sulkowsky
   wounded—Disaster at Aboukir—Dissatisfaction and murmurs of the
   army—Dejection of the General-in-Chief—His plan respecting Egypt
   —Meditated descent upon England—Bonaparte's censure of the
   Directory—Intercepted correspondence.

   Establishing a council in each Egyptian province—Desaix in Upper Egypt—Ibrahim Bey defeated by Bonaparte at Salehyeh—Sulkowsky injured—Disaster at Aboukir—Dissatisfaction and complaints from the army—Dejection of the General-in-Chief—His strategy regarding Egypt—Planned invasion of England—Bonaparte's criticism of the Directory—Intercepted correspondence.







      From the details I have already given respecting Bonaparte's plans for
      colonising Egypt, it will be seen that his energy of mind urged him to
      adopt anticipatory measures for the accomplishment of objects which were
      never realised. During the short interval in which he sheathed his sword
      he planned provisional governments for the towns and provinces occupied by
      the French troops, and he adroitly contrived to serve the interests of his
      army without appearing to violate those of the country. After he had been
      four days at Cairo, during which time he employed himself in examining
      everything, and consulting every individual from whom he could obtain
      useful information, he published the following order:
    
From the details I've already shared about Bonaparte's plans for colonizing Egypt, it's clear that his energetic mindset pushed him to take proactive steps toward goals that were never achieved. During the brief period when he laid down his sword, he developed temporary governments for the towns and provinces occupied by the French troops, skillfully aligning the interests of his army with those of the local population. After spending four days in Cairo, where he focused on examining everything and consulting with anyone who could provide helpful information, he published the following order:






                  HEADQUARTERS, CAIRO,
                  9th Thermidor, year VI.

   BONAPARTE, MEMBER OF THE NATIONAL INSTITUTE,
   AND GENERAL-IN-CHIEF, ORDERS:

   Art. 1. There shall be in each province of Egypt a divan, composed
   of seven individuals, whose duty will be to superintend the
   interests of the province; to communicate to me any complaints that
   may be made; to prevent warfare among the different villages; to
   apprehend and punish criminals (for which purpose they may demand
   assistance from the French commandant); and to take every
   opportunity of enlightening the people.

   Art. 2. There shall be in each province an aga of the Janizaries,
   maintaining constant communication with the French commandant. He
   shall have with him a company of sixty armed natives, whom he may
   take wherever he pleases, for the maintenance of good order,
   subordination, and tranquillity.

   Art. 3. There shall be in each province an intendant, whose
   business will be to levy the miri, the feddam, and the other
   contributions which formerly belonged to the Mamelukes, but which
   now belong to the French Republic. The intendants shall have as
   many agents as may be necessary.

   Art. 4. The said intendant shall have a French agent to correspond
   with the Finance Department, and to execute all the orders he may
   receive.
                    (Signed) BONAPARTE.

                  HEADQUARTERS, CAIRO,
                  July 27, 1798.

   BONAPARTE, MEMBER OF THE NATIONAL INSTITUTE,
   AND GENERAL-IN-CHIEF, ORDERS:

   Art. 1. Each province in Egypt will have a council made up of seven members, whose job will be to oversee the province's interests; to report any complaints to me; to prevent conflicts among the villages; to catch and punish criminals (for which they can ask for help from the French commander); and to seize every chance to educate the people.

   Art. 2. Each province will have an officer of the Janizaries, maintaining consistent communication with the French commander. This officer will have a group of sixty armed locals at their disposal, which they can use as needed to maintain order, discipline, and peace.

   Art. 3. Each province will have a financial officer whose job will be to collect taxes and contributions that used to go to the Mamluks, but now belong to the French Republic. These financial officers will have as many assistants as necessary.

   Art. 4. The financial officer will have a French representative to communicate with the Finance Department and to carry out all orders they receive.
                    (Signed) BONAPARTE.







      While Bonaparte was thus actively taking measures for the organization of
      the country,
    
While Bonaparte was actively working on organizing the country,






 —[Far more thoroughly and actively than those taken by the English
   Government in 1882-3-4]— 
—[Way more thoroughly and actively than the actions taken by the English Government in 1882-3-4]—







      General Desaix had marched into Upper Egypt in pursuit of Mourad Bey. We
      learned that Ibrahim, who, next to Mourad, was the most influential of the
      beys, had proceeded towards Syria, by the way of Belbeis and Salehye'h.
      The General-in-Chief immediately determined to march in person against
      that formidable enemy, and he left Cairo about fifteen days after he had
      entered it. It is unnecessary to describe the well-known engagement in
      which Bonaparte drove Ibrahim back upon El-Arish; besides, I do not enter
      minutely into the details of battles, my chief object being to record
      events which I personally witnessed.
    
General Desaix had marched into Upper Egypt to chase Mourad Bey. We found out that Ibrahim, who was the most powerful bey after Mourad, had headed towards Syria, taking the route through Belbeis and Salehye'h. The General-in-Chief decided to lead the charge against this formidable enemy himself and left Cairo about fifteen days after he had arrived. There's no need to recount the famous battle where Bonaparte pushed Ibrahim back to El-Arish; also, I won't dive into the details of the fights, as my main goal is to document the events I personally witnessed.







      At the battle of Salehye'h Bonaparte thought he had lost one of his 'aides
      de camp', Sulkowsky, to whom he was much attached, and who had been with
      us during the whole of the campaign of Italy. On the field of battle one
      object of regret cannot long engross the mind; yet, on his return to
      Cairo, Bonaparte frequently spoke to me of Sulkowsky in terms of unfeigned
      sorrow.
    
At the battle of Salehye'h, Bonaparte thought he had lost one of his aides, Sulkowsky, to whom he was very close and who had been with us throughout the entire campaign in Italy. On the battlefield, it’s hard to dwell on one regret for too long; however, upon returning to Cairo, Bonaparte often talked to me about Sulkowsky with genuine sadness.







      "I cannot," said he one day, "sufficiently admire the noble spirit and
      determined courage of poor Sulkowsky." He often said that Sulkowsky would
      have been a valuable aid to whoever might undertake the resuscitation of
      Poland. Fortunately that brave officer was not killed on that occasion,
      though seriously wounded. He was, however, killed shortly after.
    
"I can't," he said one day, "fully admire the noble spirit and determined bravery of poor Sulkowsky." He often mentioned that Sulkowsky would have been a valuable asset to anyone trying to revive Poland. Fortunately, that brave officer wasn't killed that time, although he was seriously wounded. Sadly, he was killed shortly afterward.







      The destruction of the French squadron in the roads of Aboukir occurred
      during the absence of the General-in-Chief. This event happened on the 1st
      of August. The details are generally known; but there is one circumstance
      to which I cannot refrain from alluding, and which excited deep interest
      at the time. This was the heroic courage of the son of Casablanca, the
      captain of the 'Orient'. Casablanca was among the wounded, and when the
      vessel was blown up his son, a lad of ten years of age, preferred
      perishing with him rather than saving himself, when one of the seamen had
      secured him the means of escape. I told the 'aide de camp', sent by
      General Kléber, who had the command of Alexandria, that the
      General-in-Chief was near Salehye'h. He proceeded thither immediately, and
      Bonaparte hastened back to Cairo, a distance of about thirty-three
      leagues.
    
The destruction of the French squadron in the waters of Aboukir happened while the General-in-Chief was away. This event took place on August 1st. Most of the details are well-known; however, there’s one aspect that I can’t help but mention, as it generated a lot of interest at the time. This was the extraordinary bravery of Casablanca's son, the captain of the 'Orient'. Casablanca was among the injured, and when the ship exploded, his ten-year-old son chose to die with him instead of escaping, even after a sailor offered him a way out. I informed the aide-de-camp sent by General Kléber, who was in charge of Alexandria, that the General-in-Chief was close to Salehye'h. He went there right away, and Bonaparte quickly returned to Cairo, about thirty-three leagues away.







      In spite of any assertions that may have been made to the contrary, the
      fact is, that as soon as the French troops set foot in Egypt, they were
      filled with dissatisfaction, and ardently longed to return home.
    
Despite any claims to the contrary, the truth is that as soon as the French troops arrived in Egypt, they felt dissatisfied and desperately wanted to return home.






 —['Erreurs' objects to this description of the complaints of the
   army, but Savary (tome i. pp. 66, 67, and tome i. p. 89) fully
   confirms it, giving the reason that the army was not a homogeneous
   body, but a mixed force taken from Rome, Florence, Milan, Venice,
   Genoa, and Marseilles; see also Thiers, tome v. p. 283. But the
   fact is not singular. For a striking instance, in the days of the
   Empire, of the soldiers in 1809, in Spain, actually threatening
   Napoleon in his own hearing, see De Gonneville (tome i.
   pp. 190-193): "The soldiers of Lapisse's division gave loud
   expression to the most sinister designs against the Emperor's
   person, stirring up each other to fire a shot at him, and bandying
   accusations of cowardice for not doing it."  He heard it all as
   plainly as we did, and seemed as if he did not care a bit for it,
   but "sent the division into good quarters, when the men were as
   enthusiastic as they were formerly mutinous." In 1796
   d'Entraigues, the Bourbon spy, reports, "As a general rule, the
   French soldier grumbles and is discontented. He accuses Bonaparte
   of being a thief and a rascal. But to-morrow the very same soldier
   will obey him blindly" (Iung's Bonaparte, tome iii. p. 152).]— 
 —['Erreurs' objects to this description of the complaints from the army, but Savary (tome i. pp. 66, 67, and tome i. p. 89) fully supports it, explaining that the army was not a unified group but a mixed force drawn from Rome, Florence, Milan, Venice, Genoa, and Marseilles; see also Thiers, tome v. p. 283. However, this situation is not unique. A notable example from the Empire days is in 1809, when soldiers in Spain openly threatened Napoleon within earshot; see De Gonneville (tome i. pp. 190-193): "The soldiers of Lapisse's division loudly voiced the most sinister plans against the Emperor, encouraging each other to shoot at him and accusing anyone who didn’t of cowardice." He heard it all just as clearly as we did and appeared indifferent, but "sent the division to good quarters, where the men were as enthusiastic as they had previously been mutinous." In 1796, d'Entraigues, the Bourbon spy, reported, "As a general rule, the French soldier complains and is discontented. He accuses Bonaparte of being a thief and a scoundrel. But tomorrow, that same soldier will follow him without question" (Iung's Bonaparte, tome iii. p. 152).—







      The illusion of the expedition had disappeared, and only its reality
      remained. What bitter murmuring have I not heard from Murat, Lannes,
      Berthier, Bessières, and others! Their complaints were, indeed, often so
      unmeasured as almost to amount to sedition. This greatly vexed Bonaparte,
      and drew from him severe reproaches and violent language.
    
The illusion of the expedition was gone, and only the reality was left. I've heard so many bitter complaints from Murat, Lannes, Berthier, Bessières, and others! Their grievances were often so extreme that they almost felt like rebellion. This really frustrated Bonaparte, leading him to respond with harsh criticism and aggressive words.






 —[Napoleon related at St. Helena that in a fit of irritation he
   rushed among a group of dissatisfied generals, and said to one of
   them, who was remarkable for his stature, "you have held seditious
   language; but take care I do not perform my duty. Though you are
   five feet ten inches high, that shall not save you from being
   shot."—Bourrienne.]— 
—[Napoleon recounted at St. Helena that in a moment of frustration, he stormed into a group of unhappy generals and said to one of them, who was known for his height, "You've been spreading rebellious talk; just remember I still have a job to do. Even though you’re five feet ten inches tall, that won’t protect you from being shot."—Bourrienne.]—







      When the news arrived of the loss of the fleet, discontent increased. All
      who had acquired fortunes under Napoleon now began to fear that they would
      never enjoy them. All turned their thoughts to Paris, and its amusements,
      and were utterly disheartened at the idea of being separated from their
      homes and their friends for a period, the termination of which it was
      impossible to foresee.
    
When the news came about the fleet's loss, dissatisfaction grew. Everyone who had made money during Napoleon's time started to worry they would never get to enjoy it. They all focused on Paris and its entertainment, feeling completely crushed by the thought of being away from their homes and friends for an unknown amount of time.







      The catastrophe of Aboukir came like a thunderbolt upon the
      General-in-Chief. In spite of all his energy and fortitude, he was deeply
      distressed by the disasters which now assailed him. To the painful
      feelings excited by the complaints and dejection of his companions in arms
      was now added the irreparable misfortune of the burning of our fleet. He
      measured the fatal consequences of this event at a single glance. We were
      now cut off from all communication with France, and all hope of returning
      thither, except by a degrading capitulation with an implacable and hated
      enemy. Bonaparte had lost all chance of preserving his conquest, and to
      him this was indeed a bitter reflection. And at what a time did this
      disaster befall him? At the very moment when he was about to apply for the
      aid of the mother-country.
    
The disaster at Aboukir hit the General-in-Chief like a lightning strike. Despite his energy and determination, he was greatly troubled by the calamities that surrounded him. The painful feelings caused by the complaints and despair of his fellow soldiers were now compounded by the irreparable tragedy of our fleet being destroyed. He immediately understood the devastating consequences of this event. We were now completely cut off from communication with France, and the only hope of returning there was through a humiliating surrender to an unforgiving and despised enemy. Bonaparte had lost all hope of keeping his conquest, and this was indeed a bitter realization for him. And what a time for this disaster to strike! Just as he was about to seek assistance from the mother country.







      From what General Bonaparte communicated to me previously to the 1st of
      August, his object was, having once secured the possession of Egypt; to
      return to Toulon with the fleet; then to send troops and provisions of
      every kind to Egypt; and next to combine with the fleet all the forces
      that could be supplied, not only by France, but by her allies, for the
      purpose of attacking England. It is certain that previously to his
      departure for Egypt he had laid before the Directory a note relative to
      his plans. He always regarded a descent upon England as possible, though
      in its result fatal, so long as we should be inferior in naval strength;
      but he hoped by various manoeuvres to secure a superiority on one point.
    
From what General Bonaparte told me before August 1st, his goal was to first secure control of Egypt, then return to Toulon with the fleet. After that, he planned to send troops and supplies of all kinds to Egypt and combine the fleet with all available forces, not just from France but also from its allies, to launch an attack on England. It's clear that before he left for Egypt, he presented a note about his plans to the Directory. He always believed that an invasion of England was possible, although potentially disastrous, as long as we were outmatched in naval power; however, he hoped that through various tactics, he could achieve superiority at one point.







      His intention was to return to France. Availing himself of the departure
      of the English fleet for the Mediterranean, the alarm excited by his
      Egyptian expedition, the panic that would be inspired by his sudden
      appearance at Boulogne, and his preparations against England, he hoped to
      oblige that power to withdraw her naval force from the Mediterranean, and
      to prevent her sending out troops to Egypt. This project was often in his
      head. He would have thought it sublime to date an order of the day from
      the ruins of Memphis, and three months later, one from London. The loss of
      the fleet converted all these bold conceptions into mere romantic visions.
    
His plan was to go back to France. Taking advantage of the English fleet leaving for the Mediterranean, the excitement caused by his Egyptian expedition, the panic his sudden return to Boulogne would create, and his preparations against England, he hoped to force that country to pull its naval forces out of the Mediterranean and stop it from sending troops to Egypt. This idea was often on his mind. He would have found it amazing to issue an order of the day from the ruins of Memphis and three months later, one from London. The loss of the fleet turned all these daring ideas into just fanciful dreams.







      When alone with me he gave free vent to his emotion. I observed to him
      that the disaster was doubtless great, but that it would have been
      infinitely more irreparable had Nelson fallen in with us at Malta, or had
      he waited for us four-and-twenty hours before Alexandria, or in the open
      sea. "Any one of these events," said I, "which were not only possible but
      probable, would have deprived us of every resource. We are blockaded here,
      but we have provisions and money. Let us then wait patiently to see what
      the Directory will do for us."—"The Directory!" exclaimed he
      angrily, "the Directory is composed of a set of scoundrels! they envy and
      hate me, and would gladly let me perish here. Besides, you see how
      dissatisfied the whole army is: not a man is willing to stay."
    
When he was alone with me, he let out all his feelings. I pointed out to him that the disaster was certainly significant, but it would have been much worse if Nelson had encountered us at Malta, or had waited for us twenty-four hours before Alexandria, or in open waters. "Any one of those situations," I said, "which were not just possible but likely, would have left us without any resources. We're blockaded here, but we have food and money. So let's wait patiently to see what the Directory will do for us."—"The Directory!" he exclaimed angrily, "the Directory is full of scoundrels! They envy and hate me, and would be happy to let me die here. Plus, you see how unhappy the entire army is: not a single person wants to stay."







      The pleasing illusions which were cherished at the outset of the
      expedition vanished long before our arrival in Cairo. Egypt was no longer
      the empire of the Ptolemies, covered with populous and wealthy cities; it
      now presented one unvaried scene of devastation and misery. Instead of
      being aided by the inhabitants, whom we had ruined, for the sake of
      delivering them from the yoke of the beys, we found all against us:
      Mamelukes, Arabs, and fellahs. No Frenchman was secure of his life who
      happened to stray half a mile from any inhabited place, or the corps to
      which he belonged. The hostility which prevailed against us and the
      discontent of the army were clearly developed in the numerous letters
      which were written to France at the time, and intercepted.
    
The comforting illusions we had at the start of the expedition disappeared long before we reached Cairo. Egypt was no longer the empire of the Ptolemies, filled with bustling and prosperous cities; instead, it showed a constant landscape of destruction and suffering. Rather than being helped by the locals, whom we had supposedly freed from the rule of the beys, we found everyone against us: Mamelukes, Arabs, and fellahs. No Frenchman was safe from harm if he wandered more than half a mile from any populated area or his own unit. The widespread hostility towards us and the army's discontent were clearly reflected in the many letters that were written to France at that time and intercepted.







      The gloomy reflections which at first assailed Bonaparte, were speedily
      banished; and he soon recovered the fortitude and presence of mind which
      had been for a moment shaken by the overwhelming news from Aboukir. He,
      however, sometimes repeated, in a tone which it would be difficult to
      describe, "Unfortunate Brueys, what have you done!"
    
The dark thoughts that initially hit Bonaparte quickly faded away; he soon regained the strength and composure that had been briefly shaken by the devastating news from Aboukir. However, he sometimes echoed, in a tone hard to describe, "Unfortunate Brueys, what did you do!"







      I have remarked that in some chance observations which escaped Napoleon at
      St. Helena he endeavoured to throw all the blame of the affair on Admiral
      Brueys. Persons who are determined to make Bonaparte an exception to human
      nature have unjustly reproached the Admiral for the loss of the fleet.
    
I’ve noticed that in some random comments Napoleon made while at St. Helena, he tried to put all the blame for the incident on Admiral Brueys. Some people, determined to see Bonaparte as above human nature, have unfairly criticized the Admiral for the loss of the fleet.








 


 




















      CHAPTER XVI.
    



      1798.
    
1798.


   The Egyptian Institute—Festival of the birth of Mahomet—Bonaparte's
   prudent respect for the Mahometan religion—His Turkish dress—
   Djezzar, the Pasha of Acre—Thoughts of a campaign in Germany—Want
   of news from France—Bonaparte and Madame Fourés—The Egyptian
   fortune-teller, M. Berthollet, and the Sheik El Bekri—The air
   "Marlbrook"—Insurrection in Cairo—Death of General Dupuis—Death
   of Sulkowsky—The insurrection quelled—Nocturnal executions—
   Destruction of a tribe of Arabs—Convoy of sick and wounded—
   Massacre of the French in Sicily—projected expedition to Syria—
   Letter to Tippoo Saib.

   The Egyptian Institute—Festival celebrating the birth of Muhammad—Bonaparte's cautious respect for the Muslim faith—His Turkish outfit—Djezzar, the Pasha of Acre—Considerations for a campaign in Germany—Lack of news from France—Bonaparte and Madame Fourés—The Egyptian fortune-teller, M. Berthollet, and Sheikh El Bekri—The tune "Marlbrook"—Uprising in Cairo—Death of General Dupuis—Death of Sulkowsky—The uprising suppressed—Nighttime executions—Destruction of a tribe of Arabs—Convoy of sick and wounded—Massacre of the French in Sicily—planned expedition to Syria—Letter to Tippoo Saib.







      The loss of the fleet convinced General Bonaparte of the necessity of
      speedily and effectively organising Egypt, where everything denoted that
      we should stay for a considerable time, excepting the event of a forced
      evacuation, which the General was far from foreseeing or fearing. The
      distance of Ibrahim Bey and Mourad Bey now left him a little at rest. War,
      fortifications, taxation, government, the organization of the divans,
      trade, art, and science, all occupied his attention. Orders and
      instructions were immediately despatched, if not to repair the defeat, at
      least to avert the first danger that might ensue from it. On the 21st of
      August Bonaparte established at Cairo an institute of the arts and
      sciences, of which he subsequently appointed me a member in the room of M.
      de Sucy, who was obliged to return to France, in consequence of the wound
      he received on board the flotilla in the Nile.
    
The loss of the fleet made General Bonaparte realize the need to quickly and effectively organize Egypt, as everything indicated that we would be staying for a considerable time, unless there was a forced evacuation, which the General didn’t see coming or fear. The distance from Ibrahim Bey and Mourad Bey gave him a bit of relief. He focused on war, fortifications, taxation, government, the organization of the councils, trade, art, and science. Orders and instructions were sent out immediately, if not to fix the defeat, at least to prevent the first danger that might arise from it. On August 21, Bonaparte established an institute of arts and sciences in Cairo, and later appointed me as a member to replace M. de Sucy, who had to return to France due to the wound he received on the flotilla in the Nile.






 —[The Institute of Egypt was composed of members of the French
   Institute, and of the men of science and artists of the commission
   who did not belong to that body. They assembled and added to their
   number several officers of the artillery and staff, and others who
   had cultivated the sciences and literature.

   The Institute was established in one of the palaces of the bey's.
   A great number of machines, and physical, chemical, and astronomical
   instruments had been brought from France. They were distributed in
   the different rooms, which were also successively filled with all
   the curiosities of the country, whether of the animal, vegetable, or
   mineral kingdom.

   The garden of the palace became a botanical garden. A chemical
   laboratory was formed at headquarters; Berthollet performed
   experiments there several times every week, which Napoleon and a
   great number of officers attended ('Memoirs of Napoleon')]— 
—[The Institute of Egypt was made up of members from the French Institute and scientists and artists from the commission who weren’t part of that group. They came together and welcomed several artillery officers and others who were involved in science and literature.

   The Institute was set up in one of the bey's palaces. A large number of machines and physical, chemical, and astronomical instruments were brought over from France. They were arranged in different rooms, which were also progressively filled with all kinds of curiosities from the country, whether from the animal, plant, or mineral kingdom.

   The palace garden became a botanical garden. A chemical lab was established at headquarters, where Berthollet conducted experiments several times a week, attended by Napoleon and many officers ('Memoirs of Napoleon')]—







      In founding this Institute, Bonaparte wished to afford an example of his
      ideas of civilisation. The minutes of the sittings of that learned body,
      which have been printed, bear evidence of its utility, and of Napoleon's
      extended views. The objects of the Institute were the advancement and
      propagation of information in Egypt, and the study and publication of all
      facts relating to the natural history, trade, and antiquities of that
      ancient country.
    
In establishing this Institute, Bonaparte aimed to showcase his vision of civilization. The recorded proceedings of this scholarly group, which have been published, demonstrate its usefulness and Napoleon's broad perspectives. The goals of the Institute were to promote and spread knowledge in Egypt, as well as to study and publish all information related to the natural history, commerce, and ancient artifacts of that historic country.







      On the 18th Bonaparte was present at the ceremony of opening the dyke of
      the canal of Cairo, which receives the water of the Nile when it reaches
      the height fired by the Mequyas.
    
On the 18th, Bonaparte attended the ceremony to open the dyke of the Cairo canal, which collects the Nile's water when it reaches the level triggered by the Mequyas.







      Two days after came the anniversary festival of the birth of Mahomet. At
      this Napoleon was also present, in company with the sheik El Bekri, who at
      his request gave him two young Mamelukes, Ibrahim, and Roustan.
    
Two days later, the anniversary festival of the birth of Muhammad took place. Napoleon was there too, alongside the sheik El Bekri, who, at his request, presented him with two young Mamelukes, Ibrahim and Roustan.






 —[The General-in-Chief went to celebrate the feast of the Prophet
   at the house of the sheik El Bekri. The ceremony was begun by the
   recital of a kind of litany, containing the life of Mahomet from his
   birth to his death. About a hundred sheiks, sitting in a circle, on
   carpets, with their legs crossed, recited all the verses, swinging
   their bodies violently backwards and forwards, and altogether.

   A grand dinner was afterwards served up, at which the guests sat on
   carpets, with their legs across. There were twenty tables, and five
   or six people at each table. That of the General-in-Chief and the
   sheik El Bekri was in the middle; a little slab of a precious kind
   of wood ornamented with mosaic work was placed eighteen inches above
   the floor and covered with a great number of dishes in succession.
   They were pillaws of rice, a particular kind of roast, entrees, and
   pastry, all very highly spiced. The sheiks picked everything with
   their fingers. Accordingly water was brought to wash the hands
   three times during dinner. Gooseberry-water, lemonade, and other
   sorts of sherbets were served to drink, and abundance of preserves
   and confectionery with the dessert. On the whole, the dinner was
   not disagreeable; it was only the manner of eating it that seemed
   strange to us.

   In the evening the whole city was illuminated. After dinner the
   party went into the square of El Bekri, the illumination of which,
   in coloured lamps, was very beautiful. An immense concourse of
   people attended. They were all placed in order, in ranks of from
   twenty to a hundred persons, who, standing close together, recited
   the prayers and litanies of the Prophet with movements which kept
   increasing, until at length they seemed to be convulsive, and some
   of the most zealous fainted away ('Memoirs of Napoleon').]— —[Roustan or Rustan, a Mameluke, was always with Napoleon from the
   time of the return from Egypt till 1814, when he abandoned his
   master. He slept at or near the door of Napoleon. See Rémusat,
   tome i, p. 209, for an amusing description of the alarm of
   Josephine, and the precipitate flight of Madame de Rémusat, at the
   idea of being met and killed by this man in one of Josephine's
   nocturnal attacks on the privacy of her husband when closeted with
   his mistress.]— 
 —[The General-in-Chief went to celebrate the Prophet's feast at the house of Sheik El Bekri. The ceremony started with a kind of litany that recounted the life of Mahomet from birth to death. About a hundred sheiks sat in a circle on carpets, legs crossed, reciting all the verses while swaying their bodies back and forth together.

   A large dinner was served afterward, with guests sitting on carpets, legs crossed. There were twenty tables with five or six people at each. The table for the General-in-Chief and Sheik El Bekri was in the center; a small slab of precious wood decorated with mosaics was placed eighteen inches above the floor and covered with many dishes in succession. There were rice pilafs, a special roast, entrees, and pastries, all heavily spiced. The sheiks ate everything with their fingers. As a result, water was brought to wash hands three times during dinner. Gooseberry water, lemonade, and various kinds of sherbets were served to drink, along with an assortment of preserves and sweets for dessert. Overall, the dinner was enjoyable; it was just the way of eating that felt odd to us.

   In the evening, the entire city was lit up. After dinner, the group went to the square of El Bekri, where the illumination with colored lamps was beautiful. A huge crowd gathered, arranged in ranks of twenty to a hundred people. They stood close together, reciting the prayers and litanies of the Prophet with movements that grew increasingly intense, until some of the most fervent participants fainted away ('Memoirs of Napoleon').]— —[Roustan or Rustan, a Mameluke, was always with Napoleon from his return from Egypt until 1814, when he left his master. He slept at or near Napoleon's door. See Rémusat, vol. i, p. 209, for an amusing account of Josephine's alarm and Madame de Rémusat's hasty escape at the thought of encountering and being killed by this man during one of Josephine's late-night intrusions on her husband while he was with his mistress.]—







      It has been alleged that Bonaparte, when in Egypt, took part in the
      religious ceremonies and worship of the Mussulmans; but it cannot be said
      that he celebrated the festivals of the overflowing of the Nile and the
      anniversary of the Prophet. The Turks invited him to these merely as a
      spectator; and the presence of their new master was gratifying to the
      people. But he never committed the folly of ordering any solemnity. He
      neither learned nor repeated any prayer of the Koran, as many persons have
      asserted; neither did he advocate fatalism, polygamy, or any other
      doctrine of the Koran. Bonaparte employed himself better than in
      discussing with the Imaums the theology of the children of Ismael. The
      ceremonies, at which policy induced him to be present, were to him, and to
      all who accompanied him, mere matters of curiosity. He never set foot in a
      mosque; and only on one occasion, which I shall hereafter mention, dressed
      himself in the Mahometan costume. He attended the festivals to which the
      green turbans invited him. His religious tolerance was the natural
      consequence of his philosophic spirit.
    
It has been claimed that Bonaparte, while in Egypt, participated in the religious ceremonies and worship of Muslims; however, it's not accurate to say that he celebrated the festivals of the Nile flooding or the anniversary of the Prophet. The Turks invited him to these events just as a spectator, and his presence was appreciated by the people. But he never made the mistake of ordering any formal celebrations. He neither learned nor recited any prayers from the Koran, as many have suggested; nor did he support fatalism, polygamy, or any other beliefs from the Koran. Bonaparte focused on more important matters than debating theology with the Imams of the children of Ishmael. The ceremonies he attended, due to political interests, were simply a source of curiosity for him and those with him. He never entered a mosque, and only on one occasion, which I will mention later, did he wear Muslim attire. He went to the festivals that the men in green turbans invited him to. His religious tolerance was a natural outcome of his philosophical mindset.






 —[From this Sir Walter Scott infers that he did not scruple to join
   the Musselmans in the external ceremonies of their religion. He
   embellishes his romance with the ridiculous farce of the sepulchral
   chamber of the grand pyramid, and the speeches which were addressed
   to the General as well as to the muftis and Imaums; and he adds that
   Bonaparte was on the point of embracing Islamism. All that Sir
   Walter says on this subject is the height of absurdity, and does not
   even deserve to be seriously refuted. Bonaparte never entered a
   mosque except from motives of curiosity,(see contradiction in
   previous paragraph. D.W.) and he never for one moment afforded any
   ground for supposing that he believed in the mission of Mahomet.—
   Bourrienne.]— 
 —[From this, Sir Walter Scott suggests that he had no qualms about participating in the outward rituals of the Muslims. He adds a comical twist to his story with the absurd scene of the burial chamber in the grand pyramid and the speeches given to the General as well as to the muftis and Imams; he even claims that Bonaparte was about to convert to Islam. Everything Sir Walter says about this is completely ridiculous and doesn't even merit a serious rebuttal. Bonaparte only entered a mosque out of curiosity (see contradiction in previous paragraph. D.W.), and he never once gave any reason to believe that he accepted the teachings of Muhammad.—Bourrienne.]—







      Doubtless Bonaparte did, as he was bound to do, show respect for the
      religion of the country; and he found it necessary to act more like a
      Mussulman than a Catholic. A wise conqueror supports his triumphs by
      protecting and even elevating the religion of the conquered people.
      Bonaparte's principle was, as he himself has often told me, to look upon
      religions as the work of men, but to respect them everywhere as a powerful
      engine of government. However, I will not go so far as to say that he
      would not have changed his religion had the conquest of the East been the
      price of that change. All that he said about Mahomet, Islamism, and the
      Koran to the great men of the country he laughed at himself. He enjoyed
      the gratification of having all his fine sayings on the subject of
      religion translated into Arabic poetry, and repeated from mouth to mouth.
      This of course tended to conciliate the people.
    
Without a doubt, Bonaparte, as he had to, showed respect for the country's religion and found it necessary to behave more like a Muslim than a Catholic. A wise conqueror supports his victories by protecting and even uplifting the religion of the people he conquers. Bonaparte's principle was, as he often told me, to view religions as human creations but to respect them everywhere as a powerful tool of governance. However, I won't go as far as to say that he wouldn't have changed his religion if conquering the East required it. He often laughed at the things he said about Muhammad, Islam, and the Koran to the prominent figures in the country. He took pleasure in having all his eloquent comments about religion translated into Arabic poetry and passed around. This, of course, helped to win over the people.







      I confess that Bonaparte frequently conversed with the chiefs of the
      Mussulman religion on the subject of his conversion; but only for the sake
      of amusement. The priests of the Koran, who would probably have been
      delighted to convert us, offered us the most ample concessions. But these
      conversations were merely started by way of entertainment, and never could
      have warranted a supposition of their leading to any serious result. If
      Bonaparte spoke as a Mussulman, it was merely in his character of a
      military and political chief in a Mussulman country. To do so was
      essential to his success, to the safety of his army, and, consequently, to
      his glory. In every country he would have drawn up proclamations and
      delivered addresses on the same principle. In India he would have been for
      Ali, at Thibet for the Dalai-lama, and in China for Confucius.
    
I admit that Bonaparte often talked with the leaders of the Muslim faith about his conversion, but it was mostly for fun. The Koran priests, who would likely have been thrilled to convert us, offered us plenty of concessions. But these conversations were just for entertainment and couldn’t possibly lead to anything serious. When Bonaparte spoke as a Muslim, it was simply because he was a military and political leader in a Muslim country. This was crucial for his success, the safety of his army, and, ultimately, his glory. In any country, he would have issued proclamations and given speeches on the same basis. In India, he would have supported Ali, in Tibet the Dalai Lama, and in China Confucius.






 —[On the subject of his alleged conversion to Mahometanism
   Bonaparte expressed himself at St. Helena as follows:

   "I never followed any of the tenets of that religion. I never
   prayed in the mosques. I never abstained from wine, or was
   circumcised, neither did I ever profess it. I said merely that we
   were the friends of the Mussulmans, and that I respected Mahomet
   their prophet, which was true; I respect him now. I wanted to make
   the Imaums cause prayers to be offered up in the mosques for me, in
   order to make the people respect me still more than they actually
   did, and obey me more readily. The Imaums replied that there was a
   great obstacle, because their Prophet in the Koran had inculcated to
   them that they were not to obey, respect, or hold faith with
   infidels, and that I came under that denomination. I then desired
   them to hold a consultation, and see what was necessary to be done
   in order to become a Mussulman, as some of their tenets could not be
   practised by us. That, as to circumcision, God had made us unfit
   for that. That, with respect to drinking wine, we were poor cold
   people, inhabitants of the north, who could not exist without it.
   They consulted together accordingly, and in about three weeks issued
   a fetham, declaring that circumcision might be omitted, because it
   was merely a profession; that as to drinking wine, it might be drunk
   by Mussulmans, but that those who drank it would not go to paradise,
   but to hell. I replied that this would not do; that we had no
   occasion to make ourselves Mussulmans in order to go to hell, that
   there were many ways of getting there without coming to Egypt, and
   desired them to hold another consultation. After deliberating and
   battling together for I believe three months, they finally decided
   that a man might become a Mussulman, and neither circumcise nor
   abstain from wine; but that, in proportion to the wine drunk, some
   good works must be done. I then told them that we were all
   Mussulmans and friends of the Prophet, which they really believed,
   as the French soldiers never went to church, and had no priests with
   them. For you must know that during the Revolution there was no
   religion whatever in the French army. Menou," continued Napoleon,
   "really turned Mahometan, which was the reason I left him behind."
   —(Voices from St. Helena.)]— 
 —[On the subject of his alleged conversion to Islam, Bonaparte expressed himself at St. Helena as follows:

   "I never followed any of the principles of that religion. I never prayed in mosques. I never abstained from wine or underwent circumcision, and I never declared myself a follower. I simply said that we were friends of the Muslims and that I respected Muhammad, their prophet, which was true; I still respect him. I wanted the Imams to pray for me in the mosques, so that the people would hold me in even greater esteem and obey me more willingly. The Imams responded that there was a major challenge because their Prophet had taught them in the Quran not to obey, respect, or have faith in infidels, and I fell into that category. I then asked them to meet and figure out what needed to be done to become a Muslim, since some of their principles were unfeasible for us. I argued that, as for circumcision, God had made us unsuitable for it. As for drinking wine, we were poor, cold people from the north who couldn’t survive without it. They deliberated and, after about three weeks, released a fatwa stating that circumcision could be skipped, as it was merely a formality; as for drinking wine, Muslims could drink it, but those who did would not go to paradise, but to hell. I replied that this was unacceptable; we didn’t need to become Muslims to end up in hell—there were plenty of ways to get there without coming to Egypt—and asked them to have another discussion. After debating and struggling for, I believe, three months, they ultimately decided that a man could become a Muslim and not undergo circumcision or refrain from wine; however, in relation to the amount of wine consumed, some good deeds must be performed. I then told them that we were all Muslims and friends of the Prophet, which they genuinely believed, since the French soldiers never attended church and had no priests with them. You must know that during the Revolution, there was no religion at all in the French army. Menou," continued Napoleon, "really became a Muslim, which is why I left him behind." —(Voices from St. Helena.)]—







      The General-in-Chief had a Turkish dress made, which he once put on,
      merely in joke. One day he desired me to go to breakfast without waiting
      for him, and that he would follow me. In about a quarter of an hour he
      made his appearance in his new costume. As soon as he was recognised he
      was received with a loud burst of laughter. He sat down very coolly; but
      he found himself so encumbered and ill at ease in his turban and Oriental
      robe that he speedily threw them off, and was never tempted to a second
      performance of the masquerade.
    
The General-in-Chief had a Turkish outfit made, which he once joked about wearing. One day, he asked me to go to breakfast without waiting for him, saying he would join me later. About fifteen minutes later, he showed up in his new outfit. As soon as people recognized him, they erupted in laughter. He sat down calmly, but he felt so awkward and uncomfortable in his turban and Eastern robe that he quickly took them off and never considered wearing them again.







      About the end of August Bonaparte wished to open negotiations with the
      Pasha of Acre, nicknamed the Butcher. He offered Djezzar his friendship,
      sought his in return, and gave him the most consolatory assurances of the
      safety of his dominions. He promised to support him against the Grand
      Seignior, at the very moment when he was assuring the Egyptians that he
      would support the Grand Seignior against the beys. But Djezzar, confiding
      in his own strength and in the protection of the English, who had
      anticipated Bonaparte, was deaf to every overture, and would not even
      receive Beauvoisin, who was sent to him on the 22d of August. A second
      envoy was beheaded at Acre. The occupations of Bonaparte and the necessity
      of obtaining a more solid footing in Egypt retarded for the moment the
      invasion of that pashalic, which provoked vengeance by its barbarities,
      besides being a dangerous neighbour.
    
By the end of August, Bonaparte wanted to start talks with the Pasha of Acre, known as the Butcher. He offered Djezzar his friendship, sought his in return, and reassured him about the safety of his territories. He promised to back him against the Grand Seignior, even while telling the Egyptians that he would support the Grand Seignior against the beys. However, Djezzar, trusting in his own strength and the support of the British, who had gotten to Bonaparte first, ignored every offer and wouldn't even meet with Beauvoisin, who was sent to him on August 22nd. A second envoy was executed in Acre. Bonaparte's activities and the need to establish a stronger presence in Egypt temporarily delayed the invasion of that pashalic, which was seeking revenge for its brutalities and was also a dangerous neighbor.







      From the time he received the accounts of the disaster of Aboukir until
      the revolt of Cairo on the 22d of October, Bonaparte sometimes found the
      time hang heavily on his hands. Though he devoted attention to everything,
      yet there was not sufficient occupation for his singularly active mind.
      When the heat was not too great he rode on horseback; and on his return,
      if he found no despatches to read (which often happened), no orders to
      send off; or no letters to answer, he was immediately absorbed in reverie,
      and would sometimes converse very strangely. One day, after a long pause,
      he said to me:
    
From the time he got the reports about the disaster at Aboukir until the Cairo uprising on October 22, Bonaparte occasionally found himself feeling bored. Even though he focused on everything, there wasn’t enough to keep his exceptionally active mind engaged. When the weather wasn’t too hot, he would ride on horseback; and upon his return, if he didn’t have any dispatches to read (which often happened), no orders to send out, or no letters to respond to, he would quickly get lost in thought and sometimes talk in a very unusual way. One day, after a long silence, he said to me:







      "Do you know what I am thinking of?"—"Upon my word, that would be
      very difficult; you think of such extraordinary things."—"I don't
      know," continued he, "that I shall ever see France again; but if I do, my
      only ambition is to make a glorious campaign in Germany—in the
      plains of Bavaria; there to gain a great battle, and to avenge France for
      the defeat of Hochstadt. After that I would retire into the country, and
      live quietly."
    
"Do you know what I'm thinking about?"—"Honestly, that would be really tough; you think of such amazing things."—"I don't know," he continued, "if I'll ever see France again; but if I do, my only goal is to have an epic campaign in Germany—in the plains of Bavaria; there to win a big battle and get revenge for France for the defeat at Hochstadt. After that, I’d retire to the countryside and live a quiet life."







      He then entered upon a long dissertation on the preference he would give
      to Germany as the theatre of war; the fine character of the people, and
      the prosperity and wealth of the country, and its power of supporting an
      army. His conversations were sometimes very long; but always replete with
      interest.
    
He then launched into a lengthy discussion about why he preferred Germany as the battleground; he praised the character of the people, the country's wealth and prosperity, and its ability to support an army. His conversations could be quite long, but they were always filled with engaging content.






 —[So early as 1794 Napoleon had suggested that Austria should
   always be attacked in Germany, not in Italy. "It is Germany that
   should be overwhelmed; that done, Italy and Spain fall of
   themselves. Germany should be attacked, not Spain or Italy. If we
   obtain great success, advantage should never be taken of it to
   penetrate into Italy while Germany, unweakened, offers a formidable
   front" (Iung's Bonaparte, tome ii. p. 936), He was always opposed
   to the wild plans which had ruined so many French armies in Italy,
   and which the Directory tried to force on him, of marching on Rome
   and Naples after every success in the north.]— 
 —[As early as 1794, Napoleon suggested that Austria should always be attacked in Germany, not in Italy. "Germany should be overwhelmed; once that’s done, Italy and Spain will fall on their own. We should focus on Germany, not Spain or Italy. If we achieve significant success, we shouldn’t take advantage of it to move into Italy while Germany remains a strong opponent" (Iung's Bonaparte, tome ii. p. 936). He consistently opposed the reckless strategies that had devastated many French armies in Italy, which the Directory tried to impose on him, like marching on Rome and Naples after every victory in the north.]—







      In these intervals of leisure Bonaparte was accustomed to retire to bed
      early. I used to read to him every evening. When I read poetry he would
      fall asleep; but when he asked for the Life of Cromwell I counted on
      sitting up pretty late. In the course of the day he used to read and make
      notes. He often expressed regret at not receiving news from France; for
      correspondence was rendered impracticable by the numerous English and
      Turkish cruisers. Many letters were intercepted and scandalously
      published. Not even family secrets and communications of the most
      confidential nature were respected.
    
During these moments of downtime, Bonaparte would usually go to bed early. I would read to him every evening. When I read poetry, he would drift off to sleep, but when he asked for the Life of Cromwell, I knew we'd be up pretty late. Throughout the day, he would read and take notes. He often expressed frustration about not getting news from France because the many English and Turkish ships made communication nearly impossible. A lot of letters were intercepted and shamelessly published. Even family secrets and private communications were not spared.







      About the middle of September in this year (1798), Bonaparte ordered to be
      brought to the house of Elfy Bey half a dozen Asiatic women whose beauty
      he had heard highly extolled. But their ungraceful obesity displeased him,
      and they were immediately dismissed. A few days after he fell violently in
      love with Madame Foures, the wife of a lieutenant of infantry. She was
      very pretty, and her charms were enhanced by the rarity of seeing a woman
      in Egypt who was calculated to please the eye of a European. Bonaparte
      engaged for her a house adjoining the palace of Elfy Bey, which we
      occupied. He frequently ordered dinner to be prepared there, and I used to
      go there with him at seven o'clock, and leave him at nine.
    
Around mid-September in this year (1798), Bonaparte had about six Asian women brought to Elfy Bey's house, whose beauty he had heard was highly praised. However, their awkward, heavy appearance upset him, and they were sent away immediately. A few days later, he became infatuated with Madame Foures, the wife of an infantry lieutenant. She was very attractive, and her beauty was even more striking given how rare it was to see a woman in Egypt who would catch the eye of a European. Bonaparte arranged for her to have a house next to the palace of Elfy Bey, where we were staying. He often had dinner prepared there, and I would go with him at seven o'clock and leave him at nine.







      This connection soon became the general subject of gossip at
      head-quarters. Through a feeling of delicacy to M. Foures, the
      General-in-Chief gave him a mission to the Directory. He embarked at
      Alexandria, and the ship was captured by the English, who, being informed
      of the cause of his mission, were malicious enough to send him back to
      Egypt, instead of keeping him prisoner. Bonaparte wished to have a child
      by Madame Foures, but this wish was not realised.
    
This connection quickly became the main topic of gossip at headquarters. Out of consideration for M. Foures, the General-in-Chief assigned him a mission to the Directory. He set sail from Alexandria, but the ship was captured by the English, who, upon learning the reason for his mission, spitefully decided to send him back to Egypt instead of keeping him as a prisoner. Bonaparte wanted to have a child with Madame Foures, but this desire was never fulfilled.







      A celebrated soothsayer was recommended to Bonaparte by the inhabitants of
      Cairo, who confidentially vouched for the accuracy with which he could
      foretell future events. He was sent for, and when he arrived, I, Venture,
      and a sheik were with the General. The prophet wished first to exercise
      his skill upon Bonaparte, who, however, proposed that I should have my
      fortune told first, to which I acceded without hesitation. To afford an
      idea of his prophetic skill I must mention that since my arrival in Cairo
      I had been in a very weak state. The passage of the Nile and the bad food
      we had had for twelve days had greatly reduced me, so that I was miserably
      pale and thin.
    
A well-known fortune teller was recommended to Bonaparte by the people of Cairo, who confidently vouched for his ability to predict future events accurately. He was called in, and when he arrived, I, Venture, and a sheik were with the General. The prophet wanted to use his skills on Bonaparte first, but he suggested I should have my fortune told first, which I agreed to without hesitation. To give you an idea of his prophetic abilities, I should mention that since I got to Cairo, I had been in very poor health. The journey across the Nile and the bad food we had eaten for twelve days had really weakened me, leaving me looking pale and thin.







      After examining my hands, feeling my pulse, my forehead, and the nape of
      my neck, the fortune-teller shrugged his shoulders, and, in a melancholy
      tone, told Venture that he did not think it right to inform me of my fate.
      I gave him to understand that he might say what he pleased, as it was a
      matter of indifference to me. After considerable hesitation on his part
      and pressing on mine, he announced to me that the earth of Egypt would
      receive me in two months.
    
After checking my hands, feeling my pulse, my forehead, and the back of my neck, the fortune-teller shrugged and, in a sad tone, told Venture that he didn’t think it was right to reveal my fate. I made it clear that he could say whatever he wanted since it didn’t matter to me. After a lot of hesitation on his part and pressure on mine, he finally told me that the earth of Egypt would claim me in two months.







      I thanked him, and he was dismissed. When we were alone the General said
      to me, "Well, what do you think of that?" I observed that the
      fortune-teller did not run any great risk in foretelling my death, which
      was a very probable circumstance in the state in which I was; "but," added
      I, "if I procure the wines which I have ordered from France, you will soon
      see me get round again."
    
I thanked him, and he was let go. Once we were alone, the General said to me, "So, what do you think about that?" I pointed out that the fortune-teller wasn’t taking much of a risk in predicting my death, considering how likely it was given my condition. "But," I added, "if I get the wines I ordered from France, you’ll soon see me back on my feet."







      The art of imposing on mankind has at all times been an important part of
      the art of governing; and it was not that portion of the science of
      government which Bonaparte was the least acquainted with. He neglected no
      opportunity of showing off to the Egyptians the superiority of France in
      arts and sciences; but it happened, oftener than once, that the simple
      instinct of the Egyptians thwarted his endeavours in this way. Some days
      after the visit of the pretended fortune-teller he wished, if I may so
      express myself, to oppose conjurer to conjurer. For this purpose he
      invited the principal sheiks to be present at some chemical experiments
      performed by M. Berthollet. The General expected to be much amused at
      their astonishment; but the miracles of the transformation of liquids,
      electrical commotions and galvanism, did not elicit from them any symptom
      of surprise. They witnessed the operations of our able chemist with the
      most imperturbable indifference. When they were ended, the sheik El Bekri
      desired the interpreter to tell M. Berthollet that it was all very fine;
      "but," said he, "ask him whether he can make me be in Morocco and here at
      one and the same moment?" M. Berthollet replied in the negative, with a
      shrug of his shoulders. "Oh! then," said the sheik, "he is not half a
      sorcerer."
    
The art of manipulating people has always been a key aspect of ruling, and Bonaparte was quite familiar with this part of governance. He took every chance to showcase France’s superiority in arts and sciences to the Egyptians, but more than once, their straightforward intuition disrupted his efforts. A few days after the visit from the so-called fortune-teller, he wanted to pit one conjurer against another. To do this, he invited the main sheiks to watch some chemical experiments performed by M. Berthollet. The General anticipated that their amazement would be entertaining, but the incredible transformations of liquids, electrical bursts, and galvanism didn’t provoke any reaction from them. They observed the skilled chemist's work with complete indifference. Once the experiments concluded, sheik El Bekri asked the interpreter to tell M. Berthollet that everything was impressive; "but," he said, "ask him if he can make me be in Morocco and here at the same time?" M. Berthollet shook his shoulders and answered no. "Oh! then," the sheik replied, "he's not much of a sorcerer."







      Our music produced no greater effect upon them. They listened with
      insensibility to all the airs that were played to them, with the exception
      of "Marlbrook." When that was played they became animated, and were all in
      motion, as if ready to dance.
    
Our music had no greater impact on them. They listened with indifference to all the tunes played for them, except for "Marlbrook." When that one came on, they came alive and were all moving, as if they were ready to dance.







      An order which had been issued on our arrival in Cairo for watching the
      criers of the mosques had for some weeks been neglected. At certain hours
      of the night these criers address prayers to the Prophet. As it was merely
      a repetition of the same ceremony over and over again, in a short time no
      notice was taken of it. The Turks, perceiving this negligence, substituted
      for their prayers and hymns cries of revolt, and by this sort of verbal
      telegraph, insurrectionary excitement was transmitted to the northern and
      southern extremities of Egypt. By this means, and by the aid of secret
      emissaries, who eluded our feeble police, and circulated real or forged
      firmans of the Sultan disavowing the concord between France and the Porte,
      and provoking war, the plan of a revolution was organised throughout the
      country.
    
An order that was given when we arrived in Cairo to monitor the mosque criers had been ignored for a few weeks. At certain times of the night, these criers call out prayers to the Prophet. Since it was just the same routine repeated over and over, it quickly became overlooked. The Turks, noticing this neglect, replaced their prayers and hymns with calls for rebellion, and through this kind of verbal messaging, feelings of insurrection spread to the northern and southern ends of Egypt. In this way, along with the help of secret agents who slipped past our weak police and circulated real or forged decrees from the Sultan denying any agreement between France and the Porte and inciting war, a plan for a revolution was set in motion across the country.







      The signal for the execution of this plan was given from the minarets on
      the night of the 20th of October, and on the morning of the 21st it was
      announced at headquarters that the city of Cairo was in open insurrection.
      The General-in-Chief was not, as has been stated, in the isle of Raeuddah:
      he did not hear the firing of the alarm-guns. He rose when the news
      arrived; it was then five o'clock. He was informed that all the shops were
      closed, and that the French were attacked. A moment after he heard of the
      death of General Dupuis, commandant of the garrison, who was killed by a
      lance in the street. Bonaparte immediately mounted his horse, and,
      accompanied by only thirty guides, visited all the threatened points,
      restored confidence, and, with great presence of mind, adopted measures of
      defence.
    
The signal to carry out this plan was given from the minarets on the night of October 20th, and by the morning of the 21st, it was announced at headquarters that the city of Cairo was in open rebellion. The General-in-Chief was not, as was previously claimed, on the isle of Raeuddah; he didn’t hear the alarm guns being fired. He got up when the news came in; it was then five o'clock. He was told that all the shops were closed and that the French were under attack. Moments later, he learned about the death of General Dupuis, the commander of the garrison, who was killed by a lance in the street. Bonaparte immediately got on his horse, and, accompanied by only thirty guides, inspected all the vulnerable areas, restored confidence, and, with great composure, took defensive measures.







      He left me at headquarters with only one sentinel; but he had been
      accurately informed of the situation of the insurgents; and such was my
      confidence in his activity and foresight that I had no apprehension, and
      awaited his return with perfect composure. This composure was not
      disturbed even when I saw a party of insurgents attack the house of M.
      Estève, our paymaster-general, which was situated on the opposite side of
      Ezbekye'h Place. M. Estève was, fortunately, able to resist the attack
      until troops from Boulac came up to his assistance.
    
He left me at headquarters with just one guard; however, he was well-informed about the situation with the insurgents. I trusted his skills and insight completely, so I wasn’t worried and awaited his return calmly. My calmness didn’t waver even when I saw a group of insurgents attack the house of M. Estève, our paymaster-general, which was located on the other side of Ezbekye'h Place. Luckily, M. Estève was able to fend off the attack until troops from Boulac arrived to help him.







      After visiting all the posts, and adopting every precautionary measure,
      Bonaparte returned to headquarters. Finding me still alone with the
      sentinel, he asked me, smiling, "whether I had not been frightened?"—"Not
      at all, General, I assure you," replied I.
    
After checking on all the posts and taking every precaution, Bonaparte went back to headquarters. When he found me still alone with the sentinel, he smiled and asked, "Were you scared?"—"Not at all, General, I promise," I replied.







      —It was about half-past eight in the morning when Bonaparte returned
      to headquarters, and while at breakfast he was informed that some Bedouin
      Arabs, on horseback, were trying to force their entrance into Cairo. He
      ordered his aide de camp, Sulkowsky, to mount his horse, to take with him
      fifteen guides, and proceed to the point where the assailants were most
      numerous. This was the Bab-el-Nasser, or the gate of victory. Croisier
      observed to the General-in-Chief that Sulkowsky had scarcely recovered
      from the wounds at Salehye'h, and he offered to take his place. He had his
      motives for this. Bonaparte consented; but Sulkowsky had already set out.
      Within an hour after, one of the fifteen guides returned, covered with
      blood, to announce that Sulkowsky and the remainder of his party had been
      cut to pieces. This was speedy work, for we were still at table when the
      sad news arrived.
    
—It was around 8:30 in the morning when Bonaparte got back to headquarters, and while he was having breakfast, he was notified that some Bedouin Arabs on horseback were trying to break into Cairo. He instructed his aide-de-camp, Sulkowsky, to get on his horse, take fifteen guides with him, and head to the area where the attackers were most numerous. This was the Bab-el-Nasser, or the gate of victory. Croisier pointed out to the General-in-Chief that Sulkowsky had hardly recovered from his injuries at Salehye'h and offered to take his place. He had his reasons for doing this. Bonaparte agreed; however, Sulkowsky had already left. Less than an hour later, one of the fifteen guides came back, covered in blood, to report that Sulkowsky and the rest of his party had been massacred. This happened quickly, as we were still at the table when we received the tragic news.







      Mortars were planted on Mount Mokatam, which commands Cairo. The populace,
      expelled from all the principal streets by the troops, assembled in the
      square of the Great Mosque, and in the little streets running into it,
      which they barricaded. The firing of the artillery on the heights was kept
      up with vigour for two days.
    
Mortars were set up on Mount Mokatam, overlooking Cairo. The people, forced out of all the main streets by the soldiers, gathered in the square of the Great Mosque and in the small streets leading to it, which they barricaded. The artillery fired from the heights continued vigorously for two days.







      About twelve of the principal chiefs of Cairo were arrested and confined
      in an apartment at headquarters. They awaited with the calmest resignation
      the death they knew they merited; but Bonaparte merely detained them as
      hostages. The aga in the service of Bonaparte was astonished that sentence
      of death was not pronounced upon them; and he said, shrugging his
      shoulders, and with a gesture apparently intended to provoke severity,
      "You see they expect it."
    
About twelve of the main chiefs of Cairo were arrested and locked up in a room at headquarters. They awaited their imminent death with a resigned calm, knowing they deserved it; but Bonaparte only kept them as hostages. The aga working for Bonaparte was surprised that they weren't sentenced to death, and he said, shrugging his shoulders and making a gesture that seemed to invite harsher punishment, "You see they’re expecting it."







      On the third the insurrection was at an end, and tranquillity restored.
      Numerous prisoners were conducted to the citadel. In obedience to an order
      which I wrote every evening, twelve were put to death nightly. The bodies
      were then put into sacks and thrown into the Nile. There were many women
      included in these nocturnal executions.
    
On the third day, the uprising ended, and peace was restored.  
      Numerous prisoners were taken to the citadel. Following an order I wrote every evening, twelve were executed each night. The bodies were then placed in sacks and thrown into the Nile. Many women were among those executed during these nightly events.







      I am not aware that the number of victims amounted to thirty per day, as
      Bonaparte assured General Reynier in a letter which he wrote to him six
      days after the restoration of tranquillity. "Every night," said he, "we
      cut off thirty heads. This, I hope, will be an effectual example." I am of
      opinion that in this instance he exaggerated the extent of his just
      revenge.
    
I’m not aware that the number of victims was as high as thirty a day, as Bonaparte told General Reynier in a letter he wrote six days after peace was restored. "Every night," he said, "we execute thirty people. I hope this will serve as a strong example." I believe he exaggerated the scale of his justified revenge in this case.







      Some time after the revolt of Cairo the necessity of ensuring our own
      safety forced the commission of a terrible act of cruelty. A tribe of
      Arabs in the neighbourhood of Cairo had surprised and massacred a party of
      French. The General-in-Chief ordered his aide de camp Croisier to proceed
      to the spot, surround the tribe, destroy the huts, kill all the men, and
      conduct the rest of the population to Cairo. The order was to decapitate
      the victims, and bring their heads in sacks to Cairo to be exhibited to
      the people. Eugène Beauharnais accompanied Croisier, who joyfully set out
      on this horrible expedition, in hope of obliterating all recollection of
      the affair of Damanhour.
    
Some time after the Cairo uprising, we had to take severe measures to ensure our safety. A group of Arabs near Cairo had attacked and killed a group of French soldiers. The General-in-Chief instructed his aide-de-camp Croisier to go to the location, surround the tribe, destroy their huts, kill all the men, and bring the remaining people to Cairo. The order was to behead the victims and bring their heads in sacks back to Cairo to show the public. Eugène Beauharnais went with Croisier, who eagerly set off on this gruesome mission, hoping to erase all memories of the Damanhour incident.







      On the following day the party returned. Many of the poor Arab women had
      been delivered on the road, and the children had perished of hunger, heat,
      and fatigue. About four o'clock a troop of asses arrived in Ezbekye'h
      Place, laden with sacks. The sacks were opened and the heads rolled out
      before the assembled populace. I cannot describe the horror I experienced;
      but I must nevertheless acknowledge that this butchery ensured for a
      considerable time the tranquillity and even the existence of the little
      caravans which were obliged to travel in all directions for the service of
      the army.
    
On the next day, the group came back. Many of the poor Arab women had given birth on the road, and the children had died from hunger, heat, and exhaustion. Around four o'clock, a group of donkeys arrived in Ezbekye'h Place, carrying sacks. The sacks were opened, and the heads rolled out in front of the gathered crowd. I can't fully express the horror I felt; however, I must admit that this slaughter provided, for quite some time, peace and even survival for the small caravans that needed to travel in all directions to support the army.







      Shortly before the loss of the fleet the General-in Chief had formed the
      design of visiting Suez, to examine the traces of the ancient canal which
      united the Nile to the Gulf of Arabia, and also to cross the latter. The
      revolt at Cairo caused this project to be adjourned until the month of
      December.
    
Shortly before the loss of the fleet, the Chief General planned to visit Suez to check out the remnants of the ancient canal that connected the Nile to the Gulf of Arabia and also to cross the Gulf. The uprising in Cairo delayed this plan until December.







      Before his departure for Suez, Bonaparte granted the commissary Sucy leave
      to return to France. He had received a wound in the right hand, when on
      board the xebec 'Cerf'. I was conversing with him on deck when he received
      this wound. At first it had no appearance of being serious; but some time
      after he could not use his hand. General Bonaparte despatched a vessel
      with sick and wounded, who were supposed to be incurable, to the number of
      about eighty. All envied their fate, and were anxious to depart with them,
      but the privilege was conceded to very few. However, those who were,
      disappointed had, no cause for regret. We never know what we wish for.
      Captain Marengo, who landed at Augusta in Sicily, supposing it to be a
      friendly land, was required to observe quarantine for twenty-two days, and
      information was given of the arrival of the vessel to the court, which was
      at Palermo. On the 25th of January 1799 all on board the French vessel
      were massacred, with the exception of twenty-one who were saved by a
      Neapolitan frigate, and conducted to Messing, where they were detained.
    
Before he left for Suez, Bonaparte allowed the commissary Sucy to return to France. He had gotten a wound in his right hand while on board the xebec 'Cerf'. I was talking to him on deck when he got injured. At first, it didn’t seem serious; but after a while, he couldn’t use his hand. General Bonaparte sent a ship with about eighty sick and wounded soldiers, who were thought to be incurable. Everyone envied their situation and wanted to leave with them, but only a few were granted that privilege. However, those who were disappointed had no reason to regret it. We never really know what we want. Captain Marengo, who landed in Augusta, Sicily, thinking it was a friendly place, had to observe quarantine for twenty-two days, and the court in Palermo was informed of the ship's arrival. On January 25, 1799, everyone on board the French vessel was killed, except for twenty-one who were rescued by a Neapolitan frigate and taken to Messing, where they were held.







      Before he conceived the resolution of attacking the Turkish advanced guard
      in the valleys of Syria, Bonaparte had formed a plan of invading British
      India from Persia. He had ascertained, through the medium of agents, that
      the Shah of Persia would, for a sum of money paid in advance, consent to
      the establishment of military magazines on certain points of his
      territory. Bonaparte frequently told me that if, after the subjugation of
      Egypt, he could have left 15,000 men in that country, and have had 30,000
      disposable troops, he would have marched on the Euphrates. He was
      frequently speaking about the deserts which were to be crossed to reach
      Persia.
    
Before he decided to attack the Turkish advanced guard in the valleys of Syria, Bonaparte had a plan to invade British India from Persia. He found out through his agents that the Shah of Persia would agree to allow military supply depots on certain parts of his land for a fee paid upfront. Bonaparte often told me that if, after conquering Egypt, he could have left 15,000 men there and had 30,000 troops available, he would have moved on to the Euphrates. He frequently talked about the deserts that needed to be crossed to get to Persia.







      How many times have I seen him extended on the ground, examining the
      beautiful maps which he had brought with him, and he would sometimes make
      me lie down in the same position to trace to me his projected march. This
      reminded him of the triumphs of his favourite hero, Alexander, with whom
      he so much desired to associate his name; but, at the same time, he felt
      that these projects were incompatible with our resources, the weakness of
      the Government; and the dissatisfaction which the army already evinced.
      Privation and misery are inseparable from all these remote operations.
    
How many times have I seen him lying on the ground, studying the beautiful maps he had brought with him? Sometimes he would have me lie down in the same position to show me his planned route. This reminded him of the victories of his favorite hero, Alexander, with whom he was eager to associate his name. However, he also realized that these plans clashed with our resources, the weakness of the Government, and the discontent already shown by the army. Hardship and suffering are unavoidable in all of these distant operations.







      This favourite idea still occupied his mind a fortnight before his
      departure for Syria was determined on, and on the 25th of January 1799 he
      wrote to Tippoo Saib as follows:—
    
This favorite idea still occupied his mind two weeks before his departure for Syria was confirmed, and on January 25, 1799, he wrote to Tippoo Saib as follows:—






   You are of course already informed of my arrival on the banks of
   the Red Sea, with a numerous and invincible army. Eager to deliver
   you from the iron yoke of England, I hasten to request that you will
   send me, by the way of Mascate or Mocha, an account of the political
   situation in which you are. I also wish that you could send to
   Suez, or Grand Cairo, some able man, in your confidence, with whom I
   may confer.

   —[It is not true, as has often been stated, that Tippoo Saib wrote
   to General Bonaparte. He could not reply to a letter written on the
   23th of January, owing to the great difficulty of communication, the
   considerable distance, and the short interval which elapsed between
   the 25th of January and the fall of the Empire of Mysore, which
   happened on the 20th of April following. The letter to Tippo Saib
   commenced "Citizen-Sultan!"—Bourrienne]— 
You already know that I've arrived on the banks of the Red Sea with a large and unstoppable army. Eager to free you from the oppressive rule of England, I'm quick to ask that you send me, either through Mascate or Mocha, an update on the political situation you're in. I would also appreciate it if you could send an able person you trust to Suez or Grand Cairo, so I can discuss matters with them.

—[It is not true, as has often been stated, that Tippoo Saib wrote to General Bonaparte. He could not respond to a letter written on the 23rd of January, due to the difficulties of communication, the considerable distance, and the short time that passed between the 25th of January and the fall of the Empire of Mysore, which occurred on the 20th of April following. The letter to Tippo Saib began with "Citizen-Sultan!"—Bourrienne]—








 


 




















      CHAPTER XVII.
    



      1798-1799.
    
1798-1799.


   Bonaparte's departure for Suez—Crossing the desert—Passage of the
   Red Sea—The fountain of Moses—The Cenobites of Mount Sinai—Danger
   in recrossing the Red Sea—Napoleon's return to Cairo—Money
   borrowed at Genoa—New designs upon Syria—Dissatisfaction of the
   Ottoman Porte—Plan for invading Asia—Gigantic schemes—General
   Berthier's permission to return to France—His romantic love and the
   adored portrait—He gives up his permission to return home—Louis
   Bonaparte leaves Egypt—The first Cashmere shawl in France—
   Intercepted correspondence—Departure for Syria—Fountains of
   Messoudish—Bonaparte jealous—Discontent of the troops—El-Arish
   taken—Aspect of Syria—Ramleh—Jerusalem.

Bonaparte's journey to Suez—Crossing the desert—Crossing the Red Sea—The fountain of Moses—The Cenobites of Mount Sinai—Risk in crossing the Red Sea again—Napoleon's return to Cairo—Money borrowed in Genoa—New ambitions for Syria—Discontent from the Ottoman Porte—Plans to invade Asia—Massive schemes—General Berthier's approval to go back to France—His romantic love and the cherished portrait—He gives up his chance to go home—Louis Bonaparte departs from Egypt—The first Cashmere shawl arrives in France—Intercepted letters—Departure for Syria—Fountains of Messoudish—Bonaparte feels jealous—Discontent among the troops—El-Arish captured—Overview of Syria—Ramleh—Jerusalem.







      On the 24th of December we set out for Suez, where we arrived on the 26th.
      On the 25th we encamped in the desert some leagues before Ad-Geroth. The
      heat had been very great during the day; but about eleven at night the
      cold became so severe as to be precisely in an inverse ratio to the
      temperature of the day. This desert, which is the route of the caravans
      from Suez, from Tor and the countries situated on the north of Arabia, is
      strewed with the bones of the men and animals who, for ages past, have
      perished in crossing it. As there was no wood to be got, we collected a
      quantity of these bones for fuel. Monge himself was induced to sacrifice
      some of the curious skulls of animals which he had picked up on the way
      and deposited in the Berlin of the General-in-Chief. But no sooner had we
      kindled our fires than an intolerable effluvium obliged us to raise our
      camp and advance farther on, for we could procure no water to extinguish
      the fires.
    
On December 24th, we set off for Suez, reaching it on the 26th. On the 25th, we camped in the desert a few leagues before Ad-Geroth. The heat during the day was intense, but by around eleven at night, the cold was so harsh that it was exactly the opposite of the daytime temperature. This desert, which is the main route for caravans coming from Suez, Tor, and the northern Arabian territories, is littered with the bones of men and animals that have died crossing it over the centuries. Since there was no wood available, we gathered a bunch of these bones to use as fuel. Monge even agreed to give up some of the unique animal skulls he had collected along the way, which he had left with the General-in-Chief in Berlin. However, as soon as we lit our fires, an unbearable smell forced us to pack up and move on because we couldn’t get any water to put the fires out.







      On the 27th Bonaparte employed himself in inspecting the town and port of
      Suez, and in giving orders for some naval and military works. He feared—what
      indeed really occurred after his departure from Egypt—the arrival of
      some English troops from the East Indies, which he had intended to invade.
      These regiments contributed to the loss of his conquest.
    
On the 27th, Bonaparte focused on checking out the town and port of Suez and gave orders for some naval and military projects. He was worried—what actually happened after he left Egypt—about the arrival of some English troops from the East Indies, which he had planned to invade. These regiments played a part in the loss of his conquest.






 —[Sir David Baird, with a force of about 7000 men sent from India,
   landed at Cosseir in July 1801.]— 
—[Sir David Baird, with a force of around 7,000 men sent from India, landed at Cosseir in July 1801.]—







      On the morning of the 28th we crossed the Red Sea dry-shod, to go to the
      Wells of Moses, which are nearly a myriametre from the eastern coast, and
      a little southeast of Suez. The Gulf of Arabia terminates at about 5,000
      metres north of that city. Near the port the Red Sea is not above 1,500
      metres wide, and is always fordable at low water. The caravans from Tor
      and Mount Sinai always pass at that part,
    
On the morning of the 28th, we crossed the Red Sea without getting wet, heading to the Wells of Moses, which are about a kilometer from the eastern shore and a bit southeast of Suez. The Gulf of Arabia ends about 5,000 meters north of that city. Near the port, the Red Sea is no more than 1,500 meters wide and is always crossable at low tide. The caravans from Tor and Mount Sinai always go through that area.






 —[I shall say nothing of the Cenobites of Mount Sinai, as I had not
   the honour of seeing them. Neither did I see the register
   containing the names of Ali, Salah-Eddin, Ibrahim or Abraham,
   on which Bonaparte is said to have inscribed his name. I perceived
   at a distance some high hills which were said to be Mount Sinai.
   I conversed, through the medium of an interpreter, with some Arabian
   chiefs of Tor and its neighbourhood. They had been informed of our
   excursion to the Wells, and that they might there thank the French
   General for the protection granted to their caravans and their trade
   with Egypt. On the 19th of December, before his departure from
   Suez, Bonaparte signed a sort of safeguard, or exemption from
   duties, for the convent of Mount Sinai. This had been granted out
   of respect to Moses and the Jewish nation, and also because the
   convent of Mount Sinai is a seat of learning and civilisation amidst
   the barbarism of the deserts.—Bourrienne.]— 
 —[I won't mention the Cenobites of Mount Sinai, since I didn't have the honor of seeing them. I also didn't see the register with the names of Ali, Salah-Eddin, Ibrahim, or Abraham, where Bonaparte is said to have signed his name. From a distance, I noticed some high hills that were said to be Mount Sinai. I spoke, through an interpreter, with some Arab chiefs from Tor and the surrounding areas. They had heard about our trip to the Wells and wanted to thank the French General for the protection he provided to their caravans and trade with Egypt. On December 19th, before leaving Suez, Bonaparte signed a kind of protection certificate or exemption from duties for the convent of Mount Sinai. This was granted out of respect for Moses and the Jewish people, and because the convent serves as a center of learning and civilization amid the desert's barbarism.—Bourrienne.]—







      either in going to or returning from Egypt. This shortens their journey
      nearly a myriametre. At high tide the water rises five or six feet at
      Suez, and when the wind blows fresh it often rises to nine or ten feet.
    
either in going to or returning from Egypt. This shortens their journey nearly a mile. At high tide, the water rises five or six feet at Suez, and when the wind blows strong, it often rises to nine or ten feet.







      We spent a few hours seated by the largest of the springs called the Wells
      of Moses, situated on the eastern shore of the Gulf of Arabia. We made
      coffee with the water from these springs, which, however, gave it such a
      brackish taste that it was scarcely drinkable.
    
We spent a few hours sitting by the largest of the springs called the Wells of Moses, located on the eastern shore of the Gulf of Arabia. We made coffee with the water from these springs, but it had such a salty taste that it was barely drinkable.







      Though the water of the eight little springs which form the Wells of Moses
      is not so salt as that of many wells dug in other parts of the deserts, it
      is, nevertheless, exceedingly brackish, and does not allay thirst so well
      as fresh water.
    
Though the water from the eight small springs that make up the Wells of Moses isn't as salty as that of many wells found in other parts of the desert, it is still quite brackish and doesn't quench thirst as well as fresh water does.







      Bonaparte returned to Suez that same night. It was very dark when we
      reached the sea-shore. The tide was coming up, and the water was pretty
      high. We deviated a little from the way we had taken in the morning; we
      crossed a little too low down; we were thrown into disorder, but we did
      not lose ourselves in the marshes as has been stated. There were none. I
      have read somewhere, though I did not see the fact, nor did I hear it
      mentioned at the time, that the tide, which was coming up, would have been
      the grave of the General-in-Chief had not one of the guides saved him by
      carrying him on his shoulders. If any such danger had existed, all who had
      not a similar means of escape must have perished.
    
Bonaparte returned to Suez that same night. It was very dark when we reached the shore. The tide was coming in, and the water was quite high. We strayed a bit from the route we had taken in the morning; we crossed a little too low down, which threw us into chaos, but we didn’t get lost in the marshes as has been claimed. There weren’t any. I’ve read somewhere, although I didn’t witness it and didn’t hear it mentioned at the time, that the rising tide would have claimed the General-in-Chief if one of the guides hadn’t saved him by carrying him on his shoulders. If such a danger had existed, everyone without a similar means of escape would have surely perished.







      This is a fabrication. General Caffarelli was the only person who was
      really in danger, for his wooden leg prevented his sitting firmly on his
      horse in the water; but some persons came to his assistance and supported
      him.
    
This is a fabrication. General Caffarelli was the only one truly in danger, because his wooden leg made it hard for him to sit securely on his horse in the water; however, some people came to help and supported him.






 —[Bonaparte extricated himself as the others did from the real
   danger he and his escort had run. At St. Helena he said, "Profiting
   by the low tide, I crossed the Red Sea dry-shod. On my return I was
   overtaken by the night and went astray in the middle of the rising
   tide. I ran the greatest danger. I nearly perished in the same
   manner as Pharaoh did. This would certainly have furnished all the
   Christian preachers with a magnificent test against me."
   —Bourrienne.]— 
—[Bonaparte, like the others, managed to escape the real danger he and his escort faced. At St. Helena, he said, "Taking advantage of the low tide, I crossed the Red Sea without getting wet. On my way back, night fell, and I got lost in the rising tide. I was in serious danger. I almost met the same fate as Pharaoh. This would have definitely given all the Christian preachers a great opportunity to turn against me."  
—Bourrienne.]—







      On his return to Cairo the General-in-Chief wished to discover the site of
      the canal which in ancient times formed a junction between the Red Sea and
      the Nile by Belbeis. M. Lepère, who was a member of the Egyptian
      Institute, and is now inspector-general of bridges and highways, executed
      on the spot a beautiful plan, which may confidently be consulted by those
      who wish to form an accurate idea of that ancient communication, and the
      level of the two seas.
    
On his return to Cairo, the General-in-Chief wanted to find the location of the canal that used to connect the Red Sea and the Nile near Belbeis. M. Lepère, a member of the Egyptian Institute and currently the inspector-general of bridges and highways, created a detailed plan on-site, which can be reliably used by those looking to understand that ancient connection and the elevation of the two seas.






 —[Since accurately ascertained during the progress of the works for
   the Suez Canal.]— 
 —[Since accurately determined during the progress of the work on the Suez Canal.]—







      On his arrival at the capital Bonaparte again devoted all his thoughts to
      the affairs of the army, which he had not attended to during his short
      absence. The revenues of Egypt were far from being sufficient to meet the
      military expenditure. To defray his own expenses Bonaparte raised several
      considerable loans in Genoa through the medium of M. James. The connection
      of James with the Bonaparte family takes its date from this period.
    
On his arrival in the capital, Bonaparte focused all his attention on the army's affairs, which he had neglected during his brief absence. The revenues from Egypt were nowhere near enough to cover the military costs. To cover his own expenses, Bonaparte secured several large loans in Genoa through M. James. This connection between James and the Bonaparte family began at this time.






 —[Joseph Bonaparte says that the fathers of Napoleon and of M.
   James had long known one another, and that Napoleon had met James at
   Autun. ('Erreurs', tome i, p. 296).]— 
—[Joseph Bonaparte says that the fathers of Napoleon and of M. James had known each other for a long time, and that Napoleon met James in Autun. ('Erreurs', tome i, p. 296).]—







      Since the month of August the attention of General Bonaparte had been
      constantly fixed on Syria. The period of the possible landing of an enemy
      in Egypt had now passed away, and could not return until the month of July
      in the following year. Bonaparte was fully convinced that that landing
      would take place, and he was not deceived. The Ottoman Porte had, indeed,
      been persuaded that the conquest of Egypt was not in her interest. She
      preferred enduring a rebel whom she hoped one day to subdue to supporting
      a power which, under the specious pretext of reducing her insurgent beys
      to obedience, deprived her of one of her finest provinces, and threatened
      the rest of the empire.
    
Since August, General Bonaparte had been focused on Syria. The opportunity for an enemy landing in Egypt had now passed and wouldn't come again until July of the following year. Bonaparte was completely convinced that such a landing would happen, and he was right. The Ottoman Porte had indeed been led to believe that conquering Egypt wasn't in its best interest. It preferred to deal with a rebel it hoped to control one day rather than support a power that, under the misleading pretense of making its insurgent beys obey, would take away one of its best provinces and threaten the rest of the empire.







      On his return to Cairo the General-in-Chief had no longer any doubt as to
      the course which the Porte intended to adopt. The numerous class of
      persons who believed that the Ottoman Porte had consented to our
      occupation of Egypt were suddenly undeceived. It was then asked how we
      could, without that consent, have attempted such an enterprise? Nothing,
      it was said, could justify the temerity of such an expedition, if it
      should produce a rupture between France, the Ottoman empire, and its
      allies. However, for the remainder of the year Bonaparte dreaded nothing
      except an expedition from Gaza and El-Arish, of which the troops of
      Djezzar had already taken possession. This occupation was justly regarded
      as a decided act of hostility; war was thus practically declared. "We must
      adopt anticipatory measures," thought Napoleon; "we must destroy this
      advanced guard of the Ottoman empire, overthrow the ramparts of Jaffa and
      Acre, ravage the country, destroy all her resources, so as to render the
      passage of an army across the desert impracticable." Thus was planned the
      expedition against Syria.
    
On his return to Cairo, the General-in-Chief was no longer uncertain about the direction the Porte intended to take. The large group of people who thought that the Ottoman Porte had agreed to our occupation of Egypt were quickly disillusioned. Then questions arose about how we could have attempted such an operation without that consent. It was argued that nothing could excuse the boldness of such a mission, especially if it led to a conflict between France, the Ottoman Empire, and its allies. However, for the rest of the year, Bonaparte feared nothing more than an attack from Gaza and El-Arish, which Djezzar's troops had already occupied. This occupation was rightly seen as a clear act of hostility; war had effectively been declared. "We need to take preventative measures," thought Napoleon; "we must eliminate this forward position of the Ottoman Empire, break down the defenses of Jaffa and Acre, devastate the area, and destroy all its resources to make it impossible for an army to cross the desert." This is how the expedition against Syria was planned.







      General Berthier, after repeated entreaties, had obtained permission to
      return to France. The 'Courageuse' frigate, which was to convey him home,
      was fitting out at Alexandria; he had received his instructions, and was
      to leave Cairo on the 29th of January, ten days before Bonaparte's
      departure for Syria. Bonaparte was sorry to part with him; but he could
      not endure to see an old friend, and one who had served him well in all
      his campaigns, dying before his eyes, the victim of nostalgia and romantic
      love. Besides, Berthier had been for some time past, anything but active
      in the discharge of his duties. His passion, which amounted almost to
      madness, impaired the feeble faculties with which nature had endowed him.
      Some writers have ranked him in the class of sentimental lovers: be this
      as it may, the homage which Berthier rendered to the portrait of the
      object of his adoration more frequently excited our merriment than our
      sensibility.
    
General Berthier had finally gotten permission to return to France after many requests. The 'Courageuse' frigate, which was supposed to take him home, was being readied in Alexandria. He had received his orders and was set to leave Cairo on January 29th, ten days before Bonaparte's departure for Syria. Bonaparte was sad to see him go, but he couldn’t bear to watch an old friend, who had been a great help in all his campaigns, suffer before him, consumed by nostalgia and unrequited love. Moreover, Berthier had not been very effective in his duties for a while. His intense passion, which bordered on madness, weakened the already limited abilities he had. Some writers have placed him among the sentimental lovers; however, the admiration Berthier showed for the portrait of his beloved often brought us more laughter than sympathy.







      One day I went with an order from Bonaparte to the chief of his staff,
      whom I found on his knees before the portrait of Madame Visconti, which
      was hanging opposite the door. I touched him, to let him know I was there.
      He grumbled a little, but did not get angry.
    
One day I went to deliver a message from Bonaparte to his chief of staff, who I found kneeling in front of the portrait of Madame Visconti, which was hanging across from the door. I lightly touched him to let him know I was there. He complained a bit but didn’t get mad.







      The moment was approaching when the two friends were to part, perhaps
      forever. Bonaparte was sincerely distressed at this separation, and the
      chief of his staff was informed of the fact. At a moment when it was
      supposed Berthier was on his way to Alexandria, he presented himself to
      the General-in-Chief. "You are, then, decidedly going to Asia?" said he.—"You
      know," replied the General, "that all is ready, and I shall set out in a
      few days."—"Well, I will not leave you. I voluntarily renounce all
      idea of returning to France. I could not endure to forsake you at a moment
      when you are going to encounter new dangers. Here are my instructions and
      my passport." Bonaparte, highly pleased with this resolution, embraced
      Berthier; and the coolness which had been excited by his request to return
      home was succeeded by a sincere reconciliation.
    
The moment was getting closer when the two friends would part ways, possibly for good. Bonaparte was genuinely upset about this separation, and he let his chief of staff know. Just when it was thought that Berthier was heading to Alexandria, he showed up to see the General-in-Chief. "So, you're definitely going to Asia?" he asked. "You know," the General replied, "that everything is ready, and I'll be leaving in a few days." "Well, I'm not leaving you. I'm choosing to give up any thought of returning to France. I couldn’t bear to abandon you at a time when you’re facing new dangers. Here are my instructions and my passport." Bonaparte, very pleased with this decision, embraced Berthier; and the tension that had arisen from his request to go home was replaced by genuine reconciliation.







      Louis Bonaparte, who was suffering from the effects of the voyage, was
      still at Alexandria. The General-in-Chief, yielding to the pacific views
      of his younger brother, who was also beginning to evince some symptoms of
      nostalgia, consented to his return home. He could not, however, depart
      until the 11th of March 1799. I felt the absence of Louis very much.
    
Louis Bonaparte, who was feeling the effects of the journey, was still in Alexandria. The General-in-Chief, giving in to the peaceful thoughts of his younger brother, who was also starting to show signs of longing for home, agreed to let him return. However, he couldn't leave until March 11, 1799. I really felt Louis's absence.







      On his return to France Louis passed through Sens, where he dined with
      Madame de Bourrienne, to whom he presented a beautiful shawl, which
      General Berthier had given me. This, I believe, was the first Cashmere
      that had ever been seen in France. Louis was much surprised when Madame de
      Bourrienne showed him the Egyptian correspondence, which had been seized
      by the English and printed in London. He found in the collection some
      letters addressed to himself, and there were others, he said, which were
      likely to disturb the peace of more than one family on the return of the
      army.
    
On his return to France, Louis passed through Sens, where he had dinner with Madame de Bourrienne, to whom he gave a beautiful shawl that General Berthier had given me. I believe this was the first Cashmere ever seen in France. Louis was quite surprised when Madame de Bourrienne showed him the Egyptian correspondence, which had been seized by the English and printed in London. He found some letters addressed to him in the collection, and there were others, he said, that could disrupt the peace of more than one family upon the army's return.







      On the 11th of February 1799 we began our march for Syria, with about
      12,000 men. It has been erroneously stated that the army amounted to only
      6000: nearly that number was lost in the course of the campaign. However,
      at the very moment we were on our way to Syria, with 12,000 men, scarcely
      as many being left in Egypt, the Directory published that, "according to
      the information which had been received," we had 60,000 infantry and
      10,000 cavalry; that the army had doubled its numbers by battles; and that
      since our arrival in Egypt, we had lost only 300 men. Is history to be
      written from such documents?
    
On February 11, 1799, we started our march to Syria with around 12,000 men. It has been mistakenly reported that the army was only 6,000 strong: nearly that many were lost during the campaign. However, at the time we were heading to Syria with 12,000 men, there were hardly as many left in Egypt. Meanwhile, the Directory claimed that "according to the information received," we had 60,000 infantry and 10,000 cavalry; that the army had doubled in size through battles; and that since we arrived in Egypt, we had lost only 300 men. Is history supposed to be recorded based on documents like this?







      We arrived, about four o'clock in the afternoon, at Messoudiah, or, "the
      Fortunate Spot." Here we witnessed a kind of phenomenon, which was not a
      little agreeable to us. Messoudiah is a place situated on the coast of the
      Mediterranean, surrounded with little dunes of very fine sand, which the
      copious rains of winter readily penetrate. The rain remains in the sand,
      so that on making with the fingers holes of four or five inches in depth
      at the bottom of these little hills, the water immediately flows out. This
      water was, indeed, rather thick, but its flavour was agreeable; and it
      would have become clear if we could have spared time to allow it to rest
      and deposit the particles of sand it contained.
    
We arrived around four o'clock in the afternoon at Messoudiah, or "the Fortunate Spot." Here we experienced a phenomenon that was quite enjoyable for us. Messoudiah is located on the coast of the Mediterranean, surrounded by small dunes of very fine sand that easily absorb the heavy winter rains. The rain stays in the sand, so when you dig holes four or five inches deep at the bottom of these little hills, water instantly flows out. This water was a bit thick, but it had a pleasant taste, and it would have become clear if we had time to let it settle and remove the sand particles it contained.







      It was a curious spectacle to behold us all lying prostrate, digging wells
      in miniature; and displaying a laughable selfishness in our endeavours to
      obtain the most abundant source. This was a very important discovery to
      us. We found these sand-wells at the extremity of the desert, and it
      contributed, in no small degree, to revive the courage of our soldiers;
      besides, when men are, as was the case with us, subject to privations of
      every kind, the least benefit which accrues inspires the hope of a new
      advantage. We were approaching the confines of Syria, and we enjoyed by
      anticipation, the pleasure we were about to experience, on treading a soil
      which, by its variety of verdure and vegetation, would remind us of our
      native land. At Messoudiah we likewise possessed the advantage of bathing
      in the sea, which was not more than fifty paces from our unexpected
      water-supply.
    
It was a strange sight to see us all lying flat on the ground, digging tiny wells, and showing a comical selfishness in our efforts to find the best source. This was a really important discovery for us. We found these sand wells at the edge of the desert, and it greatly boosted the morale of our soldiers; plus, when people are, like us, facing every kind of hardship, even the smallest benefit gives rise to the hope of something better. We were getting close to the borders of Syria, and we looked forward to the joy we would feel walking on land that, with its variety of greenery and plants, would remind us of home. At Messoudiah, we also had the chance to swim in the sea, which was only about fifty steps away from our surprising water source.







      Whilst near the wells of Messoudiah, on the way to El-Arish, I one day saw
      Bonaparte walking alone with Junot, as he was often in the habit of doing.
      I stood at a little distance, and my eyes, I know not why, were fixed on
      him during their conversation. The General's countenance, which was always
      pale, had, without my being able to divine the cause, become paler than
      usual. There was something convulsive in his features—a wildness in
      his look, and he several times struck his head with his hand. After
      conversing with Junot about a quarter of an hour he quitted him and came
      towards me. I never saw him exhibit such an air of dissatisfaction, or
      appear so much under the influence of some prepossession. I advanced
      towards him, and as soon as we met, he exclaimed in an abrupt and angry
      tone, "So! I find I cannot depend upon you.—These women!—Josephine!
      —if you had loved me, you would before now have told me all I have
      heard from Junot—he is a real friend—Josephine!—and I
      600 leagues from her—you ought to have told me.—That she
      should thus have deceived me!—'Woe to them!—I will exterminate
      the whole race of fops and puppies!—As to her—divorce!—yes,
      divorce! a public and open divorce!—I must write!—I know all!—It
      is your fault—you ought to have told me!"
    
While near the wells of Messoudiah, on the way to El-Arish, I once saw Bonaparte walking alone with Junot, as he often did. I stood a little distance away, and for some reason, my eyes were fixed on him during their conversation. The General’s face, which was always pale, had become even paler than usual, though I couldn't figure out why. There was something tense in his features—a wildness in his gaze—and he struck his head with his hand several times. After talking with Junot for about fifteen minutes, he left him and came toward me. I had never seen him look so dissatisfied or so affected by some deep-seated feeling. I moved closer, and as soon as we met, he said in a sharp and angry tone, "So! I find I can't depend on you.—These women!—Josephine!—if you had loved me, you would have told me everything I heard from Junot by now—he is a true friend—Josephine!—and I am 600 leagues away from her—you should have told me.—That she should deceive me like this!—Woe to them!—I will wipe out the whole breed of fops and fools!—As for her—divorce!—yes, divorce! a public and open divorce!—I must write!—I know everything!—It’s your fault—you should have told me!"







      These energetic and broken exclamations, his disturbed countenance and
      altered voice informed me but too well of the subject of his conversation
      with Junot. I saw that Junot had been drawn into a culpable indiscretion;
      and that, if Josephine had committed any faults, he had cruelly
      exaggerated them. My situation was one of extreme delicacy. However, I had
      the good fortune to retain my self-possession, and as soon as some degree
      of calmness succeeded to this first burst, I replied that I knew nothing
      of the reports which Junot might have communicated to him; that even if
      such reports, often the offspring of calumny, had reached my ear, and if I
      had considered it my duty to inform him of them, I certainly would not
      have selected for that purpose the moment when he was 600 leagues from
      France. I also did not conceal how blamable Junot's conduct appeared to
      me, and how ungenerous I considered it thus rashly to accuse a woman who
      was not present to justify or defend herself; that it was no great proof
      of attachment to add domestic uneasiness to the anxiety, already
      sufficiently great, which the situation of his brothers in arms, at the
      commencement of a hazardous enterprise, occasioned him.
    
These frantic and broken exclamations, his troubled expression and changed tone made it clear to me what he had discussed with Junot. I realized that Junot had gotten involved in a serious mistake, and that if Josephine had made any errors, he had cruelly exaggerated them. My situation was very delicate. However, I was fortunate enough to keep my composure, and as soon as I calmed down from that initial outburst, I responded that I didn’t know anything about the rumors that Junot might have shared with him; that even if such rumors, which often stem from slander, had reached me, and if I felt it was my duty to inform him about them, I certainly wouldn’t have chosen the moment when he was 600 leagues away from France. I also didn’t hide how wrong I thought Junot’s behavior was, and how mean it was to hastily accuse a woman who wasn’t present to defend herself; that it showed little loyalty to add domestic distress to the anxiety he was already feeling about the situation of his fellow soldiers at the beginning of a risky mission.







      Notwithstanding these observations, which, however, he listened to with
      some calmness, the word "divorce" still escaped his lips; and it is
      necessary to be aware of the degree of irritation to which he was liable
      when anything seriously vexed him, to be able to form an idea of what
      Bonaparte was during this painful scene. However, I kept my ground. I
      repeated what I had said. I begged of him to consider with what facility
      tales were fabricated and circulated, and that gossip such as that which
      had been repeated to him was only the amusement of idle persons; and
      deserved the contempt of strong minds. I spoke of his glory. "My glory!"
      cried he. "I know not what I would not give if that which Junot has told
      me should be untrue; so much do I love Josephine! If she be really guilty
      a divorce must separate us for ever. I will not submit to be a
      laughing-stock for all the imbeciles in Paris. I will write to Joseph; he
      will get the divorce declared."
    
Despite these observations, which he listened to with some composure, the word "divorce" still slipped out. It’s important to understand how irritated he could get when something genuinely upset him to grasp what Bonaparte was like during this painful moment. Still, I stood my ground. I repeated what I had said. I urged him to consider how easily stories were made up and spread around, and that gossip like what he had heard was just the entertainment of idle people; it deserved the scorn of strong minds. I spoke about his glory. "My glory!" he shouted. "I can’t express how much I would give if what Junot told me isn’t true; I love Josephine so much! If she’s truly guilty, then a divorce must separate us forever. I refuse to be a joke for all the fools in Paris. I will write to Joseph; he will get the divorce arranged."







      Although his agitation continued long, intervals occurred in which he was
      less excited. I seized one of these moments of comparative calm to combat
      this idea of divorce which seemed to possess his mind. I represented to
      him especially that it would be imprudent to write to his brother with
      reference to a communication which was probably false. "The letter might
      be intercepted; it would betray the feelings of irritation which dictated
      it. As to a divorce, it would be time to think of that hereafter, but
      advisedly."
    
Although he remained agitated for a long time, there were moments when he seemed less worked up. I took one of these calmer moments to challenge his thoughts about divorce, which seemed to be consuming him. I pointed out to him that it would be unwise to write to his brother about something that was likely not true. "The letter could be intercepted; it would reveal the irritation behind it. As for a divorce, we can think about that later, but carefully."







      These last words produced an effect on him which I could not have ventured
      to hope for so speedily. He became tranquil, listened to me as if he had
      suddenly felt the justice of my observations, dropped the subject, and
      never returned to it; except that about a fortnight after, when we were
      before St. Jean d'Acre, he expressed himself greatly dissatisfied with
      Junot, and complained of the injury he had done him by his indiscreet
      disclosures, which he began to regard as the inventions of malignity. I
      perceived afterwards that he never pardoned Junot for this indiscretion;
      and I can state, almost with certainty, that this was one of the reasons
      why Junot was not created a marshal of France, like many of his comrades
      whom Bonaparte had loved less. It may be supposed that Josephine, who was
      afterwards informed by Bonaparte of Junot's conversation, did not feel
      particularly interested in his favour. He died insane on the 27th of July
      1813.
    
These last words had an effect on him that I didn’t expect to see so soon. He calmed down and listened to me as if he suddenly understood my points, dropped the topic, and never brought it up again; except for about two weeks later, when we were in front of St. Jean d'Acre, he expressed his dissatisfaction with Junot and complained about the harm Junot had caused him with his careless talk, which he started to see as malicious lies. I later realized that he never forgave Junot for this slip-up; and I can say with almost complete certainty that this was one of the reasons Junot wasn’t made a marshal of France, unlike many of his peers whom Bonaparte cared about less. It can be assumed that Josephine, who was later informed by Bonaparte about Junot’s remarks, didn’t have much interest in him. He died insane on July 27, 1813.






 —[However indiscreet Junot might on this occasion have shown
   himself in interfering in so delicate a matter, it is pretty certain
   that his suspicions were breathed to no other ear than that of
   Bonaparte himself. Madame Junot, in speaking of the ill-suppressed
   enmity between her husband and Madame Bonaparte, says that he never
   uttered a word even to her of the subject of his conversation with
   the General-in-Chief to Egypt. That Junot's testimony, however,
   notwithstanding the countenance it obtained from Bonaparte's
   relations, ought to be cautiously received, the following passage
   from the Memoirs of the Duchesse d'Abrantes, vol. i. p. 250,
   demonstrative of the feelings of irritation between the parties,
   will show:

   "Junot escorted Madame Bonaparte when she went to join the
   General-in-Chief in Italy. I am surprised that M. de Bourrienne
   has omitted mentioning this circumstance in his Memoirs. He must
   have known it, since he was well acquainted with everything
   relating to Josephine, and knew many facts of high interest in her
   life at this period and subsequently. How happens it too that he
   makes no mention of Mademoiselle Louise, who might be called her
   'demoiselle de compagnie' rather than her 'femme de chambre'? At
   the outset of the journey to Italy she was such a favourite with
   Josephine that she dressed like her mistress, ate at table with
   her, and was in all respects her friend and confidante.

   "The journey was long, much too long for Junot, though he was very
   much in love with Mademoiselle Louise. But he was anxious to join
   the army, for to him his General was always the dearest of
   mistresses. Junot has often spoken to me, and to me alone, of the
   vexations he experienced on this journey. He might have added to
   his circumstantial details relative to Josephine the conversation he
   is reported to have had with Bonaparte to Egypt; but he never
   breathed a word on the subject, for his character was always noble
   and generous. The journey to Italy did not produce the effect which
   usually arises from such incidents in common life; namely, a closer
   friendship and intimacy between the parties. On the contrary,
   Madame Bonaparte from that moment evinced some degree of ill-humour
   towards Junot, and complained with singular warmth of the want of
   respect which he had shown her, in making love to her 'femme de
   chambre' before her face."

   According to 'Erreurs (tome i. pp. 4, 50) Junot was not then in
   Syria. On 10th February Napoleon was at Messoudiah. Junot only
   arrived from Egypt at Gaza on the 25th February. Madame d'Abrantes
   (ii. 32) treats this conversation as apocryphal. "This (an anecdote
   of her own) is not an imaginary episode like that, for example, of
   making a person speak at Messoudiah who never was there."]— 
 —[No matter how indiscreet Junot may have been in getting involved in such a sensitive issue, it's pretty clear that he only shared his suspicions with Bonaparte himself. Madame Junot noted that despite the unresolved tension between her husband and Madame Bonaparte, he never mentioned what he talked about with the General-in-Chief in Egypt, not even to her. However, Junot's account, despite the support it received from Bonaparte's family, should be taken with caution. The following excerpt from the Memoirs of the Duchesse d'Abrantes, vol. i. p. 250, illustrates the friction between the parties:

   "Junot accompanied Madame Bonaparte when she went to meet the General-in-Chief in Italy. I'm surprised that M. de Bourrienne didn't mention this detail in his Memoirs. He must have known about it since he was well-informed about everything concerning Josephine, and was aware of many important events in her life during this time and afterwards. Why does he also fail to mention Mademoiselle Louise, who could be considered more of her 'companion' than her 'maid'? At the beginning of the trip to Italy, she was such a favorite of Josephine's that she dressed like her, dined with her, and was in every way her friend and confidante.

   "The journey was long, much too long for Junot, even though he was very much in love with Mademoiselle Louise. But he was eager to join the army, as his General was always his greatest love. Junot often shared with me, and me alone, the frustrations he faced during this trip. He could have included in his detailed accounts related to Josephine the conversation he reportedly had with Bonaparte in Egypt, but he never mentioned it because he was always noble and generous. The trip to Italy did not create the usual effect that such events in everyday life often do—a deeper friendship and closeness between the parties. Instead, Madame Bonaparte started to show some annoyance towards Junot and complained passionately about the lack of respect he had shown her by flirting with her 'maid' right in front of her.

   According to 'Erreurs (tome i. pp. 4, 50), Junot was not in Syria at that time. On February 10th, Napoleon was in Messoudiah. Junot only arrived from Egypt in Gaza on February 25th. Madame d'Abrantes (ii. 32) considers this conversation to be apocryphal. "This (an anecdote of her own) is not an imaginary episode like that, for instance, of having someone speak at Messoudiah who was never there."]—







      Our little army continued its march on El-Arish, where we arrived on the
      17th of February. The fatigues experienced in the desert and the scarcity
      of water excited violent murmurs amongst the soldiers during their march
      across the isthmus. When any person on horseback passed them they
      studiously expressed their discontent. The advantage possessed by the
      horsemen provoked their sarcasms. I never heard the verses which they are
      said to have repeated, but they indulged in the most violent language
      against the Republic, the men of science, and those whom they regarded as
      the authors of the expedition. Nevertheless these brave fellows, from whom
      it was not astonishing that such great privations should extort
      complaints, often compensated by their pleasantries for the bitterness of
      their reproaches.
    
Our small army continued its march to El-Arish, arriving on February 17th. The exhaustion from the desert and the lack of water stirred up strong complaints among the soldiers as they crossed the isthmus. Whenever someone on horseback passed by, they openly showed their dissatisfaction. The advantage held by the horsemen sparked their sarcasm. I never heard the verses they allegedly recited, but they used the harshest language against the Republic, intellectuals, and those they blamed for the expedition. Still, these brave soldiers, who understandably expressed complaints due to their hardships, often lightened the mood with their humor to balance out their gripes.







      Many times during the crossing of the isthmus I have seen soldiers,
      parched with thirst, and unable to wait till the hour for distribution of
      water, pierce the leathern bottles which contained it; and this conduct,
      so injurious to all, occasioned numerous quarrels.
    
Many times during the crossing of the isthmus, I have seen soldiers, desperate with thirst and unable to wait for the scheduled water distribution, stab the leather bottles that held it; this behavior, harmful to everyone, led to many arguments.







      El-Arish surrendered on the 17th of February. It has been erroneously
      stated that the garrison of this insignificant place, which was set at
      liberty on condition of not again serving against us, was afterwards found
      amongst the besieged at Jaffa. It has also been stated that it was because
      the men composing the El-Arish garrison did not proceed to Bagdad,
      according to the capitulation, that we shot them at Jaffa. We shall
      presently see the falsehood of these assertions.
    
El-Arish surrendered on February 17th. It's been mistakenly claimed that the soldiers from this unimportant location, who were released on the condition of not fighting against us again, were later found among those besieged at Jaffa. It's also been said that we executed the members of the El-Arish garrison at Jaffa because they didn't go to Baghdad as per the agreement. We'll soon uncover the untruth of these claims.







      On the 28th of February we obtained the first glimpse of the green and
      fertile plains of Syria, which, in many respects, reminded us of the
      climate and soil of Europe. We now had rain, and sometimes rather too
      much. The feelings which the sight of the valleys and mountains called
      forth made us, in some degree, forget the hardships and vexations of an
      expedition of which few persons could foresee the object or end. There are
      situations in life when the slightest agreeable sensation alleviates all
      our ills.
    
On February 28th, we got our first look at the green and fertile plains of Syria, which reminded us in many ways of the climate and soil of Europe. We encountered rain, sometimes a bit too much. The feelings stirred by the sight of the valleys and mountains helped us forget, at least for a while, the hardships and frustrations of an expedition whose purpose or outcome few could predict. There are moments in life when even the smallest pleasant experience makes all our troubles feel lighter.







      On the 1st of March we slept at Ramleh, in a small convent occupied by two
      monks, who paid us the greatest attention. They gave us the church for a
      hospital. These good fathers did not fail to tell us that it was through
      this place the family of Jesus Christ passed into Egypt, and showed us the
      wells at which they quenched their thirst.
    
On March 1st, we stayed overnight in Ramleh at a small convent run by two monks, who were very attentive to us. They offered us the church as a makeshift hospital. These kind fathers told us that this was the route the family of Jesus Christ took when they traveled into Egypt and showed us the wells where they drank water.






 —[Ramleh, the ancient Arimathea, is situated at the base of a chain
   of mountains, the eastern extremity of which is washed by the
   Persian Gulf, and the western by the Mediterranean.—Bourrienne.]— 
 —[Ramleh, the old Arimathea, is located at the foot of a series of mountains, the eastern end of which is bordered by the Persian Gulf, and the western end by the Mediterranean.—Bourrienne.]—







      The pure and cool water of these wells delighted us.
    
The clear and refreshing water from these wells thrilled us.







      We were not more than about six leagues from Jerusalem.
    
We were about six leagues away from Jerusalem.







      I asked the General whether he did not intend to direct his march by the
      way of that city, so celebrated in many respects. He replied, "Oh no!
      Jerusalem is not in my line of operations. I do not wish to be annoyed by
      mountaineers in difficult roads. And, besides, on the other side of the
      mountain I should be assailed by swarms of cavalry. I am not ambitious of
      the fate of Cassius."
    
I asked the General if he was planning to take his march through that city, which is famous for many reasons. He replied, "Oh no! Jerusalem isn’t part of my plans. I don’t want to deal with those mountain people in tough terrain. Plus, on the other side of the mountain, I’d be attacked by hordes of cavalry. I’m not looking for the same fate as Cassius."







      We therefore did not enter Jerusalem, which was not disturbed by the war.
      All we did was to send a written declaration to the persons in power at
      Jerusalem, assuring them that we had no design against that country, and
      only wished them to remain at peace. To this communication no answer was
      returned, and nothing more passed on the subject.
    
We didn't go into Jerusalem, which had not been affected by the war. All we did was send a written statement to the authorities in Jerusalem, assuring them that we had no intentions against their country and just wanted them to stay at peace. There was no response to this message, and nothing more was discussed on the matter.






 —[Sir Walter Scott says, speaking of Bonaparte, that he believes
   that little officer of artillery dreamed of being King of Jerusalem.
   What I have just stated proves that he never thought of such a
   thing. The "little officer of artillery" had a far more splendid
   dream in his head.—Bourrienne.]— 
—[Sir Walter Scott mentions that, when talking about Bonaparte, he believes that the small artillery officer dreamed of becoming King of Jerusalem. What I just said shows that he never considered such a thing. The "small artillery officer" had much grander ambitions in mind.—Bourrienne.]—







      We found at Ramleh between two and three hundred Christians in a pitiable
      state of servitude, misery, and dejection. On conversing with them I could
      not help admiring how much the hope of future rewards may console men
      under present ills. But I learned from many of them that they did not live
      in harmony together. The feelings of hatred and jealousy are not less
      common amongst these people than amongst the better-instructed inhabitants
      of rich and populous cities.
    
We discovered between two and three hundred Christians in Ramleh living in a terrible state of enslavement, suffering, and despair. In talking to them, I couldn't help but admire how much the hope for future rewards can comfort people in the face of current hardships. However, I learned from many of them that they didn't get along well. Feelings of hatred and jealousy are just as common among these individuals as they are among the more educated residents of wealthy and populous cities.








 


 




















      CHAPTER XVIII
    



      1799.
    
1799.


   Arrival at Jaffa—The siege—Beauharnais and Croisier—Four thousand
   prisoners—Scarcity of provisions—Councils of war—Dreadful
   necessity—The massacre—The plague—Lannes and the mountaineers—
   Barbarity of Djezarr—Arrival at St Jean d'Acre, and abortive
   attacks—Sir Sidney Smith—Death of Caffarelli—Duroc wounded—
   Rash bathing—Insurrections in Egypt.

Arrival at Jaffa—The siege—Beauharnais and Croisier—Four thousand prisoners—Shortage of supplies—War councils—Terrible necessity—The massacre—The plague—Lannes and the mountaineers—Brutality of Djezarr—Arrival at St Jean d'Acre, and failed attacks—Sir Sidney Smith—Death of Caffarelli—Duroc wounded—Careless bathing—Uprisings in Egypt.







      On arriving before Jaffa, where there were already some troops, the first
      person I met was Adjutant-General Gresieux, with whom I was well
      acquainted. I wished him good-day, and offered him my hand. "Good God!
      what are you about?" said he, repulsing me with a very abrupt gesture;
      "you may have the plague. People do not touch each other here!" I
      mentioned the circumstance to Bonaparte, who said, "If he be afraid of the
      plague, he will die of it." Shortly after, at St. Jean d'Acre, he was
      attacked by that malady, and soon sank under it.
    
Upon arriving in Jaffa, where some troops were already stationed, the first person I encountered was Adjutant-General Gresieux, someone I knew well. I greeted him and offered my hand. "Good God! What are you doing?" he replied, pushing me away with a sudden gesture; "you might have the plague. People don't touch each other here!" I shared this incident with Bonaparte, who said, "If he's afraid of the plague, he'll end up dying from it." Shortly after, in St. Jean d'Acre, he fell ill with that disease and quickly succumbed.







      On the 4th of March we commenced the siege of Jaffa. That paltry place,
      which, to round a sentence, was pompously styled the ancient Joppa, held
      out only to the 6th of March, when it was taken by storm, and given up to
      pillage. The massacre was horrible. General Bonaparte sent his aides de
      camp Beauharnais and Croisier to appease the fury of the soldiers as much
      as possible, and to report to him what was passing. They learned that a
      considerable part of the garrison had retired into some vast buildings, a
      sort of caravanserai, which formed a large enclosed court. Beauharnais and
      Croisier, who were distinguished by wearing the 'aide de camp' scarf on
      their arms, proceeded to that place. The Arnauts and Albanians, of whom
      these refugees were almost entirely composed, cried from the windows that
      they were willing to surrender upon an assurance that they would be
      exempted from the massacre to which the town was doomed; if not, they
      threatened to fire on the 'aides de camp', and to defend themselves to the
      last extremity. The two officers thought that they ought to accede to the
      proposition, notwithstanding the decree of death which had been pronounced
      against the whole garrison, in consequence of the town being taken by
      storm. They brought them to our camp in two divisions, one consisting of
      about 2500 men, the other of about 1600.
    
On March 4th, we started the siege of Jaffa. That insignificant place, which was grandly referred to as the ancient Joppa, held out only until March 6th, when it was captured in a violent assault and given over to plunder. The massacre was horrifying. General Bonaparte sent his aides-de-camp, Beauharnais and Croisier, to try to calm the soldiers’ rage as much as possible and to report back on what was happening. They found out that a significant portion of the garrison had retreated into large buildings, a sort of caravanserai, that formed a big enclosed courtyard. Beauharnais and Croisier, recognized by the 'aide de camp' scarf on their arms, went to that location. The Arnauts and Albanians, who mostly made up these refugees, shouted from the windows that they were willing to surrender if they were guaranteed safety from the massacre that awaited the town; otherwise, they threatened to shoot at the aides-de-camp and defend themselves to the end. The two officers felt they should accept the offer, despite the death sentence that had been declared against the entire garrison due to the town being taken by storm. They brought them to our camp in two groups, one with about 2,500 men and the other with around 1,600.







      I was walking with General Bonaparte, in front of his tent, when he beheld
      this mass of men approaching, and before he even saw his 'aides de camp'
      he said to me, in a tone of profound sorrow, "What do they wish me to do
      with these men? Have I food for them?—ships to convey them to Egypt
      or France? Why, in the devil's name, have they served me thus?" After
      their arrival, and the explanations which the General-in-Chief demanded
      and listened to with anger, Eugène and Croisier received the most severe
      reprimand for their conduct. But the deed was done. Four thousand men were
      there. It was necessary to decide upon their fate. The two aides de camp
      observed that they had found themselves alone in the midst of numerous
      enemies, and that he had directed them to restrain the carnage. "Yes,
      doubtless," replied the General-in-Chief, with great warmth, "as to women,
      children, and old men—all the peaceable inhabitants; but not with
      respect to armed soldiers. It was your duty to die rather than bring these
      unfortunate creatures to me. What do you want me to do with them?" These
      words were pronounced in the most angry tone.
    
I was walking with General Bonaparte in front of his tent when he noticed a large group of men approaching. Before he even saw his aides, he said to me, with a deep sadness in his voice, "What do they want me to do with these men? Do I have food for them? Ships to take them to Egypt or France? Why on earth have they done this to me?" After they arrived, the General-in-Chief demanded explanations, listening with anger. Eugène and Croisier faced severe reprimands for their actions. But the damage was done. Four thousand men were there, and we had to decide their fate. The two aides noticed they had found themselves alone surrounded by many enemies, and he had instructed them to prevent the slaughter. "Yes, of course," responded the General-in-Chief, very heatedly, "for women, children, and old men—all the peaceful inhabitants; but not for armed soldiers. You should have fought to the death rather than bring these poor souls to me. What do you want me to do with them?" He said these words in a very angry tone.







      The prisoners were then ordered to sit down, and were placed, without any
      order, in front of the tents, their hands tied behind their backs. A
      sombre determination was depicted on their countenances. We gave them a
      little biscuit and bread, squeezed out of the already scanty supply for
      the army.
    
The prisoners were then told to sit down and were put, without any order, in front of the tents, their hands tied behind their backs. A grim determination showed on their faces. We gave them a small biscuit and some bread, taken from the already limited supply for the army.







      On the first day of their arrival a council of war was held in the tent of
      the General-in-Chief, to determine what course should be pursued with
      respect to them. The council deliberated a long time without coming to any
      decision.
    
On the first day after they arrived, a war council met in the General-in-Chief's tent to decide how to handle the situation. The council debated for a long time without reaching any decision.







      On the evening of the following day the daily reports of the generals of
      division came in. They spoke of nothing but the insufficiency of the
      rations, the complaints of the soldiers—of their murmurs and
      discontent at seeing their bread given to enemies who had been withdrawn
      from their vengeance, inasmuch as a decree of death, in conformity with
      the laws of war, had been passed on Jaffa. All these reports were
      alarming, and especially that of General Bon, in which no reserve was
      made. He spoke of nothing less than the fear of a revolt, which would be
      justified by the serious nature of the case.
    
On the evening of the next day, the daily reports from the division generals came in. They mentioned nothing but the shortage of supplies, the soldiers' complaints—about their grumbling and frustration at seeing their food given to enemies who had been spared from their anger, since a death sentence, according to the laws of war, had been issued in Jaffa. All these reports were concerning, especially General Bon's, which held nothing back. He talked about the real fear of a revolt, which would be understandable given the seriousness of the situation.







      The council assembled again. All the generals of division were summoned to
      attend, and for several hours together they discussed, under separate
      questions, what measures might be adopted, with the most sincere desire to
      discover and execute one which would save the lives of these unfortunate
      prisoners.
    
The council gathered again. All the division generals were called to attend, and for several hours, they discussed, under separate topics, what actions could be taken, genuinely hoping to identify and implement a plan that would save the lives of these unfortunate prisoners.







      (1.) Should they be sent into Egypt? Could it be done?
    
(1.) Should they go to Egypt? Is that even possible?







      To do so, it would be necessary to send with them a numerous escort, which
      would too much weaken our little army in the enemy's country. How,
      besides, could they and the escort be supported till they reached Cairo,
      having no provisions to give them on setting out, and their route being
      through a hostile territory, which we had exhausted, which presented no
      fresh resources, and through which we, perhaps, might have to return.
    
To make this happen, we would need to send a large escort with them, which would overly weaken our small army in enemy territory. Also, how could they and the escort be supported until they got to Cairo, given that they would have no supplies at the start and their journey would go through hostile land that we've already drained of resources and might need to pass through again on the way back?







      (2.) Should they be embarked?
    
Should they be onboarded?







      Where were the ships?—Where could they be found? All our telescopes,
      directed over the sea, could not descry a single friendly sail. Bonaparte,
      I affirm, would have regarded such an event as a real favour of fortune.
      It was, and—I am glad to have to say it, this sole idea, this sole
      hope, which made him brave, for three days, the murmurs of his army. But
      in vain was help looked for seaward. It did not come.
    
Where were the ships?—Where could they be? All our telescopes, aimed out at sea, couldn’t spot a single friendly sail. I truly believe Bonaparte would have seen such an event as a real stroke of luck. It was this one thought, this one hope, that gave him the courage to endure the complaints of his army for three days. But help was futilely sought from the sea. It never arrived.







      (3.) Should the prisoners be set at liberty?
    
(3.) Should the prisoners be released?







      They would then instantly proceed to St. Jean d'Acre to reinforce the
      pasha, or else, throwing themselves into the mountains of Nablous, would
      greatly annoy our rear and right-flank, and deal out death to us, as a
      recompense for the life we had given them. There could be no doubt of
      this. What is a Christian dog to a Turk? It would even have been a
      religious and meritorious act in the eye of the Prophet.
    
They would immediately head to St. Jean d'Acre to support the pasha, or if not, they would retreat into the mountains of Nablous, making things difficult for our rear and right flank, and causing us harm as payback for the lives we had spared them. There was no doubt about it. What is a Christian to a Turk? In the eyes of the Prophet, it would even be seen as a religious and commendable act.







      (4.) Could they be incorporated, disarmed, with our soldiers in the ranks?
    
(4.) Could they be integrated and disarmed alongside our soldiers in the ranks?







      Here again the question of food presented itself in all its force. Next
      came to be considered the danger of having such comrades while marching
      through an enemy's country. What might happen in the event of a battle
      before St. Jean d'Acre? Could we even tell what might occur during the
      march? And, finally, what must be done with them when under the ramparts
      of that town, if we should be able to take them there? The same
      embarrassments with respect to the questions of provisions and security
      would then recur with increased force.
    
Once again, the issue of food came up strongly. Next, we had to think about the risk of having such companions while traveling through enemy territory. What could happen if we faced a battle before St. Jean d'Acre? Could we even predict what might take place during the march? And finally, what should we do with them when we reach the walls of that town, if we manage to get them there? The same concerns about supplies and safety would resurface with even greater urgency.







      The third day arrived without its being possible, anxiously as it was
      desired, to come to any conclusion favourable to the preservation of these
      unfortunate men. The murmurs in the camp grew louder—the evil went
      on increasing—remedy appeared impossible—the danger was real
      and imminent. The order for shooting the prisoners was given and executed
      on the 10th of March. We did not, as has been stated, separate the
      Egyptians from the other prisoners. There were no Egyptians.
    
The third day came, and despite everyone's anxious hopes, we still couldn't come to any conclusion that would save these unfortunate men. The murmurs in the camp grew louder—the situation continued to worsen—remedies seemed impossible—the danger was real and immediate. The order to execute the prisoners was given and carried out on March 10th. Contrary to what has been said, we did not separate the Egyptians from the other prisoners. There were no Egyptians.







      Many of the unfortunate creatures composing the smaller division, which
      was fired on close to the seacoast, at some distance from the other
      column, succeeded in swimming to some reefs of rocks out of the reach of
      musket-shot. The soldiers rested their muskets on the sand, and, to induce
      the prisoners to return, employed the Egyptian signs of reconciliation in
      use in the country. They came back; but as they advanced they were killed,
      and disappeared among the waves.
    
Many of the unfortunate beings in the smaller group, which was shot at near the coast, not far from the other column, managed to swim to some rocky reefs out of musket range. The soldiers laid their muskets down on the sand and tried to persuade the prisoners to return using the Egyptian signs of peace commonly used in the area. They came back; but as they got closer, they were shot and vanished into the waves.







      I confine myself to these details of this act of dreadful necessity, of
      which I was an eye-witness. Others, who, like myself, saw it, have
      fortunately spared me the recital of the sanguinary result. This atrocious
      scene, when I think of it, still makes me shudder, as it did on the day I
      beheld it; and I would wish it were possible for me to forget it, rather
      than be compelled to describe it. All the horrors imagination can
      conceive, relative to that day of blood, would fall short of the reality.
    
I limit myself to these details of this terrible necessity, of which I was a witness. Others, who like me saw it, have thankfully spared me from recounting the bloody outcome. This horrific scene still makes me shudder when I think about it, just as it did on the day I witnessed it; I wish I could forget it instead of being forced to describe it. All the horrors that imagination can come up with about that day of blood would fall short of the reality.







      I have related the truth, the whole truth. I was present at all the
      discussions, all the conferences, all the deliberations. I had not, as may
      be supposed, a deliberative voice; but I am bound to declare that the
      situation of the army, the scarcity of food, our small numerical strength,
      in the midst of a country where every individual was an enemy, would have
      induced me to vote in the affirmative of the proposition which was carried
      into effect, if I had a vote to give. It was necessary to be on the spot
      in order to understand the horrible necessity which existed.
    
I’ve shared the truth, the whole truth. I was there for all the discussions, all the meetings, all the debates. I didn’t have a say in the decisions, but I have to say that the army's situation, the lack of food, our small numbers, surrounded by a country where everyone was against us, would have made me support the decision that was ultimately made if I had a vote. You really had to be there to grasp the terrible necessity we faced.







      War, unfortunately, presents too many occasions on which a law, immutable
      in all ages, and common to all nations, requires that private interests
      should be sacrificed to a great general interest, and that even humanity
      should be forgotten. It is for posterity to judge whether this terrible
      situation was that in which Bonaparte was placed. For my own part, I have
      a perfect conviction that he could not do otherwise than yield to the dire
      necessity of the case. It was the advice of the council, whose opinion was
      unanimous in favour of the execution, that governed him. Indeed I ought in
      truth to say, that he yielded only in the last extremity, and was one of
      those, perhaps, who beheld the massacre with the deepest pain.
    
War, unfortunately, creates too many situations where a law, unchanging through time and shared by all nations, demands that personal interests be sacrificed for the greater good, and that even human compassion be set aside. It’s up to future generations to judge whether this was the dire situation Bonaparte found himself in. Personally, I am completely convinced that he had no choice but to surrender to the harsh necessity of the moment. It was the council's advice, which was unanimously in favor of the execution, that guided his decision. In fact, I must honestly say that he only conceded in the most desperate circumstances and was likely among those who witnessed the massacre with the greatest sorrow.







      After the siege of Jaffa the plague began to exhibit itself with a little
      more virulence. We lost between seven and eight hundred, men by the
      contagion during the campaign of Syria.
    
After the siege of Jaffa, the plague started to show itself with a bit more severity. We lost about seven to eight hundred men to the disease during the campaign in Syria.






 —[Sir Walter Scott says, that Heaven sent this pestilence amongst
   us to avenge the massacre of Jaffa]— 
 —[Sir Walter Scott says that Heaven sent this plague among us to avenge the massacre of Jaffa]—







      During our march on St. Jean d'Acre, which was commenced on the 14th of
      March, the army neither obtained the brilliant triumphs nor encountered
      the numerous obstacles spoken of in certain works. Nothing of importance
      occurred but a rash skirmish of General Lannes who, in spite of contrary
      orders from Bonaparte, obstinately pursued a troop of mountaineers into
      the passes of Nablous. On returning, he found the mountaineers placed in
      ambush in great numbers amongst rocks, the windings of which they were
      well acquainted with, whence they fired close upon our troops, whose
      situation rendered them unable to defend themselves. During the time of
      this foolish and useless enterprise, especially while the firing was
      brisk, Bonaparte exhibited much impatience, and it must be confessed, his
      anger was but natural. The Nablousians halted at the openings of the
      mountain defiles. Bonaparte reproached Lannes bitterly for having
      uselessly exposed himself, and "sacrificed, without any object, a number
      of brave men." Lannes excused himself by saying that the mountaineers had
      defied him, and he wished to chastise the rabble. "We are not in a
      condition to play the swaggerer," replied Napoleon.
    
During our march to St. Jean d'Acre, which started on March 14th, the army didn’t achieve the expected victories nor face the many challenges mentioned in some reports. Nothing significant happened except for a reckless skirmish by General Lannes, who, despite Bonaparte's orders to the contrary, stubbornly chased a group of mountain fighters into the Nablous passes. When he returned, he discovered the mountain fighters had set up an ambush in large numbers among the rocks, which they knew well, and they opened fire on our troops, who were unable to defend themselves. Throughout this foolish and pointless venture, especially while the shooting was intense, Bonaparte showed a lot of impatience, and it's fair to say his anger was understandable. The people of Nablous waited at the mountain pass openings. Bonaparte criticized Lannes harshly for exposing himself unnecessarily and "sacrificing, without any purpose, many brave men." Lannes defended his actions by saying the mountain fighters had challenged him, and he wanted to punish them. "We are not in a position to act tough," Napoleon replied.







      In four days we arrived before St. Jean d'Acre, where we learned that
      Djezzar had cut off the head of our envoy, Mailly-de-Chateau-Renaud, and
      thrown his body into the sea in a sack. This cruel pasha was guilty of a
      great number of similar executions. The waves frequently drove dead bodies
      towards the coast, and we came upon them whilst bathing.
    
In four days we reached St. Jean d'Acre, where we found out that Djezzar had beheaded our envoy, Mailly-de-Chateau-Renaud, and dumped his body into the sea in a sack. This cruel pasha had committed many similar executions. The waves often washed dead bodies ashore, and we would come across them while swimming.







      The details of the siege of Acre are well known. Although surrounded by a
      wall, flanked with strong towers, and having, besides, a broad and deep
      ditch defended by works this little fortress did not appear likely to hold
      out against French valour and the skill of our corps of engineers and
      artillery; but the ease and rapidity with which Jaffa had been taken
      occasioned us to overlook in some degree the comparative strength of the
      two places, and the difference of their respective situations. At Jaffa we
      had sufficient artillery: at St. Jean d'Acre we had not. At Jaffa we had
      to deal only with a garrison left to itself: at St. Jean d'Acre we were
      opposed by a garrison strengthened by reinforcements of men and supplies
      of provisions, supported by the English fleet, and assisted by European
      Science. Sir Sidney Smith was, beyond doubt, the man who did us the
      greatest injury.
    
The details of the siege of Acre are well known. Even though it was surrounded by a wall, had strong towers, and boasted a broad and deep ditch with defensive works, this small fortress didn’t seem likely to withstand the bravery of the French and the expertise of our engineering and artillery corps. However, the quick and easy capture of Jaffa made us underestimate the relative strength of the two locations and the differences in their situations. At Jaffa, we had enough artillery; at St. Jean d'Acre, we did not. At Jaffa, we were only dealing with a garrison left to defend itself; at St. Jean d'Acre, we faced a garrison bolstered by reinforcements of troops and supplies, backed by the English fleet, and aided by European expertise. Sir Sidney Smith was, without a doubt, the person who caused us the most damage.






 —[Sir Sidney Smith was the only Englishman besides the Duke of
   Wellington who defeated Napoleon in military operations. The third
   Englishman opposed to him, Sir John Moore, was compelled to make a
   precipitate retreat through the weakness of his force]— 
 —[Sir Sidney Smith was the only Englishman other than the Duke of Wellington who defeated Napoleon in military operations. The third Englishman fighting against him, Sir John Moore, had to make a hasty retreat due to his force's weakness]—  







      Much has been said respecting his communications with the
      General-in-Chief. The reproaches which the latter cast upon him for
      endeavouring to seduce the soldiers and officers of the army by tempting
      offers were the more singular, even if they were well founded, inasmuch as
      these means are frequently employed by leaders in war.
    
A lot has been said about his communications with the General-in-Chief. The criticisms directed at him for trying to lure soldiers and officers of the army with tempting offers were particularly unusual, even if they had some basis, since these tactics are often used by leaders in wartime.






 —[At one time the French General was so disturbed by them as to
   endeavour to put a stop to them; which object he effected by
   interdicting all communication with the English, and signifying, in
   an order of the day, that their Commodore was a madman. This, being
   believed in the army, so enraged Sir Sidney Smith, that in his wrath
   he sent a challenge to Napoleon. The latter replied, that he had
   too many weighty affairs on his hands to trouble himself in so
   trifling a matter. Had it, indeed, been the great Marlborough, it
   might have been worthy his attention. Still, if the English sailor
   was absolutely bent upon fighting, he would send him a bravo from
   the army, and show them a small portion of neutral ground, where the
   mad Commodore might land, and satisfy his humour to the full.—
   (Editor of 1836 edition.)]— 
 —[At one point, the French General was so disturbed by them that he tried to put a stop to it; he did this by banning all communication with the English and stating in an order of the day that their Commodore was insane. This was believed by the army, and it infuriated Sir Sidney Smith so much that he angrily sent a challenge to Napoleon. The latter responded that he had too many serious matters to deal with to concern himself with such a trivial issue. If it had been the great Marlborough, it might have been worth his attention. Nevertheless, if the English sailor was really intent on fighting, he would send him a skilled fighter from the army and show them a small piece of neutral ground where the mad Commodore could land and fully satisfy his whims.— (Editor of 1836 edition.)]—  







      As to the embarking of French prisoners on board a vessel in which the
      plague existed, the improbability of the circumstance alone, but
      especially the notorious facts of the case, repel this odious accusation.
      I observed the conduct of Sir Sidney Smith closely at the time, and I
      remarked in him a chivalric spirit, which sometimes hurried him into
      trifling eccentricities; but I affirm that his behaviour towards the
      French was that of a gallant enemy. I have seen many letters, in which the
      writers informed him that they "were very sensible of the good treatment
      which the French experienced when they fell into his hands." Let any one
      examine Sir Sidney's conduct before the capitulation of El-Arish, and
      after its rupture, and then they can judge of his character.
    
As for the French prisoners being put on a ship that had the plague, the unlikelihood of that situation alone, especially considering the well-known facts of the case, dispels this horrible accusation. I closely observed Sir Sidney Smith at that time, and I noticed a chivalrous spirit in him that occasionally led him to minor quirks; however, I can confidently say that his treatment of the French was that of a noble adversary. I’ve seen many letters from people expressing how much they appreciated the good treatment the French received when they were in his custody. Anyone can look at Sir Sidney’s actions before the surrender of El-Arish and after its breakdown, and then they can judge his character.






 —[Napoleon, when at St. Helena, in speaking of the siege of Acre,
   said,—Sidney Smith is a brave officer. He displayed considerable
   ability in the treaty for the evacuation of Egypt by the French. He
   took advantage of the discontent which he found to prevail amongst
   the French troops at being so long away from France, and other
   circumstances. He manifested great honour in sending immediately to
   Kléber the refusal of Lord Keith to ratify the treaty, which saved
   the French army; if he had kept it a secret seven or eight days
   longer, Cairo would have been given up to the Turks, and the French
   army necessarily obliged to surrender to the English. He also
   showed great humanity and honour in all his proceedings towards the
   French who felt into his hands. He landed at Havre, for some
   'sottise' of a bet he had made, according to some, to go to the
   theatre; others said it was for espionage; however that may be, he
   was arrested and confined in the Temple as a spy; and at one time it
   was intended to try and execute him. Shortly after I returned from
   Italy he wrote to me from his prison, to request that I would
   intercede for him; but, under the circumstances in which he was
   taken, I could do nothing for him. He is active, intelligent,
   intriguing, and indefatigable; but I believe that he is 'mezzo
   pazo'.

   "The chief cause of the failure at Acre was, that he took all my
   battering train, which was on board of several small vessels.
   Had it not been for that, I would have taken Acre in spite of him.
   He behaved very bravely, and was well seconded by Phillipeaux, a
   Frenchman of talent, who had studied with me as an engineer. There
   was a Major Douglas also, who behaved very gallantly. The
   acquisition of five or six hundred seamen as gunners was a great
   advantage to the Turks, whose spirits they revived, and whom they
   showed how to defend the fortress. But he committed a great fault
   in making sorties, which cost the lives of two or three hundred
   brave fellows without the possibility of success. For it was
   impossible he could succeed against the number of the French who
   were before Acre. I would lay a wage that he lost half of his crew
   in them. He dispersed Proclamations amongst my troops, which
   certainly shook some of them, and I in consequence published an
   order, stating that he was mad, and forbidding all communication
   with him. Some days after he sent, by means of a flag of truce,
   a lieutenant or a midshipman with a letter containing a challenge to
   me to meet him at some place he pointed out in order to fight a
   duel. I laughed at this, and sent him back an intimation that when
   he brought Marlborough to fight me I would meet him. Notwithstanding
   this, I like the character of the man." (Voices from
   St. Helena, vol. 4, p. 208).]— 
 —[Napoleon, while at St. Helena, mentioned the siege of Acre, saying, "Sidney Smith is a courageous officer. He showed significant skill in negotiating the treaty for the French evacuation from Egypt. He took advantage of the dissatisfaction among the French troops from being away from France for so long, along with other factors. He demonstrated great integrity by immediately informing Kléber of Lord Keith's refusal to ratify the treaty, which ultimately saved the French army; if he had kept it a secret for seven or eight more days, Cairo would have been surrendered to the Turks, forcing the French army to capitulate to the British. He also showed remarkable humanity and honor in all his dealings with the French troops who fell into his hands. He arrived in Havre, reportedly due to a bet related to going to the theater, according to some, while others said it was for spying; regardless, he was arrested and detained in the Temple as a spy, and at one point, there were plans to try and execute him. Shortly after I returned from Italy, he wrote to me from prison, asking me to intercede on his behalf; however, given the circumstances of his capture, I couldn't do anything for him. He is active, clever, scheming, and tireless, but I believe he is 'half-crazy.'

   "The main reason for the failure at Acre was that he took all my artillery, which was on several small ships. If it hadn't been for that, I would have captured Acre despite him. He fought bravely and was well supported by Phillipeaux, a talented French engineer who studied with me. There was also Major Douglas, who acted very gallantly. The addition of five or six hundred sailors as gunners significantly boosted the Turks, lifting their spirits and showing them how to defend the fortress. However, he made a significant mistake by launching attacks that cost the lives of two or three hundred valiant men without any chance of success. It was impossible for him to succeed against the French forces at the front of Acre. I would bet that he lost half of his crew during those sorties. He spread proclamations among my troops, which definitely unsettled some of them, prompting me to issue an order declaring him mad and prohibiting any communication with him. A few days later, he sent a lieutenant or a midshipman with a letter via a flag of truce, challenging me to meet him at a designated place for a duel. I laughed at this and responded that I would meet him only when he brought Marlborough to fight me. Despite this, I admire the character of the man." (Voices from St. Helena, vol. 4, p. 208).]—







      All our manoeuvres, our works, and attacks were made with that levity and
      carelessness which over-confidence inspires. Kléber, whilst walking with
      me one day in the lines of our camp, frequently expressed his surprise and
      discontent. "The trenches," said, he, "do not come up to my knees."
      Besieging artillery was, of necessity, required: we commenced with field
      artillery. This encouraged the besieged, who perceived the weakness of our
      resources. The besieging artillery, consisting only of three twenty-four
      pounders and six eighteen pounders, was not brought up until the end of
      April, and before that period three assaults had taken place with very
      serious loss. On the 4th of May our powder began to fail us. This cruel
      event obliged us to slacken our fire. We also wanted shot; and an order of
      the day fixed a price to be given for all balls, according to their
      calibre, which might be picked up after being fired from the fortress or
      the two ships of the line, the 'Tiger' and 'Theseus', which were stationed
      on each side of the harbour. These two vessels embarrassed the
      communication between the camp and the trenches; but though they made much
      noise, they did little harm. A ball from one of them killed an officer on
      the evening the siege was raised.
    
All our moves, plans, and attacks were carried out with the kind of lightheartedness and disregard that comes from overconfidence. One day, while walking with me through our camp, Kléber often voiced his surprise and frustration. "The trenches," he said, "barely reach my knees." We needed heavy artillery for the siege, so we started with field artillery. This made the defenders feel somewhat secure, as they recognized the weakness of our resources. The siege artillery, which included only three twenty-four pounders and six eighteen pounders, didn’t arrive until the end of April, and before that, we had already launched three assaults with significant losses. By May 4th, we started running low on gunpowder. This unfortunate situation forced us to reduce our fire. We also ran out of cannonballs; an order of the day set a price for all the balls of various calibers that could be retrieved after being fired from the fortress or the two ships, the '







      The enemy had within the walls some excellent riflemen, chiefly Albanians.
      They placed stones, one over the other, on the walls, put their firearms
      through the interstices, and thus, completely sheltered, fired with
      destructive precision.
    
The enemy had some skilled riflemen inside the walls, mainly Albanians. They stacked stones on the walls, slid their firearms through the gaps, and from their sheltered positions, they shot with deadly accuracy.







      On the 9th of April General Caffarelli, so well known for his courage and
      talents, was passing through the trench, his hand resting as he stooped on
      his hip, to preserve the equilibrium which his wooden leg impaired; his
      elbow only was raised above the trench. He was warned that the enemy's
      shot, fired close upon us, did not miss the smallest object. He paid no
      attention to any observation of this kind, and in a few instants his elbow
      joint was fractured. Amputation of the arm was judged indispensable. The
      General survived the operation eighteen days. Bonaparte went regularly
      twice a day to his tent. By his order, added to my friendship for
      Caffarelli, I scarcely ever quitted him. Shortly before he expired he said
      to me, "My dear Bourrienne, be so good as to read to me Voltaire's preface
      to 'Esprit des Lois'." When I returned to the tent of the General-in-Chief
      he asked, "How is Caffarelli?" I replied, "He is near his end; but he
      asked me to read him Voltaire's preface to the 'Esprit de Lois', he has
      just fallen asleep." Bonaparte said, "Bah! to wish to hear that preface?
      how singular!" He went to see Caffarelli, but he was still asleep. I
      returned to him that evening and received his last breath. He died with
      the utmost composure. His death was equally regretted by the soldiers and
      the men of science, who accompanied us. It was a just regret due to that
      distinguished man, in whom very extensive information was united with
      great courage and amiable disposition.
    
On April 9th, General Caffarelli, known for his bravery and skills, was walking through the trench, resting his hand on his hip to maintain his balance since his wooden leg made it difficult. Only his elbow was raised above the trench. He was warned that enemy shots, fired close by, could hit even the smallest targets. He ignored these warnings, and moments later, his elbow joint was fractured. Doctors deemed it necessary to amputate his arm. The General survived the surgery for eighteen days. Bonaparte visited him regularly, going to his tent twice a day. Out of his concern and my friendship for Caffarelli, I rarely left his side. Just before he passed away, he asked me, "My dear Bourrienne, could you please read me Voltaire's preface to 'Esprit des Lois'?" When I returned to the General-in-Chief's tent, he asked, "How is Caffarelli?" I replied, "He is near death, but he asked me to read him Voltaire's preface to 'Esprit des Lois', and he has just fallen asleep." Bonaparte remarked, "Bah! Wanting to hear that preface? How strange!" He went to see Caffarelli, but he was still asleep. I returned that evening and witnessed his last moments. He died peacefully. His death was mourned by both the soldiers and the scholars who accompanied us. It was a true loss for that distinguished man, who combined extensive knowledge with great courage and a pleasant personality.







      On the 10th of May, when an assault took place, Bonaparte proceeded at an
      early hour to the trenches.
    
On May 10th, when an attack happened, Bonaparte went to the trenches early in the morning.






 —[Sir Sidney Smith, in his official report of the assault of the
   8th of May, says that Napoleon was distinctly seen directing the
   operation.]— 
 —[Sir Sidney Smith, in his official report of the assault on May 8th, states that Napoleon was clearly seen directing the operation.]—







      Croisier, who was mentioned on our arrival at Damanhour and on the capture
      of Jaffa, had in vain courted death since the commencement of the siege.
      Life had become insupportable to him since the unfortunate affair at
      Jaffa. He as usual accompanied his General to the trenches. Believing that
      the termination of the siege, which was supposed to be near, would
      postpone indefinitely the death which he sought, he mounted a battery. In
      this situation his tall figure uselessly provoked all the enemy's shots.
      "Croisier, come down, I command you; you have no business there," cried
      Bonaparte, in a loud and imperative tone. Croisier remained without making
      any reply. A moment after a ball passed through his right leg. Amputation
      was not considered indispensable. On the day of our departure he was
      placed on a litter, which was borne by sixteen men alternately, eight at a
      time. I received his farewell between Gaza and El-Arish, where he died of
      tetanus. His modest tomb will not be often visited.
    
Croisier, who was mentioned when we arrived in Damanhour and during the capture of Jaffa, had been seeking death in vain since the siege started. Life had become unbearable for him after the unfortunate events at Jaffa. As usual, he accompanied his General to the trenches. Believing that the end of the siege, which was thought to be near, would delay the death he craved, he climbed onto a battery. In that position, his tall figure unnecessarily drew all the enemy's fire. "Croisier, come down, I command you; you shouldn’t be there," shouted Bonaparte in a loud, authoritative voice. Croisier did not respond. Moments later, a bullet struck his right leg. Amputation was not deemed necessary. On the day we left, he was placed on a litter carried alternately by sixteen men, eight at a time. I received his farewell between Gaza and El-Arish, where he died of tetanus. His unassuming grave won’t see many visitors.







      The siege of St. Jean d'Acre lasted sixty days. During that time eight
      assaults and twelve sorties took place. In the assault of the 8th of May
      more than 200 men penetrated into the town. Victory was already shouted;
      but the breach having been taken in reverse by the Turks, it was not
      approached without some degree of hesitation, and the men who had entered
      were not supported. The streets were barricaded. The cries, the howlings
      of the women, who ran through the streets throwing, according to the
      custom of the country, dust in the air, excited the male inhabitants to a
      desperate resistance, which rendered unavailing this short occupation of
      the town, by a handful of men, who, finding themselves left without
      assistance, retreated towards the breach. Many who could not reach it
      perished in the town.
    
The siege of St. Jean d'Acre lasted for sixty days. During that time, there were eight assaults and twelve sorties. In the assault on May 8th, more than 200 men broke into the town. Victory was already being celebrated; however, since the Turks took back the breach, there was some hesitation in approaching it, and the men who had entered received no support. The streets were barricaded. The screams and wails of the women, who ran through the streets tossing dust into the air as per local custom, spurred the men to a desperate defense, which made this brief occupation by a small group of men ineffective. Those left without help retreated toward the breach. Many who couldn’t get there perished in the town.







      During this assault Duroc, who was in the trench, was wounded in the right
      thigh by the splinter from a shell fired against the fortifications.
      Fortunately this accident only carried away the flesh from the bone, which
      remained untouched. He had a tent in common with several other 'aides de
      camp'; but for his better accommodation I gave him mine, and I scarcely
      ever quitted him. Entering his tent one day about noon, I found him in a
      profound sleep. The excessive heat had compelled him to throw off all
      covering, and part of his wound was exposed. I perceived a scorpion which
      had crawled up the leg of the camp-bed and approached very near to the
      wound. I was just in time to hurl it to the ground. The sudden motion of
      my hand awoke Duroc.
    
During this attack, Duroc, who was in the trench, got injured in his right thigh by a piece of shrapnel from a shell aimed at the fortifications. Fortunately, the injury only stripped the flesh from the bone, which remained unharmed. He shared a tent with several other aides-de-camp, but to make him more comfortable, I gave him my tent, and I hardly ever left his side. One day around noon, I entered his tent and found him in a deep sleep. The intense heat had forced him to remove all his coverings, leaving part of his wound exposed. I noticed a scorpion that had crawled up the leg of the camp bed and was getting very close to the wound. I managed to throw it to the ground just in time. The sudden movement of my hand woke Duroc.







      We often bathed in the sea. Sometimes the English, perhaps after taking a
      double allowance of grog, would fire at our heads, which appeared above
      water. I am not aware that any accident was occasioned by their cannonade;
      but as we were beyond reach of their guns, we paid scarcely any attention
      to the firing. It was seen a subject of amusement to us.
    
We often swam in the ocean. Sometimes the English, maybe after having a couple of drinks, would shoot at our heads that were above water. I’m not aware of any accidents caused by their shooting; but since we were out of range of their cannons, we hardly paid any attention to the firing. It was more of a source of amusement for us.







      Had our attack on St. Jean d'Acre been less precipitate, and had the siege
      been undertaken according to the rules of war, the place would not have
      held out three days; one assault, like that of the 8th of May, would have
      been sufficient. If, in the situation in which we were on the day when we
      first came in sight of the ramparts of Acre; we had made a less
      inconsiderate estimate of the strength of the place; if we had likewise
      taken into consideration the active co-operation of the English and the
      Ottoman Porte, our absolute want of artillery of sufficient calibre, our
      scarcity of gunpowder and the difficulty of procuring food, we certainly
      should not have undertaken the siege; and that would have been by far the
      wisest course.
    
If our attack on St. Jean d'Acre had been less rushed and the siege had followed proper military strategy, the city wouldn't have held out for more than three days; one assault, like the one on May 8th, would have been enough. If, when we first saw the walls of Acre, we had made a more realistic assessment of its strength; if we had considered the active support from the English and the Ottoman Porte, our lack of heavy artillery, our shortage of gunpowder, and the difficulty in obtaining food, we definitely would not have started the siege; and that would have been the smartest decision.







      Towards the end of the siege the General-in-Chief received intelligence of
      some trifling insurrections in northern Egypt. An angel had excited them,
      and the heavenly messenger, who had condescended to assume a name, was
      called the Mahdi, or El Mohdy. This religious extravagance, however, did
      not last long, and tranquillity was soon restored. All that the fanatic
      Mahdi, who shrouded himself in mystery, succeeded in doing was to attack
      our rear by some vagabonds, whose illusions were dissipated by a few
      musket shots.
    
Towards the end of the siege, the General-in-Chief got word of some minor uprisings in northern Egypt. An angel had stirred them up, and the heavenly messenger, who took on a name, was called the Mahdi, or El Mohdy. However, this religious frenzy didn't last long, and peace was quickly restored. All that the fanatic Mahdi, who wrapped himself in mystery, managed to do was launch an attack on our rear with some drifters, whose illusions were shattered by a few musket shots.








 


 




















      CHAPTER XIX.
    



      1799.
    
1799.


   The siege of Acre raised—Attention to names in bulletins—Gigantic
   project—The Druses—Mount Carmel—The wounded and infected—
   Order to march on foot—Loss of our cannon—A Nablousian fires at
   Bonaparte—Return to Jaffa—Bonaparte visits the plague hospital—
   A potion given to the sick—Bonaparte's statement at St. Helena.

   The siege of Acre brought attention to names in bulletins—A huge project—The Druses—Mount Carmel—The injured and infected—Order to march by foot—Loss of our cannons—A person from Nablus fires at Bonaparte—Return to Jaffa—Bonaparte visits the plague hospital—A remedy given to the sick—Bonaparte's statement at St. Helena.







      The siege of St. Jean d'Acre was raised on the 20th of May. It cost us a
      loss of nearly 3000 men, in killed, deaths by the plague, or wounds. A
      great number were wounded mortally. In those veracious documents, the
      bulletins, the French loss was made 500 killed, and 1000 wounded, and the
      enemy's more than 15,000.
    
The siege of St. Jean d'Acre ended on May 20th. It resulted in the loss of nearly 3,000 men, due to deaths in battle, the plague, or injuries. A considerable number were mortally wounded. In those reliable reports, the bulletins, the French loss was stated as 500 killed and 1,000 wounded, while the enemy's loss was over 15,000.







      Our bulletins may form curious materials for history; but their value
      certainly will not depend on the credit due to their details. Bonaparte
      attached the greatest importance to those documents; generally drawing
      them up himself, or correcting them, when written by another hand, if the
      composition did not please him.
    
Our bulletins might be interesting stuff for history, but their worth definitely won’t rely on the credibility of the details. Bonaparte placed a lot of importance on those documents, usually writing them himself or making corrections when someone else wrote them, if the way they were written didn’t satisfy him.







      It must be confessed that at that time nothing so much flattered self-love
      as being mentioned in a bulletin. Bonaparte was well aware of this; he
      knew that to insert a name in a bulletin was conferring a great honour,
      and that its exclusion was a severe disappointment. General Berthier, to
      whom I had expressed a strong desire to examine the works of the siege,
      took me over them; but, notwithstanding his promise of secrecy, he
      mentioned the circumstance to the General-in-Chief, who had desired me not
      to approach the works. "What did you go there for?" said Bonaparte to me,
      with some severity; "that is not your place." I replied that Berthier told
      me that no assault would take place that day; and he believed there would
      be no sortie, as the garrison had made one the preceding evening. "What
      matters that? There might have been another. Those who have nothing to do
      in such places are always the first victims. Let every man mind his own
      business. Wounded or killed, I would not even have noticed you in the
      bulletin. You could have been laughed at, and that justly."
    
I have to admit that back then, nothing boosted self-esteem quite like being mentioned in a bulletin. Bonaparte was fully aware of this; he understood that including a name in a bulletin was a significant honor, while leaving it out could be a huge letdown. General Berthier, to whom I had expressed a strong interest in checking out the siege works, gave me a tour. However, despite his promise of confidentiality, he mentioned this to the General-in-Chief, who had instructed me not to go near the works. "What were you doing there?" Bonaparte asked me sternly; "that's not your place." I responded that Berthier told me no assault would happen that day, and he thought there wouldn't be any sorties since the garrison had launched one the night before. "What difference does that make? There could have been another one. Those who have no business in such places are always the first to get hurt. Everyone should stick to their own jobs. Wounded or killed, I wouldn't have even noticed you in the bulletin. You could have been ridiculed, and rightly so."







      Bonaparte, not having at this time experienced reverses, having
      continually proceeded from triumph to triumph, confidently anticipated the
      taking of St. Jean d'Acre. In his letters to the generals in Egypt he
      fixed the 25th of April for the accomplishment of that event. He reckoned
      that the grand assault against the tower could not be made before that
      day; it took place, however, twenty-four hours sooner. He wrote to Desaix
      on the 19th of April, "I count on being master of Acre in six days." On
      the 2d of May he told Junot, "Our 18 and 24 pounders have arrived. We hope
      to enter Acre in a few days. The fire of their artillery is completely
      extinguished." Letters have been printed, dated 30th Floréal (19th May),
      in which he announces to Dugua and to Poussielque that they can rely on
      his being in Acre on 6th Floréal (25th April). Some mistake has evidently
      been made. "The slightest circumstances produce the greatest events," said
      Napoleon, according to the Memorial of St. Helena; "had St. Jean d'Acre
      fallen, I should have changed the face of the world." And again, "The fate
      of the East lay in that small town." This idea is not one which he first
      began to entertain at St. Helena; he often repeated the very same words at
      St. Jean d'Acre. On the shore of Ptolemes gigantic projects agitated him,
      as, doubtless, regret for not having carried them into execution tormented
      him at St. Helena.
    
Bonaparte, at this time not having faced any setbacks and continuously moving from victory to victory, confidently expected to take St. Jean d'Acre. In his letters to the generals in Egypt, he set the date of April 25th for that event. He believed that the major assault on the tower couldn't happen before that day; however, it actually took place twenty-four hours earlier. He wrote to Desaix on April 19th, "I plan to be in control of Acre in six days." On May 2nd, he told Junot, "Our 18 and 24 pounders have arrived. We hope to enter Acre in a few days. Their artillery fire is completely silent." Letters dated 30th Floréal (May 19th) have been published, in which he informs Dugua and Poussielque that they can count on him being in Acre by 6th Floréal (April 25th). Some mistake has clearly occurred. "The smallest details can lead to the biggest events," said Napoleon, according to the Memorial of St. Helena; "if St. Jean d'Acre had fallen, I would have changed the course of history." And again, "The fate of the East rested in that small town." This wasn't a notion that he first considered at St. Helena; he often repeated the exact same words at St. Jean d'Acre. On the shore of Ptolemy, his ambitious plans stirred him, just as the regret for not having executed them haunted him at St. Helena.







      Almost every evening Bonaparte and myself used to walk together, at a
      little distance from the sea-shore. The day after the unfortunate assault
      of the 8th of May Bonaparte, afflicted at seeing the blood of so many
      brave men uselessly shed, said to me, "Bourrienne, I see that this
      wretched place has cost me a number of men, and wasted much time. But
      things are too far advanced not to attempt a last effort. If I succeed, as
      I expect, I shall find in the town the pasha's treasures, and arms for
      300,000 men. I will stir up and arm the people of Syria, who are disgusted
      at the ferocity of Djezzar, and who, as you know, pray for his destruction
      at every assault. I shall then march upon Damascus and Aleppo. On
      advancing into the country, the discontented will flock round my standard,
      and swell my army. I will announce to the people the abolition of
      servitude and of the tyrannical governments of the pashas. I shall arrive
      at Constantinople with large masses of soldiers. I shall overturn the
      Turkish empire, and found in the East a new and grand empire, which will
      fix my place in the records of posterity. Perhaps I shall return to Paris
      by Adrianople, or by Vienna, after having annihilated the house of
      Austria." After I had made some observations which these grand projects
      naturally suggested, he replied, "What! do you not see that the Druses
      only wait for the fall of Acre to rise in rebellion? Have not the keys of
      Damascus already been offered me? I only stay till these walls fall
      because until then I can derive no advantage from this large town. By the
      operation which I meditate I cut off all kind of succour from the beys,
      and secure the conquest of Egypt. I will have Desaix nominated
      commander-in-chief; but if I do not succeed in the last assault I am about
      to attempt, I set off directly. Time presses,—I shall not be at
      Cairo before the middle of June; the winds will then lie favourable for
      ships bound to Egypt, from the north. Constantinople will send troops to
      Alexandria and Rosetta. I must be there. As for the army, which will
      arrive afterwards by land, I do not fear it this year. I will cause
      everything to be destroyed, all the way to the entrance of the desert. I
      will render the passage of an army impossible for two years. Troops cannot
      exist amoung ruins."
    
Almost every evening, Bonaparte and I used to walk together a little distance from the beach. The day after the unfortunate assault on May 8th, Bonaparte, upset by the sight of so much brave blood wasted, said to me, "Bourrienne, I see that this miserable place has cost me many men and wasted a lot of time. But things have gone too far to not make one last effort. If I succeed, as I expect, I will find the pasha's treasures in the town and arms for 300,000 men. I will rally and arm the people of Syria, who are fed up with Djezzar's brutality, and who, as you know, pray for his downfall during every assault. I will then march on Damascus and Aleppo. When I advance into the countryside, the dissatisfied will gather around my banner and increase my army. I will announce to the people the end of servitude and the oppressive rule of the pashas. I will arrive in Constantinople with a large force of soldiers. I will topple the Turkish empire and establish a new and grand empire in the East, which will secure my place in history. Perhaps I will return to Paris via Adrianople or Vienna, after having wiped out the house of Austria." After I made some comments about these grand plans, he replied, "What! Do you not see that the Druses are just waiting for Acre to fall so they can revolt? Haven't the keys to Damascus already been offered to me? I'm only staying until these walls fall because until then, I can't gain anything from this big town. With the operation I’m planning, I'll cut off all support from the beys and secure the conquest of Egypt. I will have Desaix appointed as commander-in-chief; but if I don't succeed in the last assault I'm about to attempt, I'll leave immediately. Time is of the essence—I won't be in Cairo until the middle of June; by then, the winds will be favorable for ships heading to Egypt from the north. Constantinople will send troops to Alexandria and Rosetta. I need to be there. As for the army that will arrive later by land, I’m not worried about it this year. I will destroy everything all the way to the entrance of the desert. I will make it impossible for an army to pass through for two years. Troops can’t survive among ruins."







      As soon as I returned to my tent I committed to paper this conversation,
      which was then quite fresh in my memory, and, I may venture to say that
      every word I put down is correct. I may add, that during the siege our
      camp was constantly filled with the inhabitants, who invoked Heaven to
      favour our arms, and prayed fervently at every assault for our success,
      many of them on their knees, with their faces to the city. The people of
      Damascus, too, had offered the keys to Bonaparte. Thus everything
      contributed to make him confident in his favourite plan.
    
As soon as I got back to my tent, I wrote down this conversation while it was still fresh in my mind, and I can confidently say that every word I recorded is accurate. I should also mention that during the siege, our camp was constantly filled with locals who were praying for our success and asking for divine help, many of them kneeling with their faces towards the city. The people of Damascus also offered the keys to Bonaparte. So, everything strengthened his confidence in his preferred plan.







      The troops left St. Jean d'Acre on the 20th of May, taking advantage of
      the night to avoid a sortie from the besieged, and to conceal the retreat
      of the army, which had to march three leagues along the shore, exposed to
      the fire of the English vessels lying in the roads of Mount Carmel. The
      removal of the wounded and sick commenced on the 18th and 19th of May.
    
The troops left St. Jean d'Acre on May 20th, using the night to avoid an attack from the besieged and to hide the army's retreat, which had to march three leagues along the shore, exposed to the fire from the English ships anchored in the waters off Mount Carmel. The evacuation of the wounded and sick began on May 18th and 19th.







      Bonaparte then made a proclamation, which from one end to the other
      offends against truth. It has been published in many works. The season of
      the year for hostile landing is there very dexterously placed in the
      foreground; all the rest is a deceitful exaggeration. It must be observed
      that the proclamations which Bonaparte regarded as calculated to dazzle an
      ever too credulous public were amplifications often ridiculous and
      incomprehensible upon the spot, and which only excited the laughter of men
      of common sense. In all Bonaparte's correspondence there is an endeavour
      to disguise his reverses, and impose on the public, and even on his own
      generals. For example, he wrote to General Dugua, commandant of Cairo, on
      the 15th of February, "I will bring you plenty of prisoners and flags!"
      One would almost be inclined to say that he had resolved, during his stay
      in the East, thus to pay a tribute to the country of fables.
    
Bonaparte then issued a proclamation that, from start to finish, is full of falsehoods. It has been printed in many publications. The timing for a military landing is cleverly emphasized, while everything else is a misleading exaggeration. It's important to note that the proclamations Bonaparte believed would impress the overly gullible public were often absurd and confusing at the time, only provoking laughter from sensible people. In all of Bonaparte's communications, there's an effort to cover up his defeats and fool the public, including his own generals. For instance, he wrote to General Dugua, the commander in Cairo, on February 15th, saying, "I’ll bring you plenty of prisoners and flags!" One might almost think he decided, during his time in the East, to pay homage to the land of fables.






 —[The prisoners and flags were sent. The Turkish flags were
   entrusted by Berthier to the Adjutant-Commandant Boyer, who
   conducted a convoy of sick and wounded to Egypt. Sidney Smith
   acknowledges the loss of some flags by the Turks. The Turkish
   prisoners were used as carriers of the litters for the wounded, and
   were, for the most part, brought into Egypt. (Erreurs, tome i. pp.
   47 and 160)]— 
 —[The prisoners and flags were sent. Berthier gave the Turkish flags to Adjutant-Commandant Boyer, who took a group of sick and wounded to Egypt. Sidney Smith noted that the Turks lost some flags. The Turkish prisoners were used to carry litters for the wounded and were mostly taken into Egypt. (Erreurs, tome i. pp. 47 and 160)]— 







      Thus terminated this disastrous expedition. I have read somewhere that
      during this immortal campaign the two heroes Murat and Mourad had often
      been in face of one another. There is only a little difficulty; Mourad Bey
      never put his foot in Syria.
    
Thus ended this disastrous expedition. I've read somewhere that during this legendary campaign, the two heroes Murat and Mourad often confronted each other. There's just one little problem; Mourad Bey never stepped foot in Syria.







      We proceeded along the coast, and passed Mount Carmel. Some of the wounded
      were carried on litters, the remainder on horses, mules, and camels. At a
      short distance from Mount Carmel we were informed that three soldiers, ill
      of the plague, who were left in a convent (which served for a hospital),
      and abandoned too confidently to the generosity of the Turks, had been
      barbarously put to death.
    
We traveled along the coast and passed Mount Carmel. Some of the wounded were carried on stretchers, while the rest were on horses, mules, and camels. Not far from Mount Carmel, we learned that three soldiers, suffering from the plague, had been left in a convent (which also served as a hospital) and had been brutally killed, abandoned too trustingly to the mercy of the Turks.







      A most intolerable thirst, the total want of water, an excessive heat, and
      a fatiguing march over burning sand-hills, quite disheartened the men, and
      made every generous sentiment give way to feelings of the grossest
      selfishness and most shocking indifference. I saw officers, with their
      limbs amputated, thrown off the litters, whose removal in that way had
      been ordered, and who had themselves given money to recompense the
      bearers. I saw the amputated, the wounded, the infected, or those only
      suspected of infection, deserted and left to themselves. The march was
      illumined by torches, lighted for the purpose of setting fire to the
      little towns, villages, and hamlets which lay in the route, and the rich
      crops with which the land was then covered. The whole country was in a
      blaze. Those who were ordered to preside at this work of destruction
      seemed eager to spread desolation on every side, as if they could thereby
      avenge themselves for their reverses, and find in such dreadful havoc an
      alleviation of their sufferings. We were constantly surrounded by
      plunderers, incendiaries, and the dying, who, stretched on the sides of
      the road, implored assistance in a feeble voice, saying, "I am not
      infected—I am only wounded;" and to convince those whom they
      addressed, they reopened their old wounds, or inflicted on themselves
      fresh ones. Still nobody attended to them. "It is all over with him," was
      the observation applied to the unfortunate beings in succession, while
      every one pressed onward. The sun, which shone in an unclouded sky in all
      its brightness, was often darkened by our conflagrations. On our right lay
      the sea; on our left, and behind us, the desert made by ourselves; before
      were the privations and sufferings which awaited us. Such was our true
      situation.
    
An unbearable thirst, a complete lack of water, excessive heat, and a tiring march over burning sand hills completely demoralized the men, causing every noble sentiment to give way to the most selfish and shocking indifference. I saw officers with amputated limbs thrown off the litters, even though they had provided money to compensate the bearers. I saw the amputated, the wounded, the infected, or those merely suspected of infection, deserted and left to fend for themselves. The march was lit by torches set to burn down the small towns, villages, and hamlets along the route, along with the rich crops that covered the land at that time. The entire region was ablaze. Those tasked with overseeing this destruction seemed eager to spread devastation everywhere, as if by doing so they could avenge their losses and find some relief from their own suffering in such dreadful destruction. We were constantly surrounded by looters, arsonists, and the dying, who, lying by the roadside, weakly begged for help, saying, "I'm not infected—I'm just wounded;" and to convince those they addressed, they reopened their old wounds or inflicted new ones on themselves. Yet no one paid them any attention. "He's done for," was the remark made about the unfortunate souls one after another, while everyone pressed on. The sun, shining brightly in a clear sky, was often overshadowed by our fires. On our right lay the sea; on our left and behind us was the desert we had created; and ahead were the privations and sufferings that awaited us. That was our true situation.







      We reached Tentoura on the 20th of May, when a most oppressive heat
      prevailed, and produced general dejection. We had nothing to sleep on but
      the parched and burning sand; on our right lay a hostile sea; our losses
      in wounded and sick were already considerable since leaving Acre; and
      there was nothing consolatory in the future. The truly afflicting
      condition in which the remains of an army called triumphant were plunged,
      produced, as might well be expected, a corresponding impression on the
      mind of the General-in-Chief. Scarcely had he arrived at Tentoura when he
      ordered his tent to be pitched. He then called me, and with a mind
      occupied by the calamities of our situation, dictated an order that every
      one should march on foot; and that all the horses, mules, and camels
      should be given up to the wounded, the sick, and infected who had been
      removed, and who still showed signs of life. "Carry that to Berthier,"
      said he; and the order was instantly despatched. Scarcely had I returned
      to the tent when the elder Vigogne, the General-in-Chief's groom, entered,
      and raising his hand to his cap, said, "General, what horse do you reserve
      for yourself?" In the state of excitement in which Bonaparte was this
      question irritated him so violently that, raising his whip, he gave the
      man a severe blow on the head, saying in a terrible voice, "Every-one must
      go on foot, you rascal—I the first—Do you not know the order?
      Be off!"
    
We arrived at Tentoura on May 20th, when a brutal heat was overwhelming and made everyone feel down. We had nothing to sleep on except the dry, scorching sand; to our right was a hostile sea; our losses from injuries and illness since leaving Acre were already significant, and there was nothing reassuring ahead. The deeply troubling state of the once triumphant army affected the mindset of the General-in-Chief, as you could imagine. As soon as he got to Tentoura, he had his tent set up. He then called me over and, with his mind occupied by the disasters of our situation, issued an order that everyone should march on foot and that all horses, mules, and camels should be surrendered to the wounded, sick, and infected who had been evacuated but still showed signs of life. "Send that to Berthier," he said, and the order was quickly dispatched. I had barely returned to the tent when the elder Vigogne, the General-in-Chief's groom, came in and, raising his hand to his cap, asked, "General, which horse are you keeping for yourself?" In his heightened state of agitation, Bonaparte found this question so infuriating that, raising his whip, he struck the man hard on the head, shouting in a fierce voice, "Everyone must go on foot, you fool—I’ll be the first—Don't you know the order? Get out!"







      Every one in parting with his horse was now anxious to avoid giving it to
      any unfortunate individual supposed to be suffering from plague. Much
      pains were taken to ascertain the nature of the diseases of the sick; and
      no difficulty was made in accommodating the wounded of amputated. For my
      part I had an excellent horse; a mule, and two camels, all which I gave up
      with the greatest pleasure; but I confess that I directed my servant to do
      all he could to prevent an infected person from getting my horse. It was
      returned to me in a very short time. The same thing happened to many
      others. The cause may be easily conjectured.
    
Everyone, when parting with their horse, was now eager to avoid giving it to anyone thought to be suffering from the plague. A lot of effort was put into figuring out the illnesses of the sick, and it was no trouble to assist those who were wounded or had undergone amputations. As for me, I had a great horse, a mule, and two camels, all of which I gave up willingly; but I admit that I instructed my servant to do everything he could to keep an infected person from getting my horse. It was returned to me in no time at all. The same happened to many others. The reason for this can be easily guessed.







      The remains of our heavy artillery were lost in the moving sands of
      Tentoura, from the want of horses, the small number that remained being
      employed in more indispensable services. The soldiers seemed to forget
      their own sufferings, plunged in grief at the loss of their bronze guns,
      often the instruments of their triumphs, and which had made Europe
      tremble.
    
The remains of our heavy artillery were lost in the shifting sands of Tentoura, as we lacked horses, with the few that were left being used for more essential tasks. The soldiers appeared to overlook their own struggles, immersed in sorrow over the loss of their bronze cannons, often the tools of their victories, which had once made Europe shake.







      We halted at Caesarea on the 22d of May, and we marched all the following
      night. Towards daybreak a man, concealed in a bush upon the left of the
      road (the sea was two paces from us on the right), fired a musket almost
      close to the head of the General-in-Chief, who was sleeping on his horse.
      I was beside him. The wood being searched, the Nablousian was taken
      without difficulty, and ordered to be shot on the spot. Four guides pushed
      him towards the sea by thrusting their carbines against his back; when
      close to the water's edge they drew the triggers, but all the four muskets
      hung fire: a circumstance which was accounted for by the great humidity of
      the night. The Nablousian threw himself into the water, and, swimming with
      great agility and rapidity, gained a ridge of rocks so far off that not a
      shot from the whole troop, which fired as it passed, reached him.
      Bonaparte, who continued his march, desired me to wait for Kléber, whose
      division formed the rear-guard, and to tell him not to forget the
      Nablousian. He was, I believe, shot at last.
    
We stopped at Caesarea on May 22nd, and we marched all night. As dawn approached, a man hiding in a bush to the left of the road (the sea was just a couple of steps to our right) fired a musket almost directly at the General-in-Chief, who was asleep on his horse. I was right next to him. When they searched the area, they easily caught the Nablousian and ordered him to be shot on the spot. Four guides pushed him toward the sea, pressing their rifles against his back; when they got him to the water's edge, they pulled the triggers, but all four muskets misfired due to the heavy humidity from the night. The Nablousian jumped into the water and, swimming swiftly and skillfully, reached a ridge of rocks so far away that none of the shots fired by the entire troop hit him. Bonaparte, who kept moving, asked me to wait for Kléber, whose division was at the back, and to remind him not to forget the Nablousian. I believe he was eventually shot.







      We returned to Jaffa on the 24th of May, and stopped there during the
      25th, 26th, 27th, and 28th. This town had lately been the scene of a
      horrible transaction, dictated by necessity, and it was again destined to
      witness the exercise of the same dire law. Here I have a painful duty to
      perform—I will perform it. I will state what I know, what I saw.
    
We got back to Jaffa on May 24th and stayed there on the 25th, 26th, 27th, and 28th. This town had recently been the site of a terrible event, driven by necessity, and it was once again set to experience the same harsh reality. Here, I have a difficult task to fulfill—I will do it. I will share what I know, what I witnessed.







      I have seen the following passage in a certain, work:—"Bonaparte,
      having arrived at Jaffa, ordered three removals of the infected: one by
      sea to Damietta, and also by land; the second to Gaza; and the third to
      El-Arish!" So, many words, so many errors!
    
I came across the following passage in a certain work:—"Bonaparte, upon arriving in Jaffa, commanded three evacuations of the infected: one by sea to Damietta, and also by land; the second to Gaza; and the third to El-Arish!" So many words, so many mistakes!







      Some tents were pitched on an eminence near the gardens east of Jaffa.
      Orders were given directly to undermine the fortifications and blow them
      up; and on the 27th of May, upon the signaling given, the town was in a
      moment laid bare. An hour afterwards the General-in-Chief left his tent
      and repaired to the town, accompanied by Berthier, some physicians and
      surgeons, and his usual staff. I was also one of the party. A long and sad
      deliberation took place on the question which now arose relative to the
      men who were incurably ill of the plague, or who were at the point of
      death. After a discussion of the most serious and conscientious kind it
      was decided to accelerate a few moments, by a potion, a death which was
      inevitable, and which would otherwise be painful and cruel.
    
Some tents were set up on a rise near the gardens east of Jaffa. Orders were given to undermine the fortifications and blow them up; and on May 27th, when the signal was given, the town was suddenly exposed. An hour later, the General-in-Chief left his tent and went to the town, accompanied by Berthier, some doctors, and his usual staff. I was also part of the group. A long and somber discussion took place regarding the men who were incurably ill with the plague or were near death. After a very serious and thoughtful debate, it was decided to hasten a death that was inevitable with a potion, which would otherwise be painful and cruel.







      Bonaparte took a rapid view of the destroyed ramparts of the town and
      returned to the hospital, where there were men whose limbs had been
      amputated, many wounded, many afflicted with ophthalmia, whose
      lamentations were distressing, and some infected with the plague. The beds
      of the last description of patients were to the right on entering the
      first ward. I walked by the General's side, and I assert that I never saw
      him touch any one of the infected. And why should he have done so? They
      were in the last stage of the disease. Not one of them spoke a word to
      him, and Bonaparte well knew that he possessed no protection against the
      plague. Is Fortune to be again brought forward here? She had, in truth,
      little favoured him during the last few months, when he had trusted to her
      favours. I ask, why should he have exposed himself to certain death, and
      have left his army in the midst of a desert created by our ravages, in a
      desolate town, without succour, and without the hope of ever receiving
      any? Would he have acted rightly in doing so—he who was evidently so
      necessary, so indispensable to his army; he on whom depended at that
      moment the lives of all who had survived the last disaster, and who had
      proved their attachment to him by their sufferings, their privations, and
      their unshaken courage, and who had done all that he could have required
      of men, and whose only trust was in him?
    
Bonaparte quickly looked over the destroyed walls of the town and went back to the hospital, where there were men with amputated limbs, many wounded, many suffering from eye infections, whose cries were heartbreaking, and some infected with the plague. The beds of the plague patients were to the right as we entered the first ward. I walked beside the General, and I can say that I never saw him touch any of the infected. And why would he? They were in the final stage of the disease. None of them spoke to him, and Bonaparte knew he had no protection against the plague. Should we talk about luck here? Truthfully, it hadn’t been on his side in the past few months when he had relied on it. I wonder why he would have put himself at risk of certain death and left his army stranded in a wasteland created by our destruction, in a bleak town, without help and without hope for any? Would it have been right for him to do that—he who was clearly so necessary, so vital to his army; he on whom the lives of all who had survived the last disaster depended at that moment, and who had demonstrated their loyalty through their suffering, hardships, and unwavering courage, and who had done everything he could have asked of them, and whose only faith was in him?







      Bonaparte walked quickly through the rooms, tapping the yellow top of his
      boot with a whip he held in his hand. As he passed along with hasty steps
      he repeated these words: "The fortifications are destroyed. Fortune was
      against me at St. Jean d'Acre. I must return to Egypt to preserve it from
      the enemy, who will soon be there: In a few hours the Turks will be here.
      Let all those who have strength enough rise and come along with us. They
      shall be carried on litters and horses." There were scarcely sixty cases
      of plague in the hospital; and all accounts stating a greater number are
      exaggerated. The perfect silence, complete dejection, and general stupor
      of the patients announced their approaching end. To carry them away in the
      state in which they were would evidently have been doing nothing else than
      inoculating the rest of the army with the plague. I have, it is true,
      learned, since my return to Europe, that some persons touched the infected
      with impunity; nay; that others went so far as to inoculate themselves
      with the plague in order to learn how to cure those whom it might attack.
      It certainly was a special protection from Heaven to be preserved from it;
      but to cover in some degree the absurdity of such a story, it is added
      that they knew how to elude the danger, and that any one else who braved
      it without using precautions met with death for their temerity. This is,
      in fact, the whole point of the question. Either those privileged persons
      took indispensable precautions; and in that case their boasted heroism is
      a mere juggler's trick; or they touched the infected without using
      precautions, and inoculated themselves with the plague, thus voluntarily
      encountering death, and then the story is really a good one.
    
Bonaparte walked quickly through the rooms, tapping the yellow top of his boot with the whip he held in his hand. As he hurried along, he kept repeating, "The fortifications are destroyed. Luck was against me at St. Jean d'Acre. I have to go back to Egypt to protect it from the enemy, who will be here soon: The Turks will arrive in a few hours. Let everyone who is strong enough rise and come with us. They can be carried on litters and horses." There were barely sixty cases of plague in the hospital, and any reports saying more are just exaggerated. The complete silence, deep sadness, and general shock of the patients indicated their impending end. Taking them away in their current condition would have just spread the plague to the rest of the army. I have indeed heard, since returning to Europe, that some people touched the infected without getting sick; in fact, some went so far as to infect themselves with the plague to figure out how to treat those who might catch it. Being safe from it was surely a special protection from Heaven; but to somewhat justify such a ridiculous story, it’s added that they knew how to avoid danger and that anyone else who dared without taking precautions ended up dead for their recklessness. This is really the crux of the matter. Either those fortunate people took essential precautions, in which case their claimed bravery is just a trick; or they handled the infected without precautions, knowingly risking death, making the story quite interesting.







      The infected were confided, it has been stated, to the head apothecary of
      the army, Royer, who, dying in Egypt three years after, carried the secret
      with him to the grave. But on a moment's reflection it will be evident
      that the leaving of Royer alone in Jaffa would have been to devote to
      certain death; and that a prompt and cruel one, a man who was extremely
      useful to the army, and who was at the time in perfect health. It must be
      remembered that no guard could be left with him, and that the Turks were
      close at our heels. Bonaparte truly said, while walking through the rooms
      of the hospital, that the Turks would be at Jaffa in a few hours. With
      this conviction, would he have left the head apothecary in that town?
    
The infected were left in the care of the head pharmacist of the army, Royer, who, after dying in Egypt three years later, took the secret to his grave. However, if you think about it for a moment, it's clear that leaving Royer alone in Jaffa would have meant certain death for him; and a quick and brutal one at that, as he was extremely valuable to the army and in great health at the time. It’s important to remember that no guard could stay with him and the Turks were right on our tail. Bonaparte accurately remarked while walking through the hospital that the Turks would reach Jaffa in a few hours. With that belief, would he really have left the head pharmacist in that town?







      Recourse has been had to suppositions to support the contrary belief to
      what I state. For example, it is said that the infected patients were
      embarked in ships of war. There were no such ships. Where had they
      disembarked, who had received them; what had been done with them? No one
      speaks of them. Others, not doubting that the infected men died at Jaffa,
      say, that the rearguard under Kléber, by order of Bonaparte, delayed its
      departure for three days, and only began its march when death had put an
      end to the sufferings of these unfortunate beings, unshortened by any
      sacrifice. All this is incorrect. No rear-guard was left—it could
      not be done. Pretence is made of forgetting that the ramparts were
      destroyed, that the town was as open and as defenceless as any village, so
      this small rear-guard would have been left for certain destruction. The
      dates themselves tell against these suppositions. It is certain, as can be
      seen by the official account, that we arrived at Jaffa on 24th May, and
      stayed there the 25th, 26th, and 27th. We left it on the 28th. Thus the
      rear-guard, which, according to these writers, left-on the 29th, did not
      remain, even according to their own hypothesis, three days after the army
      to see the sick die. In reality it left on the 29th of May, the day after
      we did. Here are the very words of the Major-General (Berthier) in his
      official account, written under the eye and under the dictation of the
      Commander-in-Chief:—
    
Recourse has been made to assumptions to support the opposite belief to what I state. For instance, it’s claimed that the infected patients were put on warships. There were no such ships. Where did they disembark, who took them in, what happened to them? No one mentions them. Others, convinced that the infected men died in Jaffa, say that the rearguard under Kléber, by Bonaparte’s order, postponed its departure for three days and only began its march after death had ended the suffering of these unfortunate individuals, without any sacrifice made for them. All this is incorrect. No rearguard was left—it couldn’t have been done. They pretend to forget that the walls were destroyed, that the town was as exposed and defenseless as any village, making it certain that this small rearguard would have been left for inevitable destruction. The dates themselves contradict these assumptions. It is clear, as shown by the official account, that we arrived in Jaffa on May 24th and stayed there on the 25th, 26th, and 27th. We left on the 28th. Therefore, the rearguard, which these writers claim left on the 29th, did not remain, even according to their own hypothesis, for three days after the army to witness the sick die. In reality, it left on May 29th, the day after we did. Here are the exact words of the Major-General (Berthier) in his official account, written under the watchful eye and direction of the Commander-in-Chief:—






   The army arrived at Jaffa, 5th Prairial (24th May), and remained
   there the 6th, 7th, and 8th (25th-27th May). This time was employed
   in punishing the village, which had behaved badly. The
   fortifications of Jaffa were blown up. All the iron guns of the
   place were thrown into the sea. The wounded were removed by sea and
   by land. There were only a few ships, and to give time to complete
   the evacuation by land, the departure of the army had to be deferred
   until the 9th (28th May). Kléber's division formed the rear-guard,
   and only left Jaffa on the 10th (29th May).

   The army arrived at Jaffa on the 5th Prairial (May 24th) and stayed there on the 6th, 7th, and 8th (May 25th-27th). During this time, they punished the village for its bad behavior. The fortifications of Jaffa were demolished, and all the iron cannons from the area were dumped into the sea. The wounded were transported by both sea and land. There were only a few ships available, so to allow time for the evacuation by land, the army's departure had to be delayed until the 9th (May 28th). Kléber's division was the rear guard and didn’t leave Jaffa until the 10th (May 29th).







      The official report of what passed at Jaffa was drawn up by Berthier,
      under the eye of Bonaparte. It has been published; but it may be remarked
      that not a word about the infected, not a word of the visit to the
      hospital, or the touching of the plague-patients with impunity, is there
      mentioned. In no official report is anything said about the matter. Why
      this silence? Bonaparte was not the man to conceal a fact which would have
      afforded him so excellent and so allowable a text for talking about his
      fortune. If the infected were removed, why not mention it? Why be silent
      on so important an event? But it would have been necessary to confess that
      being obliged to have recourse to so painful a measure was the unavoidable
      consequence of this unfortunate expedition. Very disagreeable details must
      have been entered into; and it was thought more advisable to be silent on
      the subject.
    
The official report about what happened at Jaffa was written by Berthier, with Bonaparte overseeing it. It has been published; however, it's worth noting that there’s no mention of the infected, no details about the visit to the hospital, or anything about coming into contact with plague patients without consequences. No official report mentions this issue. Why this silence? Bonaparte was not the type to hide a fact that would have given him a great reason to talk about his luck. If the infected were taken away, why not say so? Why ignore such a significant event? But admitting that having to resort to such a painful measure was an unavoidable result of this unfortunate expedition would have been necessary. Very unpleasant details would have had to be included; thus, it was considered better to stay quiet on the matter.







      But what did Napoleon himself say on the subject at St. Helena? His
      statement there was to the following effect:—"I ordered a
      consultation as to what was best to be done. The report which was made
      stated that there were seven or eight men (the question is not about the
      number) so dangerously ill that they could not live beyond twenty-four
      hours, and would besides infect the rest of the army with the plague. It
      was thought it would be an act of charity to anticipate their death a few
      hours."
    
But what did Napoleon say about it at St. Helena? He stated, "I called for a consultation to determine the best course of action. The report indicated that there were seven or eight men (the exact number isn't the issue) who were so critically ill that they wouldn’t survive more than twenty-four hours and might also infect the rest of the army with the plague. It was considered compassionate to hasten their death by a few hours."







      Then comes the fable of the 500 men of the rear guard, who, it is
      pretended, saw them die! I make no doubt that the story of the poisoning
      was the invention of Den——. He was a babbler, who understood a
      story badly, and repeated it worse. I do not think it would have been a
      crime to have given opium to the infected. On the contrary, it would have
      been obedience to the dictates of reason. Where is the man who would not,
      in such a situation, have preferred a prompt death, to being exposed to
      the lingering tortures inflicted by barbarians? If my child, and I believe
      I love him as much as any father does his, had been in such a state, my
      advice would have been the same; if I had been among the infected myself,
      I should have demanded to be so treated.
    
Then comes the story of the 500 men who were in the rear guard, who supposedly witnessed their deaths! I have no doubt that the story about the poisoning was made up by Den——. He was a chatterbox who misunderstood the story and spread it even worse. I don’t think it would have been wrong to give opium to those who were infected. On the contrary, it would have been following common sense. Who wouldn’t, in a situation like that, prefer a quick death over the prolonged suffering caused by savages? If my child, and I believe I love him as much as any father loves his child, had been in that condition, my advice would have been the same; if I had been among the infected myself, I would have insisted on being treated that way.







      Such was the reasoning at St. Helena, and such was the view which he and
      every one else took of the case twenty years ago at Jaffa.
    
Such was the reasoning at St. Helena, and such was the view that he and everyone else had of the case twenty years ago at Jaffa.







      Our little army arrived at Cairo on the 14th of June, after a painful and
      harassing march of twenty-five days. The heats during the passage of the
      desert between El-Arish and Belbeis exceeded thirty-three degrees. On
      placing the bulb of the thermometer in the sand the mercury rose to
      forty-five degrees. The deceitful mirage was even more vexatious than in
      the plains of Bohahire'h. In spite of our experience an excessive thirst,
      added to a perfect illusion, made us goad on our wearied horses towards
      lakes which vanished at our approach, and left behind nothing but salt and
      arid sand. In two days my cloak was completely covered with salt, left on
      it after the evaporation of the moisture which held it in solution. Our
      horses, who ran eagerly to the brackish springs of the desert, perished in
      numbers, after travelling about a quarter of a league from the spot where
      they drank the deleterious fluid.
    
Our small army reached Cairo on June 14th, after a grueling and exhausting 25-day march. The heat while crossing the desert between El-Arish and Belbeis went over 33 degrees Celsius. When we stuck the thermometer into the sand, the mercury shot up to 45 degrees. The deceptive mirage was even more frustrating than on the plains of Bohahire'h. Despite our experience, intense thirst combined with a perfect illusion pushed us to urge our tired horses toward lakes that disappeared as we got closer, leaving only salt and dry sand in their place. In just two days, my cloak was completely covered in salt left behind after the moisture evaporated. Our horses, which eagerly rushed to the brackish springs of the desert, died in large numbers after traveling about a quarter of a league from where they drank the toxic water.







      Bonaparte preceded his entry into the capital of Egypt by one of those
      lying bulletins which only imposed on fools. "I will bring with me," said
      he, "many prisoners and flags. I have razed the palace of the Djezzar and
      the ramparts of Acre—not a stone remains upon another. All the
      inhabitants have left the city, by sea. Djezzar is severely wounded."
    
Bonaparte announced his arrival in the capital of Egypt with one of those deceptive bulletins that only fooled the gullible. "I will bring with me," he said, "many prisoners and flags. I have destroyed the palace of Djezzar and the walls of Acre—nothing remains standing. All the residents have fled the city by sea. Djezzar is seriously injured."







      I confess that I experienced a painful sensation in writing, by his
      dictation, these official words, everyone of which was an imposition.
      Excited by all I had just witnessed, it was difficult for me to refrain
      from making the observation; but his constant reply was, "My dear fellow,
      you are a simpleton: you do not understand this business." And he
      observed, when signing the bulletin, that he would yet fill the world with
      admiration, and inspire historians and poets.
    
I admit that I felt a deep discomfort while writing these official words at his request, each one feeling like a burden. Caught up in everything I had just seen, it was hard for me to hold back my thoughts; but his usual response was, "My dear friend, you’re just being naïve: you don’t get how this works." He also mentioned, as he signed the report, that he would eventually amaze the world and inspire historians and poets.







      Our return to Cairo has been attributed to the insurrections which broke
      out during the unfortunate expedition into Syria. Nothing is more
      incorrect. The term insurrection cannot be properly applied to the foolish
      enterprises of the angel El-Mahdi in the Bohahire'h, or to the less
      important disturbances in the Charkyeh. The reverses experienced before
      St. Jean d'Acre, the fear, or rather the prudent anticipation of a hostile
      landing, were sufficient motives, and the only ones, for our return to
      Egypt. What more could we do in Syria but lose men and time, neither of
      which the General had to spare?
    
Our return to Cairo has been blamed on the rebellions that erupted during the unfortunate campaign in Syria. That couldn't be more wrong. The word "rebellion" doesn't really fit the silly ventures of the angel El-Mahdi in the Bohahire'h, nor the less significant disturbances in the Charkyeh. The setbacks we faced before St. Jean d'Acre, along with the fear—or rather the sensible anticipation—of an enemy landing, were the only real reasons for our return to Egypt. What else could we do in Syria but waste men and time, neither of which the General could afford?








 


 




















      CHAPTER XX.
    



      1799.
    
1799.


   Murat and Moarad Bey at the Natron Lakes—Bonaparte's departure for
   the Pyramids—Sudden appearance of an Arab messenger—News of
   the landing of the Turks at Aboukir—Bonaparte marches against
   them—They are immediately attacked and destroyed in the battle of
   Aboukir—Interchange of communication with the English—Sudden
   determination to return to Europe—Outfit of two frigates—
   Bonaparte's dissimulation—His pretended journey to the Delta—
   Generous behaviour of Lanusee—Bonaparte's artifice—His bad
   treatment of General Kléber.

Murat and Moarad Bey at the Natron Lakes—Bonaparte's departure for the Pyramids—The unexpected arrival of an Arab messenger—News of the Turks landing at Aboukir—Bonaparte marches against them—They are quickly attacked and defeated in the battle of Aboukir—Exchange of communication with the English—Sudden decision to return to Europe—Preparation of two frigates—Bonaparte's deception—His fake trip to the Delta—Generous actions of Lanusee—Bonaparte's cunning—His poor treatment of General Kléber.







      Bonaparte had hardly set foot in Cairo when he was informed that the brave
      and indefatigable Mourad Bey was descending by the Fayoum, in order to
      form a junction with reinforcements which had been for some time past
      collected in the Bohahire'h. In all probability this movement of Mourad
      Bey was the result of news he had received respecting plans formed at
      Constantinople, and the landing which took place a short time after in the
      roads of Aboukir. Mourad had selected the Natron Lakes for his place of
      rendezvous. To these lakes Murat was despatched. The Bey no sooner got
      notice of Murat's presence than he determined to retreat and to proceed by
      the desert to Gizeh and the great Pyramids. I certainly never heard, until
      I returned to France, that Mourad had ascended to the summit of the great
      Pyramid for the purpose of passing his time in contemplating Cairo!
    
Bonaparte had barely arrived in Cairo when he learned that the brave and tireless Mourad Bey was coming down through the Fayoum to meet up with reinforcements that had been gathering in the Bohahire'h for a while. This movement by Mourad Bey was likely a response to news he had received about plans being made in Constantinople and the landing that happened shortly after in the waters of Aboukir. Mourad chose the Natron Lakes as his meeting point. Murat was sent to these lakes. As soon as the Bey found out that Murat was there, he decided to retreat and travel through the desert to Gizeh and the great Pyramids. I never heard, until I returned to France, that Mourad had climbed to the top of the great Pyramid to spend his time looking out over Cairo!







      Napoleon said at St. Helena that Murat might have taken Mourad Bey had the
      latter remained four-and-twenty hours longer in the Natron Lakes. Now the
      fact is, that as soon as the Bey heard of Murat's arrival he was off. The
      Arabian spies were far more serviceable to our enemies than to us; we had
      not, indeed, a single friend in Egypt. Mourad Bey, on being informed by
      the Arabs, who acted as couriers for him, that General Desaix was
      despatching a column from the south of Egypt against him, that the
      General-in-Chief was also about to follow his footsteps along the frontier
      of Gizeh, and that the Natron Lakes and the Bohahire'h were occupied by
      forces superior to his own, retired into Fayoum.
    
Napoleon said at St. Helena that Murat could have caught Mourad Bey if he had stayed at the Natron Lakes for just another twenty-four hours. The truth is, as soon as the Bey found out about Murat's arrival, he took off. The Arabian spies were much more helpful to our enemies than to us; we really had no allies in Egypt. Mourad Bey, after being informed by the Arabs, who acted as his messengers, that General Desaix was sending a column from the south of Egypt against him, that the General-in-Chief was also preparing to follow along the Gizeh border, and that the Natron Lakes and Bohahire'h were held by forces stronger than his, retreated to Fayoum.







      Bonaparte attached great importance to the destruction of Mourad, whom he
      looked upon as the bravest, the most active, and most dangerous of his
      enemies in Egypt. As all accounts concurred in stating that Mourad,
      supported by the Arabs, was hovering about the skirts of the desert of the
      province of Gizeh, Bonaparte proceeded to the Pyramids, there to direct
      different corps against that able and dangerous partisan. He, indeed,
      reckoned him so redoubtable that he wrote to Murat, saying he wished
      fortune might reserve for him the honour of putting the seal on the
      conquest of Egypt by the destruction of this opponent.
    
Bonaparte placed a lot of importance on taking down Mourad, whom he considered the bravest, most active, and most dangerous of his enemies in Egypt. Since all reports indicated that Mourad, backed by the Arabs, was moving around the edges of the Gizeh desert, Bonaparte went to the Pyramids to organize different forces against that skilled and threatening guerrilla fighter. He saw him as such a serious threat that he wrote to Murat, expressing his hope that fate would allow him the honor of sealing the conquest of Egypt by defeating this opponent.







      On the 14th of July Bonaparte left Cairo for the Pyramids. He intended
      spending three or four days in examining the ruins of the ancient
      necropolis of Memphis; but he was suddenly obliged to alter his plan. This
      journey to the Pyramids, occasioned by the course of war, has given an
      opportunity for the invention of a little piece of romance. Some ingenious
      people have related that Bonaparte gave audiences to the mufti and ulemas,
      and that on entering one of the great Pyramids he cried out, "Glory to
      Allah! God only is God, and Mahomet is his prophet!" Now the fact is, that
      Bonaparte never even entered the great Pyramid. He never had any thought
      of entering it:—I certainly should have accompanied him had he done
      so for I never quitted his side a single moment in the desert. He caused
      some person to enter into one of the great Pyramids while he remained
      outside, and received from them, on their return, an account of what they
      had seen. In other words, they informed him there was nothing to be seen!
    
On July 14th, Bonaparte left Cairo for the Pyramids. He planned to spend three or four days exploring the ruins of the ancient necropolis of Memphis, but he suddenly had to change his plans. This journey to the Pyramids, brought about by the nature of war, has sparked a bit of romance. Some clever people have claimed that Bonaparte held meetings with the mufti and ulemas, and that when he entered one of the great Pyramids, he exclaimed, "Glory to Allah! God is the only God, and Muhammad is his prophet!" However, the truth is that Bonaparte never entered the great Pyramid. He never even thought about going inside it—I would have definitely accompanied him if he had, since I never left his side for a moment in the desert. He had someone else go inside one of the great Pyramids while he stayed outside and got a report from them upon their return about what they had seen. In other words, they told him there was nothing to see!







      On the evening of the 15th of July, while we were taking a walk, we
      perceived, on the road leading from Alexandria, an Arab riding up to us in
      all haste. He brought to the General-in-Chief a despatch from General
      Marmont, who was entrusted with the command of Alexandria, and who had
      conducted himself so well, especially during the dreadful ravages of the
      plague, that he had gained the unqualified approbation of Bonaparte. The
      Turks had landed on the 11th of July at Aboukir, under the escort and
      protection of English ships of war. The news of the landing of from
      fifteen to sixteen thousand men did not surprise Bonaparte, who had for
      some time expected it. It was not so, however, with the generals most in
      his favor, whose apprehensions, for reasons which may be conjectured, he
      had endeavoured to calm. He had even written to Marmont, who, being in the
      most exposed situation, had the more reason to be vigilant, in these
      terms:
    
On the evening of July 15th, while we were out for a walk, we saw an Arab riding quickly toward us on the road from Alexandria. He was delivering a message to the General-in-Chief from General Marmont, who was in charge of Alexandria and had performed admirably, especially during the terrible outbreak of the plague, earning Bonaparte's full approval. The Turks had landed on July 11th at Aboukir, protected by English warships. The news of the landing of about fifteen to sixteen thousand troops didn't surprise Bonaparte, who had been expecting it for some time. However, the generals who were most favored by him were concerned, for reasons that can be guessed, and he had tried to reassure them. He even wrote to Marmont, who, being in the most vulnerable position, had even more reason to stay alert, saying:






   The army which was to have appeared before Alexandria, and which
   left Constantinople on the 1st of the Ramadhan, has been destroyed
   under the walls of Acre. If, however, that mad Englishman (Smith)
   has embarked the remains of that army in order to convey them to
   Aboukir, I do not believe there can be more than 2000 men.

   The army that was supposed to show up in Alexandria and left Constantinople on the 1st of Ramadan has been wiped out at the walls of Acre. However, if that crazy Englishman (Smith) has taken the remnants of that army to transport them to Aboukir, I doubt there are more than 2,000 men left.







      He wrote in the following strain to General Dugua, who had the command of
      Cairo:
    
He wrote the following to General Dugua, who was in charge of Cairo:






   The English Commander, who has summoned Damietta, is a madman. The
   combined army they speak of has been destroyed before Acre, where it
   arrived a fortnight before we left that place.

   The English Commander, who has called for Damietta, is insane. The combined army they're talking about was wiped out before Acre, where it showed up two weeks before we left that place.







      As soon as he arrived at Cairo, in a letter he despatched to Desaix, he
      said:
    
As soon as he arrived in Cairo, he sent a letter to Desaix, saying:






   The time has now arrived when disembarkations have become
   practicable. I shall lose no time in getting ready. The
   probabilities, however, are, that none will take place this year.

   The time has now come when disembarkations have become
   possible. I won't waste any time getting ready. However, the
   chances are that none will happen this year.







      What other language could he hold, when he had proclaimed when after the
      raising of the siege of Acre, that he had destroyed those 15,000 men who
      two months after landed at Aboukir?
    
What other language could he use when he declared, after the siege of Acre was lifted, that he had wiped out those 15,000 men who landed at Aboukir two months later?







      No sooner had Bonaparte perused the contents of Marmont's letter than he
      retired into his tent and dictated to me, until three in the morning, his
      orders for the departure of the troops, and for the routes he wished to be
      pursued during his absence by the troops who should remain in the
      interior. At this moment I observed in him the development of that
      vigorous character of mind which was excited by obstacles until he
      overcame them—that celerity of thought which foresaw everything. He
      was all action, and never for a moment hesitated. On the 16th of July, at
      four in the morning, he was on horseback and the army in full march. I
      cannot help doing justice to the presence of mind, promptitude of
      decision, and rapidity of execution which at this period of his life never
      deserted him on great occasions.
    
As soon as Bonaparte read Marmont's letter, he went into his tent and dictated to me, until three in the morning, his orders for the troops' departure and the routes he wanted the remaining troops in the interior to take during his absence. At that moment, I noticed the development of his strong mindset, which was energized by challenges until he overcame them—his quick thinking that anticipated everything. He was all about action and never hesitated for a second. On July 16th, at four in the morning, he was on horseback and the army was all set to march. I can't help but acknowledge the presence of mind, quick decision-making, and speed of execution that never left him in significant situations at this stage of his life.







      We reached Ouardan, to the north of Gizeh, on the evening of the 16th; on
      the 19th we arrived at Rahmalianie'h, and on the 23d at Alexandria, where
      every preparation was made for that memorable battle which, though it did
      not repair the immense losses and fatal consequences of the naval conflict
      of the same name, will always recall to the memory of Frenchmen one of the
      most brilliant achievements of their arms.
    
We arrived in Ouardan, north of Giza, on the evening of the 16th; on the 19th we got to Rahmalianie'h, and on the 23rd we reached Alexandria, where everything was set for that unforgettable battle which, although it couldn't undo the huge losses and serious aftermath of the naval clash of the same name, will always remind the French of one of their most remarkable military victories.






 —[As M. de Bourrienne gives no details of the battle, the
   following extract from the Duc de Rovigo's Memoirs, tome i, p. 167,
   will supply the deficiency:

   "General Bonaparte left Cairo in the utmost haste to place himself
   at the head of the troops which he had ordered to quit their
   cantonments and march down to the coast.

   "Whilst the General was making these arrangements and coming in
   person from Cairo, the troops on board the Turkish fleet had
   effected a landing and taken possession of the fort of Aboukir, and
   of a redoubt placed behind the village of that name which ought to
   have been put into a state of defence six months before, but had
   been completely neglected.

   "The Turks had nearly destroyed the weak garrisons that occupied
   those two military points when General Marmont (who commanded at
   Alexandria) came to their relief. This general, seeing the two
   posts in the power of the Turks, returned to shut himself up in
   Alexandria, where he would probably have been blockaded by the
   Turkish army had it not been for the arrival of General Bonaparte
   with his forces, who was very angry when he saw that the fort and
   redoubt had been taken; but he did not blame Marmont for retreating
   to Alexandria with the forces at his disposal.

   "General Bonaparte arrived at midnight with his guides and the
   remaining part of his army, and ordered the Turks to be attacked the
   next morning. In this battle, as in the preceding ones, the attack,
   the encounter, and the rout were occurrences of a moment, and the
   result of a single movement on the part of our troops. The whole
   Turkish army plunged into the sea to regain its ships, leaving
   behind them everything they had brought on shore.

   "Whilst this event was occurring on the seashore a pasha had left
   the field of battle with a corps of about 3000 men in order to throw
   himself into the fort of Aboukir. They soon felt the extremities
   of thirst, which compelled them, after the lapse of a few days, to
   surrender unconditionally to General Menou, who was left to close
   the operations connected with the recently defeated Turkish army."]

—[As M. de Bourrienne doesn't provide details of the battle, the following excerpt from the Duc de Rovigo's Memoirs, tome i, p. 167, will fill in the gaps:

   "General Bonaparte left Cairo in a hurry to take command of the troops he had ordered to leave their camps and head down to the coast.

   "While the General was making these arrangements and coming from Cairo, the troops on the Turkish fleet managed to land and seize the fort of Aboukir, as well as a redoubt located behind the village of the same name, which should have been fortified six months earlier but had been completely neglected.

   "The Turks had nearly wiped out the weak garrisons at those two military positions when General Marmont (who was in charge at Alexandria) arrived to assist them. This general, seeing that the two posts were under Turkish control, chose to retreat to Alexandria, where he would likely have been besieged by the Turkish army if it weren't for General Bonaparte's arrival with his forces, who was very upset to find the fort and redoubt had been captured; however, he did not fault Marmont for falling back to Alexandria with the troops he had.

   "General Bonaparte arrived at midnight with his guides and the rest of his army, ordering an attack on the Turks for the following morning. In this battle, just like in previous ones, the attack, the clash, and the rout were quick events, resulting from a single movement by our troops. The entire Turkish army fled into the sea to return to their ships, leaving behind everything they had brought ashore.

   "While this was happening on the shore, a pasha had left the battlefield with about 3,000 men to take refuge in the fort of Aboukir. They soon suffered from extreme thirst, which forced them, after a few days, to surrender unconditionally to General Menou, who was tasked with concluding the operations related to the recently defeated Turkish army."]








      After the battle, which took place on the 25th of July, Bonaparte sent a
      flag of truce on board the English Admiral's ship. Our intercourse was
      full of politeness, such as might be expected in the communications of the
      people of two civilised nations. The English Admiral gave the flag of
      truce some presents in exchange for some we sent, and likewise a copy of
      the French Gazette of Frankfort, dated 10th of June 1799. For ten months
      we had received no news from France. Bonaparte glanced over this journal
      with an eagerness which may easily be conceived.
    
After the battle on July 25th, Bonaparte sent a flag of truce to the English Admiral's ship. Our interaction was filled with politeness, as you would expect in the communications between two civilized nations. The English Admiral exchanged the flag of truce for some gifts we sent, as well as a copy of the French Gazette of Frankfort, dated June 10, 1799. We hadn't received any news from France for ten months. Bonaparte looked over this newspaper with a eagerness that’s easy to imagine.






 —[The French, on their return from St. Jean d'Acre were totally
   ignorant of all that had taken place in Europe for several months.
   Napoleon, eager to obtain intelligence, sent a flag of truce on
   board the Turkish admiral's ship, under the pretence of treating for
   the ransom of the prisoners taken at Aboukir, not doubting but the
   envoy would be stopped by Sir Sidney Smith, who carefully prevented
   all direct communication between the French and the Turks.
   Accordingly the French flag of truce received directions from Sir
   Sidney to go on board his ship. He experienced the handsomest
   treatment; and the English commander having, among other things,
   ascertained that the disasters of Italy were quite unknown to
   Napoleon, indulged in the malicious pleasure of sending him a file
   of newspapers. Napoleon spent the whole night in his tent perusing
   the papers; and he came to the determination of immediately
   proceeding to Europe to repair the disasters of France; and if
   possible, to save her from destruction (Memorial de Sainte Helene)].

 —[The French, returning from St. Jean d'Acre, were completely unaware of everything that had happened in Europe for several months. Napoleon, wanting to get information, sent a flag of truce to the Turkish admiral's ship, pretending to negotiate for the release of the prisoners taken at Aboukir, not doubting that the envoy would be stopped by Sir Sidney Smith, who carefully blocked all direct communication between the French and the Turks. As expected, the French flag of truce was directed by Sir Sidney to come aboard his ship. He was treated very well; and the English commander, having confirmed that the disasters in Italy were unknown to Napoleon, took pleasure in sending him a batch of newspapers. Napoleon spent the entire night in his tent reading the papers, and he decided to immediately head to Europe to fix France's problems and, if possible, save her from destruction (Memorial de Sainte Helene)].







      "Heavens!" said he to me, "my presentiment is verified: the fools have
      lost Italy. All the fruits of our victories are gone! I must leave Egypt!"
    
"Heavens!" he said to me, "my feeling was right: the idiots have lost Italy. All the rewards from our victories are gone! I have to leave Egypt!"







      He sent for Berthier, to whom he communicated the news, adding that things
      were going on very badly in France—that he wished to return home—that
      he (Berthier) should go along with him, and that, for the present, only
      he, Gantheaume, and I were in the secret. He recommended Berthier to be
      prudent, not to betray any symptoms of joy, nor to purchase or sell
      anything, and concluded by assuring him that he depended on him. "I can
      answer," said he, "for myself and for Bourrienne." Berthier promised to be
      secret, and he kept his word. He had had enough of Egypt, and he so
      ardently longed to return to France, that there was little reason to fear
      he would disappoint himself by any indiscretion.
    
He called for Berthier and shared the news, mentioning that things were going very badly in France. He expressed his desire to go back home and said that Berthier should come with him, adding that for now, only he, Gantheaume, and I were in on the secret. He advised Berthier to be careful, not to show any signs of excitement, and not to buy or sell anything. He ended by assuring him that he was counting on him. "I can vouch," he said, "for myself and for Bourrienne." Berthier agreed to keep it a secret, and he did. He had had enough of Egypt and was so eager to return to France that there was little worry he would mess things up with any slip-ups.







      Gantheaume arrived, and Bonaparte gave him orders to fit out the two
      frigates, the 'Muiron' and the 'Carrère', and the two small vessels, the
      'Revanche' and the 'Fortune', with a two months' supply of provisions for
      from four to five hundred men. He enjoined his secrecy as to the object of
      these preparations, and desired him to act with such circumspection that
      the English cruisers might have no knowledge of what was going on. He
      afterwards arranged with Gantheaume the course he wished to take. No
      details escaped his attention.
    
Gantheaume arrived, and Bonaparte ordered him to prepare the two frigates, the 'Muiron' and the 'Carrère', along with the two smaller ships, the 'Revanche' and the 'Fortune', with a two-month supply of food for four to five hundred men. He insisted on keeping the purpose of these preparations a secret and instructed him to act carefully so that the British cruisers wouldn't find out what was happening. He later discussed with Gantheaume the route he wanted to take. No details were overlooked.







      Bonaparte concealed his preparations with much care, but still some vague
      rumours crept abroad. General Dugua, the commandant of Cairo, whom he had
      just left for the purpose of embarking, wrote to him on the 18th of August
      to the following effect:
    
Bonaparte hid his preparations very carefully, but still some vague rumors got out. General Dugua, the commander of Cairo, whom he had just left to board a ship, wrote to him on August 18th with the following message:






   I have this moment heard that it is reported at the Institute you
   are about to return to France, taking with you Monge, Berthollet,
   Berthier, Lannes, and Murat. This news has spread like lightning
   through the city, and I should not be at all surprised if it produce
   an unfavourable effect, which, however, I hope you will obviate.

   I've just heard that it's being said at the Institute that you’re planning to go back to France, taking Monge, Berthollet, Berthier, Lannes, and Murat with you. This news has spread like wildfire through the city, and I wouldn’t be surprised if it has a negative impact, but I hope you can prevent that.







      Bonaparte embarked five days after the receipt of Dugua's letter, and, as
      may be supposed, without replying to it.
    
Bonaparte set out five days after getting Dugua's letter, and, as you can imagine, he didn't respond to it.







      On the 18th of August he wrote to the divan of Cairo as follows:
    
On August 18th, he wrote to the Cairo council as follows:






   I set out to-morrow for Menouf, whence I intend to make various
   excursions in the Delta, in order that I may myself witness the acts
   of oppression which are committed there, and acquire some knowledge
   of the people.

   I'm leaving for Menouf tomorrow, from where I plan to take various trips around the Delta, so I can see for myself the acts of oppression happening there and learn more about the people.







      He told the army but half the truth:
    
He told the army only part of the truth:






   The news from Europe (said he) has determined me to proceed to
   France. I leave the command of the army to General Kléber. The
   army shall hear from me forthwith. At present I can say no more.
   It costs me much pain to quit troops to whom I am so strongly
   attached. But my absence will be but temporary, and the general I
   leave in command has the confidence of the Government as well as
   mine.

   The news from Europe, he said, has made me decide to go to France. I'm leaving the command of the army to General Kléber. The army will hear from me soon. Right now, I can’t say much more. It really hurts me to leave the troops I feel so attached to. But my absence will be temporary, and the general I'm leaving in charge has both the confidence of the Government and mine.







      I have now shown the true cause of General Bonaparte's departure for
      Europe. This circumstance, in itself perfectly natural, has been the
      subject of the most ridiculous conjectures to those who always wish to
      assign extraordinary causes for simple events. There is no truth whatever
      in the assertion of his having planned his departure before the battle of
      Aboukir. Such an idea never crossed his mind. He had no thought whatever
      of his departure for France when he made the journey to the Pyramids, nor
      even when he received the news of the landing of the Anglo-Turkish force.
    
I have now revealed the real reason for General Bonaparte's departure for Europe. This situation, which is completely natural, has led to the most absurd speculations from those who always want to attribute extraordinary causes to simple events. There is no truth at all in the claim that he planned his departure before the battle of Aboukir. That thought never entered his mind. He had no intention of leaving for France when he traveled to the Pyramids, nor even when he heard about the landing of the Anglo-Turkish force.







      At the end of December 1798 Bonaparte thus wrote to the Directory: "We are
      without any news from France. No courier has arrived since the month of
      June."
    
At the end of December 1798, Bonaparte wrote to the Directory: "We haven't received any news from France. No courier has arrived since June."







      Some writers have stated that we received news by the way of Tunis,
      Algiers, or Morocco; but there is no contradicting a positive fact. At
      that period I had been with Bonaparte more than two years, and during that
      time not a single despatch on any occasion arrived of the contents of
      which I was ignorant. How then should the news alluded to have escaped me?
    
Some writers have said that we got news through Tunis, Algiers, or Morocco; but you can't argue with a clear fact. At that time, I had been with Bonaparte for over two years, and during that time, I was never unaware of the contents of any dispatches that arrived. So how could I have missed the news being talked about?






 —[Details on the question of the correspondence of Napoleon with
   France while he was to Egypt will be found in Colonel Iung's work,
   Lucien Bonaparte (Paris. Charpentier, 1882), tome i. pp. 251-274.
   It seems most probable that Napoleon was in occasional communication
   with his family and with some of the Directors by way of Tunis and
   Tripoli. It would not be his interest to let his army or perhaps
   even Bourrienne know of the disasters in Italy till he found that
   they were sure to hear of them through the English. This would
   explain his affected ignorance till such a late date. On the 11th
   of April Barras received a despatch by which Napoleon stated his
   intention of returning to France if the news brought by Hamelin was
   confirmed. On the 26th of May 1799 three of the Directors, Barras,
   Rewbell, and La Révellière-Lepeaux, wrote to Napoleon that Admiral
   Bruix had been ordered to attempt every means of bringing back his
   army. On the 15th of July Napoleon seems to have received this and
   other letters. On the 20th of July he warns Admiral Gantheaume to
   be ready to start. On the 11th of September the Directors formally
   approved the recall of the army from Egypt. Thus at the time
   Napoleon landed in France (on the 8th October), his intended return
   had been long known to and approved by the majority of the
   Directors, and had at last been formally ordered by the Directory.
   At the most he anticipated the order. He cannot be said to have
   deserted his post. Lantrey (tome i. p. 411) remarks that the
   existence and receipt of the letter from Joseph denied by Bourrienne
   is proved by Miot (the commissary, the brother of Miot de Melito)
   and by Joseph himself. Talleyrand thanks the French Consul at
   Tripoli for sending news from Egypt, and for letting Bonaparte know
   what passed in Europe. See also Ragusa (Marmont), tome i. p. 441,
   writing on 24th December 1798: "I have found an Arab of whom I am
   sure, and who shall start to-morrow for Derne. . . . This means
   can be used to send a letter to Tripoli, for boats often go there."]

—[Details on the question of Napoleon's correspondence with France while he was in Egypt can be found in Colonel Iung's book, Lucien Bonaparte (Paris. Charpentier, 1882), volume i, pp. 251-274. It's most likely that Napoleon occasionally communicated with his family and some of the Directors through Tunis and Tripoli. It wouldn't be in his interest to let his army or even Bourrienne know about the disasters in Italy until he was sure they would hear about them from the English. This explains his affected ignorance for so long. On April 11, Barras received a dispatch where Napoleon stated his intention to return to France if the news brought by Hamelin was confirmed. On May 26, 1799, three of the Directors—Barras, Rewbell, and La Révelliere-Lepeaux—wrote to Napoleon that Admiral Bruix had been instructed to explore every possible way to bring back his army. On July 15, Napoleon seems to have received this and other letters. On July 20, he warns Admiral Gantheaume to be ready to depart. On September 11, the Directors formally approved the recall of the army from Egypt. So, by the time Napoleon landed in France (on October 8), his planned return had been well-known and approved by the majority of the Directors and had finally been officially ordered by the Directory. At most, he anticipated the order. He can’t be said to have deserted his post. Lantrey (volume i, p. 411) notes that the existence and receipt of the letter from Joseph, which Bourrienne denied, is confirmed by Miot (the commissary, brother of Miot de Melito) and by Joseph himself. Talleyrand thanks the French Consul in Tripoli for sending news from Egypt and for informing Bonaparte about what was happening in Europe. See also Ragusa (Marmont), volume i, p. 441, writing on December 24, 1798: "I have found an Arab whom I trust and who will leave tomorrow for Derne. . . . This means can be used to send a letter to Tripoli since boats frequently go there."]







      Almost all those who endeavour to avert from Bonaparte the reproach of
      desertion quote a letter from the Directory, dated the 26th of May 1799.
      This letter may certainly have been written, but it never reached its
      destination. Why then should it be put upon record?
    
Almost everyone who tries to deflect the accusation of abandonment from Bonaparte cites a letter from the Directory, dated May 26, 1799. This letter might have been written, but it never arrived at its destination. So why should it be officially noted?







      The circumstance I have stated above determined the resolution of
      Bonaparte, and made him look upon Egypt as an exhausted field of glory,
      which it was high time he had quitted, to play another part in France. On
      his departure from Europe Bonaparte felt that his reputation was
      tottering. He wished to do something to raise up his glory, and to fix
      upon him the attention of the world. This object he had in great part
      accomplished; for, in spite of serious disasters, the French flag waved
      over the cataracts of the Nile and the ruins of Memphis, and the battles
      of the Pyramids, and Aboukir were calculated in no small degree to dazzle
      the imagination. Cairo and Alexandria too were ours. Finding that the
      glory of his arms no longer supported the feeble power of the Directory,
      he was anxious to see whether he could not share it, or appropriate it to
      himself.
    
The situation I mentioned earlier influenced Bonaparte's decision and made him see Egypt as a place that had run out of glory, which he felt it was time to leave behind to take on a new role in France. When he left Europe, Bonaparte sensed that his reputation was shaky. He wanted to achieve something to boost his fame and capture the world's attention. He had largely succeeded in this mission; despite serious setbacks, the French flag flew over the Nile’s waterfalls and the ruins of Memphis, and the battles of the Pyramids and Aboukir were impressive enough to captivate the imagination. Cairo and Alexandria were also under our control. Realizing that the glory of his military feats could no longer uphold the weak power of the Directory, he was eager to see if he could either share that glory or claim it for himself.







      A great deal has been said about letters and secret communications from
      the Directory, but Bonaparte needed no such thing. He could do what he
      pleased: there was no power to check him; such had been the nature of his
      arrangements on leaving France. He followed only the dictates of his own
      will, and probably, had not the fleet been destroyed, he would have
      departed from Egypt much sooner. To will and to do were with him one and
      the same thing. The latitude he enjoyed was the result of his verbal
      agreement with the Directory, whose instructions and plans he did not wish
      should impede his operations.
    
A lot has been said about letters and secret communications from the Directory, but Bonaparte didn’t need any of that. He could act as he wanted: there was no one to stop him; that had been the situation when he left France. He only followed his own wishes, and probably, if the fleet hadn’t been destroyed, he would have left Egypt much earlier. For him, wanting and doing were the same thing. The freedom he had was due to his verbal agreement with the Directory, whose instructions and plans he didn’t want to interfere with his actions.







      Bonaparte left Alexandria on the 5th of August, and on the 10th arrived at
      Cairo. He at first circulated the report of a journey to Upper Egypt. This
      seemed so much the more reasonable, as he had really entertained that
      design before he went to the Pyramids, and the fact was known to the army
      and the inhabitants of Cairo. Up to this time our secret had been
      studiously kept. However, General Lanusse, the commandant at Menouf, where
      we arrived on the 20th of August, suspected it. "You are going to France,"
      said he to me. My negative reply confirmed his suspicion. This almost
      induced me to believe the General-in-Chief had been the first to make the
      disclosure. General Lanusse, though he envied our good fortune, made no
      complaints. He expressed his sincere wishes for our prosperous voyage, but
      never opened his mouth on the subject to any one.
    
Bonaparte left Alexandria on August 5th and arrived in Cairo on the 10th. He initially spread the rumor that he was planning a trip to Upper Egypt. This seemed quite plausible, as he had seriously considered that plan before visiting the Pyramids, and the army and people of Cairo knew about it. Until then, we had kept our secret very well. However, General Lanusse, the commander at Menouf where we arrived on August 20th, suspected something. "You’re going to France," he said to me. My denial confirmed his suspicion. This almost made me think that the General-in-Chief was the first to reveal the secret. Although General Lanusse envied our good fortune, he didn’t complain. He sincerely wished us a safe journey but never mentioned the topic to anyone else.







      On the 21st of August we reached the wells of Birkett. The Arabs had
      rendered the water unfit for use, but the General-in-Chief was resolved to
      quench his thirst, and for this purpose squeezed the juice of several
      lemons into a glass of the water; but he could not swallow it without
      holding his nose and exhibiting strong feelings of disgust.
    
On August 21st, we arrived at the wells of Birkett. The Arabs had made the water undrinkable, but the General-in-Chief was determined to satisfy his thirst. To do this, he squeezed the juice of several lemons into a glass of the water, but he couldn’t drink it without holding his nose and showing strong disgust.







      The next day we reached Alexandria, where the General informed all those,
      who had accompanied him from Cairo that France was their destination. At
      this announcement joy was pictured in every countenance.
    
The next day we arrived in Alexandria, where the General told everyone who had traveled with him from Cairo that France was their destination. At this news, joy was evident on every face.







      General Kléber, to whose command Bonaparte had resigned the army, was
      invited to come from Damietta to Rosetta to confer with the
      General-in-Chief on affairs of extreme importance. Bonaparte, in making an
      appointment which he never intended to keep, hoped to escape the unwelcome
      freedom of Kléber's reproaches. He afterwards wrote to him all he had to
      say; and the cause he assigned for not keeping his appointment was, that
      his fear of being observed by the English cruisers had forced him to
      depart three days earlier than he intended. But when he wrote Bonaparte
      well knew that he would be at sea before Kléber could receive his letter.
      Kléber, in his letter to the Directory, complained bitterly of this
      deception. The singular fate that befell this letter will be seen by and
      by.
    
General Kléber, to whom Bonaparte had handed over command of the army, was invited to travel from Damietta to Rosetta to discuss very important matters with the General-in-Chief. Bonaparte, by making an appointment he never planned to keep, hoped to avoid the uncomfortable freedom of Kléber's criticisms. He later wrote to him everything he needed to say, claiming that his fear of being spotted by English cruisers forced him to leave three days earlier than expected. But when he wrote this, Bonaparte knew he would be at sea before Kléber received his letter. In his letter to the Directory, Kléber expressed his frustration over this deception. The unusual fate of this letter will be revealed soon.








 


 




















      CHAPTER XXI
    



      1799.
    
1799.


   Our departure from Egypt—Nocturnal embarkation—M. Parseval
   Grandmaison—On course—Adverse winds—Fear of the English—
   Favourable weather—Vingt-et-un—Chess—We land at Ajaccio—
   Bonaparte's pretended relations—Family domains—Want of money—
   Battle of Novi—Death of Joubert—Visionary schemes—Purchase of a
   boat—Departure from Corsica—The English squadron—Our escape—
   The roads of Fréjus—Our landing in France—The plague or the
   Austrians—Joy of the people—The sanitary laws—Bonaparte falsely
   accused.

   Our departure from Egypt—Nighttime embarkation—M. Parseval Grandmaison—On course—Strong winds—Fear of the English—Good weather—Twenty-one—Chess—We arrive at Ajaccio—Bonaparte's supposed relatives—Family estates—Lack of funds—Battle of Novi—Death of Joubert—Dreamy plans—Buying a boat—Leaving Corsica—The English fleet—Our escape—The waters of Fréjus—Our arrival in France—The plague or the Austrians—People's joy—Health regulations—Bonaparte wrongly accused.







      We were now to return to our country—again to cross the sea, to us
      so pregnant with danger—Caesar and his fortune were once more to
      embark. But Caesar was not now advancing to the East to add Egypt to the
      conquests of the Republic. He was revolving in his mind vast schemes,
      unawed by the idea of venturing everything to chance in his own favour the
      Government for which he had fought. The hope of conquering the most
      celebrated country of the East no longer excited the imagination, as on
      our departure from France. Our last visionary dream had vanished before
      the walls of St. Jean d'Acre, and we were leaving on the burning sands of
      Egypt most of our companions in arms. An inconceivable destiny seemed to
      urge us on, and we were obliged to obey its decrees.
    
We were now headed back to our country—crossing the sea again, which was so full of danger for us—Caesar and his fortune were set to embark once more. But Caesar wasn't heading East to add Egypt to the Republic's conquests this time. He was contemplating grand plans, unafraid to gamble everything for the Government he had fought for. The dream of conquering the most famous country in the East no longer thrilled us as it did when we left France. Our last hopeful vision had faded away before the walls of St. Jean d'Acre, and we were leaving behind most of our fellow soldiers on the burning sands of Egypt. An unimaginable fate seemed to push us forward, and we had no choice but to follow its orders.







      On the 23d of August we embarked on board two frigates, the 'Muiron'
    
On August 23rd, we boarded two frigates, the 'Muiron'






 —[Named after Bonaparte's aide de camp killed in the Italian
   campaign]— 
—[Named after Bonaparte's aide-de-camp who was killed in the Italian campaign]—







      and 'Carrère'. Our number was between four and five hundred. Such was our
      squadron, and such the formidable army with which Bonaparte had resolved,
      as he wrote to the divan of Cairo, "to annihilate all his enemies." This
      boasting might impose on those who did not see the real state of things;
      but what were we to think of it? What Bonaparte himself thought the day
      after.
    
and 'Carrère'. Our number was between four and five hundred. That was our squadron, and that was the powerful army with which Bonaparte had decided, as he wrote to the divan of Cairo, "to destroy all his enemies." This bragging might fool those who didn’t see the actual situation; but what were we supposed to think about it? What Bonaparte himself thought the day after.







      The night was dark when we embarked in the frigates which lay at a
      considerable distance from the port of Alexandria; but by the faint light
      of the stars we perceived a corvette, which appeared to be observing our
      silent nocturnal embarkation.
    
The night was dark when we set off in the frigates moored far from the port of Alexandria; but by the dim light of the stars, we noticed a corvette that seemed to be watching our quiet nighttime departure.






 —[The horses of the escort had been left to run loose on the beach,
   and all was perfect stillness in Alexandria, when the advanced posts
   of the town were alarmed by the wild galloping of horses, which from
   a natural instinct, were returning to Alexandria through the desert.
   The picket ran to arms on seeing horses ready saddled and bridled,
   which were soon discovered to belong to the regiment of guides.
   They at first thought that a misfortune had happened to some
   detachment in its pursuit of the Arabs. With these horses came also
   those of the generals who had embarked with General Bonaparte; so
   that Alexandria was for a time in considerable alarm. The cavalry
   was ordered to proceed in all haste in the direction whence the
   horses came, and every one was giving himself up to the most gloomy
   conjectures, when the cavalry returned to the city with the Turkish
   groom, who was bringing back General Bonaparte's horse to Alexandria
   (Memoirs of the Duc de Rovigo, tome i. p. 182).]— 
 —[The escort's horses had been left to roam freely on the beach, and all was perfectly still in Alexandria when the town's lookout was startled by the frantic galloping of horses, instinctively making their way back to Alexandria through the desert. The guards quickly got ready when they saw the saddled and bridled horses, soon realizing they belonged to the guides' regiment. Initially, they feared that something terrible had happened to a unit chasing the Arabs. Along with these horses came those of the generals who had sailed with General Bonaparte, causing a significant alarm in Alexandria for a while. The cavalry was ordered to rush toward where the horses had come from, and everyone was consumed by the darkest speculations. However, the cavalry eventually returned to the city with the Turkish groom, who was bringing back General Bonaparte's horse to Alexandria (Memoirs of the Duc de Rovigo, tome i. p. 182).]—







      Next morning, just as we were on the point of setting sail, we saw, coming
      from the port of Alexandria a boat, on board of which was M. Parseval
      Grandmaison. This excellent man, who was beloved by all of us, was not
      included among the persons whose return to France had been determined by
      the General-in-Chief. In his anxiety to get off Bonaparte would not hear
      of taking him on board. It will readily be conceived how urgent were the
      entreaties of Parseval; but he would have sued in vain had not Gantheaume,
      Monge, Berthollet, and I interceded for him. With some difficulty we
      overcame Bonaparte's resistance, and our colleague of the Egyptian
      Institute got on board after the wind had filled our sails.
    
The next morning, just as we were about to set sail, we spotted a boat coming from the port of Alexandria, and on it was M. Parseval Grandmaison. This wonderful man, who was loved by all of us, wasn't among those the General-in-Chief had decided would return to France. In his eagerness to leave, Bonaparte wouldn't consider taking him on board. It's easy to imagine how desperately Parseval pleaded; however, he would have been unsuccessful without the support of Gantheaume, Monge, Berthollet, and me. After some effort, we managed to convince Bonaparte to change his mind, and our colleague from the Egyptian Institute boarded just as the wind filled our sails.







      It has been erroneously said that Admiral Gantheaume had full control of
      the frigates, as if any one could command when Bonaparte was present. On
      the contrary, Bonaparte declared to the admiral, in my hearing, that he
      would not take the ordinary course and get into the open sea. "Keep close
      along the coast of the Mediterranean," said he, "on the African side,
      until you get south of Sardinia. I have here a handful of brave fellows
      and a few pieces of artillery; if the English should appear I will run
      ashore, and with my party, make my way by land to Oran, Tunis, or some
      other port, whence we may find an opportunity of getting home." This was
      his irrevocable determination.
    
It has been incorrectly stated that Admiral Gantheaume had complete control of the frigates, as if anyone could command when Bonaparte was around. On the contrary, Bonaparte told the admiral, in my presence, that he wouldn’t follow the usual path and head into open sea. "Stay close along the coast of the Mediterranean," he said, "on the African side, until you’re south of Sardinia. I have a handful of brave men and a few pieces of artillery; if the English appear, I’ll go ashore, and with my group, make my way by land to Oran, Tunis, or another port, from where we can find a way to get home." This was his firm decision.







      For twenty-one days adverse winds, blowing from west or north-west, drove
      us continually on the coast of Syria, or in the direction of Alexandria.
      At one time it was even proposed that we should again put into the port;
      but Bonaparte declared he would rather brave every danger than do so.
      During the day we tacked to a certain distance northward, and in the
      evening we stood towards Africa, until we came within sight of the coast.
      Finally after no less than twenty-one days of impatience and
      disappointment, a favourable east wind carried us past that point of
      Africa on which Carthage formerly stood, and we soon doubled Sardinia. We
      kept very near the western coast of that island, where Bonaparte had
      determined to land in case of our falling in with the English squadron.
      From thence his plan was to reach Corsica, and there to await a favourable
      opportunity of returning to France.
    
For twenty-one days, strong winds from the west or northwest kept pushing us along the coast of Syria or towards Alexandria. There was even a suggestion that we should dock at the port again, but Bonaparte insisted he would face any danger instead. During the day, we navigated a bit north, and in the evening, we headed towards Africa until we spotted the coast. Finally, after an exhausting twenty-one days filled with impatience and disappointment, a favorable east wind carried us past the point of Africa where Carthage used to be, and we soon rounded Sardinia. We stayed close to the western coast of that island, where Bonaparte planned to land if we encountered the English squadron. From there, his strategy was to reach Corsica and wait for a good chance to return to France.







      Everything had contributed to render our voyage dull and monotonous; and,
      besides, we were not entirely without uneasiness as to the steps which
      might be taken by the Directory, for it was certain that the publication
      of the intercepted correspondence must have occasioned many unpleasant
      disclosures. Bonaparte used often to walk on deck to superintend the
      execution of his orders. The smallest sail that appeared in view excited
      his alarm.
    
Everything made our journey boring and repetitive; plus, we were somewhat anxious about the actions the Directory might take, since it was clear that the publication of the intercepted messages would lead to many uncomfortable revelations. Bonaparte often walked on deck to oversee the execution of his orders. Even the slightest sail that appeared in sight made him anxious.







      The fear of falling into the hands of the English never forsook him. That
      was what he dreaded most of all, and yet, at a subsequent period, he
      trusted to the generosity of his enemies.
    
The fear of falling into the hands of the English never left him. That was what he feared most of all, and yet, later on, he relied on the kindness of his enemies.







      However, in spite of our well-founded alarm, there were some moments in
      which we sought to amuse ourselves, or, to use a common expression, to
      kill time. Cards afforded us a source of recreation, and even this
      frivolous amusement served to develop the character of Bonaparte. In
      general he was not fond of cards; but if he did play, vingt-et-un was his
      favourite game, because it is more rapid than many others, and because, in
      short, it afforded him an opportunity of cheating. For example, he would
      ask for a card; if it proved a bad one he would say nothing, but lay it
      down on the table and wait till the dealer had drawn his. If the dealer
      produced a good card, then Bonaparte would throw aside his hand, without
      showing it, and give up his stake. If, on the contrary, the dealer's card
      made him exceed twenty-one, Bonaparte also threw his cards aside without
      showing them, and asked for the payment of his stake. He was much diverted
      by these little tricks, especially when they were played off undetected;
      and I confess that even then we were courtiers enough to humour him, and
      wink at his cheating. I must, however, mention that he never appropriated
      to himself the fruit of these little dishonesties, for at the end of the
      game he gave up all his winnings, and they were equally divided. Gain, as
      may readily be supposed, was not his object; but he always expected that
      fortune would grant him an ace or a ten at the right moment with the same
      confidence with which he looked for fine weather on the day of battle. If
      he were disappointed he wished nobody to know it.
    
However, despite our justified concern, there were times when we tried to entertain ourselves, or, as people often say, kill time. Playing cards became a source of enjoyment for us, and even this light-hearted pastime helped to shape Bonaparte's character. Generally, he wasn’t a big fan of cards, but when he did play, vingt-et-un was his favorite game because it’s faster than many others and it gave him a chance to cheat. For instance, he would ask for a card; if it was a bad one, he wouldn’t say anything, just place it on the table and wait for the dealer to draw. If the dealer got a good card, Bonaparte would discard his hand without showing it and forfeit his stake. On the other hand, if the dealer’s card caused him to bust, Bonaparte would also discard his cards without revealing them and demand to be paid his stake. He found a lot of amusement in these little tricks, especially when he got away with them; and I admit that we were compliant enough to play along and overlook his cheating. I should note, however, that he never kept the profits from these small deceptions; at the end of the game, he would surrender all his winnings, and they would be split evenly. Clearly, making money wasn’t his goal; he always expected that luck would bring him an ace or a ten at just the right moment, much like he confidently anticipated good weather on the day of a battle. If he were let down, he didn't want anyone to know.







      Bonaparte also played at chess, but very seldom, because he was only a
      third-rate player, and he did not like to be beaten at that game, which, I
      know not why, is said to bear a resemblance to the grand game of war. At
      this latter game Bonaparte certainly feared no adversary. This reminds me
      that when we were leaving Passeriano he announced his intention of passing
      through Mantua. He was told that the commandant of that town, I believe
      General Beauvoir, was a great chess-player, and he expressed a wish to
      play a game with him. General Beauvoir asked him to point out any
      particular pawn with which he would be checkmated; adding, that if the
      pawn were taken, he, Bonaparte, should be declared the winner. Bonaparte
      pointed out the last pawn on the left of his adversary. A mark was put
      upon it, and it turned out that he actually was checkmated with that very
      pawn. Bonaparte was not very well pleased at this. He liked to play with
      me because, though rather a better player than himself, I was not always
      able to beat him. As soon as a game was decided in his favour he declined
      playing any longer, preferring to rest on his laurels.
    
Bonaparte also played chess, but he did so very rarely because he was only an average player, and he didn’t like losing at that game, which, for some reason, is said to resemble the grand strategy of war. In that latter game, Bonaparte certainly feared no opponent. This reminds me that when we were leaving Passeriano, he announced his plan to pass through Mantua. He was informed that the commander of that city, General Beauvoir, was a skilled chess player, and he expressed a desire to play a game with him. General Beauvoir asked him to choose a specific pawn with which he would be checkmated, adding that if that pawn were taken, Bonaparte would be declared the winner. Bonaparte pointed to the last pawn on the left of his opponent. A mark was placed on it, and it turned out that he was indeed checkmated with that very pawn. Bonaparte wasn’t pleased about this. He enjoyed playing with me because, while I was a slightly better player, I couldn’t always beat him. Once a game was won in his favor, he would stop playing, choosing to rest on his laurels.







      The favourable wind which had constantly prevailed after the first twenty
      days of our voyage still continued while we kept along the coast of
      Sardinia; but after we had passed that island the wind again blew
      violently from the west, and on the 1st of October we were forced to enter
      the Gulf of Ajaccio. We sailed again next day but we found it impossible
      to work our way out of the gulf. We were therefore obliged to put into the
      port and land at Ajaccio. Adverse winds obliged us to remain there until
      the 7th of October. It may readily be imagined how much this delay annoyed
      Bonaparte. He sometimes expressed his impatience, as if he could enforce
      the obedience of the elements as well as of men. He was losing time, and
      time was everything to him.
    
The favorable wind that had consistently been with us for the first twenty days of our journey still held as we traveled along the coast of Sardinia; however, after we passed the island, the wind picked up significantly from the west, and on October 1st, we had to enter the Gulf of Ajaccio. The next day we tried to leave but found it impossible to navigate out of the gulf. As a result, we had to dock and land at Ajaccio. The unfavorable winds meant we had to stay there until October 7th. It’s easy to imagine how much this delay frustrated Bonaparte. He sometimes showed his impatience, as if he could command the weather just like he did with people. He was running out of time, and time was everything to him.







      There was one circumstance which seemed to annoy him as much as any of his
      more serious vexations. "What will become of me," said he, "if the
      English, who are cruising hereabout, should learn that I have landed in
      Corsica? I shall be forced to stay here. That I could never endure. I have
      a torrent of relations pouring upon me." His great reputation had
      certainly prodigiously augmented the number of his family. He was
      overwhelmed with visits, congratulations, and requests. The whole town was
      in a commotion. Every one of its inhabitants wished to claim him as their
      cousin; and from the prodigious number of his pretended godsons and
      goddaughters, it might have been supposed that he had held one-fourth of
      the children of Ajaccio at the baptismal font.
    
There was one situation that seemed to frustrate him just as much as his more serious problems. “What will happen to me,” he said, “if the English ships cruising nearby find out I’ve landed in Corsica? I’ll be stuck here. I can’t stand that. I have a flood of relatives coming at me.” His impressive reputation had definitely increased the number of his family members significantly. He was bombarded with visits, congratulations, and requests. The whole town was in an uproar. Every resident wanted to claim him as their cousin; and given the enormous number of his supposed godsons and goddaughters, one could have assumed he had baptized a quarter of the children in Ajaccio.







      Bonaparte frequently walked with us in the neighbourhood of Ajaccio; and
      when in all the plenitude of his power he did not count his crowns with
      greater pleasure than he evinced in pointing out to us the little domains
      of his ancestors.
    
Bonaparte often walked with us around Ajaccio, and when he was at the height of his power, he took more pleasure in showing us the small estates of his ancestors than he did in counting his crowns.







      While we were at Ajaccio M. Fesch gave Bonaparte French money in exchange
      for a number of Turkish sequins, amounting in value to 17,000 francs. This
      sum was all that the General brought with him from Egypt. I mention this
      fact because he was unjustly calumniated in letters written after his
      departure, and which were intercepted and published by the English. I
      ought also to add, that as he would never for his own private use resort
      to the money-chest of the army, the contents of which were, indeed, never
      half sufficient to defray the necessary expenses, he several times drew on
      Genoa, through M. James, and on the funds he possessed in the house of
      Clary, 16,000, 25,000, and up to 33,000 francs. I can bear witness that in
      Egypt I never saw him touch any money beyond his pay; and that he left the
      country poorer than he had entered it is a fact that cannot be denied. In
      his notes on Egypt it appears that in one year 12,600,000 francs were
      received. In this sum were included at least 2,000,000 of contributions,
      which were levied at the expense of many decapitations. Bonaparte was
      fourteen months in Egypt, and he is said to have brought away with him
      20,000,000. Calumny may be very gratifying to certain persons, but they
      should at least give it a colouring of probability. The fact is, that
      Bonaparte had scarcely enough to maintain himself at Ajaccio and to defray
      our posting expenses to Paris.
    
While we were in Ajaccio, M. Fesch gave Bonaparte French money in exchange for a number of Turkish sequins worth 17,000 francs. This was all the General brought back from Egypt. I mention this because he was unfairly slandered in letters written after his departure, which were intercepted and published by the English. I should also add that he never used the army's funds for his own personal expenses, and since those funds were never enough to cover necessary costs, he often drew on Genoa through M. James, and on the money he had at the Clary house, amounts like 16,000, 25,000, and up to 33,000 francs. I can attest that during my time in Egypt, I never saw him handle any money beyond his salary, and the fact that he left the country poorer than he came is undeniable. In his notes on Egypt, he mentioned that in one year, 12,600,000 francs were received. This total included at least 2,000,000 in contributions, which were collected at the cost of many decapitations. Bonaparte spent fourteen months in Egypt, and it’s said he brought back 20,000,000. While slander might please certain individuals, it should at least have some level of plausibility. The truth is, Bonaparte barely had enough to support himself in Ajaccio and to cover our travel expenses to Paris.







      On our arrival at Ajaccio we learnt the death of Joubert, and the loss of
      the battle of Novi, which was fought on the 15th of August. Bonaparte was
      tormented by anxiety; he was in a state of utter uncertainty as to the
      future. From the time we left Alexandria till our arrival in Corsica he
      had frequently talked of what he should do during the quarantine, which he
      supposed he would be required to observe on reaching Toulon, the port at
      which he had determined to land.
    
Upon our arrival in Ajaccio, we learned about Joubert's death and the loss at the Battle of Novi, which took place on August 15th. Bonaparte was consumed by anxiety; he was completely uncertain about what lay ahead. From the time we left Alexandria until we arrived in Corsica, he often discussed what he would do during the quarantine that he expected to face upon reaching Toulon, the port where he planned to land.







      Even then he cherished some illusions respecting the state of affairs; and
      he often said to me, "But for that confounded quarantine, I would hasten
      ashore, and place myself at the head of the army of Italy. All is not
      over; and I am sure that there is not a general who would refuse me the
      command. The news of a victory gained by me would reach Paris as soon as
      the battle of Aboukir; that, indeed, would be excellent."
    
Even then, he held on to some misconceptions about the situation, and he often told me, "If it weren't for that damn quarantine, I would rush ashore and take charge of the army of Italy. It's not over yet, and I'm confident that no general would deny me the command. News of a victory I achieved would reach Paris as quickly as the news of the Battle of Aboukir; that would be fantastic."







      In Corsica his language was very different. When he was informed of our
      reverses, and saw the full extent of the evil, he was for a moment
      overwhelmed. His grand projects then gave way to the consideration of
      matters of minor import, and he thought about his detention in the
      Lazaretto of Toulon. He spoke of the Directory, of intrigues, and of what
      would be said of him. He accounted his enemies those who envied him, and
      those who could not be reconciled to his glory and the influence of his
      name. Amidst all these anxieties Bonaparte was outwardly calm, though he
      was moody and reflective.
    
In Corsica, his language was quite different. When he learned about our setbacks and saw how serious the situation was, he felt overwhelmed for a moment. His grand plans shifted to focus on smaller issues, and he began to think about his confinement in the Lazaretto of Toulon. He talked about the Directory, intrigues, and what people would say about him. He viewed his enemies as those who envied him and couldn’t accept his success and the power of his name. Despite all these worries, Bonaparte appeared outwardly calm, though he was actually deep in thought and somewhat moody.







      Providing against every chance of danger, he had purchased at Ajaccio a
      large launch which was intended to be towed by the 'Muiron', and it was
      manned by twelve of the best sailors the island could furnish. His
      resolution was, in case of inevitable danger, to jump into this boat and
      get ashore. This precaution had well-nigh proved useful.
    
To prepare for every possible risk, he bought a large launch in Ajaccio that was meant to be towed by the 'Muiron,' and it was crewed by twelve of the best sailors the island could provide. His plan was to jump into this boat and get to shore in case of unavoidable danger. This precaution nearly came in handy.






 —[Sir Walter Scott, at the commencement of his Life of Napoleon,
   says that Bonaparte did not see his native City after 1793.
   Probably to avoid contradicting himself, the Scottish historian
   observes that Bonaparte was near Ajaccio on his return from Egypt.
   He spent eight days there.—Bourrienne.]— 
 —[Sir Walter Scott, at the beginning of his Life of Napoleon, mentions that Bonaparte didn't see his hometown after 1793. To avoid being inconsistent, the Scottish historian points out that Bonaparte was close to Ajaccio on his way back from Egypt. He stayed there for eight days.—Bourrienne.]—







      After leaving the Gulf of Ajaccio the voyage was prosperous and
      undisturbed for one day; but on the second day, just at sunset, an English
      squadron of fourteen sail hove in sight. The English, having advantage of
      the lights which we had in our faces, saw us better than we could see
      them. They recognised our two frigates as Venetian built; but luckily for
      us, night came on, for we were not far apart. We saw the signals of the
      English for a long time, and heard the report of the guns more and more to
      our left, and we thought it was the intention of the cruisers to intercept
      us on the south-east. Under these circumstances Bonaparte had reason to
      thank fortune; for it is very evident that had the English suspected our
      two frigates of coming from the East and going to France, they would have
      shut us out from land by running between us and it, which to them was very
      easy. Probably they took us for a convoy of provisions going from Toulon
      to Genoa; and it was to this error and the darkness that we were indebted
      for escaping with no worse consequence than a fright.
    
After leaving the Gulf of Ajaccio, the journey was smooth and uninterrupted for one day. However, on the second day, just at sunset, a British squadron of fourteen ships appeared on the horizon. The British, having the advantage of the lights shining in our faces, could see us better than we could see them. They recognized our two frigates as being built in Venice; but fortunately for us, night fell soon after, and we were not far apart. We watched their signals for a long time and heard the sound of their guns moving further to our left, and we thought the cruisers intended to intercept us to the southeast. Given these circumstances, Bonaparte had good reason to be grateful to chance; for it's clear that if the British had suspected our two frigates were coming from the East to France, they would have easily blocked our path to land by moving between us and it. They likely mistook us for a supply convoy traveling from Toulon to Genoa; and it was due to this misunderstanding and the cover of darkness that we managed to escape with nothing worse than a scare.






 —[Here Bourrienne says in a note "Where did Sir Walter Scott learn
   that we were neither seen nor recognised? We were not recognised,
   but certainly seen," This is corroborated by the testimony of the
   Duc de Rovigo, who, in his Memoirs, says, "I have met officers of
   the English navy who assured me that the two frigates had been seen
   but were considered by the Admiral to belong to his squadron, as
   they steered their course towards him; and as he knew we had only
   one frigate in the Mediterranean, and one in Toulon harbour, he was
   far from supposing that the frigates which he had descried could
   have General Bonaparte on board." (Savary, tome i. p. 226).]— 
—[Here Bourrienne notes, "Where did Sir Walter Scott get the idea that we were neither seen nor recognized? We were not recognized, but we were definitely seen." This is supported by the Duc de Rovigo's account, who, in his Memoirs, states, "I've met officers from the English navy who told me that the two frigates had been spotted but were thought by the Admiral to belong to his squadron, since they were heading towards him; and since he knew we only had one frigate in the Mediterranean and one in Toulon harbor, he had no reason to think that the frigates he saw could have General Bonaparte on board." (Savary, tome i. p. 226).]—







      During the remainder of the night the utmost agitation prevailed on board
      the Muiron. Gantheaume especially was in a state of anxiety which it is
      impossible to describe, and which it was painful to witness: he was quite
      beside himself, for a disaster appeared inevitable. He proposed to return
      to Corsica. "No, no!" replied Bonaparte imperiously. "No! Spread all sail!
      Every man at his post! To the north-west! To the north-west!" This order
      saved us; and I am enabled to affirm that in the midst of almost general
      alarm Bonaparte was solely occupied in giving orders. The rapidity of his
      judgment seemed to grow in the face of danger. The remembrance of that
      night will never be effaced from my mind. The hours lingered on; and none
      of us could guess upon what new dangers the morrow's sun would shine.
    
Throughout the rest of the night, there was extreme agitation on board the Muiron. Gantheaume, in particular, was so anxious that it was impossible to describe and painful to watch; he was completely beside himself, as a disaster seemed unavoidable. He suggested returning to Corsica. "No, no!" Bonaparte replied firmly. "No! Set all sails! Every man at his station! Head north-west! North-west!" This command saved us, and I can affirm that despite the widespread panic, Bonaparte was completely focused on issuing orders. His ability to make quick decisions seemed to sharpen in the face of danger. I will never forget that night. The hours dragged on, and none of us could predict what new dangers the next day's sun would reveal.







      However, Bonaparte's resolution was taken: his orders were given, his
      arrangements made. During the evening he had resolved upon throwing
      himself into the long boat; he had already fixed on the persons who were
      to share his fate, and had already named to me the papers which he thought
      it most important to save. Happily our terrors were vain and our
      arrangements useless. By the first rays of the sun we discovered the
      English fleet sailing to the north-east, and we stood for the wished-for
      coast of France.
    
However, Bonaparte had made up his mind: his orders were given, and his plans were set. That evening, he decided to jump into the longboat; he had already chosen the people who would share his fate and had told me which documents he thought were most important to save. Luckily, our fears were unfounded, and our plans were unnecessary. By the first light of dawn, we spotted the English fleet heading northeast, and we moved toward the desired coast of France.







      The 8th of October, at eight in the morning, we entered the roads of
      Fréjus. The sailors not having recognised the coast during the night, we
      did not know where we were. There was, at first, some hesitation whether
      we should advance. We were by no means expected, and did not know how to
      answer the signals, which has been changed during our absence. Some guns
      were even fired upon us by the batteries on the coast; but our bold entry
      into the roads, the crowd upon the decks of the two frigates, and our
      signs of joy, speedily banished all doubt of our being friends. We were in
      the port, and approaching the landing-place, when the rumour spread that
      Bonaparte was on board one of the frigates. In an instant the sea was
      covered with boats. In vain we begged them to keep at a distance; we were
      carried ashore, and when we told the crowd, both of men and women who were
      pressing about us, the risk they ran, they all exclaimed, "We prefer the
      plague to the Austrians!"
    
On October 8th, at eight in the morning, we entered the harbor of Fréjus. Since the sailors hadn’t recognized the coast during the night, we didn't know where we were. At first, there was some hesitation about whether we should move forward. We weren’t expected at all and didn’t know how to respond to the signals, which had changed during our absence. Some guns were even fired at us by the coastal batteries; however, our bold entrance into the harbor, the crowd on the decks of the two frigates, and our signs of joy quickly removed any doubt about our status as friends. We were in the port, getting closer to the landing area when the rumor spread that Bonaparte was on board one of the frigates. In an instant, the sea was filled with boats. Despite our pleas for them to keep their distance, we were carried ashore, and when we warned the crowd of men and women pressing around us about the danger they faced, they all shouted, "We’d rather take our chances with the plague than the Austrians!"







      What were our feelings when we again set foot on the soil of France I will
      not attempt to describe. Our escape from the dangers that threatened us
      seemed almost miraculous. We had lost twenty days at the beginning of our
      voyage, and at its close had been almost taken by an English squadron.
      Under these circumstances, how rapturously we inhaled the balmy air of
      Provence! Such was our joy, that we were scarcely sensible of the
      disheartening news which arrived from all quarters. At the first moment of
      our arrival, by a spontaneous impulse, we all repeated, with tears in our
      eyes, the beautiful lines which Voltaire has put into the mouth of the
      exile of Sicily.
    
What we felt when we set foot on French soil again is something I won't try to describe. Our escape from the dangers that loomed over us felt almost miraculous. We had lost twenty days at the start of our journey, and at the end, we nearly got caught by an English squadron. Given these circumstances, how joyfully we breathed in the sweet air of Provence! Our happiness was so overwhelming that we barely registered the discouraging news coming from all around us. At the very moment we arrived, we all instinctively recited, with tears in our eyes, the beautiful lines that Voltaire wrote for the Sicilian exile.







      Bonaparte has been reproached with having violated the sanitary laws; but,
      after what I have already stated respecting his intentions, I presume
      there can remain no doubt of the falsehood of this accusation. All the
      blame must rest with the inhabitants of Fréjus, who on this occasion found
      the law of necessity more imperious than the sanitary laws. Yet when it is
      considered that four or five hundred persons, and a quantity of effects,
      were landed from Alexandria, where the plague had been raging during the
      summer, it is almost a miracle that France, and indeed Europe escaped the
      scourge.
    
Bonaparte has been accused of violating health laws; however, based on what I've said about his intentions, I believe it's clear that this accusation is false. The blame should fall on the people of Fréjus, who, in this case, prioritized urgent needs over health regulations. Still, considering that four to five hundred people, along with a lot of belongings, were brought in from Alexandria, where the plague had been widespread during the summer, it's almost miraculous that France, and Europe as a whole, avoided the outbreak.








 


 




















      CHAPTER XXII.
    



      1799.
    
1799.


   Effect produced by Bonaparte's return—His justification—
   Melancholy letter to my wife—Bonaparte's intended dinner at Sens—
   Louis Bonaparte and Josephine—He changes his intended route—
   Melancholy situation of the provinces—Necessity of a change—
   Bonaparte's ambitious views—Influence of popular applause—
   Arrival in Paris—His reception of Josephine—Their reconciliation—
   Bonaparte's visit to the Directory—His contemptuous treatment of
   Sieyès.

   Effect produced by Bonaparte's return—His justification—  
   Sad letter to my wife—Bonaparte's planned dinner in Sens—  
   Louis Bonaparte and Josephine—He alters his planned route—  
   Grim situation in the provinces—Need for a change—  
   Bonaparte's ambitious goals—Impact of public approval—  
   Arrival in Paris—His meeting with Josephine—Their reconciliation—  
   Bonaparte's visit to the Directory—His scornful treatment of Sieyès.







      The effect produced in France and throughout Europe by the mere
      intelligence of Bonaparte's return is well known. I shall not yet speak of
      the vast train of consequences which that event entailed. I must, however,
      notice some accusations which were brought against him from the time of
      our landing to the 9th of November. He was reproached for having left
      Egypt, and it was alleged that his departure was the result of long
      premeditation. But I, who was constantly with him, am enabled positively
      to affirm that his return to France was merely the effect of a sudden
      resolution. Of this the following fact is in itself sufficient evidence.
    
The impact of Bonaparte's return on France and all of Europe is widely recognized. I won't yet discuss the extensive consequences that followed this event. However, I must address some accusations that were directed at him from the time we landed until November 9th. He was criticized for leaving Egypt, with claims that his departure was planned for a long time. But I, who was always by his side, can confidently say that his return to France was simply a spur-of-the-moment decision. The following fact is clear proof of this.







      While we were at Cairo, a few days before we heard of the landing of the
      Anglo-Turkish fleet, and at the moment when we were on the point of
      setting off to encamp at the Pyramids, Bonaparte despatched a courier to
      France. I took advantage of this opportunity to write to my wife. I almost
      bade her an eternal adieu. My letter breathed expressions of grief such as
      I had not before evinced. I said, among other things, that we knew not
      when or how it would be possible for us to return to France. If Bonaparte
      had then entertained any thought of a speedy return I must have known it,
      and in that case I should not certainly have distressed my family by a
      desponding letter, when I had not had an opportunity of writing for seven
      months before.
    
While we were in Cairo, a few days before we learned about the landing of the Anglo-Turkish fleet, and just as we were about to set off to camp at the Pyramids, Bonaparte sent a courier to France. I took this chance to write to my wife. I nearly said goodbye forever. My letter was filled with expressions of sadness that I hadn't shown before. I mentioned, among other things, that we didn’t know when or how we would be able to return to France. If Bonaparte had any thoughts of returning soon, I would have known about it, and in that case, I definitely wouldn’t have worried my family with a gloomy letter after not being able to write for seven months.







      Two days after the receipt of my letter my wife was awoke very early in
      the morning to be informed of our arrival in France. The courier who
      brought this intelligence was the bearer of a second letter from me, which
      I had written on board ship, and dated from Fréjus. In this letter I
      mentioned that Bonaparte would pass through Sens and dine with my mother.
    
Two days after my letter arrived, my wife was woken up very early in the morning to hear that we had arrived in France. The courier who delivered this news also brought a second letter from me, which I had written on the ship and dated from Fréjus. In this letter, I mentioned that Bonaparte would be passing through Sens and having dinner with my mother.







      In fulfilment of my directions Madame de Bourrienne set off for Paris at
      five in the morning. Having passed the first post-house she met a Berlin
      containing four travellers, among whom she recognised Louis Bonaparte
      going to meet the General on the Lyons road. On seeing Madame de
      Bourrienne Louis desired the postillion to stop, and asked her whether she
      had heard from me. She informed him that we should pass through Sens,
      where the General wished to dine with my mother, who had made every
      preparation for receiving him. Louis then continued his journey. About
      nine o'clock my wife met another Berlin, in which were Madame Bonaparte
      and her daughter. As they were asleep, and both carriages were driving at
      a very rapid rate, Madame de Bourrienne did not stop them. Josephine
      followed the route taken by Louis. Both missed the General, who changed
      his mind at Lyons, and proceeded by way of Bourbonnais. He arrived fifteen
      hours after my wife; and those who had taken the Burgundy road proceeded
      to Lyons uselessly.
    
Following my instructions, Madame de Bourrienne left for Paris at five in the morning. After passing the first post-house, she encountered a carriage containing four travelers, among whom she recognized Louis Bonaparte, who was on his way to meet the General on the road to Lyon. When he saw Madame de Bourrienne, Louis asked the driver to stop and inquired if she had heard from me. She informed him that we were planning to pass through Sens, where the General wanted to have dinner with my mother, who had made all the necessary preparations to welcome him. Louis then went on his way. Around nine o'clock, my wife ran into another carriage with Madame Bonaparte and her daughter inside. Since they were asleep and both carriages were moving very quickly, Madame de Bourrienne didn’t stop them. Josephine took the same route as Louis. Both missed the General, who changed his plans in Lyon and went through Bourbonnais instead. He arrived fifteen hours after my wife, and those who had taken the Burgundy route went to Lyon in vain.







      Determined to repair in all haste to Paris, Bonaparte had left Fréjus on
      the afternoon of the day of our landing. He himself had despatched the
      courier to Sens to inform my mother of his intended visit to her; and it
      was not until he got to Lyons that he determined to take the Bourbonnais
      road. His reason for doing so will presently be seen. All along the road,
      at Aix, at Lyons, in every town and village, he was received, as at
      Fréjus, with the most rapturous demonstrations of joy.
    
Determined to quickly get to Paris, Bonaparte left Fréjus on the afternoon of our landing. He had personally sent a courier to Sens to let my mother know about his planned visit; it wasn't until he reached Lyons that he decided to take the Bourbonnais road. The reason for this choice will become clear soon. Along the way, in Aix, in Lyons, and in every town and village, he was greeted, just as in Fréjus, with overwhelming displays of joy.






 —[From Fréjus to Aix a crowd of men kindly escorted us, carrying
   torches alongside the carriage of the General, not so much to show
   their enthusiasm as to ensure our safety (Bourrienne) These brigands
   became so bad in France that at one time soldiers were placed in the
   imperials of all the diligences, receiving from the wits the
   curiously anticipative name of "imperial armies".]— 
 —[From Fréjus to Aix, a group of men kindly accompanied us, holding torches alongside the General's carriage, not so much to express their enthusiasm but to guarantee our safety (Bourrienne). These criminals became such a problem in France that at one point, soldiers were stationed in the compartments of all the stagecoaches, earning the cleverly ironic nickname of "imperial armies".]—







      Only those who witnessed his triumphal journey can form any notion of it;
      and it required no great discernment to foresee something like the 18th
      Brumaire.
    
Only those who saw his triumphant journey can have any idea of it; and it didn't take much insight to predict something like the 18th Brumaire.







      The provinces, a prey to anarchy and civil war, were continually
      threatened with foreign invasion. Almost all the south presented the
      melancholy spectacle of one vast arena of conflicting factions. The nation
      groaned beneath the yoke of tyrannical laws; despotism was systematically
      established; the law of hostages struck a blow at personal liberty, and
      forced loans menaced every man's property. The generality of the citizens
      had declared themselves against a pentarchy devoid of power, justice, and
      morality, and which had become the sport of faction and intrigue. Disorder
      was general; but in the provinces abuses were felt more sensibly than
      elsewhere. In great cities it was found more easy to elude the hand of
      despotism and oppression.
    
The provinces, plagued by chaos and civil war, were always at risk of foreign invasion. Most of the south resembled a large battleground filled with opposing factions. The nation suffered under harsh and unjust laws; tyranny was firmly in place; the law regarding hostages undermined personal freedom, and forced loans threatened everyone’s property. Most citizens had turned against a powerless pentarchy that lacked justice and morality and had fallen victim to factionalism and plots. Disorder was widespread, but the provinces felt the effects of abuses more acutely than other areas. In major cities, it was easier to escape the grip of tyranny and oppression.







      A change so earnestly wished for could not fail to be realised, and to be
      received with transport. The majority of the French people longed to be
      relieved from the situation in which they then stood. There were two
      dangers bar to cope with—anarchy and the Bourbons. Every one felt
      the urgent and indispensable necessity of concentrating the power of the
      Government in a single hand; at the same time maintaining the institutions
      which the spirit of the age demanded, and which France, after having so
      dearly purchased, was now about to lose. The country looked for a man who
      was capable of restoring her to tranquillity; but as yet no such man had
      appeared. A soldier of fortune presented himself, covered with glory; he
      had planted the standard of France on the Capitol and on the Pyramids. The
      whole world acknowledged his superior talent; his character, his courage,
      and his victories had raised him to the very highest rank. His great
      works, his gallant actions, his speeches, and his proclamations ever since
      he had risen to eminence left no doubt of his wish to secure happiness and
      freedom to France, his adopted country. At that critical moment the
      necessity of a temporary dictatorship, which sometimes secures the safety
      of a state, banished all reflections on the consequences of such a power,
      and nobody seemed to think glory incompatible with personal liberty. All
      eyes were therefore directed on the General, whose past conduct guaranteed
      his capability of defending the Republic abroad, and liberty at home,—on
      the General whom his flatterers, and indeed some of his sincere friends,
      styled, "the hero of liberal ideas," the title to which he aspired.
    
A change that everyone desperately wanted was bound to happen and would be welcomed with enthusiasm. Most of the French people were eager to escape their current situation. They faced two major threats—anarchy and the Bourbons. Everyone recognized the urgent need to concentrate government power in one person's hands while also keeping the institutions that the times demanded and that France had fought so hard to achieve, which were now at risk of being lost. The country was looking for someone capable of restoring peace, but so far, that person had not emerged. Then, a successful soldier stepped forward, covered in glory; he had raised the French flag in places like the Capitol and the Pyramids. The whole world recognized his exceptional talent; his character, bravery, and victories had elevated him to the highest ranks. His significant accomplishments, courageous actions, speeches, and proclamations since his rise to prominence showed his genuine desire to bring happiness and freedom to France, his adopted nation. At that crucial moment, the need for a temporary dictatorship, which can sometimes ensure a state's safety, overshadowed any concerns about the implications of such power, and no one seemed to view glory as being at odds with personal freedom. Everyone's attention was focused on the General, whose previous actions assured his ability to defend the Republic abroad and maintain liberty at home—the General whom his admirers, as well as some of his true friends, called "the hero of liberal ideas," a title he aspired to.







      Under every point of view, therefore, he was naturally chosen as the chief
      of a generous nation, confiding to him her destiny, in preference to a
      troop of mean and fanatical hypocrites, who, under the names of
      republicanism and liberty, had reduced France to the most abject slavery.
    
From every angle, he was naturally chosen as the leader of a generous nation, entrusting him with her future over a group of petty and fanatical hypocrites who, under the guise of republicanism and freedom, had plunged France into the deepest kind of slavery.







      Among the schemes which Bonaparte was incessantly revolving in his mind
      may undoubtedly be ranked the project of attaining the head of the French
      Government; but it would be a mistake to suppose that on his return from
      Egypt he had formed any fixed plan. There was something vague in his
      ambitious aspirations; and he was, if I may so express myself, fond of
      building those imaginary edifices called castles in the air. The current
      of events was in accordance with his wishes; and it may truly be said that
      the whole French nation smoothed for Bonaparte the road which led to
      power. Certainly the unanimous plaudits and universal joy which
      accompanied him along a journey of more than 200 leagues must have induced
      him to regard as a national mission that step which was at first prompted
      merely by his wish of meddling with the affairs of the Republic.
    
Among the plans that Bonaparte was constantly considering, one of the most important was definitely the idea of becoming the leader of the French Government; however, it would be a mistake to think that he had a specific plan when he returned from Egypt. His ambitious goals were somewhat unclear, and he was, for lack of a better term, fond of dreaming up those imaginary structures called castles in the air. The course of events aligned with his desires, and it can be genuinely said that the entire French nation paved the way for Bonaparte's rise to power. Undoubtedly, the unanimous cheers and widespread excitement that greeted him during a journey of over 200 leagues must have led him to believe that this move was a national mission, even though it initially stemmed from his desire to get involved in the Republic's affairs.







      This spontaneous burst of popular feeling, unordered and unpaid for,
      loudly proclaimed the grievances of the people, and their hope that the
      man of victory would become their deliverer. The general enthusiasm
      excited by the return of the conqueror of Egypt delighted him to a degree
      which I cannot express, and was, as he has often assured me, a powerful
      stimulus in urging him to the object to which the wishes of France seemed
      to direct him.
    
This sudden wave of popular sentiment, chaotic and unprompted, loudly expressed the people's complaints and their hope that the victorious man would become their savior. The overall excitement generated by the return of the conqueror of Egypt thrilled him beyond words, and was, as he has told me many times, a strong motivation pushing him toward the goal that the wishes of France appeared to lead him to.







      Among people of all classes and opinions an 18th Brumaire was desired and
      expected. Many royalists even believed that a change would prove
      favourable to the King. So ready are we to persuade ourselves of the
      reality of what we wish.
    
Among people of all classes and opinions, an 18th Brumaire was wanted and anticipated. Many royalists even thought that a change would benefit the King. We are so quick to convince ourselves of the reality of what we hope for.







      As soon as it was suspected that Bonaparte would accept the power offered
      him, an outcry was raised about a conspiracy against the Republic, and
      measures were sought for preserving it. But necessity, and indeed, it must
      be confessed, the general feeling of the people, consigned the execution
      of those measures to him who was to subvert the Republic. On his return to
      Paris Bonaparte spoke and acted like a man who felt his own power; he
      cared neither for flattery, dinners, nor balls,—his mind took a
      higher flight.
    
As soon as people suspected that Bonaparte would accept the power being offered to him, there was a big uproar about a conspiracy against the Republic, and plans were made to protect it. However, the reality was that necessity, and honestly, the general sentiment of the people, handed over the execution of those plans to the very person who would overthrow the Republic. Upon his return to Paris, Bonaparte spoke and acted like someone who recognized his own power; he had no interest in flattery, dinners, or parties—his thoughts were focused on something much greater.







      We arrived in Paris on the 24th Vendemiaire (the 16th of October). As yet
      he knew nothing of what was going on; for he had seen neither his wife nor
      his brothers, who were looking for him on the Burgundy road. The news of
      our landing at Fréjus had reached Paris by a telegraphic despatch. Madame
      Bonaparte, who was dining with M. Gohier when that despatch was
      communicated to him, as president of the Directory, immediately set off to
      meet her husband, well knowing how important it was that her first
      interview with him should not be anticipated by his brothers.
    
We arrived in Paris on the 24th Vendemiaire (the 16th of October). At that point, he didn’t know what was happening because he hadn’t seen his wife or his brothers, who were searching for him on the Burgundy road. The news of our arrival at Fréjus had reached Paris through a telegram. Madame Bonaparte, who was having dinner with M. Gohier when that telegram was shared with him as president of the Directory, immediately left to meet her husband, fully aware of how crucial it was that her first meeting with him wasn’t interrupted by his brothers.







      The imprudent communications of Junot at the fountains of Messoudiah will
      be remembered, but, after the first ebullition of jealous rage, all traces
      of that feeling had apparently disappeared. Bonaparte however, was still
      harassed by secret suspicion, and the painful impressions produced by
      Junot were either not entirely effaced or were revived after our arrival
      in Paris. We reached the capital before Josephine returned. The
      recollection of the past, the ill-natured reports of his brothers,
    
The reckless comments from Junot at the fountains of Messoudiah will be remembered, but after the initial outburst of jealous anger, all signs of that emotion seemed to vanish. However, Bonaparte was still troubled by hidden doubts, and the unsettling feelings caused by Junot had either not fully faded or were brought back to the surface after we got to Paris. We arrived in the capital before Josephine came back. The memories of the past, along with the spiteful comments from his brothers,






 —[Joseph Bonaparte remarks on this that Napoleon met Josephine at
   Paris before his brothers arrived there, (Compare d'Abrantès,
   vol. 1, pp. 260-262 and Rémusat, tome i. pp. 147-148.)]— 
—[Joseph Bonaparte notes that Napoleon met Josephine in Paris before his brothers got there, (See d'Abrantès, vol. 1, pp. 260-262 and Rémusat, tome i. pp. 147-148.)]—







      and the exaggeration of facts had irritated Napoleon to the very highest
      pitch, and he received Josephine with studied coldness, and with an air of
      the most cruel indifference. He had no communication with her for three
      days, during which time he frequently spoke to me of suspicions which his
      imagination converted into certainty; and threats of divorce escaped his
      lips with no less vehemence than when we were on the confines of Syria. I
      took upon me the office of conciliator, which I had before discharged with
      success. I represented to him the dangers to be apprehended from the
      publicity and scandal of such an affair; and that the moment when his
      grand views might possibly be realized was not the fit time to entertain
      France and Europe with the details of a charge of adultery. I spoke to him
      of Hortense and Eugène, to whom he was much attached. Reflection, seconded
      by his ardent affection for Josephine, brought about a complete
      reconciliation. After these three days of conjugal misunderstanding their
      happiness was never afterwards disturbed by a similar cause.
    
and the exaggeration of facts had really pushed Napoleon to his limit, and he greeted Josephine with deliberate coldness and an air of cruel indifference. He didn’t communicate with her for three days, during which time he often expressed suspicions that his imagination had turned into certainty; he threatened divorce with as much intensity as when we were on the borders of Syria. I took on the role of mediator, which I had successfully handled before. I pointed out the dangers posed by the publicity and scandal of such a situation and stressed that this was not the right time to burden France and Europe with allegations of adultery, especially when his grand aspirations were within reach. I talked to him about Hortense and Eugène, whom he cared for deeply. After reflecting, combined with his strong feelings for Josephine, he achieved a complete reconciliation. After those three days of marital misunderstanding, their happiness was never again disrupted by a similar issue.






 —[In speaking of the unexpected arrival of Bonaparte and of the
   meeting between him and Josephine, Madame Junot says: "On the 10th
   October Josephine set off to meet her husband, but without knowing
   exactly what road he would take. She thought it likely he would
   come by way of Burgundy, and therefore Louis and she set off for
   Lyons.

   "Madame Bonaparte was a prey to great and well-founded aspersions.
   Whether she was guilty or only imprudent, she was strongly accused
   by the Bonaparte family, who were desirous that Napoleon should
   obtain a divorce. The elder M. de Caulaincourt stated to us his
   apprehensions on this point; but whenever the subject was introduced
   my mother changed the conversation, because, knowing as she did the
   sentiments of the Bonaparte family, she could not reply without
   either committing them or having recourse to falsehood. She knew,
   moreover, the truth of many circumstances which M. de Caulaincourt
   seemed to doubt, and which her situation with respect to Bonaparte
   prevented her from communicating to him.

   "Madame Bonaparte committed a great fault in neglecting at this
   juncture to conciliate her mother-in-law, who might have protected
   her against those who sought her ruin and effected it nine years
   later; for the divorce in 1809 was brought about by the joint
   efforts of all the members of the Bonaparte family, aided by some of
   Napoleon's most confidential servants, whom Josephine, either as
   Madame Bonaparte or as Empress, had done nothing to make her
   friends.

   "Bonaparte, on his arrival in Paris, found his house deserted: but
   his mother, sisters, and sisters-in-law, and, in short, every member
   of his family, except Louis, who had attended Madame Bonaparte to
   Lyons, came to him immediately. The impression made upon him by the
   solitude of his home and its desertion by its mistress was profound
   and terrible, and nine years afterwards, when the ties between him
   and Josephine were severed for ever, he showed that it was not
   effaced. From not finding her with his family he inferred that she
   felt herself unworthy of their presence, and feared to meet the man
   she had wronged. He considered her journey to Lyons as a mere
   pretence.

   "M. de Bourrienne says that for some days after Josephine's return
   Bonaparte treated her with extreme coldness. As he was an
   eyewitness, why does he not state the whole truth, and say that on
   her return Bonaparte refused to see her and did not see her? It was
   to the earnest entreaties of her children that she owed the
   recovery, not of her husband's love, for that had long ceased, but
   of that tenderness acquired by habit, and that intimate intercourse
   which made her still retain the rank of consort to the greatest man
   of his age. Bonaparte was at this period much attached to Eugène
   Beauharnais, who, to do him justice, was a charming youth. He knew
   less of Hortense; but her youth and sweetness of temper, and the
   protection of which, as his adopted daughter, she besought him not
   to deprive her, proved powerful advocates, and overcame his
   resistance.

   "In this delicate negotiation it was good policy not to bring any
   other person into play, whatever might be their influence with
   Bonaparte, and Madame Bonaparte did not, therefore, have recourse
   either to Barras, Bourrienne, or Berthier. It was expedient that
   they who interceded for her should be able to say something without
   the possibility of a reply. Now Bonaparte could not with any degree
   of propriety explain to such children as Eugène or Hortense the
   particulars of their mother's conduct. He was therefore constrained
   to silence, and had no argument to combat the tears of two innocent
   creatures at his feet exclaiming, 'Do not abandon our mother; she
   will break her heart! and ought injustice to take from us, poor
   orphans, whose natural protector the scaffold has already deprived
   us of, the support of one whom Providence has sent to replace him!'

   "The scene, as Bonaparte has since stated, was long and painful, and
   the two children at length introduced their mother, and placed her
   in his arms. The unhappy woman had awaited his decision at the door
   of a small back staircase, extended at almost full length upon the
   stairs, suffering the acutest pangs of mental torture.

   "Whatever might be his wife's errors, Bonaparte appeared entirely to
   forget them, and the reconciliation was complete. Of all the
   members of the family Madame Leclerc was most vexed at the pardon
   which Napoleon had granted to his wife. Bonaparte's mother was also
   very ill pleased; but she said nothing. Madame Joseph Bonaparte,
   who was always very amiable, took no part in these family quarrels;
   therefore she could easily determine what part to take when fortune
   smiled on Josephine. As to Madame Bacciocchi, she gave free vent to
   her ill-humour and disdain; the consequence was that her
   sister-in-law could never endure her. Christine who was a
   beautiful creature, followed the example of Madame Joseph, and
   Caroline was so young that her opinion could have no weight in such
   an affair. As to Bonaparte's brothers, they were at open war with
   Josephine."]— 
 —[Speaking about the unexpected arrival of Bonaparte and his meeting with Josephine, Madame Junot says: "On October 10th, Josephine set off to meet her husband, but she didn’t know exactly what route he would take. She assumed he would come through Burgundy, so Louis and she headed for Lyons.

   "Madame Bonaparte was subject to serious and well-founded accusations. Whether she was guilty or just careless, the Bonaparte family strongly criticized her and wanted Napoleon to divorce her. The older M. de Caulaincourt expressed his concerns about this, but whenever the topic came up, my mother changed the subject. Knowing the Bonaparte family’s feelings, she couldn't respond without either betraying them or lying. She also knew the truth of many things that M. de Caulaincourt seemed to doubt, which her relationship with Bonaparte made it impossible for her to share with him.

   "Madame Bonaparte made a big mistake by not trying to win over her mother-in-law at this time, as she could have defended her against those who wanted her downfall—a downfall that did happen nine years later; the divorce in 1809 was the result of the united efforts of the Bonaparte family, aided by some of Napoleon's closest aides, whom Josephine, either as Madame Bonaparte or as Empress, hadn’t done anything to win over.

   "When Bonaparte arrived in Paris, he found his house empty. However, his mother, sisters, sisters-in-law, and every other family member except Louis, who had gone with Madame Bonaparte to Lyons, came to see him immediately. The solitude of his home and its abandonment by its mistress deeply affected him, and nine years later, when the bond between him and Josephine was finally broken, it was clear that impact was still there. Not seeing her with his family led him to believe she felt unworthy of their presence and was afraid to face the man she had wronged. He viewed her trip to Lyons as just a pretense.

   "M. de Bourrienne mentions that for several days after Josephine's return, Bonaparte was very cold toward her. Since he was an eyewitness, why doesn’t he tell the whole truth and mention that upon her return, Bonaparte wouldn’t see her at all? It was only due to the earnest pleas of her children that she regained not her husband's love, which had long disappeared, but the affection acquired through habit and the close bond that allowed her to remain the partner of the greatest man of his time. During this period, Bonaparte was quite attached to Eugène Beauharnais, who, to be fair, was a charming young man. He knew less about Hortense, but her youth, sweet nature, and her plea for protection as his adopted daughter were powerful advocates that softened his resistance.

   "In this sensitive negotiation, it was wise not to involve anyone else, regardless of their influence over Bonaparte, so Madame Bonaparte didn’t turn to Barras, Bourrienne, or Berthier. It was important that those advocating for her could say something without the chance of being challenged. Bonaparte couldn’t appropriately explain to children like Eugène or Hortense the specifics of their mother’s behavior. He was therefore left silent, having no argument against the tears of two innocent kids at his feet crying, 'Don’t abandon our mother; she’ll die of heartbreak! And should injustice strip us, poor orphans, who have already lost our natural protector, of the support of someone Providence has sent to take his place?'

   "The scene, as Bonaparte later described, was long and painful, and eventually, the two children introduced their mother and placed her in his arms. The distressed woman had waited for his decision at the door of a small back staircase, lying nearly flat on the stairs, suffering intense mental anguish.

   "Whatever her wife's mistakes might have been, Bonaparte seemed to completely forget them, and the reconciliation was total. Of all the family members, Madame Leclerc was most upset by Napoleon's forgiveness of his wife. Bonaparte's mother was also very displeased but said nothing. Madame Joseph Bonaparte, always amiable, took no part in these family disputes, which allowed her to easily choose her side when fortune favored Josephine. Madame Bacciocchi expressed her annoyance and contempt openly, which made it hard for her sister-in-law to tolerate her. Christine, who was beautiful, followed Madame Joseph's example, and Caroline was too young for her opinion to have any weight in this matter. As for Bonaparte's brothers, they were openly at odds with Josephine."]—







      On the day after his arrival Bonaparte visited the Directors.
    
On the day after he arrived, Bonaparte met with the Directors.






 —[The Directors at this time were Barras, Sieyès, Moulins, Gohier,
   and Roger Ducos.]— 
—[The Directors at this time were Barras, Sieyès, Moulins, Gohier, and Roger Ducos.]—







      The interview was cold. On the 24th of October he said to me, "I dined
      yesterday at Gohier's; Sieyès was present, and I pretended not to see him.
      I observed how much he was enraged at this mark of disrespect."—"But
      are you sure he is against you?" inquired I. "I know nothing yet; but he
      is a scheming man, and I don't like him." Even at that time Bonaparte had
      thoughts of getting himself elected a member of the Directory in the room
      of Sieyès.
    
The interview was tense. On October 24th, he told me, "I had dinner yesterday at Gohier's; Sieyès was there, and I acted like I didn't see him. I noticed how angry he was by this sign of disrespect."—"But are you sure he's against you?" I asked. "I don’t know for sure yet, but he’s manipulative, and I don’t trust him." Even at that moment, Bonaparte was considering running for a spot in the Directory to replace Sieyès.








 


 




















      CHAPTER XXIII
    



      1799.
    
1799.


   Moreau and Bernadotte—Bonaparte's opinion of Bernadotte—False
   report—The crown of Sweden and the Constitution of the year III.—
   Intrigues of Bonaparte's brothers—Angry conversation between
   Bonaparte and Bernadotte—Bonaparte's version—Josephine's version—
   An unexpected visit—The Manege Club—Salicetti and Joseph Bonaparte
   —Bonaparte invites himself to breakfast with Bernadotte—Country
   excursion—Bernadotte dines with Bonaparte—The plot and conspiracy
   —Conduct of Lucien—Dinner given to Bonaparte by the Council of the
   Five Hundred—Bonaparte's wish to be chosen a member of the
   Directory—His reconciliation with Sieyès—Offer made by the
   Directory to Bonaparte—He is falsely accused by Barras.

   Moreau and Bernadotte—Bonaparte's thoughts on Bernadotte—False reports—The crown of Sweden and the Constitution of the year III.—Intrigues involving Bonaparte's brothers—Tense conversation between Bonaparte and Bernadotte—Bonaparte's account—Josephine's account—An unexpected visit—The Manege Club—Salicetti and Joseph Bonaparte—Bonaparte invites himself to breakfast with Bernadotte—Country outing—Bernadotte has dinner with Bonaparte—The plot and conspiracy—Lucien's behavior—Dinner hosted for Bonaparte by the Council of the Five Hundred—Bonaparte's desire to become a member of the Directory—His reconciliation with Sieyès—The Directory's offer to Bonaparte—He is falsely accused by Barras.







      To throw a clear light on the course of the great events which will
      presently be developed it is necessary to state briefly what intrigues had
      been hatched and what ambitious hopes had risen up while we were in Egypt.
      When in Egypt Bonaparte was entirely deprived of any means of knowing what
      was going on in France; and in our rapid journey from Fréjus to Paris we
      had no opportunity of collecting much information. Yet it was very
      important that we should know the real state of affairs, and the
      sentiments of those whom Bonaparte had counted among his rivals in glory,
      and whom he might now meet among his rivals in ambition.
    
To shed light on the significant events that will unfold soon, it's important to briefly outline the intrigues that were plotted and the ambitious hopes that emerged while we were in Egypt. While in Egypt, Bonaparte had no way of knowing what was happening in France, and during our quick trip from Fréjus to Paris, we didn't have much chance to gather information. However, it was crucial for us to understand the actual situation and the feelings of those whom Bonaparte considered his rivals in fame, and who could now be competing with him in ambition.







      Moreau's military reputation stood very high, and Bernadotte's firmness
      appeared inflexible. Generally speaking, Bonaparte might have reckoned
      among his devoted partisans the companions of his glory in Italy, and also
      those whom he subsequently denominated "his Egyptians." But brave men had
      distinguished themselves in the army of the Rhine; and if they did not
      withhold their admiration from the conqueror of Italy, they felt at least
      more personally interested in the admiration which they lavished on him
      who had repaired the disaster of Scherer. Besides, it must be borne in
      mind that a republican spirit prevailed, almost without exception, in the
      army, and that the Directory appeared to be a Government invented
      expressly to afford patronage to intriguers. All this planted difficulties
      in our way, and rendered it indispensably necessary that we should know
      our ground. We had, it is true, been greeted by the fullest measure of
      popular enthusiasm on our arrival; but this was not enough. We wanted
      suffrages of a more solid kind.
    
Moreau's military reputation was very high, and Bernadotte's determination seemed unyielding. Overall, Bonaparte might have counted his loyal supporters from his victories in Italy among his followers, as well as those he later called "his Egyptians." However, brave individuals had made a name for themselves in the army of the Rhine; while they admired the conqueror of Italy, they were at least more personally invested in praising the one who had fixed Scherer's disaster. Additionally, it's important to note that a republican spirit mostly prevailed in the army, and that the Directory seemed like a government created solely to support schemers. All of this created challenges for us and made it essential that we understood our situation. Indeed, we were welcomed with immense public enthusiasm upon our arrival, but that alone wasn’t sufficient. We needed support of a more substantial nature.







      During the campaign of Egypt, Bernadotte, who was a zealous republican,
      had been War Minister,
    
During the campaign in Egypt, Bernadotte, who was a passionate republican, had served as War Minister,






 —[Bernadotte was Minister of War from 2d July 1799 to 14th
   September 1799, when, as he himself wrote to the Directory, they
   "accepted" the resignation he had not offered.]— 
 —[Bernadotte served as Minister of War from July 2, 1799, to September 14, 1799, when, as he stated in a letter to the Directory, they "accepted" the resignation he never actually submitted.]—







      but he had resigned the portfolio to Dubois-Crancé three weeks before
      Bonaparte's return to France. Some partisans of the old Minister were
      endeavouring to get him recalled, and it was very important to Bonaparte's
      interests that he should prevent the success of this design. I recollect
      that on the second day of our arrival Bonaparte said to me, "I have
      learned many things; but we shall see what will happen. Bernadotte is a
      singular man. When he was War Minister Augereau, Salicetti, and some
      others informed him that the Constitution was in danger, and that it was
      necessary to get rid of Sieyès, Barras, and Fouché, who were at the head
      of a plot. What did Bernadotte do? Nothing. He asked for proofs. None
      could be produced. He asked for powers. Who could grant them? Nobody. He
      should have taken them; but he would not venture on that. He wavered. He
      said he could not enter into the schemes which were proposed to him. He
      only promised to be silent on condition that they were renounced.
      Bernadotte is not a help; he is an obstacle. I have heard from good
      authority that a great number of influential persons wished to invest him
      with extensive power for the public good; but he was obstinate, and would
      listen to nothing."
    
but he had handed over the position to Dubois-Crancé three weeks before Bonaparte's return to France. Some supporters of the former Minister were trying to get him reinstated, and it was crucial for Bonaparte's interests that he stop this from happening. I remember that on the second day after our arrival, Bonaparte said to me, "I have learned many things; but we’ll see what happens. Bernadotte is a strange man. When he was War Minister, Augereau, Salicetti, and a few others informed him that the Constitution was in danger and that it was necessary to eliminate Sieyès, Barras, and Fouché, who were heading up a plot. What did Bernadotte do? Nothing. He asked for proof. None could be provided. He asked for authority. Who could give it to him? Nobody. He should have taken it; but he was too hesitant. He said he couldn’t engage in the schemes proposed to him. He only promised to keep quiet, provided they were abandoned. Bernadotte is not a help; he is an obstacle. I've heard from reliable sources that many influential people wanted to give him significant power for the public good; but he was stubborn and wouldn’t listen to anything.”







      After a brief interval of silence, during which Bonaparte rubbed his
      forehead with his right hand, he then resumed:
    
After a short moment of silence, during which Bonaparte rubbed his forehead with his right hand, he continued:







      "I believe I shall have Bernadotte and Moreau against me. But I do not
      fear Moreau. He is devoid of energy. I know he would prefer military to
      political power. The promise of the command of an army would gain him
      over. But Bernadotte has Moorish blood in his veins. He is bold and
      enterprising. He is allied to my brothers.
    
"I think I'll have Bernadotte and Moreau against me. But I’m not worried about Moreau. He lacks energy. I know he would choose military power over political power. The chance to command an army would win him over. But Bernadotte has Moorish blood. He’s bold and adventurous. He’s connected to my brothers."






 —[Joseph Bonaparte and Bernadotte had married sisters. Marie-Julie
   and Eugénie Bernardine-Desirée Clary. The feeling of Bourrienne for
   Bernadotte makes this passage doubtful. It is to be noticed that in
   the same conversation he makes Napoleon describe Bernadotte as not
   venturing to act without powers and as enterprising. The stern
   republican becoming Prince de Monte Carlo and King of Sweden, in a
   way compatible with his fidelity to the Constitution of the year
   III., is good. Lanfrey attributes Bernadotte's refusal to join more
   to rivalry than to principle (Lanfrey, tome i. p. 440). But in any
   case Napoleon did not dread Bernadotte, and was soon threatening to
   shoot him; see Lucien, tome ii. p. 107.]— 
—[Joseph Bonaparte and Bernadotte married sisters: Marie-Julie and Eugénie Bernardine-Désirée Clary. Bourrienne's feelings for Bernadotte make this section questionable. It's worth noting that during the same discussion, he has Napoleon describe Bernadotte as someone who wouldn't act without authorization and as being ambitious. The stern republican becoming the Prince of Monte Carlo and King of Sweden, while still being true to the Constitution of the year III., is interesting. Lanfrey suggests that Bernadotte’s refusal to join was more about rivalry than principle (Lanfrey, tome i. p. 440). However, in any case, Napoleon wasn’t afraid of Bernadotte and soon threatened to shoot him; see Lucien, tome ii. p. 107.]—







      "He does not like me, and I am almost certain that he will oppose me. If
      he should become ambitious he will venture anything. And yet, you
      recollect in what a lukewarm way he acted on the 18th Fructidor, when I
      sent him to second Augereau. This devil of a fellow is not to be seduced.
      He is disinterested and clever. But, after all, we have but just arrived,
      and know not what may happen."
    
"He doesn’t like me, and I’m pretty sure he’ll be against me. If he gets ambitious, he’ll take any risk. Still, remember how half-heartedly he acted on the 18th of Fructidor when I sent him to support Augereau? This guy can’t be tempted. He’s selfless and smart. But, we’ve just arrived, and we have no idea what might happen."







      Bernadotte, it was reported, had advised that Bonaparte should be brought
      to a court-martial, on the two-fold charge of having abandoned his army
      and violated the quarantine laws. This report came to the ear of
      Bonaparte; but he refused to believe it and he was right. Bernadotte
      thought himself bound to the Constitution which he had sworn to defend.
      Hence the opposition he manifested to the measures of the 18th Brumaire.
      But he cherished no personal animosity against Bonaparte as long as he was
      ignorant of his ambitious designs. The extraordinary and complicated
      nature of subsequent events rendered his possession of the crown of Sweden
      in no way incompatible with his fidelity to the Constitution of the year
      III.
    
Bernadotte reportedly suggested that Bonaparte should face a court-martial for both abandoning his army and breaking quarantine laws. This news reached Bonaparte, but he wouldn't accept it, and he was right not to. Bernadotte felt obligated to uphold the Constitution he had promised to defend. This is why he opposed the actions taken on the 18th Brumaire. However, he did not hold any personal grudge against Bonaparte as long as he was unaware of his ambitious plans. The exceptional and complex nature of the events that followed meant that his claim to the Swedish crown did not conflict with his loyalty to the Constitution of the year III.







      On our first arrival in Paris, though I was almost constantly with the
      General, yet, as our routine of occupation was not yet settled, I was
      enabled now and then to snatch an hour or two from business. This leisure
      time I spent in the society of my family and a few friends, and in
      collecting information as to what had happened during our absence, for
      which purpose I consulted old newspapers and pamphlets. I was not
      surprised to learn that Bonaparte's brothers—that is to say, Joseph
      and Lucien—had been engaged in many intrigues. I was told that
      Sieyès had for a moment thought of calling the Duke of Brunswick to the
      head of the Government; that Barras would not have been very averse to
      favouring the return of the Bourbons; and that Moulins, Roger Ducos, and
      Gohier alone believed or affected to believe, in the possibility of
      preserving the existing form of government. From what I heard at the time
      I have good reasons for believing that Joseph and Lucien made all sorts of
      endeavours to inveigle Bernadotte into their brother's party, and in the
      hope of accomplishing that object they had assisted in getting him
      appointed War Minister. However, I cannot vouch for the truth of this. I
      was told that Bernadotte had at first submitted to the influence of
      Bonaparte's two brothers; but that their urgent interference in their
      client's behalf induced him to shake them off, to proceed freely in the
      exercise of his duties, and to open the eyes of the Directory on what the
      Republic might have to apprehend from the enterprising character of
      Bonaparte. It is certain that what I have to relate respecting the conduct
      of Bernadotte to Bonaparte is calculated to give credit to these
      assertions.
    
When we first arrived in Paris, although I was almost always with the General, our routine hadn't been established yet, so I was able to steal an hour or two from work now and then. I spent this free time with my family and a few friends, and in gathering information about what had happened during our absence by looking through old newspapers and pamphlets. I wasn't surprised to hear that Bonaparte's brothers—Joseph and Lucien—had been involved in numerous intrigues. I learned that Sieyès briefly considered bringing the Duke of Brunswick to lead the government, that Barras wasn't entirely opposed to supporting the return of the Bourbons, and that only Moulins, Roger Ducos, and Gohier seemed to genuinely believe in preserving the current government. From what I heard at the time, I have good reason to believe that Joseph and Lucien were trying all sorts of tactics to lure Bernadotte into their brother's camp, and to that end, they helped get him appointed as War Minister. However, I can't confirm this. I was told that Bernadotte initially succumbed to the influence of Bonaparte's two brothers, but their persistent meddling in his affairs led him to break free, carry out his duties independently, and alert the Directory about the potential threats posed by Bonaparte's ambitious nature. What I have to say about Bernadotte's interactions with Bonaparte certainly supports these claims.







      All the generals who were in Paris, with the exception of Bernadotte, had
      visited Bonaparte during the first three days which succeeded his arrival.
      Bernadotte's absence was the more remarkable because he had served under
      Bonaparte in Italy. It was not until a fortnight had elapsed, and then
      only on the reiterated entreaties of Joseph and Madame Joseph Bonaparte
      (his sister-in-law), that he determined to go and see his old
      General-in-Chief. I was not present at their interview, being at that
      moment occupied in the little cabinet of the Rue Chantereine. But I soon
      discovered that their conversation had been long and warm; for as soon as
      it was ended Bonaparte entered the cabinet exceedingly agitated, and said
      to me, "Bourrienne, how do you think Bernadotte has behaved? You have
      traversed France with me—you witnessed the enthusiasm which my
      return excited—you yourself told me that you saw in that enthusiasm
      the desire of the French people to be relieved from the disastrous
      position in which our reverses have placed them. Well! would you believe
      it? Bernadotte boasts, with ridiculous exaggeration, of the brilliant and
      victorious situation of France! He talks about the defeat of the Russians,
      the occupation of Genoa, the innumerable armies that are rising up
      everywhere. In short, I know not what nonsense he has got in his head."—"What
      can all this mean?" said I. "Did he speak about Egypt?"—"Oh, yes!
      Now you remind me. He actually reproached me for not having brought the
      army back with me! 'But,' observed I, 'have you not just told me that you
      are absolutely overrun with troops; that all your frontiers are secure,
      that immense levies are going on, and that you will have 200,000 infantry?—If
      this be true, what do you want with a few thousand men who may ensure the
      preservation of Egypt?' He could make no answer to this. But he is quite
      elated by the honour of having been War Minister, and he told me boldly
      that he looked upon the army of Egypt as lost nay, more. He made
      insinuations. He spoke of enemies abroad and enemies at home; and as he
      uttered these last words he looked significantly at me. I too gave him a
      glance! But stay a little. The pear will soon be ripe! You know
      Josephine's grace and address. She was present. The scrutinising glance of
      Bernadotte did not escape her, and she adroitly turned the conversation.
      Bernadotte saw from my countenance that I had had enough of it, and he
      took his leave. But don't let me interrupt you farther. I am going back to
      speak to Josephine."
    
All the generals in Paris, except for Bernadotte, visited Bonaparte in the first three days after his arrival. Bernadotte's absence was especially noticeable since he had served under Bonaparte in Italy. It wasn't until two weeks later, and only after Joseph and Madame Joseph Bonaparte (his sister-in-law) repeatedly urged him, that he decided to go see his former General-in-Chief. I wasn't there for their meeting because I was busy in the small office on Rue Chantereine. However, I quickly found out that their conversation had been lengthy and intense; as soon as it was over, Bonaparte walked into the office extremely agitated and said to me, "Bourrienne, what do you think of Bernadotte's behavior? You've traveled all over France with me—you saw the excitement that my return stirred up—you even told me that you saw in that excitement the French people's desire to be freed from the disastrous position our defeats have put them in. Well! Can you believe it? Bernadotte is boasting, with ridiculous exaggeration, about the brilliant and victorious state of France! He talks about the defeat of the Russians, the occupation of Genoa, and all the countless armies rising up everywhere. Honestly, I don't know what nonsense he's got in his head."— "What could all this mean?" I asked. "Did he mention Egypt?"—"Oh, yes! Now that you mention it, he actually blamed me for not bringing the army back with me! 'But,' I replied, 'didn’t you just say that you’re completely overrun with troops; that all your borders are secure, that huge enlistments are happening, and that you’ll have 200,000 infantry? If that’s true, what do you need a few thousand men for to secure Egypt?' He couldn't respond to that. But he's really proud of having been War Minister, and he boldly told me that he regarded the army in Egypt as lost. What's more, he made insinuations. He spoke of enemies abroad and at home; and when he said these last words, he gave me a significant look. I shot him one back! But hang on. The situation will soon become clear! You know Josephine's charm and poise. She was there. Bernadotte’s probing gaze didn’t go unnoticed by her, and she skillfully changed the subject. Bernadotte saw from my expression that I had enough of it, so he took his leave. But I won’t interrupt you any further. I’m going back to speak with Josephine."







      I must confess that this strange story made me very impatient to find
      myself alone with Madame Bonaparte, for I wished to hear her account of
      the scene. An opportunity occurred that very evening. I repeated to her
      what I had heard from the General, and all that she told me tended to
      confirm its accuracy. She added that Bernadotte seemed to take the utmost
      pains to exhibit to the General a flattering picture of the prosperity of
      France; and she reported to me, as follows, that part of the conversation
      which was peculiarly calculated to irritate Bonaparte:—"'I do not
      despair of the safety of the Republic, which I am certain can restrain her
      enemies both abroad and at home.' As Bernadotte uttered these last
      words,'" continued Josephine, "his glance made me shudder. One word more
      and Bonaparte could have commanded himself no longer! It is true," added
      she, "that it was in some degree his own fault, for it was he who turned
      the conversation on politics; and Bernadotte, in describing the
      flourishing condition of France, was only replying to the General, who had
      drawn a very opposite picture of the state of things. You know, my dear
      Bourrienne, that Bonaparte is not always very prudent. I fear he has said
      too much to Bernadotte about the necessity of changes in the Government."
      Josephine had not yet recovered from the agitation into which this violent
      scene had thrown her. After I took leave of her I made notes of what she
      had told me.
    
I have to admit that this unusual story made me really eager to be alone with Madame Bonaparte, as I wanted to hear her version of the event. That evening, I got my chance. I recounted to her what I had heard from the General, and everything she shared with me confirmed its accuracy. She mentioned that Bernadotte seemed to go out of his way to show the General a positive view of France's prosperity; and she relayed to me the part of the conversation that was particularly likely to irritate Bonaparte:—"I do not despair of the safety of the Republic, which I am certain can control its enemies both abroad and at home." When Bernadotte said those last words," Josephine continued, "his look made me shudder. One more word and Bonaparte would have lost control completely! It’s true," she added, "that it was somewhat his own fault, as he was the one who brought up politics; and Bernadotte, in talking about France’s thriving condition, was merely responding to the General, who had painted a very different picture of the situation. You know, my dear Bourrienne, that Bonaparte is not always very careful. I'm worried he has said too much to Bernadotte about needing changes in the Government." Josephine hadn't yet recovered from the distress that this intense scene had caused her. After I said goodbye to her, I took notes on what she had shared.







      A few days after, when Bonaparte, Josephine, Hortense, Eugène, and I were
      together in the drawing-room, Bernadotte unexpectedly entered. His
      appearance, after what had passed, was calculated to surprise us. He was
      accompanied by a person whom he requested permission to introduce to
      Bonaparte. I have forgotten his name, but he was, I think,
      secretary-general while Bernadotte was in office. Bonaparte betrayed no
      appearance of astonishment. He received Bernadotte with perfect ease, and
      they soon entered into conversation. Bonaparte, who seemed to acquire
      confidence from the presence of those who were about him, said a great
      deal about the agitation which prevailed among the republicans, and
      expressed himself in very decided terms against the 'Manège Club.'
    
A few days later, when Bonaparte, Josephine, Hortense, Eugène, and I were together in the living room, Bernadotte unexpectedly walked in. His arrival, considering what had happened, was surprising to us. He brought along someone he wanted to introduce to Bonaparte. I’ve forgotten his name, but I think he was the secretary-general while Bernadotte was in office. Bonaparte showed no sign of being shocked. He greeted Bernadotte with complete ease, and they quickly got into a conversation. Bonaparte, who seemed to gain confidence from the people around him, talked a lot about the unrest among the republicans and spoke very strongly against the 'Manège Club.'






 —[The Manège Club, the last resort of the Jacobins, formed in 1799,
   and closed seven or eight months afterwards. Joseph Bonaparte
   (Erreurs, time i. p. 251) denies that he or Lucien—for whom the
   allusion is meant—were members of this club, and he disputes this
   conversation ever having taken place. Lucien (tome i. p. 219)
   treats this club as opposed to his party.]— 
 —[The Manège Club, the final refuge of the Jacobins, was established in 1799 and shut down seven or eight months later. Joseph Bonaparte (Erreurs, time i. p. 251) claims that neither he nor Lucien—who is referenced here—were part of this club, and he contests that this conversation ever occurred. Lucien (tome i. p. 219) regards this club as being against his party.]—







      I seconded him by observing that M. Moreau de Worms of my department, who
      was a member of that club, had himself complained to me of the violence
      that prevailed in it. "But, General," said Bernadotte, "your brothers were
      its most active originators. Yet," added he in a tone of firmness, "you
      accuse me of having favoured that club, and I repel the charge. It cannot
      be otherwise than false. When I came into office I found everything in the
      greatest disorder. I had no leisure to think about any club to which my
      duties did not call me. You know well that your friend Salicetti, and that
      your brother, who is in your confidence, are both leading men in the
      Manège Club. To the instructions of I know not whom is to be attributed
      the violence of which you complain." At these words, and especially the
      tone in which Bernadotte uttered 'I know not whom,' Bonaparte could no
      longer restrain himself. "Well, General," exclaimed he furiously, "I tell
      you plainly, I would rather live wild in the woods than in a state of
      society which affords no security." Bernadotte then said, with great
      dignity of manner, "Good God! General, what security would you have?" From
      the warmth evinced by Bonaparte I saw plainly that the conversation would
      soon be converted into a dispute, and in a whisper I requested Madame
      Bonaparte to change the conversation, which she immediately did by
      addressing a question to some one present. Bernadotte, observing Madame
      Bonaparte's design, checked his warmth. The subject of conversation was
      changed, and it became general. Bernadotte soon took up his hat and
      departed.
    
I backed him up by mentioning that M. Moreau de Worms from my department, who was part of that club, had also complained to me about the violence that was happening there. "But, General," Bernadotte replied, "your brothers were the main founders of that club. Still," he added firmly, "you accuse me of supporting that club, and I deny that claim. It cannot be anything but false. When I took office, I found everything in total chaos. I didn’t have time to think about any club that didn’t directly involve my responsibilities. You know very well that your friend Salicetti and your brother, who you trust, are both key figures in the Manège Club. The violence you’re talking about can be traced back to the orders of some unknown person." At his words, particularly how he emphasized 'some unknown person,' Bonaparte could no longer hold back. "Well, General," he shouted angrily, "I’ll tell you straight, I’d rather live wild in the woods than in a society that offers no security." Bernadotte then replied, with great dignity, "Good God! General, what kind of security do you want?" From Bonaparte's heated response, I could see that the conversation was about to become an argument, so I quietly asked Madame Bonaparte to change the subject, which she promptly did by asking someone else a question. Bernadotte, noticing Madame Bonaparte’s intention, calmed himself down. The topic shifted to something more general. Soon after, Bernadotte took his hat and left.







      One morning, when I entered Bonaparte's chamber—it was, I believe,
      three or four days after the second visit of Bernadotte—he said:
    
One morning, when I walked into Bonaparte's room—it was, I think, three or four days after Bernadotte's second visit—he said:







      "Well, Bourrienne, I wager you will not guess with whom I am going to
      breakfast this morning?"—"Really, General, I —"—"With
      Bernadotte; and the best of the joke is, that I have invited myself. You
      would have seen how it was all brought about if you had been with us at
      the Théâtre Français, yesterday evening. You know we are going to visit
      Joseph today at Mortfontaine. Well, as we were coming out of the theatre
      last night, finding myself side by side with Bernadotte and not knowing
      what to talk about, I asked him whether he was to be of our party to-day?
      He replied in the affirmative; and as we were passing his house in the Rue
      Cisalpine.
    
"Well, Bourrienne, I bet you won't guess who I'm having breakfast with this morning?"—"Really, General, I—"—"With Bernadotte; and the funny part is, I invited myself. You would have seen how it all happened if you had been with us at the Théâtre Français last night. You know we're visiting Joseph today at Mortfontaine. So, as we were leaving the theater last night, and I found myself next to Bernadotte not knowing what to say, I asked him if he was joining us today. He said yes, and as we were passing his place on Rue Cisalpine."






 —[Joseph Bonaparte lays great stress on the fact that Napoleon
   would not have passed this house, which was far from the theatre
   (Erreurs, tome i, p. 251).]— 
—[Joseph Bonaparte emphasizes that Napoleon would not have gone past this house, which was located far from the theater (Erreurs, tome i, p. 251).]—







      "I told him, without any ceremony, that I should be happy to come and take
      a cup of coffee with him in the morning. He seemed pleased. What do you
      think of that, Bourrienne?"—"Why, General, I hope you may have
      reason on your part to be pleased with him."—"Never fear, never
      fear. I know what I am about. This will compromise him with Gohier.
      Remember, you must always meet your enemies with a bold face, otherwise
      they think they are feared, and that gives them confidence."
    
"I told him, without any hesitation, that I'd be glad to come and have a cup of coffee with him in the morning. He looked happy about it. What do you think, Bourrienne?"—"Well, General, I hope you have a good reason to be pleased with him."—"Don’t worry, don’t worry. I know what I’m doing. This will put him in a tough spot with Gohier. Remember, you should always face your enemies with confidence; otherwise, they’ll think they intimidate you, and that just boosts their confidence."







      Bonaparte stepped into the carriage with Josephine, who was always ready
      when she had to go out with him, for he did not like to wait. They
      proceeded first to Bernadotte's to breakfast, and from thence to
      Mortfontaine. On his return Bonaparte told me very little about what had
      passed during the day, and I could see that he was not in the best of
      humours. I afterwards learned that Bonaparte had conversed a good deal
      with Bernadotte, and that he had made every effort to render himself
      agreeable, which he very well knew how to do when he chose! but that, in
      spite of all his conversational talent; and supported as he was by the
      presence of his three brothers, and Regnault de St. Jean d'Angély, he
      could not withstand the republican firmness of Bernadotte. However, the
      number of his partisans daily augmented; for all had not the
      uncompromising spirit of Bernadotte; and it will soon be seen that Moreau
      himself undertook charge of the Directors who were made prisoners on the
      18th Brumaire.
    
Bonaparte got into the carriage with Josephine, who was always ready when it was time to go out with him, since he didn’t like to wait. They first went to have breakfast with Bernadotte, and then headed to Mortfontaine. When Bonaparte came back, he shared very little about what had happened during the day, and I could tell he wasn’t in the best mood. Later, I found out that Bonaparte had talked quite a bit with Bernadotte and had tried hard to be friendly, which he knew how to do well when he wanted to! But despite all his charm, and with his three brothers and Regnault de St. Jean d'Angély there, he couldn’t break through Bernadotte’s steadfastness. However, the number of his supporters was growing every day; not everyone had Bernadotte’s strong will. It soon became clear that Moreau himself took charge of the Directors who were captured on the 18th Brumaire.







      Bernadotte's shrewd penetration made him one of the first to see clearly
      into Bonaparte's designs. He was well convinced of his determination to
      overthrow the constitution and possess himself of power. He saw the
      Directory divided into two parties; the one duped by the promises and
      assurances of Bonaparte, and the other conniving with him for the
      accomplishment of his plans. In these circumstances Bernadotte offered his
      services to all persons connected with the Government who, like himself,
      were averse to the change which he saw good reason to apprehend. But
      Bonaparte was not the man to be outdone in cunning or activity; and every
      moment swelled the ranks of his adherents.
    
Bernadotte's sharp insight made him one of the first to clearly understand Bonaparte's intentions. He was convinced that Bonaparte was determined to overturn the constitution and take control. He saw the Directory split into two factions: one misled by Bonaparte's promises and reassurances, and the other colluding with him to carry out his plans. In response, Bernadotte offered his support to anyone in the Government who, like him, was opposed to the change he believed was imminent. But Bonaparte was not one to be outsmarted or inactive; with each passing moment, his supporters grew in number.







      On the 16th Brumaire I dined in the Rue de la Victoire. Bernadotte was
      present, and I believe General Jourdan also. While the grand conspiracy
      was hastening to its accomplishment Madame Bonaparte and I had contrived a
      little plot of a more innocent kind. We let no one into our secret, and
      our 16th Brumaire was crowned with complete success. We had agreed to be
      on the alert to prevent any fresh exchange of angry words. All succeeded
      to the utmost of our wishes. The conversation languished during dinner;
      but it was not dulness that we were afraid of. It turned on the subject of
      war, and in that vast field Bonaparte's superiority over his interlocutors
      was undeniable.
    
On the 16th Brumaire, I had dinner on Rue de la Victoire. Bernadotte was there, and I think General Jourdan was too. While the major conspiracy was rushing to finish up, Madame Bonaparte and I had come up with a little plan of our own that was more innocent. We kept our secret to ourselves, and our 16th Brumaire was a complete success. We agreed to stay alert to avoid any more heated arguments. Everything went as we hoped. The conversation lagged during dinner, but we weren't worried about it being boring. It shifted to the topic of war, and it was clear that Bonaparte was far superior to his conversation partners in that area.







      When we retired to the drawing-rooms a great number of evening visitors
      poured in, and the conversation then became animated, and even gay.
      Bonaparte was in high spirits. He said to some one, smiling, and pointing
      to Bernadotte, "You are not aware that the General yonder is a Chouan."—"A
      Chouan?" repeated Bernadotte, also in a tone of pleasantry. "Ah! General
      you contradict yourself. Only the other day you taxed me with favouring
      the violence of the friends of the Republic, and now you accuse me of
      protecting the Chouans.
    
When we moved to the living room, a lot of evening guests arrived, and the conversation became lively and even cheerful. Bonaparte was in a great mood. He smiled at someone and pointed to Bernadotte, saying, "You might not know that the General over there is a Chouan." — "A Chouan?" Bernadotte replied, also playfully. "Ah! General, you’re contradicting yourself. Just the other day you accused me of supporting the aggression of the Republic's allies, and now you claim I'm protecting the Chouans."






 —[The "Chouans," so called from their use of the cry of the
   screech-owl (chathouan) as a signal, were the revolted peasants of
   Brittany and of Maine.]— 
 —[The "Chouans," named for their use of the screech owl's cry (chathouan) as a signal, were the rebellious peasants of Brittany and Maine.] 







      "You should at least be consistent." A few moments after, availing himself
      of the confusion occasioned by the throng of visitors, Bernadotte slipped
      off.
    
"You should at least be consistent." A few moments later, taking advantage of the confusion caused by the crowd of visitors, Bernadotte slipped away.







      As a mark of respect to Bonaparte the Council of the Five Hundred
      appointed Lucien its president. The event proved how important this
      nomination was to Napoleon. Up to the 19th Brumaire, and especially on
      that day, Lucien evinced a degree of activity, intelligence, courage, and
      presence of mind which are rarely found united in one individual. I have
      no hesitation in stating that to Lucien's nomination and exertions must be
      attributed the success of the 19th Brumaire.
    
As a sign of respect for Bonaparte, the Council of the Five Hundred appointed Lucien as its president. This event highlighted how crucial this nomination was for Napoleon. Leading up to the 19th Brumaire, and especially on that day, Lucien displayed a level of energy, intelligence, bravery, and quick thinking that is rarely found in a single person. I can confidently say that Lucien's appointment and efforts were key to the success of the 19th Brumaire.







      The General had laid down a plan of conduct from which he never deviated
      during the twenty-three days which intervened between his arrival in Paris
      and the 18th Brumaire. He refused almost all private invitations, in order
      to avoid indiscreet questions, unacceptable offers, and answers which
      might compromise him.
    
The General had established a plan of action that he stuck to without fail during the twenty-three days between his arrival in Paris and the 18th Brumaire. He turned down almost all personal invitations to dodge awkward questions, unwanted proposals, and responses that could put him in a difficult position.







      It was not without some degree of hesitation that he yielded to a project
      started by Lucien, who, by all sorts of manoeuvring, had succeeded in
      prevailing on a great number of his colleagues to be present at a grand
      subscription dinner to be given to Bonaparte by the Council of the
      Ancients.
    
He hesitated a bit before agreeing to a project started by Lucien, who, through various tricks, had managed to convince many of his colleagues to attend a big fundraising dinner for Bonaparte hosted by the Council of the Ancients.







      The disorder which unavoidably prevailed in a party amounting to upwards
      of 250 persons, animated by a diversity of opinions and sentiments; the
      anxiety and distrust arising in the minds of those who were not in the
      grand plot, rendered this meeting one of the most disagreeable I ever
      witnessed. It was all restraint and dulness. Bonaparte's countenance
      sufficiently betrayed his dissatisfaction; besides, the success of his
      schemes demanded his presence elsewhere. Almost as soon as he had finished
      his dinner he rose, saying to Berthier and me, "I am tired: let us be
      gone." He went round to the different tables, addressing to the company
      compliments and trifling remarks, and departed, leaving at table the
      persons by whom he had been invited.
    
The chaos that inevitably erupted at a gathering of over 250 people, fueled by a range of opinions and feelings, created a sense of anxiety and distrust among those not involved in the main plan. As a result, this meeting was one of the most unpleasant I’ve ever seen. It was all about restraint and boredom. Bonaparte’s face clearly showed his dissatisfaction; besides, he needed to be elsewhere for his plans to succeed. Almost immediately after finishing his dinner, he stood up and said to Berthier and me, “I’m tired: let’s go.” He went around to the different tables, offering compliments and small talk to the guests, and left, leaving behind those who had invited him.







      This short political crisis was marked by nothing more grand, dignified,
      or noble than the previous revolutionary commotions. All these plots were
      so contemptible, and were accompanied by so much trickery, falsehood, and
      treachery, that, for the honour of human nature, it is desirable to cover
      them with a veil.
    
This brief political crisis was characterized by nothing more impressive, dignified, or noble than the earlier revolutionary upheavals. All these schemes were so despicable and were filled with so much deception, lies, and betrayal that, for the sake of human dignity, it’s better to hide them from view.







      General Bonaparte's thoughts were first occupied with the idea he had
      conceived even when in Italy, namely, to be chosen a Director. Nobody
      dared yet to accuse him of being a deserter from the army of the East. The
      only difficulty was to obtain a dispensation on the score of age. And was
      this not to be obtained? No sooner was he installed in his humble abode in
      the Rue de la Victoire than he was assured that, on the retirement of
      Rewbell, the majority of suffrages would have devolved on him had he been
      in France, and had not the fundamental law required the age of forty; but
      that not even his warmest partisans were disposed to violate the yet
      infant Constitution of the year III.
    
General Bonaparte was initially focused on his plan to be elected as a Director, an idea he had in mind even while in Italy. No one was bold enough to call him a deserter from the army in the East. The main challenge was getting an age exemption. But could that be achieved? As soon as he settled into his modest home on Rue de la Victoire, he was told that when Rewbell stepped down, he would have received most votes if he had been in France and if the law didn’t require candidates to be at least forty years old. However, even his staunchest supporters were unwilling to break the still-new Constitution of the year III.







      Bonaparte soon perceived that no efforts would succeed in overcoming this
      difficulty, and he easily resolved to possess himself wholly of an office
      of which he would nominally have had only a fifth part had he been a
      member of the Directory.
    
Bonaparte quickly realized that no amount of effort would overcome this challenge, and he easily decided to take complete control of an office where he would have nominally only held a fifth of the power if he had been a member of the Directory.







      As soon as his intentions became manifest he found himself surrounded by
      all those who recognised in him the man they had long looked for. These
      persons, who were able and influential in their own circles, endeavoured
      to convert into friendship the animosity which existed between Sieyès and
      Bonaparte. This angry feeling had been increased by a remark made by
      Sieyès, and reported to Bonaparte. He had said, after the dinner at which
      Bonaparte treated him so disrespectfully, "Do you see how that little
      insolent fellow behaves to a member of a Government which would do well to
      order him to be SHOT?"
    
As soon as his intentions became clear, he found himself surrounded by everyone who recognized him as the person they had been looking for. These individuals, who were capable and influential in their own right, tried to turn the animosity between Sieyès and Bonaparte into friendship. This anger had been escalated by a comment made by Sieyès and reported to Bonaparte. After the dinner where Bonaparte treated him so disrespectfully, he had said, "Do you see how that little arrogant guy behaves towards a member of a government that should seriously consider ordering him to be SHOT?"







      But all was changed when able mediators pointed out to Bonaparte the
      advantage of uniting with Sieyès for the purpose of overthrowing a
      Constitution which he did not like. He was assured how vain it would be to
      think of superseding him, and that it would be better to flatter him with
      the hope of helping to subvert the constitution and raising up a new one.
      One day some one said to Bonaparte in my hearing, "Seek for support among
      the party who call the friends of the Republic Jacobins, and be assured
      that Sieyès is at the head of that party."
    
But everything changed when skilled mediators pointed out to Bonaparte the benefits of teaming up with Sieyès to overthrow a Constitution he didn’t like. They assured him that it would be pointless to try to replace Sieyès and that it would be wiser to flatter him with the idea of helping to dismantle the current constitution and establish a new one. One day, someone said to Bonaparte in my presence, "Look for support among the group known as the friends of the Republic, the Jacobins, and know that Sieyès is leading that group."







      On the 25th Vendémiaire (17th of October) the Directory summoned General
      Bonaparte to a private sitting. "They offered me the choice of any army I
      would command," said he to me the next morning. "I would not refuse, but I
      asked to be allowed a little time for the recovery of my health; and, to
      avoid any other embarrassing offers, I withdrew. I shall go to no more of
      their sittings." (He attended only one after this.) "I am determined to
      join Sieyès' party. It includes a greater diversity of opinions than that
      of the profligate Barras. He proclaims everywhere that he is the author of
      my fortune. He will never be content to play an inferior part, and I will
      never bend to such a man. He cherishes the mad ambition of being the
      support of the Republic. What would he do with me? Sieyès, on the
      contrary, has no political ambition."
    
On the 25th Vendémiaire (October 17th), the Directory called General Bonaparte to a private meeting. "They offered me the chance to lead any army I wanted," he told me the next morning. "I wouldn’t refuse, but I asked for some time to recover my health; and to avoid any more awkward offers, I stepped back. I won't attend any more of their meetings." (He only went to one more after this.) "I’m set on joining Sieyès' faction. It has a wider range of opinions than the corrupt Barras. He boasts everywhere that he’s the reason for my success. He’ll never be satisfied with a lesser role, and I won’t submit to someone like him. He has this crazy ambition of being the backbone of the Republic. What would he do with me? Sieyès, on the other hand, has no political ambitions."







      No sooner did Sieyès begin to grow friendly with Bonaparte than the latter
      learned from him that Barras had said, "The 'little corporal' has made his
      fortune in Italy and does not want to go back again." Bonaparte repaired
      to the Directory for the sole purpose of contradicting this allegation. He
      complained to the Directors of its falsehood, boldly affirmed that the
      fortune he was supposed to possess had no existence, and that even if he
      had made his fortune it was not, at all events, at the expense of the
      Republic "You know," said he to me, "that the mines of Hydria have
      furnished the greater part of what I possess."—"Is it possible,"
      said I, "that Barras could have said so, when you know so well of all the
      peculations of which he has been guilty since your return?"
    
No sooner did Sieyès start to get friendly with Bonaparte than he found out from him that Barras had said, "The 'little corporal' has made his fortune in Italy and doesn't want to go back." Bonaparte went to the Directory just to refute this claim. He told the Directors it was a lie, boldly insisted that the fortune people thought he had didn’t exist, and that even if he had made a fortune, it certainly wasn't at the expense of the Republic. "You know," he told me, "that the mines of Hydria have provided most of what I have." — "Is it possible," I replied, "that Barras could have said that, knowing all the wrongdoings he’s been guilty of since you returned?"







      Bonaparte had confided the secret of his plans to very few persons—to
      those only whose assistance he wanted. The rest mechanically followed
      their leaders and the impulse which was given to them; they passively
      awaited the realisation of the promises they had received, and on the
      faith of which they had pledged themselves.
    
Bonaparte had shared the details of his plans with only a select few—just those he needed help from. The others simply followed their leaders and the momentum given to them; they passively waited for the fulfillment of the promises they'd been made and based their commitments on that faith.








 


 




















      CHAPTER XXIV.
    



      1799.
    
1799.


   Cambacérès and Lebrun—Gohier deceived—My nocturnal visit to Barras
   —The command of the army given to Bonaparte—The morning of the
   18th Brumaire—Meeting of the generals at Bonaparte's house—
   Bernadotte's firmness—Josephine's interest, for Madame Gohier—
   Disappointment of the Directors—Review in the gardens of the
   Tuileries—Bonaparte's harangue—Proclamation of the Ancients—
   Moreau, jailer of the Luxembourg—My conversation with La Vallette—
   Bonaparte at St. Cloud.

   Cambacérès and Lebrun—Gohier was fooled—My late-night visit to Barras—The command of the army handed over to Bonaparte—The morning of the 18th Brumaire—Meeting of the generals at Bonaparte's house—Bernadotte's firmness—Josephine's interest in Madame Gohier—Disappointment of the Directors—Review in the gardens of the Tuileries—Bonaparte's speech—Proclamation of the Ancients—Moreau, warden of the Luxembourg—My conversation with La Vallette—Bonaparte at St. Cloud.







      The parts of the great drama which was shortly to be enacted were well
      distributed. During the three days preceding the 18th Brumaire every one
      was at his post. Lucien, with equal activity and intelligence, forwarded
      the conspiracy in the two Councils; Sieyès had the management of the
      Directory; Réal,
    
The elements of the significant drama that was about to unfold were effectively allocated. In the three days leading up to the 18th Brumaire, everyone was in position. Lucien skillfully and intelligently advanced the conspiracy in the two Councils; Sieyès oversaw the Directory; Réal,






 —[Pierre Francois Réal (1757-1834); public accuser before the
   revolutionary criminal tribunal; became, under Napoleon, Conseiller
   d'Etat and Comte, and was charged with the affairs of the "haute
   police."]— 
 —[Pierre Francois Réal (1757-1834); public prosecutor before the revolutionary criminal court; later became, under Napoleon, a Councillor of State and Count, and was responsible for "high police" affairs.]—







      under the instructions of Fouché,
    
under Fouché's instructions,






 —[Joseph Fouché (1754-1820); Conventionalist; member of extreme
   Jacobin party; Minister of Police under the Directory, August 1799;
   retained by Napoleon in that Ministry till 1802, and again from 1804
   to 1810; became Duc d'Otrante in 1809; disgraced in 1810, and sent in
   1813 as governor of the Illyrian Provinces; Minister of Police
   during the 'Cent Jours'; President of the Provisional Government,
   1815; and for a short time Minister of Police under second
   restoration.]— 
—[Joseph Fouché (1754-1820); Conventionalist; member of the extreme Jacobin party; Minister of Police under the Directory, August 1799; kept on by Napoleon in that role until 1802, and again from 1804 to 1810; became Duc d'Otrante in 1809; fell from grace in 1810, and in 1813 was appointed governor of the Illyrian Provinces; served as Minister of Police during the 'Cent Jours'; President of the Provisional Government, 1815; and briefly served as Minister of Police during the second restoration.]—







      negotiated with the departments, and dexterously managed, without
      compromising Fouché, to ruin those from whom that Minister had received
      his power. There was no time to lose; and Fouché said to me on the 14th
      Brumaire, "Tell your General to be speedy; if he delays, he is lost."
    
negotiated with the departments and skillfully handled the situation, without putting Fouché at risk, to undermine those who had given that Minister his authority. There was no time to waste; and Fouché told me on the 14th of Brumaire, "Tell your General to act quickly; if he hesitates, he’s finished."







      On the 17th, Regnault de St. Jean d'Angély told Bonaparte that the
      overtures made to Cambacérès and Lebrun had not been received in a very
      decided way. "I will have no tergiversation," replied Bonaparte with
      warmth. "Let them not flatter themselves that I stand in need of them.
      They must decide to-day; to-morrow will be too late. I feel myself strong
      enough now to stand alone."
    
On the 17th, Regnault de St. Jean d'Angély told Bonaparte that the proposals made to Cambacérès and Lebrun hadn't been taken very seriously. "I won’t tolerate any hesitation," Bonaparte responded passionately. "They shouldn’t think I need them. They must make a decision today; tomorrow will be too late. I feel strong enough now to go it alone."







      Cambacérès
    
Cambacérès






 —[Cambacérès (J. J. Régis de) (1763-1824) Conventionalist; Minister
   of Justice under Directory, 1799; second Consul, 25th December 1799;
   Arch-Chancellor of the Empire, 1804; Duc de Parma, 1806; Minister of
   Justice during the 'Cent Jours': took great part in all the legal
   and administrative projects of the Consulate and Empire.]— 
—[Cambacérès (J. J. Régis de) (1763-1824) Conventionalist; Minister  
of Justice under the Directory, 1799; second Consul, December 25, 1799;  
Arch-Chancellor of the Empire, 1804; Duke of Parma, 1806; Minister of  
Justice during the 'Cent Jours': played a significant role in all the legal  
and administrative projects of the Consulate and Empire.]—







      and Lebrun
    
and Lebrun






 —[Charles Francois Lebrun (1757-1824). Deputy to the National
   Assembly, and member of the Council of the Five Hundred; Third
   Consul, 25th December 1799; Arch-Treasurer of the Empire, 1804; Duc
   de Plaisance, 1806; Governor-General of Holland, 1806; Lieutenant-
   Governor of Holland, 1810 to 1813; chiefly engaged in financial
   measures]— 
 —[Charles Francois Lebrun (1757-1824). Deputy to the National Assembly and member of the Council of the Five Hundred; Third Consul, December 25, 1799; Arch-Treasurer of the Empire, 1804; Duke of Plaisance, 1806; Governor-General of Holland, 1806; Lieutenant-Governor of Holland, 1810 to 1813; mainly focused on financial policies]— 







      were almost utter strangers to the intrigues which preceded the 18th
      Brumaire. Bonaparte had cast his eyes on the Minister of Justice to be one
      of his colleagues when he should be at liberty to name them, because his
      previous conduct had pledged him as a partisan of the Revolution. To him
      Bonaparte added Lebrun, to counterbalance the first choice. Lebrun was
      distinguished for honourable conduct and moderate principles. By selecting
      these two men Bonaparte hoped to please every one; besides, neither of
      them were able to contend against his fixed determination and ambitious
      views.
    
were almost complete strangers to the events leading up to the 18th Brumaire. Bonaparte had his eyes set on the Minister of Justice to be one of his colleagues when he was free to make those choices, since his past actions showed he was a supporter of the Revolution. Bonaparte also included Lebrun in his selection to balance out his first choice. Lebrun was known for his honorable behavior and moderate views. By choosing these two men, Bonaparte hoped to win over everyone; moreover, neither of them was strong enough to challenge his firm resolve and ambitious goals.







      What petty intrigues marked the 17th Brumaire! On that day I dined with
      Bonaparte; and after dinner he said, "I have promised to dine to-morrow
      with Gohier; but, as you may readily suppose, I do not intend going.
      However, I am very sorry for his obstinacy. By way of restoring his
      confidence Josephine is going to invite him to breakfast with us
      to-morrow. It will be impossible for him to suspect anything. I saw Barras
      this morning, and left him much disturbed. He asked me to return and visit
      him to-night. I promised to do so, but I shall not go. To-morrow all will
      be over. There is but little time; he expects me at eleven o'clock
      to-night. You shall therefore take my carriage, go there, send in my name,
      and then enter yourself. Tell him that a severe headache confines me to my
      bed, but that I will be with him without fail tomorrow. Bid him not be
      alarmed, for all will soon be right again. Elude his questions as much as
      possible; do not stay long, and come to me on your return."
    
What petty intrigues marked the 17th Brumaire! That day I had dinner with Bonaparte, and after we ate, he said, "I promised to have dinner tomorrow with Gohier, but as you can easily guess, I don’t plan on going. However, I feel bad about his stubbornness. To help restore his confidence, Josephine is going to invite him to breakfast with us tomorrow. There’s no way he’ll suspect anything. I saw Barras this morning, and he seemed quite upset. He asked me to come back and visit him tonight. I promised I would, but I won't actually go. By tomorrow, it will all be done. There’s not much time left; he expects me at eleven tonight. So, you’ll take my carriage, go over there, mention my name, and then go in yourself. Tell him that a bad headache is keeping me in bed, but that I’ll definitely see him tomorrow. Tell him not to worry, because everything will be fine soon. Avoid his questions as much as you can; don’t stay long, and come back to me afterward."







      At precisely eleven o'clock I reached the residence of Barras, in General
      Bonaparte's carriage. Solitude and silence prevailed in all the apartments
      through which I passed to Barras' cabinet. Bonaparte was announced, and
      when Barras saw me enter instead of him, he manifested the greatest
      astonishment and appeared much cast down. It was easy to perceive that he
      looked on himself as a lost man. I executed my commission, and stayed only
      a short time. I rose to take my leave, and he said, while showing me out,
      "I see that Bonaparte is deceiving me: he will not come again. He has
      settled everything; yet to me he owes all." I repeated that he would
      certainly come tomorrow, but he shook his head in a way which plainly
      denoted that he did not believe me. When I gave Bonaparte an account of my
      visit he appeared much pleased. He told me that Joseph was going to call
      that evening on Bernadotte, and to ask him to come tomorrow. I replied
      that, from all I knew, he would be of no use to him. "I believe so too,"
      said he; "but he can no longer injure me, and that is enough. Well,
      good-night; be here at seven in the morning." It was then one o'clock.
    
At exactly eleven o'clock, I arrived at Barras's place in General Bonaparte's carriage. The mood was quiet and still in all the rooms I passed through to reach Barras's office. When Barras saw me enter instead of Bonaparte, he looked incredibly surprised and seemed quite dejected. It was clear he felt like a defeated man. I completed my task and stayed for just a little while. As I stood to leave, he said while walking me out, "I see that Bonaparte is deceiving me: he won’t be back. He’s made all his arrangements, yet he owes everything to me." I assured him that Bonaparte would definitely come tomorrow, but he shook his head in a way that showed he didn’t believe me. When I reported back to Bonaparte about my visit, he seemed very pleased. He told me that Joseph was going to visit Bernadotte that evening to invite him to come tomorrow. I replied that, from what I knew, he wouldn’t be of any help. "I think so too," he said; "but he can't hurt me anymore, and that's enough. Well, goodnight; be here at seven in the morning." It was then one o'clock.







      I was with him a little before seven o'clock on the morning of the 18th
      Brumaire, and on my arrival I found a great number of generals and
      officers assembled. I entered Bonaparte's chamber, and found him already
      up—a thing rather unusual with him. At this moment he was as calm as
      on the approach of a battle. In a few moments Joseph and Bernadotte
      arrived. Joseph had not found him at home on the preceding evening, and
      had called for him that morning. I was surprised to see Bernadotte in
      plain clothes, and I stepped up to him and said in a low voice, "General,
      every one here, except you and I, is in uniform."—"Why should I be
      in uniform?" said he. As he uttered these words Bonaparte, struck with the
      same surprise as myself, stopped short while speaking to several persons
      around him, and turning quickly towards Bernadotte said, "How is this? you
      are not in uniform!"—"I never am on a morning when I am not on
      duty," replied Bernadotte.—"You will be on duty presently."—"I
      have not heard a word of it: I should have received my orders sooner."
    
I was with him a little before seven o'clock on the morning of the 18th Brumaire, and when I arrived, I found a large number of generals and officers gathered. I went into Bonaparte's room and found him already awake—a bit unusual for him. At that moment, he was as calm as he would be right before a battle. A few moments later, Joseph and Bernadotte arrived. Joseph hadn’t found him at home the night before, so he had come by that morning. I was surprised to see Bernadotte in plain clothes, so I walked over to him and said quietly, “General, everyone here, except you and me, is in uniform.” —“Why should I be in uniform?” he replied. Just then, Bonaparte, equally surprised, stopped talking to several people nearby and quickly turned to Bernadotte, saying, “What’s going on? You’re not in uniform!” —“I never wear it on a morning when I'm not on duty,” Bernadotte replied. —“You’ll be on duty soon.” —“I haven't heard anything about it; I should have gotten my orders earlier.”







      Bonaparte then led Bernadotte into an adjoining room. Their conversation
      was not long, for there was no time to spare.
    
Bonaparte then took Bernadotte into a nearby room. Their conversation didn't last long, as there wasn’t much time to waste.







      On the other hand, by the influence of the principal conspirators the
      removal of the legislative body to St. Cloud was determined on the morning
      of the 18th Brumaire, and the command of the army was given to Bonaparte.
    
On the other hand, due to the influence of the main conspirators, the decision was made on the morning of the 18th Brumaire to move the legislative body to St. Cloud, and command of the army was handed over to Bonaparte.







      All this time Barras was no doubt waiting for Bonaparte, and Madame
      Bonaparte was expecting Gohier to breakfast. At Bonaparte's were assembled
      all the generals who were devoted to him. I never saw so great a number
      before in the Rue de la Victoire. They were all, except Bernadotte, in
      full uniform; and there were, besides, half a dozen persons there
      initiated in the secrets of the day. The little hotel of the conqueror of
      Italy was much too small for such an assemblage, and several persons were
      standing in the court-yard. Bonaparte was acquainted with the decree of
      the Council of the Ancients, and only waited for its being brought to him
      before he should mount his horse. That decree was adopted in the Council
      of the Ancients by what may be called a false majority, for the members of
      the Council were summoned at different hours, and it was so contrived that
      sixty or eighty of them, whom Lucien and his friends had not been able to
      gain over, should not receive their notices in time.
    
All this time, Barras was probably waiting for Bonaparte, and Madame Bonaparte was expecting Gohier for breakfast. At Bonaparte's place, all the generals who were loyal to him had gathered. I had never seen so many before in Rue de la Victoire. They were all, except Bernadotte, in full uniform; there were also about half a dozen people there who knew what was happening that day. The small hotel belonging to the conqueror of Italy was way too cramped for such a crowd, and several people were standing in the courtyard. Bonaparte knew about the decree from the Council of the Ancients and was just waiting for it to be brought to him before getting on his horse. That decree was passed in the Council of the Ancients by what could be called a false majority, because the members were called at different times, and it was arranged so that sixty or eighty of them, whom Lucien and his friends hadn't managed to sway, wouldn't get their notices in time.







      As soon as the message from the Council of the Ancients arrived Bonaparte
      requested all the officers at his house to follow him. At that
      announcement a few who were in ignorance of what was going on did not
      follow—at least I saw two groups separately leave the hotel.
      Bernadotte said to me, "I shall stay with you." I perceived there was a
      good deal of suspicion in his manner. Bonaparte, before going down the
      stairs which led from the small round dining-room into the courtyard,
      returned quickly to bid Bernadotte follow him. He would not, and Bonaparte
      then said to me, while hurrying off, "Gohier is not come—so much the
      worse for him," and leaped on his horse. Scarcely was he off when
      Bernadotte left me. Josephine and I being now left alone, she acquainted
      me with her anxiety. I assured her that everything had been so well
      prepared that success was certain. She felt much interest about Gohier on
      account of her friendship for his wife. She asked me whether I was well
      acquainted with Gohier. "You know, Madame," replied I, "that we have been
      only twenty days in Paris, and that during that time I have only gone out
      to sleep in the Rue Martel. I have seen M. Gohier several times, when he
      came to visit the General, and have talked to him about the situation of
      our affairs in Switzerland, Holland, France, and other political matters,
      but I never exchanged a word with him as to what is now going on. This is
      the whole extent of my acquaintance with him."
    
As soon as the message from the Council of the Ancients arrived, Bonaparte asked all the officers at his house to follow him. When he announced this, a few people who didn’t know what was happening didn’t join in—at least, I saw two separate groups leave the hotel. Bernadotte said to me, “I’ll stay with you.” I noticed he seemed quite suspicious. Before heading down the stairs from the small round dining room to the courtyard, Bonaparte quickly returned to urge Bernadotte to follow him. He refused, and Bonaparte then told me, as he hurried off, “Gohier hasn’t come—too bad for him,” and jumped on his horse. Barely had he left when Bernadotte parted ways with me. With Josephine and me now alone, she shared her worries. I assured her that everything had been arranged so well that success was guaranteed. She was very concerned about Gohier because of her friendship with his wife. She asked if I knew Gohier well. “You know, Madame,” I replied, “that we’ve only been in Paris for twenty days, and during that time, I’ve only gone out to sleep in the Rue Martel. I’ve seen Mr. Gohier a few times when he visited the General, and we’ve talked about our affairs in Switzerland, Holland, France, and other political issues, but I’ve never discussed what’s happening right now with him. That’s the extent of my acquaintance with him.”







      "I am sorry for it," resumed Josephine, "because I should have asked you
      to write to him, and beg him to make no stir, but imitate Sieyès and
      Roger, who will voluntarily retire, and not to join Barras, who is
      probably at this very moment forced to do so. Bonaparte has told me that
      if Gohier voluntarily resigns, he will do everything for him." I believe
      Josephine communicated directly with the President of the Directory
      through a friend of Madame Gohier's.
    
"I'm sorry about that," Josephine said again, "because I should have asked you to write to him and ask him to keep quiet, like Sieyès and Roger, who will step back on their own, and not to side with Barras, who is probably being pressured to do so right now. Bonaparte told me that if Gohier resigns willingly, he will do everything to help him." I think Josephine reached out directly to the President of the Directory through a friend of Madame Gohier's.







      Gohier and Moulins, no longer depending on Sieyès and Roger Ducos, waited
      for their colleague, Barras, in the hall of the Directory, to adopt some
      measure on the decree for removing the Councils to St. Cloud. But they
      were disappointed; for Barras, whose eyes had been opened by my visit on
      the preceding night, did not join them. He had been invisible to his
      colleagues from the moment that Bruix and M. de Talleyrand had informed
      him of the reality of what he already suspected, and insisted on his
      retirement.
    
Gohier and Moulins, no longer relying on Sieyès and Roger Ducos, waited for their colleague, Barras, in the hall of the Directory to make a decision on the decree to move the Councils to St. Cloud. But they were let down; Barras, whose eyes had been opened by my visit the night before, didn’t show up. He had been out of sight from his colleagues ever since Bruix and M. de Talleyrand had confirmed what he already suspected and urged him to step down.







      On the 18th Brumaire a great number of military, amounting to about 10,000
      men, were assembled in the gardens of the Tuileries, and were reviewed by
      Bonaparte, accompanied by Generals Beurnonville, Moreau, and Macdonald.
      Bonaparte read to them the decree just issued by the commission of
      inspectors of the Council of the Ancients, by which the legislative body
      was removed to St. Cloud; and by which he himself was entrusted with the
      execution of that decree, and appointed to the command of all the military
      force in Paris, and afterwards delivered an address to the troops.
    
On the 18th Brumaire, a large number of soldiers, around 10,000 men, gathered in the Tuileries gardens and were reviewed by Bonaparte, who was joined by Generals Beurnonville, Moreau, and Macdonald. Bonaparte announced to them the decree recently issued by the commission of inspectors from the Council of the Ancients, which stated that the legislative body was to be moved to St. Cloud; he was given the responsibility for carrying out that decree and appointed as the commander of all military forces in Paris, and then he gave a speech to the troops.







      Whilst Bonaparte was haranguing the soldiers, the Council of the Ancients
      published an address to the French people, in which it was declared that
      the seat of the legislative body was changed, in order to put down the
      factions, whose object was to control the national representation.
    
While Bonaparte was addressing the soldiers, the Council of the Ancients published a message to the French people, stating that the location of the legislative body was changed to suppress the factions that aimed to control the national representation.







      While all this was passing abroad I was at the General's house in the Rue
      de la Victoire; which I never left during the whole day. Madame Bonaparte
      and I were not without anxiety in Bonaparte's absence. I learned from
      Josephine that Joseph's wife had received a visit from Adjutant-General
      Rapatel, who had been sent by Bonaparte and Moreau to bring her husband to
      the Tuileries. Joseph was from home at the time, and so the message was
      useless. This circumstance, however, awakened hopes which we had scarcely
      dared to entertain. Moreau was then in accordance with Bonaparte, for
      Rapatel was sent in the name of both Generals. This alliance, so long
      despaired of, appeared to augur favourably. It was one of Bonaparte's
      happy strokes. Moreau, who was a slave to military discipline, regarded
      his successful rival only as a chief nominated by the Council of the
      Ancients. He received his orders and obeyed them. Bonaparte appointed him
      commander of the guard of the Luxembourg, where the Directors were under
      confinement. He accepted the command, and no circumstance could have
      contributed more effectually to the accomplishment of Bonaparte's views
      and to the triumph of his ambition.
    
While all this was happening outside, I was at the General's house on Rue de la Victoire; I stayed there all day. Madame Bonaparte and I were quite anxious in Bonaparte's absence. I found out from Josephine that Joseph's wife had been visited by Adjutant-General Rapatel, who had been sent by Bonaparte and Moreau to bring her husband to the Tuileries. Joseph was not home at the time, so the message was pointless. However, this situation sparked hopes we had barely dared to have. Moreau was then in agreement with Bonaparte, since Rapatel was sent in the name of both Generals. This long-desired alliance seemed promising. It was one of Bonaparte's clever moves. Moreau, who was strictly disciplined in the military, saw his successful rival merely as a leader appointed by the Council of the Ancients. He followed orders and obeyed. Bonaparte made him the commander of the guard at the Luxembourg, where the Directors were being held. He accepted the command, and nothing could have helped achieve Bonaparte's goals and the success of his ambitions more effectively.







      At length Bonaparte, whom we had impatiently expected, returned. Almost
      everything had gone well with him, for he had had only to do with
      soldiers. In the evening he said to me, "I am sure that the committee of
      inspectors of the hall are at this very moment engaged in settling what is
      to be done at St. Cloud to-morrow. It is better to let them decide the
      matter, for by that means their vanity is flattered. I will obey orders
      which I have myself concerted." What Bonaparte was speaking of had been
      arranged nearly two or three days previously. The committee of inspectors
      was under the influence of the principal conspirators.
    
Finally, Bonaparte, who we had been anxiously waiting for, returned. Almost everything had gone smoothly for him since he had only been dealing with soldiers. In the evening, he said to me, "I’m sure the committee of inspectors in the hall is currently figuring out what to do at St. Cloud tomorrow. It’s better to let them make the decision, as it flatters their ego. I’ll follow orders that I’ve arranged myself." What Bonaparte was referring to had been planned nearly two or three days earlier. The committee of inspectors was influenced by the main conspirators.







      In the evening of this anxious day, which was destined to be succeeded by
      a stormy morrow, Bonaparte, pleased with having gained over Moreau, spoke
      to me of Bernadotte's visit in the morning.—"I saw," said he, "that
      you were as much astonished as I at Bernadotte's behaviour. A general out
      of uniform! He might as well have come in slippers. Do you know what
      passed when I took him aside? I told him all; I thought that the best way.
      I assured him that his Directory was hated, and his Constitution worn out;
      that it was necessary to turn them all off, and give another impulse to
      the government. 'Go and put on your uniform said I: I cannot wait for you
      long. You will find me at the Tuileries, with the rest of our comrades. Do
      not depend on Moreau, Beurnonville, or the generals of your party. When
      you know them better you will find that they promise much but perform
      little. Do not trust them.' Bernadotte then said that he would not take
      part in what he called a rebellion. A rebellion! Bourrienne, only think of
      that! A set of imbeciles, who from morning to night do nothing but debate
      in their kennels! But all was in vain. I could not move Bernadotte. He is
      a bar of iron. I asked him to give me his word that he would do nothing
      against me; what do you think was his answer?"—"Something
      unpleasant, no doubt."—"Unpleasant! that is too mild a word. He
      said, 'I will remain quiet as a citizen; but if the Directory order me to
      act, I will march against all disturbers.' But I can laugh at all that
      now. My measures are taken, and he will have no command. However, I set
      him at ease as to what would take place. I flattered him with a picture of
      private life, the pleasures of the country, and the charms of Malmaison;
      and I left him with his head full of pastoral dreams. In a word, I am very
      well satisfied with my day's work. Good-night, Bourrienne; we shall see
      what will turn up to-morrow."
    
In the evening of this anxious day, which was set to be followed by a stormy tomorrow, Bonaparte, pleased that he had won over Moreau, talked to me about Bernadotte's visit in the morning. "I noticed," he said, "that you were just as shocked as I was by Bernadotte's behavior. A general out of uniform! He might as well have shown up in slippers. Do you know what happened when I pulled him aside? I told him everything; I thought that was the best approach. I made it clear that his Directory was despised, and his Constitution was obsolete; that it was necessary to get rid of them all and give the government a fresh start. 'Go and put on your uniform,' I said, 'I can't wait for you long. You'll find me at the Tuileries with the rest of our comrades. Don’t rely on Moreau, Beurnonville, or the generals in your party. When you get to know them better, you’ll see they promise a lot but deliver little. Don’t trust them.' Bernadotte then said he wouldn’t participate in what he called a rebellion. A rebellion! Bourrienne, just think about that! A bunch of fools who spend all day arguing in their lairs! But it was all pointless. I couldn’t budge Bernadotte. He’s as stubborn as iron. I asked him to promise me he wouldn’t act against me; guess what his answer was?"—"Something unpleasant, I imagine."—"Unpleasant! That’s too mild. He said, 'I will stay quiet as a citizen; but if the Directory orders me to act, I will march against any troublemakers.' But I can laugh about it now. I have my plans in place, and he won’t have any command. However, I reassured him about what was going to happen. I painted an appealing picture of private life, the joys of the countryside, and the charms of Malmaison; and I left him dreaming of pastoral bliss. In short, I’m very pleased with what I accomplished today. Good night, Bourrienne; we’ll see what comes up tomorrow."







      On the 19th I went to St. Cloud with my friend La Vallette. As we passed
      the Place Louis XV., now Louis XVI., he asked me what Napoleon was doing,
      and what my opinion was as to the coming events? Without entering into any
      detail I replied, "My friend, either we shall sleep tomorrow at the
      Luxembourg, or there will be an end of us." Who could tell which of the
      two things would happen! Success legalised a bold enterprise, which the
      slightest accident might have changed into a crime.
    
On the 19th, I went to St. Cloud with my friend La Vallette. As we passed the Place Louis XV., now Louis XVI., he asked me what Napoleon was up to, and what I thought about the upcoming events. Without getting into details, I replied, "My friend, either we’ll be sleeping at the Luxembourg tomorrow or it’ll be the end of us." Who could say which would happen! Success legitimated a daring move, which the smallest mishap could have turned into a crime.







      The sitting of the Ancients, under the presidency of Lemercier, commenced
      at one o'clock. A warm discussion took place upon the situation of
      affairs, the resignation of the members of the Directory, and the
      immediate election of others. Great heat and agitation prevailed during
      the debate. Intelligence was every minute carried to Bonaparte of what was
      going forward, and he determined to enter the hall and take part in the
      discussion. He entered in a hasty and angry way, which did not give me a
      favourable foreboding of what he was about to say. We passed through a
      narrow passage to the centre of the hall; our backs were turned to the
      door. Bonaparte had the President to his right. He could not see him full
      in the face. I was close to the General on his right. Berthier was at his
      left.
    
The meeting of the Ancients, led by Lemercier, started at one o'clock. A heated discussion erupted about the current situation, the resignation of the Directory members, and the urgent election of their replacements. There was a lot of tension and excitement during the debate. Every minute, updates were sent to Bonaparte about what was happening, and he decided to enter the hall and join the discussion. He came in quickly and angrily, which made me uneasy about what he would say. We moved through a narrow passage to the center of the hall, with our backs to the door. Bonaparte had the President to his right and couldn’t see him directly. I was right next to the General on his right, and Berthier was on his left.







      All the speeches which have been subsequently passed off as having been
      delivered by Bonaparte on this occasion differ from each other; as well
      they may, for he delivered none to the Ancients, unless his confused
      conversation with the President, which was alike devoid of dignity and
      sense, is to be called a speech. He talked of his "brothers in arms" and
      the "frankness of a soldier." The questions of the President followed each
      other rapidly: they were clear; but it is impossible to conceive anything
      more confused or worse delivered than the ambiguous and perplexed replies
      of Bonaparte. He talked without end of "volcanoes; secret agitations,
      victories, a violated constitution!" He blamed the proceedings of the 18th
      Fructidor, of which he was the first promoter and the most powerful
      supporter. He pretended to be ignorant of everything until the Council of
      Ancients had called him to the aid of his country. Then came "Caesar—Cromwell—tyrant!"
      and he several times repeated, "I have nothing more to say to you!"
      though, in fact, he had said nothing. He alleged that he had been called
      to assume the supreme authority, on his return from Italy, by the desire
      of the nation, and afterwards by his comrades in arms. Next followed the
      words "liberty—equality!" though it was evident he had not come to
      St. Cloud for the sake of either. No sooner did he utter these words, than
      a member of the Ancients, named, I think, Linglet, interrupting him,
      exclaimed, "You forget the Constitution!" His countenance immediately
      lighted up; yet nothing could be distinguished but, "The 18th Fructidor—the
      30th Prairial—hypocrites—intriguers—I will disclose all!—I
      will resign my power, when the danger which threatens the Republic shall
      have passed away!"
    
All the speeches that have since been falsely attributed to Bonaparte on this occasion vary from one another; understandably so, since he didn't actually deliver any to the Ancients, unless you count his muddled conversation with the President, which lacked both dignity and coherence, as a speech. He mentioned his "brothers in arms" and "the straightforwardness of a soldier." The President’s questions came quickly and were straightforward, but Bonaparte’s replies were nothing short of confusing and poorly expressed. He rambled on about "volcanoes; secret unrest, victories, a violated constitution!" He criticized the events of the 18th Fructidor, which he had initially sparked and strongly supported. He claimed to know nothing until the Council of Ancients called on him to help his country. Then he referenced "Caesar—Cromwell—tyrant!" and repeatedly stated, "I have nothing more to say to you!" even though he hadn’t really said anything. He claimed he was called to take on supreme authority after returning from Italy by the will of the nation and then by his fellow soldiers. He next threw out the phrases "liberty—equality!" although it was clear he didn't come to St. Cloud for those reasons. As soon as he said those words, a member of the Ancients, named, I think, Linglet, interrupted him, exclaiming, "You’re forgetting the Constitution!" His expression immediately changed, but all that came out was, "The 18th Fructidor—the 30th Prairial—hypocrites—intriguers—I will reveal everything!—I will step down when the threat to the Republic has passed!"







      Bonaparte, believing all his assertions to be admitted as proved, assumed
      a little confidence, and accused the two directors Barras and Moulins of
      having proposed to put him at the head of a party whose object was to
      oppose all men professing liberal ideas.
    
Bonaparte, thinking that everyone accepted his claims as facts, grew a bit more confident and accused the two directors, Barras and Moulins, of trying to appoint him as the leader of a group aimed at opposing anyone who supported liberal ideas.







      At these words, the falsehood of which was odious, a great tumult arose in
      the hall. A general committee was loudly called for to hear the
      disclosures. "No, no!" exclaimed others, "no general committee!
      conspirators have been denounced: it is right that France should know
      all!"
    
At these words, which were blatantly false, a huge uproar erupted in the hall. People loudly demanded a general committee to hear the revelations. "No, no!" shouted others, "no general committee! The conspirators have been exposed: it's important for France to know everything!"







      Bonaparte was then required to enter into the particulars of his
      accusation against Barras and Moulins, and of the proposals which had been
      made to him: "You must no longer conceal anything."
    
Bonaparte was then asked to provide details about his accusations against Barras and Moulins, as well as the proposals that had been made to him: "You must not hide anything anymore."







      Embarrassed by these interruptions and interrogatories Bonaparte believed
      that he was completely lost. Instead of giving an explanation of what he
      had said, he began to make fresh accusations; and against whom? The
      Council of the Five Hundred, who, he said, wished for "scaffolds,
      revolutionary committees, and a complete overthrow of everything."
    
Embarrassed by these interruptions and questions, Bonaparte thought he was totally defeated. Instead of explaining what he had said, he started making new accusations; and against whom? The Council of the Five Hundred, whom he claimed wanted "scaffolds, revolutionary committees, and a total overthrow of everything."







      Violent murmurs arose, and his language became more and more incoherent
      and inconsequent. He addressed himself at one moment to the
      representatives of the people, who were quite overcome by astonishment; at
      another to the military in the courtyard, who could not hear him. Then, by
      an unaccountable transition, he spoke of "the thunderbolts of war!" and
      added, that he was "attended by the God of war and the God of fortune."
    
Violent murmurs erupted, and his speech grew increasingly incoherent and nonsensical. He at one point spoke to the representatives of the people, who were completely taken aback; at another, he addressed the military in the courtyard, who couldn't hear him. Then, in a bizarre shift, he talked about "the thunderbolts of war!" and added that he was "accompanied by the God of war and the God of fortune."







      The President, with great calmness, told him that he saw nothing,
      absolutely nothing, upon which the Council could deliberate; that there
      was vagueness in all he had said. "Explain yourself; reveal the plot which
      you say you were urged to join."
    
The President, completely composed, told him that he saw nothing,  
      absolutely nothing, for the Council to discuss; that everything he had said was unclear. "Clarify yourself; uncover the scheme you claim you were encouraged to join."







      Bonaparte repeated again the same things. But only those who were present
      can form any idea of his manner. There was not the slightest connection in
      what he stammered out. Bonaparte was then no orator. It may well be
      supposed that he was more accustomed to the din of war than to the
      discussions of the tribunes. He was more at home before a battery than
      before a President's chair.
    
Bonaparte repeated the same things again. But only those who were there can really understand his style. There was no real connection in what he stumbled through. Bonaparte was not an orator at that time. It's easy to think he was more used to the noise of battle than to political discussions. He felt more comfortable in front of a cannon than in front of a president's chair.







      Perceiving the bad effect which this unconnected babbling produced on the
      assembly, as well as the embarrassment of Bonaparte, I said, in a low
      voice, pulling him gently by the skirt of his coat, "withdraw, General;
      you know not what you are saying." I made signs to Berthier, who was on
      his left, to second me in persuading him to leave the hall; and all at
      once, after having stammered out a few more words, he turned round
      exclaiming, "Let those who love me follow me!" The sentinels at the door
      offered no opposition to his passing. The person who went before him
      quietly drew aside the tapestry which concealed the door, and General
      Bonaparte leaped upon his horse, which stood in the court-yard. It is hard
      to say what would have happened if, on seeing the General retire, the
      President had said, "Grenadiers, let no one pass!" Instead of sleeping
      next day at the Luxembourg he would, I am convinced, have ended his career
      on the Place de la Revolution.
    
Noticing the negative impact this random chatter was having on the crowd and how uncomfortable Bonaparte looked, I quietly said, gently pulling at his coat, "Step back, General; you don’t realize what you're saying." I gestured to Berthier, who was on his left, to help persuade him to leave the hall; and suddenly, after stumbling over a few more words, he turned around, shouting, "Those who love me, follow me!" The guards at the door made no move to stop him. The person leading the way calmly pulled aside the curtain that covered the door, and General Bonaparte jumped onto his horse waiting in the courtyard. It’s hard to tell what might have happened if, seeing the General leave, the President had ordered, "Grenadiers, don’t let anyone pass!" Instead of spending the following night at the Luxembourg, I’m sure he would have ended up meeting his fate at Place de la Revolution.








 


 




















      CHAPTER XXV.
    



      1799.
    
1799.


   The two Councils—Barras' letter—Bonaparte at the Council of the
   Five Hundred—False reports—Tumultuous sitting—Lucien's speech—
   He resigns the Presidency of the Council of the Five Hundred—He is
   carried out by grenadiers—He harangues the troops—A dramatic scene
   —Murat and his soldiers drive out the Five Hundred—Council of
   Thirty—Consular commission—Decree—Return to Paris—Conversation
   with Bonaparte and Josephine respecting Gohier and Bernadotte—The
   directors Gohier and Moulins imprisoned.

   The two Councils—Barras' letter—Bonaparte at the Council of the Five Hundred—False reports—Chaotic session—Lucien's speech—He steps down as President of the Council of the Five Hundred—He is carried out by grenadiers—He speaks to the troops—A dramatic moment—Murat and his soldiers expel the Five Hundred—Council of Thirty—Consular commission—Decree—Return to Paris—Discussion with Bonaparte and Josephine about Gohier and Bernadotte—The directors Gohier and Moulins are imprisoned.







      The scene which occurred at the sitting of the Council of the Ancients was
      very different from that which passed outside. Bonaparte had scarcely
      reached the courtyard and mounted his horse when cries of "Vive
      Bonaparte!" resounded on all sides. But this was only a sunbeam between
      two storms. He had yet to brave the Council of the Five Hundred, which was
      far more excited than the Council of the Ancients. Everything tended to
      create a dreadful uncertainty; but it was too late to draw back. We had
      already staked too heavily. The game was desperate, and everything was to
      be ventured. In a few hours all would be determined.
    
The scene at the Council of the Ancients was very different from what was happening outside. Bonaparte had barely reached the courtyard and gotten on his horse when shouts of "Long live Bonaparte!" rang out all around. But this was just a brief moment of sunshine between two storms. He still had to face the Council of the Five Hundred, which was much more agitated than the Council of the Ancients. Everything was building towards a frightening uncertainty; but it was too late to back down. We had already put too much on the line. The situation was desperate, and everything was at stake. In a few hours, everything would be decided.







      Our apprehensions were not without foundation. In the Council of the Five
      Hundred agitation was at its height. The most serious alarm marked its
      deliberations. It had been determined to announce to the Directory the
      installation of the Councils, and to inquire of the Council of the
      Ancients their reasons for resolving upon an extraordinary convocation.
      But the Directory no longer existed. Sieyès and Roger Ducos had joined
      Bonaparte's party. Gohier and Moulins were prisoners in the Luxembourg,
      and in the custody of General Moreau; and at the very moment when the
      Council of the Five Hundred had drawn up a message to the Directory, the
      Council of the Ancients transmitted to them the following letter, received
      from Barras. This letter; which was addressed to the Council of the
      Ancients, was immediately read by Lucien Bonaparte, who was President of
      the Council of the Five Hundred.
    
Our fears were not unfounded. In the Council of the Five Hundred, tension was at its peak. There was serious concern during their discussions. They had decided to inform the Directory about the installation of the Councils and to ask the Council of the Ancients for their reasons for calling an extraordinary meeting. But the Directory no longer existed. Sieyès and Roger Ducos had joined forces with Bonaparte. Gohier and Moulins were being held as prisoners in the Luxembourg, under the guard of General Moreau; and at the very moment when the Council of the Five Hundred was drafting a message to the Directory, the Council of the Ancients sent them the following letter they had received from Barras. This letter, addressed to the Council of the Ancients, was immediately read by Lucien Bonaparte, who was the President of the Council of the Five Hundred.






   CITIZEN PRESIDENT—Having entered into public affairs solely from my
   love of liberty, I consented to share the first magistracy of the
   State only that I might be able to defend it in danger; to protect
   against their enemies the patriots compromised in its cause; and to
   ensure to the defenders of their country that attention to their
   interests which no one was more calculated to feel than a citizen,
   long the witness of their heroic virtues, and always sensible to
   their wants.

   The glory which accompanies the return of the illustrious warrior to
   whom I had the honour of opening the path of glory, the striking
   marks of confidence given him by the legislative body, and the
   decree of the National Convention, convince me that, to whatever
   post he may henceforth be called, the dangers to liberty will be
   averted, and the interests of the army ensured.

   I cheerfully return to the rank of a private citizen: happy, after
   so many storms, to resign, unimpaired, and even more glorious than
   ever, the destiny of the Republic, which has been, in part,
   committed to my care.
                    (Signed) BARRAS.

   CITIZEN PRESIDENT—I got involved in public affairs purely out of my love for freedom. I agreed to take on the highest office in the State only so I could defend it in times of danger; to protect the patriots who were putting themselves at risk for its cause; and to guarantee that those defending their country would receive the attention they needed, which no one is better suited to understand than a citizen who has long witnessed their heroic efforts and is always aware of their needs.

   The honor that comes with the return of the distinguished warrior, to whom I had the privilege of paving the way to glory, the strong signs of trust bestowed upon him by the legislative body, and the decree from the National Convention, convince me that, no matter what position he is called to next, the threats to freedom will be avoided, and the interests of the army protected.

   I gladly go back to being a private citizen: happy, after so many challenges, to hand over the future of the Republic, which has been partly in my care, not damaged and even more glorious than before.  
                    (Signed) BARRAS.







      This letter occasioned a great sensation in the Council of the Five
      Hundred. A second reading was called for, and a question was started,
      whether the retirement was legal, or was the result of collusion, and of
      the influence of Bonaparte's agents; whether to believe Barras, who
      declared the dangers of liberty averted, or the decree for the removal of
      the legislative corps, which was passed and executed under the pretext of
      the existence of imminent peril? At that moment Bonaparte appeared,
      followed by a party of grenadiers, who remained at the entrance of the
      hall.
    
This letter caused a huge stir in the Council of the Five Hundred. A second reading was requested, and a debate began about whether the resignation was legitimate or a result of collusion and the influence of Bonaparte's agents; whether to trust Barras, who claimed the threats to liberty were gone, or the decree for the removal of the legislative body, which was passed and enforced under the guise of an imminent danger? At that moment, Bonaparte showed up, followed by a group of grenadiers who stayed at the entrance of the hall.







      I did not accompany him to the Council of the Five Hundred. He had
      directed me to send off an express to ease the apprehensions of Josephine,
      and to assure her that everything would go well. It was some time before I
      joined him again.
    
I didn't go with him to the Council of the Five Hundred. He asked me to send a fast message to put Josephine's mind at ease and to let her know that everything would be fine. It took a while before I met up with him again.







      However, without speaking as positively as if I had myself been an
      eye-witness of the scene, I do not hesitate to declare that all that has
      been said about assaults and poniards is pure invention. I rely on what
      was told me, on the very night, by persons well worthy of credit, and who
      were witnessess of all that passed.
    
However, without claiming I saw the scene myself, I can confidently say that everything mentioned about attacks and daggers is purely made up. I’m basing this on what I was told that very night by people I trust, who witnessed everything that happened.







      As to what passed at the sitting, the accounts, given both at the time and
      since, have varied according to opinions. Some have alleged that unanimous
      cries of indignation were excited by the appearance of the military. From
      all parts of the hall resounded, "The sanctuary of the laws is violated.
      Down with the tyrant!—down with Cromwell!—down with the
      Dictator!" Bonaparte stammered out a few words, as he had done before the
      Council of the Ancients, but his voice was immediately drowned by cries of
      "Vive la Republique!" "Vive la Constitution!" "Outlaw the Dictator!" The
      grenadiers are then said to have rushed forward, exclaiming, "Let us save
      our General!" at which indignation reached its height, and cries, even
      more violent than ever, were raised; that Bonaparte, falling insensible
      into the arms of the grenadiers, said, "They mean to assassinate me!" All
      that regards the exclamations and threats I believe to be correct; but I
      rank with the story of the poniards the assertion of the members of the
      Five Hundred being provided with firearms, and the grenadiers rushing into
      the hall; because Bonaparte never mentioned a word of anything of the sort
      to me, either on the way home, or when I was with him in his chamber.
      Neither did he say anything on the subject to his wife, who had been
      extremely agitated by the different reports which reached her.
    
As for what happened during the meeting, the accounts, both then and since, have varied based on opinions. Some claimed that loud cries of outrage erupted when the military showed up. From all corners of the hall, people shouted, "The sanctuary of the laws is being violated! Down with the tyrant! Down with Cromwell! Down with the Dictator!" Bonaparte stumbled through a few words, just like he had done before the Council of the Ancients, but his voice was quickly drowned out by shouts of "Long live the Republic!" "Long live the Constitution!" "Outlaw the Dictator!" The grenadiers then reportedly rushed forward, shouting, "Let's save our General!" This pushed the outrage to new heights, and even louder cries broke out; Bonaparte, falling unconscious into the arms of the grenadiers, reportedly exclaimed, "They are trying to kill me!" I believe the details about the shouting and threats are accurate, but I consider the claims about the daggers and the assertion that members of the Five Hundred had guns, along with the grenadiers barging into the hall, to be exaggerated; Bonaparte never mentioned anything like that to me, either on the way home or when I was in his room. He didn’t say anything about it to his wife either, who had been very distressed by the various reports that reached her.







      After Bonaparte left the Council of the Five Hundred the deliberations
      were continued with great violence. The excitement caused by the
      appearance of Bonaparte was nothing like subsided when propositions of the
      most furious nature were made. The President, Lucien, did all in his power
      to restore tranquillity. As soon as he could make himself heard he said,
      "The scene which has just taken place in the Council proves what are the
      sentiments of all; sentiments which I declare are also mine. It was,
      however, natural to believe that the General had no other object than to
      render an account of the situation of affairs, and of something
      interesting to the public. But I think none of you can suppose him capable
      of projects hostile to liberty."
    
After Bonaparte left the Council of the Five Hundred, the discussions continued with intense fervor. The excitement triggered by Bonaparte's appearance had barely settled when proposals of an aggressive nature were brought forward. The President, Lucien, did everything he could to restore calm. Once he could be heard, he said, "The scene that just unfolded in the Council shows how everyone feels; feelings that I also share. However, it was only natural to think that the General had no other intention than to explain the current situation and share something of interest to the public. But I believe none of you can think he is capable of plans that threaten our freedom."







      Each sentence of Lucien's address was interrupted by cries of "Bonaparte
      has tarnished his glory! He is a disgrace to the Republic!"
    
Each sentence of Lucien's speech was interrupted by shouts of "Bonaparte has ruined his reputation! He is an embarrassment to the Republic!"






Lucien
   —[The next younger brother of Napoleon, President of the Council of
   the Five Hundred in 1799; Minister of the Interior, 1st December
   1799 to 1841; Ambassador in Spain, 1801 to December 1801; left
   France in disgrace in 1804; retired to Papal States; Prisoner in
   Malta and England, 1810 to 1814; created by Pope in 1814 Prince de
   Canino and Duc de Musignano; married firstly, 1794, Christine Boyer,
   who died 1800; married secondly, 1802 or 1803, a Madame Jonberthon.
   Of his part in the 18th Brumaire Napoleon said to him in 1807,
   "I well know that you were useful to me on the 18th Brumaire, but it
   is not so clear to me that you saved me then" (Iung's Lucien, tome
   iii. p.89).]— 
Lucien  
   —[The next younger brother of Napoleon, President of the Council of  
   the Five Hundred in 1799; Minister of the Interior, December 1, 1799 to 1841; Ambassador in Spain, 1801 to December 1801; left  
   France in disgrace in 1804; retired to the Papal States; imprisoned in  
   Malta and England, 1810 to 1814; created by the Pope in 1814 Prince de  
   Canino and Duc de Musignano; married first, 1794, Christine Boyer,  
   who died in 1800; married second, 1802 or 1803, a Madame Jonberthon.  
   Of his role in the 18th Brumaire, Napoleon said to him in 1807,  
   "I know you were helpful to me on the 18th Brumaire, but I'm not sure you actually saved me then" (Iung's Lucien, vol. iii, p.89).]—  







      made fresh efforts to be heard, and wished to be allowed to address the
      assembly as a member of the Council, and for that purpose resigned the
      Presidentship to Chasal. He begged that the General might be introduced
      again and heard with calmness. But this proposition was furiously opposed.
      Exclamations of "Outlaw Bonaparte! outlaw him!" rang through the assembly,
      and were the only reply given to the President. Lucien, who had reassumed
      the President's chair, left it a second time, that he might not be
      constrained to put the question of outlawry demanded against his brother.
      Braving the displeasure of the assembly, he mounted the tribune, resigned
      the Presidentship, renounced his seat as a deputy, and threw aside his
      robes.
    
made fresh efforts to be heard and wanted to be allowed to speak to the assembly as a member of the Council, so he stepped down from the Presidency and handed it over to Chasal. He requested that the General be introduced again and listened to calmly. But this suggestion was met with intense opposition. Shouts of "Outlaw Bonaparte! Outlaw him!" filled the assembly and were the only response given to the President. Lucien, who had taken the President’s chair again, left it a second time so he wouldn’t have to put the question of outlawing his brother to a vote. Defying the assembly's anger, he climbed up to the speaker's stand, resigned the Presidency, gave up his seat as a deputy, and discarded his ceremonial robes.







      Just as Lucien left the Council I entered. Bonaparte, who was well
      informed of all that was passing,
    
Just as Lucien was leaving the Council, I walked in. Bonaparte, who was up to date on everything that was happening,






 —[Lucien distinctly states that he himself, acting within his right
   as President, had demanded an escort of the grenadiers of the
   Councils as soon as he saw his withdrawal might be opposed.
   Then the first entry of the soldiers with Napoleon would be illegal.
   The second, to withdraw Lucien, was nominally legal (see Iung's
   Lucien, tome i, pp, 318-322)]— 
 —[Lucien clearly states that he, exercising his authority as President, requested an escort from the grenadiers of the Councils as soon as he realized his departure might face resistance. Therefore, the soldiers' initial entry with Napoleon would be unlawful. The second action, to remove Lucien, was technically legal (see Iung's Lucien, vol. i, pp. 318-322)]—







      had sent in soldiers to the assistance of his brother; they carried him
      off from the midst of the Council, and Bonaparte thought it a matter of no
      little importance to have with him the President of an assembly which he
      treated as rebellious. Lucien was reinstalled in office; but he was now to
      discharge his duties, not in the President's chair, but on horseback, and
      at the head of a party of troops ready to undertake anything. Roused by
      the danger to which both his brother and himself were exposed he delivered
      on horseback the following words, which can never be too often remembered,
      as showing what a man then dared to say, who never was anything except
      from the reflection of his brother's glory:—
    
had sent in soldiers to help his brother; they took him away from the Council, and Bonaparte considered it very important to have the President of an assembly he saw as rebellious with him. Lucien was reinstated in his position; however, he was now expected to perform his duties not in the President's chair but on horseback, leading a group of troops ready to take on anything. Motivated by the danger that both he and his brother faced, he said the following words while on horseback, which are worth remembering, as they show what a man dared to say at that time, who was nothing without his brother's glory:—






   CITIZENS! SOLDIERS!—The President of the Council of the Five
   Hundred declares to you that the majority of that Council is at this
   moment held in terror by a few representatives of the people, who
   are armed with stilettoes, and who surround the tribune, threatening
   their colleagues with death, and maintaining most atrocious
   discussions.

   I declare to you that these brigands, who are doubtless in the pay
   of England, have risen in rebellion against the Council of the
   Ancients, and have dared to talk of outlawing the General, who is
   charged with the execution of its decree, as if the word "outlaw"
   was still to be regarded as the death-warrant of persons most
   beloved by their country.

   I declare to you that these madmen have outlawed themselves by their
   attempts upon the liberty of the Council. In the name of that
   people, which for so many years have been the sport of terrorism,
   I consign to you the charge of rescuing the majority of their
   representatives; so that, delivered from stilettoes by bayonets,
   they may deliberate on the fate of the Republic.

   General, and you, soldiers, and you, citizens, you will not
   acknowledge, as legislators of France, any but those who rally round
   me. As for those who remain in the orangery, let force expel
   them. They are not the representatives of the people, but the
   representatives of the poniard. Let that be their title, and let it
   follow them everywhere; and whenever they dare show themselves to
   the people, let every finger point at them, and every tongue
   designate them by the well-merited title of representatives of the
   poniard!

   Vive la Republique!

   CITIZENS! SOLDIERS!—The President of the Council of the Five Hundred informs you that the majority of that Council is currently in fear because of a few representatives of the people who are armed with daggers and are surrounding the speaker’s platform, threatening their colleagues with death, and engaging in extremely violent discussions.

   I tell you that these criminals, who are surely being paid by England, have rebelled against the Council of the Ancients and have had the audacity to talk about outlawing the General, who is responsible for carrying out its decree, as if the term "outlaw" still meant a death sentence for those most cherished by their country.

   I declare to you that these lunatics have made themselves outlaws by trying to undermine the liberty of the Council. In the name of the people, who for so many years have suffered under terrorism, I entrust you with the duty of saving the majority of their representatives; so that, freed from daggers by bayonets, they can discuss the future of the Republic.

   General, and you, soldiers, and you, citizens, you will only recognize as legislators of France those who stand with me. As for those who remain in the orangery, let force remove them. They are not representatives of the people, but representatives of the dagger. Let that be their label, and let it follow them everywhere; and whenever they dare to show themselves to the people, let every finger point at them, and every voice call them by the well-deserved title of representatives of the dagger!

   Vive la Republique!







      Notwithstanding the cries of "Vive Bonaparte!" which followed this
      harangue, the troops still hesitated. It was evident that they were not
      fully prepared to turn their swords against the national representatives.
      Lucien then drew his sword, exclaiming, "I swear that I will stab my own
      brother to the heart if he ever attempt anything against the liberty of
      Frenchmen." This dramatic action was perfectly successful; hesitation
      vanished; and at a signal given by Bonaparte, Murat, at the head of his
      grenadiers, rushed into the hall, and drove out the representatives.
      Everyone yielded to the reasoning of bayonets, and thus terminated the
      employment of the armed force on that memorable day.
    
Despite the shouts of "Long live Bonaparte!" that followed this speech, the troops still hesitated. It was clear they weren’t completely ready to turn their weapons against the national representatives. Lucien then unsheathed his sword, declaring, "I swear I will stab my own brother to the heart if he ever tries to do anything against the freedom of the French people." This dramatic gesture was entirely effective; their hesitation disappeared. At a signal from Bonaparte, Murat, leading his grenadiers, stormed into the hall and expelled the representatives. Everyone succumbed to the logic of force, and that’s how the use of armed force ended on that historic day.







      At ten o'clock at night the palace of St. Cloud, where so many tumultuous
      scenes had occurred, was perfectly tranquil. All the deputies were still
      there, pacing the hall, the corridors, and the courts. Most of them had an
      air of consternation; others affected to have foreseen the event, and to
      appear satisfied with it; but all wished to return to Paris, which they
      could not do until a new order revoked the order for the removal of the
      Councils to St. Cloud.
    
At ten o'clock at night, the Palace of St. Cloud, which had seen so many chaotic events, was completely calm. All the deputies remained, walking the halls, corridors, and courtyards. Most looked shocked; others pretended they had expected this outcome and seemed okay with it; but everyone wanted to return to Paris, which they couldn’t do until a new order canceled the decision to move the Councils to St. Cloud.







      At eleven o'clock Bonaparte, who had eaten nothing all day, but who was
      almost insensible to physical wants in moments of great agitation, said to
      me, "We must go and write, Bourrienne; I intend this very night to address
      a proclamation to the inhabitants of Paris. To-morrow morning I shall be
      all the conversation of the capital." He then dictated to me the following
      proclamation, which proves, no less than some of his reports from Egypt,
      how much Bonaparte excelled in the art of twisting the truth to own
      advantage:
    
At eleven o'clock, Bonaparte, who hadn’t eaten anything all day but was nearly oblivious to his physical needs in times of intense excitement, said to me, "We need to go write, Bourrienne; I plan to issue a proclamation to the people of Paris tonight. Tomorrow morning, I'll be the talk of the capital." He then dictated to me the following proclamation, which, just like some of his reports from Egypt, shows how much Bonaparte was skilled at bending the truth to serve his own interests:






               TO THE PEOPLE.

                    19th Brumaire, 11 o'clock, p.m.

   Frenchmen!—On my return to France I found division reigning amongst
   all the authorities. They agreed only on this single point, that
   the Constitution was half destroyed, and was unable to protect
   liberty!

   Each party in turn came to me, confided to me their designs,
   imparted their secrets, and requested my support. I refused to be
   the man of a party.

   The Council of the Ancients appealed to me. I answered their
   appeal. A plan of general restoration had been concerted by men
   whom the nation has been accustomed to regard as the defenders of
   liberty, equality, and property. This plan required calm and free
   deliberation, exempt from all influence and all fear. The Ancients,
   therefore, resolved upon the removal of the legislative bodies to
   St. Cloud. They placed at my disposal the force necessary to secure
   their independence. I was bound, in duty to my fellow-citizens, to
   the soldiers perishing in our armies, and to the national glory,
   acquired at the cost of so much blood, to accept the command.

   The Councils assembled at St. Cloud. Republican troops guaranteed
   their safety from without, but assassins created terror within.
   Many members of the Council of the Five Hundred, armed with
   stilettoes and pistols, spread menaces of death around them.

   The plans which ought to have been developed were withheld. The
   majority of the Council was rendered inefficient; the boldest
   orators were disconcerted, and the inutility of submitting any
   salutary proposition was quite evident.

   I proceeded, filled with indignation and grief, to the Council of
   the Ancients. I besought them to carry their noble designs into
   execution. I directed their attention to the evils of the nation,
   which were their motives for conceiving those designs. They
   concurred in giving me new proofs of their uniform goodwill, I
   presented myself before the Council of the Five Hundred, alone,
   unarmed, my head uncovered, just as the Ancients had received and
   applauded me. My object was to restore to the majority the
   expression of its will, and to secure to it its power.

   The stilettoes which had menaced the deputies were instantly raised
   against their deliverer. Twenty assassins rushed upon me and aimed
   at my breast. The grenadiers of the legislative body, whom I had
   left at the door of the hall, ran forward, and placed themselves
   between me and the assassins. One of these brave grenadiers (Thome)
   had his clothes pierced by a stiletto. They bore me off.

     —[Thome merely had a small part of his coat torn by a deputy,
     who took him by the collar. This constituted the whole of the
     attempted assassinations of the 19th Brumaire.—Bourrienne]—

   At the same moment cries of "Outlaw him!" were raised against the
   defender of the law. It was the horrid cry of assassins against the
   power destined to repress them.

   They crowded round the President, uttering threats. With arms in
   their hands they commanded him to declare "the outlawry." I was
   informed of this. I ordered him to be rescued from their fury, and
   six grenadiers of the legislative body brought him out. Immediately
   afterwards some grenadiers of the legislative body charged into the
   hall and cleared it.

   The factions, intimidated, dispersed and fled. The majority, freed
   from their assaults, returned freely and peaceably into the hall;
   listened to the propositions made for the public safety,
   deliberated, and drew up the salutary resolution which will become
   the new and provisional law of the Republic.

   Frenchmen, you doubtless recognise in this conduct the zeal of a
   soldier of liberty, of a citizen devoted to the Republic.
   Conservative, tutelary, and liberal ideas resumed their authority
   upon the dispersion of the factions, who domineered in the Councils,
   and who, in rendering themselves the most odious of men, did not
   cease to be the most contemptible.
                  (Signed) BONAPARTE, General, etc.

               TO THE PEOPLE.

                    19th Brumaire, 11 o'clock, p.m.

   Frenchmen!—Upon my return to France, I found chaos among all the authorities. They only agreed on one thing: that the Constitution was severely weakened and couldn't protect our freedom!

   Each faction approached me, shared their plans, revealed their secrets, and asked for my backing. I refused to be part of any one party.

   The Council of the Ancients reached out to me. I answered their call. A plan for a general restoration had been created by individuals whom the nation viewed as defenders of liberty, equality, and property. This plan required calm and open discussion, free from outside influence and fear. So, the Ancients decided to move the legislative bodies to St. Cloud. They provided the necessary force to ensure their independence. I felt obligated, out of duty to my fellow citizens, to the soldiers fighting for us, and for the national honor we acquired at great cost, to accept the command.

   The Councils gathered at St. Cloud. Republican troops ensured their safety from external threats, but there were assassins creating fear inside. Many members of the Council of the Five Hundred, armed with daggers and pistols, spread death threats around them.

   The discussions that should have taken place were suppressed. The majority of the Council was rendered ineffective; the boldest speakers were thrown off balance, and it was clear that any attempt to propose a constructive idea was futile.

   Filled with anger and sorrow, I went to the Council of the Ancients. I urged them to put their noble plans into action. I pointed out the nation’s troubles that motivated those plans. They agreed to show me more evidence of their steadfast support. I then stood before the Council of the Five Hundred, alone, unarmed, my head bare, just as the Ancients had received and applauded me. My goal was to restore the majority’s voice and empower them.

   The daggers that had threatened the deputies were immediately turned against me, their would-be savior. Twenty assassins charged at me, aiming for my chest. The grenadiers of the legislative body, whom I had stationed at the door, rushed forward and positioned themselves between me and the attackers. One brave grenadier, Thome, was slightly injured by a dagger. They carried me away.

     —[Thome merely had a small part of his coat torn by a deputy,
     who grabbed him by the collar. This was the entirety of the
     attempted assassinations of the 19th Brumaire.—Bourrienne]—

   At that moment, shouts of "Outlaw him!" echoed against the defender of the law. It was the horrific cry of assassins against the power meant to stop them.

   They surrounded the President, making threats. Armed, they demanded he declare "the outlawry." I heard about this and ordered him rescued from their rage; six grenadiers from the legislative body brought him out. Soon after, some of these grenadiers stormed the hall and cleared it out.

   The factions, intimidated, scattered and fled. The majority, freed from their attacks, returned openly and peacefully to the hall; they listened to the proposals for public safety, discussed, and drafted the vital resolution that will become the new provisional law of the Republic.

   Frenchmen, you surely recognize in this action the commitment of a soldier of freedom, a citizen devoted to the Republic. Conservative, protective, and liberal ideas regained their strength after the factions that had dominated the Councils were dispersed, becoming the most hated yet the most contemptible of all.

                  (Signed) BONAPARTE, General, etc.







      The day had been passed in destroying a Government; it was necessary to
      devote the night to framing a new one. Talleyrand, Raederer, and Sieyès
      were at St. Cloud. The Council of the Ancients assembled, and Lucien set
      himself about finding some members of the Five Hundred on whom he could
      reckon. He succeeded in getting together only thirty, who, with their
      President, represented the numerous assembly of which they formed part.
      This ghost of representation was essential, for Bonaparte, notwithstanding
      his violation of all law on the preceding day, wished to make it appear
      that he was acting legally. The Council of the Ancients had, however,
      already decided that a provisional executive commission should be
      appointed, composed of three members, and was about to name the members of
      the commission—a measure which should have originated with the Five
      Hundred—when Lucien came to acquaint Bonaparte that his chamber
      'introuvable' was assembled.
    
The day had been spent taking down a government; it was crucial to spend the night creating a new one. Talleyrand, Raederer, and Sieyès were at St. Cloud. The Council of the Ancients gathered, and Lucien set out to find some members of the Five Hundred whom he could rely on. He managed to gather only thirty, who, along with their President, represented the larger assembly they were part of. This token representation was important because, despite violating all laws the day before, Bonaparte wanted to make it look like he was acting within the law. However, the Council of the Ancients had already decided to establish a provisional executive commission made up of three members and was about to name them—a step that should have started with the Five Hundred—when Lucien arrived to inform Bonaparte that his 'introuvable' chamber was convened.







      This chamber, which called itself the Council of the Five Hundred, though
      that Council was now nothing but a Council of Thirty, hastily passed a
      decree, the first article of which was as follows:
    
This chamber, which referred to itself as the Council of the Five Hundred, even though it was now just a Council of Thirty, quickly passed a decree, the first article of which was as follows:






   The Directory exists no longer; and the individuals hereafter named
   are no longer members of the national representation, on account of
   the excesses and illegal acts which they have constantly committed,
   and more particularly the greatest part of them, in the sitting of
   this morning.

   The Directory is no longer in existence; and the individuals mentioned below are no longer members of the national representation due to the repeated abuses and illegal actions they have consistently engaged in, especially the majority of them, during this morning's session.







      Then follow the names of sixty-one members expelled.
    
Then follow the names of sixty-one members who were expelled.







      By other articles of the same decree the Council instituted a provisional
      commission, similar to that which the Ancients had proposed to appoint,
      resolved that the said commission should consist of three members, who
      should assume the title of Consuls; and nominated as Consuls Sieyès, Roger
      Ducos, and Bonaparte. The other provisions of the nocturnal decree of St.
      Cloud had for their object merely the carrying into effect those already
      described. This nocturnal sitting was very calm, and indeed it would have
      been strange had it been otherwise, for no opposition could be feared from
      the members of the Five Hundred, who were prepared to concur with Lucien.
      All knew beforehand what they would have to do. Everything was concluded
      by three o'clock in the morning; and the palace of St. Cloud, which had
      been so agitated since the previous evening, resumed in the morning its
      wonted stillness, and presented the appearance of a vast solitude.
    
By other articles of the same decree, the Council set up a temporary commission, similar to what the Ancients had suggested, deciding that this commission would have three members, who would take the title of Consuls; and they appointed Sieyès, Roger Ducos, and Bonaparte as Consuls. The other provisions of the late-night decree of St. Cloud were aimed solely at implementing those already discussed. This late-night meeting was quite calm, and it would have been unusual if it weren't, as there was no expected opposition from the members of the Five Hundred, who were ready to support Lucien. Everyone knew in advance what they needed to do. Everything was settled by three o'clock in the morning, and the palace of St. Cloud, which had been so unsettled since the previous evening, returned in the morning to its usual quietness, appearing like a vast solitude.







      All the hurrying about, the brief notes which I had to write to many
      friends, and the conversations in which I was compelled to take part,
      prevented me from dining before one o'clock in the morning. It was not
      till then that Bonaparte, having gone to take the oath as Consul before
      the Five Hundred, afforded me an opportunity of taking some refreshment
      with Admiral Bruix and some other officers.
    
All the rushing around, the quick notes I had to write to several friends, and the conversations I was forced to join in kept me from having dinner until after one o'clock in the morning. It wasn't until then that Bonaparte, having gone to take the oath as Consul before the Five Hundred, gave me a chance to grab a bite with Admiral Bruix and a few other officers.







      At three o'clock in the morning I accompanied Bonaparte, in his carriage
      to Paris. He was extremely fatigued after so many trials and fatigues. A
      new future was opened before him. He was completely absorbed in thought,
      and did not utter a single word during the journey. But when he arrived at
      his house in the Rue de la Victoire, he had no sooner entered his chamber
      and wished good morning to Josephine, who was in bed, and in a state of
      the greatest anxiety on account of his absence, than he said before her,
      "Bourrienne, I said many ridiculous things?"—"Not so very bad,
      General"—"I like better to speak to soldiers than to lawyers. Those
      fellows disconcerted me. I have not been used to public assemblies; but
      that will come in time."
    
At three in the morning, I accompanied Bonaparte in his carriage to Paris. He was extremely worn out after so many trials and efforts. A new future lay ahead of him. He was deep in thought and didn’t say a single word during the ride. But when he arrived at his house on Rue de la Victoire, he had barely entered his room and greeted Josephine, who was in bed and very anxious about his absence, when he said in front of her, "Bourrienne, did I say a lot of ridiculous things?"—"Not too bad, General"—"I prefer talking to soldiers over lawyers. Those guys threw me off. I’m not used to public gatherings, but I’ll get the hang of it."







      We then began, all three, to converse. Madame Bonaparte became calm, and
      Bonaparte resumed his wonted confidence. The events of the day naturally
      formed the subject of our conversation. Josephine, who was much attached
      to the Gohier family, mentioned the name of that Director in a tone of
      kindness. "What would you have, my dear?" said Bonaparte to her. "It is
      not my fault. He is a respectable man, but a simpleton. He does not
      understand me!—I ought, perhaps, to have him transported. He wrote
      against me to the Council of the Ancients; but I have his letter, and they
      know nothing about it. Poor man! he expected me to dinner yesterday. And
      this man thinks himself a statesman!—Speak no more of him."
    
We then started talking, the three of us. Madame Bonaparte calmed down, and Bonaparte regained his usual confidence. The events of the day naturally became the topic of our conversation. Josephine, who was very fond of the Gohier family, mentioned that Director's name with kindness. "What do you want me to do, my dear?" Bonaparte said to her. "It's not my fault. He’s a decent guy, but a bit of a fool. He just doesn't get me!—Maybe I should have him exiled. He wrote against me to the Council of the Ancients; but I have his letter, and they don’t know a thing about it. Poor guy! He was expecting me for dinner yesterday. And this guy thinks he’s a statesman!—Let’s not talk about him anymore."







      During our discourse the name of Bernadotte was also mentioned. "Have you
      seen him, Bourrienne?" said Bonaparte to me.—"No, General"—"Neither
      have I. I have not heard him spoken of. Would you imagine it? I had
      intelligence to-day of many intrigues in which he is concerned. Would you
      believe it? he wished nothing less than to be appointed my colleague in
      authority. He talked of mounting his horse and marching with the troops
      that might be placed under his command. He wished, he said, to maintain
      the Constitution: nay, more; I am assured that he had the audacity to add
      that, if it were necessary to outlaw me, the Government might come to him
      and he would find soldiers capable of carrying the decree into execution."—"All
      this, General, should give you an idea how inflexible his principles are."—"Yes,
      I am well aware of it; there is something in that: he is honest. But for
      his obstinacy, my brothers would have brought him over. They are related
      to him. His wife, who is Joseph's sister-in-law, has ascendency over him.
      As for me, have I not, I ask you, made sufficient advances to him? You
      have witnessed them. Moreau, who has a higher military reputation than he,
      came over to me at once. However, I repent of having cajoled Bernadotte. I
      am thinking of separating him from all his coteries without any one being
      able to find fault with the proceeding. I cannot revenge myself in any
      other manner. Joseph likes him. I should have everybody against me. These
      family considerations are follies! Goodnight, Bourrienne.—By the
      way, we will sleep in the Luxembourg to-morrow."
    
During our conversation, Bernadotte's name came up. "Have you seen him, Bourrienne?" Bonaparte asked me. "No, General," I replied. "I haven't seen him either. I haven't heard anyone talk about him. Can you believe it? I got word today about several intrigues he’s involved in. Would you believe it? He wants nothing less than to be appointed my partner in power. He mentioned getting on his horse and marching with the troops that might be assigned to him. He said he wanted to uphold the Constitution; in fact, I’ve been told that he had the nerve to say that if it were necessary to outlaw me, the Government could come to him and he would find soldiers ready to carry out that decree." "All of this, General, should show you how firm his principles are." "Yes, I know that; there's something to it: he is honest. But if it weren't for his stubbornness, my brothers would have convinced him. They are related to him. His wife, who is Joseph's sister-in-law, has influence over him. As for me, haven’t I already made enough efforts to reach out to him? You’ve seen them. Moreau, who has a better military reputation than he does, came to me right away. Yet, I regret having tried to win over Bernadotte. I'm considering cutting him off from all his circles in a way that no one can criticize me for it. I can't get my revenge in any other way. Joseph likes him. I’d have everyone against me. These family ties are ridiculous! Goodnight, Bourrienne. By the way, we’ll be sleeping at the Luxembourg tomorrow."







      I then left the General, whom, henceforth, I will call the First Consul,
      after having remained with him constantly during nearly twenty-four hours,
      with the exception of the time when he was at the Council of the Five
      Hundred. I retired to my lodging, in the Rue Martel, at five o'clock in
      the morning.
    
I then left the General, whom I will now refer to as the First Consul, after staying with him for almost twenty-four hours, except for the time he was at the Council of the Five Hundred. I went back to my place on Rue Martel at five in the morning.







      It is certain that if Gohier had come to breakfast on the morning of the
      18th Brumaire, according to Madame Bonaparte's invitation, he would have
      been one of the members of the Government. But Gohier acted the part of
      the stern republican. He placed himself, according to the common phrase of
      the time, astride of the Constitution of the year III.; and as his steed
      made a sad stumble, he fell with it.
    
It’s clear that if Gohier had accepted Madame Bonaparte's invitation to breakfast on the morning of the 18th Brumaire, he would have been part of the Government. But Gohier chose to play the role of the strict republican. He positioned himself, as people commonly said back then, on top of the Constitution of the year III.; and when his horse stumbled sadly, he fell along with it.







      It was a singular circumstance which prevented the two Directors Gohier
      and Moulins from defending their beloved Constitution. It was from their
      respect for the Constitution that they allowed it to perish, because they
      would have been obliged to violate the article which did not allow less
      than three Directors to deliberate together. Thus a king of Castile was
      burned to death, because there did not happen to be in his apartment men
      of such rank as etiquette would permit to touch the person of the monarch.
    
It was a unique situation that kept Directors Gohier and Moulins from defending their cherished Constitution. Out of their respect for the Constitution, they let it fall apart because they would have had to break the rule that said at least three Directors had to meet to discuss matters. In the same way, a king of Castile was burned alive because there weren't any men of the appropriate rank in his room to be allowed to touch the king.








 


 




















      CHAPTER XXVI.
    



      1799.
    
1799.


   General approbation of the 18th Brumaire—Distress of the treasury—
   M. Collot's generosity—Bonaparte's ingratitude—Gohier set at
   Liberty—Constitution of the year VIII.—The Senate, Tribunate, and
   Council of State—Notes required on the character of candidates—
   Bonaparte's love of integrity and talent—Influence of habit over
   him—His hatred of the Tribunate—Provisional concessions—The first
   Consular Ministry—Mediocrity of La Place—Proscription lists—
   Cambacérès report—M. Moreau de Worms—Character of Sieyès—
   Bonaparte at the Luxembourg—Distribution of the day and visits—
   Lebrun's opposition—Bonaparte's singing—His boyish tricks—
   Assumption of the titles "Madame" and "Monseigneur"—The men of the
   Revolution and the partisans of the Bourbons—Bonaparte's fears—
   Confidential notes on candidates for office and the assemblies.

   General approval of the 18th Brumaire—Financial distress—M. Collot's generosity—Bonaparte's ingratitude—Gohier released—Constitution of the year VIII.—The Senate, Tribunate, and Council of State—Notes required on candidate qualifications—Bonaparte's appreciation for integrity and talent—The impact of habit on him—His dislike for the Tribunate—Temporary concessions—The first Consular Ministry—La Place's mediocrity—Proscription lists—Cambacérès's report—M. Moreau de Worms—Character of Sieyès—Bonaparte at the Luxembourg—Daily schedule and visits—Lebrun's opposition—Bonaparte's singing—His childish antics—Adoption of the titles "Madame" and "Monseigneur"—The Revolutionaries and supporters of the Bourbons—Bonaparte's fears—Confidential notes on candidates for office and the assemblies.







      It cannot be denied that France hailed, almost with unanimous voice,
      Bonaparte's accession to the Consulship as a blessing of Providence. I do
      not speak now of the ulterior consequences of that event; I speak only of
      the fact itself, and its first results, such as the repeal of the law of
      hostages, and the compulsory loan of a hundred millions. Doubtless the
      legality of the acts of the 18th Brumaire may be disputed; but who will
      venture to say that the immediate result of that day ought not to be
      regarded as a great blessing to France? Whoever denies this can have no
      idea of the wretched state of every branch of the administration at that
      deplorable epoch. A few persons blamed the 18th Brumaire; but no one
      regretted the Directory, with the exception, perhaps, of the five
      Directors themselves. But we will say no more of the Directorial
      Government. What an administration! In what a state were the finances of
      France! Would it be believed? on the second day of the Consulate, when
      Bonaparte wished to send a courier to General Championet,
      commander-in-chief of the army of Italy, the treasury had not 1200 francs
      disposable to give to the courier!
    
It’s undeniable that France almost unanimously welcomed Bonaparte’s rise to the Consulship as a blessing from Providence. I’m not talking about the long-term consequences of that event; I’m just focusing on the fact itself and its initial outcomes, like the repeal of the law of hostages and the mandatory loan of a hundred million. Sure, people can debate the legality of the actions on the 18th Brumaire, but who would dare say that the immediate outcome of that day shouldn’t be seen as a significant blessing for France? Anyone who disagrees must not understand the miserable state of every part of the administration during that unfortunate time. A few people criticized the 18th Brumaire, but no one missed the Directory, except maybe for the five Directors themselves. Enough said about the Directorial Government. What a mess of an administration! Look at France’s finances! Can you believe that on the second day of the Consulate, when Bonaparte wanted to send a courier to General Championet, the commander of the army in Italy, the treasury didn’t have 1200 francs available to give to the courier!







      It may be supposed that in the first moments of a new Government money
      would be wanted. M. Collot, who had served under Bonaparte in Italy, and
      whose conduct and administration deserved nothing but praise, was one of
      the first who came to the Consul's assistance. In this instance M. Collot
      was as zealous as disinterested. He gave the Consul 500,000 francs in
      gold, for which service he was badly rewarded. Bonaparte afterwards
      behaved to M. Collot as though he was anxious to punish him for being
      rich. This sum, which at the time made so fine an appearance in the
      Consular treasury, was not repaid for a long time after, and then without
      interest. This was not, indeed, the only instance in which M. Collot had
      cause to complain of Bonaparte, who was never inclined to acknowledge his
      important services, nor even to render justice to his conduct.
    
It can be assumed that in the early days of a new government, there would be a need for money. M. Collot, who had served under Bonaparte in Italy and deserved nothing but praise for his conduct and management, was one of the first to come to the Consul's aid. In this case, M. Collot was both enthusiastic and selfless. He gave the Consul 500,000 francs in gold, for which he received poor recognition. Bonaparte later treated M. Collot as if he wanted to punish him for being wealthy. This amount, which looked impressive in the Consular treasury at the time, was not repaid for a long while and then without any interest. This was not the only time M. Collot had reason to feel resentful towards Bonaparte, who was never willing to acknowledge his significant contributions, nor to give him proper recognition for his actions.







      On the morning of the 20th Brumaire Bonaparte sent his brother Louis to
      inform the Director Gohier that he was free. This haste in relieving
      Gohier was not without a reason, for Bonaparte was anxious to install
      himself in the Luxembourg, and we went there that same evening.
    
On the morning of the 20th Brumaire, Bonaparte sent his brother Louis to inform Director Gohier that he was free. This quick action to relieve Gohier had a purpose, as Bonaparte was eager to take over the Luxembourg, and we went there that same evening.







      Everything was to be created. Bonaparte had with him almost the whole of
      the army, and on the soldiers he could rely. But the military force was no
      longer sufficient for him. Wishing to possess a great civil power
      established by legal forms, he immediately set about the composition of a
      Senate and Tribunate; a Council of State and a new legislative body, and,
      finally, a new Constitution.
    
Everything was set to be created. Bonaparte had nearly the entire army with him, and he could count on the soldiers. But the military force alone was no longer enough for him. Wanting to have a strong civil authority established through legal means, he quickly began to form a Senate and Tribunate; a Council of State and a new legislative body, and, ultimately, a new Constitution.






 —[The Constitution of the year VIII. was presented on the 18th of
   December 1799 (22d Frimaire, year VIII.), and accepted by the people
   on the 7th of February 1800 (18th Pluviôse, year VIII.). It
   established a Consular Government, composed of Bonaparte, First
   Consul, appointed for ten years; Cambacérès, Second Consul, also for
   ten years; and Lebrun, Third Consul appointed for five years. It
   established a conservative Senate, a legislative body of 800
   members, and a Tribunate composed of 100 members. The establishment
   of the Council of State took place on the 29th of December 1799.
   The installation of the new legislative body and the Tribunate was
   fixed for the 1st of January 1800.—Bourrienne. Lanfrey (tome i.
   p. 329) sees this Constitution foreshadowed in that proposed by
   Napoleon in 1797 for the Cisalpine Republic.]— 
—[The Constitution of Year VIII was presented on December 18, 1799 (22nd Frimaire, Year VIII), and approved by the people on February 7, 1800 (18th Pluviôse, Year VIII). It established a Consular Government, made up of Bonaparte as First Consul, appointed for ten years; Cambacérès as Second Consul, also for ten years; and Lebrun as Third Consul, appointed for five years. It created a conservative Senate, a legislative body with 800 members, and a Tribunate consisting of 100 members. The Council of State was established on December 29, 1799. The new legislative body and the Tribunate were set to be installed on January 1, 1800.—Bourrienne. Lanfrey (volume i, p. 329) sees this Constitution as a precursor to the one proposed by Napoleon in 1797 for the Cisalpine Republic.]—







      As Bonaparte had not time to make himself acquainted with the persons by
      whom he was about to be surrounded, he requested from the most
      distinguished men of the period, well acquainted with France and the
      Revolution, notes respecting the individuals worthy and capable of
      entering the Senate, the Tribunate, and the Council of State. From the
      manner in which all these notes were drawn up it was evident that the
      writers of them studied to make their recommendation correspond with what
      they conceived to be Bonaparte's views, and that they imagined he
      participated in the opinions which were at that time popular. Accordingly
      they stated, as grounds for preferring particular candidates, their
      patriotism, their republicanism, and their having had seats in preceding
      assemblies.
    
Since Bonaparte didn't have time to get to know the people around him, he asked some of the most notable figures of the time, who were familiar with France and the Revolution, to provide notes about individuals who were qualified to join the Senate, the Tribunate, and the Council of State. It was clear from how these notes were written that the authors tried to align their recommendations with what they believed were Bonaparte's views, thinking he shared the popular opinions of the time. As a result, they cited reasons for preferring certain candidates, such as their patriotism, republicanism, and prior experience in earlier assemblies.







      Of all qualities, that which most influenced the choice of the First
      Consul was inflexible integrity; and it is but just to say that in this
      particular he was rarely deceived. He sought earnestly for talent; and
      although he did not like the men of the Revolution, he was convinced that
      he could not do without them. He had conceived an extreme aversion for
      mediocrity, and generally rejected a man of that character when
      recommended to him; but if he had known such a man long, he yielded to the
      influence of habit, dreading nothing so much as change, or, as he was
      accustomed to say himself, new faces.
    
Of all qualities, the one that most influenced the choice of the First Consul was unyielding integrity; and it's only fair to say that in this regard he was rarely misled. He actively sought out talent; and although he didn’t like the men of the Revolution, he believed he couldn't do without them. He had developed a strong dislike for mediocrity and usually turned down anyone of that nature when they were recommended to him; however, if he had known such a person for a while, he would give in to the pull of familiarity, fearing nothing more than change, or, as he often put it, new faces.






 —[Napoleon loved only men with strong passions and great weakness;
   he judged the most opposite qualities in men by these defects
   (Metternich, tome iii. p.589)]— 
 —[Napoleon only loved men with strong passions and significant weaknesses; he evaluated the most contrasting traits in men based on these flaws (Metternich, tome iii. p.589)]—







      Bonaparte then proceeded to organise a complaisant Senate, a mute
      legislative body, and a Tribunate which was to have the semblance of being
      independent, by the aid of some fine speeches and high-sounding phrases.
      He easily appointed the Senators, but it was different with the Tribunate.
      He hesitated long before he fixed upon the candidates for that body, which
      inspired him with an anticipatory fear. However, on arriving at power he
      dared not oppose himself to the exigencies of the moment, and he consented
      for a time to delude the ambitious dupes who kept up a buzz of fine
      sentiments of liberty around him. He saw that circumstances were not yet
      favourable for refusing a share in the Constitution to this third portion
      of power, destined apparently to advocate the interests of the people
      before the legislative body. But in yielding to necessity, the mere idea
      of the Tribunate filled him with the utmost uneasiness; and, in a word,
      Bonaparte could not endure the public discussions on his projects.
    
Bonaparte then set out to organize a compliant Senate, a silent legislative body, and a Tribunate that would appear independent, using some impressive speeches and grand phrases. He easily chose the Senators, but it was a different story with the Tribunate. He took his time deciding on the candidates for that group, which filled him with a sense of anticipatory dread. However, once he came to power, he didn’t dare resist the demands of the moment, and for a time, he went along with the ambitious people around him who buzzed with lofty ideas about liberty. He realized that the circumstances weren’t yet right to deny this third branch of power, which was supposedly meant to represent the people's interests before the legislative body. But even as he gave in to what was necessary, just the thought of the Tribunate made him extremely anxious; in short, Bonaparte couldn’t stand the public debates about his plans.






 —[The Tribunate under this Constitution of the year VIII. was the
   only body allowed to debate in public on proposed laws, the
   legislative body simply hearing in silence the orators sent by the
   Council of State and by the Tribunals to state reasons for or
   against propositions, and then voting in silence. Its orators were
   constantly giving umbrage to Napoleon. It was at first purified,
   early in 1802, by the Senate naming the members to go out in
   rotation then reduced to from 100 to 50 members later in 1802, and
   suppressed in 1807; its disappearance being regarded by Napoleon as
   his last break with the Revolution.]— 
—[Under the Constitution of Year VIII, the Tribunate was the only group allowed to publicly discuss proposed laws, while the legislative body merely listened quietly to the speakers appointed by the Council of State and the Tribunals who presented arguments for or against the proposals, and then voted silently. Its speakers often irritated Napoleon. Initially, in early 1802, the Senate restructured it by appointing members to rotate out, and later that year, the number of members was reduced from 100 to 50, before it was completely dissolved in 1807. Napoleon viewed its elimination as his final separation from the Revolution.]—







      Bonaparte composed the first Consular Ministry as follows: Berthier was
      Minister of War; Gaudin, formerly employed in the administration of the
      Post Office, was appointed Minister of Finance; Cambacérès remained
      Minister of Justice; Forfait was Minister of Marine; La Place of the
      Interior; Fouché of Police; and Reinhard of Foreign Affairs.
    
Bonaparte formed the first Consular Ministry like this: Berthier was the Minister of War; Gaudin, who previously worked in the Post Office administration, was named Minister of Finance; Cambacérès kept his role as Minister of Justice; Forfait was Minister of Navy; La Place took care of the Interior; Fouché managed Police; and Reinhard handled Foreign Affairs.







      Reinhard and La Place were soon replaced, the former by the able M.
      Talleyrand, the latter by Lucien Bonaparte.
    
Reinhard and La Place were soon replaced, the former by the capable M. Talleyrand, the latter by Lucien Bonaparte.






 —[When I quitted the service of the First Consul Talleyrand was
   still at the head of the Foreign Department. I have frequently been
   present at this great statesman's conferences with Napoleon, and I
   can declare that I never saw him flatter his dreams of ambition;
   but, on the contrary, he always endeavoured to make him sensible of
   his true interests.—Bourrienne.]— 
 —[When I left the service of the First Consul, Talleyrand was still leading the Foreign Department. I often attended this great statesman's meetings with Napoleon, and I can say that I never saw him indulge in flattery for his ambitions; instead, he always tried to make him aware of his real interests. —Bourrienne.]—







      It may be said that Lucien merely passed through the Ministry on his way
      to a lucrative embassy in Spain. As to La Place, Bonaparte always
      entertained a high opinion of his talents. His appointment to the Ministry
      of the Interior was a compliment paid to science; but it was not long
      before the First Consul repented of his choice. La Place, so happily
      calculated for science, displayed the most inconceivable mediocrity in
      administration. He was incompetent to the most trifling matters; as if his
      mind, formed to embrace the system of the world, and to interpret the laws
      of Newton and Kepler, could not descend to the level of subjects of
      detail, or apply itself to the duties of the department with which he was
      entrusted for a short, but yet, with regard to him, too long a time.
    
It could be said that Lucien just passed through the Ministry on his way to a well-paying ambassador position in Spain. As for La Place, Bonaparte always had a high regard for his abilities. His appointment to the Ministry of the Interior was a nod to science; however, it wasn't long before the First Consul regretted his decision. La Place, who was highly suited for scientific work, showed an astonishing lack of skill in administration. He was incompetent with even the simplest tasks, as if his mind, capable of grasping the complexities of the universe and interpreting Newton's and Kepler's laws, couldn't handle the more practical details or focus on the responsibilities of the department he was assigned to for a short, yet, considering his abilities, too lengthy period.







      On the 26th Brumaire (17th November 1799) the Consuls issued a decree, in
      which they stated that, conformably with Article III. of the law of the
      19th of the same month, which especially charged them with the
      reestablishment of public tranquillity, they decreed that thirty-eight
      individuals, who were named, should quit the continental territory of the
      Republic, and for that purpose should proceed to Rochefort, to be
      afterwards conducted to, and detained in, the department of French Guiana.
      They likewise decreed that twenty-three other individuals, who were named,
      should proceed to the commune of Rochelle, in the department of the lower
      Charente, in order to be afterwards filed and detained in such part of
      that department as should be pointed out by the Minister of General
      Police. I was fortunate enough to keep my friend M. Moreau de Worms,
      deputy from the Youne, out of the fiat of exiles. This produced a
      mischievous effect. It bore a character of wanton severity quite
      inconsistent with the assurances of mildness and moderation given at St.
      Cloud on the 19th Brumaire. Cambacérès afterwards made a report, in which
      he represented that it was unnecessary for the maintenance of tranquillity
      to subject the proscribed to banishment, considering it sufficient to
      place them under the supervision of the superior police. Upon receiving
      the report the Consuls issued a decree, in which they directed all the
      individuals included in the proscription to retire respectively into the
      different communes which should be fixed upon by the Minister of Justice,
      and to remain there until further orders.
    
On the 26th Brumaire (November 17, 1799), the Consuls issued a decree stating that, according to Article III of the law from the 19th of the same month, which specifically tasked them with restoring public order, they decreed that thirty-eight individuals, whose names were listed, should leave the continental territory of the Republic and go to Rochefort, from where they would be relocated and detained in the department of French Guiana. They also decreed that twenty-three other individuals, whose names were listed, should go to the commune of Rochelle in the lower Charente department, to be later filed and detained in a specific area of that department determined by the Minister of General Police. I was fortunate enough to keep my friend M. Moreau de Worms, a deputy from the Youne, from being included in the group of exiles. This had a harmful effect. It seemed excessively harsh and completely contradicted the assurances of leniency and moderation given at St. Cloud on the 19th Brumaire. Cambacérès later reported that it was unnecessary to banish the proscribed individuals to maintain order, suggesting it was enough to place them under the oversight of the superior police. After receiving this report, the Consuls issued a decree directing all individuals named in the proscription to retreat to the various communes designated by the Minister of Justice and to stay there until further notice.







      At the period of the issuing of these decrees Sieyès was still one of the
      Consuls, conjointly with Bonaparte and Roger Ducos; and although Bonaparte
      had, from the first moment, possessed the whole power of the government, a
      sort of apparent equality was, nevertheless, observed amongst them. It was
      not until the 25th of December that Bonaparte assumed the title of First
      Consul, Cambacérès and Lebrun being then joined in the office with him. He
      had fixed his eyes on them previously to the 18th Brumaire, and he had no
      cause to reproach them with giving him much embarrassment in his rapid
      progress towards the imperial throne.
    
At the time when these decrees were issued, Sieyès was still one of the Consuls, alongside Bonaparte and Roger Ducos. Even though Bonaparte had, from the very beginning, held all the power of the government, there was still a façade of equality among them. It wasn't until December 25th that Bonaparte took on the title of First Consul, with Cambacérès and Lebrun also holding the office with him. He had his sights set on them before the 18th of Brumaire, and he had no reason to blame them for causing him much trouble in his swift rise to the imperial throne.







      I have stated that I was so fortunate as to rescue M. Moreau de Worms from
      the list of proscription. Some days after Sieyès entered Bonaparte's
      cabinet and said to him, "Well, this M. Moreau de Worms, whom M.
      Bourrienne induced you to save from banishment, is acting very finely! I
      told you how it would be! I have received from Sens, his native place, a
      letter which informs me that Moreau is in that town, where he has
      assembled the people in the market-place, and indulged in the most violent
      declamations against the 18th Brumaire,"—"Can you rely upon your
      agent" asked Bonaparte.—"Perfectly. I can answer for the truth of
      his communication." Bonaparte showed me the bulletin of Sieyès' agent, and
      reproached me bitterly. "What would you say, General," I observed, "if I
      should present this same M. Moreau de Worms, who is declaiming at Sens
      against the 18th Brumaire, to you within an hour?"—"I defy you to do
      it."—"I have made myself responsible for him, and I know what I am
      about. He is violent in his politics; but he is a man of honour, incapable
      of failing in his word."—"Well, we shall see. Go and find him." I
      was very sure of doing what I had promised, for within an hour before I
      had seen M. Moreau de Worms. He had been concealed since the 19th
      Brumaire, and had not quitted Paris. Nothing was easier than to find him,
      and in three-quarters of an hour he was at the Luxembourg. I presented him
      to Bonaparte, who conversed with him a long time concerning the 18th
      Brumaire. When M. Moreau departed Bonaparte said to me, "You are right.
      That fool Sieyès is as inventive as a Cassandra. This proves that one
      should not be too ready to believe the reports of the wretches whom we are
      obliged to employ in the police." Afterwards he added, "Bourrienne, Moreau
      is a nice fellow: I am satisfied with him; I will do something for him."
      It was not long before M. Moreau experienced the effect of the Consul's
      good opinion. Some days after, whilst framing the council of prizes, he,
      at my mere suggestion, appointed M. Moreau one of the members, with a
      salary of 10,000 francs. On what extraordinary circumstances the fortunes
      of men frequently depend! As to Sieyès, in the intercourse, not very
      frequent certainly, which I had with him, he appeared to be far beneath
      the reputation which he then enjoyed.'
    
I mentioned that I was lucky enough to save M. Moreau de Worms from being exiled. A few days later, Sieyès joined Bonaparte's cabinet and said to him, "So, this M. Moreau de Worms, whom M. Bourrienne convinced you to save from banishment, is really making waves! I told you it would turn out this way! I got a letter from Sens, his hometown, saying that Moreau is there, where he’s gathered a crowd in the marketplace and is giving some pretty intense speeches against the 18th Brumaire." — "Can you trust your source?" Bonaparte asked. — "Completely. I can vouch for the accuracy of his information." Bonaparte showed me Sieyès' agent's report and scolded me harshly. "What would you say, General," I replied, "if I could bring this same M. Moreau de Worms, who’s railing against the 18th Brumaire in Sens, to you in an hour?" — "I dare you to do it." — "I'm taking responsibility for him, and I know what I'm doing. He's passionate about his politics, but he's a man of honor, incapable of breaking his word." — "Well, we’ll see. Go find him." I was very confident I could keep my promise because just an hour earlier, I had seen M. Moreau de Worms. He had been hiding since the 19th Brumaire and hadn't left Paris. Finding him was easy, and in less than an hour, he was at the Luxembourg. I introduced him to Bonaparte, who talked with him for a long time about the 18th Brumaire. When M. Moreau left, Bonaparte said to me, "You were right. That fool Sieyès is as misleading as a prophet. This shows that we shouldn’t jump to believe the reports from the scoundrels we have to rely on in the police." Then he added, "Bourrienne, Moreau is a decent guy. I’m pleased with him; I’ll do something for him." It wasn’t long before M. Moreau felt the benefits of the Consul’s good opinion. A few days later, while forming the council of awards, he, at my simple suggestion, appointed M. Moreau as a member, with a salary of 10,000 francs. How often the fortunes of people depend on such extraordinary circumstances! As for Sieyès, in the not-so-frequent interactions I had with him, he seemed to be far less impressive than his reputation suggested.






 —[M. de Talleyrand, who is so capable of estimating men, and whose
   admirable sayings well deserve to occupy a place in history, had
   long entertained a similar opinion of Sieyès. One day, when he was
   conversing with the Second Consul concerning Sieyès, Cambacérès said
   to him. "Sieyès, however, is a very profound man."—"Profound?"
   said Talleyrand. "Yes, he is, a cavity, a perfect cavity, as you
   would say."—Bourrienne.]— 
—[M. de Talleyrand, who is great at judging people, and whose insightful remarks truly deserve a spot in history, had long held a similar view of Sieyès. One day, while talking with the Second Consul about Sieyès, Cambacérès said to him, "Sieyès, after all, is a very deep thinker."—"Deep?" Talleyrand replied. "Yes, he is, a void, a complete void, as you might say."—Bourrienne.]—







      He reposed a blind confidence in a multitude of agents, whom he sent into
      all parts of France. When it happened, on other occasions, that I proved
      to him, by evidence as sufficient as that in the case of M. Moreau, the
      falseness of the reports he had received, he replied, with a confidence
      truly ridiculous, "I can rely on my men." Sieyès had written in his
      countenance, "Give me money!" I recollect that I one day alluded to this
      expression in the anxious face of Sieyès to the First Consul. "You are
      right," observed he to me, smiling; "when money is in question, Sieyès is
      quite a matter-of-fact man. He sends his ideology to the right about and
      thus becomes easily manageable. He readily abandons his constitutional
      dreams for a good round sum, and that is very convenient."
    
He had complete trust in a lot of agents that he sent all over France. Whenever I managed to show him, with evidence as strong as in the case of M. Moreau, that the reports he received were false, he would respond with a laughable confidence, "I can trust my guys." Sieyès had a look on his face that said, "Give me money!" I remember mentioning this anxious expression of Sieyès to the First Consul one day. "You’re right," he said to me with a smile; "when money is involved, Sieyès is all business. He pushes his ideology aside and becomes easy to handle. He quickly gives up his constitutional dreams for a good chunk of cash, and that’s very convenient."






 —[Everybody knows, in fact, that Sieyès refused to resign his
   consular dignities unless he received in exchange a beautiful farm
   situated in the park of Versailles, and worth about 15,000 livres a
   year. The good abbé consoled himself for no longer forming a third
   of the republican sovereignty by making himself at home in the
   ancient domain of the kings of France.—Bourrienne.]— 
 —[Everyone knows that Sieyès refused to give up his consular titles unless he was given a beautiful farm in the Versailles park, which was worth about 15,000 livres a year. The good abbot comforted himself for no longer being part of the republican leadership by settling into the old estate of the kings of France.—Bourrienne.]—







      Bonaparte occupied, at the Little Luxembourg, the apartments on the ground
      floor which lie to the right on entering from the Rue de Vaugirard. His
      cabinet was close to a private staircase, which conducted me to the first
      floor, where Josephine dwelt. My apartment was above.
    
Bonaparte stayed in the ground floor rooms on the right as you enter from the Rue de Vaugirard at the Little Luxembourg. His office was near a private staircase that took me up to the first floor, where Josephine lived. My room was above hers.







      After breakfast, which was served at ten o'clock, Bonaparte would converse
      for a few moments with his usual guests, that is to say, his 'aides de
      camp', the persons he invited, and myself, who never left him. He was also
      visited very often by Deferment, Regnault (of the town of St. Jean
      d'Angély), Boulay (de la Meurthe), Monge, and Berber, who were, with his
      brothers, Joseph and Lucien, those whom he most delighted to see; he
      conversed familiarly with them. Cambacérès generally came at mid-day, and
      stayed some time with him, often a whole hour. Lebrun visited but seldom.
      Notwithstanding his elevation, his character remained unaltered; and
      Bonaparte considered him too moderate, because he always opposed his
      ambitious views and his plans to usurp power. When Bonaparte left the
      breakfast-table it was seldom that he did not add, after bidding Josephine
      and her daughter Hortense good-day, "Come, Bourrienne, come, let us to
      work."
    
After breakfast, which was served at ten o'clock, Bonaparte would chat for a few minutes with his usual guests, including his aides-de-camp, the people he invited, and me, since I never left his side. He was also frequently visited by Deferment, Regnault (from the town of St. Jean d'Angély), Boulay (de la Meurthe), Monge, and Berber, who, along with his brothers Joseph and Lucien, were the people he enjoyed seeing the most; he spoke with them casually. Cambacérès usually arrived around noon and would stay for a while, often up to an hour. Lebrun came by infrequently. Despite his rise in status, his character stayed the same; Bonaparte thought he was too moderate because he consistently opposed his ambitious plans to seize power. When Bonaparte got up from the breakfast table, it was rare for him not to add, after saying goodbye to Josephine and her daughter Hortense, "Come, Bourrienne, let’s get to work."







      After the morning audiences I stayed with Bonaparte all the day, either
      reading to him, or writing to his dictation. Three or four times in the
      week he would go to the Council. On his way to the hall of deliberation he
      was obliged to cross the courtyard of the Little Luxembourg and ascend the
      grand staircase. This always vexed him, and the more so as the weather was
      very bad at the time. This annoyance continued until the 25th of December,
      and it was with much satisfaction that he saw himself quit of it. After
      leaving the Council he used to enter his cabinet singing, and God knows
      how wretchedly he sung! He examined whatever work he had ordered to be
      done, signed documents, stretched himself in his arm-chair, and read the
      letters of the preceding day and the publications of the morning. When
      there was no Council he remained in his cabinet, conversed with me, always
      sang, and cut, according to custom, the arm of his chair, giving himself
      sometimes quite the air of a great boy. Then, all at once starting up, he
      would describe a plan for the erection of a monument, or dictate some of
      those extraordinary productions which astonished and dismayed the world.
      He often became again the same man, who, under the walls of St. Jean
      d'Acre, had dreamed of an empire worthy his ambition.
    
After the morning meetings, I spent the whole day with Bonaparte, either reading to him or writing down what he dictated. Three or four times a week, he would go to the Council. On his way to the meeting hall, he had to cross the courtyard of the Little Luxembourg and go up the grand staircase. This always annoyed him, especially since the weather was really bad at the time. This frustration lasted until December 25th, and he was quite pleased to be rid of it. After leaving the Council, he would enter his office singing, and believe me, he sang terribly! He would check whatever work he had requested, sign documents, stretch out in his armchair, and read the letters from the previous day and the morning publications. When there was no Council, he would stay in his office, chat with me, always sing, and as usual, carve into the arm of his chair, sometimes acting like a big kid. Then, suddenly, he would jump up and start sketching out a plan for a monument or dictating some of those remarkable pieces that amazed and shocked the world. He often transformed back into the same man who, beneath the walls of St. Jean d'Acre, had envisioned an empire worthy of his ambitions.







      At five o'clock dinner was served up. When that was over the First Consul
      went upstairs to Josephine's apartments, where he commonly received the
      visits of the Ministers. He was always pleased to see among the number the
      Minister of Foreign Affairs, especially since the portfolio of that
      department had been entrusted to the hands of M. de Talleyrand. At
      midnight, and often sooner, he gave the signal for retiring by saying in a
      hasty manner, "Allons nous coucher."
    
At five o'clock, dinner was served. After that, the First Consul went upstairs to Josephine's rooms, where he usually met with the Ministers. He was always happy to see the Minister of Foreign Affairs, especially since M. de Talleyrand had been given that role. By midnight, and often earlier, he would signal that it was time to go to bed by saying quickly, "Let's go to sleep."







      It was at the Luxembourg, in the salons of which the adorable Josephine so
      well performed the honours, that the word 'Madame' came again into use.
      This first return towards the old French politeness was startling to some
      susceptible Republicans; but things were soon carried farther at the
      Tuileries by the introduction of 'Votre Altesse' on occasions of state
      ceremony, and Monseigneur in the family circle.
    
It was at the Luxembourg, where the charming Josephine graciously hosted, that the term 'Madame' made its comeback. This revival of traditional French politeness shocked some sensitive Republicans; however, things quickly progressed at the Tuileries with the use of 'Your Highness' during state ceremonies and Monseigneur in family gatherings.







      If, on the one hand, Bonaparte did not like the men of the Revolution, on
      the other he dreaded still more the partisans of the Bourbons. On the mere
      mention of the name of those princes he experienced a kind of inward
      alarm; and he often spoke of the necessity of raising a wall of brass
      between France and them. To this feeling, no doubt, must be attributed
      certain nominations, and the spirit of some recommendations contained in
      the notes with which he was supplied on the characters of candidates, and
      which for ready reference were arranged alphabetically. Some of the notes
      just mentioned were in the handwriting of Regnault de St. Jean d'Angély,
      and some in Lucien Bonaparte's.
    
If, on one hand, Bonaparte didn’t trust the men of the Revolution, on the other hand, he feared the supporters of the Bourbons even more. Just hearing the name of those princes made him uneasy, and he often talked about the need to build a strong barrier between France and them. This feeling likely influenced certain appointments and the tone of some recommendations in the notes he received regarding the candidates’ qualities, which were organized alphabetically for quick reference. Some of the notes mentioned were written by Regnault de St. Jean d'Angély, while others were by Lucien Bonaparte.






 —[Among them was the following, under the title of "General
   Observations": "In choosing among the men who were members of the
   Constituent Assembly it is necessary to be on guard against the
   Orleans' party, which is not altogether a chimera, and may one day
   or other prove dangerous.

   "There is no doubt that the partisans of that family are intriguing
   secretly; and among many other proofs of this fact the following is
   a striking one: the journal called the 'Aristargue', which
   undisguisedly supports royalism, is conducted by a man of the name
   of Voidel, one of the hottest patriots of the Revolution. He was
   for several months president of the committee of inquiry which
   caused the Marquis de Favras to be arrested and hanged, and gave so
   much uneasiness to the Court. There was no one in the Constituent
   Assembly more hateful to the Court than Voidel, so much on account
   of his violence as for his connection with the Duke of Orleans,
   whose advocate and counsel he was. When the Duke of Orleans was
   arrested, Voidel, braving the fury of the revolutionary tribunals,
   had the courage to defend him, and placarded all the walls of Paris
   with an apology for the Duke and his two sons. This man, writing
   now in favour of royalism, can have no other object than to advance
   a member of the Orleans family to the throne."—Bourrienne.]— 
—[Among them was the following, under the title of "General Observations": "When selecting from the members of the Constituent Assembly, it’s important to be cautious of the Orleans party, which is not just a fantasy and could potentially become a threat.

"There’s no doubt that supporters of that family are scheming in secret; and among the many pieces of evidence for this, the most notable is the journal called 'Aristargue', which openly backs royalism and is run by a man named Voidel, one of the most passionate patriots of the Revolution. He served as president of the investigative committee that led to the arrest and execution of the Marquis de Favras, much to the Court’s distress. No one was more despised by the Court in the Constituent Assembly than Voidel, due to both his aggression and his connection to the Duke of Orleans, for whom he acted as advocate and advisor. When the Duke of Orleans was arrested, Voidel, daring to face the wrath of the revolutionary courts, had the bravery to defend him and plastered the streets of Paris with a plea for the Duke and his two sons. This man, now writing in favor of royalism, must have no other intention than to elevate a member of the Orleans family to the throne."—Bourrienne.]—







      At the commencement of the First Consul's administration, though he always
      consulted the notes he had collected, he yet received with attention the
      recommendations of persons with whom he was well acquainted; but it was
      not safe for them to recommend a rogue or a fool. The men whom he most
      disliked were those whom he called babblers, who are continually prating
      of everything and on everything. He often said,—"I want more head
      and less tongue." What he thought of the regicides will be seen farther
      on, but at first the more a man had given a gage to the Revolution, the
      more he considered him as offering a guarantee against the return of the
      former order of things. Besides, Bonaparte was not the man to attend to
      any consideration when once his policy was concerned.
    
At the start of the First Consul's administration, even though he always referred to the notes he had gathered, he still paid close attention to the recommendations from people he knew well; however, it wasn't wise for them to suggest someone unreliable or foolish. The individuals he disliked the most were those he called babblers, who constantly talked about everything and anything. He often said, “I want more brains and less talk.” His thoughts on the regicides will be discussed later, but initially, the more a person had committed to the Revolution, the more he viewed them as a guarantee against the return of the old regime. Additionally, Bonaparte was not the type to consider anything once his policy was at stake.







      As I have said a few pages back, on taking the government into his own
      hands Bonaparte knew so little of the Revolution and of the men engaged in
      civil employments that it was indispensably necessary for him to collect
      information from every quarter respecting men and things. But when the
      conflicting passions of the moment became more calm and the spirit of
      party more prudent, and when order had been, by his severe investigations,
      introduced where hitherto unbridled confusion had reigned, he became
      gradually more scrupulous in granting places, whether arising from
      newly-created offices, or from those changes which the different
      departments often experienced. He then said to me, "Bourrienne, I give up
      your department to you. Name whom you please for the appointments; but
      remember you must be responsible to me."
    
As I mentioned a few pages back, when Bonaparte took control of the government, he knew very little about the Revolution and the people involved in civil roles, so it was absolutely necessary for him to gather information from every source about people and situations. But as the intense emotions of the time settled down and party spirit became more reasonable, and as order was established through his thorough investigations where there had previously been chaotic disorder, he became increasingly careful about granting positions, whether due to newly created offices or the frequent changes within different departments. He then said to me, "Bourrienne, I'm passing your department back to you. You can choose whoever you want for the appointments; just remember, you’ll be accountable to me."







      What a list would have been which should contain the names of all the
      prefects, sub-prefects, receivers-general, and other civil officers to
      whom I gave places! I have kept no memoranda of their names; and indeed,
      what advantage would there have been in doing so? It was impossible for me
      to have a personal knowledge of all the fortunate candidates; but I relied
      on recommendations in which I had confidence.
    
What a list it would have been containing the names of all the prefects, sub-prefects, receivers-general, and other civil officers to whom I gave positions! I haven't kept any notes of their names; and really, what would have been the point of that? It was impossible for me to know all the lucky candidates personally, but I trusted the recommendations I received.







      I have little to complain of in those I obliged; though it is true that,
      since my separation from Bonaparte, I have seen many of them take the
      opposite side of the street in which I was walking, and by that delicate
      attention save me the trouble of raising my hat.
    
I have little to complain about regarding those I helped; although it’s true that, since my split from Bonaparte, I’ve noticed many of them cross to the other side of the street when I was walking, and by that subtle gesture, they saved me the trouble of tipping my hat.








 


 




















      CHAPTER XXVII.
    



      1799-1800.
    
1799-1800.


   Difficulties of a new Government—State of Europe—Bonaparte's wish
   for peace—M. de Talleyrand Minister for Foreign Affairs—
   Negotiations with England and Austria—Their failure—Bonaparte's
   views on the East—His sacrifices to policy—General Bonaparte
   denounced to the First Consul—Kléber's letter to the Directory—
   Accounts of the Egyptian expedition published in the Moniteur—
   Proclamation to the army of the East—Favour and disgrace of certain
   individuals accounted for.

   Challenges facing a new government—Current state of Europe—Bonaparte's desire for peace—M. de Talleyrand, Foreign Minister—Negotiations with England and Austria—Their failure—Bonaparte's perspective on the East—His sacrifices for political reasons—General Bonaparte reported to the First Consul—Kléber's letter to the Directory—Reports of the Egyptian expedition published in the Moniteur—Proclamation to the army in the East—The rise and fall of certain individuals explained.







      When a new Government rises on the ruins of one that has been overthrown,
      its best chance of conciliating the favour of the nation, if that nation
      be at war, is to hold out the prospect of peace; for peace is always dear
      to a people. Bonaparte was well aware of this; and if in his heart he
      wished otherwise, he knew how important it was to seem to desire peace.
      Accordingly, immediately after his installation at the Luxembourg he
      notified to all the foreign powers his accession to the Consulate, and,
      for the same purpose, addressed letters to all the diplomatic agents of
      the French Government abroad.
    
When a new government rises from the ruins of one that has been overthrown, its best chance to win the support of the nation, especially if that nation is at war, is to offer the hope of peace; because peace is always valuable to people. Bonaparte understood this well; and even if he secretly wished for something different, he knew how crucial it was to appear to want peace. So, right after he took office at the Luxembourg, he informed all foreign powers of his new role in the Consulate, and for the same reason, he sent letters to all the diplomatic agents of the French Government overseas.







      The day after he got rid of his first two colleagues, Sieyès and Roger
      Ducos, he prepared to open negotiations with the Cabinet of London. At
      that time we were at war with almost the whole of Europe. We had also lost
      Italy. The Emperor of Germany was ruled by his Ministers, who in their
      turn were governed by England. It was no easy matter to manage equally the
      organization of the Consular Government and the no less important affairs
      abroad; and it was very important to the interests of the First Consul to
      intimate to foreign powers, while at the same time he assured himself
      against the return of the Bourbons, that the system which he proposed to
      adopt was a system of order and regeneration, unlike either the demagogic
      violence of the Convention or the imbecile artifice of the Directory. In
      fulfilment of this object Bonaparte directed M. de Talleyrand, the new
      Minister for Foreign Affairs, to make the first friendly overtures to the
      English Cabinet: A correspondence ensued, which was published at the time,
      and which showed at once the conciliatory policy of Bonaparte and the
      arrogant policy of England.
    
The day after he got rid of his first two colleagues, Sieyès and Roger Ducos, he got ready to start talks with the Cabinet of London. At that time, we were at war with nearly all of Europe. We had also lost Italy. The Emperor of Germany was controlled by his ministers, who were, in turn, influenced by England. It was a challenge to balance the organization of the Consular Government with the equally important international issues; and it was crucial for the First Consul to communicate to foreign powers, while also protecting himself against the return of the Bourbons, that the approach he intended to take was one of order and renewal, unlike the demagogic chaos of the Convention or the foolish tricks of the Directory. To achieve this, Bonaparte instructed M. de Talleyrand, the new Minister for Foreign Affairs, to extend the first friendly gestures to the English Cabinet: A correspondence followed, which was published at the time, illustrating both Bonaparte's conciliatory policy and England's arrogant stance.







      The exchange of notes which took place was attended by no immediate
      result. However, the First Consul had partly attained his object: if the
      British Government would not enter into negotiations for peace, there was
      at least reason to presume that subsequent overtures of the Consular
      Government might be listened to. The correspondence had at all events
      afforded Bonaparte the opportunity of declaring his principles, and above
      all, it had enabled him to ascertain that the return of the Bourbons to
      France (mentioned in the official reply of Lord Grenville) would not be a
      sine qua non condition for the restoration of peace between the two
      powers.
    
The exchange of notes that happened didn’t lead to any immediate results. However, the First Consul achieved part of his goal: even if the British Government wasn’t willing to negotiate for peace, there was at least hope that future proposals from the Consular Government might be considered. The correspondence gave Bonaparte the chance to express his principles, and most importantly, it let him find out that the return of the Bourbons to France (as mentioned in Lord Grenville's official reply) wouldn’t be a mandatory condition for restoring peace between the two nations.







      Since M. de Talleyrand had been Minister for Foreign Affairs the business
      of that department had proceeded with great activity. It was an important
      advantage to Bonaparte to find a nobleman of the old regime among the
      republicans. The choice of M. de Talleyrand was in some sort an act of
      courtesy to the foreign Courts. It was a delicate attention to the
      diplomacy of Europe to introduce to its members, for the purpose of
      treating with them, a man whose rank was at least equal to their own, and
      who was universally distinguished for a polished elegance of manner
      combined with solid good qualities and real talents.
    
Since M. de Talleyrand became the Minister for Foreign Affairs, that department has been running very efficiently. It was a significant advantage for Bonaparte to have a nobleman from the old regime among the republicans. Choosing M. de Talleyrand was, in a way, a gesture of goodwill towards the foreign Courts. It was a thoughtful move in European diplomacy to present to its members, for the purpose of negotiations, a person whose rank was at least equal to theirs, and who was known for both refined elegance and genuine skills and talents.







      It was not only with England that Bonaparte and his Minister endeavoured
      to open negotiations; the Consular Cabinet also offered peace to the House
      of Austria; but not at the same time. The object of this offer was to sow
      discord between the two powers. Speaking to me one day of his earnest wish
      to obtain peace Bonaparte said, "You see, Bourrienne, I have two great
      enemies to cope with. I will conclude peace with the one I find most easy
      to deal with. That will enable me immediately to assail the other. I
      frankly confess that I should like best to be at peace with England.
      Nothing would then be more easy than to crush Austria. She has no money
      except what she gets through England."
    
It wasn’t just England that Bonaparte and his Minister tried to negotiate with; the Consular Cabinet also offered peace to Austria, but not at the same time. The goal of this offer was to create tension between the two countries. One day, when talking to me about his strong desire for peace, Bonaparte said, "You see, Bourrienne, I have two major enemies to deal with. I will make peace with the one I find easier to handle. That will allow me to immediately attack the other. I’ll be honest; I’d prefer to be at peace with England. Nothing would make it easier to defeat Austria afterward. She has no money except what she gets from England."







      For a long time all negotiations proved abortive. None of the European
      powers would acknowledge the new Government, of which Bonaparte was the
      head; and the battle of Marengo was required before the peace of Amiens
      could be obtained.
    
For a long time, all negotiations were unsuccessful. None of the European powers would recognize the new government led by Bonaparte, and the battle of Marengo was necessary before the peace of Amiens could be achieved.







      Though the affairs of the new Government afforded abundant occupation to
      Bonaparte, he yet found leisure to direct attention to the East—to
      that land of despotism whence, judging from his subsequent conduct, it
      might be presumed he derived his first principles of government. On
      becoming the head of the State he wished to turn Egypt, which he had
      conquered as a general, to the advantage of his policy as Consul. If
      Bonaparte triumphed over a feeling of dislike in consigning the command of
      the army to Kléber, it was because he knew Kléber to be more capable than
      any other of executing the plans he had formed; and Bonaparte was not the
      man to sacrifice the interests of policy to personal resentment. It is
      certainly true that he then put into practice that charming phrase of
      Molière's—"I pardon you, but you shall pay me for this!"
    
Even though the new government kept Bonaparte busy, he still found time to focus on the East—the land of dictatorship from which, based on his later actions, he likely drew his early ideas about governance. Upon becoming the head of state, he aimed to leverage Egypt, which he had conquered as a general, to further his agenda as Consul. If Bonaparte managed to overcome his dislike and gave the army command to Kléber, it was because he recognized that Kléber was the most capable of executing his plans. Bonaparte wasn’t the type to put personal feelings above political interests. It’s certainly true that he lived by that memorable saying of Molière's—"I forgive you, but you will pay for this!"







      With respect to all whom he had left in Egypt Bonaparte stood in a very
      singular situation. On becoming Chief of the Government he was not only
      the depositary of all communications made to the Directory; but letters
      sent to one address were delivered to another, and the First Consul
      received the complaints made against the General who had so abruptly
      quitted Egypt. In almost all the letters that were delivered to us he was
      the object of serious accusation. According to some he had not avowed his
      departure until the very day of his embarkation; and he had deceived
      everybody by means of false and dissembling proclamations. Others
      canvassed his conduct while in Egypt: the army which had triumphed under
      his command he had abandoned when reduced to two-thirds of its original
      force and a prey to all the horrors of sickness and want. It must be
      confessed that these complaints and accusations were but too well founded,
      and one can never cease wondering at the chain of fortunate circumstances
      which so rapidly raised Bonaparte to the Consular seat. In the natural
      order of things, and in fulfilment of the design which he himself had
      formed, he should have disembarked at Toulon, where the quarantine laws
      would no doubt have been observed; instead of which, the fear of the
      English and the uncertainty of the pilots caused him to go to Fréjus,
      where the quarantine laws were violated by the very persons most
      interested in respecting them. Let us suppose that Bonaparte had been
      forced to perform quarantine at Toulon. What would have ensued? The
      charges against him would have fallen into the hands of the Directory, and
      he would probably have been suspended, and put upon his trial.
    
With regard to everyone he left behind in Egypt, Bonaparte was in a very unique situation. When he became the head of the Government, he not only had access to all communications sent to the Directory but also received letters meant for one address that would get delivered to another. As a result, the First Consul learned about complaints against the General who had abruptly left Egypt. Most of the letters we received contained serious accusations against him. Some claimed he didn’t reveal his departure until the very day he left; others said he misled everyone with false and deceptive proclamations. Others criticized his actions while in Egypt: the army that had triumphed under his command was abandoned when it was reduced to two-thirds of its original size and suffering from illness and starvation. It must be acknowledged that these complaints and accusations were quite justified, and one can't help but wonder about the lucky circumstances that so quickly brought Bonaparte to the Consular position. Under normal circumstances, and according to his own plan, he should have landed at Toulon, where quarantine laws would have certainly been enforced; instead, the fear of the English and uncertainty with the pilots led him to Fréjus, where even those most concerned with following the quarantine laws violated them. Let’s assume Bonaparte had been forced to quarantine at Toulon. What would have happened? The accusations against him would have gone to the Directory, and he likely would have faced suspension and trial.







      Among the letters which fell into Bonaparte's hands, by reason of the
      abrupt change of government, was an official despatch (of the 4th
      Vendemiaire, year VIII.) from General Kléber at Cairo to the Executive
      Directory, in which that general spoke in very stringent terms of the
      sudden departure of Bonaparte and of the state in which the army in Egypt
      had been left. General Kléber further accused him of having evaded, by his
      flight, the difficulties which he thus transferred to his successor's
      shoulders, and also of leaving the army "without a sou in the chest," with
      pay in arrear, and very little supply of munitions or clothing.
    
Among the letters that reached Bonaparte due to the sudden change in government was an official dispatch (dated 4th Vendemiaire, year VIII) from General Kléber in Cairo to the Executive Directory. In this message, General Kléber criticized Bonaparte harshly for his abrupt departure and for the condition in which he left the army in Egypt. He further accused Bonaparte of avoiding the challenges he created, which he then passed on to his successor, and of leaving the army "without a sou in the chest," with unpaid wages and very few supplies of munitions or clothing.







      The other letters from Egypt were not less accusatory than Kléber's; and
      it cannot be doubted that charges of so precise a nature, brought by the
      general who had now become commander-in-chief against his predecessor,
      would have had great weight, especially backed as they were by similar
      complaints from other quarters. A trial would have been inevitable; and
      then, no 18th Brumaire, no Consulate, no Empire, no conquest of Europe—but
      also, it may be added, no St. Helena. None of these events would have
      ensued had not the English squadron, when it appeared off Corsica, obliged
      the Muiron to scud about at hazard, and to touch at the first land she
      could reach.
    
The other letters from Egypt were just as accusatory as Kléber's, and there’s no doubt that the specific charges made by the general, who had now become the commander-in-chief against his predecessor, would have carried significant weight, especially since they were supported by similar complaints from other sources. A trial would have been unavoidable; and then, no 18th Brumaire, no Consulate, no Empire, no conquest of Europe—but it should also be noted, no St. Helena either. None of these events would have happened if the English squadron, when it showed up off Corsica, hadn’t forced the Muiron to drift around aimlessly and land wherever she could find.







      The Egyptian expedition filled too important a place in the life of
      Bonaparte for him to neglect frequently reviving in the public mind the
      recollection of his conquests in the East. It was not to be forgotten that
      the head of the Republic was the first of her generals. While Moreau
      received the command of the armies of the Rhine, while Massena, as a
      reward for the victory of Zurich, was made Commander-in-Chief in Italy,
      and while Brune was at the head of the army of Batavia, Bonaparte, whose
      soul was in the camps, consoled himself for his temporary inactivity by a
      retrospective glance on his past triumphs. He was unwilling that Fame
      should for a moment cease to blazon his name. Accordingly, as soon as he
      was established at the head of the Government, he caused accounts of his
      Egyptian expedition to be from time to time published in the Moniteur. He
      frequently expressed his satisfaction that the accusatory correspondence,
      and, above all, Kléber's letter, had fallen into his own hands. Such was
      Bonaparte's perfect self-command that immediately after perusing that
      letter he dictated to me the following proclamation, addressed to the army
      of the East:
    
The Egyptian campaign was too significant in Bonaparte's life for him to not keep reminding the public of his victories in the East. It couldn’t be forgotten that the leader of the Republic was the top general. While Moreau took charge of the armies on the Rhine, Massena was named Commander-in-Chief in Italy as a reward for his victory at Zurich, and Brune led the army in Batavia, Bonaparte, whose heart was in the fields, comforted himself for his temporary inactivity by reflecting on his past successes. He didn’t want Fame to ever stop promoting his name. So, once he was in charge of the government, he had updates about his Egyptian expedition published regularly in the Moniteur. He often expressed his satisfaction that the accusatory letters, especially Kléber's letter, had come into his possession. Bonaparte had such incredible self-control that right after reading that letter, he dictated the following proclamation to me, which was addressed to the army in the East:






   SOLDIERS!—The Consuls of the French Republic frequently direct
   their attention to the army of the East.

   France acknowledges all the influence of your conquests on the
   restoration of her trade and the civilisation of the world.

   The eyes of all Europe are upon you, and in thought I am often with
   you.

   In whatever situation the chances of war may place you, prove
   yourselves still the soldiers of Rivoli and Aboukir—you will be
   invincible.

   Place in Kléber the boundless confidence which you reposed in me.
   He deserves it.

   Soldiers, think of the day when you will return victorious to the
   sacred territory of France. That will be a glorious day for the
   whole nation.

SOLDIERS!—The Consuls of the French Republic often focus on the army in the East.

France recognizes the impact of your victories on restoring her trade and advancing civilization.

All of Europe is watching you, and I often think of you.

No matter what challenges war brings, continue to be the soldiers of Rivoli and Aboukir—you will be unbeatable.

Put the same unwavering trust in Kléber that you had in me. He deserves it.

Soldiers, remember the day you'll return victorious to the sacred land of France. That will be a glorious day for the entire nation.







      Nothing can more forcibly show the character of Bonaparte than the above
      allusion to Kléber, after he had seen the way in which Kléber spoke of him
      to the Directory. Could it ever have been imagined that the correspondence
      of the army, to whom he addressed this proclamation, teemed with
      accusations against him? Though the majority of these accusations were
      strictly just, yet it is but fair to state that the letters from Egypt
      contained some calumnies. In answer to the well-founded portion of the
      charges Bonaparte said little; but he seemed to feel deeply the falsehoods
      that were stated against him, one of which was, that he had carried away
      millions from Egypt. I cannot conceive what could have given rise to this
      false and impudent assertion. So far from having touched the army chest,
      Bonaparte had not even received all his own pay. Before he constituted
      himself the Government the Government was his debtor.
    
Nothing can illustrate Bonaparte’s character more clearly than the mention of Kléber, especially after seeing how Kléber talked about him to the Directory. Could anyone have imagined that the correspondence from the army, to whom he directed this proclamation, was filled with accusations against him? Although most of these accusations were completely valid, it’s fair to mention that the letters from Egypt included some slander. In response to the legitimate part of the charges, Bonaparte said little; however, he seemed to be deeply affected by the falsehoods directed at him, one of which claimed he had taken millions from Egypt. I can’t understand what could have led to this false and outrageous claim. Instead of having taken money from the army’s funds, Bonaparte hadn’t even received all of his own salary. Before he established himself as the Government, the Government owed him money.







      Though he knew well all that was to be expected from the Egyptian
      expedition, yet those who lauded that affair were regarded with a
      favourable eye by Bonaparte. The correspondence which had fallen into his
      hands was to him of the highest importance in enabling him to ascertain
      the opinions which particular individuals entertained of him.
    
Though he was fully aware of what to expect from the Egyptian expedition, those who praised it were viewed positively by Bonaparte. The correspondence that had come into his possession was extremely important for him to understand the opinions that certain individuals had about him.







      It was the source of favours and disgraces which those who were not in the
      secret could not account for. It serves to explain why many men of
      mediocrity were elevated to the highest dignities and honours, while other
      men of real merit fell into disgrace or were utterly neglected.
    
It was the source of favors and setbacks that those who weren’t in the know couldn’t understand. It explains why many average men were promoted to the highest ranks and honors, while others, who truly deserved recognition, were stripped of their status or completely overlooked.








 


 




















      CHAPTER XXVIII.
    



      1800.
    
1800.


   Great and common men—Portrait of Bonaparte—The varied expression
   of his countenance—His convulsive shrug—Presentiment of his
   corpulency—Partiality for bathing—His temperance—His alleged
   capability of dispensing with sleep—Good and bad news—Shaving, and
   reading the journals—Morning business—Breakfast—Coffee and snuff
   —Bonaparte's idea of his own situation—His ill opinion of mankind
   —His dislike of a 'tête-à-tête'—His hatred of the Revolutionists
   —Ladies in white—Anecdotes—Bonaparte's tokens of kindness, and
   his droll compliments—His fits of ill humour—Sound of bells—
   Gardens of Malmaison—His opinion of medicine—His memory—
   His poetic insensibility—His want of gallantry—Cards and
   conversation—The dress-coat and black cravat—Bonaparte's payments
   —His religious ideas—His obstinacy.

   Great and ordinary people—Portrait of Bonaparte—The range of expressions on his face—His sudden shoulder shrug—Hints of his future weight—His love for baths—His moderation—His rumored ability to go without sleep—Good and bad news—Shaving and reading the news—Morning tasks—Breakfast—Coffee and tobacco—Bonaparte's view of his situation—His poor opinion of humanity—His dislike for one-on-one conversations—His disdain for the Revolutionists—Ladies in white—Anecdotes—Bonaparte's gestures of kindness and his funny compliments—His moods—The sound of bells—Gardens of Malmaison—His thoughts on medicine—His memory—His poetic indifference—His lack of gallantry—Cards and talk—The dress coat and black tie—Bonaparte's expenses—His religious beliefs—His stubbornness.







      In perusing the history of the distinguished characters of past ages, how
      often do we regret that the historian should have portrayed the hero
      rather than the man! We wish to know even the most trivial habits of those
      whom great talents and vast reputation have elevated above their
      fellow-creatures. Is this the effect of mere curiosity, or rather is it
      not an involuntary feeling of vanity which prompts us to console ourselves
      for the superiority of great men by reflecting on their faults, their
      weaknesses, their absurdities; in short, all the points of resemblance
      between them and common men? For the satisfaction of those who are curious
      in details of this sort, I will here endeavour to paint Bonaparte, as I
      saw him, in person and in mind, to describe what were his tastes and
      habits, and even his whims and caprices.
    
As we look through the history of notable figures from the past, how often do we wish the historian focused more on the individual rather than just the hero! We want to know even the smallest quirks of those whose remarkable talents and widespread fame set them apart from everyone else. Is this just simple curiosity, or is it more an instinctual need for vanity that drives us to comfort ourselves regarding the greatness of these individuals by considering their flaws, their vulnerabilities, their oddities; in short, all the ways they are similar to everyday people? To satisfy those who are interested in such details, I will here attempt to portray Bonaparte, as I observed him, both in his personality and thoughts, to describe his preferences, habits, and even his eccentricities and whims.







      Bonaparte was now in the prime of life, and about thirty. The person of
      Bonaparte has served as a model for the most skilful painters and
      sculptors; many able French artists have successfully delineated his
      features, and yet it may be said that no perfectly faithful portrait of
      him exists. His finely-shaped head, his superb forehead, his pale
      countenance, and his usual meditative look, have been transferred to the
      canvas; but the versatility of his expression was beyond the reach of
      imitation. All the various workings of his mind were instantaneously
      depicted in his countenance; and his glance changed from mild to severe,
      and from angry to good-humoured, almost with the rapidity of lightning. It
      may truly be said that he had a particular look for every thought that
      arose in his mind.
    
Bonaparte was now in the prime of his life, around thirty. His appearance has inspired some of the most skilled painters and sculptors; many talented French artists have successfully captured his features, yet it can be said that no perfectly accurate portrait of him exists. His well-defined head, impressive forehead, pale complexion, and typical thoughtful expression have been portrayed on canvas, but the variety of his expressions was beyond the ability of anyone to replicate. The different emotions he felt were instantly reflected in his face; his gaze shifted from gentle to stern, and from angry to cheerful, almost like lightning. It can truly be said that he had a specific look for every thought that crossed his mind.







      Bonaparte had beautiful hands, and he was very proud of them; while
      conversing he would often look at them with an air of self-complacency. He
      also fancied he had fine teeth, but his pretension to that advantage was
      not so well founded as his vanity on the score of his hands.
    
Bonaparte had beautiful hands, and he was very proud of them; while talking, he would often glance at them with a sense of satisfaction. He also believed he had nice teeth, but his claim to that benefit wasn't as justified as his pride in his hands.







      When walking, either alone or in company with any one, in his apartments
      or in his gardens, he had the habit of stooping a little, and crossing his
      hands behind his back. He frequently gave an involuntary shrug of his
      right shoulder, which was accompanied by a movement of his mouth from left
      to right. This habit was always most remarkable when his mind was absorbed
      in the consideration of any profound subject. It was often while walking
      that he dictated to me his most important notes. He could endure great
      fatigue, not only on horseback but on foot; he would sometimes walk for
      five or six hours in succession without being aware of it.
    
When he walked, whether by himself or with someone else, in his rooms or in his gardens, he had a habit of slightly stooping and crossing his hands behind his back. He often gave an involuntary shrug of his right shoulder, which was accompanied by a movement of his mouth from left to right. This habit was particularly noticeable when he was deeply focused on a complex topic. It was often during walks that he dictated his most important notes to me. He could handle a lot of fatigue, both on horseback and on foot; he would sometimes walk for five or six hours in a row without even realizing it.







      When walking with any person whom he treated with familiarity he would
      link his arm into that of his companion, and lean on it.
    
When walking with anyone he was close to, he would hook his arm through theirs and lean on it.







      He used often to say to me, "You see, Bourrienne, how temperate, and how
      thin I am; but, in spite of that, I cannot help thinking that at forty I
      shall become a great eater, and get very fat. I foresee that my
      constitution will undergo a change. I take a great deal of exercise; but
      yet I feel assured that my presentiment will be fulfilled." This idea gave
      him great uneasiness, and as I observed nothing which seemed to warrant
      his apprehensions, I omitted no opportunity of assuring him that they were
      groundless. But he would not listen to me, and all the time I was about
      him, he was haunted by this presentiment, which, in the end, was but too
      well verified.
    
He often used to say to me, "You see, Bourrienne, how moderate and thin I am; but still, I can't shake the feeling that by the time I'm forty, I'll turn into a big eater and gain a lot of weight. I have a strong sense that my body will change. I exercise a lot, but I still believe my feeling will come true." This thought made him very anxious, and since I didn't notice anything that supported his worries, I took every chance to reassure him that they were unfounded. But he wouldn't listen to me, and all the time I was around him, he was troubled by this feeling, which eventually turned out to be true.







      His partiality for the bath he mistook for a necessity. He would usually
      remain in the bath two hours, during which time I used to read to him
      extracts from the journals and pamphlets of the day, for he was anxious to
      hear and know all that was going on. While in the bath he was continually
      turning on the warm water to raise the temperature, so that I was
      sometimes enveloped in such a dense vapour that I could not see to read,
      and was obliged to open the door.
    
His fondness for the bath he confused with a necessity. He would typically stay in the bath for two hours, during which I would read him articles from the day's newspapers and pamphlets, since he was eager to hear and know everything that was happening. While in the bath, he constantly turned on the warm water to raise the temperature, so that I was sometimes surrounded by such thick steam that I couldn't see to read, and had to open the door.







      Bonaparte was exceedingly temperate, and averse to all excess. He knew the
      absurd stories that were circulated about him, and he was sometimes vexed
      at them. It has been repeated, over and over again, that he was subject to
      attacks of epilepsy; but during the eleven years that I was almost
      constantly with him I never observed any symptom which in the least degree
      denoted that malady. His health was good and his constitution sound. If
      his enemies, by way of reproach, have attributed to him a serious
      periodical disease, his flatterers, probably under the idea that sleep is
      incompatible with greatness, have evinced an equal disregard of truth in
      speaking of his night-watching. Bonaparte made others watch, but he
      himself slept, and slept well. His orders were that I should call him
      every morning at seven. I was therefore the first to enter his chamber;
      but very frequently when I awoke him he would turn himself, and say, "Ah,
      Bourrienne! let me lie a little longer." When there was no very pressing
      business I did not disturb him again till eight o'clock. He in general
      slept seven hours out of the twenty-four, besides taking a short nap in
      the afternoon.
    
Bonaparte was very temperate and averse to any kind of excess. He was aware of the ridiculous rumors circulating about him, and it occasionally annoyed him. It has been repeatedly claimed that he suffered from epilepsy, but during the eleven years I spent almost constantly with him, I never saw any signs of that illness. His health was good, and his constitution was strong. While his enemies have accused him of having a serious recurring illness, his admirers, probably thinking that sleep is incompatible with greatness, have shown equal disregard for the truth regarding how little he actually slept. Bonaparte made others stay awake, but he himself slept, and he slept well. His instructions were for me to wake him every morning at seven. So, I was always the first one to enter his room; however, very often when I woke him, he would turn over and say, "Ah, Bourrienne! Let me lie a little longer." When there was no urgent business, I didn’t disturb him again until eight o'clock. Generally, he slept about seven hours out of the twenty-four, in addition to taking a short nap in the afternoon.







      Among the private instructions which Bonaparte gave me, one was very
      curious. "During the night," said he, "enter my chamber as seldom as
      possible. Do not awake me when you have any good news to communicate: with
      that there is no hurry. But when you bring bad news, rouse me instantly;
      for then there is not a moment to be lost."
    
Among the private instructions Bonaparte gave me, one was quite interesting. "During the night," he said, "try to enter my room as little as possible. Don’t wake me up for good news; there's no rush for that. But if you have bad news, wake me up right away; there’s no time to waste then."







      This was a wise regulation, and Bonaparte found his advantage in it.
    
This was a smart regulation, and Bonaparte took advantage of it.







      As soon as he rose his 'valet de chambre' shaved him and dressed his hair.
      While he was being shaved I read to him the newspapers, beginning always
      with the 'Moniteur.' He paid little attention to any but the German and
      English papers. "Pass over all that," he would say, while I was perusing
      the French papers; "I know it already. They say only what they think will
      please me." I was often surprised that his valet did not cut him while I
      was reading; for whenever he heard anything interesting he turned quickly
      round towards me.
    
As soon as he got up, his valet shaved him and styled his hair. While he was being shaved, I read the newspapers to him, always starting with the 'Moniteur.' He paid little attention to anything except the German and English papers. "Skip that," he would say while I was reading the French papers; "I already know it. They only say what they think will please me." I was often surprised that his valet didn’t cut him while I was reading because whenever he heard something interesting, he would quickly turn to look at me.







      When Bonaparte had finished his toilet, which he did with great attention,
      for he was scrupulously neat in his person, we went down to his cabinet.
      There he signed the orders on important petitions which had been analysed
      by me on the preceding evening. On reception and parade days he was
      particularly exact in signing these orders, because I used to remind him
      that he would be likely to see most of the petitioners, and that they
      would ask him for answers. To spare him this annoyance I used often to
      acquaint them beforehand of what had been granted or refused, and what had
      been the decision of the First Consul. He next perused the letters which I
      had opened and laid on his table, ranging them according to their
      importance. He directed me to answer them in his name; he occasionally
      wrote the answers himself, but not often.
    
When Bonaparte finished getting ready, which he did with great care because he was very particular about his appearance, we went down to his office. There, he signed the orders on important petitions that I had reviewed the night before. On reception and parade days, he was especially diligent about signing these orders because I would remind him that he would likely meet many of the petitioners who would ask him for updates. To spare him this hassle, I often informed them in advance about what had been approved or denied, and what the First Consul's decision was. He then read the letters I had opened and laid out on his desk, sorting them by their importance. He instructed me to respond to them in his name; he would sometimes write the responses himself, but that was rare.







      At ten o'clock the 'maître d'hôtel' entered, and announced breakfast,
      saying, "The General is served." We went to breakfast, and the repast was
      exceedingly simple. He ate almost every morning some chicken, dressed with
      oil and onions. This dish was then, I believe, called 'poulet à la
      Provençale'; but our restaurateurs have since conferred upon it the more
      ambitious name of 'poulet à la Marengo.'
    
At ten o'clock, the head waiter came in and announced breakfast, saying, "The General is served." We went to breakfast, and the meal was very simple. He usually had some chicken dressed with oil and onions. Back then, I think it was called 'poulet à la Provençale,' but our restaurant owners have since given it the more fancy name 'poulet à la Marengo.'







      Bonaparte drank little wine, always either claret or Burgundy, and the
      latter by preference. After breakfast, as well as after dinner, he took a
      cup of strong coffee.
    
Bonaparte drank little wine, always either claret or Burgundy, and preferred the latter. After breakfast, as well as after dinner, he had a cup of strong coffee.






 —[M. Brillat de Savarin, whose memory is dear to all gourmands, had
   established, as a gastronomic principle, that "he who does not take
   coffee after each meal is assuredly not a man of taste."—
   Bourrienne.]— 
 —[M. Brillat de Savarin, who is fondly remembered by all food lovers, established a cooking principle that "anyone who doesn't have coffee after every meal clearly lacks taste."— Bourrienne.]—







      I never saw him take any between his meals, and I cannot imagine what
      could have given rise to the assertion of his being particularly fond of
      coffee. When he worked late at night he never ordered coffee, but
      chocolate, of which he made me take a cup with him. But this only happened
      when our business was prolonged till two or three in the morning.
    
I never saw him have any snacks between meals, and I can't imagine what made people say that he really liked coffee. When he worked late at night, he never ordered coffee; instead, he always got chocolate and insisted that I have a cup with him. But this only happened when our work stretched into the early hours of the morning, around two or three.







      All that has been said about Bonaparte's immoderate use of snuff has no
      more foundation in truth than his pretended partiality for coffee. It is
      true that at an early period of his life he began to take snuff, but it
      was very sparingly, and always out of a box; and if he bore any
      resemblance to Frederick the Great, it was not by filling his
      waistcoat-pockets with snuff, for I must again observe he carried his
      notions of personal neatness to a fastidious degree.
    
All the talk about Bonaparte's excessive use of snuff is no more true than his supposed preference for coffee. It's true that early in his life he started using snuff, but he did so very sparingly and always from a box. If he resembled Frederick the Great at all, it wasn’t by stuffing his waistcoat pockets with snuff, because I must again point out that he took his personal grooming to an extreme level.







      Bonaparte had two ruling passions, glory and war. He was never more gay
      than in the camp, and never more morose than in the inactivity of peace.
      Plans for the construction of public monuments also pleased his
      imagination, and filled up the void caused by the want of active
      occupation. He was aware that monuments form part of the history of
      nations, of whose civilisation they bear evidence for ages after those who
      created them have disappeared from the earth, and that they likewise often
      bear false-witness to remote posterity of the reality of merely fabulous
      conquests. Bonaparte was, however, mistaken as to the mode of
      accomplishing the object he had in view. His ciphers, his trophies, and
      subsequently his eagles, splendidly adorned the monuments of his reign.
      But why did he wish to stamp false initials on things with which neither
      he nor his reign had any connection; as, for example the old Louvre? Did
      he imagine that the letter, "N" which everywhere obtruded itself on the
      eye, had in it a charm to controvert the records of history, or alter the
      course of time?
    
Bonaparte had two main passions: glory and war. He was never happier than when in camp and never more gloomy than in the stillness of peace. He also enjoyed dreaming up plans for public monuments, which filled the emptiness created by a lack of active engagement. He understood that monuments are part of a nation’s history, serving as evidence of its civilization long after those who built them are gone, and that they often misleadingly represent the truth of legendary conquests to future generations. However, Bonaparte was mistaken about how to achieve his goals. His initials, trophies, and later his eagles, decorated the monuments of his reign. But why did he feel the need to impose false initials on things that had no real connection to him or his time, like the old Louvre? Did he think that the letter "N," which popped up everywhere, had the power to reshape historical records or change the course of time?






 —[When Louis XVIII. returned to the Tuileries in 1814 he found that
   Bonaparte had been an excellent tenant, and that he had left
   everything in very good condition.]— 
 —[When Louis XVIII returned to the Tuileries in 1814, he discovered that Bonaparte had been a great tenant and had left everything in really good shape.]—







      Be this as it may, Bonaparte well knew that the fine arts entail lasting
      glory on great actions, and consecrate the memory of princes who protect
      and encourage them. He oftener than once said to me, "A great reputation
      is a great noise; the more there is made, the farther off it is heard.
      Laws, institutions, monuments, nations, all fall; but the noise continues
      and resounds in after ages." This was one of his favourite ideas. "My
      power," he would say at other times, "depends on my glory, and my glory on
      my victories. My power would fall were I not to support it by new glory
      and new victories. Conquest has made me what I am, and conquest alone can
      maintain me." This was then, and probably always continued to be, his
      predominant idea, and that which prompted him continually to scatter the
      seeds of war through Europe. He thought that if he remained stationary he
      would fall, and he was tormented with the desire of continually advancing.
      Not to do something great and decided was, in his opinion, to do nothing.
      "A newly-born Government," said he to me, "must dazzle and astonish. When
      it ceases to do that it falls." It was vain to look for rest from a man
      who was restlessness itself.
    
Be that as it may, Bonaparte knew well that the arts bring lasting glory to great deeds and honor the memory of rulers who support and promote them. He often told me, "A great reputation is like a loud noise; the more noise it makes, the farther it travels. Laws, institutions, monuments, and nations all come to an end, but the noise continues and echoes through the ages." This was one of his favorite ideas. "My power," he would say at other times, "depends on my glory, and my glory on my victories. My power would crumble if I didn't back it up with new glory and new victories. Conquest is what made me who I am, and only conquest can keep me in power." This was then, and probably always remained, his main belief, which constantly drove him to spread the seeds of war across Europe. He thought that if he stood still, he would fall, and he was tormented by the urge to keep moving forward. For him, not doing something significant and decisive was the same as doing nothing. "A newly formed government," he said to me, "must dazzle and amaze. When it stops doing that, it will collapse." It was pointless to expect rest from a man who embodied restlessness itself.







      His sentiments towards France now differed widely from what I had known
      them to be in his youth. He long indignantly cherished the recollection of
      the conquest of Corsica, which he was once content to regard as his
      country. But that recollection was effaced, and it might be said that he
      now ardently loved France. His imagination was fired by the very thought
      of seeing her great, happy, and powerful, and, as the first nation in the
      world, dictating laws to the rest. He fancied his name inseparably
      connected with France, and resounding in the ears of posterity. In all his
      actions he lost sight of the present moment, and thought only of futurity;
      so, in all places where he led the way to glory, the opinion of France was
      ever present in his thoughts. As Alexander at Arbela pleased himself less
      in having conquered Darius than in having gained the suffrage of the
      Athenians, so Bonaparte at Marengo was haunted by the idea of what would
      be said in France. Before he fought a battle Bonaparte thought little
      about what he should do in case of success, but a great deal about what he
      should do in case of a reverse of fortune. I mention this as a fact of
      which I have often been a witness, and leave to his brothers in arms to
      decide whether his calculations were always correct. He had it in his
      power to do much, for he risked everything and spared nothing. His
      inordinate ambition goaded him on to the attainment of power; and power
      when possessed served only to augment his ambition. Bonaparte was
      thoroughly convinced of the truth that trifles often decide the greatest
      events; therefore he watched rather than provoked opportunity, and when
      the right moment approached, he suddenly took advantage of it. It is
      curious that, amidst all the anxieties of war and government, the fear of
      the Bourbons incessantly pursued him, and the Faubourg St. Germain was to
      him always a threatening phantom.
    
His feelings about France were now completely different from what I had known them to be in his youth. He had long held onto the memory of the conquest of Corsica, which he once happily thought of as his homeland. But that memory was now erased, and it could be said that he now genuinely loved France. The very thought of seeing her great, happy, and powerful, dictating laws as the leading nation in the world, fired his imagination. He envisioned his name forever linked with France, echoing in the ears of future generations. In all his actions, he lost sight of the present, thinking only of the future; thus, in all the places he led to glory, France's opinion was always at the forefront of his mind. Just as Alexander at Arbela took more pleasure in winning the support of the Athenians than in defeating Darius, Bonaparte at Marengo was preoccupied with how France would perceive his actions. Before entering a battle, Bonaparte rarely considered what he would do if successful, but he spent a lot of time thinking about what he would do if things went wrong. I mention this as something I have often witnessed and leave it to his fellow soldiers to decide whether his calculations were always right. He had the ability to achieve much, as he risked everything and held nothing back. His overwhelming ambition pushed him toward gaining power, and once he had it, it only served to heighten his ambition. Bonaparte was fully aware that small things often determine the outcome of major events; therefore, he preferred to watch for opportunities rather than provoke them, and when the right moment came, he seized it quickly. It's interesting that, despite all the pressures of war and governance, the fear of the Bourbons constantly haunted him, and the Faubourg St. Germain was always a looming threat in his mind.







      He did not esteem mankind, whom, indeed, he despised more and more in
      proportion as he became acquainted with them. In him this unfavourable
      opinion of human nature was justified by many glaring examples of
      baseness, and he used frequently to repeat, "There are two levers for
      moving men,—interest and fear." What respect, indeed, could
      Bonaparte entertain for the applicants to the treasury of the opera? Into
      this treasury the gaming-houses paid a considerable sum, part of which
      went to cover the expenses of that magnificent theatre. The rest was
      distributed in secret gratuities, which were paid on orders signed by
      Duroc. Individuals of very different characters were often seen catching
      the little door in the Rue Rameau. The lady who was for a while the
      favourite of the General-in-Chief in Egypt, and whose husband was
      maliciously sent back by the English, was a frequent visitor to the
      treasury. On an occasion would be seen assembled there a distinguished
      scholar and an actor, a celebrated orator and a musician; on another, the
      treasurer would have payments to make to a priest, a courtesan, and a
      cardinal.
    
He didn't have a good opinion of mankind, and in fact, he despised them even more as he got to know them better. His negative views on human nature were supported by many obvious examples of deception, and he often said, "There are two ways to move people—interest and fear." What respect could Bonaparte possibly have for those who approached the opera’s treasury? The gaming houses contributed a significant amount of money, part of which went to cover the expenses of that extravagant theater. The rest was given out as secret payments, which were approved by Duroc. People of very different backgrounds were often seen slipping through the little door on Rue Rameau. The woman who was once the favorite of the General-in-Chief in Egypt and whose husband was spitefully sent back by the English was a regular visitor to the treasury. One time, a distinguished scholar and an actor, a well-known orator, and a musician could be seen gathered there; another time, the treasurer would be making payments to a priest, a courtesan, and a cardinal.







      One of Bonaparte's greatest misfortunes was, that he neither believed in
      friendship not felt the necessity of loving. How often have I heard him
      say, "Friendship is but a name; I love nobody. I do not even love my
      brothers. Perhaps Joseph, a little, from habit and because he is my elder;
      and Duroc, I love him too. But why? Because his character pleases me. He
      is stern and resolute; and I really believe the fellow never shed a tear.
      For my part, I know very well that I have no true friends. As long as I
      continue what I am, I may have as many pretended friends as I please.
      Leave sensibility to women; it is their business. But men should be firm
      in heart and in purpose, or they should have nothing to do with war or
      government."
    
One of Bonaparte's biggest downfalls was that he didn’t believe in friendship or see the need to love. How many times have I heard him say, "Friendship is just a word; I don’t love anyone. I don’t even love my brothers. Maybe a little bit for Joseph, just out of habit and because he’s older; and I do love Duroc. But why? Because I like his character. He’s tough and determined; I honestly think the guy has never cried. As for me, I know I don’t have any true friends. As long as I stay the way I am, I can have as many fake friends as I want. Let sensitivity be for women; that’s their thing. Men should be strong in heart and purpose, or they should stay away from war and government."







      In his social relations Bonaparte's temper was bad; but his fits of
      ill-humour passed away like a cloud, and spent themselves in words. His
      violent language and bitter imprecations were frequently premeditated.
      When he was going to reprimand any one he liked to have a witness present.
      He would then say the harshest things, and level blows against which few
      could bear up. But he never gave way to those violent ebullitions of rage
      until he acquired undoubted proofs of the misconduct of those against whom
      they were directed. In scenes of this sort I have frequently observed that
      the presence of a third person seemed to give him confidence.
      Consequently, in a 'tête-à-tête' interview, any one who knew his
      character, and who could maintain sufficient coolness and firmness, was
      sure to get the better of him. He told his friends at St. Helena that he
      admitted a third person on such occasions only that the blow might resound
      the farther. That was not his real motive, or the better way would have
      been to perform the scene in public. He had other reasons. I observed that
      he did not like a 'tête-à-tête'; and when he expected any one, he would
      say to me beforehand, "Bourrienne, you may remain;" and when any one was
      announced whom he did not expect, as a minister or a general, if I rose to
      retire he would say in a half-whisper, "Stay where you are." Certainly
      this was not done with the design of getting what he said reported abroad;
      for it belonged neither to my character nor my duty to gossip about what I
      had heard. Besides, it may be presumed, that the few who were admitted as
      witnesses to the conferences of Napoleon were aware of the consequences
      attending indiscreet disclosures under a Government which was made
      acquainted with all that was said and done.
    
In his social interactions, Bonaparte had a bad temper; however, his outbursts faded quickly, like a passing storm, and were often just verbal. His harsh words and bitter curses were often pre-planned. When he needed to scold someone, he preferred to have a witness present. He would then say the most severe things and deliver verbal blows that few could withstand. But he never unleashed those intense fits of anger until he had clear evidence of the misbehavior of those he was addressing. In such situations, I often noticed that having a third person there seemed to boost his confidence. Thus, in a one-on-one conversation, anyone who understood his character and could stay calm and collected would likely come out on top. He told his friends at St. Helena that he included a third person on those occasions just so the impact would be greater. That wasn't his true reason; if it were, it would have been more effective to hold the confrontation in public. He had other motives. I noticed that he didn't like one-on-one conversations; when he was expecting someone, he would say to me ahead of time, "Bourrienne, you can stay." But if someone unexpected, like a minister or a general, was announced and I started to leave, he would quietly say, "Stay where you are." This wasn’t done to ensure that what he said would be spread around; it wasn't in my nature or my job to share what I had heard. Also, it can be assumed that the few people allowed to witness Napoleon's conversations were aware of the potential consequences of careless disclosures within a government that kept tabs on everything said and done.







      Bonaparte entertained a profound dislike of the sanguinary men of the
      Revolution, and especially of the regicides. He felt, as a painful burden,
      the obligation of dissembling towards them. He spoke to me in terms of
      horror of those whole he called the assassins of Louis XVI, and he was
      annoyed at the necessity of employing them and treating them with apparent
      respect. How many times has he not said to Cambacérès, pinching him by the
      ear, to soften, by that habitual familiarity, the bitterness of the
      remark, "My dear fellow, your case is clear; if ever the Bourbons come
      back you will be hanged!" A forced smile would then relax the livid
      countenance of Cambacérès, and was usually the only reply of the Second
      Consul, who, however, on one occasion said in my hearing, "Come, come,
      have done with this joking."
    
Bonaparte had a deep dislike for the bloody figures of the Revolution, especially the regicides. He felt a heavy obligation to hide his true feelings towards them. He spoke to me with horror about those he referred to as the assassins of Louis XVI, and he was frustrated by the need to work with them and treat them with false respect. How many times did he not say to Cambacérès, pinching him by the ear to soften the harshness of his words, "My dear fellow, your situation is clear; if the Bourbons ever come back, you’ll be hanged!" A forced smile would briefly ease Cambacérès's pale face, and that was usually the only response from the Second Consul, who, however, once remarked in my presence, "Come on, stop this joking."







      One thing which gave Bonaparte great pleasure when in the country was to
      see a tall, slender woman, dressed in white, walking beneath an alley of
      shaded trees. He detested coloured dresses, and especially dark ones. To
      fat women he had an invincible antipathy, and he could not endure the
      sight of a pregnant woman; it therefore rarely happened that a female in
      that situation was invited to his parties. He possessed every requisite
      for being what is called in society an agreeable man, except the will to
      be so. His manner was imposing rather than pleasing, and those who did not
      know him well experienced in his presence an involuntary feeling of awe.
      In the drawing-room, where Josephine did the honours with so much grace
      and affability, all was gaiety and ease, and no one felt the presence of a
      superior; but on Bonaparte's entrance all was changed, and every eye was
      directed towards him, to read his humour in his countenance, whether he
      intended to be silent or talkative, dull or cheerful.
    
One thing that brought Bonaparte great joy while in the countryside was seeing a tall, slender woman in white walking under a canopy of shaded trees. He disliked colorful dresses, especially dark ones. He had a strong aversion to overweight women and could not tolerate the sight of a pregnant woman; as a result, it was rare for a woman in that condition to be invited to his gatherings. He had all the qualities that make someone socially charming, except the desire to be one. His demeanor was more imposing than pleasing, and people who didn’t know him well often felt a sense of awe in his presence. In the drawing room, where Josephine hosted with such grace and warmth, there was laughter and relaxation, and no one felt the weight of superiority; but when Bonaparte entered, everything changed, and every gaze turned towards him to gauge his mood, whether he planned to be silent or conversational, serious or lighthearted.







      He often talked a great deal, and sometimes a little too much; but no one
      could tell a story in a more agreeable and interesting way. His
      conversation rarely turned on gay or humorous subjects, and never on
      trivial matters. He was so fond of argument that in the warmth of
      discussion it was easy to draw from him secrets which he was most anxious
      to conceal. Sometimes, in a small circle, he would amuse himself by
      relating stories of presentiments and apparitions. For this he always
      chose the twilight of evening, and he would prepare his hearers for what
      was coming by some solemn remark. On one occasion of this kind he said, in
      a very grave tone of voice, "When death strikes a person whom we love, and
      who is distant from us, a foreboding almost always denotes the event, and
      the dying person appears to us at the moment of his dissolution." He then
      immediately related the following anecdote: "A gentleman of the Court of
      Louis XIV. was in the gallery of Versailles at the time that the King was
      reading to his courtiers the bulletin of the battle of Friedlingen gained
      by Villars. Suddenly the gentleman saw, at the farther end of the gallery,
      the ghost of his son, who served under Villars. He exclaimed, 'My son is
      no more!' and next moment the King named him among the dead."
    
He often talked a lot, and sometimes a bit too much; but no one could tell a story in a more enjoyable and engaging way. His conversation rarely focused on light or funny topics, and never on trivial matters. He loved a good debate, and in the heat of discussion, it was easy to get him to reveal secrets he was desperate to keep hidden. Sometimes, in a small group, he would entertain himself by sharing stories about premonitions and ghosts. He always chose the twilight of the evening for this, preparing his audience with some serious remark. On one such occasion, he said in a very serious tone, "When someone we love and who is far from us dies, we usually have a premonition of the event, and the dying person seems to appear to us at the moment of their death." He then immediately shared this story: "A gentleman from the Court of Louis XIV was in the gallery of Versailles while the King was reading to his courtiers the report of the battle of Friedlingen, which Villars won. Suddenly, the gentleman saw, at the far end of the gallery, the ghost of his son, who was serving under Villars. He shouted, 'My son is gone!' and the next moment, the King named him among the dead."







      When travelling Bonaparte was particularly talkative. In the warmth of his
      conversation, which was always characterised by original and interesting
      ideas, he sometimes dropped hints of his future views, or, at least, he
      said things which were calculated to disclose what he wished to conceal. I
      took the liberty of mentioning to him this indiscretion, and far from
      being offended, he acknowledged his mistake, adding that he was not aware
      he had gone so far. He frankly avowed this want of caution when at St.
      Helena.
    
When he was traveling, Bonaparte was especially chatty. In the warmth of his conversation, which always featured original and engaging ideas, he sometimes hinted at his future plans or, at least, said things that revealed what he wanted to keep hidden. I took the chance to bring up this slip-up with him, and instead of being upset, he admitted his mistake, saying he hadn’t realized he had gone that far. He openly acknowledged this lack of caution while at St. Helena.







      When in good humour his usual tokens of kindness consisted in a little rap
      on the head or a slight pinch of the ear. In his most friendly
      conversations with those whom he admitted into his intimacy he would say,
      "You are a fool"—"a simpleton"—"a ninny"—"a blockhead."
      These, and a few other words of like import, enabled him to vary his
      catalogue of compliments; but he never employed them angrily, and the tone
      in which they were uttered sufficiently indicated that they were meant in
      kindness.
    
When he was in a good mood, his usual gestures of kindness were a light tap on the head or a gentle pinch of the ear. During his most friendly chats with those he let into his close circle, he'd say things like, "You're such a fool," "a simpleton," "a ninny," or "a blockhead." These and a few other similar remarks allowed him to mix up his compliments; however, he never used them in anger, and the tone in which he said them clearly showed that they were meant affectionately.







      Bonaparte had many singular habits and tastes. Whenever he experienced any
      vexation, or when any unpleasant thought occupied his mind, he would hum
      something which was far from resembling a tune, for his voice was very
      unmusical. He would, at the same time, seat himself before the
      writing-table, and swing back in his chair so far that I have often been
      fearful of his falling.
    
Bonaparte had many unique habits and preferences. Whenever he felt upset or had an unpleasant thought on his mind, he would hum something that didn't resemble a melody at all, as his voice was quite unmusical. At the same time, he would sit down at the writing table and lean back in his chair so far that I often worried he might fall.







      He would then vent his ill-humour on the right arm of his chair,
      mutilating it with his penknife, which he seemed to keep for no other
      purpose. I always took care to keep good pens ready for him; for, as it
      was my business to decipher his writing, I had a strong interest in doing
      what I could to make it legible.
    
He would then take out his frustration on the right arm of his chair, 
      damaging it with his penknife, which he seemed to have for no other 
      reason. I always made sure to have good pens ready for him; since it 
      was my job to make sense of his writing, I had a strong incentive to do 
      what I could to make it readable.







      The sound of bells always produced in Bonaparte pleasurable sensations,
      which I could never account for. When we were at Malmaison, and walking in
      the alley leading to the plain of Ruel, how many times has the bell of the
      village church interrupted our most serious conversations!
    
The sound of bells always gave Bonaparte a joyful feeling that I could never explain. When we were at Malmaison, walking down the path to the plain of Ruel, how many times did the village church bell interrupt our most serious talks!







      He would stop, lest the noise of our footsteps should drown any portion of
      the delightful sound. He was almost angry with me because I did not
      experience the impressions he did. So powerful was the effect produced
      upon him by the sound of these bells that his voice would falter as he
      said, "Ah! that reminds me of the first years I spent at Brienne! I was
      then happy!" When the bells ceased he would resume the course of his
      speculations, carry himself into futurity, place a crown on his head, and
      dethrone kings.
    
He would stop, afraid that our footsteps would drown out any part of the beautiful sound. He was almost annoyed with me because I didn’t feel the same way he did. The sound of those bells affected him so deeply that his voice would shake as he said, "Ah! that reminds me of the first years I spent at Brienne! I was happy then!" When the bells stopped, he would continue his thoughts, imagining the future, placing a crown on his head, and toppling kings.







      Nowhere, except on the field of battle, did I ever see Bonaparte more
      happy than in the gardens of Malmaison. At the commencement of the
      Consulate we used to go there every Saturday evening, and stay the whole
      of Sunday, and sometimes Monday. Bonaparte used to spend a considerable
      part of his time in walking and superintending the improvements which he
      had ordered. At first he used to make excursions about the neighbourhood,
      but the reports of the police disturbed his natural confidence, and gave
      him reason to fear the attempts of concealed royalist partisans.
    
Nowhere, except on the battlefield, did I ever see Bonaparte happier than in the gardens of Malmaison. At the beginning of the Consulate, we would go there every Saturday evening and stay all day Sunday, sometimes even Monday. Bonaparte would spend a lot of his time walking around and overseeing the improvements he had ordered. At first, he would take trips around the area, but the police reports shook his natural confidence and made him worried about the plans of hidden royalist supporters.







      During the first four or five days that Bonaparte spent at Malmaison he
      amused himself after breakfast with calculating the revenue of that
      domain. According to his estimates it amounted to 8000 francs. "That is
      not bad!" said he; "but to live here would require an income of 30,000
      livres!" I could not help smiling to see him seriously engaged in such a
      calculation.
    
During the first four or five days Bonaparte spent at Malmaison, he entertained himself after breakfast by calculating the revenue of the estate. According to his estimates, it was about 8,000 francs. "That's not bad!" he said, "but to live here would need an income of 30,000 livres!" I couldn't help but smile as I watched him focused on such a calculation.







      Bonaparte had no faith in medicine. He spoke of it as an art entirely
      conjectural, and his opinion on this subject was fired and
      incontrovertible. His vigorous mind rejected all but demonstrative proofs.
    
Bonaparte didn’t trust medicine. He considered it an entirely speculative art, and his views on the matter were passionate and unshakeable. His sharp intellect dismissed everything except for concrete evidence.







      He had little memory for proper names, words, or dates, but he had a
      wonderful recollection of facts and places. I recollect that, on going
      from Paris to Toulon, he pointed out to me ten places calculated for great
      battles, and he never forgot them. They were memoranda of his first
      youthful journeys.
    
He wasn't great with names, words, or dates, but he had an incredible memory for facts and locations. I remember that when we traveled from Paris to Toulon, he pointed out ten sites perfect for major battles, and he always remembered them. They were notes from his early travels.







      Bonaparte was insensible to the charms of poetic harmony. He had not even
      sufficient ear to feel the rhythm of poetry, and he never could recite a
      verse without violating the metre; yet the grand ideas of poetry charmed
      him. He absolutely worshipped Corneille; and, one day, after having
      witnessed a performance of 'Cinna', he said to me, "If a man like
      Corneille were living in my time I would make him my Prime Minister. It is
      not his poetry that I most admire; it is his powerful understanding, his
      vast knowledge of the human heart, and his profound policy!" At St. Helena
      he said that he would have made Corneille a prince; but at the time he
      spoke to me of Corneille he had no thought of making either princes or
      kings.
    
Bonaparte was indifferent to the allure of poetic rhythm. He didn’t even have a good enough ear to catch the flow of poetry, and he could never recite a line without messing up the meter; yet he was captivated by the grand themes of poetry. He completely admired Corneille; one day, after seeing a performance of 'Cinna', he told me, "If someone like Corneille were alive in my time, I would make him my Prime Minister. It's not his poetry I admire the most; it's his sharp intellect, his deep understanding of human nature, and his insightful political strategy!" At St. Helena, he mentioned that he would have made Corneille a prince; however, when he talked to me about Corneille, he had no plans for making anyone into princes or kings.







      Gallantry to women was by no means a trait in Bonaparte's character. He
      seldom said anything agreeable to females, and he frequently addressed to
      them the rudest and most extraordinary remarks. To one he would say,
      "Heavens, how red your elbows are!" To another, "What an ugly headdress
      you have got!" At another time he would say, "Your dress is none of the
      cleanest..... Do you ever change your gown? I have seen you in that twenty
      times!" He showed no mercy to any who displeased him on these points. He
      often gave Josephine directions about her toilet, and the exquisite taste
      for which she was distinguished might have helped to make him fastidious
      about the costume of other ladies. At first he looked to elegance above
      all things: at a later period he admired luxury and splendour, but he
      always required modesty. He frequently expressed his disapproval of the
      low-necked dresses which were so much in fashion at the beginning of the
      Consulate.
    
Gallantry towards women wasn’t really a part of Bonaparte's character. He rarely said anything nice to women and often made the rudest and most unusual comments to them. To one, he might say, "Wow, your elbows are so red!" To another, "What a horrible headdress you have!" At another moment, he would remark, "Your dress isn’t exactly clean... Do you ever change your gown? I've seen you in that twenty times!" He showed no mercy to anyone who upset him about these things. He often gave Josephine tips about her appearance, and her renowned taste might have made him particular about the outfits of other women. Initially, he focused on elegance above all else; later on, he appreciated luxury and splendor, but he always insisted on modesty. He frequently voiced his disapproval of the low-cut dresses that were so popular at the beginning of the Consulate.







      Bonaparte did not love cards, and this was very fortunate for those who
      were invited to his parties; for when he was seated at a card-table, as he
      sometimes thought himself obliged to be, nothing could exceed the dulness
      of the drawing-room either at the Luxembourg or the Tuileries. When, on
      the contrary, he walked about among the company, all were pleased, for he
      usually spoke to everybody, though he preferred the conversation of men of
      science, especially those who had been with him in in Egypt; as for
      example, Monge and Berthollet. He also liked to talk with Chaptal and
      Lacépède, and with Lemercier, the author of 'Agamemnon'.
    
Bonaparte wasn't a fan of card games, which was lucky for those invited to his parties. When he had to sit at a card table, the atmosphere in the drawing room, whether at the Luxembourg or the Tuileries, was incredibly dull. On the other hand, when he mingled with the guests, everyone enjoyed themselves since he usually talked to everyone, although he particularly favored conversations with men of science, especially those who had shared experiences with him in Egypt, like Monge and Berthollet. He also enjoyed chatting with Chaptal, Lacépède, and Lemercier, the writer of 'Agamemnon.'







      Bonaparte was seen to less advantage in a drawing-room than at the head of
      his troops. His military uniform became him much better than the
      handsomest dress of any other kind. His first trials of dress-coats were
      unfortunate. I have been informed that the first time he wore one he kept
      on his black cravat. This incongruity was remarked to him, and he replied,
      "So much the better; it leaves me something of a military air, and there
      is no harm in that." For my own part, I neither saw the black cravat nor
      heard this reply.
    
Bonaparte looked less impressive in a drawing room than when he was leading his troops. His military uniform suited him much better than any fancy outfit. His first attempts at wearing dress coats didn't go well. I've heard that the first time he wore one, he kept his black cravat on. Someone pointed out the mismatch to him, and he replied, "So much the better; it gives me a bit of a military vibe, and that's not a bad thing." Personally, I didn't see the black cravat nor hear this response.







      The First Consul paid his own private bills very punctually; but he was
      always tardy in settling the accounts of the contractors who bargained
      with Ministers for supplies for the public service. He put off these
      payments by all sorts of excuses and shufflings. Hence arose immense
      arrears in the expenditure, and the necessity of appointing a committee of
      liquidation. In his opinion the terms contractor and rogue were
      synonymous. All that he avoided paying them he regarded as a just
      restitution to himself; and all the sums which were struck off from their
      accounts he regarded as so much deducted from a theft. The less a Minister
      paid out of his budget the more Bonaparte was pleased with him; and this
      ruinous system of economy can alone explain the credit which Decrès so
      long enjoyed at the expense of the French navy.
    
The First Consul paid his private bills promptly, but he was always slow to settle the accounts of contractors who negotiated with Ministers for supplies for the public service. He postponed these payments with all sorts of excuses and delays. This led to huge backlogs in spending and the need to create a liquidation committee. In his view, the terms contractor and rogue were interchangeable. He saw everything he avoided paying them as a rightful compensation for himself; and every amount that was written off from their accounts, he viewed as money taken back from a theft. The less a Minister spent from his budget, the more Bonaparte appreciated him; and this damaging system of cost-cutting can explain the long-lasting favor that Decrès received at the expense of the French navy.







      On the subject of religion Bonaparte's ideas were very vague. "My reason,"
      said he, "makes me incredulous respecting many things; but the impressions
      of my childhood and early youth throw me into uncertainty." He was very
      fond of talking of religion. In Italy, in Egypt, and on board the 'Orient'
      and the 'Muiron', I have known him to take part in very animated
      conversations on this subject.
    
On the topic of religion, Bonaparte's thoughts were quite unclear. "My reason," he said, "makes me skeptical about many things, but the beliefs of my childhood and early youth leave me feeling unsure." He enjoyed discussing religion a lot. In Italy, in Egypt, and on the ships 'Orient' and 'Muiron', I saw him engaged in lively conversations about this topic.







      He readily yielded up all that was proved against religion as the work of
      men and time: but he would not hear of materialism. I recollect that one
      fine night, when he was on deck with some persons who were arguing in
      favour of materialism, Bonaparte raised his hand to heaven and, pointing
      to the stars, said, "You may talk as long as you please, gentlemen, but
      who made all that?" The perpetuity of a name in the memory of man was to
      him the immortality of the soul. He was perfectly tolerant towards every
      variety of religious faith.
    
He easily accepted everything that was shown to be against religion as just the result of people and time, but he wouldn’t entertain the idea of materialism. I remember one beautiful night when he was on deck with some people who were arguing in favor of materialism. Bonaparte raised his hand to the sky and, pointing to the stars, said, "You can talk all you want, gentlemen, but who created all of that?" The idea that a name could last in people's memories was to him proof of the soul's immortality. He was completely open-minded towards all kinds of religious beliefs.







      Among Bonaparte's singular habits was that of seating himself on any table
      which happened to be of a suitable height for him. He would often sit on
      mine, resting his left arm on my right shoulder, and swinging his left
      leg, which did not reach the ground; and while he dictated to me he would
      jolt the table so that I could scarcely write.
    
Among Bonaparte's unique habits was his tendency to sit on any table that was the right height for him. He often sat on mine, resting his left arm on my right shoulder and swinging his left leg, which didn’t touch the ground; while he dictated to me, he would bump the table so hard that I could hardly write.







      Bonaparte had a great dislike to reconsider any decision, even when it was
      acknowledged to be unjust. In little as well as in great things he evinced
      his repugnance to retrograde. An instance of this occurred in the affair
      of General Latour-Foissac. The First Consul felt how much he had wronged
      that general; but he wished some time to elapse before he repaired his
      error. His heart and his conduct were at variance; but his feelings were
      overcome by what he conceived to be political necessity. Bonaparte was
      never known to say, "I have done wrong:" his usual observation was, "I
      begin to think there is something wrong."
    
Bonaparte really disliked revisiting any decision, even when it was clear it was unfair. In both small and big matters, he showed his aversion to backtracking. One example of this was with General Latour-Foissac. The First Consul realized how much he had wronged that general, but he wanted to wait for some time before fixing his mistake. His emotions and actions were at odds; however, he let his feelings be overshadowed by what he saw as political necessity. Bonaparte was never known to say, "I was wrong": his typical comment was, "I’m starting to think something is wrong."







      In spite of this sort of feeling, which was more worthy of an ill-humoured
      philosopher than the head of a government, Bonaparte was neither malignant
      nor vindictive. I cannot certainly defend him against all the reproaches
      which he incurred through the imperious law of war and cruel necessity;
      but I may say that he has often been unjustly accused. None but those who
      are blinded by fury will call him a Nero or a Caligula. I think I have
      avowed his faults with sufficient candour to entitle me to credit when I
      speak in his commendation; and I declare that, out of the field of battle,
      Bonaparte had a kind and feeling heart. He was very fond of children, a
      trait which seldom distinguishes a bad man. In the relations of private
      life to call him amiable would not be using too strong a word, and he was
      very indulgent to the weakness of human nature. The contrary opinion is
      too firmly fixed in some minds for me to hope to root it out. I shall, I
      fear, have contradictors, but I address myself to those who look for
      truth. To judge impartially we must take into account the influence which
      time and circumstances exercise on men; and distinguish between the
      different characters of the Collegian, the General, the Consul, and the
      Emperor.
    
Despite this kind of feeling, which seemed more suited to a grumpy philosopher than a head of state, Bonaparte was neither spiteful nor revengeful. I can't completely defend him against all the criticisms he faced due to the harsh realities of war and grim necessity; however, I can say that he has often been unfairly accused. Only those blinded by rage would compare him to a Nero or a Caligula. I believe I have acknowledged his faults honestly enough to earn some trust when I speak positively about him; and I assert that, away from the battlefield, Bonaparte had a kind and compassionate heart. He was very fond of children, a quality that rarely characterizes a bad person. In terms of private life, calling him pleasant wouldn’t be an exaggeration, and he was very forgiving of human weaknesses. Unfortunately, the opposite view is so entrenched in some minds that I don’t expect to change it. I fear I will face opposition, but I speak to those who seek the truth. To judge fairly, we must consider the impact of time and circumstances on individuals and differentiate between the various roles he played: the Collegian, the General, the Consul, and the Emperor.








 


 




















      CHAPTER XXIX.
    



      1800.
    
1800.


   Bonaparte's laws—Suppression of the festival of the 21st of
   January—Officials visits—The Temple—Louis XVI. and Sir Sidney
   Smith—Peculation during the Directory—Loan raised—Modest budget
   —The Consul and the Member of the Institute—The figure of the
   Republic—Duroc's missions—The King of Prussia—The Emperor
   Alexander—General Latour-Foissac—Arbitrary decree—Company of
   players for Egypt—Singular ideas respecting literary property—
   The preparatory Consulate—The journals—Sabres and muskets of
   honour—The First Consul and his Comrade—The bust of Brutus—
   Statues in the gallery of the Tuileries—Sections of the Council
   of State—Costumes of public functionaries—Masquerades—The
   opera-balls—Recall of the exiles.

   Bonaparte's laws—Abolition of the festival on January 21st—Official visits—The Temple—Louis XVI and Sir Sidney Smith—Corruption during the Directory—Loan raised—Modest budget—The Consul and the Member of the Institute—The figure of the Republic—Duroc's missions—The King of Prussia—Emperor Alexander—General Latour-Foissac—Arbitrary decree—Company of actors for Egypt—Unique ideas about intellectual property—The preparatory Consulate—The journals—Sabers and honorary muskets—The First Consul and his Comrade—The bust of Brutus—Statues in the Tuileries gallery—Sections of the Council of State—Public officials' costumes—Masquerades—The opera balls—Recall of the exiles.







      It is not my purpose to say much about the laws, decrees, and
      'Senatus-Consultes', which the First Consul either passed, or caused to be
      passed, after his accession to power, what were they all, with the
      exception of the Civil Code? The legislative reveries of the different men
      who have from time to time ruled France form an immense labyrinth, in
      which chicanery bewilders reason and common sense; and they would long
      since have been buried in oblivion had they not occasionally served to
      authorise injustice. I cannot, however, pass over unnoticed the happy
      effect produced in Paris, and throughout the whole of France, by some of
      the first decisions of the Consuls. Perhaps none but those who witnessed
      the state of society during the reign of Terror can fully appreciate the
      satisfaction which the first steps towards the restoration of social order
      produced in the breasts of all honest men. The Directory, more base and
      not less perverse than the Convention, had retained the horrible 21st of
      January among the festivals of the Republic. One of Bonaparte's first
      ideas on attaining the possession of power was to abolish this; but such
      was the ascendency of the abettors of the fearful event that he could not
      venture on a straightforward course. He and his two colleagues, who were
      Sieyès and Roger Ducos, signed, on the 5th Nivôse, a decree, setting forth
      that in future the only festivals to be celebrated by the Republic were
      the 1st Vendemiaire and the 14th of July, intending by this means to
      consecrate provisionally the recollection of the foundation of the
      Republic and of liberty.
    
I'm not going to say much about the laws, decrees, and 'Senatus-Consultes' that the First Consul either passed or had passed after he took power. What were they all, except for the Civil Code? The legislative musings of the various leaders who have ruled France over time form a complex maze where trickery confounds reason and common sense; they would have long been forgotten if they hadn’t sometimes been used to justify injustice. However, I can’t overlook the positive impact that some of the early decisions of the Consuls had in Paris and across France. Perhaps only those who experienced the state of society during the Reign of Terror can truly appreciate the relief that the first steps toward re-establishing social order brought to all honest people. The Directory, which was even more corrupt and no less wicked than the Convention, had kept the terrible January 21st as a festival of the Republic. One of Bonaparte's first ideas upon gaining power was to put an end to this; however, the influence of those who supported that dreadful event was so strong that he couldn’t take a direct approach. On January 5th, he and his two colleagues, Sieyès and Roger Ducos, signed a decree stating that the only festivals to be celebrated by the Republic from then on would be the 1st of Vendemiaire and the 14th of July, intending to temporarily honor the memory of the foundation of the Republic and of liberty.







      All was calculation with Bonaparte. To produce effect was his highest
      gratification. Thus he let slip no opportunity of saying or doing things
      which were calculated to dazzle the multitude. While at the Luxembourg, he
      went sometimes accompanied by his 'aides de camp' and sometimes by a
      Minister, to pay certain official visits. I did not accompany him on these
      occasions; but almost always either on his return, after dinner, or in the
      evening, he related to me what he had done and said. He congratulated
      himself on having paid a visit to Daubenton, at the Jardin des Plantes,
      and talked with great self-complacency of the distinguished way in which
      he had treated the contemporary of Buffon.
    
Everything was strategic with Bonaparte. Making an impression was his greatest satisfaction. So, he never missed a chance to say or do things that would impress the crowd. While at the Luxembourg, he would sometimes go accompanied by his aides and sometimes by a Minister to make certain official visits. I didn't go with him on these occasions; however, almost always either on his return, after dinner, or in the evening, he would tell me what he had done and said. He praised himself for having visited Daubenton at the Jardin des Plantes and spoke with great self-satisfaction about the distinguished way he had treated Buffon's contemporary.







      On the 24th Brumaire he visited the prisons. He liked to make these visits
      unexpectedly, and to take the governors of the different public
      establishments by surprise; so that, having no time to make their
      preparations, he might see things as they really were. I was in his
      cabinet when he returned, for I had a great deal of business to go through
      in his absence. As he entered he exclaimed, "What brutes these Directors
      are! To what a state they have brought our public establishments! But,
      stay a little! I will put all in order. The prisons are in a shockingly
      unwholesome state, and the prisoners miserably fed. I questioned them, and
      I questioned the jailers, for nothing is to be learned from the superiors.
      They, of course, always speak well of their own work! When I was in the
      Temple I could not help thinking of the unfortunate Louis XVI. He was an
      excellent man, but too amiable, too gentle for the times. He knew not how
      to deal with mankind! And Sir Sidney Smith! I made them show me his
      apartment. If the fools had not let him escape I should have taken St.
      Jean d'Acre! There are too many painful recollections connected with that
      prison! I will certainly have it pulled down some day or other! What do
      you think I did at the Temple? I ordered the jailers' books to be brought
      to me, and finding that some hostages were still in confinement I
      liberated them. 'An unjust law,' said I, 'has deprived you of liberty; my
      first duty is to restore it to you.' 'Was not this well done, Bourrienne?'
      As I was, no less than Bonaparte himself, an enemy to the revolutionary
      laws, I congratulated him sincerely; and he was very sensible to my
      approbation, for I was not accustomed to greet him with 'Good; very good,'
      on all occasions. It is true, knowing his character as I did, I avoided
      saying anything that was calculated to offend him; but when I said
      nothing, he knew very well how to construe my silence. Had I flattered him
      I should have continued longer in favour."
    
On the 24th Brumaire, he visited the prisons. He liked to make these visits unexpectedly and surprise the heads of the different public facilities so that they had no time to prepare, allowing him to see things as they really were. I was in his office when he came back since I had a lot of work to get through in his absence. As he entered, he exclaimed, "What brutes these Directors are! Look at the state they’ve left our public facilities in! But hold on! I’ll fix everything. The prisons are in terrible condition, and the prisoners are poorly fed. I asked them questions, and I questioned the jailers, because you can’t learn anything from the superiors. They always talk positively about their own work! When I was in the Temple, I couldn’t help but think of the unfortunate Louis XVI. He was a good man, but too kind and gentle for those times. He didn’t know how to handle people! And Sir Sidney Smith! I had them show me his room. If those fools hadn’t let him escape, I would have taken St. Jean d'Acre! There are too many painful memories tied to that prison! I will definitely have it torn down someday! Do you know what I did at the Temple? I had the jailers’ logs brought to me, and when I found out that some hostages were still locked up, I set them free. 'An unjust law,' I said, 'has taken your freedom; my first duty is to give it back to you.' 'Wasn’t that a good move, Bourrienne?' Since I was, just like Bonaparte himself, against the revolutionary laws, I truly congratulated him, and he appreciated my praise because I wasn't used to just saying 'Good; very good' all the time. It’s true that, knowing his nature, I avoided saying anything that might upset him; but when I didn’t say anything, he knew how to interpret my silence. If I had flattered him, I might have stayed in his good graces longer."







      Bonaparte always spoke angrily of the Directors he had turned off. Their
      incapacity disgusted and astonished him. "What simpletons! what a
      government!" he would frequently exclaim when he looked into the measures
      of the Directory. "Bourrienne," said he, "can you imagine anything more
      pitiable than their system of finance? Can it for a moment be doubted that
      the principal agents of authority daily committed the most fraudulent
      peculations? What venality! what disorder! what wastefulness! everything
      put up for sale: places, provisions, clothing, and military, all were
      disposed of. Have they not actually consumed 75,000,000 in advance? And
      then, think of all the scandalous fortunes accumulated, all the
      malversations! But are there no means of making them refund? We shall
      see."
    
Bonaparte always spoke angrily about the Directors he had dismissed. Their incompetence disgusted and shocked him. "What fools! What a government!" he would often exclaim when he reviewed the actions of the Directory. "Bourrienne," he said, "can you imagine anything more pathetic than their financial system? Is there any doubt that the main authorities were daily committing the most fraudulent acts? What corruption! What chaos! What waste! Everything was for sale: jobs, food, clothing, and military supplies, all were up for grabs. Have they really spent 75,000,000 in advance? And think about all the outrageous fortunes made, all the wrongdoing! But is there any way to make them pay it back? We'll see."







      In these first moments of poverty it was found necessary to raise a loan,
      for the funds of M. Collot did not last long, and 12,000,000 were advanced
      by the different bankers of Paris, who, I believe, were paid by bills of
      the receivers-general, the discount of which then amounted to about 33 per
      cent. The salaries of the first offices were not very considerable, and
      did not amount to anything like the exorbitant stipends of the Empire.
    
In the early days of poverty, it became necessary to take out a loan because M. Collot's funds ran out quickly. Different bankers in Paris advanced 12,000,000, and I believe they were repaid with bills from the receivers-general, which had a discount rate of around 33 percent at that time. The salaries for the first offices weren't very high and were nothing like the outrageous pay from the Empire.







      Bonaparte's salary was fixed at 500,000 francs. What a contrast to the
      300,000,000 in gold which were reported to have been concealed in 1811 in
      the cellars of the Tuileries!
    
Bonaparte's salary was set at 500,000 francs. What a difference compared to the 300,000,000 in gold that was said to be hidden in 1811 in the cellars of the Tuileries!







      In mentioning Bonaparte's nomination to the Institute, and his affectation
      in putting at the head of his proclamation his title of member of that
      learned body before that of General-in-Chief, I omitted to state what
      value he really attached to that title. The truth is that, when young and
      ambitious, he was pleased with the proffered title, which he thought would
      raise him in public estimation. How often have we laughed together when he
      weighed the value of his scientific titles! Bonaparte, to be sure, knew
      something of mathematics, a good deal of history, and, I need not add,
      possessed extraordinary military talent; but he was nevertheless a useless
      member of the Institute.
    
When I talked about Bonaparte's nomination to the Institute and how he made a point of listing his title as a member of that learned body before General-in-Chief in his proclamation, I forgot to mention how much he actually valued that title. The truth is, when he was young and ambitious, he was pleased with the title because he believed it would boost his public image. How often did we laugh together as he considered the worth of his scientific titles! Bonaparte certainly knew a fair amount about mathematics, quite a bit about history, and, of course, had remarkable military talent; however, he was still a pretty useless member of the Institute.







      On his return from Egypt he began to grow weary of a title which gave him
      so many colleagues. "Do you not think," said he one day to me, "that there
      is something mean and humiliating in the words, 'I have the honour to be,
      my dear Colleague'! I am tired of it!" Generally speaking, all phrases
      which indicated equality displeased him. It will be recollected how
      gratified he was that I did not address him in the second person singular
      on our meeting at Leoben, and also what befell M. de Cominges at Bâle
      because he did not observe the same precaution.
    
On his return from Egypt, he started to get tired of a title that came with so many colleagues. "Don’t you think," he said to me one day, "that there’s something petty and humiliating in the words, 'I have the honor to be, my dear Colleague'? I’m over it!" Generally, he was annoyed by any phrases that suggested equality. Remember how pleased he was that I didn’t address him in the informal form when we met at Leoben, and what happened to M. de Cominges in Bâle when he didn’t take the same care?







      The figure of the Republic seated and holding a spear in her hand, which
      at the commencement of the Consulate was stamped on official letters, was
      speedily abolished. Happy would it have been if Liberty herself had not
      suffered the same treatment as her emblem! The title of First Consul made
      him despise that of Member of the Institute. He no longer entertained the
      least predilection for that learned body, and subsequently he regarded it
      with much suspicion. It was a body, an authorised assembly; these were
      reasons sufficient for him to take umbrage at it, and he never concealed
      his dislike of all bodies possessing the privilege of meeting and
      deliberating.
    
The image of the Republic sitting and holding a spear, which appeared on official letters at the start of the Consulate, was quickly removed. It would have been better if Liberty herself had not been treated the same way as her symbol! The title of First Consul made him look down on the title of Member of the Institute. He lost all interest in that scholarly group and eventually viewed it with great skepticism. It was a body, an authorized assembly; those were enough reasons for him to take offense, and he never hid his dislike for any groups that had the privilege to meet and discuss.







      While we were at the Luxembourg Bonaparte despatched Duroc on a special
      mission to the King of Prussia. This happened, I think, at the very
      beginning of the year 1800. He selected Duroc because he was a man of good
      education and agreeable manners, and one who could express himself with
      elegance and reserve, qualities not often met with at that period. Duroc
      had been with us in Italy, in Egypt, and on board the 'Muiron', and the
      Consul easily guessed that the King of Prussia would be delighted to hear
      from an eye-witness the events of Bonaparte's campaigns, especially the
      siege of St. Jean d'Acre, and the scenes which took place during the
      months of March and May at Jaffa. Besides, the First Consul considered it
      indispensable that such circumstantial details should be given in a way to
      leave no doubt of their correctness. His intentions were fully realised;
      for Duroc told me, on his return, that nearly the whole of the
      conversation he had with the King turned upon St. Jean d'Acre and Jaffa.
      He stayed nearly two whole hours with his Majesty, who, the day after,
      gave him an invitation to dinner. When this intelligence arrived at the
      Luxembourg I could perceive that the Chief of the Republic was flattered
      that one of his aides de camp should have sat at table with a King, who
      some years after was doomed to wait for him in his antechamber at Tilsit.
    
While we were at the Luxembourg, Bonaparte sent Duroc on a special mission to the King of Prussia. I think this happened at the very beginning of the year 1800. He chose Duroc because he was well-educated and had a pleasant demeanor, and he could express himself with elegance and restraint, qualities that weren't very common at that time. Duroc had been with us in Italy, in Egypt, and on the 'Muiron,' and the Consul easily figured that the King of Prussia would be eager to hear from someone who witnessed Bonaparte's campaigns, especially the siege of St. Jean d'Acre and the events that took place in March and May at Jaffa. Additionally, the First Consul believed it was essential that such detailed accounts were presented in a way that left no doubt about their accuracy. His intentions were fully realized; Duroc told me upon his return that nearly all his conversation with the King focused on St. Jean d'Acre and Jaffa. He spent almost two entire hours with His Majesty, who, the following day, invited him to dinner. When this news reached the Luxembourg, I could tell that the Chief of the Republic was pleased that one of his aides-de-camp had dined with a King, who, a few years later, would be waiting for him in his antechamber at Tilsit.







      Duroc never spoke on politics to the King of Prussia, which was very
      fortunate, for, considering his age and the exclusively military life he
      had led, he could scarcely have been expected to avoid blunders. Some time
      later, after the death of Paul I., he was sent to congratulate Alexander
      on his accession to the throne. Bonaparte's design in thus making choice
      of Duroc was to introduce to the Courts of Europe, by confidential
      missions, a young man to whom he was much attached, and also to bring him
      forward in France. Duroc went on his third mission to Berlin after the war
      broke out with Austria. He often wrote to me, and his letters convinced me
      how much he had improved himself within a short time.
    
Duroc never talked about politics with the King of Prussia, which was lucky because, given his age and strictly military background, it’s hard to believe he wouldn't have made mistakes. Some time later, after Paul I's death, he was sent to congratulate Alexander on his rise to the throne. Bonaparte's plan in choosing Duroc was to introduce a young man he cared about to the Courts of Europe through secret missions, and also to promote him in France. Duroc went on his third mission to Berlin after the war with Austria started. He often wrote to me, and his letters showed me how much he had improved in a short period.







      Another circumstance which happened at the commencement of the Consulate
      affords an example of Bonaparte's inflexibility when he had once formed a
      determination. In the spring of 1799, when we were in Egypt, the Directory
      gave to General Latour-Foissac, a highly distinguished officer, the
      command of Mantua, the taking of which had so powerfully contributed to
      the glory of the conqueror of Italy. Shortly after Latour's appointment to
      this important post the Austrians besieged Mantua. It was well known that
      the garrison was supplied with provisions and ammunition for a long
      resistance; yet, in the month of July it surrendered to the Austrians. The
      act of capitulation contained a curious article, viz. "General
      Latour-Foissac and his staff shall be conducted as prisoners to Austria;
      the garrison shall be allowed to return to France." This distinction
      between the general and the troops entrusted to his command, and at the
      same time the prompt surrender of Mantua, were circumstances which, it
      must be confessed, were calculated to excite suspicions of Latour-Foissac.
      The consequence was, when Bernadotte was made War Minister he ordered an
      inquiry into the general's conduct by a court-martial. Latour-Foissac had
      no sooner returned to France than he published a justificatory memorial,
      in which he showed the impossibility of his having made a longer defence
      when he was in want of many objects of the first necessity.
    
Another situation that occurred at the beginning of the Consulate illustrates Bonaparte's determination once he made a decision. In the spring of 1799, when we were in Egypt, the Directory appointed General Latour-Foissac, a highly respected officer, to command Mantua, which had significantly contributed to the glory of the conqueror of Italy. Shortly after Latour took on this crucial role, the Austrians laid siege to Mantua. It was widely known that the garrison had enough supplies for a lengthy defense; however, in July, it surrendered to the Austrians. The terms of surrender included a peculiar clause: "General Latour-Foissac and his staff shall be taken as prisoners to Austria; the garrison shall be allowed to return to France." This distinction between the general and the troops under his command, along with the quick surrender of Mantua, understandably raised suspicions about Latour-Foissac. As a result, when Bernadotte became War Minister, he ordered a court-martial investigation into the general's actions. Soon after returning to France, Latour-Foissac published a defense statement, demonstrating that a longer defense was impossible due to a lack of many essential supplies.







      Such was the state of the affair on Bonaparte's elevation to the Consular
      power. The loss of Mantua, the possession of which had cost him so many
      sacrifices, roused his indignation to so high a pitch that whenever the
      subject was mentioned he could find no words to express his rage. He
      stopped the investigation of the court-martial, and issued a violent
      decree against Latour-Foissac even before his culpability had been proved.
      This proceeding occasioned much discussion, and was very dissatisfactory
      to many general officers, who, by this arbitrary decision, found
      themselves in danger of forfeiting the privilege of being tried by their
      natural judges whenever they happened to displease the First Consul. For
      my own part, I must say that this decree against Latour-Foissac was one
      which I saw issued with considerable regret. I was alarmed for the
      consequences. After the lapse of a few days I ventured to point out to him
      the undue severity of the step he had taken; I reminded him of all that
      had been said in Latour-Foissac's favour, and tried to convince him how
      much more just it would be to allow the trial to come to a conclusion. "In
      a country," said I, "like France, where the point of honour stands above
      every thing, it is impossible Foissac can escape condemnation if he be
      culpable."—"Perhaps you are right, Bourrienne," rejoined he; "but
      the blow is struck; the decree is issued. I have given the same
      explanation to every one; but I cannot so suddenly retrace my steps. To
      retro-grade is to be lost. I cannot acknowledge myself in the wrong. By
      and by we shall see what can be done. Time will bring lenity and pardon.
      At present it would be premature." Such, word for word, was Bonaparte's
      reply. If with this be compared what he said on the subject at St. Helena
      it will be found that his ideas continued nearly unchanged; the only
      difference is that, instead of the impetuosity of 1800, he expressed
      himself with the calmness which time and adversity naturally produce.
    
The situation was like this when Bonaparte rose to power as Consul. The loss of Mantua, which he had sacrificed so much to keep, infuriated him so much that he couldn't even find words to express his anger whenever the topic came up. He halted the court-martial investigation and issued a harsh decree against Latour-Foissac even before proving his guilt. This caused a lot of debate and dissatisfaction among many senior officers, who felt at risk of losing their right to be tried by their peers every time they upset the First Consul. Personally, I regret the decree against Latour-Foissac. I was worried about the repercussions. A few days later, I took the chance to point out to him how excessive his action was; I reminded him of all the support for Latour-Foissac and tried to persuade him that it would be fairer to let the trial run its course. "In a country," I said, "like France, where honor is everything, Foissac can't escape punishment if he's guilty."—"Maybe you're right, Bourrienne," he replied; "but the decision has been made; the decree is out. I've explained this to everyone, but I can't just backtrack. To go backwards is to be lost. I can't admit I'm wrong. We'll see later what can be done. Time will bring understanding and forgiveness. Right now, it's too soon." That was Bonaparte's exact response. If you compare this to what he said about the matter at St. Helena, you'll find that his views remained almost the same; the only difference is that, instead of the impulsiveness of 1800, he spoke with the calmness that comes with time and hardship.






 —["It was," says the 'Memorial of St. Helena', "an illegal and
   tyrannical act, but still it was a necessary evil. It was the fault
   of the law. He was a hundred, nay, a thousand fold guilty, and yet
   it was doubtful whether he would be condemned. We therefore
   assailed him with the shafts of honour and public opinion. Yet I
   repeat it was a tyrannical act, and one of those violent measures
   which are at times necessary in great nations and in extraordinary
   circumstances."]— 
—["It was," says the 'Memorial of St. Helena', "an illegal and oppressive act, but it was still a necessary evil. The law was at fault. He was a hundred, no, a thousand times guilty, and yet it was uncertain whether he would be convicted. So, we attacked him with the arrows of honor and public opinion. Still, I must say it was an oppressive act, and one of those extreme measures that are sometimes necessary in large nations and extraordinary situations."]—







      Bonaparte, as I have before observed, loved contrasts; and I remember at
      the very time he was acting so violently against Latour-Foissac he
      condescended to busy himself about a company of players which he wished to
      send to Egypt, or rather that he pretended to wish to send there, because
      the announcement of such a project conveyed an impression of the
      prosperous condition of our Oriental colony. The Consuls gravely appointed
      the Minister of the Interior to execute this business, and the Minister in
      his turn delegated his powers to Florence, the actor. In their
      instructions to the Minister the Consuls observed that it would be
      advisable to include some female dancers in the company; a suggestion
      which corresponds with Bonaparte's note, in which were specified all that
      he considered necessary for the Egyptian expedition.
    
Bonaparte, as I've mentioned before, loved contrasts. I remember that while he was acting so forcefully against Latour-Foissac, he also took the time to get involved with a theater company he wanted to send to Egypt—or rather, he pretended he wanted to send them there because announcing such a plan created the impression that our Eastern colony was thriving. The Consuls officially tasked the Minister of the Interior with this project, and in turn, the Minister handed the responsibility over to Florence, the actor. In their instructions to the Minister, the Consuls noted that it would be wise to include some female dancers in the group, which aligned with Bonaparte's memo that outlined everything he deemed necessary for the Egyptian expedition.







      The First Consul entertained singular notions respecting literary
      property. On his hearing that a piece, entitled 'Misanthropie et
      Repentir', had been brought out at the Odeon, he said to me, "Bourrienne,
      you have been robbed."—"I, General? how?"—"You have been
      robbed, I tell you, and they are now acting your piece." I have already
      mentioned that during my stay at Warsaw I amused myself with translating a
      celebrated play of Kotzebue. While we were in Italy I lent Bonaparte my
      translation to read, and he expressed himself much pleased with it. He
      greatly admired the piece, and often went to see it acted at the Odeon. On
      his return he invariably gave me fresh reasons for my claiming what he was
      pleased to call my property. I represented to him that the translation of
      a foreign work belonged to any one who chose to execute it. He would not,
      however, give up his point, and I was obliged to assure him that my
      occupations in his service left me no time to engage in a literary
      lawsuit. He then exacted a promise from me to translate Goethe's
      'Werther'. I told him it was already done, though indifferently, and that
      I could not possibly devote to the subject the time it merited. I read
      over to him one of the letters I had translated into French, and which he
      seemed to approve.
    
The First Consul had some unique views about literary ownership. When he heard that a play called 'Misanthropie et Repentir' was being performed at the Odeon, he said to me, "Bourrienne, you've been ripped off."—"Me, General? How?"—"You've been robbed, I tell you, and they're performing your play." I've already mentioned that while I was in Warsaw, I had fun translating a famous play by Kotzebue. When we were in Italy, I shared my translation with Bonaparte to read, and he really liked it. He admired the play a lot and often went to see it at the Odeon. When he returned, he always gave me new reasons to claim what he called my property. I explained to him that translating a foreign work belongs to anyone who chooses to do it. However, he wouldn’t back down, and I had to tell him that my work for him left me no time for a literary dispute. He then insisted that I promise to translate Goethe's 'Werther'. I told him I had already done so, though not very well, and that I couldn’t dedicate the time it deserved. I read one of the letters I had translated into French to him, and he seemed to approve.







      That interval of the Consular Government during which Bonaparte remained
      at the Luxembourg may be called the preparatory Consulate. Then were sown
      the seeds of the great events which he meditated, and of those
      institutions with which he wished to mark his possession of power. He was
      then, if I may use the expression, two individuals in one: the Republican
      general, who was obliged to appear the advocate of liberty and the
      principles of the Revolution; and the votary of ambition, secretly
      plotting the downfall of that liberty and those principles.
    
That period of the Consular Government when Bonaparte was at the Luxembourg can be described as the preparatory Consulate. During this time, he planted the seeds for the major events he was planning and the institutions he wanted to establish to signify his hold on power. He was, if I can put it this way, like two people in one: the Republican general who had to act as a supporter of freedom and the ideals of the Revolution, and the ambitious player secretly scheming to undermine that freedom and those ideals.







      I often wondered at the consummate address with which he contrived to
      deceive those who were likely to see through his designs. This hypocrisy,
      which some, perhaps, may call profound policy, was indispensable to the
      accomplishment of his projects; and sometimes, as if to keep himself in
      practice, he would do it in matters of secondary importance. For example,
      his opinion of the insatiable avarice of Sieyès is well known; yet when he
      proposed, in his message to the Council of Ancients, to give his
      colleague, under the title of national recompense, the price of his
      obedient secession, it was, in the words of the message, a recompense
      worthily bestowed on his disinterested virtues.
    
I often marveled at the skillful way he managed to fool those who were likely to see through his schemes. This deception, which some might call clever strategy, was essential to achieving his goals; and sometimes, as if to keep himself sharp, he would do it for matters of less importance. For instance, his well-known view of Sieyès's endless greed is a good example; yet when he suggested, in his message to the Council of Ancients, that he should give his colleague, under the guise of a national reward, the price for his compliant withdrawal, it was, as stated in the message, a reward justly given for his selfless virtues.







      While at the Luxembourg Bonaparte showed, by a Consular act, his hatred of
      the liberty of the press above all liberties, for he loved none. On the
      27th Nivôse the Consuls, or rather the First Consul, published a decree,
      the real object of which was evidently contrary to its implied object.
    
While at the Luxembourg, Bonaparte demonstrated, through a Consular act, his disdain for press freedom more than any other liberty, since he cherished none. On the 27th of Nivôse, the Consuls, or more accurately, the First Consul, issued a decree, the actual purpose of which was clearly opposed to its stated intent.







      This decree stated that:
    
This decree said that:







      The Consuls of the Republic, considering that some of the journals printed
      at Paris are instruments in the hands of the enemies of the Republic, over
      the safety of which the Government is specially entrusted by the people of
      France to watch, decree—
    
The Consuls of the Republic, recognizing that some of the newspapers published in Paris are tools used by the enemies of the Republic, which the Government is specifically tasked by the people of France to protect, hereby decree—







      That the Minister of Police shall, during the continuation of the war,
      allow only the following journals to be printed and published, viz. (list
      of 20 publications)
    
That the Minister of Police will, during the ongoing war, permit the printing and publication of only the following journals: (list of 20 publications)







      .....and those papers which are exclusively devoted to science, art,
      literature, commerce, and advertisements.
    
.....and those publications that are solely focused on science, art, literature, commerce, and ads.







      Surely this decree may well be considered as preparatory; and the fragment
      I have quoted may serve as a standard for measuring the greater part of
      those acts by which Bonaparte sought to gain, for the consolidation of his
      power, what he seemed to be seeking solely for the interest of the friends
      of the Republic. The limitation to the period of the continuance of the
      war had also a certain provisional air which afforded hope for the future.
      But everything provisional is, in its nature, very elastic; and Bonaparte
      knew how to draw it out ad infinitum. The decree, moreover, enacted that
      if any of the uncondemned journals should insert articles against the
      sovereignty of the people they would be immediately suppressed. In truth,
      great indulgence was shown on this point, even after the Emperor's
      coronation.
    
Surely this decree can be seen as a preliminary step; and the excerpt I’ve referenced can serve as a benchmark for evaluating most of the actions Bonaparte took to establish his power, which he seemed to pursue only for the benefit of the Republic’s supporters. The restriction on the duration of the war had a somewhat temporary feel, which offered hope for the future. However, everything temporary is, by nature, very flexible; and Bonaparte knew how to stretch it indefinitely. Additionally, the decree stated that if any of the uncondemned newspapers published articles against the sovereignty of the people, they would be immediately shut down. In fact, considerable leniency was shown in this regard, even after the Emperor’s coronation.







      The presentation of swords and muskets of honour also originated at the
      Luxembourg; and this practice was, without doubt, a preparatory step to
      the foundation of the Legion of Honour.
    
The presentation of swords and muskets of honor also started at the Luxembourg, and this practice was definitely a preliminary step towards establishing the Legion of Honor.






 —["Armes d'honneur," decreed 25th December 1799. Muskets for
   infantry, carbines for cavalry, grenades for artillery, swords for
   the officers. Gouvion St. Cyr received the first sword (Thiers,
   tome i. p. 126).]— 
 —["Honorary arms," decreed December 25, 1799. Muskets for infantry, carbines for cavalry, grenades for artillery, swords for the officers. Gouvion St. Cyr received the first sword (Thiers, vol. i, p. 126).]—







      A grenadier sergeant, named Léon Aune, who had been included in the first
      distribution, easily obtained permission to write to the First Consul to
      thank him. Bonaparte, wishing to answer him in his own name, dictated to
      me the following letter for Aune:—
    
A grenadier sergeant named Léon Aune, who was included in the first distribution, quickly got permission to write to the First Consul to express his thanks. Bonaparte, wanting to respond personally, dictated the following letter to me for Aune:—






   I have received your letter, my brave comrade. You needed not to
   have told me of your exploits, for you are the bravest grenadier in
   the whole army since the death of Benezete. You received one of the
   hundred sabres I distributed to the army, and all agreed you most
   deserved it.

   I wish very much again to see you. The War Minister sends you an
   order to come to Paris.

   I got your letter, my brave friend. You didn’t need to tell me about your adventures, because you’re the bravest grenadier in the entire army since Benezete passed away. You got one of the hundred sabers I handed out to the army, and everyone agreed you truly earned it.

   I really want to see you again. The War Minister is sending you an order to come to Paris.







      This wheedling wonderfully favoured Bonaparte's designs. His letter to
      Aune could not fail to be circulated through the army. A sergeant called
      my brave comrade by the First Consul—the First General of France!
      Who but a thorough Republican, the stanch friend of equality, would have
      done this? This was enough to wind up the enthusiasm of the army. At the
      same time it must be confessed that Bonaparte began to find the Luxembourg
      too little for him, and preparations were set on foot at the Tuileries.
    
This flattering approach really helped Bonaparte's plans. His letter to Aune was bound to spread throughout the army. A sergeant referred to my brave comrade as the First Consul—the First General of France! Who but a true Republican, a loyal supporter of equality, would have done this? This was enough to ramp up the army's enthusiasm. At the same time, it has to be acknowledged that Bonaparte started to feel that the Luxembourg was too small for him, and preparations were underway at the Tuileries.







      Still this great step towards the re-establishment of the monarchy was to
      be cautiously prepared. It was important to do away with the idea that
      none but a king could occupy the palace of our ancient kings. What was to
      be done? A very fine bust of Brutus had been brought from Italy. Brutus
      was the destroyer of tyrants! This was the very thing; and David was
      commissioned to place it in a gallery of the Tuileries. Could there be a
      greater proof of the Consul's horror of tyranny?
    
Even so, this significant move towards restoring the monarchy had to be approached carefully. It was crucial to eliminate the notion that only a king could reside in the palace of our historical rulers. What should be done? A beautiful bust of Brutus had been brought over from Italy. Brutus was known as the one who defeated tyrants! This was exactly what was needed, and David was tasked with placing it in a gallery at the Tuileries. Could there be a stronger indication of the Consul's aversion to tyranny?







      To sleep at the Tuileries, in the bedchamber of the kings of France, was
      all that Bonaparte wanted; the rest would follow in due course. He was
      willing to be satisfied with establishing a principle the consequences of
      which were to be afterwards deduced. Hence the affectation of never
      inserting in official acts the name of the Tuileries, but designating that
      place as the Palace of the Government. The first preparations were modest,
      for it did not become a good Republican to be fond of pomp. Accordingly
      Lecomte, who was at that time architect of the Tuileries, merely received
      orders to clean the Palace, an expression which might bear more than one
      meaning, after the meetings which had been there. For this purpose the sum
      of 500,000 francs was sufficient. Bonaparte's drift was to conceal, as far
      as possible, the importance he attached to the change of his Consular
      domicile. But little expense was requisite for fitting up apartments for
      the First Consul. Simple ornaments, such as marbles and statues, were to
      decorate the Palace of the Government.
    
To sleep at the Tuileries, in the bedroom of the kings of France, was all Bonaparte wanted; everything else would come in time. He was okay with just establishing a principle that would lead to further implications later. That's why he pretended to avoid mentioning the Tuileries in official documents, referring to it instead as the Palace of the Government. The initial preparations were modest, since a true Republican shouldn't be too fond of extravagance. Therefore, Lecomte, who was the architect of the Tuileries at the time, was simply given orders to clean the Palace, a term that could mean more than one thing after the political gatherings that had taken place there. For this, a budget of 500,000 francs was enough. Bonaparte aimed to downplay the significance he placed on moving his Consular residence. It didn't require much expense to set up living spaces for the First Consul. Simple decorations, like marbles and statues, were intended to adorn the Palace of the Government.







      Nothing escaped Bonaparte's consideration. Thus it was not merely at
      hazard that he selected the statues of great men to adorn the gallery of
      the Tuileries. Among the Greeks he made choice of Demosthenes and
      Alexander, thus rendering homage at once to the genius of eloquence and
      the genius of victory. The statue of Hannibal was intended to recall the
      memory of Rome's most formidable enemy; and Rome herself was represented
      in the Consular Palace by the statues of Scipio, Cicero, Cato, Brutus and
      Caesar—the victor and the immolator being placed side by side. Among
      the great men of modern times he gave the first place to Gustavus
      Adolphus, and the next to Turenne and the great Condé, to Turenne in
      honour of his military talent, and to Condé to prove that there was
      nothing fearful in the recollection of a Bourbon. The remembrance of the
      glorious days of the French navy was revived by the statue of Duguai
      Trouin. Marlborough and Prince Eugène had also their places in the
      gallery, as if to attest the disasters which marked the close of the great
      reign; and Marshal Sage, to show that Louis XV.'s reign was not without
      its glory. The statues of Frederick and Washington were emblematic of
      false philosophy on a throne and true wisdom founding a free state.
      Finally, the names of Dugommier, Dampierre, and Joubert were intended to
      bear evidence of the high esteem which Bonaparte cherished for his old
      comrades,—those illustrious victims to a cause which had now ceased
      to be his.
    
Nothing escaped Bonaparte's attention. So, it wasn't just by chance that he chose the statues of great figures to decorate the gallery of the Tuileries. Among the Greeks, he selected Demosthenes and Alexander, paying tribute to both the brilliance of oratory and the brilliance of conquest. The statue of Hannibal was meant to remind people of Rome's most powerful enemy, while Rome itself was represented in the Consular Palace by the statues of Scipio, Cicero, Cato, Brutus, and Caesar—the victor and the sacrificer placed side by side. Among modern greats, he put Gustavus Adolphus first, followed by Turenne and the great Condé, honoring Turenne for his military skill and showing that there was nothing to fear in remembering a Bourbon. The statue of Duguai Trouin brought back memories of the glorious days of the French navy. Marlborough and Prince Eugène also had their spots in the gallery, as if to highlight the disasters that marked the end of the great reign, with Marshal Sage reminding everyone that Louis XV's reign had its moments of glory. The statues of Frederick and Washington represented false philosophy on a throne and true wisdom creating a free state. Lastly, the names of Dugommier, Dampierre, and Joubert were meant to show the high regard Bonaparte had for his old comrades—those notable victims of a cause that was no longer his.







      The reader has already been informed of the attempts made by Bonaparte to
      induce England and Austria to negotiate with the Consular Government,
      which the King of Prussia was the first of the sovereigns of Europe to
      recognise. These attempts having proved unavailing, it became necessary to
      carry on the war with renewed vigour, and also to explain why the peace,
      which had been promised at the beginning of the Consulate, was still
      nothing but a promise. In fulfilment of these two objects Bonaparte
      addressed an energetic proclamation to the armies, which was remarkable
      for not being followed by the usual sacred words, "Vive la République!"
    
The reader has already learned about Bonaparte’s efforts to get England and Austria to negotiate with the Consular Government, which the King of Prussia was the first European sovereign to recognize. Since these efforts didn’t succeed, it became necessary to fight the war with renewed energy and to explain why the peace that had been promised at the start of the Consulate was still just a promise. To achieve these two goals, Bonaparte issued a strong proclamation to the armies, notable for not including the usual sacred words, "Vive la République!"







      At the same time Bonaparte completed the formation of the Council of
      State, and divided it into five sections:—(1) The Interior; (2)
      Finance; (3) Marine; (4) The War Department; (5) Legislation. He fixed the
      salaries of the Councillors of the State at 25,000 francs, and that of the
      Precedents of Sections at 30,000. He settled the costume of the Consuls,
      the Ministers, and the different bodies of the State. This led to the
      re-introduction of velvet, which had been banished with the old regime,
      and the encouragement of the manufactures of Lyons was the reason alleged
      for employing this un-republican article in the different dresses, such as
      those of the Consuls and Ministers. It was Bonaparte's constant aim to
      efface the Republic, even in the utmost trifles, and to prepare matters so
      well that the customs and habits of monarchy being restored, there should
      only then remain a word to be changed.
    
At the same time, Bonaparte finished setting up the Council of State and divided it into five sections: (1) Interior; (2) Finance; (3) Marine; (4) War Department; (5) Legislation. He set the salaries of the Councillors of the State at 25,000 francs and the salary of the Section Heads at 30,000. He established the dress codes for the Consuls, Ministers, and various government bodies. This led to the return of velvet, which had been outlawed under the old regime, and the promotion of the Lyon textile industry was given as the reason for using this non-republican fabric in the outfits of the Consuls and Ministers. Bonaparte consistently aimed to erase the Republic, even in the smallest details, and to position things in such a way that once the customs and practices of monarchy were restored, only a word would need to be changed.







      I never remember to have seen Bonaparte in the Consular dress, which he
      detested, and which he wore only because duty required him to do so at
      public ceremonies. The only dress he was fond of, and in which he felt at
      ease, was that in which he subjugated the ancient Eridanus and the Nile,
      namely, the uniform of the Guides, to which corps Bonaparte was always
      sincerely attached.
    
I can’t recall ever seeing Bonaparte in the Consular outfit, which he hated, and he only wore it because he had to for public events. The only outfit he liked and felt comfortable in was the one where he conquered the ancient Eridanus and the Nile, specifically the uniform of the Guides, a corps that Bonaparte was always genuinely devoted to.







      The masquerade of official dresses was not the only one which Bonaparte
      summoned to the aid of his policy. At that period of the year VIII. which
      corresponded with the carnival of 1800, masques began to be resumed at
      Paris. Disguises were all the fashion, and Bonaparte favoured the revival
      of old amusements; first, because they were old, and next, because they
      were the means of diverting the attention of the people: for, as he had
      established the principle that on the field of battle it is necessary to
      divide the enemy in order to beat him, he conceived it no less advisable
      to divert the people in order to enslave them. Bonaparte did not say
      'panem et circenses', for I believe his knowledge of Latin did not extend
      even to that well-known phrase of Juvenal, but he put the maxim in
      practice. He accordingly authorised the revival of balls at the opera,
      which they who lived during that period of the Consulate know was an
      important event in Paris. Some gladly viewed it as a little conquest in
      favour of the old regime; and others, who for that very reason disapproved
      it, were too shallow to understand the influence of little over great
      things. The women and the young men did not bestow a thought on the
      subject, but yielded willingly to the attractions of pleasure. Bonaparte,
      who was delighted at having provided a diversion for the gossiping of the
      Parisian salons, said to me one day, "While they are chatting about all
      this, they do not babble upon politics, and that is what I want. Let them
      dance and amuse themselves as long as they do not thrust their noses into
      the Councils of the Government; besides, Bourrienne," added he, "I have
      other reasons for encouraging this, I see other advantages in it. Trade is
      languishing; Fouché tells me that there are great complaints. This will
      set a little money in circulation; besides, I am on my guard about the
      Jacobins. Everything is not bad, because it is not new. I prefer the
      opera-balls to the saturnalia of the Goddess of Reason. I was never so
      enthusiastically applauded as at the last parade."
    
The stylish masks and official outfits weren't the only tools Bonaparte used for his agenda. During Year VIII, which coincided with the carnival of 1800, masquerades in Paris started up again. Disguises were all the rage, and Bonaparte supported the return of these old entertainments; first, because they were traditional, and second, because they distracted the public. He believed that just like in battle, where dividing the enemy is essential for victory, it was wise to divert the people's attention to control them. Bonaparte didn’t use the phrase 'panem et circenses,' likely because his grasp of Latin didn’t extend that far, but he implemented the idea in action. He approved the revival of balls at the opera, which everyone living in that Consulate period knew was a significant event in Paris. Some viewed it as a minor victory for the old regime, while others who disapproved of it were too superficial to see how small actions could affect larger situations. The young men and women didn't dwell on the implications but eagerly embraced the joy of the festivities. Bonaparte, pleased to have redirected attention away from political gossip in the Parisian salons, told me one day, "While they’re chatting about this, they’re not discussing politics, which is just what I want. Let them dance and have fun as long as they stay out of the Government’s affairs; besides, Bourrienne," he added, "I have other reasons for promoting this. I see other benefits. The economy is sluggish; Fouché has mentioned there are many complaints. This will help circulate some money; plus, I’m wary of the Jacobins. Everything that's not new isn't necessarily bad. I prefer the opera balls over the festivals of the Goddess of Reason. I’ve never been so enthusiastically received as I was at the last parade."







      A Consular decision of a different and more important nature had, shortly
      before, namely, at the commencement of Nivôse, brought happiness to many
      families. Bonaparte, as every one knows, had prepared the events of the
      18th Fructidor that he might have some plausible reasons for overthrowing
      the Directors. The Directory being overthrown, he was now anxious, at
      least in part, to undo what he had done on the 18th Fructidor. He
      therefore ordered a report on the persons exiled to be presented to him by
      the Minister of Police. In consequence of this report he authorised forty
      of them to return to France, placing them under the observation of the
      Police Minister, and assigning them their place of residence. However,
      they did not long remain under these restrictions, and many of them were
      soon called to fill high places in the Government. It was indeed natural
      that Bonaparte, still wishing, at least in appearance, to found his
      government on those principles of moderate republicanism which had caused
      their exile, should invite them to second his views.
    
A Consular decision of a different and more significant nature had, shortly before, at the start of Nivôse, brought happiness to many families. Bonaparte, as everyone knows, had set up the events of the 18th Fructidor so he could have some reasonable grounds for toppling the Directors. With the Directory overthrown, he was eager, at least partially, to reverse what he had done on the 18th Fructidor. He therefore ordered the Minister of Police to present him with a report on the exiled individuals. Based on this report, he authorized forty of them to return to France, placing them under the supervision of the Police Minister and assigning them their residences. However, they didn’t stay under these restrictions for long, and many of them were soon appointed to high positions in the Government. It was indeed natural for Bonaparte, still wanting to at least appear to base his government on the principles of moderate republicanism that had led to their exile, to invite them to support his plans.







      Barrère wrote a justificatory letter to the First Consul, who, however,
      took no notice of it, for he could not get so far as to favour Barrère.
      Thus did Bonaparte receive into the Councils of the Consulate the men who
      had been exiled by the Directory, just as he afterwards appointed the
      emigrants and those exiles of the Revolution to high offices under the
      Empire. The time and the men alone differed; the intention in both cases
      was the same.
    
Barrère wrote a letter explaining himself to the First Consul, who, however, ignored it because he couldn't bring himself to support Barrère. This is how Bonaparte welcomed back into the Councils of the Consulate those who had been exiled by the Directory, just as he later appointed emigrants and other exiles from the Revolution to high positions under the Empire. Only the timing and the individuals changed; the intention remained the same in both instances.








 


 




















      CHAPTER XXX
    



      1800.
    
1800.


   Bonaparte and Paul I.—Lord Whitworth—Baron Sprengporten's arrival
   at Paris—Paul's admiration of Bonaparte—Their close connection and
   correspondence—The royal challenge—General Mack—The road to
   Malmaison—Attempts at assassination—Death of Washington—National
   mourning—Ambitious calculation—M. de Fontanel, the skilful orator
   —Fete at the Temple of Mars—Murat's marriage with Caroline
   Bonaparte—Madame Bonaparte's pearls.

   Bonaparte and Paul I.—Lord Whitworth—Baron Sprengporten's arrival  
   in Paris—Paul's admiration for Bonaparte—Their close relationship and  
   correspondence—The royal challenge—General Mack—The road to  
   Malmaison—Attempts at assassination—Death of Washington—National  
   mourning—Ambitious plans—M. de Fontanel, the skilled speaker  
   —Celebration at the Temple of Mars—Murat's marriage to Caroline  
   Bonaparte—Madame Bonaparte's pearls.







      The first communications between Bonaparte and Paul I. commenced a short
      time after his accession to the Consulate. Affairs then began to look a
      little less unfavourable for France; already vague reports from
      Switzerland and the banks of the Rhine indicated a coldness existing
      between the Russians and the Austrians; and at the same time, symptoms of
      a misunderstanding between the Courts of London and St. Petersburg began
      to be perceptible. The First Consul, having in the meantime discovered the
      chivalrous and somewhat eccentric character of Paul I., thought the moment
      a propitious one to attempt breaking the bonds which united Russia and
      England. He was not the man to allow so fine an opportunity to pass, and
      he took advantage of it with his usual sagacity. The English had some time
      before refused to include in a cartel for the exchange of prisoners 7000
      Russians taken in Holland. Bonaparte ordered them all to be armed, and
      clothed in new uniforms appropriate to the corps to which they had
      belonged, and sent them back to Russia, without ransom, without exchange,
      or any condition whatever. This judicious munificence was not thrown away.
      Paul I. showed himself deeply sensible of it, and closely allied as he had
      lately been with England, he now, all at once, declared himself her enemy.
      This triumph of policy delighted the First Consul.
    
The first communications between Bonaparte and Paul I began shortly after he took on the role of Consul. Things started to look a bit more positive for France; vague reports from Switzerland and along the Rhine suggested there was tension between the Russians and the Austrians. At the same time, signs of a rift between the courts of London and St. Petersburg began to emerge. The First Consul, having recognized Paul I's chivalrous and somewhat quirky nature, saw this as a perfect opportunity to loosen the ties between Russia and England. He wasn't one to let such a valuable chance slip by, and he seized it with his usual sharpness. Earlier, the English had refused to include 7,000 Russian soldiers captured in Holland in a prisoner exchange. Bonaparte ordered that they all be armed and dressed in new uniforms fitting for their respective corps, and sent them back to Russia, without ransom or exchange, and without any conditions. This wise generosity paid off. Paul I was deeply appreciative of it, and despite his recent close alliance with England, he suddenly declared himself their enemy. This political triumph thrilled the First Consul.







      Thenceforth the Consul and the Czar became the best friends possible. They
      strove to outdo each other in professions of friendship; and it may be
      believed that Bonaparte did not fail to turn this contest of politeness to
      his own advantage. He so well worked upon the mind of Paul that he
      succeeded in obtaining a direct influence over the Cabinet of St.
      Petersburg.
    
From that point on, the Consul and the Czar became the best of friends. They tried to outdo each other in expressing their friendship, and it’s likely that Bonaparte took full advantage of this competition of politeness. He skillfully influenced Paul’s thinking, managing to gain a direct hold over the Cabinet of St. Petersburg.







      Lord Whitworth, at that time the English ambassador in Russia, was ordered
      to quit the capital without delay, and to retire to Riga, which then
      became the focus of the intrigues of the north which ended in the death of
      Paul. The English ships were seized in all the ports, and, at the pressing
      instance of the Czar, a Prussian army menaced Hanover. Bonaparte lost no
      time, and, profiting by the friendship manifested towards him by the
      inheritor of Catherine's power, determined to make that friendship
      subservient to the execution of the vast plan which he had long conceived:
      he meant to undertake an expedition by land against the English colonies
      in the East Indies.
    
Lord Whitworth, the English ambassador in Russia at the time, was ordered to leave the capital immediately and retire to Riga, which then became the center of the northern intrigues that led to Paul's death. English ships were seized in all the ports, and at the strong insistence of the Czar, a Prussian army threatened Hanover. Bonaparte didn't waste any time; taking advantage of the friendship shown to him by Catherine's successor, he decided to use that friendship to carry out the grand plan he had been envisioning for a long time: he intended to launch a land expedition against the English colonies in the East Indies.







      The arrival of Baron Sprengporten at Paris caused great satisfaction among
      the partisans of the Consular Government, that is to say, almost every one
      in Paris. M. Sprengporten was a native of Swedish Finland. He had been
      appointed by Catherine chamberlain and lieutenant-general of her forces,
      and he was not less in favour with Paul, who treated him in the most
      distinguished manner. He came on an extraordinary mission, being
      ostensibly clothed with the title of plenipotentiary, and at the same time
      appointed confidential Minister to the Consul. Bonaparte was extremely
      satisfied with the ambassador whom Paul had selected, and with the manner
      in which he described the Emperor's gratitude for the generous conduct of
      the First Consul. M. Sprengporten did not conceal the extent of Paul's
      dissatisfaction with his allies. The bad issue, he said, of the war with
      France had already disposed the Czar to connect himself with that power,
      when the return of his troops at once determined him.
    
The arrival of Baron Sprengporten in Paris was a huge relief for supporters of the Consular Government, which meant almost everyone in the city. M. Sprengporten was originally from Swedish Finland. He had been appointed by Catherine as chamberlain and lieutenant-general of her forces, and Paul also held him in high regard, treating him with great respect. He came on a special mission, officially titled plenipotentiary, and was also designated as the confidential Minister to the Consul. Bonaparte was very pleased with the ambassador that Paul had chosen and appreciated how he conveyed the Emperor's gratitude for the First Consul's generous actions. M. Sprengporten didn’t hide the fact that Paul was unhappy with his allies. He mentioned that the poor outcome of the war with France had already led the Czar to consider a partnership with that power, and the return of his troops ultimately solidified that decision.







      We could easily perceive that Paul placed great confidence in M.
      Sprengporten. As he had satisfactorily discharged the mission with which
      he had been entrusted, Paul expressed pleasure at his conduct in several
      friendly and flattering letters, which Sprengporten always allowed us to
      read. No one could be fonder of France than he was, and he ardently
      desired that his first negotiations might lead to a long alliance between
      the Russian and French Governments. The autograph and very frequent
      correspondence between Bonaparte and Paul passed through his hands. I read
      all Paul's letters, which were remarkable for the frankness with which his
      affection for Bonaparte was expressed. His admiration of the First Consul
      was so great that no courtier could have written in a more flattering
      manner.
    
We could easily see that Paul had a lot of trust in M. Sprengporten. Since he had successfully completed the mission he was given, Paul showed his appreciation for his performance in several friendly and flattering letters, which Sprengporten always let us read. No one loved France more than he did, and he was eager for his initial negotiations to result in a long-term alliance between the Russian and French governments. The personal and frequent correspondence between Bonaparte and Paul went through his hands. I read all of Paul's letters, which were notable for how openly he expressed his affection for Bonaparte. His admiration for the First Consul was so strong that no courtier could have written in a more flattering way.







      This admiration was not feigned on the part of the Emperor of Russia: it
      was no less sincere than ardent, and of this he soon gave proofs. The
      violent hatred he had conceived towards the English Government induced him
      to defy to single combat every monarch who would not declare war against
      England and shut his ports against English ships. He inserted a challenge
      to the King of Denmark in the St. Petersburg Court Gazette; but not
      choosing to apply officially to the Senate of Hamburg to order its
      insertion in the 'Correspondant', conducted by M. Stoves, he sent the
      article, through Count Pahlen, to M. Schramm, a Hamburg merchant. The
      Count told M. Schramm that the Emperor would be much pleased to see the
      article of the St. Petersburg Court Gazette copied into the Correspondant;
      and that if it should be inserted, he wished to have a dozen copies of the
      paper printed on vellum, and sent to him by an extraordinary courier. It
      was Paul's intention to send a copy to every sovereign in Europe; but this
      piece of folly, after the manner of Charles XII., led to no further
      results.
    
This admiration wasn’t pretended by the Emperor of Russia; it was just as genuine as it was passionate, and he soon provided evidence of this. The intense hatred he developed toward the English government led him to challenge to single combat any monarch who wouldn’t declare war against England and close their ports to English ships. He placed a challenge to the King of Denmark in the St. Petersburg Court Gazette; however, instead of applying officially to the Senate of Hamburg for it to be published in the 'Correspondant', run by M. Stoves, he sent the article through Count Pahlen to M. Schramm, a Hamburg merchant. The Count told M. Schramm that the Emperor would be very pleased to see the article from the St. Petersburg Court Gazette published in the Correspondant, and that if it was included, he wanted a dozen copies of the paper printed on vellum and sent to him by a special courier. Paul intended to send a copy to every sovereign in Europe; but this act of foolishness, reminiscent of Charles XII, led to no further outcomes.







      Bonaparte never felt greater satisfaction in the whole course of his life
      than he experienced from Paul's enthusiasm for him. The friendship of a
      sovereign seemed to him a step by which he was to become a sovereign
      himself. At the same time the affairs of La Vendée began to assume a
      better aspect, and he hoped soon to effect that pacification in the
      interior which he so ardently desired.
    
Bonaparte never felt more satisfied in his entire life than he did from Paul's admiration for him. The friendship of a ruler felt like a step that would lead him to become a ruler himself. Meanwhile, the situation in La Vendée started to improve, and he hoped to soon achieve the peace in the region that he desired so much.







      It was during the First Consul's residence at the Luxembourg that the
      first report on the civil code was made to the legislative body. It was
      then, also, that the regulations for the management of the Bank of France
      were adopted, and that establishment so necessary to France was founded.
    
It was during the First Consul's time at the Luxembourg that the first report on the civil code was presented to the legislative body. It was also then that the regulations for running the Bank of France were established, leading to the creation of that crucial institution for France.







      There was at this time in Paris a man who has acquired an unfortunate
      celebrity, the most unlucky of modern generals—in a word, General
      Mack. I should not notice that person here were it not for the prophetic
      judgment which Bonaparte then pronounced on him. Mack had been obliged to
      surrender himself at Championnet some time before our landing at Fréjus.
      He was received as a prisoner of war, and the town of Dijon had been
      appointed his place of residence, and there he remained until after the
      18th Brumaire. Bonaparte, now Consul, permitted him to come to Paris, and
      to reside there on his parole. He applied for leave to go to Vienna,
      pledging himself to return again a prisoner to France if the Emperor
      Francis would not consent to exchange him for Generals Pérignon and
      Grouchy, then prisoners in Austria. His request was not granted, but his
      proposition was forwarded to Vienna. The Court of Vienna refused to accede
      to it, not placing perhaps so much importance on the deliverance of Mack
      as he had flattered himself it would.
    
At this time in Paris, there was a man who had gained unfortunate fame, the most unfortunate of modern generals—in short, General Mack. I wouldn't mention him here if it weren't for the prophetic judgment Bonaparte made about him. Mack had been forced to surrender at Championnet some time before we landed at Fréjus. He was taken in as a prisoner of war, and the town of Dijon was assigned as his residence, where he stayed until after the 18th Brumaire. Bonaparte, now Consul, allowed him to come to Paris and live there under parole. He requested permission to go to Vienna, promising to return as a prisoner to France if Emperor Francis wouldn’t agree to exchange him for Generals Pérignon and Grouchy, who were then prisoners in Austria. His request was denied, but his proposal was sent to Vienna. The Court of Vienna refused to accept it, perhaps not valuing Mack’s release as highly as he had hoped.







      Bonaparte speaking to me of him one day said, "Mack is a man of the lowest
      mediocrity I ever saw in my life; he is full of self-sufficiency and
      conceit, and believes himself equal to anything. He has no talent. I
      should like to see him opposed some day to one of our good generals; we
      should then see fine work. He is a boaster, and that is all. He is really
      one of the most silly men existing; and, besides all that, he is unlucky."
      Was not this opinion of Bonaparte, formed on the past, fully verified by
      the future?
    
One day, Bonaparte talked to me about him and said, "Mack is the most mediocre person I’ve ever met; he’s full of self-importance and arrogance, thinking he’s capable of anything. He has no real talent. I’d love to see him go up against one of our good generals; then we’d see some real action. He’s just a show-off, and that’s it. He’s truly one of the silliest men around; and on top of all that, he’s unlucky.” Wasn’t Bonaparte’s opinion, based on the past, completely confirmed by the future?







      It was at Malmaison that Bonaparte thus spoke of General Mack. That place
      was then far from resembling what it afterwards became, and the road to it
      was neither pleasant nor sure. There was not a house on the road; and in
      the evening, during the season when we were there, it was not frequented
      all the way from St. Germain. Those numerous vehicles, which the demands
      of luxury and an increasing population have created, did not then, as now,
      pass along the roads in the environs of Paris. Everywhere the road was
      solitary and dangerous; and I learned with certainty that many schemes
      were laid for carrying off the First Consul during one of his evening
      journeys. They were unsuccessful, and orders were given to enclose the
      quarries, which were too near to the road. On Saturday evening Bonaparte
      left the Luxembourg, and afterwards the Tuileries, to go to Malmaison, and
      I cannot better express the joy he then appeared to experience than by
      comparing it to the delight of a school-boy on getting a holiday.
    
It was at Malmaison that Bonaparte spoke about General Mack. Back then, the place was nothing like what it became later, and the road to it was neither nice nor safe. There were no houses along the way, and in the evenings, during the season we visited, it wasn’t popular all the way from St. Germain. The many vehicles that luxury and a growing population later created didn't travel those roads near Paris like they do now. The roads were empty and dangerous everywhere, and I found out for sure that several plots were made to kidnap the First Consul during his evening trips. They didn’t succeed, and it was ordered that the quarries, which were too close to the road, be enclosed. On Saturday evening, Bonaparte left the Luxembourg, and then the Tuileries, to go to Malmaison, and I can only describe the joy he seemed to feel as being like a schoolboy's excitement on getting a holiday.







      Before removing from the Luxembourg to the Tuileries Bonaparte determined
      to dazzle the eyes of the Parisians by a splendid ceremony. He had
      appointed it to take place on the 'decadi', Pluviôse 20 (9th February
      1800), that is to say, ten days before his final departure from the old
      Directorial palace. These kinds of fetes did not resemble what they
      afterwards became; their attraction consisted in the splendour of military
      dress: and Bonaparte was always sure that whenever he mounted his horse,
      surrounded by a brilliant staff from which he was to be distinguished by
      the simplicity of his costume, his path would be crowded and himself
      greeted with acclamations by the people of Paris. The object of this fete
      was at first only to present to the 'Hôtel des Invalides', then called the
      Temple of Mars, seventy-two flags taken from the Turks in the battle of
      Aboukir and brought from Egypt to Paris; but intelligence of Washington's
      death, who expired on the 14th of December 1799, having reached Bonaparte,
      he eagerly took advantage of that event to produce more effect, and mixed
      the mourning cypress with the laurels he had collected in Egypt.
    
Before moving from Luxembourg to the Tuileries, Bonaparte decided to impress the people of Paris with a grand ceremony. He scheduled it for the 'decadi', Pluviôse 20 (February 9, 1800), which was ten days before his final departure from the old Directorial palace. These kinds of celebrations were quite different from what they later became; their appeal came from the dazzling military uniforms. Bonaparte knew that whenever he rode his horse, surrounded by a distinguished staff that contrasted with his simple outfit, the streets would be filled with crowds and he would be welcomed with cheers by the people of Paris. The main purpose of this event was to present seventy-two flags taken from the Turks in the battle of Aboukir—flags brought from Egypt to Paris—to the 'Hôtel des Invalides', then known as the Temple of Mars. However, after learning about Washington's death on December 14, 1799, Bonaparte seized the opportunity to make a stronger impact, blending mourning cypress with the laurels he had gathered in Egypt.







      Bonaparte did not feel much concerned at the death of Washington, that
      noble founder of rational freedom in the new world; but it afforded him an
      opportunity to mask his ambitious projects under the appearance of a love
      of liberty. In thus rendering honour to the memory of Washington everybody
      would suppose that Bonaparte intended to imitate his example, and that
      their two names would pass in conjunction from mouth to mouth. A clever
      orator might be employed, who, while pronouncing a eulogium on the dead,
      would contrive to bestow some praise on the living; and when the people
      were applauding his love of liberty he would find himself one step nearer
      the throne, on which his eyes were constantly fixed. When the proper time
      arrived, he would not fail to seize the crown; and would still cry, if
      necessary, "Vive la Liberté!" while placing it on his imperial head.
    
Bonaparte didn’t feel much affected by Washington’s death, that great founder of rational freedom in the New World; instead, it gave him a chance to disguise his ambitious plans as a love for liberty. By honoring Washington’s memory, everyone would assume that Bonaparte meant to follow his example, and that their names would be linked together in conversation. A skilled speaker could be used, who while delivering a tribute to the deceased, would manage to give some praise to the living; and when the crowd was applauding his love for liberty, he would find himself one step closer to the throne, which he was always eyeing. When the moment was right, he would not hesitate to claim the crown; and he would still shout, if needed, "Long live Liberty!" while placing it on his imperial head.







      The skilful orator was found. M. de Fontanes
    
The skilled speaker was discovered. M. de Fontanes






 —[L. de Fontanes (1767-1821) became president of the Corps
   Legislatif, Senator, and Grand Master of the University. He was the
   centre of the literary group of the Empire,]— 
 —[L. de Fontanes (1767-1821) became president of the Legislative Body, a senator, and the Grand Master of the University. He was the center of the Empire's literary group,]—  







      was commissioned to pronounce the funeral eulogium on Washington, and the
      flowers of eloquence which he scattered about did not all fall on the hero
      of America.
    
was asked to give the funeral speech for Washington, and the beautiful words he shared didn’t just honor the hero of America.







      Lannes was entrusted by Bonaparte with the presentation of the flags; and
      on the 20th Pluviôse he proceeded, accompanied by strong detachments of
      the cavalry then in Paris, to the council-hall of the Invalides, where he
      was met by the Minister of War, who received the colours. All the
      Ministers, the councillors of State, and generals were summoned to the
      presentation. Lannes pronounced a discourse, to which Berthier replied,
      and M. de Fontanes added his well-managed eloquence to the plain military
      oratory of the two generals. In the interior of this military temple a
      statue of Mars sleeping had been placed, and from the pillars and roof
      were suspended the trophies of Denain, Fontenoy, and the campaign of
      Italy, which would still have decorated that edifice had not the demon of
      conquest possessed Bonaparte. Two Invalides, each said to be a hundred
      years old, stood beside the Minister of War; and the bust of the
      emancipator of America was placed under the trophy composed of the flags
      of Aboukir. In a word, recourse was had to every sort of charlatanism
      usual on such occasions. In the evening there was a numerous assembly at
      the Luxembourg, and Bonaparte took much credit to himself for the effect
      produced on this remarkable day. He had only to wait ten days for his
      removal to the Tuileries, and precisely on that day the national mourning
      for Washington was to cease, for which a general mourning for freedom
      might well have been substituted.
    
Lannes was tasked by Bonaparte with presenting the flags, and on the 20th of Pluviôse, he headed to the council hall of the Invalides, accompanied by large detachments of cavalry from Paris. There, he was greeted by the Minister of War, who received the colors. All the ministers, state councillors, and generals were called to the presentation. Lannes gave a speech, to which Berthier responded, and M. de Fontanes added his well-crafted eloquence to the straightforward military talk of the two generals. Inside this military monument, a statue of a sleeping Mars was placed, and from the pillars and ceiling hung the trophies from Denain, Fontenoy, and the campaign in Italy, which would still have adorned that building had it not been for Bonaparte's relentless drive for conquest. Two Invalides, each claimed to be a hundred years old, stood beside the Minister of War, and the bust of America's liberator was positioned under the trophy made up of the flags from Aboukir. In short, every sort of showmanship typical of such events was on display. In the evening, there was a large gathering at the Luxembourg, and Bonaparte took much pride in the impact made that remarkable day. He only had to wait ten days for his move to the Tuileries, and on that day, the national mourning for Washington was to end—something that could easily have been replaced by a general mourning for freedom.







      I have said very little about Murat in the course of these Memoirs except
      mentioning the brilliant part he performed in several battles. Having now
      arrived at the period of his marriage with one of Napoleon's sisters I
      take the opportunity of returning to the interesting events which preceded
      that alliance.
    
I haven't said much about Murat in these Memoirs, aside from noting the impressive role he played in several battles. Now that we've reached the time of his marriage to one of Napoleon's sisters, I want to take the chance to revisit the fascinating events that led up to that union.







      His fine and well-proportioned form, his great physical strength and
      somewhat refined elegance of manner,—the fire of his eye, and his
      fierce courage in battle, gave to Murat rather the character of one of
      those 'preux chevaliers' so well described by Ariosto and Taro, than that
      a Republican soldier. The nobleness of his look soon made the lowness of
      his birth be forgotten. He was affable, polished, gallant; and in the
      field of battle twenty men headed by Murat were worth a whole regiment.
      Once only he showed himself under the influence of fear, and the reader
      shall see in what circumstance it was that he ceased to be himself.
    
His impressive and well-built physique, his immense strength, and a somewhat refined elegance in his demeanor—the intensity in his eyes and his fierce bravery in battle—gave Murat more the feel of one of those 'noble knights' described by Ariosto and Tasso than that of a Republican soldier. The nobility of his appearance soon made people forget his humble origins. He was friendly, sophisticated, and chivalrous; on the battlefield, twenty men led by Murat were worth an entire regiment. He only showed fear once, and the reader will see in what situation he stopped being himself.






 —[Marshal Lannes, so brave and brilliant in war and so well able to
   appreciate courage, one day sharply rebuked a colonel for having
   punished a young officer just arrived from school at Fontainebleau
   because he gave evidence of fear in his first engagement. "Know,
   colonel," said he, "none but a poltroon (the term was even more
   strong) will boast that he never was afraid."—Bourrienne.]— 
—[Marshal Lannes, who was so brave and brilliant in battle and so capable of recognizing true courage, once sharply criticized a colonel for punishing a young officer who had just come from school at Fontainebleau for showing fear in his first fight. "Listen, colonel," he said, "only a coward (the term was even more intense) would claim he has never been afraid."—Bourrienne.]—







      When Bonaparte in his first Italian campaign had forced Wurmser to retreat
      into Mantua with 28,000 men, he directed Miollis, with only 4000 men, to
      oppose any sortie that might be attempted by the Austrian general. In one
      of these sorties Murat, who was at the head of a very weak detachment, was
      ordered to charge Wurmser. He was afraid, neglected to execute the order,
      and in a moment of confusion said that he was wounded. Murat immediately
      fell into disgrace with the General-in-Chief, whose 'aide de camp' he was.
    
When Bonaparte, during his first Italian campaign, drove Wurmser to retreat into Mantua with 28,000 troops, he instructed Miollis, who had only 4,000 men, to counter any attacks that Austrian general might attempt. During one of these attacks, Murat, leading a very small detachment, was ordered to charge Wurmser. He got scared, failed to carry out the order, and in a moment of panic claimed he was injured. As a result, Murat quickly fell out of favor with the General-in-Chief, whom he served as aide-de-camp.







      Murat had been previously sent to Paris to present to the Directory the
      first colours taken by the French army of Italy in the actions of Dego and
      Mondovi, and it was on this occasion that he got acquainted with Madame
      Tallien and the wife of his General. But he already knew the beautiful
      Caroline Bonaparte, whom he had seen at Rome in the residence of her
      brother Joseph, who was then discharging the functions of ambassador of
      the Republic. It appears that Caroline was not even indifferent to him,
      and that he was the successful rival of the Princess Santa Croce's son,
      who eagerly sought the honour of her hand. Madame Tallien and Madame
      Bonaparte received with great kindness the first 'aide de camp', and as
      they possessed much influence with the Directory, they solicited, and
      easily obtained for him, the rank of brigadier-general. It was somewhat
      remarkable at that time Murat, notwithstanding his newly-acquired rank, to
      remain Bonaparte's 'aide de camp', the regulations not allowing a
      general-in-chief an 'aide de camp' of higher rank than chief of brigade,
      which was equal to that of colonel. This insignificant act was, therefore,
      rather a hasty anticipation of the prerogatives everywhere reserved to
      princes and kings.
    
Murat had previously been sent to Paris to present to the Directory the initial colors captured by the French army in Italy during the battles of Dego and Mondovi. It was during this time that he met Madame Tallien and his General's wife. However, he was already familiar with the beautiful Caroline Bonaparte, whom he had seen in Rome at her brother Joseph's residence, where he was serving as the ambassador of the Republic. It seems that Caroline was not completely indifferent toward him and that he was the fortunate rival of the Princess Santa Croce's son, who was eager to win her hand. Madame Tallien and Madame Bonaparte welcomed the first aide de camp warmly, and since they had significant influence with the Directory, they requested and easily secured for him the rank of brigadier-general. It was somewhat notable at that time that Murat, despite his new rank, continued to serve as Bonaparte's aide de camp, as regulations did not permit a general-in-chief to have an aide de camp of a higher rank than chief of brigade, which was equivalent to colonel. This seemingly minor act was, therefore, more of a hasty anticipation of privileges typically reserved for princes and kings.







      It was after having discharged this commission that Murat, on his return
      to Italy, fell into disfavour with the General-in Chief. He indeed looked
      upon him with a sort of hostile feeling, and placed him in Reille's
      division, and afterwards Baraguey d'Hilliers'; consequently, when we went
      to Paris, after the treaty of Campo-Formio, Murat was not of the party.
      But as the ladies, with whom he was a great favourite, were not devoid of
      influence with the Minister of War, Murat was, by their interest, attached
      to the engineer corps in the expedition to Egypt. On board the Orient he
      remained in the most complete disgrace. Bonaparte did not address a word
      to him during the passage; and in Egypt the General-in-Chief always
      treated him with coldness, and often sent him from the headquarters on
      disagreeable services. However, the General-in-Chief having opposed him to
      Mourad Bey, Murat performed such prodigies of valour in every perilous
      encounter that he effaced the transitory stain which a momentary
      hesitation under the walls of Mantua had left on his character. Finally,
      Murat so powerfully contributed to the success of the day at Aboukir that
      Bonaparte, glad to be able to carry another laurel plucked in Egypt to
      France, forgot the fault which had made so unfavourable an impression, and
      was inclined to efface from his memory other things that he had heard to
      the disadvantage of Murat; for I have good reasons for believing, though
      Bonaparte never told me so, that Murat's name, as well as that of Charles,
      escaped from the lips of Junot when he made his indiscreet communication
      to Bonaparte at the walls of Messoudiah. The charge of grenadiers,
      commanded by Murat on the 19th Brumaire in the hall of the Five Hundred,
      dissipated all the remaining traces of dislike; and in those moments when
      Bonaparte's political views subdued every other sentiment of his mind, the
      rival of the Prince Santa Croce received the command of the Consular
      Guard.
    
After completing this mission, Murat fell out of favor with the General-in-Chief on his way back to Italy. The General had a somewhat hostile attitude toward him and assigned him to Reille's division, and later to Baraguey d'Hilliers'. As a result, when we went to Paris after the treaty of Campo-Formio, Murat was not part of the group. However, since the ladies, who were fond of him, had some sway with the Minister of War, they helped get Murat attached to the engineering corps for the expedition to Egypt. Onboard the Orient, he remained completely out of favor. Bonaparte didn’t speak to him during the journey; and once in Egypt, the General-in-Chief continued to treat him coldly and often sent him on unpleasant tasks away from headquarters. Nevertheless, when the General-in-Chief pitted him against Mourad Bey, Murat showed such incredible bravery in every dangerous encounter that he wiped away the temporary stain left on his reputation from a brief hesitation at the walls of Mantua. Ultimately, Murat played a crucial role in the success at Aboukir, which led Bonaparte to overlook the earlier fault that had created such a negative impression and to ignore other criticisms he had heard about Murat. I have good reasons to believe, although Bonaparte never told me, that Murat’s name, along with Charles's, came up during Junot's indiscreet remarks to Bonaparte at Messoudiah. The charge of grenadiers led by Murat on the 19th of Brumaire in the hall of the Five Hundred erased any remaining dislike. In those moments when Bonaparte's political ambitions overshadowed all other feelings, the rival of Prince Santa Croce was entrusted with the command of the Consular Guard.






 —[Joachim Murat (1771-1616), the son of an innkeeper, aide de camp
   to Napoleon in Italy, etc.; Marshal, 1804; Prince in 1806; Grand
   Admiral; Grand Duc de Berg et de Clesves, 1808; King of Naples,
   1808. Shot by Bourbons 13th October 1815. Married Caroline
   Bonaparte (third sister of Napoleon) 20th January 1800.]— 
—[Joachim Murat (1771-1616), the son of an innkeeper, aide de camp to Napoleon in Italy, etc.; Marshal, 1804; Prince in 1806; Grand Admiral; Grand Duke of Berg and Count of Clesves, 1808; King of Naples, 1808. Executed by the Bourbons on October 13, 1815. Married Caroline Bonaparte (Napoleon's third sister) on January 20, 1800.]—







      It may reasonably be supposed that Madame Bonaparte, in endeavouring to
      win the friendship of Murat by aiding his promotion, had in view to gain
      one partisan more to oppose to the family and brothers of Bonaparte; and
      of this kind of support she had much need. Their jealous hatred was
      displayed on every occasion; and the amiable Josephine, whose only fault
      was being too much of the woman, was continually tormented by sad
      presentiments. Carried away by the easiness of her character, she did not
      perceive that the coquetry which enlisted for her so many defenders also
      supplied her implacable enemies with weapons to use against her.
    
It’s reasonable to think that Madame Bonaparte, in trying to win Murat's friendship by helping him advance in his career, aimed to gain another ally against the Bonaparte family and his brothers; she definitely needed that kind of support. Their jealous animosity showed itself at every turn, and the lovely Josephine, whose only flaw was being too much of a woman, was constantly troubled by gloomy forebodings. Caught up in her charming nature, she failed to see that the flirtation that attracted so many supporters also gave her relentless enemies ammunition to attack her.







      In this state of things Josephine, who was well convinced that she had
      attached Murat to herself by the bonds of friendship and gratitude, and
      ardently desired to see him united to Bonaparte by a family connection,
      favoured with all her influence his marriage with Caroline. She was not
      ignorant that a close intimacy had already sprung up at Milan between
      Caroline and Murat, and she was the first to propose a marriage. Murat
      hesitated, and went to consult M. Collot, who was a good adviser in all
      things, and whose intimacy with Bonaparte had initiated him into all the
      secrets of the family. M. Collot advised Murat to lose no time, but to go
      to the First Consul and formally demand the hand of his sister. Murat
      followed his advice. Did he do well? It was to this step that he owed the
      throne of Naples. If he had abstained he would not have been shot at
      Pizzo. 'Sed ipsi Dei fata rumpere non possunt!'
    
In this situation, Josephine, who strongly believed that she had secured Murat’s loyalty through friendship and gratitude, and who eagerly wanted to see him connected to Bonaparte through family, used all her influence to support his marriage to Caroline. She was aware that a close relationship had already developed between Caroline and Murat in Milan, and she was the first to suggest the marriage. Murat hesitated and went to consult M. Collot, who was a wise advisor in all matters and had a close relationship with Bonaparte that made him privy to all family secrets. M. Collot urged Murat to act quickly and approach the First Consul to formally ask for his sister’s hand. Murat took his advice. Was this the right move? This decision led him to the throne of Naples. If he hadn’t acted, he wouldn’t have faced execution in Pizzo. 'Sed ipsi Dei fata rumpere non possunt!'







      However that might be, Bonaparte received, more in the manner of a
      sovereign than of a brother in arms, the proposal of Murat. He heard him
      with unmoved gravity, said that he would consider the matter, but gave no
      positive answer.
    
However that may be, Bonaparte received Murat's proposal more like a ruler than a comrade. He listened with steady seriousness, said he would think about it, but didn’t give a definite answer.







      This affair was, as may be supposed, the subject of conversation in the
      evening in the salon of the Luxembourg. Madame Bonaparte employed all her
      powers of persuasion to obtain the First Consul's consent, and her efforts
      were seconded by Hortense, Eugène, and myself, "Murat," said he, among
      other things, "Murat is an innkeeper's son. In the elevated rank where
      glory and fortune have placed me, I never can mix his blood with mine!
      Besides, there is no hurry: I shall see by and by." We forcibly described
      to him the reciprocal affection of the two young people, and did not fail
      to bring to his observation Murat's devoted attachment to his person, his
      splendid courage and noble conduct in Egypt. "Yes," said he, with warmth,
      "I agree with you; Murat was superb at Aboukir." We did not allow so
      favourable a moment to pass by. We redoubled our entreaties, and at last
      he consented. When we were together in his cabinet in the evening, "Well,
      Bourrienne," said he to me, "you ought to be satisfied, and so am I, too,
      everything considered. Murat is suited to my sister, and then no one can
      say that I am proud, or seek grand alliances. If I had given my sister to
      a noble, all your Jacobins would have raised a cry of counter-revolution.
      Besides, I am very glad that my wife is interested in this marriage, and
      you may easily suppose the cause. Since it is determined on, I will hasten
      it forward; we have no time to lose. If I go to Italy I will take Murat
      with me. I must strike a decisive blow there. Adieu."
    
This situation was, as you might expect, a hot topic in the evening at the Luxembourg salon. Madame Bonaparte used all her persuasive skills to get the First Consul’s approval, and her efforts were supported by Hortense, Eugène, and me. "Murat," he said among other things, "is the son of an innkeeper. At my current elevated status, where glory and fortune have placed me, I can never mix his blood with mine! Besides, there’s no rush: I will see about it later." We passionately described the mutual feelings of the two young people and made sure to highlight Murat's loyalty to him, his impressive bravery, and noble actions in Egypt. "Yes," he said enthusiastically, "I agree with you; Murat was magnificent at Aboukir." We didn’t let this favorable moment slip away. We increased our pleas, and finally, he agreed. When we were alone in his office that evening, he said to me, "Well, Bourrienne, you should be pleased, and I am too, all things considered. Murat is a good match for my sister, and now no one can say that I am arrogant or looking for prestigious alliances. If I had married her off to a noble, all your Jacobins would have cried out against a counter-revolution. Besides, I’m very happy that my wife cares about this marriage, and you can guess why. Now that it’s decided, I will push it forward; we don’t have time to waste. If I go to Italy, I’ll take Murat with me. I need to deliver a decisive blow there. Goodbye."







      When I entered the First Consul's chamber at seven o'clock the next day he
      appeared even more satisfied than on the preceding evening with the
      resolution he had taken. I easily perceived that in spite of all his
      cunning, he had failed to discover the real motive which had induced
      Josephine to take so lively an interest respecting Murat's marriage with
      Caroline. Still Bonaparte's satisfaction plainly showed that his wife's
      eagerness for the marriage had removed all doubt in his mind of the
      falsity of the calumnious reports which had prevailed respecting her
      intimacy with Murat.
    
When I walked into the First Consul's office at seven o'clock the next day, he seemed even more pleased than he had the night before with the decision he made. I quickly noticed that despite all his cleverness, he hadn't figured out the real reason why Josephine was so invested in Murat marrying Caroline. Still, Bonaparte's happiness clearly indicated that his wife's enthusiasm for the marriage had put to rest any doubts he had about the false rumors concerning her relationship with Murat.







      The marriage of Murat and Caroline was celebrated at the Luxembourg, but
      with great modesty. The First Consul did not yet think that his family
      affairs were affairs of state. But previously to the celebration a little
      comedy was enacted in which I was obliged to take a part, and I will
      relate how.
    
The marriage of Murat and Caroline was celebrated at the Luxembourg, but in a very low-key way. The First Consul didn’t think of his family matters as state matters yet. However, before the celebration, a little comedy unfolded in which I had to play a role, and I will explain how it went.







      At the time of the marriage of Murat Bonaparte had not much money, and
      therefore only gave his sister a dowry of 30,000 francs. Still, thinking
      it necessary to make her a marriage present, and not possessing the means
      to purchase a suitable one, he took a diamond necklace which belonged to
      his wife and gave it to the bride. Josephine was not at all pleased with
      this robbery, and taxed her wits to discover some means of replacing her
      necklace.
    
At the time of the marriage, Murat Bonaparte didn't have much money, so he only gave his sister a dowry of 30,000 francs. Still, feeling it was important to give her a wedding gift and lacking the funds to buy something appropriate, he took a diamond necklace that belonged to his wife and gave it to the bride. Josephine was not at all happy about this theft and tried to come up with a way to replace her necklace.







      Josephine was aware that the celebrated jeweler Foncier possessed a
      magnificent collection of fine pearls which had belonged, as he said, to
      the late Queen, Marie Antoinette. Having ordered them to be brought to her
      to examine them, she thought there were sufficient to make a very fine
      necklace. But to make the purchase 250,000 francs were required, and how
      to get them was the difficulty. Madame Bonaparte had recourse to Berthier,
      who was then Minister of War. Berthier, after biting his nails according
      to his usual habit, set about the liquidation of the debts due for the
      hospital service in Italy with as much speed as possible; and as in those
      days the contractors whose claims were admitted overflowed with gratitude
      towards their patrons, through whom they obtained payment, the pearls soon
      passed from Foncier's shop to the casket of Madame Bonaparte.
    
Josephine knew that the famous jeweler Foncier had a stunning collection of fine pearls that he claimed had belonged to the late Queen, Marie Antoinette. After asking him to bring them for her to look at, she believed there were enough to create a beautiful necklace. However, making the purchase required 250,000 francs, and figuring out how to come up with that amount was the challenge. Madame Bonaparte turned to Berthier, who was then Minister of War. Berthier, after nervously biting his nails—as was his habit—quickly worked on settling the debts owed for the hospital services in Italy. Since the contractors whose claims were approved had a lot of gratitude towards their patrons, through whom they received payment, the pearls soon moved from Foncier's shop to Madame Bonaparte's casket.







      The pearls being thus obtained, there was still another difficulty, which
      Madame Bonaparte did not at first think of. How was she to wear a necklace
      purchased without her husband's knowledge? Indeed it was the more
      difficult for her to do so as the First Consul knew very well that his
      wife had no money, and being, if I may be allowed the expression,
      something of the busybody, he knew, or believed he knew, all Josephine's
      jewels. The pearls were therefore condemned to remain more than a
      fortnight in Madame Bonaparte's casket without her daring to use them.
      What a punishment for a woman! At length her vanity overcame her prudence,
      and being unable to conceal the jewels any longer, she one day said to me,
      "Bourrienne, there is to be a large party here to-morrow, and I absolutely
      must wear my pearls. But you know he will grumble if he notices them. I
      beg, Bourrienne, that you will keep near me. If he asks me where I got my
      pearls I must tell him, without hesitation, that I have had them a long
      time."
    
Once she got the pearls, Madame Bonaparte faced another problem she hadn’t considered at first. How was she supposed to wear a necklace she bought without her husband knowing? It was especially tricky because the First Consul was well aware that his wife didn’t have any money, and being somewhat of a meddler, he knew, or thought he knew, all of Josephine's jewelry. As a result, the pearls ended up sitting in Madame Bonaparte's casket for more than two weeks without her daring to use them. What a punishment for a woman! Finally, her vanity got the better of her caution, and unable to hide the jewels any longer, she said to me one day, "Bourrienne, there’s a big party here tomorrow, and I have to wear my pearls. But you know he’ll complain if he sees them. Please, Bourrienne, stay close to me. If he asks where I got my pearls, I need to tell him right away that I've had them for a long time."







      Everything happened as Josephine feared and hoped.
    
Everything happened as Josephine feared and wished.







      Bonaparte, on seeing the pearls, did not fail to say to Madame, "What is
      it you have got there? How fine you are to-day! Where did you get these
      pearls? I think I never saw them before."—"Oh! 'mon Dieu'! you have
      seen them a dozen times! It is the necklace which the Cisalpine Republic
      gave me, and which I now wear in my hair."—"But I think—"—"Stay:
      ask Bourrienne, he will tell you."—"Well, Bourrienne, what do you
      say to it? Do you recollect the necklace?"—"Yes, General, I
      recollect very well seeing it before." This was not untrue, for Madame
      Bonaparte had previously shown me the pearls. Besides, she had received a
      pearl necklace from the Cisalpine Republic, but of incomparably less value
      than that purchased from Foncier. Josephine performed her part with
      charming dexterity, and I did not act amiss the character of accomplice
      assigned me in this little comedy. Bonaparte had no suspicions. When I saw
      the easy confidence with which Madame Bonaparte got through this scene, I
      could not help recollecting Suzanne's reflection on the readiness with
      which well-bred ladies can tell falsehoods without seeming to do so.
    
Bonaparte, upon noticing the pearls, quickly remarked to Madame, "What do you have there? You look wonderful today! Where did those pearls come from? I don’t think I’ve seen them before." — "Oh! 'mon Dieu'! You've seen them a dozen times! It's the necklace the Cisalpine Republic gave me, and I'm wearing it in my hair." — "But I think—" — "Wait: ask Bourrienne, he’ll tell you." — "Well, Bourrienne, what do you think? Do you remember the necklace?" — "Yes, General, I remember seeing it before." This wasn’t untrue, as Madame Bonaparte had shown me the pearls before. Also, she had received a pearl necklace from the Cisalpine Republic, but it was worth much less than the one from Foncier. Josephine played her role with charming skill, and I didn't do too badly as her accomplice in this little act. Bonaparte had no suspicions. Watching Madame Bonaparte handle this scene with such ease made me recall Suzanne's insight about how effortlessly well-bred ladies can lie without it appearing so.








 


 




















      CHAPTER XXXI.
    



      1800.
    
1800.


   Police on police—False information—Dexterity of Fouché—Police
   agents deceived—Money ill applied—Inutility of political police—
   Bonaparte's opinion—General considerations—My appointment to the
   Prefecture of police.

   Police on police—False information—Skill of Fouché—Police agents misled—Misuse of funds—Ineffectiveness of political police—Bonaparte's views—Overall thoughts—My appointment as head of the police department.







      Before taking up his quarters in the Tuileries the First Consul organised
      his secret police, which was intended, at the same time, to be the rival
      or check upon Fouché's police. Duroc and Moncey were at first the Director
      of this police; afterwards Davoust and Junot. Madame Bonaparte called this
      business a vile system of espionage. My remarks on the inutility of the
      measure were made in vain. Bonaparte had the weakness at once to fear
      Fouché and to think him necessary. Fouché, whose talents at this trade are
      too well known to need my approbation, soon discovered this secret
      institution, and the names of all the subaltern agents employed by the
      chief agents. It is difficult to form an idea of the nonsense, absurdity,
      and falsehood contained in the bulletins drawn up by the noble and ignoble
      agents of the police. I do not mean to enter into details on this
      nauseating subject; and I shall only trespass on the reader's patience by
      relating, though it be in anticipation, one fact which concerns myself,
      and which will prove that spies and their wretched reports cannot be too
      much distrusted.
    
Before moving into the Tuileries, the First Consul set up his secret police, which was meant to rival or balance Fouché's police. Duroc and Moncey were initially in charge of this police, followed by Davoust and Junot. Madame Bonaparte called this effort a terrible system of spying. My comments on the uselessness of the measure were ignored. Bonaparte had the weakness to both fear Fouché and see him as essential. Fouché, whose skills in this area are too well known to need my approval, quickly uncovered this secret organization and the names of all the lower-level agents hired by the main agents. It's hard to imagine the nonsense, absurdity, and lies in the reports created by both the noble and less noble agents of the police. I don’t want to delve into details about this unpleasant topic; I’ll only ask the reader to bear with me as I share one personal experience, which proves that spies and their miserable reports should never be trusted too much.







      During the second year of the Consulate we were established at Malmaison.
      Junot had a very large sum at his disposal for the secret police of the
      capital. He gave 3000 francs of it to a wretched manufacturer of
      bulletins; the remainder was expended on the police of his stable and his
      table. In reading one of these daily bulletins I saw the following lines:
    
During the second year of the Consulate, we were settled at Malmaison. Junot had a significant amount of money available for the secret police of the capital. He gave 3000 francs of it to a miserable bulletin manufacturer; the rest was spent on the police for his stable and his meals. While reading one of these daily bulletins, I came across the following lines:






   "M. de Bourrienne went last night to Paris. He entered an hotel of
   the Faubourg St. Germain, Rue de Varenne, and there, in the course
   of a very animated discussion, he gave it to be understood that the
   First Consul wished to make himself King."

   "Mr. de Bourrienne went to Paris last night. He checked into a hotel in the Faubourg St. Germain on Rue de Varenne, and during a lively discussion there, he hinted that the First Consul wanted to make himself King."







      As it happens, I never had opened my mouth, either respecting what
      Bonaparte had said to me before we went to Egypt or respecting his other
      frequent conversations with me of the same nature, during this period of
      his Consulship. I may here observe, too, that I never quitted, nor ever
      could quit Malmaison for a moment. At any time, by night or day, I was
      subject to be called for by the First Consul, and, as very often was the
      case, it so happened that on the night in question he had dictated to me
      notes and instructions until three o'clock in the morning.
    
As it turns out, I never spoke up about what Bonaparte told me before we went to Egypt or his other frequent conversations with me during his time as Consul. I should also mention that I never left Malmaison, nor could I. At any time, day or night, I could be summoned by the First Consul, and, as often happened, on that particular night, he had dictated notes and instructions to me until three in the morning.







      Junot came every day to Malmaison at eleven o'clock in the morning. I
      called him that day into my cabinet, when I happened to be alone. "Have
      you not read your bulletin?" said I, "Yes, I have."—"Nay, that is
      impossible."—"Why?"—"Because, if you had, you would have
      suppressed an absurd story which relates to me."—"Ah!" he replied,
      "I am sorry on your account, but I can depend on my agent, and I will not
      alter a word of his report." I then told him all that had taken place on
      that night; but he was obstinate, and went away unconvinced.
    
Junot came to Malmaison every day at eleven in the morning. I called him into my office that day when I was alone. "Haven't you read your bulletin?" I asked. "Yes, I have."—"No, that can’t be true."—"Why not?"—"Because if you had, you would have deleted an outrageous story about me."—"Oh!" he said, "I feel bad for you, but I trust my agent, and I won’t change a single word of his report." I then told him everything that had happened that night, but he was stubborn and left unconvinced.







      Every morning I placed all the papers which the First Consul had to read
      on his table, and among the first was Junot's report. The First Consul
      entered and read it; on coming to the passage concerning me he began to
      smile.
    
Every morning, I put all the papers that the First Consul needed to read on his desk, and one of the first was Junot's report. The First Consul came in and read it; when he got to the part about me, he started to smile.







      "Have you read this bulletin?"—"Yes, General."—"What an ass
      that Junot is! It is a long time since I have known that."—"How he
      allows himself to be entrapped! Is he still here?"—"I believe so. I
      have just seen him, and made observations to him, all in good part, but he
      would hear nothing."—"Tell him to come here." When Junot appeared
      Bonaparte began—"Imbecile that you are! how could you send me such
      reports as these? Do you not read them? How shall I be sure that you will
      not compromise other persons equally unjustly? I want positive facts, not
      inventions. It is some time since your agent displeased me; dismiss him
      directly." Junot wanted to justify himself, but Bonaparte cut him short—"Enough!—It
      is settled!"
    
"Have you read this bulletin?"—"Yes, General."—"What an idiot that Junot is! I've known that for a long time."—"How he lets himself get trapped! Is he still around?"—"I think so. I've just seen him and spoke to him, all in a friendly way, but he wouldn't listen."—"Tell him to come here." When Junot showed up, Bonaparte started—"You fool! How could you send me reports like these? Don't you even read them? How can I trust you won't unjustly compromise others too? I want solid facts, not made-up stories. It's been a while since your agent upset me; dismiss him right away." Junot tried to defend himself, but Bonaparte interrupted—"That's enough! It's settled!"







      I related what had passed to Fouché, who told me that, wishing to amuse
      himself at Junot's expense, whose police agents only picked up what they
      heard related in coffeehouses, gaming-houses, and the Bourse, he had given
      currency to this absurd story, which Junot had credited and reported, as
      he did many other foolish tales. Fouché often caught the police of the
      Palace in the snares he laid for them, and thus increased his own credit.
    
I told Fouché what had happened, and he explained that, wanting to have some fun at Junot's expense—who only got information from what he heard in coffeehouses, gambling spots, and the stock exchange—he had spread this ridiculous story, which Junot believed and reported like many other silly rumors. Fouché often trapped the Palace police in the tricks he set for them, which helped boost his own reputation.







      This circumstance, and others of the same nature, induced the First Consul
      to attach less importance than at first he had to his secret police, which
      seldom reported anything but false and silly stories. That wretched
      police! During the time I was with him it embittered his life, and often
      exasperated him against his wife, his relations, and friends.
    
This situation, along with other similar ones, led the First Consul to place less importance on his secret police than he initially had. They rarely reported anything true, instead sharing only false and ridiculous tales. That miserable police! While I was with him, they made his life miserable and often frustrated him with his wife, family, and friends.






 —[Bourrienne, it must be remembered, was a sufferer from the
   vigilance of this police.]— 
—[Bourrienne, it’s important to note, was a victim of this police surveillance.]—







      Rapp, who was as frank as he was brave, tells us in his Memoirs (p. 233)
      that when Napoleon, during his retreat from Moscow, while before
      Smolenski, heard of the attempt of Mallet, he could not get over the
      adventure of the Police Minister, Savary, and the Prefect of Police,
      Pasquier. "Napoleon," says Rapp, "was not surprised that these wretches
      (he means the agents of the police) who crowd the salons and the taverns,
      who insinuate themselves everywhere and obstruct everything, should not
      have found out the plot, but he could not understand the weakness of the
      Duc de Rovigo. The very police which professed to divine everything had
      let themselves be taken by surprise." The police possessed no foresight or
      faculty of prevention. Every silly thing that transpired was reported
      either from malice or stupidity. What was heard was misunderstood or
      distorted in the recital, so that the only result of the plan was mischief
      and confusion.
    
Rapp, who was as straightforward as he was courageous, shares in his Memoirs (p. 233) that when Napoleon, during his retreat from Moscow, was near Smolensk and heard about Mallet's attempt, he couldn't get over the actions of the Police Minister, Savary, and the Prefect of Police, Pasquier. "Napoleon," says Rapp, "was not shocked that these scoundrels (referring to the police agents) who fill the salons and bars, who worm their way into everything and obstruct everything, didn’t uncover the plot, but he couldn’t grasp the weakness of the Duc de Rovigo. The very police that claimed to know everything had been caught off guard." The police had no foresight or ability to prevent things. Every ridiculous incident was reported either out of spite or ignorance. What was heard was often misunderstood or twisted in the telling, leading to nothing but trouble and chaos.







      The police as a political engine is a dangerous thing. It foments and
      encourages more false conspiracies than it discovers or defeats real ones.
      Napoleon has related "that M. de la Rochefoucauld formed at Paris a
      conspiracy in favour of the King, then at Mittau, the first act of which
      was to be the death of the Chief of the Government. The plot being
      discovered, a trusty person belonging to the police was ordered to join it
      and become one of the most active agents. He brought letters of
      recommendation from an old gentleman in Lorraine who had held a
      distinguished rank in the army of Condé." After this, what more can be
      wanted? A hundred examples could not better show the vileness of such a
      system. Napoleon, when fallen, himself thus disclosed the scandalous means
      employed by his Government.
    
The police as a tool of politics is a dangerous thing. It creates and promotes more false conspiracies than it uncovers or stops real ones. Napoleon said that "M. de la Rochefoucauld organized a conspiracy in Paris in support of the King, who was then in Mittau, the first act being the assassination of the Chief of the Government. Once the plot was discovered, a trusted member of the police was instructed to infiltrate it and become one of its most active participants. He carried letters of recommendation from an elderly gentleman in Lorraine who had held a prominent position in Condé's army." After this, what more could be needed? A hundred examples couldn’t better illustrate the corruption of such a system. When Napoleon fell, he himself revealed the scandalous tactics used by his Government.







      Napoleon on one occasion, in the Isle of Elba, said to an officer who was
      conversing with him about France, "You believe, then, that the police
      agents foresee everything and know everything? They invent more than they
      discover. Mine, I believe, was better than that they have got now, and yet
      it was often only by mere chance, the imprudence of the parties
      implicated, or the treachery of some of them, that something was
      discovered after a week or fortnight's exertion." Napoleon, in directing
      this officer to transmit letters to him under the cover of a commercial
      correspondence, to quiet his apprehensions that the correspondence might
      be discovered, said, "Do you think, then, that all letters are opened at
      the post office? They would never be able to do so. I have often
      endeavoured to discover what the correspondence was that passed under
      mercantile forms, but I never succeeded. The post office, like the police,
      catches only fools."
    
Napoleon once remarked, while on the Isle of Elba, to an officer talking to him about France, "So you think the police can predict everything and know all? They make up more stories than they uncover. I believe mine was better than what they have now, and yet often it was just by chance, the carelessness of those involved, or the betrayal by some of them that something got revealed after a week or two of effort." While advising this officer to send letters to him disguised as commercial correspondence to ease his worries about them being discovered, he said, "Do you really think all letters get opened at the post office? There's no way they could manage that. I've often tried to figure out what correspondence was passing under business labels, but I never succeeded. The post office, like the police, only catches the clueless."







      Since I am on the subject of political police, that leprosy of modern
      society, perhaps I may be allowed to overstep the order of time, and
      advert to its state even in the present day.
    
Since I'm talking about the political police, that plague of modern society, maybe I can go out of order and mention its situation even today.







      The Minister of Police, to give his prince a favourable idea of his
      activity, contrives great conspiracies, which he is pretty sure to
      discover in time, because he is their originator. The inferior agents, to
      find favour in the eyes of the Minister, contrive small plots. It would be
      difficult to mention a conspiracy which has been discovered, except when
      the police agents took part in it, or were its promoters. It is difficult
      to conceive how those agents can feed a little intrigue, the result at
      first, perhaps, of some petty ill-humour and discontent which, thanks to
      their skill, soon becomes a great affair. How many conspiracies have
      escaped the boasted activity and vigilance of the police when none of its
      agents were parties. I may instance Babeuf's conspiracy, the attempt at
      the camp at Grenelle, the 18th Brumaire, the infernal machine, Mallet, the
      20th of March, the affair of Grenoble, and many others.
    
The Minister of Police, wanting to create a good impression on his prince, invents major conspiracies that he’s likely to uncover himself since he started them. The lower-ranking agents, eager to gain the Minister’s favor, come up with minor schemes. It’s hard to name a conspiracy that has been uncovered unless the police agents were involved or instigated it. It’s hard to understand how these agents can spark a little intrigue, often originating from some minor grievances or unhappiness, which, due to their manipulation, quickly escalates into a significant issue. Countless conspiracies have slipped past the so-called efficiency and watchfulness of the police when none of their agents were involved. For instance, there was Babeuf's conspiracy, the attempt at the camp at Grenelle, the 18th Brumaire, the infernal machine, Mallet, the events of March 20th, the situation in Grenoble, and many more.







      The political police, the result of the troubles of the Revolution, has
      survived them. The civil police for the security of property, health, and
      order, is only made a secondary object, and has been, therefore,
      neglected. There are times in which it is thought of more consequence to
      discover whether a citizen goes to mass or confession than to defeat the
      designs of a band of robbers. Such a state of things is unfortunate for a
      country; and the money expended on a system of superintendence over
      persons alleged to be suspected, in domestic inquisitions, in the
      corruption of the friends, relations, and servants of the man marked out
      for destruction might be much better employed. The espionage of opinion,
      created, as I have said, by the revolutionary troubles, is suspicious,
      restless, officious, inquisitorial, vexatious, and tyrannical. Indifferent
      to crimes and real offences, it is totally absorbed in the inquisition of
      thoughts. Who has not heard it said in company, to some one speaking
      warmly, "Be moderate, M——— is supposed to belong to the
      police." This police enthralled Bonaparte himself in its snares, and held
      him a long time under the influence of its power.
    
The political police, a byproduct of the Revolution's upheaval, has continued to exist. The civil police, responsible for protecting property, health, and public order, has been sidelined and thus neglected. There are moments when it's considered more important to find out if someone attends mass or confession than to stop a gang of thieves. This situation is unfortunate for a country; the money spent on monitoring people who are merely suspected, on domestic investigations, and on corrupting the friends, family, and servants of those targeted for destruction could be put to much better use. The surveillance of opinions, sparked by the revolutionary chaos, is suspicious, restless, meddlesome, intrusive, annoying, and oppressive. Indifferent to real crimes and offenses, it is completely fixated on probing thoughts. Who hasn't heard someone say in a group, to someone speaking passionately, "Tone it down, M——— is rumored to work for the police"? This policing even ensnared Bonaparte himself, keeping him under its influence for a long time.







      I have taken the liberty thus to speak of a scourge of society of which I
      have been a victim. What I here state may be relied on. I shall not speak
      of the week during which I had to discharge the functions of Prefect of
      Police, namely, from the 13th to the 20th of March, 1815. It may well be
      supposed that though I had not held in abhorrence the infamous system
      which I have described, the important nature of the circumstances and the
      short period of my administration must have prevented me from making
      complete use of the means placed at my disposal. The dictates of
      discretion, which I consider myself bound to obey, forbid me giving proofs
      of what I advance. What it was necessary to do I accomplished without
      employing violent or vexatious means; and I can take on myself to assert
      that no one has cause to complain of me. Were I to publish the list of the
      persons I had orders to arrest, those of them who are yet living would be
      astonished that the only knowledge they had of my being the Prefect of
      Police was from the Moniteur. I obtained by mild measures, by persuasion,
      and reasoning what I could never have got by violence. I am not divulging
      any secrets of office, but I believe I am rendering a service to the
      public in pointing out what I have often observed while an unwilling
      confidant in the shameful manoeuvres of that political institution.
    
I've taken the liberty to address a serious issue in society that I've personally experienced. What I’m stating here can be trusted. I won’t discuss the week I had to perform the duties of Prefect of Police, from March 13 to March 20, 1815. It’s reasonable to assume that, although I didn't despise the terrible system I’ve described, the significance of the situation and the brief term of my administration prevented me from fully utilizing the resources available to me. The principles of discretion, which I feel obligated to follow, stop me from providing evidence for my claims. What needed to be done, I accomplished without using harsh or annoying methods; I can confidently say that no one has any complaints against me. If I were to release the names of the individuals I was ordered to arrest, those who are still alive would be shocked to learn that the only way they knew I was the Prefect of Police was through the Moniteur. I achieved what I could never have through force, using gentle methods, persuasion, and reasoning. I’m not revealing any confidential information, but I believe I’m helping the public by highlighting what I’ve often seen as an unwilling witness to the disgraceful tactics of that political organization.







      The word ideologue was often in Bonaparte's mouth; and in using it he
      endeavoured to throw ridicule on those men whom he fancied to have a
      tendency towards the doctrine of indefinite perfectibility. He esteemed
      them for their morality, yet he looked on them as dreamers seeking for the
      type of a universal constitution, and considering the character of man in
      the abstract only. The ideologues, according to him, looked for power in
      institutions; and that he called metaphysics. He had no idea of power
      except in direct force. All benevolent men who speculate on the
      amelioration of human society were regarded by Bonaparte as dangerous,
      because their maxims and principles were diametrically opposed to the
      harsh and arbitrary system he had adopted. He said that their hearts were
      better than their heads, and, far from wandering with them in
      abstractions, he always said that men were only to be governed by fear and
      interest. The free expression of opinion through the press has been always
      regarded by those who are not led away by interest or power as useful to
      society. But Bonaparte held the liberty of the press in the greatest
      horror; and so violent was his passion when anything was urged in its
      favour that he seemed to labour under a nervous attack. Great man as he
      was, he was sorely afraid of little paragraphs.
    
The term "ideologue" was frequently used by Bonaparte, and when he mentioned it, he aimed to mock those he believed leaned toward the idea of endless perfectibility. He respected them for their moral stance but viewed them as idealists searching for a universal constitution, only thinking about human nature in a theoretical way. To him, ideologues sought power through institutions, which he dismissed as metaphysics. He understood power solely as direct force. Bonaparte saw all well-meaning people who pondered the improvement of society as threats because their ideas and principles clashed with the harsh, arbitrary system he had embraced. He claimed their hearts were better than their minds and insisted that people should be governed by fear and self-interest rather than lofty ideals. Those who aren’t swayed by self-interest or authority often view the free expression of opinions in the press as beneficial for society. However, Bonaparte was extremely averse to press freedom; his reaction was so intense whenever someone defended it that it seemed as though he were having a nervous breakdown. Despite being a great man, he was deeply fearful of small headlines.






 —[Joseph Bonaparte fairly enough remarks on this that such writings
   had done great harm in those extraordinary times (Erreurs, tome i,
   p. 259). Metternich, writing in 1827 with distrust of the
   proceedings of Louis XVIII., quotes, with approval, Napoleon's
   sentiments on this point. "Napoleon, who could not have been
   wanting in the feeling of power, said to me, 'You see me master of
   France; well, I would not undertake to govern her for three months
   with liberty of the press. Louis XVIII., apparently thinking
   himself stronger than Napoleon, is not content with allowing the
   press its freedom, but has embodied its liberty in the charter"
   (Metternich, tome iv, p. 391.)]— 
—[Joseph Bonaparte rightly points out that such writings caused significant damage during those turbulent times (Erreurs, vol. i, p. 259). Metternich, writing in 1827 with skepticism about Louis XVIII.'s actions, quotes Napoleon's thoughts on this matter with approval. "Napoleon, who certainly felt powerful, said to me, 'You see me as the master of France; well, I wouldn't be able to govern her for three months with a free press. Louis XVIII., thinking he is stronger than Napoleon, not only allows freedom of the press but has also included it in the charter" (Metternich, vol. iv, p. 391.)]—








 


 




















      CHAPTER XXXII.
    



      1800.
    
1800.


   Successful management of parties—Precautions—Removal from the
   Luxembourg to the Tuileries—Hackney-coaches and the Consul's white
   horses—Royal custom and an inscription—The review—Bonaparte's
   homage to the standards—Talleyrand in Bonaparte's cabinet—
   Bonaparte's aversion to the cap of liberty even in painting—The
   state bed—Our cabinet.

   Successful management of parties—Precautions—Moving from Luxembourg to the Tuileries—Hackney coaches and the Consul's white horses—Royal tradition and an inscription—The review—Bonaparte's tribute to the standards—Talleyrand in Bonaparte's cabinet—Bonaparte's dislike for the liberty cap even in art—The state bed—Our cabinet.







      Of the three brothers to whom the 18th Brumaire gave birth Bonaparte
      speedily declared himself the eldest, and hastened to assume all the
      rights of primogeniture. He soon arrogated to himself the whole power. The
      project he had formed, when he favoured the revolution of the 18th
      Fructidor, was now about to be realized. It was then an indispensable part
      of his plan that the Directory should violate the constitution in order to
      justify a subsequent subversion of the Directory. The expressions which
      escaped him from time to time plainly showed that his ambition was not yet
      satisfied, and that the Consulship was only a state of probation
      preliminary to the complete establishment of monarchy. The Luxembourg was
      then discovered to be too small for the Chief of the Government, and it
      was resolved that Bonaparte should inhabit the Tuileries. Still great
      prudence was necessary to avoid the quicksands which surrounded him! He
      therefore employed great precaution in dealing with the susceptibilities
      of the Republicans, taking care to inure them gradually to the temperature
      of absolute power. But this mode of treatment was not sufficient; for such
      was Bonaparte's situation between the Jacobins and the Royalists that he
      could not strike a blow at one party without strengthening the other. He,
      however, contrived to solve this difficult problem, and weakened both
      parties by alternately frightening each. "You see, Royalists," he seemed
      to say, "if you do not attach yourselves to my government the Jacobins
      will again rise and bring back the reign of terror and its scaffold." To
      the men of the Revolution he, on the other hand, said, "See, the
      counter-Revolution appears, threatening reprisals and vengeance. It is
      ready to overwhelm you; my buckler can alone protect you from its
      attacks." Thus both parties were induced, from their mutual fear of each
      other, to attach themselves to Bonaparte; and while they fancied they were
      only placing themselves under the protection of the Chief of the
      Government, they were making themselves dependent on an ambitious man,
      who, gradually bending them to his will, guided them as he chose in his
      political career. He advanced with a firm step; but he never neglected any
      artifice to conceal, as long as possible, his designs.
    
Of the three brothers that the 18th Brumaire produced, Bonaparte quickly claimed to be the eldest and rushed to take on all the rights of being the firstborn. He soon grabbed all the power for himself. The plan he had laid out when he supported the revolution of the 18th Fructidor was now about to come to life. It was essential for his plan that the Directory break the constitution to justify a later overthrow of the Directory. The comments he occasionally let slip clearly indicated that his ambition wasn't satisfied yet, and that the Consulship was merely a trial phase before fully establishing a monarchy. It then became clear that the Luxembourg was too small for the Head of Government, and it was decided that Bonaparte should move into the Tuileries. Still, he had to be very careful to avoid the traps surrounding him! He took great care in handling the feelings of the Republicans, slowly acclimating them to the idea of absolute power. However, this approach wasn’t enough; because Bonaparte found himself caught between the Jacobins and the Royalists, he couldn’t attack one party without strengthening the other. Nonetheless, he managed to resolve this tricky situation and weakened both sides by alternately scaring each one. "You see, Royalists," he seemed to say, "if you don’t align with my government, the Jacobins will rise again and bring back the reign of terror and its guillotine." To the Revolutionaries, he said, "Look, the counter-Revolution is emerging, threatening reprisals and revenge. It’s ready to overwhelm you; only my protection can keep you safe from its attacks." This way, both sides were compelled, out of fear for one another, to support Bonaparte; and while they believed they were merely seeking refuge under the Head of Government, they were actually becoming dependent on an ambitious man who gradually bent them to his will, guiding them as he pleased in his political journey. He moved forward confidently but never neglected any trick to hide, for as long as possible, his true intentions.







      I saw Bonaparte put in motion all his concealed springs; and I could not
      help admiring his wonderful address.
    
I watched Bonaparte set all his hidden mechanisms in motion, and I couldn't help but admire his incredible skill.







      But what most astonished me was the control he possessed over himself, in
      repressing any premature manifestation of his intentions which might
      prejudice his projects. Thus, for instance, he never spoke of the
      Tuileries but under the name of "the Palace of the Government," and he
      determined not to inhabit, at first, the ancient palace of the kings of
      France alone. He contented himself with selecting the royal apartments,
      and proposed that the Third Consul should also reside in the Tuileries,
      and in consequence he occupied the Pavilion of Flora. This skilful
      arrangement was perfectly in accordance with the designation of "Palace of
      the Government" given to the Tuileries, and was calculated to deceive, for
      a time, the most clear-sighted.
    
But what really amazed me was the self-control he had, holding back any early signs of his intentions that could jeopardize his plans. For example, he never referred to the Tuileries by its name but called it "the Palace of the Government," and he decided not to live in the ancient palace of the kings of France initially. Instead, he was satisfied with choosing the royal apartments and suggested that the Third Consul should also live in the Tuileries, so he took up residence in the Pavilion of Flora. This clever arrangement was completely in line with the term "Palace of the Government" that was assigned to the Tuileries, and it was designed to mislead even the most perceptive for a time.







      The moment for leaving the Luxembourg having arrived, Bonaparte still used
      many deceptive precautions. The day filed for the translation of the seat
      of government was the 30th Pluviôse, the previous day having been selected
      for publishing the account of the votes taken for the acceptance of the
      new Constitution. He had, besides, caused the insertion in the 'Moniteur'
      of the eulogy on Washington, pronounced, by M. de Fontanes, the decadi
      preceding, to be delayed for ten days. He thought that the day when he was
      about to take so large a step towards monarchy would be well chosen for
      entertaining the people of Paris with grand ideas of liberty, and for
      coupling his own name with that of the founder of the free government of
      the United States.
    
The time had come for Bonaparte to leave Luxembourg, but he still took a lot of sneaky precautions. The day set for moving the seat of government was the 30th of Pluviôse, with the day before chosen to announce the results of the votes on the new Constitution. He also delayed the publication of M. de Fontanes' tribute to Washington in the 'Moniteur' for ten days. He believed that the day he was about to take such a significant step toward monarchy would be perfect for impressing the people of Paris with grand ideas of freedom and linking his name with the founder of the United States' free government.







      At seven o'clock on the morning of the 30th Pluviôse I entered, as usual,
      the chamber of the First Consul. He was in a profound sleep, and this was
      one of the days on which I had been desired to allow him to sleep a little
      longer than usual. I have often observed that General Bonaparte appeared
      much less moved when on the point of executing any great design than
      during the time of projecting it, so accustomed was he to think that what
      he had resolved on in his mind, was already done.
    
At seven o'clock on the morning of the 30th Pluviôse, I entered, as usual, the room of the First Consul. He was deeply asleep, and this was one of those days when I had been asked to let him sleep a little longer than usual. I've often noticed that General Bonaparte seemed much less affected right before carrying out a major plan than he did while he was still planning it, as he was so used to believing that what he had decided in his mind was already accomplished.







      When I returned to Bonaparte he said to me, with a marked air of
      satisfaction, "Well, Bourrienne, to-night, at last, we shall sleep in the
      Tuileries. You are better off than I: you are not obliged to make a
      spectacle of yourself, but may go your own road there. I must, however, go
      in procession: that disgusts me; but it is necessary to speak to the eyes.
      That has a good effect on the people. The Directory was too simple, and
      therefore never enjoyed any consideration. In the army simplicity is in
      its proper place; but in a great city, in a palace, the Chief of the
      Government must attract attention in every possible way, yet still with
      prudence. Josephine is going to look out from Lebrun's apartments; go with
      her, if you like; but go to the cabinet as soon as you see me alight from
      my horse."
    
When I got back to Bonaparte, he said to me with a clear sense of satisfaction, "Well, Bourrienne, tonight, finally, we’ll be sleeping in the Tuileries. You have it easier than I do: you don’t have to put on a show, so you can take your own path there. I, however, need to go in a procession: it annoys me, but it’s necessary to make a visual impact. That really resonates with the people. The Directory was too plain and never earned any respect. In the army, simplicity has its place, but in a big city, in a palace, the leader of the Government has to stand out in every way possible, yet still be careful. Josephine will be looking out from Lebrun’s apartments; feel free to go with her, but head to the cabinet as soon as you see me get off my horse."







      I did not go to the review, but proceeded to the Tuileries, to arrange in
      our new cabinet the papers which it was my duty to take care of, and to
      prepare everything for the First Consul's arrival. It was not until the
      evening that I learned, from the conversation in the salon, where there
      was a numerous party, what had taken place in the course of the day.
    
I didn't attend the review but went to the Tuileries to organize the papers in our new cabinet that I was responsible for and to get everything ready for the First Consul's arrival. I only found out in the evening, through the conversations in the salon where there was a large gathering, about what had happened during the day.







      At one o'clock precisely Bonaparte left the Luxembourg. The procession
      was, doubtless, far from approaching the magnificent parade of the Empire:
      but as much pomp was introduced as the state of things in France
      permitted. The only real splendour of that period consisted in fine
      troops. Three thousand picked men, among whom was the superb regiment of
      the Guides, had been ordered out for the occasion: all marched in the
      greatest order; with music at the head of each corps. The generals and
      their staffs were on horseback, the Ministers in carriages, which were
      somewhat remarkable, as they were almost the only private carriages then
      in Paris, for hackney-coaches had been hired to convey the Council of
      State, and no trouble had been taken to alter them, except by pasting over
      the number a piece of paper of the same colour as the body of the vehicle.
      The Consul's carriage was drawn by six white horses. With the sight of
      those horses was associated the recollection of days of glory and of
      peace, for they had been presented to the General-in-Chief of the army of
      Italy by the Emperor of Germany after the treaty of Campo-Formio.
      Bonaparte also wore the magnificent sabre given him by the Emperor
      Francis. With Cambacérès on his left, and Lebrun in the front of the
      carriage, the First Consul traversed a part of Paris, taking the Rue de
      Thionville, and the Quai Voltaire to the Pont Royal. Everywhere he was
      greeted by acclamations of joy, which at that time were voluntary, and
      needed not to be commanded by the police.
    
At exactly one o'clock, Bonaparte left the Luxembourg. The procession, while far from the grand parades of the Empire, had as much pomp as the situation in France allowed. The only real splendor of that time came from the impressive troops. Three thousand selected soldiers, including the outstanding regiment of the Guides, had been assembled for the occasion: they marched with great discipline, accompanied by music at the front of each unit. The generals and their staffs were on horseback, while the Ministers were in carriages, which were notable as they were almost the only private carriages in Paris at the time. Hackney coaches had been rented to transport the Council of State, and little effort had been made to disguise them, other than slapping a piece of paper over the number that matched the color of the vehicles. The Consul's carriage was pulled by six white horses, which brought back memories of glorious days and peace, as they had been gifted to the General-in-Chief of the army of Italy by the Emperor of Germany after the treaty of Campo-Formio. Bonaparte also wore the magnificent sword he received from Emperor Francis. With Cambacérès on his left and Lebrun in front of the carriage, the First Consul traveled through part of Paris, taking the Rue de Thionville and the Quai Voltaire to the Pont Royal. Everywhere he went, he was met with cheers of joy, which at that time were spontaneous and didn’t need to be prompted by the police.







      From the wicket of the Carrousel to the gate of the Tuileries the troops
      of the Consular Guard were formed in two lines, through which the
      procession passed—a royal custom, which made a singular contrast
      with an inscription in front of which Bonaparte passed on entering the
      courtyard. Two guard-houses had been built, one on the right and another
      on the left of the centre gate. On the one to the right were written these
      words:
    
From the gate of the Carrousel to the entrance of the Tuileries, the troops of the Consular Guard were lined up in two rows, creating a path for the procession— a royal tradition that stood in stark contrast to a sign that Bonaparte walked by as he entered the courtyard. Two guardhouses had been constructed, one on the right and another on the left of the central gate. On the one to the right, these words were written:






     "THE TENTH of AUGUST 1792.—ROYALTY IN FRANCE
     IS ABOLISHED; AND SHALL NEVER BE RE-ESTABLISHED!"

     "THE TENTH of AUGUST 1792.—ROYALTY IN FRANCE IS ABOLISHED; AND SHALL NEVER BE RE-ESTABLISHED!"







      It was already re-established!
    
It was already restored!







      In the meantime the troops had been drawn up in line in the courtyard. As
      soon as the Consul's carriage stopped Bonaparte immediately alighted, and
      mounted, or, to speak more properly, leaped on his horse, and reviewed his
      troops, while the other two Consuls proceeded to the state apartments of
      the Tuileries, where the Council of State and the Ministers awaited them.
      A great many ladies, elegantly dressed in Greek costume, which was then
      the fashion, were seated with Madame Bonaparte at the windows of the Third
      Consul's apartments in the Pavilion of Flora. It is impossible to give an
      idea of the immense crowds which flowed in from all quarters. The windows
      looking to the Carrousel were let for very large sums; and everywhere
      arose, as if from one voice, shouts of "Long live the First Consul!" Who
      could help being intoxicated by so much enthusiasm?
    
In the meantime, the troops were lined up in the courtyard. As soon as the Consul's carriage stopped, Bonaparte quickly got out and jumped onto his horse to review his troops, while the other two Consuls headed to the state apartments of the Tuileries, where the Council of State and the Ministers were waiting for them. Many ladies, elegantly dressed in Greek-style outfits, which were the fashion at the time, were seated with Madame Bonaparte at the windows of the Third Consul's apartments in the Pavilion of Flora. It's impossible to convey the huge crowds that gathered from all directions. The windows facing the Carrousel were rented out for very large sums of money, and everywhere you could hear, as if from a single voice, the shouts of "Long live the First Consul!" Who could resist being swept away by such enthusiasm?







      Bonaparte prolonged the review for some time, passed down all the ranks,
      and addressed the commanders of corps in terms of approbation and praise.
      He then took his station at the gate of the Tuileries, with Murat on his
      right, and Lannes on his left, and behind him a numerous staff of young
      warriors, whose complexions had been browned by the sun of Egypt and
      Italy, and who had been engaged in more battles than they numbered years.
      When the colours of the 96th, 43d, and 34th demi-brigades, or rather their
      flagstaffs surmounted by some shreds, riddled by balls and blackened by
      powder, passed before him, he raised his hat and inclined his head in
      token of respect. Every homage thus paid by a great captain to standards
      which had been mutilated on the field of battle was saluted by a thousand
      acclamations. When the troops had finished defiling before him, the First
      Consul, with a firm step, ascended the stairs of the Tuileries.
    
Bonaparte extended the review for a while, moving through all the ranks and speaking to the corps commanders with approval and praise. He then took his position at the Tuileries gate, with Murat on his right and Lannes on his left, while a large staff of young soldiers stood behind him. Their complexions were tanned from the sun of Egypt and Italy, and they had fought in more battles than they had years. When the flags of the 96th, 43rd, and 34th demi-brigades, or what remained of their flagpoles topped with some tattered pieces, shot through the crowd—shot up and blackened by gunfire—he raised his hat and nodded his head in respect. Each salute made by a great leader to banners that had been damaged in battle was met with a thousand cheers. After the troops finished passing before him, the First Consul confidently climbed the Tuileries stairs.







      The General's part being finished for the day, that of the Chief of the
      State began; and indeed it might already be said that the First Consul was
      the whole Consulate. At the risk of interrupting my narrative of what
      occurred on our arrival at the Tuileries, by a digression, which may be
      thought out of place, I will relate a fact which had no little weight in
      hastening Bonaparte's determination to assume a superiority over his
      colleagues. It may be remembered that when Roger Ducos and Sieyès bore the
      title of Consuls the three members of the Consular commission were equal,
      if not in fact at least in right. But when Cambacérès and Lebrun took
      their places, Talleyrand, who had at the same time been appointed to
      succeed M. Reinhart as Minister of Foreign Affairs, obtained a private
      audience of the First Consul in his cabinet, to which I was admitted. The
      observations of Talleyrand on this occasion were highly agreeable to
      Bonaparte, and they made too deep an impression on my mind to allow me to
      forget them.
    
The General's role for the day was finished, and now it was the Chief of State's turn; in fact, it could already be said that the First Consul was essentially the entire Consulate. Although it might interrupt my account of our arrival at the Tuileries, I need to mention a detail that played a significant role in pushing Bonaparte to take charge over his colleagues. It's worth recalling that when Roger Ducos and Sieyès held the title of Consuls, the three members of the Consular commission were equal, at least in theory. However, when Cambacérès and Lebrun stepped in, Talleyrand, who had just been appointed to replace M. Reinhart as Minister of Foreign Affairs, secured a private meeting with the First Consul in his office, which I attended. Talleyrand's comments during this meeting were very pleasing to Bonaparte and left a lasting impression on me that I can’t forget.







      "Citizen Consul," said he to him, "you have confided to me the office of
      Minister for Foreign Affairs, and I will justify your confidence; but I
      must declare to you that from this moment, I will not transact business
      with any but yourself. This determination does not proceed from any vain
      pride on my part, but is induced by a desire to serve France. In order
      that France may be well governed, in order that there may be a unity of
      action in the government, you must be First Consul, and the First Consul
      must have the control over all that relates directly to politics; that is
      to say, over the Ministry of the Interior, and the Ministry of Police, for
      Internal Affairs, and over my department, for Foreign Affairs; and,
      lastly, over the two great means of execution, the military and naval
      forces. It will therefore be most convenient that the Ministers of those
      five departments should transact business with you. The Administration of
      Justice and the ordering of the Finances are objects certainly connected
      with State politics by numerous links, which, however, are not of so
      intimate a nature as those of the other departments. If you will allow me,
      General, I should advise that the control over the Administration of
      Justice be given to the Second Consul, who is well versed in
      jurisprudence; and to the Third Consul, who is equally well acquainted
      with Finance, the control over that department. That will occupy and amuse
      them, and you, General, having at your disposal all the vital parts of the
      government, will be able to reach the end you aim at, the regeneration of
      France."
    
"Citizen Consul," he said to him, "you have entrusted me with the role of Minister for Foreign Affairs, and I will prove you right; however, I need to make it clear that from this moment on, I will only deal with you. This decision isn't based on any ego on my part, but rather on a wish to serve France. For France to be well governed, there needs to be a unified approach in the government, which means you should be First Consul, and as First Consul, you must oversee everything related to politics. This includes the Ministry of the Interior and the Ministry of Police for Internal Affairs, as well as my department for Foreign Affairs; and finally, over the two major enforcement means: the military and naval forces. Therefore, it would make the most sense for the Ministers of those five departments to work directly with you. The Administration of Justice and the management of Finances are certainly tied to state politics by many links, but those aren’t as closely connected as the other departments. If you agree, General, I suggest that the Second Consul, well-versed in law, be given control of the Administration of Justice, and that the Third Consul, equally knowledgeable in Finance, take charge of that department. That will keep them occupied and engaged, and you, General, having all the essential parts of the government at your command, will be able to achieve what you’re aiming for: the revival of France."







      Bonaparte did not hear these remarkable words with indifference. They were
      too much in accordance with his own secret wishes to be listened to
      without pleasure; and he said to me as soon as Talleyrand had taken leave,
      "Do you know, Bourrienne, I think Talleyrand gives good advice. He is a
      man of great understanding."—"Such is the opinion," I replied, "of
      all who know him."—"He is perfectly right." Afterwards he added,
      smiling, "Tallyrand is evidently a shrewd man. He has penetrated my
      designs. What he advises you know I am anxious to do. But again I say, he
      is right; one gets on quicker by oneself. Lebrun is a worthy man, but he
      has no policy in his head; he is a book-maker. Cambacérès carries with him
      too many traditions of the Revolution. My government must be an entirely
      new one."
    
Bonaparte didn’t ignore these notable words. They aligned too closely with his own hidden desires to hear them without delight. As soon as Talleyrand had left, he said to me, “Do you know, Bourrienne, I think Talleyrand gives great advice. He’s a man of deep understanding.” — “That’s the view,” I replied, “of everyone who knows him.” — “He’s absolutely right.” Then he added, smiling, “Talleyrand is clearly a clever guy. He has figured out my plans. What he suggests is something I’m eager to pursue. But again, I say he’s right; you progress faster on your own. Lebrun is a decent man, but he lacks a strategic mind; he’s just an academic. Cambacérès is still tied to too many revolutionary traditions. My government needs to be completely new.”







      Talleyrand's advice had been so punctually followed that even on the
      occasion of the installation of the Consular Government, while Bonaparte
      was receiving all the great civil and military officers of the State in
      the hall of presentation, Cambacérès and Lebrun stood by more like
      spectators of the scene than two colleagues of the First Consul. The
      Minister of the Interior presented the civil authorities of Paris; the
      Minister of War, the staff of the 17th military division; the Minister of
      Marine, several naval officers; and the staff of the Consular Guard was
      presented by Murat. As our Consular republicans were not exactly Spartans,
      the ceremony of the presentations was followed by grand dinner-parties.
      The First Consul entertained at his table, the two other Consuls, the
      Ministers, and the Presidents of the great bodies of the State. Murat
      treated the heads of the army; and the members of the Council of State,
      being again seated in their hackney-coaches with covered numbers, drove
      off to dine with Lucien.
    
Talleyrand's advice had been so closely followed that even during the installation of the Consular Government, while Bonaparte was greeting all the important civil and military leaders in the presentation hall, Cambacérès and Lebrun appeared more like spectators than colleagues of the First Consul. The Minister of the Interior introduced the civil officials of Paris; the Minister of War introduced the staff of the 17th military division; the Minister of Marine introduced several naval officers; and the staff of the Consular Guard was presented by Murat. Since our Consular republicans weren't exactly Spartans, the presentation ceremony was followed by lavish dinner parties. The First Consul hosted the two other Consuls, the Ministers, and the Presidents of the major state bodies at his table. Murat hosted the heads of the army, and the members of the Council of State, once again in their hired carriages with covered numbers, left to dine with Lucien.







      Before taking possession of the Tuileries we had frequently gone there to
      see that the repairs, or rather the whitewashing, which Bonaparte had
      directed to be done, was executed. On our first visit, seeing a number of
      red caps of liberty painted on the walls, he said to M. Lecomte, at that
      time the architect in charge, "Get rid of all these things; I do not like
      to see such rubbish."
    
Before we took over the Tuileries, we often visited to check on the repairs, or more accurately, the painting that Bonaparte had ordered. On our first visit, noticing several red liberty caps painted on the walls, he told M. Lecomte, who was the architect in charge at the time, "Remove all of this; I don't want to see such nonsense."







      The First Consul gave directions himself for what little alterations he
      wanted in his own apartments. A state bed—not that of Louis XVI.—was
      placed in the chamber next his cabinet, on the south side, towards the
      grand staircase of the Pavilion of Flora. I may as well mention here that
      he very seldom occupied that bed, for Bonaparte was very simple in his
      manner of living in private, and was not fond of state, except as a means
      of imposing on mankind. At the Luxembourg, at Malmaison, and during the
      first period that he occupied the Tuileries, Bonaparte, if I may speak in
      the language of common life, always slept with his wife. He went every
      evening down to Josephine by a small staircase leading from a wardrobe
      attached to his cabinet, and which had formerly been the chapel of Maria
      de Medici. I never went to Bonaparte's bedchamber but by this staircase;
      and when he came to our cabinet it was always by the wardrobe which I have
      mentioned. The door opened opposite the only window of our room, and it
      commanded a view of the garden.
    
The First Consul personally oversaw the few changes he wanted in his own rooms. A state bed—not that of Louis XVI.—was set up in the room next to his office, on the south side, near the grand staircase of the Pavilion of Flora. It's worth mentioning that he rarely used that bed, as Bonaparte preferred a simple lifestyle in private and didn't care much for grandeur, except as a way to impress others. At the Luxembourg, at Malmaison, and during the early time he spent at the Tuileries, Bonaparte, to put it plainly, always slept with his wife. Each evening, he would go down to Josephine by a small staircase that connected to a wardrobe in his office, which used to be the chapel of Maria de Medici. I only entered Bonaparte's bedroom using this staircase, and when he came to our office, he always came through the wardrobe I mentioned. The door opened opposite the only window in our room, which overlooked the garden.







      As for our cabinet, where so many great, and also small events were
      prepared, and where I passed so many hours of my life, I can, even now,
      give the most minute description of it to those who like such details.
    
As for our cabinet, where so many significant and also minor events took place, and where I spent countless hours of my life, I can, even now, provide the most detailed description of it to those who appreciate such details.







      There were two tables. The best, which was the First Consul's, stood in
      the middle of the room, and his armchair was turned with its back to the
      fireplace, having the window on the right. To the right of this again was
      a little closet where Duroc sat, through which we could communicate with
      the clerk of the office and the grand apartments of the Court. When the
      First Consul was seated at his table in his chair (the arms of which he so
      frequently mutilated with his penknife) he had a large bookcase opposite
      to him. A little to the right, on one side of the bookcase, was another
      door, opening into the cabinet which led directly to the state bedchamber
      which I have mentioned. Thence we passed into the grand Presentation
      Saloon, on the ceiling of which Lebrun had painted a likeness of Louis
      XIV. A tri-coloured cockade placed on the forehead of the great King still
      bore witness of the imbecile turpitude of the Convention. Lastly came the
      hall of the Guards, in front of the grand staircase of the Pavilion of
      Flora.
    
There were two tables. The best one, the First Consul's, was in the middle of the room, and his armchair faced away from the fireplace, with the window on the right. To the right of that was a small closet where Duroc sat, which allowed us to communicate with the office clerk and the grand apartments of the Court. When the First Consul sat at his table in his chair (which he often damaged with his penknife), he faced a large bookcase. A little to the right of the bookcase, there was another door that led into the cabinet, which went directly to the state bedchamber I mentioned. From there, we entered the grand Presentation Saloon, where Lebrun had painted a likeness of Louis XIV on the ceiling. A tri-colored cockade placed on the forehead of the great King still showed the foolishness of the Convention. Finally, we reached the hall of the Guards, in front of the grand staircase of the Pavilion of Flora.







      My writing-table, which was extremely plain, stood near the window, and in
      summer I had a view of the thick foliage of the chestnut-trees; but in
      order to see the promenaders in the garden I was obliged to raise myself
      from my seat. My back was turned to the General's side, so that it
      required only a slight movement of the head to speak to each other. Duroc
      was seldom in his little cabinet, and that was the place where I gave some
      audiences. The Consular cabinet, which afterwards became the Imperial, has
      left many impressions on my mind; and I hope the reader, in going through
      these volumes, will not think that they have been of too slight a
      description.
    
My writing desk, which was very simple, was placed by the window, and in the summer, I had a view of the thick leaves of the chestnut trees; but to see the people walking in the garden, I had to lift myself from my seat. My back was toward the General's side, so it only took a slight turn of my head for us to talk to each other. Duroc was rarely in his small office, and that was where I held some meetings. The Consular office, which later became the Imperial one, has left many memories in my mind; and I hope the reader, while going through these volumes, won't think that the descriptions have been too brief.








 


 




















      CHAPTER XXXIII.
    



      1800.
    
1800.


   The Tuileries—Royalty in perspective—Remarkable observation—
   Presentations—Assumption of the prerogative of mercy—M. Defeu—
   M. de Frotte—Georges Cadoudal's audience of Bonaparte—Rapp's
   precaution and Bonaparte's confidence—The dignity of France—
   Napper Tandy and Blackwell delivered up by the Senate of Hamburg—
   Contribution in the Egyptian style—Valueless bill—Fifteen thousand
   francs in the drawer of a secretaire—Josephine's debts—Evening
   walks with Bonaparte.

   The Tuileries—Royalty from a new angle—Interesting insights—  
   Presentations—Taking on the power of mercy—Mr. Defeu—  
   Mr. de Frotte—Georges Cadoudal’s meeting with Bonaparte—Rapp’s  
   caution and Bonaparte’s trust—The dignity of France—  
   Napper Tandy and Blackwell handed over by the Senate of Hamburg—  
   Contribution in the Egyptian style—Worthless bill—Fifteen thousand  
   francs in the drawer of a desk—Josephine’s debts—Evening  
   strolls with Bonaparte.







      The morning after that ardently wished-for day on which we took possession
      of the Palace of the Kings of France I observed to Bonaparte on entering
      his chamber, "Well, General, you have got here without much difficulty,
      and with the applause of the people! Do you remember what you said to me
      in the Rue St. Anne nearly two years ago?"—"Ay, true enough, I
      recollect. You see what it is to have the mind set on a thing. Only two
      years have gone by! Don't you think we have not worked badly since that
      time? Upon the whole I am very well content. Yesterday passed off well. Do
      you imagine that all those who came to flatter me were sincere? No,
      certainly not: but the joy of the people was real. They know what is
      right. Besides, consult the grand thermometer of opinion, the price of the
      funds: on the 17th Brumaire at 11 francs, on the 20th at 16 and to-day at
      21. In such a state of things I may let the Jacobins prate as they like.
      But let them not talk too loudly either!"
    
The morning after that eagerly anticipated day when we took over the Palace of the Kings of France, I said to Bonaparte as I entered his room, "Well, General, you made it here without much trouble and with the people's support! Do you remember what you told me in the Rue St. Anne almost two years ago?" — "Yes, I remember. It just shows what can happen when you set your mind to something. Only two years have passed! Don’t you think we’ve made good progress since then? Overall, I’m quite satisfied. Yesterday went well. Do you really think all those who came to flatter me were genuine? No, definitely not: but the people’s joy was real. They know what’s right. Plus, just look at the big picture, the price of the stocks: on the 17th Brumaire it was at 11 francs, on the 20th at 16, and today at 21. Given this situation, I can ignore the Jacobins and their chatter. But they shouldn’t get too loud either!"







      As soon as he was dressed we went to look through the Gallery of Diana and
      examine the statues which had been placed there by his orders. We ended
      our morning's work by taking complete possession of our new residence. I
      recollect Bonaparte saying to me, among other things, "To be at the
      Tuileries, Bourrienne, is not all. We must stay here. Who, in Heaven's
      name, has not already inhabited this palace? Ruffians, conventionalists!
      But hold! there is your brother's house! Was it not from those windows I
      saw the Tuileries besieged, and the good Louis XVI. carried off? But be
      assured they will not come here again!"
    
As soon as he got dressed, we went to explore the Gallery of Diana and check out the statues he had ordered to be placed there. We wrapped up our morning by fully taking over our new home. I remember Bonaparte saying to me, among other things, "Being at the Tuileries, Bourrienne, isn’t everything. We have to stay here. Who on Earth hasn’t already lived in this palace? Thugs, conventionalists! But wait! There’s your brother’s house! Wasn’t it from those windows that I saw the Tuileries under siege, and good Louis XVI taken away? But trust me, they won’t come here again!"







      The Ambassadors and other foreign Ministers then in Paris were presented
      to the First Consul at a solemn audience. On this occasion all the ancient
      ceremonials belonging to the French Court were raked up, and in place of
      chamberlains and a grand master of ceremonies a Counsellor of State, M.
      Benezech, who was once Minister for Foreign Affairs, officiated.
    
The ambassadors and other foreign ministers in Paris were introduced to the First Consul during a formal audience. On this occasion, all the old traditions of the French Court were revived, and instead of chamberlains and a grand master of ceremonies, a Counsellor of State, M. Benezech, who was once the Minister for Foreign Affairs, took charge.







      When the Ambassadors had all arrived M. Benezech conducted them into the
      cabinet, in which were the three Consuls, the Ministers, and the Council
      of State. The Ambassadors presented their credentials to the First Consul,
      who handed them to the Minister for Foreign Affairs. These presentations
      were followed by others; for example, the Tribunal of Cassation, over
      which the old advocate, Target, who refused to defend Louis XVI., then
      presided. All this passed in view of the three Consuls; but the
      circumstance which distinguished the First Consul from his colleagues was,
      that the official personages, on leaving the audience-chamber, were
      conducted to Madame Bonaparte's apartments, in imitation of the old
      practice of waiting on the Queen after presentation to the King.
    
When all the Ambassadors had arrived, M. Benezech led them into the room where the three Consuls, the Ministers, and the Council of State were present. The Ambassadors presented their credentials to the First Consul, who then passed them to the Minister for Foreign Affairs. This was followed by other presentations; for instance, the Tribunal of Cassation, which was presided over by the old lawyer, Target, who had refused to defend Louis XVI. All of this happened in front of the three Consuls; however, what set the First Consul apart from his colleagues was that, once the official individuals left the audience chamber, they were taken to Madame Bonaparte's quarters, mirroring the old tradition of visiting the Queen after being presented to the King.







      Thus old customs of royalty crept by degrees into the former abodes of
      royalty. Amongst the rights attached to the Crown, and which the
      Constitution of the year VIII. did not give to the First Consul, was one
      which he much desired to possess, and which, by the most happy of all
      usurpations, he arrogated to himself. This was the right of granting
      pardon. Bonaparte felt a real pleasure in saving men under the sentence of
      the law; and whenever the imperious necessity of his policy, to which, in
      truth, he sacrificed everything, permitted it, he rejoiced in the exercise
      of mercy. It would seem as if he were thankful to the persons to whom he
      rendered such service merely because he had given them occasion to be
      thankful to him. Such was the First Consul: I do not speak of the Emperor.
      Bonaparte, the First Consul, was accessible to the solicitations of
      friendship in favour of persons placed under proscription. The following
      circumstance, which interested me much, affords an incontestable proof of
      what I state:—
    
Old royal customs gradually made their way back into the former royal residences. Among the rights associated with the Crown that the Constitution of Year VIII did not grant to the First Consul was one that he greatly wanted, and he claimed it through the most fortunate of all usurpations. This was the right to grant pardons. Bonaparte took genuine pleasure in saving people facing legal sentences, and whenever the pressing demands of his policies— to which he sacrificed everything—allowed, he took joy in showing mercy. It seemed as if he felt grateful to the individuals he helped simply because he had given them a reason to be thankful to him. Such was the First Consul; I do not refer to the Emperor. Bonaparte, the First Consul, was open to the appeals of friendship for those under proscription. The following incident, which greatly interested me, provides undeniable proof of my statement:—







      Whilst we were still at the Luxembourg, M. Defeu, a French emigrant, was
      taken in the Tyrol with arms in his hand by the troops of the Republic. He
      was carried to Grenoble, and thrown into the military prison of that town.
      In the course of January General Ferino, then commanding at Grenoble,
      received orders to put the young emigrant on his trial. The laws against
      emigrants taken in arms were terrible, and the judges dared not be
      indulgent. To be tried in the morning, condemned in the course of the day,
      and shot in the evening, was the usual course of those implacable
      proceedings. One of my cousins, the daughter of M. Poitrincourt, came from
      Sens to Paris to inform me of the dreadful situation of M. Defeu. She told
      me that he was related to the most respectable families of the town of
      Sens, and that everybody felt the greatest interest in his fate.
    
While we were still in Luxembourg, M. Defeu, a French emigrant, was caught with weapons in the Tyrol by the Republic's troops. He was taken to Grenoble and thrown into the military prison there. In January, General Ferino, who was in command in Grenoble at the time, received orders to put the young emigrant on trial. The laws against emigrants caught with arms were severe, and the judges couldn't afford to be lenient. It was typical for someone to be tried in the morning, sentenced by the afternoon, and executed by evening during those ruthless proceedings. One of my cousins, the daughter of M. Poitrincourt, traveled from Sens to Paris to update me on M. Defeu's terrible situation. She told me that he was related to some of the most respected families in Sens, and everyone was very concerned about his fate.







      I had escaped for a few moments to keep the appointment I made with
      Mademoiselle Poitrincourt. On my return I perceived the First Consul
      surprised at finding himself alone in the cabinet, which I was not in the
      habit of quitting without his knowledge. "Where have you been?" said he.
      "I have been to see one of my relations, who solicits a favour of you."—"What
      is it?" I then informed him of the unfortunate situation of M. Defeu. His
      first answer was dreadful. "No pity! no pity for emigrants! Whoever fights
      against his country is a child who tries to kill his mother!" This first
      burst of anger being over, I returned to the charge. I urged the youth of
      M. Defeu, and the good effect which clemency would produce. "Well," said
      he, "write—
    
I had stepped away for a few moments to keep my appointment with Mademoiselle Poitrincourt. When I returned, I saw the First Consul surprised to find himself alone in the office, since I usually didn’t leave without his knowledge. "Where have you been?" he asked. "I went to see a relative who is asking for a favor from you."—"What is it?" I then told him about M. Defeu's unfortunate situation. His first response was terrible. "No pity! No pity for emigrants! Anyone who fights against their country is like a child trying to kill their mother!" After his initial anger subsided, I pressed on. I emphasized M. Defeu's youth and the positive impact that mercy could have. "Well," he said, "write—






   "The First Consul orders the judgment on M. Defeu to be suspended."

   "The First Consul orders the judgment on Mr. Defeu to be put on hold."







      He signed this laconic order, which I instantly despatched to General
      Ferino. I acquainted my cousin with what had passed, and remained at ease
      as to the result of the affair.
    
He signed this brief order, which I immediately sent to General Ferino. I informed my cousin about what happened and felt relaxed about how things would turn out.







      Scarcely had I entered the chamber of the First Consul the next morning
      when he said to me, "Well, Bourrienne, you say nothing about your M.
      Defeu. Are you satisfied?"—"General, I cannot find terms to express
      my gratitude."—"Ah, bah! But I do not like to do things by halves.
      Write to Ferino that I wish M. Defeu to be instantly set at liberty.
      Perhaps I am serving one who will prove ungrateful. Well, so much the
      worse for him. As to these matters, Bourrienne, always ask them from me.
      When I refuse, it is because I cannot help it."
    
As soon as I walked into the First Consul's room the next morning, he said to me, "Well, Bourrienne, you haven't mentioned your Mr. Defeu. Are you satisfied?" — "General, I can't find the words to express my gratitude." — "Oh, come on! I don’t like to do things halfway. Write to Ferino that I want Mr. Defeu to be set free immediately. Maybe I’m helping someone who will be ungrateful. Well, that’s his problem. When it comes to these things, Bourrienne, always ask me. If I refuse, it’s because I really can’t do anything about it."







      I despatched at my own expense an extraordinary courier, who arrived in
      time to save M. Defeu's life. His mother, whose only son he was, and M.
      Blanchet, his uncle, came purposely from Sens to Paris to express their
      gratitude to me. I saw tears of joy fall from the eyes of a mother who had
      appeared to be destined to shed bitter drops, and I said to her as I felt,
      "that I was amply recompensed by the success which had attended my
      efforts."
    
I sent a special courier at my own expense, who arrived just in time to save M. Defeu's life. His mother, his only living parent, and M. Blanchet, his uncle, came all the way from Sens to Paris to thank me. I saw tears of joy streaming down a mother’s face, who seemed destined to cry only sorrowful tears, and I told her sincerely that I felt fully rewarded by the success of my efforts.







      Emboldened by this success, and by the benevolent language of the First
      Consul, I ventured to request the pardon of M. de Frotte, who was strongly
      recommended to me by most honourable persons. Comte Louis de Frotte had at
      first opposed all negotiation for the pacification of La Vendée. At
      length, by a series of unfortunate combats, he was, towards the end of
      January, reduced to the necessity of making himself the advances which he
      had rejected when made by others. At this period he addressed a letter to
      General Guidal, in which he offered pacificatory proposals. A protection
      to enable him to repair to Alençon was transmitted to him. Unfortunately
      for M. de Frotte, he did not confine himself to writing to General Guidal,
      for whilst the safe-conduct which he had asked was on the way to him, he
      wrote to his lieutenants, advising them not to submit or consent to be
      disarmed. This letter was intercepted. It gave all the appearance of a
      fraudulent stratagem to his proposal to treat for peace. Besides, this
      opinion appeared to be confirmed by a manifesto of M. de Frotte, anterior,
      it is true, to the offers of pacification, but in which he announced to
      all his partisans the approaching end of Bonaparte's "criminal
      enterprise."
    
Encouraged by this success and the supportive words from the First Consul, I decided to request a pardon for M. de Frotte, who had been highly recommended to me by many respectable individuals. Comte Louis de Frotte had initially opposed any negotiations to settle the conflict in La Vendée. However, after a series of unfortunate battles, by the end of January, he found himself needing to make the overtures he had previously rejected when offered by others. During this time, he sent a letter to General Guidal, proposing peaceful terms. A protection letter to allow him to travel to Alençon was sent to him. Unfortunately for M. de Frotte, he didn't limit himself to communicating with General Guidal. While the safe-conduct he had requested was on its way to him, he wrote to his lieutenants, instructing them not to surrender or agree to disarm. This letter was intercepted, giving the impression that his peace proposal was part of a deceptive ploy. Furthermore, this perception was supported by a manifesto from M. de Frotte, which, although issued before his offers for peace, declared to all his supporters the imminent downfall of Bonaparte's "criminal enterprise."







      I had more trouble than in M. Defeu's case to induce the First Consul to
      exercise his clemency. However, I pressed him so much, I laboured so hard
      to convince him of the happy effect of such indulgence, that at length I
      obtained an order to suspend the judgment. What a lesson I then
      experienced of the evil which may result from the loss of time! Not
      supposing that matters were so far advanced as they were, I did not
      immediately send off the courier with the order for the suspension of the
      judgment. Besides, the Minister-of-Police had marked his victim, and he
      never lost time when evil was to be done. Having, therefore, I know not
      for what motive, resolved on the destruction of M. de Frotte, he sent an
      order to hasten his trial.
    
I had a harder time than M. Defeu did convincing the First Consul to show mercy. However, I pressed him constantly and worked hard to persuade him of the positive effects of such leniency, and eventually, I got an order to suspend the judgment. That experience taught me a valuable lesson about the consequences of wasting time! Not realizing how advanced the situation was, I didn’t immediately send off the courier with the order to suspend the judgment. Plus, the Minister of Police had marked his target, and he never wasted time when it came to wrongdoing. So, for reasons I don’t understand, he decided on the destruction of M. de Frotte and sent an order to speed up his trial.







      Comte Louis de Frotte was brought to trial on the 28th Pluviôse, condemned
      the same day, and executed the next morning, the day before we entered the
      Tuileries. The cruel precipitation of the Minister rendered the result of
      my solicitations abortive. I had reason to think that after the day on
      which the First Consul granted me the order for delay he had received some
      new accusation against M. de Frotte, for when he heard of his death he
      appeared to me very indifferent about the tardy arrival of the order for
      suspending judgment. He merely said to me, with unusual insensibility,
      "You should take your measures better. You see it is not my fault."
    
Comte Louis de Frotte was put on trial on the 28th Pluviôse, sentenced the same day, and executed the next morning, just before we entered the Tuileries. The ruthless urgency of the Minister made my efforts useless. I had reason to believe that after the First Consul granted me the delay order, he received some new information against M. de Frotte, because when he heard about his death, he seemed quite indifferent about the late arrival of the order to suspend the judgment. He simply said to me, with unusual lack of feeling, "You should plan better. You see, it’s not my fault."







      Though Bonaparte put no faith in the virtue of men, he had confidence in
      their honour. I had proof of this in a matter which deserves to be
      recorded in history. When, during the first period of our abode at the
      Tuileries, he had summoned the principal chiefs of La Vendée to endeavour
      to bring about the pacification of that unhappy country, he received
      Georges Cadoudal in a private audience. The disposition in which I beheld
      him the evening before the day appointed for this audience inspired me
      with the most flattering hopes. Rapp introduced Georges into the grand
      salon looking into the garden. Rapp left him alone with the First Consul,
      but on returning to the cabinet where I was he did not close either of the
      two doors of the state bedchamber which separated the cabinet from the
      salon. We saw the First Consul and Georges walk from the window to the
      bottom of the salon—then return—then go back again. This
      lasted for a long time. The conversation appeared very animated, and we
      heard several things, but without any connection. There was occasionally a
      good deal of ill-humour displayed in their tone and gestures. The
      interview ended in nothing. The First Consul, perceiving that Georges
      entertained some apprehensions for his personal safety, gave him
      assurances of security in the most noble manner, saying, "You take a wrong
      view of things, and are wrong in not coming to some understanding; but if
      you persist in wishing to return to your country you shall depart as
      freely as you came to Paris." When Bonaparte returned to his cabinet he
      said to Rapp, "Tell me, Rapp, why you left these doors open, and stopped
      with Bourrienne?" Rapp replied, "If you had closed the doors I would have
      opened them again. Do you think I would have left you alone with a man
      like that? There would have been danger in it."—"No, Rapp," said
      Bonaparte, "you cannot think so." When we were alone the First Consul
      appeared pleased with Rapp's attachment, but very vexed at Georges'
      refusal. He said, "He does not take a correct view of things; but the
      extravagance of his principles has its source in noble sentiments, which
      must give him great influence over his countrymen. It is necessary,
      however, to bring this business soon to an end."
    
Though Bonaparte didn't trust the goodness of people, he believed in their honor. I witnessed this in a situation worth remembering. During our early days at the Tuileries, he had called the main leaders of La Vendée to try to bring peace to that troubled region, and he met Georges Cadoudal privately. The way I saw him the night before the meeting made me very hopeful. Rapp brought Georges into the grand salon that overlooked the garden. Rapp left him alone with the First Consul, but when he returned to the room where I was, he didn't close either of the two doors that connected the cabinet to the salon. We watched as the First Consul and Georges moved from the window to the end of the salon—then back—then back again. This went on for quite a while. Their conversation seemed very lively, and we caught bits and pieces, but nothing made sense together. At times, there was a noticeable amount of irritation in their tone and gestures. The meeting didn't lead to anything. The First Consul, noticing that Georges was worried about his safety, assured him of his security in a very generous way, saying, "You're misinterpreting things, and you're mistaken not to reach some kind of agreement; but if you insist on going back to your country, you can leave just as easily as you came to Paris." When Bonaparte got back to his cabinet, he asked Rapp, "Why did you leave those doors open and stay with Bourrienne?" Rapp responded, "If you'd closed the doors, I would have opened them again. Do you think I would have left you alone with someone like that? That would be dangerous." Bonaparte replied, "No, Rapp, you can't honestly believe that." Once we were alone, the First Consul seemed pleased with Rapp's loyalty, but very frustrated with Georges' refusal. He said, "He doesn't see things clearly; but the absurdity of his principles comes from noble feelings, which must give him significant influence over his fellow countrymen. However, we need to wrap this up soon."







      Of all the actions of Louis XIV. that which Bonaparte most admired was his
      having made the Doge of Genoa send ambassadors to Paris to apologise to
      him. The slightest insult offered in a foreign country to the rights and
      dignity of France put Napoleon beside himself. This anxiety to have the
      French Government respected exhibited itself in an affair which made much
      noise at the period, but which was amicably arranged by the soothing
      influence of gold.
    
Of all the actions of Louis XIV, the one Bonaparte admired the most was when he had the Doge of Genoa send ambassadors to Paris to apologize to him. Even the smallest insult to the rights and dignity of France in a foreign country would drive Napoleon wild. His concern for having the French government respected showed in an incident that made a lot of headlines at the time, but it was resolved smoothly through the comforting power of money.







      Two Irishmen, Napper Tandy and Blackwell, who had been educated in France,
      and whose names and rank as officers appeared in the French army list, had
      retired to Hamburg. The British Government claimed them as traitors to
      their country, and they were given up; but, as the French Government held
      them to be subjects of France, the transaction gave rise to bitter
      complaints against the Senate of Hamburg.
    
Two Irishmen, Napper Tandy and Blackwell, who were educated in France and listed as officers in the French army, had retired to Hamburg. The British Government labeled them as traitors to their country, and they were handed over; however, the French Government considered them subjects of France, which led to intense complaints against the Senate of Hamburg.







      Blackwell had been one of the leaders of the united Irishmen. He had
      procured his naturalisation in France, and had attained the rank of chef
      d'escadron. Being sent on a secret mission to Norway, the ship in which he
      was embarked was wrecked on the coast of that kingdom. He then repaired to
      Hamburg, where the Senate placed him under arrest on the demand of Mr.
      Crawford, the English Minister. After being detained in prison a whole
      year he was conveyed to England to be tried. The French Government
      interfered, and preserved, if not his liberty, at least his life.
    
Blackwell had been one of the leaders of the United Irishmen. He had secured his naturalization in France and had reached the rank of Squadron Leader. When he was sent on a secret mission to Norway, the ship he was on was wrecked off the coast of that country. He then went to Hamburg, where the Senate arrested him at the request of Mr. Crawford, the British Minister. After spending a whole year in prison, he was taken to England to stand trial. The French government intervened, and managed to protect, if not his freedom, at least his life.







      Napper Tandy was also an Irishman. To escape the search made after him, on
      account of the sentiments of independence which had induced him to engage
      in the contest for the liberty of his country, he got on board a French
      brig, intending to land at Hamburg and pass into Sweden. Being exempted
      from the amnesty by the Irish Parliament, he was claimed by the British
      Government, and the Senators of Hamburg forgot honour and humanity in
      their alarm at the danger which at that moment menaced their little
      republic both from England and France. The Senate delivered up Napper
      Tandy; he was carried to Ireland, and condemned to death, but owed the
      suspension of his execution to the interference of France. He remained two
      years in prison, when M. Otto, who negotiated with Lord Hawkesbury the
      preliminaries of peace, obtained the release of Napper Tandy, who was sent
      back to France.
    
Napper Tandy was also Irish. To escape the manhunt after him, because of his independence beliefs that led him to fight for his country's freedom, he boarded a French brig, planning to land in Hamburg and then go to Sweden. Since he was excluded from the amnesty by the Irish Parliament, the British Government claimed him, and the Senators of Hamburg prioritized their own safety over honor and humanity in the face of the threats to their small republic from both England and France. The Senate handed over Napper Tandy; he was taken back to Ireland and sentenced to death, but his execution was postponed due to France's intervention. He spent two years in prison until M. Otto, who was in talks with Lord Hawkesbury about peace terms, secured Napper Tandy's release, and he was sent back to France.







      The First Consul spoke at first of signal vengeance; but the Senate of
      Hamburg sent him a memorial, justificatory of its conduct, and backed the
      apology with a sum of four millions and a half, which mollified him
      considerably. This was in some sort a recollection of Egypt—one of
      those little contributions with which the General had familiarised the
      pashas; with this difference, that on the present occasion not a single
      sous went into the national treasury. The sum was paid to the First Consul
      through the hands of M. Chapeau Rouge.
    
The First Consul initially talked about harsh revenge, but the Senate of Hamburg sent him a letter explaining their actions and sweetened the apology with a payment of four and a half million, which calmed him down a lot. This was somewhat reminiscent of Egypt—one of those small contributions that the General had made familiar to the pashas; with the key difference that in this case, not a single penny went to the national treasury. The amount was paid to the First Consul through M. Chapeau Rouge.






 —[A solemn deputation from the Senate arrived at the Tuileries to
   make public apologies to Napoleon. He again testified his
   indignation: and when the envoys urged their weakness he said to
   them. "Well and had you not the resource of weak states? was it not
   in your power to let them escape?" (Napoleon's Memoirs).]— 
 —[A formal delegation from the Senate arrived at the Tuileries to publicly apologize to Napoleon. He once again expressed his anger: and when the envoys mentioned their vulnerabilities, he responded to them, "Well, didn’t you have the support of weaker states? Wasn’t it in your power to allow them to escape?" (Napoleon's Memoirs).] 







      I kept the four millions and a half in Dutch bonds in a secretaire for a
      week. Bonaparte then determined to distribute them; after paying
      Josephine's debts, and the whole of the great expenses incurred at
      Malmaison, he dictated to me a list of persons to whom he wished to make
      presents. My name did not escape his lips, and consequently I had not the
      trouble to transcribe it; but some time after he said to me, with the most
      engaging kindness, "Bourrienne, I have given you none of the money which
      came from Hamburg, but I will make you amends for it." He took from his
      drawer a large and broad sheet of printed paper, with blanks filled up in
      his own handwriting, and said to me, "Here is a bill for 300,000 Italian
      livres on the Cisalpine Republic, for the price of cannon furnished. It is
      endorsed Halter and Collot—I give it you." To make this understood,
      I ought to state that cannon had been sold to the Cisalpine Republic, for
      the value of which the Administrator-general of the Italian finances drew
      on the Republic, and the bills were paid over to M. Collot, a provision
      contractor, and other persons. M. Collot had given one of these bills for
      300,000 livres to Bonaparte in quittance of a debt, but the latter had
      allowed the bill to run out without troubling himself about it. The
      Cisalpine Republic kept the cannons and the money, and the First Consul
      kept his bill. When I had examined it I said, "General, it has been due
      for a long time; why have you not got it paid? The endorsers are no longer
      liable."—"France is bound to discharge debts of this kind;" said he;
      "send the paper to de Fermont: he will discount it for three per cent. You
      will not have in ready money more than about 9000 francs of rentes,
      because the Italian livre is not equal to the franc." I thanked him, and
      sent the bill to M. de Fermont. He replied that the claim was bad, and
      that the bill would not be liquidated because it did not come within the
      classifications made by the laws passed in the months the names of which
      terminated in 'aire, ose, al, and or'.
    
I kept the four and a half million in Dutch bonds in a desk for a week. Bonaparte then decided to distribute them; after paying Josephine's debts and all the significant expenses at Malmaison, he dictated a list of people he wanted to give gifts to. My name didn’t come up, so I didn’t have to write it down; but some time later, he said to me, with remarkable kindness, “Bourrienne, I haven’t given you any of the money that came from Hamburg, but I will make it up to you.” He took out a large sheet of printed paper from his drawer, with some portions filled in by hand, and said, “Here’s a bill for 300,000 Italian livres from the Cisalpine Republic for the price of cannons supplied. It’s endorsed Halter and Collot—I’m giving it to you.” To clarify, I should mention that cannons had been sold to the Cisalpine Republic, for which the Administrator-General of Italian finances issued a draft on the Republic, and the bills were transferred to Mr. Collot, a supplier, and others. Mr. Collot had given one of these bills for 300,000 livres to Bonaparte to settle a debt, but Bonaparte had let the bill expire without taking action. The Cisalpine Republic kept the cannons and the money, while the First Consul kept his bill. After reviewing it, I said, “General, it’s been overdue for a long time; why haven’t you collected it? The endorsers aren’t liable anymore.” He replied, “France is responsible for settling debts like this; send the paper to de Fermont: he will discount it for three percent. You won’t get more than about 9,000 francs in cash because the Italian livre isn’t equal to the franc.” I thanked him and sent the bill to Mr. de Fermont. He responded that the claim was invalid, and the bill wouldn’t be honored because it didn’t fall under the classifications established by the laws passed in the months that end with 'aire, ose, al, and or.'







      I showed M. de Fermont's answer to the First Consul, who said, "Ah, bah!
      He understands nothing about it—he is wrong: write." He then
      dictated a letter, which promised very favourably for the discounting of
      the bill; but the answer was a fresh refusal. I said, "General, M. de
      Fermont does not attend to you any more than to myself." Bonaparte took
      the letter, read it, and said, in the tone of a man who knew beforehand
      what he was about to be informed of, "Well, what the devil would you have
      me do, since the laws are opposed to it? Persevere; follow the usual modes
      of liquidation, and something will come of it!" What finally happened was,
      that by a regular decree this bill was cancelled, torn, and deposited in
      the archives. These 300,000 livres formed part of the money which
      Bonaparte brought from Italy. If the bill was useless to me it was also
      useless to him. This scrap of paper merely proves that he brought more
      than 25,000 francs from Italy.
    
I showed M. de Fermont's response to the First Consul, who said, "Oh, come on! He doesn't get it—he's mistaken: write." He then dictated a letter that offered a very promising outlook for the bill's discounting, but the reply was another outright refusal. I said, "General, M. de Fermont is ignoring you just as much as he is ignoring me." Bonaparte took the letter, read it, and said, in a tone that indicated he already knew what he was about to hear, "Well, what the hell do you want me to do, since the laws are against it? Keep pushing; follow the usual ways of settling this, and something will come of it!" In the end, a formal decree declared the bill cancelled, ripped it up, and filed it away in the archives. This 300,000 livres was part of the money Bonaparte brought from Italy. If the bill was useless to me, it was also useless to him. This piece of paper simply shows that he brought back more than 25,000 francs from Italy.







      I never had, from the General-in-Chief of the army of Italy, nor from the
      General in-Chief of the army of Egypt, nor from the First Consul, for ten
      years, nor from the Consul for life, any fixed salary: I took from his
      drawer what was necessary for my expenses as well as his own. He never
      asked me for any account. After the transaction of the bill on the
      insolvent Cisalpine Republic he said to me, at the beginning of the winter
      of 1800, "Bourrienne, the weather is becoming very bad; I will go but
      seldom to Malmaison. Whilst I am at council get my papers and little
      articles from Malmaison; here is the key of my secretaire, take out
      everything that is there." I got into the carriage at two o'clock and
      returned at six. When he had dined I placed upon the table of his cabinet
      the various articles which I had found in his secretaire including 15,000
      francs (somewhere about L 600 of English money) in banknotes which were in
      the corner of a little drawer. When he looked at them he said, "Here is
      money—what is the meaning of this?" I replied, "I know nothing about
      it, except that it was in your secretaire."— "Oh yes; I had
      forgotten it. It was for my trifling expenses. Here, take it." I
      remembered well that one summer morning he had given me his key to bring
      him two notes of 1000 francs for some incidental expense, but I had no
      idea that he had not drawn further on his little treasure.
    
I never received a regular salary from the General-in-Chief of the army of Italy, the General in Chief of the army of Egypt, the First Consul for ten years, or the Consul for life. I took what I needed for my expenses from his drawer, as well as for his. He never asked me for an account. After dealing with the bill from the insolvent Cisalpine Republic, he said to me at the beginning of winter in 1800, "Bourrienne, the weather is getting worse; I won't go to Malmaison often. While I'm in council, get my papers and personal items from Malmaison; here’s the key to my desk, take out everything that's in there." I got into the carriage at two o'clock and returned at six. After dinner, I placed on the table in his office the various items I found in his desk, including 15,000 francs (around £600) in banknotes that were in a small drawer's corner. When he saw them, he said, "Here’s money—what’s this about?" I replied, "I don’t know anything about it, except that it was in your desk." He said, "Oh yes; I had forgotten it. It was for my little expenses. Here, take it." I clearly remembered that one summer morning he had given me his key to fetch him two 1,000-franc notes for some miscellaneous expense, but I had no idea he hadn’t taken anything else from his little stash.







      I have stated the appropriation of the four millions and a half, the
      result of the extortion inflicted on the Senate of Hamburg, in the affair
      of Napper Tandy and Blackwell.
    
I have mentioned the allocation of four and a half million, which is the outcome of the pressure imposed on the Senate of Hamburg in the matter of Napper Tandy and Blackwell.







      The whole, however, was not disposed of in presents. A considerable
      portion was reserved for paying Josephine's debts, and this business
      appears to me to deserve some remarks.
    
The whole thing, however, wasn’t all given away as gifts. A significant amount was set aside to pay off Josephine's debts, and I think this situation deserves some attention.







      The estate of Malmaison had cost 160,000 francs. Josephine had purchased
      it of M. Lecouteulx while we were in Egypt. Many embellishments, and some
      new buildings, had been made there; and a park had been added, which had
      now become beautiful. All this could not be done for nothing, and besides,
      it was very necessary that what was due for the original purchase should
      be entirely discharged; and this considerable item was not the only debt
      of Josephine. The creditors murmured, which had a bad effect in Paris; and
      I confess I was so well convinced that the First Consul would be extremely
      displeased that I constantly delayed the moment of speaking to him on the
      subject. It was therefore with extreme satisfaction I learned that M. de
      Talleyrand had anticipated me. No person was more capable than himself of
      gilding the pill, as one may say, to Bonaparte. Endowed with as much
      independence of character as of mind, he did him the service, at the risk
      of offending him, to tell him that a great number of creditors expressed
      their discontent in bitter complaints respecting the debts contracted by
      Madame Bonaparte during his expedition to the East. Bonaparte felt that
      his situation required him promptly to remove the cause of such
      complaints. It was one night about half-past eleven o'clock that M.
      Talleyrand introduced this delicate subject. As soon he was gone I entered
      the little cabinet; Bonaparte said to me, "Bourrienne, Talleyrand has been
      speaking to me about the debts of my wife. I have the money from Hamburg—ask
      her the exact amount of her debts: let her confess all. I wish to finish,
      and not begin again. But do not pay without showing me the bills of those
      rascals: they are a gang of robbers."
    
The Malmaison estate cost 160,000 francs. Josephine bought it from M. Lecouteulx while we were in Egypt. Many enhancements and some new buildings had been added, and a park was created, which had now become beautiful. All of this came at a cost, and it was essential to settle the amount owed for the original purchase; this significant expense was not Josephine's only debt. The creditors were complaining, which created a negative impression in Paris, and I honestly believed the First Consul would be very displeased, so I kept putting off talking to him about it. Therefore, I was extremely relieved to hear that M. de Talleyrand had brought it up first. No one was better at easing such news, so to speak, to Bonaparte. With a strong sense of both independence and intellect, he took the risk of offending Bonaparte by informing him that many creditors were voicing their dissatisfaction with the debts incurred by Madame Bonaparte during his Eastern expedition. Bonaparte realized that he needed to quickly address the source of these complaints. One night around half-past eleven, M. Talleyrand broached this sensitive topic. As soon as he left, I went into the small office; Bonaparte said to me, "Bourrienne, Talleyrand has mentioned my wife's debts. I have the money from Hamburg—ask her for the exact total of her debts: let her admit everything. I want to wrap this up, not start over. But don't pay without showing me the bills from those swindlers: they're a bunch of thieves."







      Hitherto the apprehension of an unpleasant scene, the very idea of which
      made Josephine tremble, had always prevented me from broaching this
      subject to the First Consul; but, well pleased that Talleyrand had first
      touched upon it, I resolved to do all in my power to put an end to the
      disagreeable affair.
    
Until now, the thought of an unpleasant situation, which made Josephine shudder, has always stopped me from bringing this topic up with the First Consul. But since I was glad that Talleyrand had mentioned it first, I decided to do everything I could to resolve this awkward matter.







      The next morning I saw Josephine. She was at first delighted with her
      husband's intentions; but this feeling did not last long. When I asked her
      for an exact account of what she owed she entreated me not to press it,
      but content myself with what she should confess. I said to her, "Madame, I
      cannot deceive you respecting the disposition of the First Consul. He
      believes that you owe a considerable sum, and is willing to discharge it.
      You will, I doubt not, have to endure some bitter reproaches, and a
      violent scene; but the scene will be just the same for the whole as for a
      part. If you conceal a large proportion of your debts at the end of some
      time murmurs will recommence, they will reach the ears of the First
      Consul, and his anger will display itself still more strikingly. Trust to
      me—state all; the result will be the same; you will hear but once
      the disagreeable things he will say to you; by reservations you will renew
      them incessantly." Josephine said, "I can never tell all; it is
      impossible. Do me the service to keep secret what I say to you. I owe, I
      believe, about 1,200,000 francs, but I wish to confess only 600,000; I
      will contract no more debts, and will pay the rest little by little out of
      my savings."—"Here, Madame, my first observations recur. As I do not
      believe he estimates your debts at so high a sum as 600,000 francs, I can
      warrant that you will not experience more displeasure for acknowledging to
      1,200,000 than to 600,000; and by going so far you will get rid of them
      for ever."—"I can never do it, Bourrienne; I know him; I can never
      support his violence." After a quarter of an hour's further discussion on
      the subject I was obliged to yield to her earnest solicitation, and
      promise to mention only the 600,000 francs to the First Consul.
    
The next morning, I saw Josephine. At first, she was thrilled with her husband's intentions, but that feeling didn’t last long. When I asked her for an exact account of what she owed, she begged me not to push it and to be satisfied with what she chose to share. I told her, "Madame, I can't mislead you about the First Consul's mindset. He believes you owe a significant amount, and he's willing to take care of it. I have no doubt you'll face some harsh criticism and an intense scene; however, whether it's about the whole amount or a part, the reaction will be the same. If you hide a large portion of your debts, eventually the whispers will start again, and they will reach the First Consul, making his anger even more apparent. Trust me—be honest; the outcome will be the same. You'll only hear the unpleasant things he says once; by holding back, you'll have to face them over and over." Josephine replied, "I can never reveal everything; it's impossible. Please keep secret what I tell you. I believe I owe about 1,200,000 francs, but I only want to confess to 600,000; I won’t take on more debt, and I’ll slowly pay off the rest with my savings." I said, "Madame, my initial thoughts come back to mind. Since I don't think he sees your debts as high as 600,000 francs, I can assure you that admitting to 1,200,000 won't bring you any more displeasure than admitting to 600,000; by going all the way, you’ll be free of this issue for good." She insisted, "I can never do it, Bourrienne; I know him; I can’t withstand his rage." After another fifteen minutes of discussion, I had to give in to her strong request and promised to only mention the 600,000 francs to the First Consul.







      The anger and ill-humour of Bonaparte may be imagined. He strongly
      suspected that his wife was dissembling in some respect; but he said,
      "Well, take 600,000 francs, but liquidate the debts for that sum, and let
      me hear nothing more on the subject. I authorise you to threaten these
      tradesmen with paying nothing if they do not reduce their enormous
      charges. They ought to be taught not to be so ready in giving credit."
      Madame Bonaparte gave me all her bills. The extent to which the articles
      had been overcharged, owing to the fear of not being paid for a long
      period, and of deductions being made from the amount, was inconceivable.
      It appeared to me, also, that there must be some exaggeration in the
      number of articles supplied. I observed in the milliner's bill
      thirty-eight new hats, of great price, in one month. There was likewise a
      charge of 1800 francs for heron plumes, and 800 francs for perfumes. I
      asked Josephine whether she wore out two hats in one day? She objected to
      this charge for the hats, which she merely called a mistake. The
      impositions which the saddler attempted, both in the extravagance of his
      prices and in charging for articles which he had not furnished, were
      astonishing. I need say nothing of the other tradesmen, it was the same
      system of plunder throughout.
    
Bonaparte's anger and bad mood were easy to picture. He strongly suspected that his wife was being dishonest in some way, but he said, "Fine, take 600,000 francs, but use that amount to pay off the debts, and I don’t want to hear anything more about it. I give you permission to threaten these merchants with not getting paid at all if they don't lower their ridiculous prices. They need to learn not to be so quick to offer credit." Madame Bonaparte handed me all her bills. It was shocking how much everything had been marked up, probably because they were afraid they wouldn't get paid for a long time and might have to discount the total. I also thought there must be some exaggeration in the number of items listed. I noticed in the milliner's bill thirty-eight new expensive hats in just one month. There was also a charge of 1800 francs for heron feathers and 800 francs for perfumes. I asked Josephine if she really went through two hats in one day. She disputed the charge for the hats, calling it just a mistake. The overcharging by the saddler, both in the outrageous prices and in charging for items he hadn’t provided, was unbelievable. I need not mention the other tradesmen; it was the same pattern of theft everywhere.







      I availed myself fully of the First Consul's permission, and spared
      neither reproaches nor menaces. I am ashamed to say that the greater part
      of the tradesmen were contented with the half of what they demanded. One
      of them received 35,000 francs for a bill of 80,000; and he had the
      impudence to tell me that he made a good profit nevertheless. Finally, I
      was fortunate enough, after the most vehement disputes, to settle
      everything for 600,000 francs. Madame Bonaparte, however, soon fell again
      into the same excesses, but fortunately money became more plentiful. This
      inconceivable mania of spending money was almost the sole cause of her
      unhappiness. Her thoughtless profusion occasioned permanent disorder in
      her household until the period of Bonaparte's second marriage, when, I am
      informed, she became regular in her expenditure. I could not say so of her
      when she was Empress in 1804.
    
I took full advantage of the First Consul’s permission and didn’t hold back on criticisms or threats. I'm embarrassed to say that most of the tradespeople were satisfied with getting only half of what they asked for. One of them took 35,000 francs for a bill of 80,000, and he even had the nerve to say he still made a good profit. In the end, I managed to settle everything for 600,000 francs after some very heated arguments. However, Madame Bonaparte soon fell back into the same spending habits, though luckily money became more available. This unbelievable obsession with spending was almost the main reason for her unhappiness. Her careless extravagance caused ongoing chaos in her household until Bonaparte's second marriage, when I’m told she became more disciplined with her spending. I can’t say the same about her when she was Empress in 1804.






 —[Notwithstanding her husband's wish, she could never bring her
   establishment into any order or rule. He wished that no tradesmen
   should ever reach her, but he was forced to yield on this point.
   The small inner rooms were filled with them, as with artists of all
   sorts. She had a mania for having herself painted, and gave her
   portraits to whoever wished for one, relations, 'femmes de chambre',
   even to tradesmen. They never ceased bringing her diamonds, jewels,
   shawls, materials for dresses, and trinkets of all kinds; she bought
   everything without ever asking the price; and generally forgot what
   she had purchased. . . All the morning she had on a shawl which
   she draped on her shoulders with a grace I have seen in no one else.
   Bonaparte, who thought her shawls covered her too much, tore them
   off, and sometimes threw them into the fire; then she sent for
   another (Rémusat, tome ii. pp. 343-345). After the divorce her
   income, large as it was, was insufficient, but the Emperor was more
   compassionate then, and when sending the Comte Mollien to settle her
   affairs gave him strict orders "not to make her weep" (Meneval,
   tome iii. p.237)]— 
—[Despite her husband's wishes, she could never organize her life or follow any rules. He wanted to keep all tradespeople away from her, but he had to give in on this. The small inner rooms were packed with them, along with all kinds of artists. She had a fixation on being painted and gave her portraits to anyone who wanted one: relatives, maids, even tradespeople. They constantly brought her diamonds, jewels, shawls, dress materials, and all sorts of trinkets; she bought everything without ever asking the price and often forgot what she had bought... All morning, she wore a shawl that she draped over her shoulders with a grace I'd never seen in anyone else. Bonaparte, who thought her shawls were too covering, would rip them off and sometimes toss them into the fire; then she would call for another (Rémusat, tome ii. pp. 343-345). After the divorce, her income, though sizable, wasn't enough, but the Emperor was kinder then and, when he sent Comte Mollien to manage her affairs, he gave him strict instructions "not to make her cry" (Meneval, tome iii. p.237)]—







      The amiable Josephine had not less ambition in little things than her
      husband had in great. She felt pleasure in acquiring and not in
      possessing. Who would suppose it? She grew tired of the beauty of the park
      of Malmaison, and was always asking me to take her out on the high road,
      either in the direction of Nanterre, or on that of Marly, in the midst of
      the dust occasioned by the passing of carriages. The noise of the high
      road appeared to her preferable to the calm silence of the beautiful
      avenues of the park, and in this respect Hortense had the same taste as
      her mother. This whimsical fancy astonished Bonaparte, and he was
      sometimes vexed at it. My intercourse with Josephine was delightful; for I
      never saw a woman who so constantly entered society with such an equable
      disposition, or with so much of the spirit of kindness, which is the first
      principle of amiability. She was so obligingly attentive as to cause a
      pretty suite of apartments to be prepared at Malmaison for me and my
      family.
    
The friendly Josephine had just as much ambition in small things as her husband did in big ones. She took joy in gaining new experiences rather than just having them. Who would have thought? She grew weary of the beauty of the Malmaison park and constantly asked me to take her out onto the main road, either towards Nanterre or Marly, amid the dust kicked up by passing carriages. She preferred the noise of the busy road to the quiet serenity of the park's lovely paths, and in this way, Hortense shared her mother's taste. This quirky preference baffled Bonaparte, and it sometimes annoyed him. My time with Josephine was delightful; I had never met a woman who so consistently engaged with society with such a calm demeanor or so much kindness, which is the foundation of being likable. She was so graciously attentive that she arranged for a lovely set of rooms to be prepared for me and my family at Malmaison.







      She pressed me earnestly, and with all her known grace, to accept it; but
      almost as much a captive at Paris as a prisoner of state, I wished to have
      to myself in the country the moments of liberty I was permitted to enjoy.
      Yet what was this liberty? I had bought a little house at Ruel, which I
      kept during two years and a half. When I saw my friends there, it had to
      be at midnight, or at five o'clock in the morning; and the First Consul
      would often send for me in the night when couriers arrived. It was for
      this sort of liberty I refused Josephine's kind offer. Bonaparte came once
      to see me in my retreat at Ruel, but Josephine and Hortense came often. It
      was a favourite walk with these ladies.
    
She urged me sincerely, with all her usual charm, to accept it; but feeling as much trapped in Paris as someone imprisoned by the state, I wanted to savor the moments of freedom I could have in the countryside. But what was this freedom really? I had bought a small house in Ruel, which I kept for two and a half years. When I met my friends there, it had to be at midnight or five in the morning; and the First Consul would often call for me at night when couriers arrived. It was for this kind of freedom that I turned down Josephine's generous offer. Bonaparte visited me once at my retreat in Ruel, but Josephine and Hortense came often. It was a favorite stroll for these ladies.







      At Paris I was less frequently absent from Bonaparte than at Malmaison. We
      sometimes in the evening walked together in the garden of the Tuileries
      after the gates were closed. In these evening walks he always wore a gray
      greatcoat, and a round hat. I was directed to answer, "The First Consul,"
      to the sentinel's challenge of, "Who goes there?" These promenades, which
      were of much benefit to Bonaparte, and me also, as a relaxation from our
      labours, resembled those which we had at Malmaison. As to our promenades
      in the city, they were often very amusing.
    
At Paris, I spent less time away from Bonaparte than I did at Malmaison. Sometimes in the evenings, we would walk together in the Tuileries garden after the gates had closed. During these evening walks, he always wore a gray greatcoat and a round hat. I was instructed to respond with "The First Consul" when the sentinel asked, "Who goes there?" These walks were beneficial for both Bonaparte and me, providing a break from our work, similar to the ones we had at Malmaison. Our walks around the city were often quite entertaining.







      At the period of our first inhabiting the Tuileries, when I saw Bonaparte
      enter the cabinet at eight o'clock in the evening in his gray coat, I knew
      he would say, "Bourrienne, come and take a turn." Sometimes, then, instead
      of going out by the garden arcade, we would take the little gate which
      leads from the court to the apartments of the Duc d'Angoulême. He would
      take my arm, and we would go to buy articles of trifling value in the
      shops of the Rue St. Honoré; but we did not extend our excursions farther
      than Rue de l'Arbre Sec. Whilst I made the shopkeeper exhibit before us
      the articles which I appeared anxious to buy he played his part in asking
      questions.
    
At the time we first moved into the Tuileries, whenever I saw Bonaparte walk into the office at eight in the evening wearing his gray coat, I knew he would say, "Bourrienne, come and take a walk." Sometimes, instead of going out through the garden arcade, we would use the small gate that leads from the courtyard to the Duc d'Angoulême's apartments. He would take my arm, and we'd go buy inexpensive items in the shops on Rue St. Honoré; but we didn’t venture any farther than Rue de l'Arbre Sec. While I pretended to be interested in buying things and made the shopkeeper show us his goods, he played along by asking questions.







      Nothing was more amusing than to see him endeavouring to imitate the
      careless and jocular tone of the young men of fashion. How awkward was he
      in the attempt to put on dandy airs when pulling up the corners of his
      cravat he would say, "Well, Madame, is there anything new to-day? Citizen,
      what say they of Bonaparte? Your shop appears to be well supplied. You
      surely have a great deal of custom. What do people say of that buffoon,
      Bonaparte?" He was made quite happy one day when we were obliged to retire
      hastily from a shop to avoid the attacks drawn upon us by the irreverent
      tone in which Bonaparte spoke of the First Consul.
    
Nothing was more entertaining than watching him try to mimic the carefree and playful style of the fashionable young men. He was so clumsy in his attempt to act like a dandy; while adjusting his cravat, he would say, "Well, Madame, is there anything new today? Citizen, what do they say about Bonaparte? Your shop seems to be well-stocked. You must have a lot of customers. What are people saying about that clown, Bonaparte?" He felt genuinely happy one day when we had to quickly leave a shop to escape the trouble caused by the irreverent way Bonaparte spoke about the First Consul.








 


 




















      CHAPTER XXXIV.
    



      1800.
    
1800.


   War and monuments—Influence of the recollections of Egypt—
   First improvements in Paris—Malmaison too little—St. Cloud taken
   —The Pont des Arts—Business prescribed for me by Bonaparte—
   Pecuniary remuneration—The First Consul's visit to the Pritanée—
   His examination of the pupils—Consular pensions—Tragical death of
   Miackzinski—Introduction of vaccination—Recall of the members of
   the Constituent Assembly—The "canary" volunteers—Tronchet and
   Target—Liberation of the Austrian prisoners—Longchamps and sacred
   music.

   War and monuments—Influence of the memories of Egypt—  
   Initial improvements in Paris—Malmaison isn't enough—St. Cloud captured—  
   The Pont des Arts—Tasks assigned to me by Bonaparte—  
   Financial compensation—The First Consul's visit to the Pritanée—  
   His assessment of the students—Consular pensions—Tragic death of  
   Miackzinski—Introduction of vaccination—Reinstatement of the members of  
   the Constituent Assembly—The "canary" volunteers—Tronchet and  
   Target—Release of the Austrian prisoners—Longchamps and sacred  
   music.







      The destruction of men and the construction of monuments were two things
      perfectly in unison in the mind of Bonaparte. It may be said that his
      passion for monuments almost equalled his passion for war;
    
The destruction of men and the building of monuments were two things that perfectly aligned in Bonaparte's mind. It could be said that his passion for monuments was almost equal to his passion for war;






 —[Take pleasure, if you can, in reading your returns. The good
   condition of my armies is owing to my devoting to them one or two
   hours in every day. When the monthly returns of my armies and of my
   fleets, which form twenty thick volumes, are sent to me, I give up
   every other occupation in order to read them in detail and to
   observe the difference between one monthly return and another.
   No young girl enjoys her novel so much as I do these returns!
   (Napoleon to Joseph, 20th August 1806—Du Casse, tome iii.
   p. 145).]— 
—[Enjoy, if you can, reading your updates. The good condition of my armies is due to me spending one or two hours each day on them. When the monthly updates of my armies and fleets, which make up twenty thick volumes, are sent to me, I set aside all other tasks to read them thoroughly and compare one monthly update to another. No young girl enjoys her novel as much as I enjoy these updates! (Napoleon to Joseph, 20th August 1806—Du Casse, tome iii. p. 145).]—







      but as in all things he disliked what was little and mean, so he liked
      vast constructions and great battles. The sight of the colossal ruins of
      the monuments of Egypt had not a little contributed to augment his natural
      taste for great structures. It was not so much the monuments themselves
      that he admired, but the historical recollections they perpetuate, the
      great names they consecrate, the important events they attest. What should
      he have cared for the column which we beheld on our arrival in Alexandria
      had it not been Pompey's pillar? It is for artists to admire or censure
      its proportions and ornaments, for men of learning to explain its
      inscriptions; but the name of Pompey renders it an object of interest to
      all.
    
but just as he disliked anything small and petty, he was drawn to grand constructions and epic battles. The impressive ruins of Egypt's monuments only fueled his natural appreciation for large structures. It wasn't just the monuments themselves that captivated him, but the historical memories they hold, the great names they honor, and the significant events they signify. What would he care about the column we saw when we arrived in Alexandria if it weren’t Pompey's pillar? It's up to artists to admire or critique its shape and decorations, and scholars to interpret its inscriptions; but the name of Pompey makes it interesting to everyone.







      When endeavouring to sketch the character of Bonaparte, I ought to have
      noticed his taste for monuments, for without this characteristic trait
      something essential is wanting to the completion of the portrait. This
      taste, or, as it may more properly be called, this passion for monuments,
      exercised no small influence on his thoughts and projects of glory; yet it
      did not deter him from directing attention to public improvements of a
      less ostentatious kind. He wished for great monuments to perpetuate the
      recollection of his glory; but at the same time he knew how to appreciate
      all that was truly useful. He could very rarely be reproached for
      rejecting any plan without examination; and this examination was a speedy
      affair, for his natural tact enabled him immediately to see things in
      their proper light.
    
When trying to describe Bonaparte's character, I should have pointed out his love for monuments, because without this important trait, the portrait feels incomplete. This passion, or perhaps more accurately, this obsession with monuments, had a significant influence on his thoughts and ambitions for glory; however, it didn’t stop him from focusing on more practical public improvements. He wanted grand monuments to commemorate his achievements, but he also knew how to value things that were genuinely useful. He could rarely be criticized for dismissing any plan without giving it a look; and this review was usually quick, as his natural instinct allowed him to see things clearly right away.







      Though most of the monuments and embellishments of Paris are executed from
      the plans of men of talent, yet some owe their origin to circumstances
      merely accidental. Of this I can mention an example.
    
Though most of the monuments and decorations in Paris are designed by talented individuals, some actually come about because of random circumstances. I can give you an example of this.







      I was standing at the window of Bonaparte's' cabinet, which looked into
      the garden of the Tuileries. He had gone out, and I took advantage of his
      absence to arise from my chair, for I was tired of sitting. He had
      scarcely been gone a minute when he unexpectedly returned to ask me for a
      paper. "What are you doing there, Bourrienne? I'll wager anything you are
      admiring the ladies walking on the terrace."—"Why, I must confess I
      do sometimes amuse myself in that way," replied I; "but I assure you,
      General, I was now thinking of something else. I was looking at that
      villainous left bank of the Seine, which always annoys me with the gaps in
      its dirty quay, and the floodings which almost every winter prevent
      communication with the Faubourg St. Germain; and I was thinking I would
      speak to you on the subject." He approached the window, and, looking out,
      said, "You are right, it is very ugly; and very offensive to see dirty
      linen washed before our windows. Here, write immediately: 'The quay of the
      École de Natation is to be finished during next campaign.' Send that order
      to the Minister of the Interior." The quay was finished the year
      following.
    
I was standing at the window of Bonaparte's office, which overlooked the Tuileries garden. He had stepped out, and I seized the chance to get up from my chair because I was tired of sitting. He had barely been gone a minute when he unexpectedly came back to ask me for a paper. "What are you doing there, Bourrienne? I bet you're admiring the ladies on the terrace." — "I must admit I sometimes entertain myself that way," I replied, "but I assure you, General, I was actually thinking about something else. I was looking at that nasty left bank of the Seine, which always frustrates me with its dilapidated quays, and the floods that almost every winter disrupt communication with the Faubourg St. Germain; I was planning to talk to you about it." He moved closer to the window, and looking outside, he said, "You’re right, it’s very unattractive; and it’s quite offensive to see dirty laundry being washed right outside our windows. Here, write this immediately: 'The quay of the École de Natation is to be completed during the next campaign.' Send that order to the Minister of the Interior." The quay was completed the following year.







      An instance of the enormous difference which frequently appears between
      the original estimates of architects and their subsequent accounts I may
      mention what occurred in relation to the Palace of St. Cloud. But I must
      first say a word about the manner in which Bonaparte originally refused
      and afterwards took possession of the Queen's pleasure-house. Malmaison
      was a suitable country residence for Bonaparte as long as he remained
      content with his town apartments in the little Luxembourg; but that
      Consular 'bagatelle' was too confined in comparison with the spacious
      apartments in the Tuileries. The inhabitants of St. Cloud, well-advised,
      addressed a petition to the Legislative Body, praying that their deserted
      chateau might be made the summer residence of the First Consul. The
      petition was referred to the Government; but Bonaparte, who was not yet
      Consul for life, proudly declared that so long as he was at the head of
      affairs, and, indeed, for a year afterwards, he would accept no national
      recompense. Sometime after we went to visit the palace of the 18th
      Brumaire. Bonaparte liked it exceedingly, but all was in a state of
      complete dilapidation. It bore evident marks of the Revolution. The First
      Consul did not wish, as yet, to burden the budget of the State with his
      personal expenses, and he was alarmed at the enormous sum required to
      render St. Cloud habitable. Flattery had not yet arrived at the degree of
      proficiency which it subsequently attained; but even then his flatterers
      boldly assured him he might take possession of St. Cloud for 25,000
      francs. I told the First Consul that considering the ruinous state of the
      place, I could to say that the expense would amount to more than 1,200,000
      francs. Bonaparte determined to have a regular estimate of the expense,
      and it amounted to nearly 3,000,000. He thought it a great sum; but as he
      had resolved to make St. Cloud his residence he gave orders for commencing
      the repairs, the expense of which, independently of the furniture,
      amounted to 6,000,000. So much for the 3,000,000 of the architect and the
      25,000 francs of the flatterers.
    
An example of the huge gap that often appears between the initial estimates of architects and their later reports can be seen in what happened with the Palace of St. Cloud. But first, I need to mention how Bonaparte originally declined and then later took over the Queen's pleasure-house. Malmaison was a nice country home for Bonaparte as long as he was satisfied with his city apartments in the little Luxembourg; but that Consular 'bagatelle' was too cramped compared to the spacious rooms in the Tuileries. The residents of St. Cloud, wisely, sent a petition to the Legislative Body, asking that their abandoned chateau be made the summer residence of the First Consul. The petition was passed on to the Government; but Bonaparte, who was not yet Consul for life, proudly stated that as long as he was in charge and indeed for a year after that, he would accept no national compensation. Some time later, we visited the palace from the 18th Brumaire. Bonaparte really liked it, but everything was in complete disrepair. It clearly showed signs of the Revolution. The First Consul didn't want to burden the State budget with his personal expenses just yet, and he was worried about the huge amount needed to make St. Cloud livable. Flattery hadn’t yet reached the level it would later achieve; but even then, his flatterers boldly claimed he could take over St. Cloud for 25,000 francs. I told the First Consul that, considering the rundown condition of the place, I could say that the cost would be over 1,200,000 francs. Bonaparte decided to get an official estimate of the expense, and it came to nearly 3,000,000. He thought that was a lot of money; however, since he had made up his mind to make St. Cloud his home, he ordered the repairs to begin, which would cost, excluding the furniture, 6,000,000. So much for the 3,000,000 from the architect and the 25,000 francs from the flatterers.







      When the First Consul contemplated the building of the Pont des Arts we
      had a long conversation on the subject. I observed that it would be much
      better to build the bridge of stone. "The first object of monuments of
      this kind," said I, "is public utility. They require solidity of
      appearance, and their principal merit is duration. I cannot conceive,
      General, why, in a country where there is abundance of fine stone of every
      quality, the use of iron should be preferred."—"Write," said
      Bonaparte, "to Fontaine and Percier, the architects, and ask what they
      think of it." I wrote and they stated in their answer that "bridges were
      intended for public utility and the embellishment of cities. The projected
      bridge between the Louvre and the Quatre-Nations would unquestionably
      fulfil the first of these objects, as was proved by the great number of
      persons who daily crossed the Seine at that point in boats; that the site
      fixed upon between the Pont Neuf and the Tuileries appeared to be the best
      that could be chosen for the purpose; and that on the score of ornament
      Paris would gain little by the construction of an iron bridge, which would
      be very narrow, and which, from its light form, would not correspond with
      the grandeur of the two bridges between which it would be placed."
    
When the First Consul was considering the construction of the Pont des Arts, we had an extensive discussion about it. I noted that it would be much better to build the bridge out of stone. "The main purpose of monuments like this," I said, "is public utility. They need to look solid, and their main value is durability. I can't understand, General, why, in a country abundant with high-quality stone, iron would be the preferred material."—"Write," said Bonaparte, "to Fontaine and Percier, the architects, and see what they think." I wrote to them, and they replied that "bridges are meant for public utility and to enhance the beauty of cities. The planned bridge between the Louvre and the Quatre-Nations would definitely fulfill the first purpose, as shown by the many people who cross the Seine there daily by boat; that the chosen location between the Pont Neuf and the Tuileries seemed to be the best possible for this purpose; and that in terms of ornamentation, Paris wouldn’t gain much from building an iron bridge, which would be quite narrow and, due to its light structure, wouldn’t match the grandeur of the two existing bridges surrounding it."







      When we had received the answer of MM. Percier and Fontaine, we again had
      a conversation on the subject of the bridge. I told the First Consul that
      I perfectly concurred in the opinion of MM. Fontaine and Percier; however,
      he would have his own way, and thus was authorised the construction of the
      toy which formed a communication between the Louvre and the Institute. But
      no sooner was the Pont des Arts finished than Bonaparte pronounced it to
      be mean and out of keeping with the other bridges above and below it. One
      day when visiting the Louvre he stopped at one of the windows looking
      towards the Pont des Arts and said, "There is no solidity, no grandeur
      about that bridge. In England, where stone is scarce, it is very natural
      that iron should be used for arches of large dimensions. But the case is
      different in France, where the requisite material is abundant."
    
When we received the feedback from MM. Percier and Fontaine, we had another discussion about the bridge. I told the First Consul that I completely agreed with the opinions of MM. Fontaine and Percier; however, he insisted on his own vision, which led to the construction of the structure that connected the Louvre and the Institute. But as soon as the Pont des Arts was finished, Bonaparte deemed it to be unimpressive and out of place compared to the other bridges nearby. One day while visiting the Louvre, he stopped at a window overlooking the Pont des Arts and said, "That bridge has no solidity, no grandeur. In England, where stone is rare, it's quite normal to use iron for large arches. But that's not the case in France, where we have plenty of the necessary materials."







      The infernal machine of the 3d Nivôse, of which I shall presently speak
      more at length, was the signal for vast changes in the quarter of the
      Tuileries. That horrible attempt was at least so far attended by happy
      results that it contributed to the embellishment of Paris. It was thought
      more advisable for the Government to buy and pull down the houses which
      had been injured by the machine than to let them be put under repair. As
      an example of Bonaparte's grand schemes in building I may mention that,
      being one day at the Louvre, he pointed towards St. Germain l'Auxerrois
      and said to me, "That is where I will build an imperial street. It shall
      run from here to the Barrière du Trône. It shall be a hundred feet broad,
      and have arcades and plantations. This street shall be the finest in the
      world."
    
The destructive machine on the 3rd of Nivôse, which I will discuss in more detail shortly, marked the beginning of significant changes in the Tuileries area. That terrible incident at least led to some positive outcomes, as it helped beautify Paris. The Government decided it was better to buy and demolish the damaged buildings instead of repairing them. As an example of Bonaparte's ambitious building plans, I remember being at the Louvre one day when he pointed towards St. Germain l'Auxerrois and said to me, "That’s where I’ll construct an imperial street. It will stretch from here to the Barrière du Trône, be a hundred feet wide, and include arcades and greenery. This street will be the most beautiful in the world."







      The palace of the King of Rome, which was to face the Pont de Jena and the
      Champ de Mars, would have been in some measure isolated from Paris, with
      which, however, it was to be connected by a line of palaces. These were to
      extend along the quay, and were destined as splendid residences for the
      Ambassadors of foreign sovereigns, at least as long as there should be any
      sovereigns in Europe except Napoleon. The Temple of Glory, too, which was
      to occupy the site of the Church of la Madeleine, was never finished. If
      the plan of this monument proved the necessity, which Bonaparte felt of
      constantly holding out stimulants to his soldiers, its relinquishment was
      at least a proof of his wisdom. He who had reestablished religious worship
      in France, and had restored to its destination the church of the
      Invalides, which was for a time metamorphosed into the Temple of Mars,
      foresaw that a Temple of Glory would give birth to a sort of paganism
      incompatible with the ideas of the age.
    
The palace of the King of Rome, which was meant to face the Pont de Jena and the Champ de Mars, would have been somewhat isolated from Paris, although it was supposed to be connected by a line of palaces. These would stretch along the quay and were intended to be luxurious residences for the ambassadors of foreign rulers, at least as long as there were any rulers in Europe other than Napoleon. The Temple of Glory, which was set to be built on the site of the Church of la Madeleine, was never completed. While the concept of this monument showed Bonaparte's need to continually motivate his soldiers, its abandonment was at least a sign of his wisdom. He, who had reinstated religious worship in France and returned the church of the Invalides—temporarily transformed into the Temple of Mars—to its original purpose, anticipated that a Temple of Glory would lead to a kind of paganism incompatible with the ideas of the time.







      The recollection of the magnificent Necropolis of Cairo frequently
      recurred to Bonaparte's mind. He had admired that city of the dead, which
      he had partly contributed to people; and his design was to make, at the
      four cardinal points of Paris, four vast cemeteries on the plan of that at
      Cairo.
    
The memory of the stunning Necropolis of Cairo often came back to Bonaparte. He had admired that city of the dead, which he had helped fill; and his plan was to create four large cemeteries in Paris, one at each cardinal point, modeled after the one in Cairo.







      Bonaparte determined that all the new streets of Paris should be 40 feet
      wide, and be provided with foot-pavements; in short, he thought nothing
      too grand for the embellishment of the capital of a country which he
      wished to make the first in the world. Next to war, he regarded the
      embellishment of Paris as the source of his glory; and he never considered
      a victory fully achieved until he had raised a monument to transmit its
      memory to posterity. He, wanted glory, uninterrupted glory, for France as
      well as for himself. How often, when talking over his schemes, has he not
      said, "Bourrienne, it is for France I am doing all this! All I wish, all I
      desire, the end of all my labours is, that my name should be indissolubly
      connected with that of France!"
    
Bonaparte decided that all the new streets in Paris should be 40 feet wide and include sidewalks. He believed nothing was too extravagant for enhancing the capital of a nation he wanted to make the best in the world. Besides war, he saw beautifying Paris as a key to his legacy, and he never felt a victory was complete until he had erected a monument to preserve its memory for future generations. He wanted honor, continuous honor, for both France and himself. How often, while discussing his plans, did he not say, "Bourrienne, I'm doing all this for France! Everything I want, everything I desire, the goal of all my efforts is for my name to be forever linked with that of France!"







      Paris is not the only city, nor is France the only kingdom, which bears
      traces of Napoleon's passion for great and useful monuments. In Belgium,
      in Holland, in Piedmont, in all Italy, he executed great improvements. At
      Turin a splendid bridge was built over the Po, in lieu of an old bridge
      which was falling in ruins.
    
Paris isn't the only city, and France isn't the only country that shows signs of Napoleon's love for impressive and practical monuments. In Belgium, the Netherlands, Piedmont, and throughout Italy, he initiated significant improvements. In Turin, an elegant bridge was constructed over the Po, replacing an old bridge that was crumbling.







      How many things were undertaken and executed in Napoleon's short and
      eventful reign! To obviate the difficulty of communication between Metz
      and Mayence a magnificent road was made, as if by magic, across
      impracticable marshes and vast forests. Mountains were cut through and
      ravines filled up. He would not allow nature more than man to resist him.
      One day when he was proceeding to Belgium by the way of Givet, he was
      detained for a short time at Little Givet, on the right bank of the Meuse,
      in consequence of an accident which happened to the ferry-boat. He was
      within a gunshot of the fortress of Charlemont, on the left bank, and in
      the vexation which the delay occasioned he dictated the following decree:
      "A bridge shall be built over the Meuse to join Little Givet to Great
      Givet. It shall be terminated during the ensuing campaign." It was
      completed within the prescribed time. In the great work of bridges and
      highways Bonaparte's chief object was to remove the obstacles and barriers
      which nature had raised up as the limits of old France so as to form a
      junction with the provinces which he successively annexed to the Empire.
      Thus in Savoy a road, smooth as a garden-walk, superseded the dangerous
      ascents and descents of the wood of Bramant; thus was the passage of Mont
      Cenis a pleasant promenade at almost every season of the year; thus did
      the Simplon bow his head, and Bonaparte might have said, "There are now my
      Alps," with more reason than Louis XIV. said, "There are now no Pyrenees."
    
So many things were started and accomplished during Napoleon's short but eventful reign! To solve the communication problem between Metz and Mainz, an impressive road was built, almost magically, through challenging marshes and vast forests. Mountains were tunneled through and ravines were filled. He wouldn’t let nature stand in his way any more than people could. One day, while he was traveling to Belgium via Givet, he was briefly delayed at Little Givet, on the right bank of the Meuse, due to an incident with the ferry. He was only a short distance from the fortress of Charlemont on the left bank, and out of frustration with the delay, he dictated the following decree: "A bridge shall be built over the Meuse to connect Little Givet to Great Givet. It must be completed during the upcoming campaign." It was finished on time. In the major project of building bridges and highways, Bonaparte's main goal was to eliminate the obstacles and barriers that nature had placed as the old limits of France, to connect with the provinces he gradually brought into the Empire. For example, in Savoy, a smooth road, like a garden path, replaced the dangerous climbs and drops of the Bramant woods; the Mont Cenis passage became a pleasant route almost all year round; and the Simplon pass was humbled, allowing Bonaparte to have claimed, "Now, those are my Alps," with more truth than Louis XIV. had when he declared, "Now, there are no Pyrenees."






 —[Metternich (tome iv. p. 187) says on this subject, 'If you look
   closely at the course of human affairs you will make strange
   discoveries. For instance, that the Simplon Pass has contributed as
   surely to Napoleon's immortality as the numerous works done in the
   reign of the Emperor Francis will fail to add to his.]— 
 —[Metternich (tome iv. p. 187) says on this subject, 'If you look closely at the course of human affairs you will make strange discoveries. For instance, that the Simplon Pass has contributed as surely to Napoleon's immortality as the numerous works done in the reign of the Emperor Francis will fail to add to his.]—







      Such was the implicit confidence which Bonaparte reposed in me that I was
      often alarmed at the responsibility it obliged me to incur.
    
Such was the trust that Bonaparte had in me that I often felt uneasy about the responsibility it forced me to take on.






 —[Of this confidence the following instructions for me, which he
   dictated to Duroc, afford sufficient proof:—

   "1st. Citizen Bourrienne shall open all the letters addressed to
   the First Consul, Vol, and present them to him three times a day, or
   oftener in case of urgent business. The letters shall be deposited
   in the cabinet when they are opened. Bourrienne is to analyse all
   those which are of secondary interest, and write the First Consul's
   decision on each letter. The hours for presenting the letters shall
   be, first, when the Consul rises; second, a quarter of an hour
   before dinner; and third, at eleven at night.

   "2d. He is to have the superintendence of the Topographical office,
   and of an office of Translation, in which there shall be a German
   and an English clerk. Every day he shall present to the First
   Consul, at the hours above mentioned the German and English
   journals, together with a translation. With respect to the Italian
   journals, it will only be necessary to mark what the First Consul is
   to read.

   "3d. He shall keep a register of appointments to offices under
   Government; a second, for appointments to judicial posts; a third
   for appointments to places abroad; and a fourth, for the situations
   of receivers and great financial posts, where he is to inscribe the
   names of all the individuals whom the First Consul may refer to him.
   These registers must be written by his own hand, and must be kept
   entirely private.

   "4th. Secret correspondence, and the different reports of
   surveillance, are to be addressed directly to Bourrienne, and
   transmitted by him to the hand of the First Consul, by whom they
   will be returned without the intervention of any third party.

   "6th. There shall be a register for all that relates to secret
   extraordinary expenditure. Bourrienne shall write the whole with
   his own hand, in order that the business may be kept from the
   knowledge of any one.

   "7th. He shall despatch all the business which may be referred to
   him, either from Citizen Duroc, or from the cabinet of the First
   Consul, taking care to arrange everything so as to secure secrecy.

                  "(Signed) "BONAPARTE, First Consul.

   "Paris, 13th Germinal, year VIII.
   "(3d. April 1800.)"]— 
 —[To prove this confidence, here are the instructions he dictated to Duroc:—

   "1st. Citizen Bourrienne will open all the letters addressed to the First Consul, Vol, and present them three times a day, or more often if urgent. The letters will be placed in the cabinet once opened. Bourrienne will review all letters of secondary interest and write the First Consul's decision on each one. The times for presenting the letters are: first, when the Consul wakes up; second, fifteen minutes before dinner; and third, at eleven at night.

   "2nd. He will oversee the Topographical office and a Translation office with a German and an English clerk. Every day, at the times mentioned above, he will present the First Consul with the German and English journals along with translations. For the Italian journals, it will only be necessary to highlight what the First Consul needs to read.

   "3rd. He will maintain a register for appointments to government positions; a second for judicial appointments; a third for foreign posts; and a fourth for the positions of receivers and major financial roles, where he will write the names of all individuals referred to him by the First Consul. These registers must be written in his own hand and kept completely private.

   "4th. Secret correspondence and various surveillance reports will be directed to Bourrienne and passed directly to the First Consul, who will return them without any third-party involvement.

   "6th. There will be a register for all matters related to secret extraordinary expenses. Bourrienne will write everything by hand to keep this information from anyone else's knowledge.

   "7th. He will handle all business referred to him, whether from Citizen Duroc or from the First Consul's cabinet, making sure to organize everything to ensure confidentiality.

                  "(Signed) "BONAPARTE, First Consul.

   "Paris, 13th Germinal, year VIII.
   "(3rd April 1800.)"]—







      Official business was not the only labour that devolved upon me. I had to
      write to the dictation of the First Consul during a great part of the day,
      or to decipher his writing, which was always the most laborious part of my
      duty. I was so closely employed that I scarcely ever went out; and when by
      chance I dined in town, I could not arrive until the very moment of
      dinner, and I was obliged to run away immediately after it. Once a month,
      at most, I went without Bonaparte to the Comédie Française, but I was
      obliged to return at nine o'clock, that being the hour at which we resumed
      business. Corvisart, with whom I was intimately acquainted, constantly
      expressed his apprehensions about my health; but my zeal carried me
      through every difficulty, and during our stay at the Tuileries I cannot
      express how happy I was in enjoying the unreserved confidence of the man
      on whom the eyes of all Europe were filed. So perfect was this confidence
      that Bonaparte, neither as General, Consul, nor Emperor, ever gave me any
      fixed salary. In money matters we were still comrades: I took from his
      funds what was necessary to defray my expenses, and of this Bonaparte
      never once asked me for any account.
    
Official business wasn’t the only work I had to do. I spent most of my day writing down what the First Consul said or trying to read his handwriting, which was always the most challenging part of my job. I was so busy that I hardly ever went out, and when I did happen to have dinner in town, I would arrive right at the dinner time and had to leave immediately after. At most, I went out without Bonaparte to the Comédie Française once a month, but I had to be back by nine o'clock since that’s when we resumed work. Corvisart, who I was close with, often voiced his concerns about my health; however, my enthusiasm helped me push through every difficulty. During our time at the Tuileries, I can’t describe how happy I was to have the complete trust of the man who was the center of attention for all of Europe. This trust was so strong that Bonaparte, whether as General, Consul, or Emperor, never gave me a fixed salary. In financial matters, we remained comrades: I took what I needed from his funds to cover my expenses, and he never once asked me for an account.







      He often mentioned his wish to regenerate public education, which he
      thought was ill managed. The central schools did not please him; but he
      could not withhold his admiration from the Polytechnic School, the finest
      establishment of education that was ever founded, but which he afterwards
      spoiled by giving it a military organisation. In only one college of Paris
      the old system of study was preserved: this was the Louis-le-Grand, which
      had received the name of Pritanée. The First Consul directed the Minister
      of the Interior to draw up a report on that establishment; and he himself
      went to pay an unexpected visit to the Pritanée, accompanied by M. Lebrun
      and Duroc. He remained there upwards of an hour, and in the evening he
      spoke to me with much interest on the subject of his visit. "Do you know,
      Bourrienne," said he, "that I have been performing the duties of
      professor?"—"You, General!"—"Yes! and I did not acquit myself
      badly. I examined the pupils in the mathematical class; and I recollected
      enough of my Bezout to make some demonstrations before them. I went
      everywhere, into the bedrooms and the dining-room. I tasted the soup,
      which is better than we used to have at Brienne. I must devote serious
      attention to public education and the management of the colleges. The
      pupils must have a uniform. I observed some well and others ill dressed.
      That will not do. At college, above all places, there should be equality.
      But I was much pleased with the pupils of the Pritanée. I wish to know the
      names of those I examined, and I have desired Duroc to report them to me.
      I will give them rewards; that stimulates young people. I will provide for
      some of them."
    
He often talked about his desire to improve public education, which he believed was poorly managed. He wasn't impressed with the central schools, but he greatly admired the Polytechnic School, the best educational institution ever created, even though he later messed it up by turning it into a military organization. Only one college in Paris kept the old study system: Louis-le-Grand, known as Pritanée. The First Consul instructed the Minister of the Interior to prepare a report on that institution, and he himself unexpectedly visited the Pritanée, accompanied by M. Lebrun and Duroc. He stayed there for over an hour, and that evening he spoke to me with great interest about his visit. "Do you know, Bourrienne," he said, "that I acted as a professor?"—"You, General!"—"Yes! and I did pretty well. I tested the students in the math class; I remembered enough of my Bezout to do some demonstrations for them. I went everywhere, into the dorms and the dining room. I even tasted the soup, which is better than what we had at Brienne. I really need to focus on public education and how to manage the colleges. The students need uniforms. I noticed some were well-dressed and others weren't. That won't work. At college, more than anywhere else, there should be equality. But I was quite pleased with the students at Pritanée. I want to know the names of those I examined, and I’ve asked Duroc to report them to me. I'll give them rewards; that motivates young people. I will provide for some of them."







      On this subject Bonaparte did not confine himself to an empty scheme.
      After consulting with the headmaster of the Pritanée, he granted pensions
      of 200 francs to seven or eight of the most distinguished pupils of the
      establishment, and he placed three of them in the department of Foreign
      Affairs, under the title of diplomatic pupils.
    
On this topic, Bonaparte didn’t stick to just an empty plan. After talking with the headmaster of the Pritanée, he provided pensions of 200 francs to seven or eight of the top students at the school, and he assigned three of them to the Foreign Affairs department, with the title of diplomatic pupils.






 —[This institution of diplomatic pupils was originally suggested by
   M. de Talleyrand.]— 
 —[This program for diplomatic students was originally proposed by M. de Talleyrand.]—







      What I have just said respecting the First Consul's visit to the Pritanée
      reminds me of a very extraordinary circumstance which arose out of it.
      Among the pupils at the Pritanée there was a son of General Miackzinski,
      who died fighting under the banners of the Republic. Young Miackzinski was
      then sixteen or seventeen years of age. He soon quitted the college,
      entered the army as a volunteer, and was one of a corps reviewed by
      Bonaparte, in the plain of Sablons. He was pointed out to the First
      Consul, who said to him, "I knew your father. Follow his example, and in
      six months you shall be an officer." Six months elapsed, and Miackzinski
      wrote to the First Consul, reminding him of his promise. No answer was
      returned, and the young man then wrote a second letter as follows:
    
What I just mentioned about the First Consul's visit to the Pritanée reminds me of a very unusual situation that came from it. Among the students at the Pritanée was the son of General Miackzinski, who died fighting for the Republic. Young Miackzinski was around sixteen or seventeen at the time. He soon left school, joined the army as a volunteer, and was part of a unit reviewed by Bonaparte in the plain of Sablons. He was pointed out to the First Consul, who said to him, "I knew your father. Follow his example, and in six months you will be an officer." Six months went by, and Miackzinski wrote to the First Consul, reminding him of his promise. No response came back, so the young man wrote a second letter as follows:






   You desired me to prove myself worthy of my father; I have done so.
   You promised that I should be an officer in six months; seven have
   elapsed since that promise was made. When you receive this letter I
   shall be no more. I cannot live under a Government the head of
   which breaks his word.

   You wanted me to show that I was worthy of my father; I have done that.  
   You said I would be an officer in six months; it’s been seven since you made that promise. When you get this letter, I won’t be around anymore. I can’t live under a government whose leader breaks his promises.







      Poor Miackzinski kept his word but too faithfully. After writing the above
      letter to the First Consul he retired to his chamber and blew out his
      brains with a pistol. A few days after this tragical event Miackzinski's
      commission was transmitted to his corps, for Bonaparte had not forgotten
      him. A delay in the War Office had caused the death of this promising
      young man. Bonaparte was much affected at the circumstance, and he said to
      me, "These Poles have such refined notions of honour.... Poor Sulkowski, I
      am sure, would have done the same."
    
Poor Miackzinski kept his promise but did so too steadfastly. After writing the letter to the First Consul, he went back to his room and took his own life with a gun. A few days after this tragic event, Miackzinski's commission was sent to his unit because Bonaparte hadn't forgotten him. A delay at the War Office had led to the death of this promising young man. Bonaparte was deeply affected by this situation, and he said to me, "These Poles have such refined ideas of honor.... Poor Sulkowski, I’m sure, would have done the same."







      At the commencement of the Consulate it was gratifying to see how actively
      Bonaparte was seconded in the execution of plans for the social
      regeneration of France; all seemed animated with new life, and every one
      strove to do good as if it were a matter of competition.
    
At the start of the Consulate, it was refreshing to see how actively Bonaparte was supported in carrying out plans for the social renewal of France; everyone seemed energized and everyone tried to do good as if it were a competition.







      Every circumstance concurred to favour the good intentions of the First
      Consul. Vaccination, which, perhaps, has saved as many lives as war has
      sacrificed, was introduced into France by M. d'Liancourt; and Bonaparte,
      immediately appreciating the value of such a discovery, gave it his
      decided approbation. At the same time a council of Prizes was established,
      and the old members of the Constituent Assembly were invited to return to
      France. It was for their sake and that of the Royalists that the First
      Consul recalled them, but it was to please the Jacobins, whom he was
      endeavouring to conciliate, that their return was subject to restrictions.
      At first the invitation to return to France extended only to those who
      could prove that they had voted in favour of the abolition of nobility.
      The lists of emigrants were closed, and committees were appointed to
      investigate their claims to the privilege of returning.
    
Every situation aligned to support the good intentions of the First Consul. Vaccination, which has likely saved as many lives as war has taken, was brought to France by M. d'Liancourt; Bonaparte quickly recognized the importance of this discovery and fully endorsed it. At the same time, a Prize Council was created, and former members of the Constituent Assembly were invited to return to France. The First Consul called them back for their sake and that of the Royalists, but to appease the Jacobins, whom he was trying to win over, their return came with conditions. Initially, the invitation to return to France was only for those who could prove they had voted for the abolition of nobility. The lists of émigrés were closed, and committees were set up to review their claims for the right to return.







      From the commencement of the month of Germinal the reorganisation of the
      army of Italy had proceeded with renewed activity. The presence in Paris
      of the fine corps of the Consular Guard, added to the desire of showing
      themselves off in gay uniforms, had stimulated the military ardour of many
      respectable young men of the capital. Taking advantage of this
      circumstance the First Consul created a corps of volunteers destined for
      the army of reserve, which was to remain at Dijon. He saw the advantage of
      connecting a great number of families with his cause, and imbuing them
      with the spirit of the army. This volunteer corps wore a yellow uniform
      which, in some of the salons of Paris where it was still the custom to
      ridicule everything, obtained for them the nickname of "canaries."
      Bonaparte, who did not always relish a joke, took this in very ill part,
      and often expressed to me his vexation at it. However, he was gratified to
      observe in the composition of this corps a first specimen of privileged
      soldiers; an idea which he acted upon when he created the orderly
      gendarmes in the campaign of Jena, and when he organised the guards of
      honour after the disasters of Moscow.
    
Starting in the month of Germinal, the reorganization of the army of Italy ramped up significantly. The arrival of the impressive Consular Guard in Paris, along with the urge to show off in flashy uniforms, boosted the military enthusiasm of many respectable young men in the capital. Seizing this opportunity, the First Consul established a volunteer corps for the reserve army, which was set to stay in Dijon. He recognized the benefit of linking many families to his cause and instilling them with the spirit of the military. This volunteer corps wore yellow uniforms, which earned them the nickname "canaries" in some Paris salons where mocking everything was still in vogue. Bonaparte, who wasn't always fond of jokes, took this poorly and frequently shared his frustration with me. Nevertheless, he was pleased to see the beginnings of a privileged soldier class within this corps; an idea he later implemented when he established the orderly gendarmes during the Jena campaign and created the honor guards after the setbacks in Moscow.







      In every action of his life Bonaparte had some particular object in view.
      I recollect his saying to me one day, "Bourrienne, I cannot yet venture to
      do anything against the regicides; but I will let them see what I think of
      them. To-morrow I shall have some business with Abrial respecting the
      organisation of the court of Cassation. Target, who is the president of
      that court, would not defend Louis XVI. Well, whom do you think I mean to
      appoint in his place? . . . Tronchet, who did defend the king. They may
      say what they please; I care not."
    
In everything he did, Bonaparte always had a specific goal in mind. I remember him telling me one day, "Bourrienne, I can't take any action against the regicides just yet; but I’ll make sure they know how I feel about them. Tomorrow, I have a meeting with Abrial regarding the organization of the court of Cassation. Target, the president of that court, wouldn’t defend Louis XVI. So, who do you think I plan to appoint in his place? . . . Tronchet, who did defend the king. They can say whatever they want; I don’t care."






 —[On this, as on many other occasions, the cynicism of Bonaparte's
   language does not admit of a literal translation.]— 
—[On this, as on many other occasions, the cynicism in Bonaparte's language doesn't allow for a direct translation.]—







      Tronchet was appointed.
    
Tronchet was assigned.







      Nearly about the same time the First Consul, being informed of the escape
      of General Mack, said to me, "Mack may go where he pleases; I am not
      afraid of him. But I will tell you what I have been thinking. There are
      some other Austrian officers who were prisoners with Mack; among the
      number is a Count Dietrichstein, who belongs to a great family in Vienna.
      I will liberate them all. At the moment of opening a campaign this will
      have a good effect. They will see that I fear nothing; and who knows but
      this may procure me some admirers in Austria." The order for liberating
      the Austrian prisoners was immediately despatched. Thus Bonaparte's acts
      of generosity, as well as his acts of severity and his choice of
      individuals, were all the result of deep calculation.
    
Around the same time, the First Consul, after hearing about General Mack's escape, said to me, "Mack can go wherever he wants; I'm not worried about him. But I want to share something I've been considering. There are other Austrian officers who were held captive with Mack; among them is Count Dietrichstein, who is part of an important family in Vienna. I'm going to free them all. Right before the start of a campaign, this will have a positive impact. They'll see that I'm not afraid of anything, and who knows, this might earn me some supporters in Austria." The order to free the Austrian prisoners was sent out immediately. So, Bonaparte's acts of generosity, as well as his severity and choice of individuals, were all carefully calculated.







      This unvarying attention to the affairs of the Government was manifest in
      all he did. I have already mentioned the almost simultaneous suppression
      of the horrible commemoration of the month of January, and the permission
      for the revival of the opera balls. A measure something similar to this
      was the authorisation of the festivals of Longchamps, which had been
      forgotten since the Revolution. He at the same time gave permission for
      sacred music to be performed at the opera. Thus, while in public acts he
      maintained the observance of the Republican calendar, he was gradually
      reviving the old calendar by seasons of festivity. Shrove-Tuesday was
      marked by a ball, and Passion-week by promenades and concerts.
    
This consistent focus on government affairs showed in everything he did. I've already mentioned the almost immediate cancellation of the dreadful January commemoration and the approval for the return of the opera balls. A similar move was the approval of the Longchamps festivals, which had been overlooked since the Revolution. He also allowed sacred music to be played at the opera. So, while he kept to the Republican calendar in public events, he was slowly bringing back the old calendar with seasonal festivities. Shrove-Tuesday featured a ball, and Passion-week was celebrated with promenades and concerts.








 


 




















      CHAPTER XXXV
    



      1800.
    
1800.


   The Memorial of St. Helena—Louis XVIII.'s first letter to Bonaparte
   —Josephine, Hortense, and the Faubourg St. Germain—
   Madame Bonaparte and the fortune-teller—Louis XVIII's second letter
   —Bonaparte's answer—Conversation respecting the recall of Louis
   XVIII.—Peace and war—A battle fought with pins—Genoa and Melas—
   Realisation of Bonaparte's military plans—Ironical letter to
   Berthier—Departure from Paris—Instructions to Lucien and
   Cambacérès—Joseph Bonaparte appointed Councillor of State—
   Travelling conversation—Alexander and Caesar judged by Bonaparte.

The Memorial of St. Helena—Louis XVIII's first letter to Bonaparte—Josephine, Hortense, and the Faubourg St. Germain—Madame Bonaparte and the fortune-teller—Louis XVIII's second letter—Bonaparte's response—Discussion about bringing back Louis XVIII—Peace and war—a battle fought with pins—Genoa and Melas—Implementation of Bonaparte's military plans—Sarcastic letter to Berthier—Leaving Paris—Instructions to Lucien and Cambacérès—Joseph Bonaparte made Councillor of State—Traveling conversation—Alexander and Caesar evaluated by Bonaparte.







      It sometimes happens that an event which passes away unnoticed at the time
      of its occurrence acquires importance from events which subsequently
      ensue. This reflection naturally occurs to my mind now that I am about to
      notice the correspondence which passed between Louis XVIII. and the First
      Consul. This is certainly not one of the least interesting passages in the
      life of Bonaparte.
    
It sometimes happens that an event that seems insignificant when it occurs gains importance from later events. This thought comes to mind now that I'm about to discuss the correspondence between Louis XVIII and the First Consul. This is definitely one of the more intriguing moments in Bonaparte's life.







      But I must first beg leave to make an observation on the 'Memorial of St.
      Helena.' That publication relates what Bonaparte said respecting the
      negotiations between Louis XVIII. and himself; and I find it necessary to
      quote a few lines on the subject, in order to show how far the statements
      contained in the Memorial differ from the autograph letters in my
      possession.
    
But I should first ask for permission to make a comment on the 'Memorial of St. Helena.' That publication discusses what Bonaparte said about the negotiations between Louis XVIII and himself, and I find it necessary to quote a few lines on the topic to illustrate how much the statements in the Memorial differ from the handwritten letters I have.







      At St. Helena Napoleon said that he never thought of the princes of the
      House of Bourbon. This is true to a certain point. He did not think of the
      princes of the House of Bourbon with the view of restoring them to their
      throne; but it has been shown, in several parts of these Memoirs, that he
      thought of them very often, and on more than one occasion their very names
      alarmed him.
    
At St. Helena, Napoleon claimed that he never thought about the princes of the House of Bourbon. This is true to some extent. He didn’t think about restoring them to their throne, but it has been demonstrated in several sections of these Memoirs that he often considered them, and their names frightened him on more than one occasion.






 —[The Memorial states that "A letter was delivered to the First
   Consul by Lebrun who received it from the Abbé de Montesquieu, the
   secret agent of the Bourbons in Paris." This letter which was very
   cautiously written, said:—

   "You are long delaying the restoration of my throne. It is to be
   feared you are suffering favourable moments to escape. You cannot
   secure the happiness of France without me, and I can do nothing for
   France without you. Hasten, then, to name the offices which you
   would choose for your friends."

   The answer, Napoleon said, was as follows:—

   "I have received your royal highness' letter. I have always taken a
   lively interest in your misfortunes, and those of your family. You
   must not think of appearing in France; you could only return here by
   trampling over a hundred thousand dead bodies. I shall always be
   happy to do anything that can alleviate your fate and help to banish
   the recollection of your misfortunes."—Bourrienne.]— 
 —[The Memorial states that "A letter was delivered to the First Consul by Lebrun, who received it from Abbé de Montesquieu, the secret agent of the Bourbons in Paris." This letter, which was very carefully written, said:—

   "You are taking a long time to restore my throne. I fear you are missing favorable moments to act. You cannot ensure the happiness of France without me, and I can do nothing for France without you. So please hurry and decide on the positions you want for your friends."

   The reply, Napoleon said, was as follows:—

   "I have received your royal highness' letter. I have always taken a strong interest in your misfortunes and those of your family. You must not think about returning to France; you could only come back by stepping over a hundred thousand dead bodies. I will always be glad to do anything that can ease your situation and help to erase the memories of your past misfortunes."—Bourrienne.]—







      The substance of the two letters given in the 'Memorial of St. Helena' is
      correct. The ideas are nearly the same as those of the original letters.
      But it is not surprising that, after the lapse of so long an interval,
      Napoleon's memory should somewhat have failed him. However, it will not, I
      presume, be deemed unimportant if I present to the reader literal copies
      of this correspondence; together with the explanation of some curious
      circumstances connected with it.
    
The content of the two letters included in the 'Memorial of St. Helena' is accurate. The ideas are almost identical to those in the original letters. However, it's not surprising that, after such a long time, Napoleon might have forgotten some details. Still, I don't think it will be considered unimportant if I provide the reader with exact copies of this correspondence, along with an explanation of some interesting details related to it.







      The following is Louis XVIII's letter:—
    
The following is Louis XVIII's letter:—






                       February 20,1800.

   SIR—Whatever may be their apparent conduct, men like you never
   inspire alarm. You have accepted an eminent station, and I thank
   you for having done so. You know better than any one how much
   strength and power are requisite to secure the happiness of a great
   nation. Save France from her own violence, and you will fulfil the
   first wish of my heart. Restore her King to her, and future
   generations will bless your memory. You will always be too
   necessary to the State for me ever to be able to discharge, by
   important appointments, the debt of my family and myself.

                       (Signed) Louis.

                       February 20, 1800.

   SIR—No matter how they may appear, people like you never cause worry. You've taken on a significant role, and I appreciate that you have. You understand better than anyone how much strength and influence are needed to ensure the happiness of a great nation. Save France from her own chaos, and you'll fulfill the deepest wish of my heart. Bring her King back, and future generations will remember you with gratitude. You will always be too vital to the State for me to ever repay the debt of my family and myself through important positions.

                       (Signed) Louis.







      The First Consul was much agitated on the reception of this letter. Though
      he every day declared his determination to have nothing to do with the
      Princes, yet he hesitated whether or no he should reply to this overture.
      The numerous affairs which then occupied his mind favoured this
      hesitation. Josephine and Hortense conjured him to hold out hope to the
      King, as by so doing he would in no way pledge himself, and would gain
      time to ascertain whether he could not ultimately play a far greater part
      than that of Monk. Their entreaties became so urgent that he said to me,
      "These devils of women are mad! The Faubourg St. Germain has turned their
      heads! They make the Faubourg the guardian angel of the royalists; but I
      care not; I will have nothing to do with them."
    
The First Consul was really shaken up when he got this letter. Even though he kept saying every day that he wanted nothing to do with the Princes, he was unsure whether or not to respond to this approach. The many issues on his mind made him hesitate. Josephine and Hortense urged him to give the King some hope, arguing that it wouldn't commit him to anything and would buy him time to see if he could play a much bigger role than Monk. Their pleas became so intense that he said to me, "These crazy women have lost their minds! The Faubourg St. Germain has gotten to them! They act like the Faubourg is the protector of the royalists; but I don't care; I want nothing to do with them."







      Madame Bonaparte said she was anxious he should adopt the step she
      proposed in order to banish from his mind all thought of making himself
      King. This idea always gave rise to a painful foreboding which she could
      never overcome.
    
Madame Bonaparte said she was worried he would take the step she suggested to get rid of any thoughts of making himself King. This idea always filled her with a sense of dread she could never shake off.







      In the First Consul's numerous conversations with me he discussed with
      admirable sagacity Louis XVIII.'s proposition and its consequences. "The
      partisans of the Bourbons," said he, "are deceived if they suppose I am
      the man to play Monk's part." Here the matter rested, and the King's
      letter remained on the table. In the interim Louis XVIII. wrote a second
      letter, without any date. It was as follows:
    
In the many conversations I've had with the First Consul, he insightfully talked about Louis XVIII's proposal and its implications. "The Bourbon supporters," he said, "are fooling themselves if they think I'm the one to take on Monk's role." That was where the discussion ended, and the King's letter stayed on the table. Meanwhile, Louis XVIII wrote a second letter, undated. It read as follows:






   You must have long since been convinced, General, that you possess
   my esteem. If you doubt my gratitude, fix your reward and mark out
   the fortune of your friends. As to my principles, I am a Frenchman,
   merciful by character, and also by the dictates of reason.

   No, the victor of Lodi, Castiglione, and Arcola, the conqueror of
   Italy and Egypt, cannot prefer vain celebrity to real glory. But
   you are losing precious time. We may ensure the glory of France.

   I say we, because I require the aid of Bonaparte, and he can do
   nothing without me.

   General, Europe observes you. Glory awaits you, and I am impatient
   to restore peace to my people.
                    (Signed) LOUIS.

   You must be convinced by now, General, that you have my respect. If you doubt my gratitude, set your reward and think of the fortune of your friends. As for my principles, I am a Frenchman, kind by nature and also guided by reason.

   No, the victor of Lodi, Castiglione, and Arcola, the conqueror of Italy and Egypt, cannot choose empty fame over true glory. But you're wasting valuable time. We can secure the glory of France.

   I say "we" because I need Bonaparte's help, and he can't do anything without me.

   General, Europe is watching you. Glory is waiting for you, and I’m eager to bring peace back to my people.
                    (Signed) LOUIS.







      This dignified letter the First Consul suffered to remain unanswered for
      several weeks; at length he proposed to dictate an answer to me. I
      observed, that as the King's letters were autographs, it would be more
      proper that he should write himself. He then wrote with his own hand the
      following:
    
This formal letter went unanswered by the First Consul for several weeks; finally, he suggested dictating a response to me. I pointed out that since the King's letters were handwritten, it would be more appropriate for him to write it himself. He then wrote the following by hand:






   Sir—I have received your letter, and I thank you for the
   compliments you address to me.

   You must not seek to return to France. To do so you must trample
   over a hundred thousand dead bodies.

   Sacrifice your interest to the repose and happiness of France, and
   history will render you justice.

   I am not insensible to the misfortunes of your family. I shall
   learn with pleasure, and shall willingly contribute to ensure, the
   tranquillity of your retirement.
                    (Signed) BONAPARTE.

   Sir—I've received your letter, and I appreciate the compliments you've given me.

   You shouldn’t try to go back to France. To do that, you would have to walk over a hundred thousand dead bodies.

   Put aside your own interests for the peace and happiness of France, and history will recognize your sacrifice.

   I am not indifferent to the troubles your family is facing. I will be glad to hear about it and will gladly help ensure your peaceful retirement.
                    (Signed) BONAPARTE.







      He showed me this letter, saying, "What do you think of it? is it not
      good?" He was never offended when I pointed out to him an error of grammar
      or style, and I therefore replied, "As to the substance, if such be your
      resolution, I have nothing to say against it; but," added I, "I must make
      one observation on the style. You cannot say that you shall learn with
      pleasure to ensure, etc." On reading the passage over again he thought he
      had pledged himself too far in saying that he would willingly contribute,
      etc. He therefore scored out the last sentence, and interlined, "I shall
      contribute with pleasure to the happiness and tranquillity of your
      retirement."
    
He showed me this letter and asked, "What do you think? Isn’t it good?" He never took offense when I pointed out a grammar or style mistake, so I replied, "Regarding the content, if that’s your decision, I have no objections. However," I added, "I need to mention one thing about the style. You can’t say that you’ll learn with pleasure to ensure, etc." After reading that part again, he felt he had committed too much by saying he would willingly contribute, etc. So, he crossed out the last sentence and wrote instead, "I will happily contribute to the happiness and peace of your retirement."







      The answer thus scored and interlined could not be sent off, and it lay on
      the table with Bonaparte's signature affixed to it.
    
The marked answer with cross-outs couldn't be sent off, and it sat on the table with Bonaparte's signature on it.







      Some time after he wrote another answer, the three first paragraphs of
      which were exactly alike that first quoted; but for the last paragraph he
      substituted the following:
    
Some time after he wrote another response, the first three paragraphs were exactly the same as the one quoted before; but for the last paragraph, he replaced it with the following:






   "I am not insensible to the misfortunes of your family; and I shall
   learn with pleasure that you are surrounded with all that can
   contribute to the tranquillity of your retirement."

   "I’m not unaware of the troubles your family is going through; and I’ll be happy to hear that you have everything you need to enjoy your peace and quiet."







      By this means he did not pledge himself in any way, not even in words, for
      he himself made no offer of contributing to the tranquillity of the
      retirement. Every day which augmented his power and consolidated his
      position diminished, he thought, the chances of the Bourbons; and seven
      months were suffered to intervene between the date of the King's first
      letter and the answer of the First Consul, which was written on the 2d
      Vendemiaire, year IX. (24th September 1800) just when the Congress of
      Luneville was on the point of opening.
    
By doing this, he didn't commit himself in any way, not even verbally, because he didn't offer to help with the peace of the retreat. Every day that increased his power and strengthened his position, he believed, reduced the chances for the Bourbons; and seven months passed between the date of the King's first letter and the response from the First Consul, which was written on the 2nd Vendemiaire, year IX. (24th September 1800), just as the Congress of Luneville was about to begin.







      Some days after the receipt of Louis XVIII.'s letter we were walking in
      the gardens of Malmaison; he was in good humour, for everything was going
      on to his mind. "Has my wife been saying anything more to you about the
      Bourbons?" said he.—"No, General."—"But when you converse with
      her you concur a little in her opinions. Tell me why you wish the Bourbons
      back? You have no interest in their return, nothing to expect from them.
      Your family rank is not high enough to enable you to obtain any great
      post. You would be nothing under them. Through the patronage of M. de
      Chambonas you got the appointment of Secretary of Legation at Stuttgart;
      but had it not been for the change you would have remained all your life
      in that or some inferior post. Did you ever know men rise by their own
      merit under kings? Everything depends on birth, connection, fortune, and
      intrigue. Judge things more accurately; reflect more maturely on the
      future."—"General," replied I, "I am quite of your opinion on one
      point. I never received gift, place, or favour from the Bourbons; and I
      have not the vanity to believe that I should ever have attained any
      important Appointment. But you must not forget that my nomination as
      Secretary of Legation at Stuttgart preceded the overthrow of the throne
      only by a few days; and I cannot infer, from what took place under
      circumstances unfortunately too certain, what might have happened in the
      reverse case. Besides, I am not actuated by personal feelings; I consider
      not my own interests, but those of France. I wish you to hold the reins of
      government as long as you live; but you have no children, and it is
      tolerably certain that you will have none by Josephine. What will become
      of us when you are gone? You talk of the future; but what will be the
      future fate of France? I have often heard you say that your brothers are
      not—"—"You are right," said he, abruptly interrupting me. "If
      I do not live thirty years to complete my work you will have a long series
      of civil wars after my death. My brothers will not suit France; you know
      what they are. A violent conflict will therefore arise among the most
      distinguished generals, each of whom will think himself entitled to
      succeed me."—"Well, General, why not take means to obviate the
      mischief you foresee?"—"Do you imagine I do not think of it? But
      look at the difficulties that stand in my way. How are so many acquired
      rights and material results to be secured against the efforts of a family
      restored to power, and returning with 80,000 emigrants and the influence
      of fanaticism? What would become of those who voted for the death of the
      King—the men who acted a conspicuous part in the Revolution—the
      national domains, and a multitude of things that have been done during
      twelve years? Can you see how far reaction would extend?"—"General,
      need I remind you that Louis, in his letter, guarantees the contrary of
      all you apprehend? I know what will be your answer; but are you not able
      to impose whatever conditions you may think fit? Grant what is asked of
      you only at that price. Take three or four years; in that time you may
      ensure the happiness of France by institutions conformable to her wants.
      Custom and habit would give them a power which it would not be easy to
      destroy; and even supposing such a design were entertained, it could not
      be accomplished. I have heard you say it is wished you should act the part
      of Monk; but you well know the difference between a general opposing the
      usurper of a crown, and one whom victory and peace have raised above the
      ruins of a subverted throne, and who restores it voluntarily to those who
      have long occupied it. You are well aware what you call ideology will not
      again be revived; and—"—"I know what you are going to say; but
      it all amounts to nothing. Depend upon it, the Bourbons will think they
      have reconquered their inheritance, and will dispose of it as they please.
      The most sacred pledges, the most positive promises, will be violated.
      None but fools will trust them. My resolution is formed; therefore let us
      say no more on the subject. But I know how these women torment you. Let
      them mind their knitting, and leave me to do what I think right."
    
A few days after receiving Louis XVIII's letter, we were walking in the gardens of Malmaison. He was in a good mood, as everything was going his way. "Has my wife said anything more to you about the Bourbons?" he asked. "No, General." "But when you talk to her, you kind of agree with her views. Why do you want the Bourbons to come back? You have no stake in their return and nothing to gain from them. Your family rank isn't high enough for you to land any significant position. You would be of no importance under them. Thanks to M. de Chambonas, you got appointed as Secretary of Legation in Stuttgart, but without that change, you'd have spent your whole life in that or some lesser role. Have you ever seen anyone rise solely by their talent under kings? Everything relies on birth, connections, wealth, and politics. Think more clearly; consider the future more thoroughly." "General," I replied, "I agree with you on one point. I never received any gifts, positions, or favors from the Bourbons, and I don't have the arrogance to think I would have achieved any significant appointment. But you shouldn’t forget that my nomination as Secretary of Legation in Stuttgart happened just days before the throne was toppled; I cannot conclude from what happened in those unfortunately definitive circumstances what might have been if things had gone differently. Besides, I'm not driven by personal motives; I care about France, not just myself. I want you to lead as long as you live, but you have no children, and it's fairly certain you won’t have any with Josephine. What will happen to us when you're gone? You speak of the future, but what will be France's future? I've often heard you say your brothers are not—" "You're right," he said, cutting me off. "If I don’t live thirty more years to finish my work, there will be a long series of civil wars after my death. My brothers won't fit in France; you know what they're like. A fierce struggle will break out among the top generals, each believing they're entitled to succeed me." "Well, General, why not take steps to prevent the disaster you anticipate?" "Do you think I don’t think about it? But look at the obstacles I face. How can so many acquired rights and tangible results be protected against a family restored to power, returning with 80,000 emigrants and the power of fanaticism? What will happen to those who voted for the King’s execution—the people who played significant roles in the Revolution—the national lands, and all the actions taken over the past twelve years? Can you see how far the backlash would go?" "General, do I need to remind you that Louis, in his letter, guarantees the opposite of everything you fear? I know what your response will be, but can’t you impose whatever conditions you think are necessary? Grant what’s requested of you only at that price. Take three or four years; in that time, you can secure France's happiness with institutions that meet her needs. Tradition and habit would provide them with a stability that's hard to break; even if such plans were considered, they couldn't be executed. I’ve heard you say people want you to act like Monk, but you well know the difference between a general opposing a crown usurper, and someone who, having risen through victory and peace from the wreckage of a fallen throne, restores it voluntarily to those who’ve long held it. You’re fully aware that what you call ideology won’t be reignited; and—" "I know what you're getting at, but it all means nothing. Trust me, the Bourbons will think they’ve reclaimed their birthright and will treat it as they like. The most sacred pledges and the firmest promises will be broken. Only fools will trust them. My decision is made; so let's drop the topic. But I understand how these women bother you. They should focus on their own issues and let me do what I believe is right."







      Every one knows the adage, 'Si vis pacem para bellum'. Had Bonaparte been
      a Latin scholar he would probably have reversed it and said, 'Si vis
      bellum para pacem'. While seeking to establish pacific relations with the
      powers of Europe the First Consul was preparing to strike a great blow in
      Italy. As long as Genoa held out, and Massena continued there, Bonaparte
      did not despair of meeting the Austrians in those fields which not four
      years before had been the scenes of his success. He resolved to assemble
      an army of reserve at Dijon. Where there was previously nothing he created
      everything. At that period of his life the fertility of his imagination
      and the vigour of his genius must have commanded the admiration of even
      his bitterest enemies. I was astonished at the details into which he
      entered. While every moment was engrossed by the most important
      occupations he sent 24,000 francs to the hospital of Mont St. Bernard.
      When he saw that his army of reserve was forming, and everything was going
      on to his liking, he said to me, "I hope to fall on the rear of Melas
      before he is aware I am in Italy . . . that is to say, provided Genoa
      holds out. But MASSENA is defending it."
    
Everyone knows the saying, "If you want peace, prepare for war." If Bonaparte had been a Latin scholar, he might have flipped it around and said, "If you want war, prepare for peace." While trying to build peaceful relations with the powers of Europe, the First Consul was getting ready to deliver a major blow in Italy. As long as Genoa resisted and Massena remained there, Bonaparte didn't give up hope of confronting the Austrians in the same fields where he had succeeded just four years earlier. He decided to gather a reserve army at Dijon. Where there had been nothing, he created everything. At that time in his life, the creativity of his thoughts and the energy of his genius must have impressed even his fiercest enemies. I was amazed at the details he focused on. While he was occupied with crucial tasks, he sent 24,000 francs to the hospital of Mont St. Bernard. When he saw that his reserve army was forming and everything was going as he wanted, he said to me, "I hope to strike Melas’s rear before he realizes I'm in Italy... that is, as long as Genoa holds out. But MASSENA is defending it."







      On the 17th of March, in a moment of gaiety and good humour, he desired me
      to unroll Chauchard's great map of Italy. He lay down upon it, and desired
      me to do likewise. He then stuck into it pins, the heads of which were
      tipped with wax, some red and some black. I silently observed him; and
      awaited with no little curiosity the result of this plan of campaign. When
      he had stationed the enemy's corps, and drawn up the pins with red heads
      on the points where he hoped to bring his own troops, he said to me,
      "Where do you think I shall beat Melas?"—"How the devil should I
      know?"—"Why, look here, you fool! Melas is at Alessandria with his
      headquarters. There he will remain until Genoa surrenders. He has in
      Alessandria his magazines, his hospitals, his artillery, and his reserves.
      Crossing the Alps here (pointing to the Great Mont St. Bernard) I shall
      fall upon Melas, cut off his communications with Austria, and meet him
      here in the plains of Scrivia" (placing a red pin at San Giuliano).
      Finding that I looked on this manoeuvre of pins as mere pastime, he
      addressed to me some of his usual compliments, such as fool, ninny, etc.,
      and then proceeded to demonstrate his plans more clearly on the map. At
      the expiration of a quarter of an hour we rose; I folded up the map, and
      thought no more of the matter.
    
On March 17th, in a cheerful mood, he asked me to unroll Chauchard's big map of Italy. He lay down on it and asked me to do the same. Then he stuck pins into it, some with red heads and some with black, the heads dipped in wax. I quietly watched him, curious about what his plan was. Once he had placed the enemy's forces and pinned red heads where he wanted to position his own troops, he asked me, "Where do you think I’ll defeat Melas?"—"How the heck should I know?"—"Well, look, you fool! Melas is in Alessandria with his headquarters. He’ll stay there until Genoa surrenders. He has his supply depots, hospitals, artillery, and reserves all in Alessandria. By crossing the Alps here," (pointing to the Great Mont St. Bernard) "I’ll surprise Melas, cut off his communications with Austria, and meet him here in the plains of Scrivia" (placing a red pin at San Giuliano). When I seemed to treat his pin maneuver as just a game, he threw in some of his usual teasing, calling me a fool, ninny, etc., and then went on to explain his plans more clearly on the map. After about fifteen minutes, we got up; I folded the map and didn’t think about it again.







      Four months after this, when I was at San Giuliano with Bonaparte's
      portfolio and despatches, which I had saved from the rout which had taken
      place during the day, and when that very evening I was writing at Torre di
      Galifolo the bulletin of the battle to Napoleon's dictation, I frankly
      avowed my admiration of his military plans. He himself smiled at the
      accuracy of his own foresight.
    
Four months later, while I was at San Giuliano with Bonaparte's portfolio and reports that I had managed to save from the chaos of the day, I spent that evening writing the battle bulletin at Torre di Galifolo based on Napoleon’s directions. I openly expressed my admiration for his military strategies. He smiled at how accurate his foresight was.







      The First Consul was not satisfied with General Berthier as War Minister,
      and he superseded him by Carnot,
    
The First Consul was not happy with General Berthier as War Minister, so he replaced him with Carnot,






 —[There were special reasons for the appointment of Carnot,
   Berthier was required with his master in Italy, while Carnot, who
   had so long ruled the armies of the Republic, was better fitted to
   influence Moreau, at this time advancing into Germany. Carnot
   probably fulfilled the main object of his appointment when he was
   sent to Moreau, and succeeded in getting that general, with natural
   reluctance, to damage his own campaign by detaching a large body of
   troops into Italy. Berthier was reappointed to the Ministry on the
   8th of October 1800,—a very speedy return if he had really been
   disgraced.]— 
—[There were specific reasons for choosing Carnot. Berthier was needed with his boss in Italy, while Carnot, who had long led the armies of the Republic, was better suited to influence Moreau, who was advancing into Germany at that time. Carnot probably achieved the main goal of his appointment when he was sent to Moreau, managing to persuade that general, despite his natural hesitation, to weaken his own campaign by sending a large number of troops to Italy. Berthier was reinstated to the Ministry on October 8, 1800,—a quick return if he had really been disgraced.]—







      who had given great proofs of firmness and integrity, but who,
      nevertheless, was no favourite of Bonaparte, on account of his decided
      republican principles. Berthier was too slow in carrying out the measures
      ordered, [duplicated line removed here D.W.] and too lenient in the
      payment of past charges and in new contracts. Carnot's appointment took
      place on the 2d of April 1800; and to console Berthier, who, he knew, was
      more at home in the camp than in the office, he dictated to me the
      following letter for him:—
    
who had shown great proof of determination and integrity, but who, still, was not a favorite of Bonaparte because of his strong republican beliefs. Berthier was too slow in implementing the measures that were ordered, and too lenient in settling past expenses and in new contracts. Carnot's appointment happened on April 2, 1800; and to reassure Berthier, who he knew was more comfortable in the field than in the office, he dictated the following letter to me for him:—






                  PARIS, 2d April 1800.

   CITIZEN-GENERAL,—The military talents of which you have given so
   many proofs, and the confidence of the Government, call you to the
   command of an army. During the winter you have REORGANISED the War
   Department, and you have provided, as far as circumstances would
   permit, for the wants of our armies. During the spring and summer
   it must be your task to lead our troops to victory, which is the
   effectual means of obtaining peace and consolidating the Republic.

                  PARIS, April 2, 1800.

   CITIZEN-GENERAL, — Your proven military skills and the trust of the Government have led to your appointment as the commander of an army. Over the winter, you have REORGANIZED the War Department and addressed, as much as possible, the needs of our forces. In the spring and summer, your mission will be to lead our troops to victory, which is the sure way to achieve peace and strengthen the Republic.







      Bonaparte laughed heartily while he dictated this epistle, especially when
      he uttered the word which I have marked in italics [CAPS]. Berthier set
      out for Dijon, where he commenced the formation of the army of reserve.
    
Bonaparte laughed loudly while he dictated this letter, especially when he said the word I’ve highlighted in italics [CAPS]. Berthier left for Dijon, where he started forming the reserve army.







      The Consular Constitution did not empower the First Consul to command an
      army out of the territory of France. Bonaparte therefore wished to keep
      secret his long-projected plan of placing himself at the head of the army
      of Italy, which he then for the first time called the grand army. I
      observed that by his choice of Berthier nobody could be deceived, because
      it must be evident that he would have made another selection had he not
      intended to command in person. He laughed at my observation.
    
The Consular Constitution didn’t allow the First Consul to lead an army outside of France. Bonaparte, therefore, wanted to keep his long-planned idea of taking charge of the army in Italy secret, which he then for the first time called the grand army. I noticed that with his choice of Berthier, no one could be fooled, because it was clear he would have picked someone else if he didn’t plan to take command himself. He laughed at my comment.







      Our departure from Paris was fixed for the 6th of May, or, according to
      the republican calendar, the 16th Floréal. Bonaparte had made all his
      arrangements and issued all his orders; but still he did not wish it to be
      known that he was going to take the command of the army. On the eve of our
      departure, being in conference with the two other Consuls and the
      Ministers, he said to Lucien, "Prepare, to-morrow morning, a circular to
      the prefects, and you, Fouché, will publish it in the journals. Say I am
      gone to Dijon to inspect the army of reserve. You may add that I shall
      perhaps go as far as Geneva; but you must affirm positively that I shall
      not be absent longer than a fortnight. You, Cambacérès, will preside
      to-morrow at the Council of State. In my absence you are the Head of the
      Government. State that my absence will be but of short duration, but
      specify nothing. Express my approbation of the Council of State; it has
      already rendered great services, and I shall be happy to see it continue
      in the course it has hitherto pursued. Oh! I had nearly forgotten—you
      will at the same time announce that I have appointed Joseph a Councillor
      of State. Should anything happen I shall be back again like a thunderbolt.
      I recommend to you all the great interests of France, and I trust that I
      shall shortly be talked of in Vienna and in London."
    
Our departure from Paris was set for May 6th, or, according to the republican calendar, the 16th of Floréal. Bonaparte had made all his plans and given all his orders; however, he still didn’t want anyone to know that he was going to take command of the army. On the night before we left, while in a meeting with the other two Consuls and the Ministers, he told Lucien, "Prepare a circular tomorrow morning for the prefects, and you, Fouché, will publish it in the newspapers. Say that I’ve gone to Dijon to inspect the reserve army. You can add that I might even go as far as Geneva; but you must firmly state that I won’t be gone longer than two weeks. You, Cambacérès, will preside at the Council of State tomorrow. While I’m away, you’re the Head of the Government. Mention that my absence will be brief, but don’t specify anything. Show my approval of the Council of State; it has already done great work, and I’ll be glad to see it continue as it has been going. Oh! I almost forgot—you will also announce that I’ve appointed Joseph as a Councillor of State. If anything comes up, I’ll return like a thunderbolt. I trust you with all the important interests of France, and I hope to be the topic of conversation in Vienna and London soon."







      We set out at two in the morning, taking the Burgundy road, which we had
      already so often travelled under very different circumstances.
    
We left at two in the morning, taking the Burgundy road, which we had already traveled many times before under very different circumstances.







      On the journey Bonaparte conversed about the warriors of antiquity,
      especially Alexander, Caesar, Scipio, and Hannibal. I asked him which he
      preferred, Alexander or Caesar. "I place Alexander in the first rank,"
      said he, "yet I admire Caesar's fine campaign in Africa. But the ground of
      my preference for the King of Macedonia is the plan, and above all the
      execution, of his campaign in Asia. Only those who are utterly ignorant of
      war can blame Alexander for having spent seven months at the siege of
      Tyre. For my part, I would have stayed there seven years had it been
      necessary. This is a great subject of dispute; but I look upon the siege
      of Tyre, the conquest of Egypt, and the journey to the Oasis of Ammon as a
      decided proof of the genius of that great captain. His object was to give
      the King of Persia (of whose force he had only beaten a feeble
      advance-guard at the Granicus and Issus) time to reassemble his troops, so
      that he might overthrow at a blow the colossus which he had as yet only
      shaken. By pursuing Darius into his states Alexander would have separated
      himself from his reinforcements, and would have met only scattered parties
      of troops who would have drawn him into deserts where his army would have
      been sacrificed. By persevering in the taking of Tyre he secured his
      communications with Greece, the country he loved as dearly as I love
      France, and in whose glory he placed his own. By taking possession of the
      rich province of Egypt he forced Darius to come to defend or deliver it,
      and in so doing to march half-way to meet him. By representing himself as
      the son of Jupiter he worked upon the ardent feelings of the Orientals in
      a way that powerfully seconded his designs. Though he died at thirty-three
      what a name he has left behind him!"
    
On the journey, Bonaparte talked about the warriors of ancient times, especially Alexander, Caesar, Scipio, and Hannibal. I asked him which he preferred, Alexander or Caesar. "I rank Alexander at the top," he said, "but I admire Caesar's impressive campaign in Africa. However, my preference for the King of Macedonia comes from the strategy and, above all, the execution of his campaign in Asia. Only those who know nothing about war can criticize Alexander for spending seven months besieging Tyre. Personally, I would have stayed there for seven years if needed. This is a major topic of debate; but I see the siege of Tyre, the conquest of Egypt, and the journey to the Oasis of Ammon as clear proof of that great leader's genius. His goal was to give the King of Persia (whose forces he had only defeated a weak advance-guard at the Granicus and Issus) time to gather his troops, so he could strike down the giant he had only just shaken. By chasing Darius into his territory, Alexander would have cut himself off from reinforcements, facing only scattered groups that would lead him into deserts where his army would have been lost. By continuing the siege of Tyre, he secured his connections with Greece, the country he cherished as much as I cherish France, and in whose glory he found his own. By taking over the wealthy province of Egypt, he forced Darius to come and defend or rescue it, making him march halfway to meet him. By portraying himself as the son of Jupiter, he appealed to the passionate sentiments of the Easterners in a way that greatly supported his plans. Though he died at thirty-three, what a legacy he has left behind!"







      Though an utter stranger to the noble profession of arms, yet I could
      admire Bonaparte's clever military plans and his shrewd remarks on the
      great captains of ancient and modern times. I could not refrain from
      saying, "General, you often reproach me for being no flatterer, but now I
      tell you plainly I admire you." And certainly, I really spoke the true
      sentiments of my mind.
    
Though I’m a complete outsider to the military profession, I couldn’t help but admire Bonaparte’s smart military strategies and his insightful comments about great leaders from both ancient and modern times. I couldn’t hold back from saying, “General, you often criticize me for not being a flatterer, but now I’ll be honest: I admire you.” And I genuinely expressed my true feelings.








 


 

































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      VOLUME II. — 1800-1803
    




















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      CHAPTER I.
    



      1800.
    
1800.


   Bonaparte's confidence in the army—'Ma belle' France—The convent
   of Bernadins—Passage of Mont St. Bernard—Arrival at the convent—
   Refreshments distributed to the soldiers—Mont Albaredo—Artillery
   dismounted—The fort of Bard—Fortunate temerity—Bonaparte and
   Melas—The spy—Bonaparte's opinion of M. Necker—Capitulation of
   Genoa—Intercepted despatch—Lannes at Montebello—Boudet succeeded
   by Desaix—Coolness of the First Consul to M. Collot—Conversation
   and recollections—The battle of Marengo—General Kellerman—Supper
   sent from the Convent del Bosco—Particulars respecting the death of
   Desaix—The Prince of Lichtenstein—Return to Milan—Savary and
   Rapp.

   Bonaparte's confidence in the army—'My beautiful' France—The Bernadins convent—Crossing Mont St. Bernard—Arrival at the convent—Refreshments handed out to the soldiers—Mont Albaredo—Artillery taken down—The fort of Bard—Fortunate boldness—Bonaparte and Melas—The spy—Bonaparte's view of M. Necker—Capitulation of Genoa—Intercepted message—Lannes at Montebello—Boudet replaced by Desaix—Coolness of the First Consul towards M. Collot—Conversation and memories—The battle of Marengo—General Kellerman—Dinner sent from the Convent del Bosco—Details regarding Desaix's death—The Prince of Lichtenstein—Return to Milan—Savary and Rapp.







      It cannot be denied that if, from the 18th Brumaire to the epoch when
      Bonaparte began the campaign, innumerable improvements had been made in
      the internal affairs of France, foreign affairs could not be seen with the
      same satisfaction. Italy had been lost, and from the frontiers of Provence
      the Austrian camp fires were seen. Bonaparte was not ignorant of the
      difficulties of his position, and it was even on account of these very
      difficulties that, whatever might be the result of his hardy enterprise,
      he wished to escape from it as quickly as possible. He cherished no
      illusions, and often said all must be staked to gain all.
    
It’s undeniable that from the 18th Brumaire until Bonaparte began his campaign, there were countless improvements in France's internal affairs, but foreign affairs were a different story. Italy had been lost, and from the borders of Provence, you could see the flames from the Austrian camps. Bonaparte was aware of the challenges he faced, and it was precisely because of these challenges that, no matter what the outcome of his bold venture might be, he wanted to get out of it as quickly as he could. He didn’t hold any illusions and often said that everything had to be risked to gain everything.







      The army which the First Consul was preparing to attack was numerous, well
      disciplined, and victorious.
    
The army that the First Consul was getting ready to attack was large, well-trained, and successful.







      His, with the exception of a very small number of troops, was composed of
      conscripts; but these conscripts were commanded by officers whose ardour
      was unparalleled. Bonaparte's fortune was now to depend on the winning or
      losing of a battle. A battle lost would have dispelled all the dreams of
      his imagination, and with them would have vanished all his immense schemes
      for the future of France. He saw the danger, but was not intimidated by
      it; and trusting to his accustomed good fortune, and to the courage and
      fidelity of his troops, he said, "I have, it is true, many conscripts in
      my army, but they are Frenchmen. Four years ago did I not with a feeble
      army drive before me hordes of Sardinians and Austrians, and scour the
      face of Italy? We shall do so again. The sun which now shines on us is the
      same that shone at Arcola and Lodi. I rely on Massena. I hope he will hold
      out in Genoa. But should famine oblige him to surrender, I will retake
      Genoa in the plains of the Scrivia. With what pleasure shall I then return
      to my dear France! Ma belle France."
    
His army, except for a very small number of troops, was made up of conscripts; but these conscripts were led by officers with unmatched enthusiasm. Bonaparte's success now relied on winning or losing a battle. Losing a battle would shatter all the dreams he envisioned and wipe out his grand plans for the future of France. He recognized the danger but wasn’t scared by it; trusting in his usual good luck, as well as the bravery and loyalty of his troops, he stated, "I do have many conscripts in my army, but they are Frenchmen. Four years ago, didn’t I lead a weak army to drive away hordes of Sardinians and Austrians, roaming across Italy? We will do it again. The sun shining on us now is the same one that shone at Arcola and Lodi. I have faith in Massena. I hope he can hold out in Genoa. But if famine forces him to surrender, I will reclaim Genoa on the plains of the Scrivia. How happy I will be to return to my beloved France! My beautiful France."







      At this moment, when a possible, nay, a probable chance, might for ever
      have blasted his ambitious hopes, he for the first time spoke of France as
      his. Considering the circumstances in which we then stood, this use of the
      possessive pronoun "my" describes more forcibly than anything that can be
      said the flashes of divination which crossed Bonaparte's brain when he was
      wrapped up in his chimerical ideas of glory and fortune.
    
At this moment, when a possible, if not likely, chance could have shattered his ambitious dreams forever, he finally referred to France as his. Given the situation we were in at that time, this use of the possessive word "my" powerfully conveys the flashes of insight that crossed Bonaparte's mind while he was lost in his fanciful thoughts of glory and success.







      In this favourable disposition of mind the First Consul arrived at
      Martigny on the 20th of May. Martigny is a convent of Bernardins, situated
      in a valley where the rays of the sun scarcely ever penetrate. The army
      was in full march to the Great St. Bernard. In this gloomy solitude did
      Bonaparte wait three days, expecting the fort of Bard, situated beyond the
      mountain and covering the road to Yvree, to surrender. The town was
      carried on the 21st of May, and on the third day he learned that the fort
      still held out, and that there were no indications of its surrender. He
      launched into complaints against the commander of the siege, and said, "I
      am weary of staying in this convent; those fools will never take Bard; I
      must go myself and see what can be done. They cannot even settle so
      contemptible an affair without me!" He immediately gave orders for our
      departure.
    
In this positive state of mind, the First Consul arrived in Martigny on May 20th. Martigny has a convent of Bernardins, located in a valley where sunlight barely reaches. The army was fully marching to the Great St. Bernard. In this dark solitude, Bonaparte waited three days, expecting the fort of Bard, located beyond the mountain and guarding the road to Yvree, to surrender. The town fell on May 21st, and on the third day he learned that the fort was still holding out, with no signs of its surrender. He began to complain about the commander of the siege, saying, "I’m tired of staying in this convent; those idiots will never take Bard; I have to go see what I can do. They can’t even handle such a minor issue without me!" He immediately ordered our departure.







      The grand idea of the invasion of Italy by crossing Mont St. Bernard
      emanated exclusively from the First Consul. This miraculous achievement
      justly excited the admiration of the world. The incredible difficulties it
      presented did not daunt the courage of Bonaparte's troops. His generals,
      accustomed as they had been to brave fatigue and danger, regarded without
      concern the gigantic enterprise of the modern Hannibal.
    
The bold plan to invade Italy by crossing Mont St. Bernard came entirely from the First Consul. This amazing feat rightfully captured the world's admiration. The immense challenges it posed didn’t discourage the bravery of Bonaparte's soldiers. His generals, used to facing exhaustion and peril, viewed the colossal undertaking of the modern Hannibal with little worry.







      A convent or hospice, which had been established on the mountain for the
      purpose of affording assistance to solitary travellers, sufficiently
      bespeaks the dangers of these stormy regions. But the St. Bernard was now
      to be crossed, not by solitary travellers, but by an army. Cavalry,
      baggage, limbers, and artillery were now to wend their way along those
      narrow paths where the goat-herd cautiously picks his footsteps. On the
      one hand masses of snow, suspended above our heads, every moment
      threatened to break in avalanches, and sweep us away in their descent. On
      the other, a false step was death. We all passed, men and horse, one by
      one, along the goat paths. The artillery was dismounted, and the guns, put
      into excavated trunks of trees, were drawn by ropes.
    
A convent or hospice had been set up on the mountain to help solitary travelers, highlighting the dangers of these stormy areas. But now the St. Bernard was to be crossed not by lone travelers, but by an army. Cavalry, supplies, wagons, and artillery had to navigate those narrow paths where the goat-herd carefully places his feet. On one side, large masses of snow, hanging overhead, constantly threatened to break into avalanches and bury us beneath their weight. On the other, a misstep could mean death. We all moved through one by one, men and horses alike, along the goat paths. The artillery was taken apart, and the cannons, placed into hollowed-out tree trunks, were pulled by ropes.







      I have already mentioned that the First Consul had transmitted funds to
      the hospice of the Great St. Bernard. The good fathers had procured from
      the two valleys a considerable supply of cheese, bread, and wine. Tables
      were laid out in front of the hospice, and each soldier as he defiled past
      took a glass of wine and a piece of bread and cheese, and then resigned
      his place to the next. The fathers served, and renewed the portions with
      admirable order and activity.
    
I already mentioned that the First Consul had sent money to the Great St. Bernard hospice. The kind fathers had gathered a good amount of cheese, bread, and wine from the two valleys. Tables were set up in front of the hospice, and as each soldier passed by, he took a glass of wine and a piece of bread and cheese, then gave his spot to the next person. The fathers served and replenished the portions with impressive organization and efficiency.







      The First Consul ascended the St. Bernard with that calm self-possession
      and that air of indifference for which he was always remarkable when he
      felt the necessity of setting an example and exposing himself to danger.
      He asked his guide many questions about the two valleys, inquired what
      were the resources of the inhabitants, and whether accidents were as
      frequent as they were said to be. The guide informed him that the
      experience of ages enabled the inhabitants to foresee good or bad weather,
      and that they were seldom deceived.
    
The First Consul climbed St. Bernard with the same calm confidence and indifference that he was known for whenever he felt the need to set an example and put himself in danger. He asked his guide a lot of questions about the two valleys, what resources the locals had, and if accidents happened as often as people said. The guide told him that generations of experience allowed the locals to predict good or bad weather, and they were rarely wrong.







      Bonaparte, who wore his gray greatcoat, and had his whip in his hand,
      appeared somewhat disappointed at not seeing any one come from the valley
      of Aorta to inform him of the taking of the fort of Bard. I never left him
      for a moment during the ascent. We encountered no personal danger, and
      escaped with no other inconvenience than excessive fatigue.
    
Bonaparte, wearing his gray greatcoat and holding his whip, looked a bit let down that no one came from the valley of Aorta to tell him about the capture of the fort of Bard. I stayed by his side the whole time during the climb. We faced no real danger and only had to deal with enough fatigue.







      On his arrival at the convent the First Consul visited the chapel and the
      three little libraries. He had time to read a few pages of an old book, of
      which I have forgotten the title.
    
On his arrival at the convent, the First Consul visited the chapel and the three small libraries. He had time to read a few pages of an old book, but I can't remember the title.







      Our breakfast-dinner was very frugal. The little garden was still covered
      with snow, and I said to one of the fathers, "You can have but few
      vegetables here."—"We get our vegetables from the valleys," he
      replied; "but in the month of August, in warm seasons, we have a few
      lettuces of our own growing."
    
Our breakfast-dinner was really simple. The small garden was still covered in snow, and I said to one of the fathers, "You can hardly grow any vegetables here."—"We get our vegetables from the valleys," he replied; "but in August, during warm seasons, we have a few of our own lettuce."







      When we reached the summit of the mountain we seated ourselves on the snow
      and slid down. Those who went first smoothed the way for those who came
      behind them. This rapid descent greatly amused us, and we were only
      stopped by the mud which succeeded the snow at the distance of five or six
      hundred toises down the declivity.
    
When we got to the top of the mountain, we sat on the snow and slid down. Those who went first cleared the path for those who followed. This fast descent really entertained us, and we were only stopped by the mud that came after the snow about five or six hundred toises down the slope.







      We crossed, or rather climbed up, Mont Albaredo to avoid passing under the
      fort of Bard, which closes the valley of Aorta. As it was impossible to
      get the artillery up this mountain it was resolved to convey it through
      the town of Bard, which was not fortified. For this operation we made
      choice of night, and the wheels of the cannon and caissons, and even the
      horses' feet, being wrapped in straw, the whole passed quietly through the
      little town. They were, indeed, under the fire of the fort; however, it
      did not so completely command the street but that the houses would have
      protected them against any very fatal consequences. A great part of the
      army had passed before the surrender of the fort, which so completely
      commands the narrow valley leading to Aorta that it is difficult to
      comprehend the negligence of the Austrians in not throwing up more
      efficient works; by very simple precautions they might have rendered the
      passage of St. Bernard unavailing.
    
We climbed up Mont Albaredo to avoid going under the fort of Bard, which blocks the Aorta valley. Since it was impossible to get the artillery up this mountain, we decided to transport it through the town of Bard, which wasn't fortified. We chose to do this at night, and we covered the wheels of the cannons and caissons, as well as the horses' hooves, with straw so we could pass quietly through the small town. They were indeed under fire from the fort, but the fort didn't completely dominate the street, and the houses would have provided some protection against serious consequences. A large part of the army had already passed before the fort surrendered, which completely dominates the narrow valley leading to Aorta, making it hard to understand why the Austrians didn't build more effective defenses; with just a few simple precautions, they could have made the St. Bernard passage ineffective.







      On the 23d we came within sight of the fort of Bard, which commands the
      road bounded by the Doria Baltea on the right and Mont Albaredo on the
      left. The Doria Baltea is a small torrent which separates the town of Bard
      from the fort. Bonaparte, whose retinue was not very numerous, crossed the
      torrent. On arriving within gunshot of the fort he ordered us to quicken
      our pace to gain a little bridle-path on the left, leading to the summit
      of Mont Albaredo, and turning the town and fort of Bard.
    
On the 23rd, we finally saw the fort of Bard, which overlooks the road flanked by the Doria Baltea on the right and Mont Albaredo on the left. The Doria Baltea is a small stream that separates the town of Bard from the fort. Bonaparte, whose entourage wasn't very large, crossed the stream. When we were within firing range of the fort, he told us to speed up to reach a small path on the left that leads to the top of Mont Albaredo, bypassing the town and fort of Bard.







      We ascended this path on foot with some difficulty. On reaching the summit
      of the mountain, which commands the fort, Bonaparte levelled his telescope
      on the grass, and stationing himself behind some bushes, which served at
      once to shelter and conceal him, he attentively reconnoitered the fort.
      After addressing several questions to the persons who had come to give him
      information, he mentioned, in a tone of dissatisfaction, the faults that
      had been committed, and ordered the erection of a new battery to attack a
      point which he marked out, and from whence, he guaranteed, the firing of a
      few shots would oblige the fort to surrender. Having given these orders he
      descended the mountain and went to sleep that night at Yvree. On the 3d of
      June he learned that the fort had surrendered the day before.
    
We hiked up this path with some difficulty. When we reached the top of the mountain, which overlooks the fort, Bonaparte set up his telescope on the grass and, hiding behind some bushes that offered him cover and concealment, he carefully observed the fort. After asking several questions to the people who had come to inform him, he expressed his dissatisfaction with the mistakes that had been made and ordered the construction of a new battery to target a specific point he identified, assuring everyone that firing a few shots from there would force the fort to surrender. After giving these orders, he went back down the mountain and spent that night in Yvree. On June 3rd, he learned that the fort had surrendered the day before.







      The passage of Mont St. Bernard must occupy a great place in the annals of
      successful temerity. The boldness of the First Consul seemed, as it were,
      to have fascinated the enemy, and his enterprise was so unexpected that
      not a single Austrian corps defended the approaches of the fort of Bard.
      The country was entirely exposed, and we only encountered here and there a
      few feeble parties, who were incapable of checking our march upon Milan.
      Bonaparte's advance astonished and confounded the enemy, who thought of
      nothing but marching back the way he came, and renouncing the invasion of
      France. The bold genius which actuated Bonaparte did not inspire General
      Melas, the commander-in-chief of the Austrian forces. If Melas had had the
      firmness which ought to belong to the leader of an army—if he had
      compared the respective positions of the two parties—if he had
      considered that there was no longer time to regain his line of operations
      and recover his communication with the Hereditary States, that he was
      master of all the strong places in Italy, that he had nothing to fear from
      Massena, that Suchet could not resist him:—if, then, following
      Bonaparte's example, he had marched upon Lyons, what would have become of
      the First Consul? Melas would have found few obstacles, and almost
      everywhere open towns, while the French army would have been exhausted
      without having an enemy to fight. This is, doubtless, what Bonaparte would
      have done had he been Melas; but, fortunately for us, Melas was not
      Bonaparte.
    
The crossing of Mont St. Bernard has a significant place in the history of bold ventures. The daring of the First Consul seemed to mesmerize the enemy, and his plan was so unexpected that not a single Austrian unit defended the approaches to the fortress of Bard. The region was completely open, and we only came across a few weak groups that couldn’t stop our march toward Milan. Bonaparte's advance surprised and bewildered the enemy, who only thought about retreating to where they had come from and abandoning the invasion of France. The bold spirit that drove Bonaparte didn’t inspire General Melas, the commander of the Austrian forces. If Melas had possessed the resolve that a leader of an army should have—if he had assessed the positions of both sides—if he had realized there was no longer time to regain his operational lines and connect with the Hereditary States, that he controlled all the strongholds in Italy, that he had nothing to fear from Massena, and that Suchet couldn’t resist him:—if he had then followed Bonaparte's example and marched on Lyons, what would have happened to the First Consul? Melas would have faced few obstacles and almost entirely open towns, while the French army would have been worn out without any enemy to confront. This is undoubtedly what Bonaparte would have done if he were in Melas's position; but, fortunately for us, Melas was not Bonaparte.







      We arrived at Milan on the 2d of June, the day on which the First Consul
      heard that the fort of Bard was taken. But little resistance was opposed
      to our entrance to the capital of Lombardy, and the term "engagements" can
      scarcely be applied to a few affairs of advance posts, in which success
      could not be for a moment doubtful; the fort of Milan was immediately
      blockaded. Murat was sent to Piacenza, of which he took possession without
      difficulty, and Lannes beat General Ott at Montebello. He was far from
      imagining that by that exploit he conquered for himself a future duchy!
    
We arrived in Milan on June 2nd, the same day the First Consul learned that the fort of Bard had fallen. There was hardly any resistance to our entry into the capital of Lombardy, and the term "engagements" hardly applies to a few minor skirmishes at the advance posts, where success was never in doubt; the fort of Milan was quickly surrounded. Murat was sent to Piacenza, which he took over easily, and Lannes defeated General Ott at Montebello. He had no idea that this victory would earn him a future duchy!







      The First Consul passed six days at Milan. On the day after our arrival
      there a spy who had served us very well in the first campaign in Italy was
      announced. The First Consul recollected him, and ordered him to be shown
      into his cabinet.—"What, are you here?" he exclaimed; "so you are
      not shot yet!"—"General," replied the spy, "when the war recommenced
      I determined to serve the Austrians because you were far from Europe. I
      always follow the fortunate; but the truth is, I am tired of the trade. I
      wish to have done with it, and to get enough to enable me to retire. I
      have been sent to your lines by General Melas, and I can render you an
      important service. I will give an exact account of the force and the
      position of all the enemy's corps, and the names of their commanders. I
      can tell you the situation in which Alessandria now is. You know me, I
      will not deceive you; but, I must carry back some report to my general.
      You need not care for giving me some true particulars which I can
      communicate to him."—"Oh! as to that," resumed the First Consul,
      "the enemy is welcome to know my forces and my positions, provided I know
      his, and he be ignorant of my plans. You shall be satisfied; but do not
      deceive me: you ask for 1000 Louis, you shall have them if you serve me
      well." I then wrote down from the dictation of the spy, the names of the
      corps, their amount, their positions, names of the generals commanding
      them. The Consul stuck pins in the map to mark his plans on places
      respecting which he received information from the spy. We also learned
      that Alexandria was without provisions, that Melas was far from expecting
      a siege, that many of his troops were sick, and that he wanted medicines.
      Berthier was ordered to draw up for the spy a nearly accurate statement of
      our positions.
    
The First Consul spent six days in Milan. The day after we arrived, a spy who had been very helpful to us during the first campaign in Italy was brought to us. The First Consul recognized him and asked to see him in his office. “What, you’re still alive?” he exclaimed. “General,” the spy replied, “when the war started up again, I chose to serve the Austrians since you were far away from Europe. I always stick with the winning side, but honestly, I’m tired of this work. I want to be done with it and earn enough to retire. General Melas sent me to your lines, and I can provide you with important information. I can give you an accurate account of the enemy’s forces and positions, as well as the names of their commanders. I know the current situation in Alessandria. You know me; I won’t deceive you, but I do need to report back to my general. You don’t need to worry about giving me some true details that I can share with him.” “As for that,” the First Consul replied, “the enemy can know my forces and positions as long as I know his and he doesn’t know my plans. You’ll be satisfied; just don’t lie to me: you’re asking for 1000 Louis, and you’ll get them if you do your job well.” I then wrote down the names of the corps, their sizes, their positions, and the names of the generals in charge, based on the spy’s information. The Consul used pins on the map to mark out his plans for areas where he received information from the spy. We also discovered that Alessandria was running low on supplies, that Melas wasn’t expecting a siege, that many of his troops were ill, and that he needed medicine. Berthier was instructed to prepare a fairly accurate report of our positions for the spy.







      The information given by this man proved so accurate and useful that on
      his return from Marengo Bonaparte ordered me to pay him the 1000 Louis.
      The spy afterwards informed him that Melas was delighted with the way in
      which he had served him in this affair, and had rewarded him handsomely.
      He assured us that he had bidden farewell to his odious profession. The
      First Consul regarded this little event as one of the favours of fortune.
    
The information provided by this man was so accurate and valuable that upon his return from Marengo, Bonaparte instructed me to pay him 1000 Louis. The spy later told him that Melas was very pleased with how he had helped him in this situation and had rewarded him generously. He assured us that he had said goodbye to his unpleasant profession. The First Consul saw this small event as one of luck's favors.







      In passing through Geneva the First Consul had an interview with M.
      Necker.
    
In passing through Geneva, the First Consul met with M. Necker.






 —[Madame de Stael briefly mention this interview in her
   'Considerations sur la Revolution Francaise' "M. Necker," she says,
   "had an interview with Bonaparte, when he was on his way to Italy by
   the passage of Mont. St. Bernard, a few days before the battle of
   Marengo. During this conversation, which lasted two hours, the First
   Consul made a very favourable impression on my father by the
   confident way he spoke of his future projects."—Bourrienne.]— 
—[Madame de Stael briefly mentions this meeting in her 'Considerations sur la Revolution Francaise.' "M. Necker," she says, "had a meeting with Bonaparte when he was on his way to Italy via the Mont. St. Bernard pass, a few days before the battle of Marengo. During this conversation, which lasted two hours, the First Consul left a very favorable impression on my father with the confident way he spoke about his future plans."—Bourrienne.]—







      I know not how it happened, but at the time he did not speak to me of this
      interview. However, I was curious to know what he thought of a man who had
      acquired much celebrity in France. One evening, when we were talking of
      one thing and another, I managed to turn the conversation on that subject.
      "M. Necker," said he, "appears to me very far below his reputation. He did
      not equal the idea I had formed of him. I tried all I could to get him to
      talk; but he said nothing remarkable. He is an ideologist—
    
I’m not sure how it happened, but at that time, he didn’t mention this interview to me. Still, I was curious about what he thought of a man who had become quite famous in France. One evening, while we were chatting about various topics, I managed to steer the conversation in that direction. "M. Necker," he said, "seems to me far below his reputation. He didn’t live up to the image I had of him. I did my best to get him to talk, but he didn't say anything noteworthy. He’s an ideologist—






 —[This was a constant term of reproach with Bonaparte. He set all
   the metaphysicians of the Continent against him by exclaiming, "Je
   ne veux point d'ideologues."]— 
 —[This was a constant source of criticism for Bonaparte. He rallied all the philosophers on the Continent against him by declaring, "I don’t want any ideologues."]—







      a banker. It is impossible that such a man can have any but narrow views;
      and, besides, most celebrated people lose on a close view."— "Not
      always, General," observed I—"Ah!" said he, smiling, "that is not
      bad, Bourrienne. You are improving. I see I shall make something of you in
      time!"
    
a banker. There's no way someone like that can have anything but narrow views; besides, most famous people look different up close."— "Not always, General," I replied—"Ah!" he said, smiling, "that's not bad, Bourrienne. You're getting better. I can tell I'll be able to do something with you eventually!"







      The day was approaching when all was to be lost or won. The First Consul
      made all his arrangements, and sent off the different corps to occupy the
      points he had marked out. I have already mentioned that Murat's task was
      the occupation of Piacenza. As soon as he was in possession of that town
      he intercepted a courier of General Melas. The despatch, which was
      addressed to the Aulic Council of Vienna, was delivered to us on the night
      of the 8th of June. It announced the capitulation of Genoa, which took
      place on the 4th, after the long and memorable defence which reflected so
      much honour on Massena. Melas in his despatch spoke of what he called our
      pretended army of reserve with inconceivable contempt, and alluded to the
      presence of Bonaparte in Italy as a mere fabrication. He declared he was
      still in Paris. It was past three in the morning when Murat's courier
      arrived. I immediately translated the despatch, which was in German. About
      four o'clock I entered the chamber of the First Consul, whom I was obliged
      to shake by the arm in order to wake him. He had desired me; as I have
      already mentioned, never to respect his repose an the arrival of bad news;
      but on the receipt of good news to let him sleep. I read to him the
      despatch, and so much was he confounded by this unexpected event that his
      first exclamation was, "Bah! you do not understand German." But hardly had
      he uttered these words when he arose, and by eight o'clock in the morning
      orders were despatched for repairing the possible consequences of this
      disaster, and countermanding the march of the troops on the Scrivia. He
      himself proceeded the same day to Stradella.
    
The day was getting close when everything was to be lost or won. The First Consul made all his plans and sent out the different groups to take the positions he had identified. I've already mentioned that Murat's job was to occupy Piacenza. Once he took control of that town, he caught a courier from General Melas. The message, which was addressed to the Aulic Council in Vienna, was delivered to us on the night of June 8th. It reported the surrender of Genoa, which happened on the 4th, after a long and impressive defense that brought great honor to Massena. In his message, Melas spoke about what he called our so-called army of reserve with unbelievable contempt and referred to Bonaparte’s presence in Italy as just a made-up story. He claimed he was still in Paris. It was past three in the morning when Murat's courier arrived. I immediately translated the message, which was in German. Around four o'clock, I went into the First Consul's room, having to shake his arm to wake him up. He had instructed me, as I've already mentioned, never to respect his rest when bad news arrived; however, when good news came, I should let him sleep. I read the message to him, and he was so shocked by this unexpected news that his first response was, "Bah! You don’t understand German." But hardly had he said these words when he got up, and by eight o'clock that morning, orders were sent out to address the potential fallout from this disaster and to cancel the advance of troops toward the Scrivia. He himself headed to Stradella the same day.







      I have seen it mentioned in some accounts that the First Consul in person
      gained the battle of Montebello. This is a mistake. He did not leave Milan
      until the 9th of June, and that very day Lannes was engaged with the
      enemy. The conflict was so terrible that Lannes, a few days after,
      describing it in my presence to M. Collot, used these remarkable words,
      which I well remember: "Bones were cracking in my division like a shower
      of hail falling on a skylight."
    
I’ve read in some accounts that the First Consul personally won the battle of Montebello. That’s not accurate. He didn’t leave Milan until June 9th, and on that very day, Lannes was fighting the enemy. The battle was so brutal that a few days later, when Lannes was recounting it to M. Collot in my presence, he used these striking words, which I clearly remember: “Bones were cracking in my division like hail falling on a skylight.”







      By a singular chance Desaix, who was to contribute to the victory and stop
      the rout of Marengo, arrived from Egypt at Toulon, on the very day on
      which we departed from Paris. He was enabled to leave Egypt in consequence
      of the capitulation of El-Arish, which happened on the 4th of January
      1800. He wrote me a letter, dated 16th Floréal, year VIII. (6th of May
      1800), announcing his arrival. This letter I did not receive until we
      reached Martigny. I showed it to the First Consul. "Ah!" exclaimed he,
      "Desaix in Paris!" and he immediately despatched an order for him to
      repair to the headquarters of the army of Italy wherever they might be.
      Desaix arrived at Stradella on the morning of the 11th of June. The First
      Consul received him with the warmest cordiality, as a man for whom he had
      a high esteem, and whose talents and character afforded the fairest
      promise of what might one day be expected of him. Bonaparte was jealous of
      some generals, the rivalry of whose ambition he feared; but on this
      subject Desaix gave him no uneasiness; equally remarkable for his
      unassuming disposition, his talent, and information, he proved by his
      conduct that he loved glory for her own sake, and that every wish for the
      possession of political power was foreign to his mind. Bonaparte's
      friendship for him was enthusiastic. At this interview at Stradella,
      Desaix was closeted with the First Consul for upwards of three hours. On
      the day after his arrival an order of the day communicated to the army
      that Desaix was appointed to the command of Boudet's division.
    
By a fortunate coincidence, Desaix, who was set to help secure the victory and halt the defeat at Marengo, arrived in Toulon from Egypt on the very day we left Paris. He was able to leave Egypt due to the surrender of El-Arish on January 4, 1800. He wrote me a letter dated 16th Floréal, year VIII. (May 6, 1800), announcing his arrival. I didn't receive this letter until we got to Martigny. I showed it to the First Consul. "Ah!" he exclaimed, "Desaix is in Paris!" and he immediately sent an order for him to join the headquarters of the army of Italy, wherever it might be. Desaix arrived in Stradella on the morning of June 11. The First Consul welcomed him with great warmth, as he held him in high regard and saw great potential in his talents and character. Bonaparte felt uneasy about some generals, fearing their competitive ambitions; however, with Desaix, he felt no such concern. Remarkably humble, talented, and knowledgeable, Desaix demonstrated through his actions that he sought glory for its own sake and had no desire for political power. Bonaparte's friendship for him was passionate. During their meeting in Stradella, Desaix spent over three hours alone with the First Consul. The day after his arrival, a daily order was issued to the army announcing that Desaix was appointed to lead Boudet's division.






 —[Boudet was on terms of great intimacy with Bonaparte, who, no
   doubt, was much affected at his death. However, the only remark he
   made on receiving the intelligence, was "Who the devil shall I get
   to supply Boudet's place?"—Bourrienne.

   The command given to Desaix was a corps especially formed of the two
   divisions of Boudet and Monnier (Savary, tome i. p. 262). Boudet
   was not killed at Marengo, still less before (see Erreurs, tome i.
   p. 14).]— 
—Boudet was very close to Bonaparte, who was undoubtedly upset by his death. However, the only thing he said upon hearing the news was, "Who the heck am I going to get to take Boudet's place?"—Bourrienne.

The command given to Desaix was a corps specifically formed from the two divisions of Boudet and Monnier (Savary, tome i. p. 262). Boudet was not killed at Marengo, let alone before (see Erreurs, tome i. p. 14).—







      I expressed to Bonaparte my surprise at his long interview with Desaix.
      "Yes," replied he, "he has been a long time with me; but you know what a
      favourite he is. As soon as I return to Paris I will make him War
      Minister. I would make him a prince if I could. He is quite an antique
      character." Desaix died two days after he had completed his thirty-third
      year, and in less than a week after the above observations.
    
I told Bonaparte I was surprised by how long he had been talking with Desaix.  
      "Yeah," he said, "he's been with me for a while; but you know how much I like him. As soon as I'm back in Paris, I'll make him War Minister. If I could, I'd make him a prince. He's quite an old-fashioned guy." Desaix died two days after turning thirty-three, and it was less than a week after this conversation.







      About this time M. Collot came to Italy and saw Bonaparte at Milan. The
      latter received him coldly, though he had not yet gained the battle of
      Marengo. M. Collot had been on the most intimate footing with Bonaparte,
      and had rendered him many valuable services. These circumstances
      sufficiently accounted for Bonaparte's coolness, for he would never
      acknowledge himself under obligations to any one, and he did not like
      those who were initiated into certain family secrets which he had resolved
      to conceal.
    
Around this time, M. Collot arrived in Italy and met Bonaparte in Milan. Bonaparte greeted him coldly, even though he hadn’t yet won the battle of Marengo. M. Collot had been very close to Bonaparte and had provided him with many valuable services. These factors explain Bonaparte's coldness, as he would never admit he owed anyone anything, and he disliked those who were privy to certain family secrets he intended to keep hidden.






 —[The day after the interview I had a long conversation with M.
   Collot while Bonaparte was gone to review some corps stationed at
   Milan. M. Collot perfectly understood the cause of the unkind
   treatment he had experienced, and of which he gave me the following
   explanation:

   Some days before the Consulate—that is to say, two or three days
   after our return from Egypt,—Bonaparte, during his jealous fit,
   spoke to M. Collot about his wife, her levities, and their
   publicity. "Henceforth," said Bonaparte, "I will have nothing to do
   with her."—"What, would you part from her?"—"Does not her conduct
   justify me in so doing?"—"I do not know; but is this the time to
   think of such a thing, when the eyes of all France are fixed upon
   you? These domestic squabbles will degrade you in the eyes of the
   people, who expect you to be wholly devoted to their interests; and
   you will be laughed at, like one of Molière's husbands, if you are
   displeased with your wife's conduct you can call her to account when
   you have nothing better to do. Begin by raising up the state.
   After that you may find a thousand reasons for your resentment when
   now you would not find one. You know the French people well enough
   to see how important it is that you should not commence with this
   absurdity."

   By these and other similar remarks M. Collot thought he had produced
   some impression, when Bonaparte suddenly exclaimed: "No, my
   determination is fixed; she shall never again enter my house. I
   care not what people say. They will gossip about the affair for two
   days, and on the third it will be forgotten. She shall go to
   Malmaison, and I will live here. The public know enough, not to be
   mistaken as to the reasons of her removal."

   M. Collot vainly endeavoured to calm his irritation. Bonaparte
   vented a torrent of reproaches upon Josephine. "All this violence,"
   observed M. Collot, "proves that you still love her. Do but see
   her, she will explain the business to your satisfaction and you will
   forgive her."—"I forgive her! Never! Collot, you know me. If I
   were not sure of my own resolution, I would tear out this heart, and
   cast it into the fire." Here anger almost choked his utterance, and
   he made a motion with his hand as if tearing his breast.

   When this violent paroxysm had somewhat subsided M. Collot withdrew;
   but before he went away Bonaparte invited him to breakfast on the
   following morning.

   At ten o'clock M. Collot was there, and as he was passing through
   the courtyard he was informed that Madame Bonaparte, who, as I have
   already mentioned, had gone to Lyons without meeting the General,
   had returned during the night. On M. Collot's entrance Bonaparte
   appeared considerably embarrassed. He led him into a side room, not
   wishing to bring him into the room where I was writing. "Well,"
   said Bonaparte to M. Collot, "she is here."—"I rejoice to hear it.
   You have done well for yourself as well as for us."—"But do not
   imagine I have forgiven her. As long as I live I shall suspect.
   The fact is, that on her arrival I desired her to be gone; but that
   fool Joseph was there. What could I do, Collot? I saw her descend
   the staircase followed by Eugine and Hortense. They were all
   weeping; and I have not a heart to resist tears. Eugène was with me
   in Egypt. I have been accustomed to look upon him as my adopted
   son. He is a fine brave lad. Hortense is just about to be
   introduced into society, and she is admired by all who know her.
   I confess, Collot, I was deeply moved; I could not endure the
   distress of the two poor children. 'Should they,' thought I,
   'suffer for their mother's faults?' I called back Eugène and
   Hortense, and their mother followed them. What could I say, what
   could I do? I should not be a man without some weakness."—
   "Be assured they will reward you for this."—"They ought, Collot
   they ought; for it has cost me a hard struggle." After this
   dialogue Bonaparte and M. Collot entered the breakfast-parlour,
   where I was then sitting. Eugène breakfasted with us, but neither
   Josephine nor Hortense. I have already related how I acted the part
   of mediator in this affair. Next day nothing was wanting to
   complete the reconciliation between the Conqueror of Egypt and the
   charming woman who conquered Bonaparte.—Bourrienne.]— 
 —[The day after the interview, I had a lengthy conversation with M. Collot while Bonaparte was away inspecting some corps stationed in Milan. M. Collot understood perfectly the reason for the unkind treatment he had received, and he gave me the following explanation:

   A few days before the Consulate—specifically, two or three days after our return from Egypt—Bonaparte, in a fit of jealousy, spoke to M. Collot about his wife, her flirtations, and their publicity. "From now on," Bonaparte said, "I want nothing to do with her."—"What, are you going to separate from her?"—"Doesn’t her behavior justify me?"—"I don’t know; but is now the right time to think about something like this, when all of France is watching you? These domestic disputes will make you look bad in the eyes of the people, who expect you to be completely focused on their interests. You’ll be mocked, like one of Molière's husbands. If you’re upset about your wife’s conduct, you can address it later when you have nothing more important to deal with. Start by strengthening the state. After that, you’ll find plenty of reasons for your anger when now you wouldn’t find one. You know the French people well enough to realize how crucial it is not to start with this nonsense."

   Through these and similar comments, M. Collot thought he had made an impact, but Bonaparte suddenly declared: "No, my decision is final; she will never set foot in my house again. I don’t care what people think. They’ll gossip about it for two days, and by the third day, it will be forgotten. She will go to Malmaison, and I will stay here. The public knows enough not to be confused about why she’s being removed."

   M. Collot tried in vain to calm his frustration. Bonaparte unleashed a flood of criticism aimed at Josephine. "All this anger," M. Collot observed, "shows that you still love her. Just see her; she’ll explain everything and you’ll forgive her."—"Forgive her? Never! Collot, you know me. If I weren’t certain of my own resolve, I would rip out this heart and throw it into the fire." Here, anger almost choked his words, and he gestured as though tearing at his chest.

   When this intense outburst had somewhat calmed down, M. Collot left; but before he went, Bonaparte invited him to breakfast the next morning.

   At ten o’clock, M. Collot arrived, and as he passed through the courtyard, he was informed that Madame Bonaparte—who, as I mentioned earlier, had gone to Lyon without meeting the General—had returned during the night. Upon entering, M. Collot found Bonaparte noticeably uncomfortable. He led him into a side room, not wanting to bring him where I was writing. "Well," Bonaparte said to M. Collot, "she’s here."—"I’m glad to hear it. You’ve done well for both yourself and for us."—"But don’t think I’ve forgiven her. As long as I live, I’ll be suspicious. The truth is, when she arrived, I wanted her to leave; but that fool Joseph was there. What could I do, Collot? I saw her coming down the stairs, followed by Eugène and Hortense. They were all crying, and I can’t resist tears. Eugène was with me in Egypt. I've come to see him as my adopted son. He’s a brave young man. Hortense is just about to enter society, and everyone admires her. I admit, Collot, I was really moved; I couldn’t stand the distress of those poor kids. 'Should they,' I thought, 'suffer for their mother’s mistakes?' I called back Eugène and Hortense, and their mother followed them. What could I say, what could I do? I wouldn’t be human without some weakness."—"Rest assured they will repay you for this."—"They should, Collot; they should, because it was a tough struggle for me." After this conversation, Bonaparte and M. Collot went into the breakfast room, where I was sitting. Eugène had breakfast with us, but neither Josephine nor Hortense did. I’ve already explained how I acted as a mediator in this situation. The next day, nothing was lacking to complete the reconciliation between the Conqueror of Egypt and the charming woman who conquered Bonaparte.—Bourrienne.]—







      On the 13th the First Consul slept at Torre di Galifolo. During the
      evening he ordered a staff-officer to ascertain whether the Austrians had
      a bridge across the Bormida. A report arrived very late that there was
      none. This information set Bonaparte's mind at rest, and he went to bed
      very well satisfied; but early next morning, when a firing was heard, and
      he learned that the Austrians had debouched on the plain, where the troops
      were engaged, he flew into a furious passion, called the staff-officer a
      coward, and said he had not advanced far enough. He even spoke of bringing
      the matter to an investigation.
    
On the 13th, the First Consul stayed the night at Torre di Galifolo. That evening, he instructed a staff officer to find out if the Austrians had a bridge over the Bormida. A report came in very late saying there was none. This news put Bonaparte at ease, and he went to bed feeling quite satisfied; however, early the next morning, when gunfire was heard and he found out that the Austrians had moved onto the plain where the troops were fighting, he erupted in a rage, called the staff officer a coward, and said he hadn't moved fast enough. He even mentioned the possibility of launching an investigation into the matter.







      From motives of delicacy I refrain from mentioning the name of the officer
      here alluded to.
    
For reasons of sensitivity, I won't mention the name of the officer referred to here.







      Bonaparte mounted his horse and proceeded immediately to the scene of
      action. I did not see him again until six in the evening. In obedience to
      his instructions; I repaired to San Giuliano, which is not above two
      leagues from the place where the engagement commenced. In the course of
      the afternoon I saw a great many wounded passing through the village, and
      shortly afterwards a multitude of fugitives. At San Giuliano nothing was
      talked of but a retreat, which, it was said, Bonaparte alone firmly
      opposed. I was then advised to leave San Giuliano, where I had just
      received a courier for the General-in-Chief. On the morning of the 14th
      General Desaix was sent towards Novi to observe the road to Genoa, which
      city had fallen several days before, in spite of the efforts of its
      illustrious defender, Massena. I returned with this division to San
      Giuliano. I was struck with the numerical weakness of the corps which was
      marching to aid an army already much reduced and dispersed. The battle was
      looked upon as lost, and so indeed it was. The First Consul having asked
      Desaix what he thought of it, that brave General bluntly replied, "The
      battle is completely lost; but it is only two o'clock, we have time to
      gain another to-day." I heard this from Bonaparte himself the same
      evening. Who could have imagined that Desaix's little corps, together with
      the few heavy cavalry commanded by General Kellerman, would, about five
      o'clock, have changed the fortune of the day? It cannot be denied that it
      was the instantaneous inspiration of Kellerman that converted a defeat
      into a victory, and decided the battle of Marengo.
    
Bonaparte got on his horse and immediately headed to the battlefield. I didn’t see him again until six in the evening. Following his orders, I went to San Giuliano, which is just a couple of leagues from where the battle started. Throughout the afternoon, I saw many wounded soldiers passing through the village, and shortly after, a flood of fleeing people. In San Giuliano, all anyone talked about was retreat, which, it was said, Bonaparte strongly opposed. I was then advised to leave San Giuliano, where I had just received a message for the General-in-Chief. On the morning of the 14th, General Desaix was sent towards Novi to keep an eye on the road to Genoa, which had fallen a few days earlier despite the efforts of its famous defender, Massena. I returned with this division to San Giuliano. I was struck by the small number of troops moving to help a force that was already significantly reduced and scattered. The battle was considered lost, and it truly was. When the First Consul asked Desaix what he thought, the brave General bluntly replied, "The battle is completely lost; but it’s only two o'clock, we have time to turn things around today." I heard this from Bonaparte himself that evening. Who would have thought that Desaix's small corps, along with the few heavy cavalry led by General Kellerman, would change the outcome of the day around five o'clock? It’s undeniable that Kellerman’s quick thinking turned a defeat into a victory and secured the battle of Marengo.







      That memorable battle, of which the results were incalculable, has been
      described in various ways. Bonaparte had an account of it commenced no
      less than three times; and I must confess that none of the narratives are
      more correct than that contained in the 'Memoirs of the Duke of Rovigo'.
      The Emperor Napoleon became dissatisfied with what had been said by the
      First Consul Bonaparte. For my part, not having had the honour to bear a
      sword, I cannot say that I saw any particular movement executed this or
      that way; but I may mention here what I heard on the evening of the battle
      of Marengo respecting the probable chances of that event. As to the part
      which the First Consul took in it, the reader, perhaps, is sufficiently
      acquainted with his character to account for it. He did not choose that a
      result so decisive should be attributed to any other cause than the
      combinations of his genius, and if I had not known his insatiable thirst
      for glory I should have been surprised at the sort of half satisfaction
      evinced at the cause of the success amidst the joy manifested for the
      success itself. It must be confessed that in this he was very unlike
      Jourdan, Hoche, Kléber, and Moreau, who were ever ready to acknowledge the
      services of those who had fought under their orders.
    
That unforgettable battle, with its far-reaching consequences, has been described in many different ways. Bonaparte started his account of it at least three times, and I have to admit that none of the stories are more accurate than the one in the 'Memoirs of the Duke of Rovigo.' Emperor Napoleon wasn't happy with what had been said by First Consul Bonaparte. As for me, since I didn’t have the honor of carrying a sword, I can’t say that I witnessed any specific movements executed this way or that. But I can share what I heard on the evening of the battle of Marengo about the likely outcomes of that event. Regarding the role of the First Consul in it, the reader probably knows enough about his character to understand. He didn’t want such a decisive result to be credited to anything other than his own genius. And if I hadn’t known about his relentless pursuit of glory, I would have been surprised by the kind of half-satisfaction he showed about the cause of the success, even amidst the joy for the victory itself. It must be said that he was very different from Jourdan, Hoche, Kléber, and Moreau, who were always quick to acknowledge the contributions of their subordinates.







      Within two hours of the time when the divisions commanded by Desaix left
      San Giuliano I was joyfully surprised by the triumphant return of the
      army, whose fate, since the morning, had caused me so much anxiety. Never
      did fortune within so short a time show herself under two such various
      faces. At two o'clock all denoted the desolation of a defeat, with all its
      fatal consequences; at five victory was again faithful to the flag of
      Arcola. Italy was reconquered by a single blow, and the crown of France
      appeared in the perspective.
    
Within two hours after Desaix's divisions left San Giuliano, I was happily surprised by the army's triumphant return, whose fate had caused me so much anxiety since the morning. Never had fortune shown such contrasting sides in such a short time. At two o'clock, everything pointed to the devastation of a defeat, with all its dire consequences; by five, victory had returned to the flag of Arcola. Italy was regained with a single strike, and the crown of France came into view.







      At seven in the evening, when I returned with the First Consul to
      headquarters, he expressed to me his sincere regret for the loss of
      Desaix, and then he added, "Little Kellerman made a lucky charge. He did
      it at just the right moment. We are much indebted to him. You see what
      trifling circumstances decide these affairs."
    
At seven in the evening, when I got back to headquarters with the First Consul, he genuinely expressed his sadness over the loss of Desaix. Then he added, "Little Kellerman made a timely charge. He did it at the perfect moment. We're really grateful to him. You can see how small circumstances determine these events."







      These few words show that Bonaparte sufficiently appreciated the services
      of Kellerman. However, when that officer approached the table at which
      were seated the First Consul and a number of his generals, Bonaparte
      merely said, "You made a pretty good charge." By way of counter-balancing
      this cool compliment he turned towards Bessières, who commanded the horse
      grenadiers of the Guard, and said, "Bessières, the Guard has covered
      itself with glory." Yet the fact is, that the Guard took no part in the
      charge of Kellerman, who could assemble only 500 heavy cavalry; and with
      this handful of brave men he cut in two the Austrian column, which had
      overwhelmed Desaix's division, and had made 6000 prisoners. The Guard did
      not charge at Marengo until nightfall.
    
These few words show that Bonaparte recognized Kellerman's contributions. However, when Kellerman approached the table where the First Consul and several generals were sitting, Bonaparte simply said, "You made a pretty good charge." To balance out this indifferent compliment, he turned to Bessières, who led the horse grenadiers of the Guard, and said, "Bessières, the Guard has covered itself with glory." The truth is, though, that the Guard wasn’t involved in Kellerman's charge; he could gather only 500 heavy cavalry. With this small group of brave men, he split the Austrian column that had overwhelmed Desaix's division and captured 6,000 prisoners. The Guard didn't engage at Marengo until nightfall.







      Next day it was reported that Kellerman, in his first feeling of
      dissatisfaction at the dry congratulation he had received, said to the
      First Consul, "I have just placed the crown on your head!" I did not hear
      this, and I cannot vouch for the truth of its having been said. I could
      only have ascertained that fact through Bonaparte, and of course I could
      not, with propriety, remind him of a thing which must have been very
      offensive to him. However, whether true or not, the observation was
      circulated about, verbally and in writing, and Bonaparte knew it. Hence
      the small degree of favour shown to Kellerman, who was not made a general
      of division on the field of battle as a reward for his charge at Marengo.
    
The next day, it was reported that Kellerman, feeling dissatisfied with the lackluster congratulations he had received, told the First Consul, "I just placed the crown on your head!" I didn’t hear this myself, so I can't confirm if it was actually said. The only way I could have confirmed it would have been through Bonaparte, and I obviously couldn’t remind him of something that would have been very offensive to him. Regardless of its truth, the remark spread around, both verbally and in writing, and Bonaparte was aware of it. This explains the limited favor shown to Kellerman, who was not promoted to divisional general on the battlefield as a reward for his actions at Marengo.






 —[If Savary's story be correct, and he was then aide de camp to
   Desaix, and Bourrienne acknowledges his account to be the best, the
   inspiration of the charge did not come from the young Kellerman.
   Savary says that Desaix sent him to tell Napoleon that he could not
   delay his attack, and that he must be supported by some cavalry.

   Savary was then sent by Napoleon to a spot where he was told he
   would find Kellerman, to order him to charge in support of Desaix.
   Desaix and Kellerman were so placed as to be out of sight of each
   other (Savary, tome i. pp. 279-279). Thiers (tome i, p. 445)
   follows Savary.

   It may here be mentioned that Savary, in his account of the battle,
   expressly states that he carried the order from Bonaparte to
   Kellerman to make this charge. He also makes the following
   observations on the subject:—

   After the fall of the Imperial Government some pretended friends of
   General Kellerman have presumed to claim for him the merit of
   originating the charge of cavalry. That general, whose share of
   glory is sufficiently brilliant to gratify his most sanguine wishes,
   can have no knowledge of so presumptuous a pretension. I the more
   readily acquit him from the circumstance that, as we were conversing
   one day respecting that battle, I called to his mind my having
   brought, to him the First Consul's orders, and he appeared not to
   have forgotten that fact. I am far from suspecting his friends of
   the design of lessening the glory of either General Bonaparte or
   General Desaix; they know as well as myself that theirs are names so
   respected that they can never be affected by such detractions, and
   that it would be as vain to dispute the praise due to the Chief who
   planned the battle was to attempt to depreciate the brilliant share
   which General Kellerman had in its successful result. I will add to
   the above a few observations.

   "From the position which he occupied General Desaix could not see
   General Kellerman; he had even desired me to request the First
   Consul to afford him the support of some cavalry. Neither could
   General Kellerman, from the point where he was stationed, perceive
   General Desaix's division; it is even probable that he was not aware
   of the arrival of that General, who had only joined the army two
   days before. Both were ignorant of each other's position, which the
   First Consul was alone acquainted with; he alone could introduce
   harmony into their movements; he alone could make their efforts
   respectively conduce to the same object.

   "The fate of the battle was decided by Kellerman's bold charge; had
   it, however, been made previously to General Desaix's attack, in all
   probability it would have had a quite different result. Kellerman
   appears to have been convinced of it, since he allowed the Austrian
   column to cross our field of battle and extend its front beyond that
   of the troops we had still in line without making the least attempt
   to impede its progress. The reason of Kellerman's not charging it
   sooner was that it was too serious a movement, and the consequences
   of failure would have been irretrievable: that charge, therefore,
   could only enter into a general combination of plans, to which he
   was necessarily a stranger" (Memoirs of the Duke of Rovigo, tome i.
   pp. 218-280).]— 
—[If Savary's story is accurate, and he was indeed aide de camp to Desaix, with Bourrienne confirming his account as the most credible, then the idea for the charge didn’t originate from the young Kellerman. Savary states that Desaix sent him to inform Napoleon that he couldn’t postpone his attack and needed cavalry support.

Napoleon then sent Savary to a location where he was told he would find Kellerman, with the order to charge in support of Desaix. Desaix and Kellerman were positioned so that they couldn’t see each other (Savary, vol. 1, pp. 279-279). Thiers (vol. 1, p. 445) supports Savary’s account.

It should be noted that Savary explicitly mentions in his battle account that he delivered the order from Bonaparte to Kellerman to execute this charge. He also makes the following remarks on the issue:—

After the fall of the Imperial Government, some who claimed to be friends of General Kellerman attempted to credit him with the idea for the cavalry charge. That general, whose share of glory is already impressive enough to satisfy even his highest hopes, would surely disavow such a pretentious claim. I feel justified in absolving him of this because during one conversation we had about the battle, I reminded him that I delivered the First Consul's orders to him, and he seemed to recall that fact. I do not suspect his friends of trying to diminish the glory of either General Bonaparte or General Desaix; they understand, just as I do, that their names are so esteemed that they can’t be tarnished by such claims, and it would be just as futile to dispute the credit due to the Chief who orchestrated the battle as it would be to try to downplay General Kellerman’s crucial role in its successful outcome. I will add a few more observations to the above.

"From his position, General Desaix couldn’t see General Kellerman; he even asked me to request the First Consul to send cavalry support. Likewise, General Kellerman, from where he was stationed, couldn’t see General Desaix's division; he was likely unaware of that General’s arrival, who had only joined the army two days earlier. Both were unaware of each other’s positions, which only the First Consul knew; he alone could align their movements and ensure their efforts worked toward the same goal.

"The outcome of the battle hinged on Kellerman’s bold charge; however, if it had occurred before General Desaix’s attack, it likely would have led to a completely different result. Kellerman seemed to understand this, as he allowed the Austrian column to cross our battlefield and spread its front beyond our remaining troops without trying to block its advance. The reason Kellerman didn’t charge sooner was that it was a serious maneuver, and any failure would have had irreversible consequences: that charge, therefore, could only fit into a broader strategy of which he was not fully aware" (Memoirs of the Duke of Rovigo, vol. 1, pp. 218-280).]—







      M. Delaforet, the Postmaster-general, sometimes transacted business with
      the First Consul. The nature of this secret business may easily be guessed
      at.
    
M. Delaforet, the Postmaster General, sometimes did business with the First Consul. The nature of this secret business is easy to guess.






 —[When M. Delaforet was replaced soon after this by Lavalette,
   Napoleon ordered the discontinuance of the practice followed until
   then of allowing letters to be opened by subordinate officials.
   This right was restricted, as in England, to the Minister. However
   bad this practice, it was limited, not extended, in his reign. See
   Mineval, tome iii. pp. 60-62, and Lavalette, tome ii. p. 10.]— 
 —[When M. Delaforet was replaced shortly thereafter by Lavalette, Napoleon ordered that the practice of allowing subordinate officials to open letters be discontinued. This authority was restricted, as in England, to the Minister. Regardless of how problematic this practice was, it was limited, not expanded, during his reign. See Mineval, vol. iii, pp. 60-62, and Lavalette, vol. ii, p. 10.]—







      On the occasion of one of their interviews the First Consul saw a letter
      from Kellerman to Lasalle, which contained the following passage: "Would
      you believe, my friend, that Bonaparte has not made me a general of
      division though I have just placed the crown on his head?" The letter was
      sealed again and sent to its address; but Bonaparte never forgot its
      contents.
    
During one of their interviews, the First Consul saw a letter from Kellerman to Lasalle that included the following line: "Can you believe, my friend, that Bonaparte hasn't made me a division general even after I just put the crown on his head?" The letter was resealed and sent off, but Bonaparte never forgot what it said.







      Whether Kellerman did or did not give the crown of France to the First
      Consul, it is very certain that on the evening of the battle of Marengo he
      gave him a supper, of which his famishing staff and the rest of us
      partook. This was no inconsiderable service in the destitute condition in
      which we were. We thought ourselves exceeding fortunate in profiting by
      the precaution of Kellerman, who had procured provisions from one of those
      pious retreats which are always well supplied, and which soldiers are very
      glad to fall in with when campaigning. It was the convent del Bosco which
      on this occasion was laid under contribution; and in return for the
      abundance of good provisions and wine with which they supplied the
      commander of the heavy cavalry the holy fathers were allowed a guard to
      protect them against pillage and the other disastrous concomitants of war.
    
Whether Kellerman actually gave the crown of France to the First Consul or not, it’s clear that on the evening of the Battle of Marengo, he treated him to dinner, which his starving staff and the rest of us enjoyed as well. This was no small gesture considering the desperate situation we were in. We felt extremely lucky to benefit from Kellerman’s foresight, as he had secured food from one of those charitable places that are always well stocked, which soldiers are very happy to encounter while on campaign. It was the Convent del Bosco that was drawn upon this time; in exchange for the generous supplies of good food and wine they provided to the commander of the heavy cavalry, the holy fathers were given a guard to protect them from looting and the other terrible consequences of war.







      After supper was over the First Consul dictated to me the bulletin of the
      battle. When we were alone I said to him, "General, here is a fine
      victory! You recollect what you said the other day about the pleasure with
      which you would return to France after striking a grand blow in Italy;
      surely you must be satisfied now?"—"Yes, Bourrienne, I am satisfied.—But
      Desaix! . . . Ah, what a triumph would this have been if I could have
      embraced him to-night on the field of battle!" As he uttered these words I
      saw that Bonaparte was on the point of shedding tears, so sincere and
      profound was his grief for the death of Desaix. He certainly never loved,
      esteemed, or regretted any man so much.
    
After dinner, the First Consul dictated the battle report to me. Once we were alone, I said to him, "General, this is a great victory! Remember what you said the other day about how happy you would be to return to France after achieving something significant in Italy; you must feel satisfied now?" He replied, "Yes, Bourrienne, I am satisfied. But Desaix! ... Oh, what a triumph this would have been if I could have embraced him tonight on the battlefield!" As he spoke these words, I noticed that Bonaparte was about to cry; his grief for Desaix's death was so genuine and deep. He had never loved, respected, or mourned anyone as much as he did him.







      The death of Desaix has been variously related, and I need not now state
      that the words attributed to him in the bulletin were imaginary. Neither
      did he die in the arms of his aide de camp, Lebrun, as I wrote from the
      dictation of the First Consul. The following facts are more correct, or at
      all events more probable:—the death of Desaix was not perceived at
      the moment it took place. He fell without saying a word, at a little
      distance from Lefebre-Desnouettes. A sergeant of battalion of the 9th
      brigade light infantry, commanded by Barrois, seeing him extended on the
      ground, asked permission to pick up his cloak. It was found to be
      perforated behind; and this circumstance leaves it doubtful whether Desaix
      was killed by some unlucky inadvertency, while advancing at the head of
      his troops, or by the enemy when turning towards his men to encourage
      them. However, the event was so instantaneous, the disorder so complete,
      and the change of fortune so sudden, that it is not surprising there
      should be no positive account of the circumstances which attended his
      death.
    
The death of Desaix has been described in different ways, and I don’t need to point out that the words attributed to him in the bulletin were made up. He also didn’t die in the arms of his aide de camp, Lebrun, as I wrote based on what the First Consul said. The following details are more accurate, or at least more likely: Desaix’s death wasn’t noticed right when it happened. He fell without saying a word, a short distance from Lefebre-Desnouettes. A sergeant from the 9th brigade light infantry, led by Barrois, saw him lying on the ground and asked for permission to pick up his cloak. It was found to have a hole in it, which raises the question of whether Desaix was accidentally killed while leading his troops or shot by the enemy when he turned to encourage his men. Still, the event was so sudden, the chaos so complete, and the change in fortune so abrupt that it’s no wonder there’s no clear account of the circumstances surrounding his death.







      Early next morning the Prince of Liechtenstein came from General Melas
      with negotiations to the First Consul. The propositions of the General did
      not suit Bonaparte, and he declared to the Prince that the army shut up in
      Alessandria should evacuate freely, and with the honours of war; but on
      those conditions, which are well known, and by which Italy was to be fully
      restored to the French domination. That day were repaired the faults of
      Scherer, whose inertness and imbecility had paralysed everything, and who
      had fled, and been constantly beaten, from the Adriatic to Mont Cenis. The
      Prince of Liechtenstein begged to return to render an account of his
      mission to General Melas. He came back in the evening, and made many
      observations on the hard nature of the conditions. "Sir," replied the
      First Consul, in a tone of marked impatience, "carry my final
      determination to your General, and return quickly. It is irrevocable! Know
      that I am as well acquainted with your position as you are yourselves. I
      did not begin to learn the art of war yesterday. You are blocked up in
      Alessandria; you have many sick and wounded; you are in want of provisions
      and medicines. I occupy the whole of your rear. Your finest troops are
      among the killed and wounded. I might insist on harder conditions; my
      position would warrant me in so doing; but I moderate my demands in
      consideration of the gray hairs of your General, whom I respect."
    
Early the next morning, the Prince of Liechtenstein arrived from General Melas to talk to the First Consul. The General's proposals didn’t work for Bonaparte, and he told the Prince that the army trapped in Alessandria should leave freely and with honors of war, but only under the well-known conditions that meant Italy would be fully returned to French control. That day, they addressed Scherer's mistakes, who had been so ineffective and incompetent that everything had come to a standstill, and who had fled while consistently facing defeats from the Adriatic to Mont Cenis. The Prince of Liechtenstein asked to head back to report his mission to General Melas. He returned in the evening and made several comments about how tough the conditions were. "Sir," the First Consul replied, with obvious impatience, "take my final decision to your General and come back quickly. It’s final! Understand that I know your situation as well as you do. I didn’t just start learning about the art of war yesterday. You’re stuck in Alessandria; you have many sick and injured; you lack supplies and medicine. I control your entire rear. A lot of your best troops are dead or injured. I could demand harsher terms; my position allows for that; but I’m easing my demands out of respect for your General's gray hairs."







      This reply was delivered with considerable dignity and energy. I showed
      the Prince out, and he said to me, "These conditions are very hard,
      especially that of giving up Genoa, which surrendered to us only a
      fortnight ago, after so long a siege." It is a curious fact that the
      Emperor of Austria received intelligence of the capitulation and
      restitution of Genoa at the same time.
    
This response was given with a lot of dignity and enthusiasm. I escorted the Prince out, and he said to me, "These conditions are really tough, especially the one about giving up Genoa, which just surrendered to us only two weeks ago after such a long siege." It's interesting to note that the Emperor of Austria learned about the surrender and return of Genoa at the same time.







      When the First Consul returned to Milan he made Savary and Rapp his aides
      de camp. They had previously served in the same rank under Desaix. The
      First Consul was at first not much disposed to take them, alleging that he
      had aides de camp enough. But his respect for the choice of Desaix, added
      to a little solicitation on my part, soon removed every obstacle. These
      two officers served him to the last hour of his political career with
      unfailing zeal and fidelity.
    
When the First Consul got back to Milan, he appointed Savary and Rapp as his aides-de-camp. They had both held the same position under Desaix before. Initially, the First Consul wasn't very inclined to bring them on, claiming he already had enough aides-de-camp. However, his respect for Desaix's choice, coupled with a bit of persuasion from me, quickly cleared any objections. These two officers served him with unwavering dedication and loyalty until the end of his political career.







      I have seen nothing in the Memoirs of the Duc de Rovigo (Savary) about my
      having had anything to do with his admission to the honour. I can probably
      tell the reason why one of the two aides de camp has risen higher than the
      other. Rapp had an Alsatian frankness which always injured him.
    
I haven't seen anything in the Memoirs of the Duc de Rovigo (Savary) that mentions my involvement in his admission to the honor. I can likely explain why one of the two aides-de-camp has progressed further than the other. Rapp had an open and straightforward manner from Alsace, which often worked against him.








 


 




















      CHAPTER II.
    



      1800.
    
1800.


   Suspension of hostilities—Letter to the Consuls—Second Occupation
   of Milan—Bonaparte and Massena—Public acclamations and the voice
   of Josephine—Stray recollections—Organization of Piedmont—Sabres
   of honour—Rewards to the army of the Rhine—Pretended army of
   reserve—General Zach—Anniversary of the 14th of July—Monument to
   Desaix—Desaix and Foy—Bonaparte's speech in the Temple of Mars—
   Arrival of the Consular Guard—The bones of marshal Turenne—
   Lucien's successful speech—Letter from Lucien to Joseph Bonaparte—
   The First Consul's return to Paris—Accidents on the road—
   Difficulty of gaining lasting fame—Assassination of Kléber—
   Situation of the terrace on which Kléber was stabbed—Odious rumours
   —Arrival of a courier—A night scene—Bonaparte's distress on
   perusing the despatches from Egypt.

   Suspension of hostilities—Letter to the Consuls—Second Occupation of Milan—Bonaparte and Massena—Public cheers and the voice of Josephine—Random memories—Organization of Piedmont—Sabres of honor—Rewards to the army of the Rhine—So-called reserve army—General Zach—Anniversary of July 14—Monument to Desaix—Desaix and Foy—Bonaparte's speech in the Temple of Mars—Arrival of the Consular Guard—The bones of Marshal Turenne—Lucien's successful speech—Letter from Lucien to Joseph Bonaparte—The First Consul's return to Paris—Accidents on the road—Challenge of achieving lasting fame—Assassination of Kléber—Location of the terrace where Kléber was stabbed—Shocking rumors—Arrival of a courier—A nighttime scene—Bonaparte's distress while reading the dispatches from Egypt.







      What little time, and how few events sometimes suffice to change the
      destiny of nations! We left Milan on the 13th of June, Marengo on the
      14th, and on the 15th Italy was ours! A suspension of hostilities between
      the French and Austrian armies was the immediate result of a single
      battle; and by virtue of a convention, concluded between Berthier and
      Melas, we resumed possession of all the fortified places of any
      importance, with the exception of Mantua. As soon as this convention was
      signed Bonaparte dictated to me at Torre di Galifolo the following letter
      to his colleagues:
    
What little time, and how few events sometimes are enough to change the destiny of nations! We left Milan on June 13th, Marengo on the 14th, and by the 15th, Italy was ours! A pause in fighting between the French and Austrian armies was the immediate result of a single battle; and due to an agreement made between Berthier and Melas, we regained control of all the important fortified places, except for Mantua. As soon as this agreement was signed, Bonaparte dictated the following letter to me at Torre di Galifolo for his colleagues:






   The day after the battle of Marengo, CITIZENS CONSULS, General Melas
   transmitted a message to our advance posts requesting permission to
   send General Skal to me. During the day the convention, of which I
   send you a copy, was drawn up, and at night it was signed by
   Generals Berthier and Melas. I hope the French people will be
   satisfied with the conduct, of their army.
                       (Signed) Bonaparte

   The day after the battle of Marengo, the citizen consuls, General Melas, sent a message to our front lines asking for permission to send General Skal to me. Throughout the day, the agreement, which I’m sending you a copy of, was prepared, and at night it was signed by Generals Berthier and Melas. I hope the French people will be pleased with the actions of their army.  
                       (Signed) Bonaparte







      The only thing worthy of remark in this letter would be the concluding
      sentence, in which the First Consul still affected to acknowledge the
      sovereignty of the people, were it not that the words "Citizens Consuls"
      were evidently foisted in with a particular design. The battle was gained;
      and even in a trifling matter like this it was necessary that the two,
      other Consuls should feel that they were not so much the colleagues as the
      subordinates of the First Consul.
    
The only noteworthy thing in this letter is the final sentence, where the First Consul still pretended to recognize the people's sovereignty, even though the term "Citizens Consuls" was clearly added with a specific intention. The battle was won; and even in something as minor as this, it was important for the other two Consuls to realize that they were more like the subordinates than the colleagues of the First Consul.







      We returned to Milan, and our second occupation of that city was marked by
      continued acclamations wherever the First Consul showed himself. At Milan
      the First Consul now saw Massena for the first time since our departure
      for Egypt. Bonaparte lavished upon him the highest praises, but not higher
      than he deserved, for his admirable defence of Genoa. He named him his
      successor in the command of the army of Italy. Moreau was on the Rhine,
      and therefore none but the conqueror of Zurich could properly have
      succeeded the First Consul in that command. The great blow was struck; but
      there might still occur an emergency requiring the presence of a skillful
      experienced general, well acquainted with the country. And besides, we
      could not be perfectly at ease, until it was ascertained what conditions
      would be adhered to by the Cabinet of Vienna, which was then entirely
      under the influence of the Cabinet of London. After our return from the
      battle the popular joy was general and heartfelt not only among the higher
      and middle ranks of society, but in all classes; and the affection evinced
      from all quarters to the First Consul was unfeigned. In what a tone of
      sincerity did he say to me one day, when returning from the parade,
      "Bourrienne, do you hear the acclamations still resounding? That noise is
      as sweet to me as the sound of Josephine's voice. How happy and proud I am
      to be loved by such a people!"
    
We returned to Milan, and our second time in the city was marked by cheers wherever the First Consul appeared. In Milan, the First Consul met Massena for the first time since we left for Egypt. Bonaparte praised him highly, which was well-deserved for his excellent defense of Genoa. He appointed Massena as his successor in commanding the army of Italy. Moreau was stationed on the Rhine, so only the conqueror of Zurich could rightly take over that role. A major decision had been made; however, there could still be situations that required the presence of a skilled, experienced general who knew the area well. Moreover, we couldn't feel completely at ease until we knew what terms the Cabinet of Vienna would agree to, as it was then fully under the influence of the Cabinet of London. After we returned from battle, the joy among the people was widespread and genuine, not just among the upper and middle classes, but across all social levels; the affection shown to the First Consul was sincere. One day, as we came back from the parade, he spoke to me with a tone of true sincerity, saying, "Bourrienne, do you hear the cheers still ringing? That sound is as sweet to me as the sound of Josephine's voice. How happy and proud I am to be loved by such a people!"







      During our stay at Milan Bonaparte had arranged a new government for
      Piedmont; he had ever since cherished the wish to unite that rich and
      fertile country to the French territory because some Piedmontese provinces
      had been possessed by Louis XIV. That monarch was the only king whom the
      First Consul really admired. "If," said he one day, "Louis XIV. had not
      been born a king, he would have been a great man. But he did not know
      mankind; he could not know them, for he never knew misfortune." He admired
      the resolution of the old King, who would rather bury himself under the
      ruins of the monarchy than submit to degrading conditions, after having
      commanded the sovereigns of Europe. I recollect that Bonaparte was
      extremely pleased to see in the reports which he ordered to be made that
      in Casal, and in the valleys of Pignerol, Latour, and Luzerne, there still
      existed many traces of the period when those countries belonged to France;
      and that the French language was yet preserved there. He already began to
      identify himself with the past; and abusing the old kings of France was
      not the way to conciliate his favour.
    
During our stay in Milan, Bonaparte had set up a new government for Piedmont; he had long wanted to unite that rich and fertile area with France because some provinces in Piedmont had been under the rule of Louis XIV. That king was the only monarch whom the First Consul truly admired. "If," he said one day, "Louis XIV hadn't been born a king, he would have been a great man. But he didn't understand people; he couldn't understand them because he never experienced hardship." He respected the determination of the old King, who would rather be buried under the ruins of the monarchy than accept humiliating terms after having commanded the rulers of Europe. I remember Bonaparte was very pleased to see in the reports he requested that in Casal and the valleys of Pignerol, Latour, and Luzerne, there were still many remnants from the time when those areas were part of France; and that the French language was still preserved there. He was beginning to connect with the past; and criticizing the old kings of France was not the way to win his favor.







      The First Consul appointed for the government of Piedmont a Council which,
      as may naturally be imagined; he composed of those Piedmontese who were
      the declared partisans of France. He stated as the grounds of this
      arrangement that it was to give to Piedmont a new proof of the affection
      and attachment of the French people. He afterwards appointed General
      Dupont President of the Council, with the title of Minister-Extraordinary
      of the French government. I will here mention a secret step taken by
      Bonaparte towards the overthrowing of the Republic. In making the first
      draught of General Dupont's appointment I had mechanically written,
      "Minister-Extraordinary of the French Republic."—"No! no!" said
      Bonaparte, "not of the Republic; say of the Government."
    
The First Consul set up a Council to govern Piedmont, which, as you might expect, he filled with Piedmontese who were openly supportive of France. He explained that this move was intended to show Piedmont a new sign of the French people's love and loyalty. He then appointed General Dupont as President of the Council, giving him the title of Minister-Extraordinary of the French government. I should mention a secret action Bonaparte took aimed at dismantling the Republic. When I first drafted General Dupont's appointment, I had automatically written, "Minister-Extraordinary of the French Republic." Bonaparte quickly objected, saying, "No! no! Not of the Republic; say of the Government."







      On his return to Paris the First Consul gave almost incredible proofs of
      his activity. The day after his arrival he promulgated a great number of
      decrees, and afterwards allotted the rewards to his soldiers. He appointed
      Kellerman General of division which, on every principle of justice, he
      ought to have done on the field of battle. He distributed sabres of
      honour, with the following inscription, highly complimentary to himself:—
    
On his return to Paris, the First Consul showcased almost unbelievable levels of energy. The day after arriving, he announced a large number of decrees and then awarded his soldiers. He appointed Kellerman as a division general, which he should have done on the battlefield according to all rules of fairness. He handed out sabers of honor, inscribed with the following commendation that flattered himself:—






   "Battle of Maringo,—[spelt for some time, I do not know why, as,
   Maringo—Bourrienne]—commanded in person by the First Consul.
   —Given by the Government of the Republic to General Lannes."

   "Battle of Maringo,—[spelled for a while, I don't know why, as,  
   Maringo—Bourrienne]—commanded in person by the First Consul.  
   —Given by the Government of the Republic to General Lannes."







      Similar sabres where presented to Generals Victor, Watrin, Gardanne, and
      Murat; and sabres of less value to other officers: and also muskets and
      drumsticks of honour to the soldiers and drummers who had distinguished
      themselves at Marengo, or in the army of the Rhine; for Bonaparte took
      care that the officers and men who had fought under Moreau should be
      included among those to whom the national rewards were presented. He even
      had a medal struck to perpetuate the memory of the entry of the French
      army into Munich. It is worthy of remark that while official fabrications
      and exaggerated details of facts were published respecting Marengo and the
      short campaign of Italy, by a feigned modesty the victorious army of
      Marengo received the unambitious title of 'Army of Reserve'. By this
      artifice the honour of the Constitution was saved. The First Consul had
      not violated it. If he had marched to the field, and staked everything on
      a chance it was merely accidentally, for he commanded only an "Army of
      Reserve," which nevertheless he had greeted with the title of Grand Army
      before he entered upon the campaign. It is scarcely conceivable that
      Bonaparte, possessing as he did an extraordinary mind, should have
      descended to such pitiful artifices.
    
Similar sabers were presented to Generals Victor, Watrin, Gardanne, and Murat; and less valuable sabers to other officers, along with muskets and honorary drumsticks to the soldiers and drummers who had distinguished themselves at Marengo or in the army of the Rhine. Bonaparte ensured that the officers and men who had fought under Moreau were included among those receiving national rewards. He even had a medal created to commemorate the entry of the French army into Munich. It's noteworthy that while official exaggerations and embellished accounts were published about Marengo and the brief campaign in Italy, the victorious army of Marengo was humbly referred to as the 'Army of Reserve.' This tactic preserved the honor of the Constitution. The First Consul had not violated it. If he marched to the battlefield and risked everything on chance, it was purely incidental, as he commanded only an "Army of Reserve," which he nonetheless had labeled the Grand Army before the campaign began. It’s hard to believe that Bonaparte, who had an extraordinary mind, would resort to such petty tricks.






 —[ Thiers (tome. vi., p. 70) says the title Grande Armee was first
   given by Napoleon to the force prepared in 1805 for the campaign
   against Austria. The Constitution forbad the First Consul to
   command the armies in person. Hence the title, "Army of Reserve,"
   gives to the force which fought Marengo.]— 
 —[ Thiers (vol. vi., p. 70) states that Napoleon first used the title Grande Armée for the force he assembled in 1805 for the campaign against Austria. The Constitution prohibited the First Consul from personally commanding the armies. Therefore, the title "Army of Reserve" applies to the force that fought at Marengo.]— 







      Even foreigners and prisoners were objects of Bonaparte's designing
      intentions. I recollect one evening his saying to me; "Bourrienne, write
      to the Minister of War, and tell him to select a fine brace of pistols, of
      the Versailles manufacture, and send them, in my name, to General Zach. He
      dined with me to-day, and highly praised our manufacture of arms. I should
      like to give him a token of remembrance; besides—the matter will be
      talked of at Vienna, and may perhaps do good!"
    
Even foreigners and prisoners were part of Bonaparte's plans. I remember one evening he said to me, "Bourrienne, write to the Minister of War and tell him to choose a nice pair of pistols made in Versailles and send them, in my name, to General Zach. He had dinner with me today and really praised our weapons manufacturing. I want to give him a keepsake; plus—this will get people talking in Vienna, and it might actually be beneficial!"







      As soon as the news of the battle of Marengo reached Paris Lucien
      Bonaparte, Minister of the Interior, ordered preparations for the
      festival, fixed for the 14th of July, in commemoration of the first
      Federation. This festival and that of the 1st Vendemiaire were the only
      ones preserved by the Consular Government. Indeed, in those memorable
      days, when the Revolution appeared in its fairest point of view, France
      had never known such joy as that to which the battle of Marengo gave rise.
      Still, amidst all this popular transport there was a feeling of regret.
      The fame of Desaix, his heroic character, his death, the words attributed
      to him and believed to be true, caused mourning to be mingled with joy. It
      was agreed to open a subscription for erecting a national monument to his
      memory. A reflection naturally arises here upon the difference between the
      period referred to and the present time. France has endowed with nearly a
      million the children of one of her greatest orators and most eloquent
      defenders of public liberty, yet, for the monument to the memory of Desaix
      scarcely 20,000 francs were subscribed. Does not this form a singular
      contrast with the patriotic munificence displayed at the death of General
      Foy? The pitiful monument to Desaix, on the Place Dauphins, sufficiently
      attests the want of spirit on the part of the subscribers. Bonaparte, who
      was much dissatisfied with it, gave the name of Desaix to a new quay, the
      first stone of which was laid with great solemnity on the 14th of July.
    
As soon as the news of the Battle of Marengo reached Paris, Lucien Bonaparte, the Minister of the Interior, ordered preparations for the festival scheduled for July 14th to celebrate the first Federation. This festival and the one on the 1st Vendemiaire were the only ones kept by the Consular Government. Indeed, during those memorable days when the Revolution seemed to show its best side, France had never experienced such joy as that sparked by the Battle of Marengo. Yet, amidst all this public excitement, there was also a sense of sorrow. The renown of Desaix, his heroic nature, his death, and the words attributed to him, believed to be genuine, caused mourning to blend with joy. It was decided to start a fundraising campaign to build a national monument in his honor. One can't help but think about the contrast between that time and now. France has provided nearly a million for the children of one of her greatest orators and most eloquent defenders of public liberty, yet for Desaix's monument, barely 20,000 francs were raised. Doesn't this contrast sharply with the patriotic generosity shown at the death of General Foy? The meager monument to Desaix in Place Dauphins clearly reflects a lack of spirit from the donors. Bonaparte, who was quite displeased with it, named a new quay after Desaix, and the first stone was laid with great ceremony on July 14th.







      On that day the crowd was immense in the Champ-de-Mars and in the Temple
      of Mars, the name which at that the Church of the Invalides still
      preserved. Lucien delivered a speech on the encouraging prospects of
      France, and Lannes made an appropriate address on presenting to the
      Government the flags taken at Marengo. Two more followed; one from an aide
      de camp of Massena, and the other from an aide de camp of Lecourbe; and
      after the distribution of some medals the First Consul then delivered the
      following address:—
    
On that day, the crowd was huge in the Champ-de-Mars and at the Temple of Mars, the name that the Church of the Invalides still kept. Lucien gave a speech about the hopeful future of France, and Lannes made a fitting address while presenting the flags captured at Marengo to the Government. Two more speeches followed; one from an aide-de-camp of Massena and the other from an aide-de-camp of Lecourbe. After some medals were handed out, the First Consul then delivered the following address:—






   CITIZENS! SOLDIERS!—The flags presented to the Government, in the
   presence of the people of this immense capital, attest at once the
   genius of the Commanders-in-Chief Moreau, Massena, and Berthier; the
   military talents of the generals, their lieutenants; and bravery of
   the French soldiers.

   On your return to the camp tell your comrades that for the 1st
   Vendemiaire, when we shall celebrate the anniversary of the
   Republic, the French people expect either peace or, if the enemy
   obstinately refuse it, other flags, the fruit of fresh victories.

CITIZENS! SOLDIERS!—The flags presented to the Government, in front of the people of this vast capital, showcase the skill of Commanders-in-Chief Moreau, Massena, and Berthier; the military abilities of the generals and their officers; and the bravery of the French soldiers.

When you return to the camp, let your comrades know that for the 1st Vendemiaire, when we celebrate the anniversary of the Republic, the French people expect either peace or, if the enemy stubbornly refuses, new flags from fresh victories.







      After this harangue of the First Consul, in which he addressed to the
      military in the name of the people, and ascribed to Berthier the glory of
      Marengo, a hymn was chanted, the words of which were written by M. de
      Fontanes and the music composed by Mehul. But what was most remarkable in
      this fete was neither the poetry, music, nor even the panegyrical
      eloquence of Lucien,—it was the arrival at the Champ-de-Mars, after
      the ceremony at the Invalides, of the Consular Guard returning from
      Marengo. I was at a window of the Ecole-Militaire, and I can never forget
      the commotion, almost electrical, which made the air resound with cries of
      enthusiasm at their appearance. These soldiers did not defile before the
      First Consul in fine uniforms as at a review. Leaving the field of battle
      when the firing ceased, they had crossed Lombardy, Piedmont, Mont Cenis,
      Savoy, and France in the space of twenty-nine days. They appeared worn by
      the fatigue of a long journey, with faces browned by the summer sun of
      Italy, and with their arms and clothing showing the effects of desperate
      struggles. Do you wish to have an idea of their appearance? You will find
      a perfect type in the first grenadier put by Gerard at one side of his
      picture of the battle of Austerlitz.
    
After this speech from the First Consul, in which he spoke to the military on behalf of the people and credited Berthier with the glory of Marengo, a hymn was sung, with lyrics written by M. de Fontanes and music composed by Mehul. However, what stood out the most during this celebration wasn't the poetry, the music, or even Lucien's praise-filled speech—it was the arrival at the Champ-de-Mars of the Consular Guard returning from Marengo, right after the ceremony at the Invalides. I was at a window of the Ecole-Militaire, and I can never forget the almost electric excitement that filled the air with cheers when they appeared. These soldiers did not march in front of the First Consul in their finest uniforms like at a parade. After leaving the battlefield when the gunfire stopped, they had crossed Lombardy, Piedmont, Mont Cenis, Savoy, and France in just twenty-nine days. They looked exhausted from the long journey, with faces tanned by the summer sun of Italy, and their arms and clothing showed the marks of fierce battles. Do you want to get an idea of how they looked? You'll find a perfect example in the first grenadier that Gerard depicted on one side of his painting of the battle of Austerlitz.







      At the time of this fete, that is to say, in the middle of the month of
      July, the First Consul could not have imagined that the moderate
      conditions he had proposed after the victory would not be accepted by
      Austria. In the hope, therefore, of a peace which could not but be
      considered probable, he, for the first time since the establishment of the
      Consular Government, convoked the deputies of the departments, and
      appointed their time of assembling in Paris for the 1st Vendemiaire, a day
      which formed the close of one remarkable century and marked the
      commencement of another.
    
At the time of this celebration, in mid-July, the First Consul could not have imagined that Austria would reject the moderate terms he proposed after the victory. Hopeful for a peace that seemed likely, he convened the departmental deputies for the first time since the Consular Government was established, scheduling their meeting in Paris for the 1st Vendemiaire, a day that marked the end of one remarkable century and the start of another.







      The remains of Marshal Turenne; to which Louis XIV. had awarded the
      honours of annihilation by giving them a place among the royal tombs in
      the vaults of St. Denis, had been torn from their grave at the time of the
      sacrilegious violation of the tombs. His bones, mingled indiscriminately
      with others, had long lain in obscurity in a garret of the College of
      Medicine when M. Lenoir collected and restored them to the ancient tomb of
      Turenne in the Mussee des Petits Augustins. Bonaparte resolved to enshrine
      these relics in that sculptured marble with which the glory of Turenne
      could so well dispense. This was however, intended as a connecting link
      between the past days of France and the future to which he looked forward.
      He thought that the sentiments inspired by the solemn honours rendered to
      the memory of Turenne would dispose the deputies of the departments to
      receive with greater enthusiasm the pacific communications he hoped to be
      able to make.
    
The remains of Marshal Turenne, which Louis XIV had honored by giving them a place among the royal tombs in the vaults of St. Denis, had been taken from their grave during the sacrilegious violation of the tombs. His bones, mixed indiscriminately with others, had long been lying in obscurity in a storage area of the College of Medicine when M. Lenoir collected them and restored them to Turenne's ancient tomb in the Mussee des Petits Augustins. Bonaparte decided to enshrine these relics in beautifully sculpted marble that matched Turenne's glory. This was meant to serve as a connection between France's past and the future he envisioned. He believed that the sentiments inspired by the solemn honors paid to Turenne's memory would encourage the deputies from the departments to receive his peaceful proposals with greater enthusiasm.







      However, the negotiations did not take the favourable turn which the First
      Consul had expected; and, notwithstanding all the address of Lucien, the
      communication was not heard without much uneasiness. But Lucien had
      prepared a speech quite to the taste of the First Consul. After dilating
      for some time on the efforts of the Government to obtain peace he deplored
      the tergiversations of Austria, accused the fatal influence of England,
      and added in a more elevated and solemn tone, "At the very moment when,
      the Consuls were leaving the Palace of the Government a courier arrived
      bearing despatches which the First Consul has directed me to communicate
      to you." He then read a note declaring that the Austrian Government
      consented to surrender to France the three fortresses of Ulm, Philipsburg,
      and Ingolstadt. This was considered as a security for the preliminaries of
      peace being speedily signed. The news was received with enthusiasm, and
      that anxious day closed in a way highly gratifying to the First Consul.
    
However, the negotiations didn't go as favorably as the First Consul had hoped; and despite Lucien’s efforts, the communication was met with a lot of unease. But Lucien had prepared a speech that was just what the First Consul wanted. After elaborating for a while on the Government's attempts to achieve peace, he lamented Austria's shifting positions, blamed England’s negative influence, and added in a more serious and formal tone, "Just as the Consuls were leaving the Government Palace, a courier arrived with messages that the First Consul has asked me to share with you." He then read a note stating that the Austrian Government agreed to hand over the three fortresses of Ulm, Philipsburg, and Ingolstadt to France. This was seen as assurance that the preliminary peace agreements would be signed soon. The news was received with excitement, and that tense day ended on a high note for the First Consul.







      Whilst victory confirmed in Italy the destinies of the First Consul, his
      brothers were more concerned about their own interests than the affairs of
      France. They loved money as much as Bonaparte loved glory. A letter from
      Lucien to his brother Joseph, which I shall subjoin, shows how ready they
      always were to turn to their own advantage the glory and fortune of him to
      whom they were indebted for all their importance. I found this letter
      among my papers, but I cannot tell why and how I preserved it. It is
      interesting, inasmuch as it shows, the opinion that family of future kings
      entertained of their own situation, and of what their fate would have been
      had Bonaparte, like Desaix, fallen on the field of Marengo. It is,
      besides, curious to observe the philosopher Lucien causing Te Deum, to be
      chanted with the view of influencing the public funds. At all events I
      copy Lucien's letter as he wrote it, giving the words marked in italics
      [CAPS] and the numerous notes of exclamation which distinguish the
      original.
    
While the victory in Italy secured the future of the First Consul, his brothers were more focused on their own interests than on France's affairs. They valued money as much as Bonaparte valued glory. A letter from Lucien to his brother Joseph, which I will include, illustrates how eager they always were to leverage the glory and success of the person to whom they owed their significance. I found this letter among my papers, but I can’t recall why or how I kept it. It's interesting because it reveals the family's view of their situation and what their fate might have been if Bonaparte, like Desaix, had fallen on the battlefield at Marengo. Furthermore, it’s fascinating to see Lucien, the philosopher, orchestrating a Te Deum to influence public funds. In any case, I will copy Lucien's letter as he wrote it, highlighting the words in italics [CAPS] and the many exclamation points that distinguish the original.







      MY BROTHER—I send you a courier; I particularly wish that the First
      Consul would give me notice of his arrival twenty-four hours beforehand,
      and that he would inform ME ALONE of the barrier by which he will enter.
      The city wishes to prepare triumphal arches for him, and it deserves not
      to be disappointed.
    
MY BROTHER—I’m sending you a messenger; I really want the First Consul to let me know about his arrival twenty-four hours in advance, and that he informs ME ALONE about the entrance he will use. The city wants to prepare triumphal arches for him, and it shouldn’t be let down.







      AT MY REQUEST a Te Deum was chanted yesterday. There were 60,000 persons
      present.
    
AT MY REQUEST a Te Deum was sung yesterday. There were 60,000 people present.







      The intrigues of Auteuil continue.
    
The Auteuil intrigues continue.






 —[This intrigue, so called from Talleyrand one of its heads, living
   in the suburb of Auteuil, arose from the wish of many of the most
   influential men to be prepared in case of the death of Napoleon in
   any action in Italy: It was simply a continuation of the same
   combinations which had been attempted or planned in 1799, till the
   arrival of Bonaparte from Egypt made the party choose him as the
   instrument for the overthrow of the Directors. There was little
   secrecy about their plans; see Miot de Melito (tome i p. 276),
   where Joseph Bonaparte tells his friends all that was being proposed
   in case his brother fell. Carnot seems to have been the most
   probable choice as leader and replacer of Bonaparte. In the above
   letter "C——," stands for Carrot, "La F——" for La Fayette, the
   "High Priest" is Sieyès, and the "friend of Auteuil" is Talleyrand;
   see Iung's Lucien, tome i. p. 411. The postscript seems to refer to
   a wretched scandal about Caroline, and Lucien; see Iung's Lucien,
   tome i. pp. 411, 432-433. The reader should remark the retention
   of this and other documents by Bourrienne, which forms one of the
   charges brought against him farther on.]— 
—[This intrigue, named after Talleyrand, one of its leaders living in the suburb of Auteuil, came about because many influential men wanted to be ready in case of Napoleon's death in any action in Italy. It was simply a continuation of the same plans that had been attempted or intended in 1799 until Bonaparte returned from Egypt, leading the group to choose him as the tool to overthrow the Directors. Their plans were not very secret; see Miot de Melito (tome i p. 276), where Joseph Bonaparte shares with his friends everything being proposed in case his brother fell. Carnot seems to have been the most likely choice as the leader and successor of Bonaparte. In the letter above, "C——" stands for Carrot, "La F——" for La Fayette, the "High Priest" is Sieyès, and the "friend of Auteuil" is Talleyrand; see Iung's Lucien, tome i. p. 411. The postscript seems to refer to a scandal involving Caroline and Lucien; see Iung's Lucien, tome i. pp. 411, 432-433. The reader should note the retention of this and other documents by Bourrienne, which is one of the charges brought against him later.]—







      —It has been found difficult to decide between C—— and
      La F——. The latter has proposed his daughter in marriage to
      me. Intrigue has been carried to the last extreme. I do not know yet
      whether the High Priest has decided for one party or the other. I believe
      that he would cheat them both for an Orleans, and your friend of Auteuil
      was at the bottom of all. The news of the battle of Marengo petrified
      them, and yet next day the High Priest certainly spent three hours with
      your friend of Auteuil. As to us, had the victory of Marengo closed the
      First Consul's career we should now have been Proscribed.
    
—It has been tough to choose between C—— and La F——. The latter has proposed his daughter to me for marriage. The intrigue has reached its peak. I still don't know whether the High Priest has made a decision for one side or the other. I think he would deceive them both for an Orleans, and your friend from Auteuil was behind it all. The news of the battle of Marengo shocked them, yet the next day the High Priest spent three hours with your friend from Auteuil. As for us, if Marengo had ended the First Consul's career, we would have been Proscribed by now.







      Your letters say nothing of what I expected to hear. I hope at least to be
      informed of the answer from Vienna before any one. I am sorry you have not
      paid me back for the battle of Marengo.
    
Your letters don’t mention what I was hoping to hear. I at least hope to get the answer from Vienna before anyone else does. I'm disappointed that you haven't repaid me for the battle of Marengo.






The festival of the 14th of July will be very gratifying. We expect
peace as a certainty, and the triumphant return of the First Consul.
The family is all well. Your wife and all her family are at
Mortfontaine. Ney is at Paris. Why do you return with the First Consul?
Peace! and Italy! Think of our last interview. I embrace you.
                       (Signed) LUCIEN.
On the margin is written— 
The festival on July 14th will be a great joy. We're confident about peace and excited for the triumphant return of the First Consul. The whole family is doing well. Your wife and her family are at Mortfontaine. Ney is in Paris. Why are you coming back with the First Consul? Peace! And Italy! Remember our last meeting. Hugs and kisses.  
                       (Signed) LUCIEN.  
On the margin is written—  







      P.S.—Read the letter addressed to the Consul, and give it to him
      AFTER YOU HAVE CAREFULLY CLOSED IT.
    
P.S.—Read the letter to the Consul and hand it to him AFTER YOU HAVE CLOSED IT CAREFULLY.






Forward the enclosed. Madame Murat never lodged in my house. Her
husband is a fool, whom his wife ought to punish by not writing to him
for a month.
             (Signed) LUCIEN BONAPARTE

Forward the enclosed. Madame Murat never stayed at my place. Her husband is a fool, and she should teach him a lesson by not writing to him for a month.  
             (Signed) LUCIEN BONAPARTE







      Bonaparte, confirmed in his power by the victory of Marengo, remained some
      days longer at Milan to settle the affairs of Italy. He directed one to
      furnish Madame Grassini with money to pay her expenses to Paris. We
      departed amidst the acclamations of the inhabitants, and took the road to
      Turin. The First Consul stopped at Turin for some hours, and inspected the
      citadel, which had been surrendered to us in pursuance of the capitulation
      of Alessandria. In passing over Mont Cenis we observed the carriage of
      Madame Kellerman, who was going to meet her husband. Bonaparte on
      recognizing the lady stopped his carriage and congratulated her on the
      gallant conduct of her husband at the battle of Marengo.
    
Bonaparte, solidified in his power after the victory at Marengo, stayed in Milan a few more days to sort out affairs in Italy. He instructed someone to provide Madame Grassini with funds for her trip to Paris. We left amidst cheers from the locals and headed towards Turin. The First Consul stopped in Turin for a few hours and toured the citadel, which had been handed over to us following the capitulation of Alessandria. While crossing Mont Cenis, we noticed Madame Kellerman's carriage, who was on her way to meet her husband. Bonaparte, recognizing her, halted his carriage and congratulated her on her husband’s bravery in the battle of Marengo.







      On our arrival at Lyons we alighted at the Hotel des Celestins, and the
      loud acclamations of a numerous multitude assembled round the hotel
      obliged Bonaparte to show himself on the balcony. Next day he proceeded to
      the Square of Bellecour, where, amidst the plaudits of the people, he laid
      the first stone of some new buildings destined to efface one of the
      disasters of the Revolution.
    
On our arrival in Lyon, we got off at the Hotel des Celestins, and the loud cheers from a large crowd gathered around the hotel forced Bonaparte to appear on the balcony. The next day, he went to the Square of Bellecour, where, amidst the applause of the people, he laid the first stone for some new buildings designed to erase one of the disasters of the Revolution.







      We left Lyons that evening and continued our journey by way of Dijon. On
      our arrival in that town the joy of the inhabitants was very great. I
      never saw a more graceful and captivating sight than that which was
      presented by a group of beautiful young females, crowned with flowers, who
      accompanied Bonaparte's carriage, and which at that period, when the
      Revolution had renewed all the republican recollections of Greece and
      Rome, looked like the chorus of females dancing around the victor at the
      Olympic games.
    
We left Lyon that evening and continued our journey through Dijon. When we arrived in that town, the joy of the residents was immense. I had never seen a more beautiful and enchanting sight than a group of lovely young women, wearing flower crowns, who accompanied Bonaparte's carriage. At that time, when the Revolution had reignited all the republican memories of Greece and Rome, it looked like the chorus of women dancing around the victor at the Olympic games.







      But all our journey was not so agreeable. Some accidents awaited us. The
      First Consul's carriage broke down between Villeneuve-le-Roi and Sens. He
      sent a courier to inform my mother that he would stop at her house till
      his carriage was repaired. He dined there, and we started again at seven
      in the evening.
    
But not every part of our journey was pleasant. We faced some mishaps. The First Consul's carriage broke down between Villeneuve-le-Roi and Sens. He sent a messenger to let my mother know that he would be stopping at her house until his carriage was fixed. He had dinner there, and we set off again at seven in the evening.







      But we had other disasters to encounter. One of our off-wheels came off,
      and as we were driving at a very rapid pace the carriage was overturned on
      the bridge at a short distance from Montreau-Faut-Yonne. The First Consul,
      who sat on my left, fell upon me, and sustained no injury. My head was
      slightly hurt by striking against some things which were in the pocket of
      the carriage; but this accident was not worth stopping for, and we arrived
      at Paris on the same night, the 2d of July. Duroc, who was the third in
      the carriage, was not hurt.
    
But we faced more disasters. One of our wheels came off, and as we were going really fast, the carriage flipped over on the bridge not far from Montreau-Faut-Yonne. The First Consul, who was sitting to my left, fell onto me and wasn’t hurt at all. I bumped my head against some stuff in the carriage pocket, but it wasn’t serious enough to stop for, and we got to Paris that same night, July 2nd. Duroc, who was the third passenger in the carriage, was unharmed.







      I have already mentioned that Bonaparte was rather talkative when
      travelling; and as we were passing through Burgundy, on our return to
      Paris from Marengo, he said exultingly, "Well, a few more events like this
      campaign, and I may go down to posterity."—"I think," replied I,
      "that you have already done enough to secure great and lasting fame."—"Yes,"
      resumed he, "I have done enough, it is true. In less than two years I have
      won Cairo, Paris, and Milan; but for all that, my dear fellow, were I to
      die to-morrow I should not at the end of ten centuries occupy half a page
      of general history!"
    
I've already mentioned that Bonaparte was pretty chatty when traveling; and as we were driving through Burgundy on our way back to Paris from Marengo, he said proudly, "Well, a few more events like this campaign, and I might just go down in history."—"I think," I replied, "that you’ve already done enough to secure great and lasting fame."—"Yes," he continued, "I've done enough, that's true. In less than two years I've conquered Cairo, Paris, and Milan; but even so, my dear friend, if I were to die tomorrow, I wouldn’t even make it to half a page in the history books after a thousand years!"







      On the very day when Desaix fell on the field of Marengo Kléber was
      assassinated by a fanatical Mussulman, named Soleiman Haleby, who stabbed
      him with a dagger, and by that blow decided the fate of Egypt.
    
On the same day that Desaix died on the battlefield at Marengo, Kléber was assassinated by a fanatical Muslim named Soleiman Haleby, who stabbed him with a dagger, changing the fate of Egypt with that blow.






 —["This fellah was, at most, eighteen or twenty years of age: he
   was a native of Damascus, and declared that he had quitted his
   native city by command of the grand vizier, who had entrusted him
   with the commission of repairing to Egypt and killing the grand
   sultan of the French [Bonaparte being probably intended]. That for
   this purpose alone he had left his family, and performed the whole
   journey on foot and had received from the grand vizier no other
   money than what was absolutely requisite for the exigencies of the
   journey. On arriving at Cairo he had gone forthwith to perform his
   devotions in the great mosque, and it was only on the eve of
   executing his project that he confided it to one of the scherifs of
   the mosque" (Duc de Rovigo's Memoirs, tome 1. p. 367)]— 
—["This guy was, at most, eighteen or twenty years old: he was from Damascus and claimed that he had left his hometown on the orders of the grand vizier, who had given him the task of going to Egypt and killing the grand sultan of the French [probably meant to refer to Bonaparte]. He said that he had left his family for this reason alone and had walked the entire journey, receiving from the grand vizier only the bare minimum necessary for the trip. Upon arriving in Cairo, he immediately went to pray in the great mosque, and it was only on the eve of carrying out his plan that he shared it with one of the sheriffs of the mosque" (Duc de Rovigo's Memoirs, tome 1. p. 367)]— 







      Thus was France, on the same day, and almost at the same hour, deprived of
      two of her most distinguished generals. Menou, as senior in command,
      succeeded Kléber, and the First Consul confirmed the appointment. From
      that moment the loss of Egypt was inevitable.
    
Thus was France, on the same day, and almost at the same hour, deprived of two of her most distinguished generals. Menou, being the senior in command, took over from Kléber, and the First Consul approved the appointment. From that moment, the loss of Egypt became inevitable.







      I have a few details to give respecting the tragical death of Kléber. The
      house of Elfy Bey, which Bonaparte occupied at Cairo, and in which Kléber
      lived after his departure; had a terrace leading from a salon to an old
      ruined cistern, from which, down a few steps, there was an entrance into
      the garden. The terrace commanded a view of the grand square of El
      Beguyeh, which was to the right on coming out of the salon, while the
      garden was on the left. This terrace was Bonaparte's favourite promenade,
      especially in the evenings, when he used to walk up and down and converse
      with the persons about him, I often advised him to fill up the reservoir,
      and to make it level with the terrace. I even showed him, by concealing
      myself in it, and coming suddenly behind him, how easy it would be for any
      person to attempt his life and then escape, either by jumping into the
      square, or passing through the garden. He told me I was a coward, and was
      always in fear of death; and he determined not to make the alteration I
      suggested, which, however, he acknowledged to be advisable. Kléber's
      assassin availed himself of the facility which I so often apprehended
      might be fatal to Bonaparte.
    
I have a few details to share regarding the tragic death of Kléber. The house of Elfy Bey, which Bonaparte occupied in Cairo and where Kléber lived afterward, had a terrace that connected a salon to an old, crumbling cistern. A few steps down from this cistern led into the garden. The terrace overlooked the grand square of El Beguyeh, which was to the right when exiting the salon, while the garden was to the left. This terrace was Bonaparte's favorite place to stroll, especially in the evenings when he would walk back and forth, chatting with those around him. I often advised him to fill in the reservoir and make it level with the terrace. I even demonstrated, by hiding in it and suddenly appearing behind him, how easy it would be for someone to try to kill him and then escape by either jumping into the square or going through the garden. He told me I was a coward and always afraid of death, and he decided not to make the changes I suggested, although he did admit it was a good idea. Kléber's assassin took advantage of the very vulnerability I had often worried could be deadly for Bonaparte.







      I shall not atop to refute all the infamous rumours which were circulated
      respecting Kléber's death. When the First Consul received the unexpected
      intelligence he could scarcely believe it. He was deeply affected; and on
      reading the particulars of the assassination he instantly called to mind
      how often he had been in the same situation as that in which Kléber was
      killed, and all I had said respecting the danger of the reservoir—a
      danger from which it is inconceivable he should have escaped, especially
      after his Syrian expedition had excited the fury of the natives.
      Bonaparte's knowledge of Kléber's talents—the fact of his having
      confided to him the command of the army, and the aid which he constantly
      endeavoured to transmit to him, repelled at once the horrible suspicion of
      his having had the least participation in the crime, and the thought that
      he was gratified to hear of it.
    
I won’t bother to refute all the infamous rumors about Kléber's death. When the First Consul got the unexpected news, he could hardly believe it. He was deeply affected; and upon reading the details of the assassination, he immediately remembered how often he had been in a situation similar to the one in which Kléber was killed, and everything I said about the danger of the reservoir—a danger from which it seems impossible he could have escaped, especially after his Syrian campaign had stirred the anger of the locals. Bonaparte's awareness of Kléber's abilities—the fact that he had entrusted him with the command of the army, along with the support he constantly tried to send him—immediately dispelled the terrible suspicion that he had any involvement in the crime or that he felt pleased to hear about it.







      It is very certain that Bonaparte's dislike of Kléber was as decided as
      the friendship he cherished for Desaix. Kléber's fame annoyed him, for he
      was weak enough to be annoyed at it. He knew the manner in which Kléber
      spoke of him, which was certainly not the most respectful. During the long
      and sanguinary siege of St. Jean d'Acre Kléber said to me, "That little
      scoundrel Bonaparte, who is no higher than my boot, will enslave France.
      See what a villainous expedition he has succeeded in involving us in."
      Kléber often made the same remark to others as well as to me. I am not
      certain that it was ever reported to Bonaparte; but there is reason to
      believe that those who found it their interest to accuse others did not
      spare Kléber.
    
It’s clear that Bonaparte’s dislike for Kléber was as strong as the friendship he had for Desaix. Kléber’s fame irritated him because he was insecure enough to be bothered by it. He was aware of how Kléber talked about him, which was definitely not the most respectful. During the long and bloody siege of St. Jean d'Acre, Kléber said to me, "That little scoundrel Bonaparte, who is no taller than my boot, is going to enslave France. Just look at what a terrible expedition he’s dragged us into." Kléber often made similar comments to others as well as to me. I can’t be sure if it was ever reported to Bonaparte, but there’s reason to think that those who found it beneficial to accuse others didn’t hold back on Kléber.







      Kléber, who was a sincere republican, saw and dreaded for his country's
      sake the secret views and inordinate ambition of Bonaparte. He was a
      grumbler by nature; yet he never evinced discontent in the discharge of
      his duties as a soldier. He swore and stormed, but marched bravely to the
      cannon's mouth: he was indeed courage personified. One day when he was in
      the trench at St. Jean d'Acre, standing up, and by his tall stature
      exposed to every shot, Bonaparte called to him, "Stoop down, Kléber, stoop
      down!"—"Why;" replied he, "your confounded trench does not reach to
      my knees." He never regarded the Egyptian expedition with a favourable
      eye. He thought it too expensive, and utterly useless to France. He was
      convinced that in the situation in which we stood, without a navy or a
      powerful Government, it would have been better to have confined our
      attention to Europe than to have wasted French blood and money on the
      banks of the Nile, and among the ruined cities of Syria. Kléber, who was a
      cool, reflecting man, judged Bonaparte without enthusiasm, a thing
      somewhat rare at that time, and he was not blind to any of his faults.
    
Kléber, a genuine republican, was aware of and feared Bonaparte's secret intentions and excessive ambitions for the sake of his country. He was naturally a complainer, but he never showed any dissatisfaction while performing his duties as a soldier. He cursed and yelled, but fearlessly marched straight into battle; he truly embodied courage. One day, while he was standing in the trench at St. Jean d'Acre, exposed to enemy fire because of his tall stature, Bonaparte shouted to him, "Crouch down, Kléber, crouch down!" Kléber replied, "Why? This damn trench doesn't even reach my knees." He never viewed the Egyptian expedition positively. He considered it too costly and completely pointless for France. He believed that given our circumstances, without a navy or a strong government, it would have been wiser to focus on Europe rather than wasting French blood and money on the banks of the Nile and in the devastated cities of Syria. Kléber, being a calm and thoughtful person, assessed Bonaparte without excitement, which was quite rare at that time, and he was fully aware of all his flaws.







      Bonaparte alleged that Kléber said to him, "General, you are as great as
      the world!" Such a remark is in direct opposition to Kléber's character.
      He was too sincere to say anything against his conviction. Bonaparte,
      always anxious to keep Egypt, of which the preservation alone could
      justify the conquest, allowed Kléber to speak because he acted at the same
      time. He knew that Kléber's sense of military duty would always triumph
      over any opposition he might cherish to his views and plans. Thus the
      death of his lieutenant, far from causing Bonaparte any feeling of
      satisfaction, afflicted him the more, because it almost totally deprived
      him if the hope of preserving a conquest which had cost France so dear,
      and which was his work.
    
Bonaparte claimed that Kléber said to him, "General, you are as great as the world!" Such a statement is completely contrary to Kléber's character. He was too honest to say anything that contradicted his beliefs. Bonaparte, always eager to keep Egypt—whose preservation alone could justify the conquest—allowed Kléber to speak because he was also acting at the same time. He understood that Kléber's sense of military duty would always outweigh any opposition he might have to his views and plans. Therefore, the death of his lieutenant, far from giving Bonaparte any satisfaction, actually troubled him even more because it nearly took away his hope of preserving a conquest that had cost France so much and that was his own achievement.







      The news of the death of Kléber arrived shortly after our return to Paris.
      Bonaparte was anxiously expecting accounts from Egypt, none having been
      received for a considerable time. The arrival of the courier who brought
      the fatal intelligence gave rise to a scene which I may relate here. It
      was two o'clock in the morning when the courier arrived at the Tuileries.
      In his hurry the First Consul could not wait to rouse any one to call me
      up. I had informed him some days before that if he should want me during
      the night he should send for me to the corridor, as I had changed my
      bedchamber on account of my wife's accouchement. He came up himself and
      instead of knocking at my door knocked at that of my secretary. The latter
      immediately rose, and opening the door to his surprise saw the First
      Consul with a candle in his hand, a Madras handkerchief on his head, and
      having on his gray greatcoat. Bonaparte, not knowing of the little step
      down into the room, slipped and nearly fell, "Where is Bourrienne?" asked
      he. The surprise of my secretary at the apparition of the First Consul can
      be imagined. "What; General, is it you?"—"Where is Bourrienne?" Then
      my secretary, in his shirt, showed the First Consul my door. After having
      told him that he was sorry at having called him up, Napoleon came to me. I
      dressed in a hurry, and we went downstairs to my usual room. We rang
      several times before they opened the door for us. The guards were not
      asleep, but having heard so much running to and fro feared we were
      thieves. At last they opened the door, and the First Consul threw on the
      table the immense packet of despatches which he had just received. They
      had been fumigated and steeped in vinegar. When he read the announcement
      of the death of Kléber the expression of his countenance sufficiently
      denoted the painful feelings which arose in his mind. I read in his face;
      EGYPT IS LOST!
    
The news of Kléber's death arrived shortly after we got back to Paris. Bonaparte was eagerly waiting for updates from Egypt, as none had come in for quite a while. When the courier who brought the tragic news arrived, it led to a scene I need to share. It was two in the morning when the courier reached the Tuileries. In his rush, the First Consul couldn't wait to wake anyone to call me. I had let him know days earlier that if he needed me during the night, he should send for me in the corridor, since I had changed my room due to my wife's recent childbirth. He came to my room himself and instead of knocking on my door, knocked on my secretary’s. My secretary quickly got up, and when he opened the door, he was surprised to see the First Consul holding a candle, wearing a Madras handkerchief on his head and his gray greatcoat. Bonaparte, unaware of the small step down into the room, nearly stumbled. "Where is Bourrienne?" he asked. My secretary's shock at seeing the First Consul was evident. "What; General, is it you?"—"Where is Bourrienne?" Then my secretary, in his nightclothes, pointed to my door. After apologizing for waking him up, Napoleon came to me. I quickly got dressed, and we headed downstairs to my usual room. We rang several times before anyone let us in. The guards weren’t asleep; they had heard so much commotion and were worried we were thieves. Finally, they opened the door, and the First Consul tossed an enormous packet of dispatches onto the table that he had just received. They had been fumigated and soaked in vinegar. When he read the announcement of Kléber's death, the look on his face clearly showed the painful thoughts swirling in his mind. I could see it written on his face: EGYPT IS LOST!








 


 




















      CHAPTER III.
    






   Bonaparte's wish to negotiate with England and Austria—
   An emigrant's letter—Domestic details—The bell—Conspiracy of
   Ceracchi, Arena, Harrel, and others—Bonaparte's visit to the opera
   —Arrests—Rariel appointed commandant of Vincennes—The Duc
   d'Enghien's foster-sister—The 3d Nivoise—First performance of
   Haydn's "Creation"—The infernal machine—Congratulatory addresses—
   Arbitrary condemnations—M. Tissot erased from the list of the
   banished—M. Truguet—Bonapartes' hatred of the Jacobins explained—
   The real criminals discovered—Justification of Fouché—Execution of
   St. Regent and Carbon—Caesar, Cromwell, and Bonaparte—Conversation
   between Bonaparte and Fouché—Pretended anger—Fouché's
   dissimulation—Lucien's resignation—His embassy to Spain—War
   between Spain and Portugal—Dinner at Fouché's—Treachery of Joseph
   Bonaparte—A trick upon the First Consul—A three days' coolness—
   Reconciliation.

   Bonaparte's desire to negotiate with England and Austria—A letter from an emigrant—Domestic matters—The bell—The conspiracy of Ceracchi, Arena, Harrel, and others—Bonaparte's trip to the opera—Arrests—Rariel appointed commander of Vincennes—The Duc d'Enghien's foster-sister—The 3rd Nivoise—First performance of Haydn's "Creation"—The infernal machine—Congratulatory messages—Arbitrary condemnations—M. Tissot removed from the list of the banished—M. Truguet—Bonaparte's resentment towards the Jacobins explained—The real culprits identified—Justification of Fouché—Execution of St. Regent and Carbon—Caesar, Cromwell, and Bonaparte—Conversation between Bonaparte and Fouché—Pretend anger—Fouché's dissimulation—Lucien's resignation—His mission to Spain—Conflict between Spain and Portugal—Dinner at Fouché's—Betrayal by Joseph Bonaparte—A trick played on the First Consul—A three-day silence—Reconciliation.







      The happy events of the campaign of Italy had been crowned by the
      armistice, concluded on the 6th of July. This armistice was broken on the
      1st of September, and renewed after the battle of Hohenlinden. On his
      return from Marengo Bonaparte was received with more enthusiasm than ever.
      The rapidity with which, in a campaign of less than two months, he had
      restored the triumph of the French standard, excited universal
      astonishment. He then actively endeavoured to open negotiations with
      England and Austria; but difficulties opposed him in every direction. He
      frequently visited the theatre, where his presence attracted prodigious
      throngs of persons, all eager to see and applaud him.
    
The successful events of the campaign in Italy were capped off by the armistice signed on July 6th. This armistice was broken on September 1st and then renewed after the battle of Hohenlinden. When Bonaparte returned from Marengo, he was welcomed with even more enthusiasm than before. The speed with which he had restored the glory of the French flag in a campaign lasting less than two months amazed everyone. He then made active efforts to start negotiations with England and Austria, but he faced challenges on all sides. He often went to the theater, where his presence drew huge crowds, all eager to see and cheer for him.







      The immense number of letters which were at this time addressed to the
      First Consul is scarcely conceivable. They contained requests for places,
      protestations of fidelity, and, in short, they were those petitionary
      circulars that are addressed to all persons in power. These letters were
      often exceedingly curious, and I have preserved many of them; among the
      rest was one from Durosel Beaumanoir, an emigrant who had fled to Jersey.
      This letter contains some interesting particulars relative to Bonaparte's
      family. It is dated Jersey, 12th July 1800, and the following are the most
      remarkable passages it contains:
    
The huge number of letters sent to the First Consul at that time is almost unbelievable. They contained requests for jobs, declarations of loyalty, and basically, they were the typical petitions sent to anyone in power. These letters were often very interesting, and I’ve kept many of them; among them was one from Durosel Beaumanoir, an emigrant who had fled to Jersey. This letter includes some intriguing details about Bonaparte's family. It’s dated Jersey, July 12, 1800, and here are the most notable parts it contains:






   I trust; General, that I may, without indiscretion, intrude upon
   your notice, to remind you of what, I flatter myself, you have not
   totally forgotten, after having lived eighteen or nineteen years at
   Ajaccio. But you will, perhaps, be surprised that so trifling an
   item should be the subject of the letter which I have the honour to
   address to you. You cannot have forgotten, General, that when your
   late father was obliged to take your brothers from the college of
   Autun, from whence he went to see you at Brienne, he was unprovided
   with money, and he asked me for twenty-five louis, which I lent him
   with pleasure. After his return he had no opportunity of paying me,
   and when I left Ajaccio your mother offered to dispose of some plate
   in order to pay the debt. To this I objected, and told her that I
   would wait until she could pay me at her convenience, and previous
   to the breaking out of the revolution I believe it was not in her
   power to fulfil her wish of discharging the debt.

   I am sorry, General, to be obliged to trouble you about such a
   trifle. But such is my unfortunate situation that even this trifle
   is of some importance to me. Driven from my country, and obliged to
   take refuge in this island, where everything is exceedingly
   expensive, the little sum I have mentioned, which was formerly a
   matter of indifference, would now be of great service to me.

   You will understand, General, that at the age of eighty-six, after
   serving served my country well for sixty years, without the least
   interruption, not counting the time of emigration, chased from every
   place, I have been obliged to take refuge here, to subsist on the
   scanty succour given by the English Government to the French
   emigrant. I say emigrant because I have been forced to be one.
   I had no intention of being one, but a horde of brigands, who came
   from Caen to my house to assassinate me, considered I had committed
   the great crime in being the senior general of the canton and in
   having the Grand Cross of St. Louis: this was too much for them; if
   it had not been for the cries of my neighbours, my door would have
   been broken open, and I should have been assassinated; and I had but
   time to fly by a door at the back, only carrying away what I had on
   me. At first I retired to Paris, but there they told me that I
   could do nothing but go into a foreign country, so great was the
   hate entertained for me by my fellow-citizens, although I lived in
   retirement, never having any discussion with any one. Thus,
   General; I have abandoned all I possessed, money and goods, leaving
   them at the mercy of what they call the nation, which has profited a
   good deal by this, as I have nothing left in the world, not even a
   spot to put my foot on. If even a horse had been reserved for me,
   General, I could ask for what depends on you, for I have heard it
   said that some emigrants have been allowed to return home. I do not
   even ask this favour, not having a place to rest my foot. And,
   besides, I have with me here an exiled brother, older than I am,
   very ill and in perfect second childhood, whom I could not abandon.
   I am resigned to my own unhappy fate, but my sole and great grief is
   that not only I myself have been ill-treated, but that my fate has,
   contrary to the law, injured relations whom I love and respect. I
   have a mother-in-law, eighty years old, who has been refused the
   dower I had given her from my property, and this will make me die a
   bankrupt if nothing is changed, which makes me miserable.

   I acknowledge, General, that I know little of the new style, but,
   according to the old form, I am your humble servant,

                       DUROSEL BEAUMANOIR.

   I hope, General, that I can, without overstepping, bring to your attention something that I believe you haven't completely forgotten after spending eighteen or nineteen years in Ajaccio. However, you might be surprised that such a small matter is the focus of this letter I’m writing to you. You surely remember, General, that when your late father had to take your brothers out of the college in Autun to visit you at Brienne, he didn’t have any money, and he asked me for twenty-five louis, which I gladly lent him. After he returned, he had no chance to repay me, and when I was leaving Ajaccio, your mother offered to sell some silverware to pay off the debt. I objected to that and told her that I would wait until she could repay me at her convenience. Before the revolution started, I believe it was beyond her ability to settle the debt.

   I regret having to bother you about such a trivial matter. But my unfortunate situation makes even this small sum significant to me. Forced from my home and having to seek refuge on this island, where everything is extremely expensive, the amount I mentioned, which I used to consider insignificant, would be really helpful to me now.

   You have to understand, General, that at eighty-six, after faithfully serving my country for sixty years without interruption, excluding the time of emigration, and being driven from every place, I had to find refuge here and live on the meager support provided by the English Government for French emigrants. I say "emigrant" because I was forced into this situation. I never intended to be one, but a group of bandits came from Caen to my home to kill me, thinking I had committed a great crime by being the senior general of the canton and holding the Grand Cross of St. Louis. That was too much for them; if it weren’t for the screams of my neighbors, they would have broken down my door and killed me. I barely managed to escape through a back door, taking only what I had on me. At first, I went to Paris, but there they told me my only option was to leave for a foreign country because of the extreme hatred my fellow citizens had for me, even though I lived in seclusion and never engaged in disputes. So, General, I’ve lost everything I had, both money and possessions, leaving them to the mercy of what they call the nation, which has gained a lot from this since I have nothing left, not even a place to stand. If I had at least a horse, General, I could ask you for something, as I’ve heard that some emigrants have been allowed to return home. But I’m not even asking for that favor since I have no place to go. Besides, I have an exiled brother with me, older than I am, very ill and almost in a childlike state, whom I could not abandon. I’ve accepted my unhappy fate, but my greatest sorrow is that not only I have been mistreated, but that my situation has, unfairly, harmed the relatives I love and respect. I have a mother-in-law, eighty years old, who has been denied the dowry I had set aside for her from my property, which will leave me bankrupt if nothing changes, causing me great distress.

   I admit, General, that I’m not very familiar with the new ways, but in the old style, I remain your humble servant,

                       DUROSEL BEAUMANOIR.







      I read this letter to the First Consul, who immediately said, "Bourrienne,
      this is sacred! Do not lose a minute. Send the old man ten times the sum.
      Write to General Durosel that he shall be immediately erased from the list
      of emigrants. What mischief those brigands of the Convention have done! I
      can never repair it all." Bonaparte uttered these words with a degree of
      emotion which I rarely saw him evince. In the evening he asked me whether
      I had executed his orders, which I had done without losing a moment. The
      death of M. Froth had given me a lesson as to the value of time!
    
I read this letter to the First Consul, who immediately said, "Bourrienne, this is crucial! Don’t waste a second. Send the old man ten times the amount. Write to General Durosel that he should be taken off the list of emigrants right away. Look at the trouble those rogues in the Convention have caused! I can never fix it all." Bonaparte said this with an emotion I rarely saw from him. In the evening, he asked me if I had followed his orders, which I had done without delay. The death of M. Froth had taught me the importance of time!







      Availing myself of the privilege I have already frequently taken of making
      abrupt transitions from one subject to another, according as the
      recollection of past circumstances occurs to my mind, I shall here note
      down a few details, which may not improperly be called domestic, and
      afterwards describe a conspiracy which was protected by the very man
      against whom it was hatched.
    
Taking advantage of the privilege I’ve often used to make sudden shifts from one topic to another, depending on what comes to mind, I’ll jot down a few details that could be considered domestic, and then I’ll describe a conspiracy that was shielded by the very person it was aimed at.







      At the Tuileries, where the First Consul always resided during the winter
      and sometimes a part of the summer, the grand salon was situated between
      his cabinet and the Room in which he received the persons with whom he had
      appointed audiences. When in this audience-chamber, if he wanted anything
      or had occasion to speak to anybody, he pulled a bell which was answered
      by a confidential servant named Landoire, who was the messenger of the
      First Consul's cabinet. When Bonaparte's bell rung it was usually for the
      purpose of making some inquiry of me respecting a paper, a name, a date,
      or some matter of that sort; and then Landoire had to pass through the
      cabinet and salon to answer the bell and afterwards to return and to tell
      me I was wanted. Impatient at the delay occasioned by this running about,
      Bonaparte, without saying anything to me, ordered the bell to be altered
      so that it should ring within the cabinet; and exactly above my table.
      Next morning when I entered the cabinet I saw a man mounted-upon a ladder.
      "What are you doing here?" said I. "I am hanging a bell, sir." I called
      Landoire and asked him who had given the order. "The First Consul," he
      replied. I immediately ordered the man to come down and remove the ladder,
      which he accordingly did. When I went, according to custom, to awaken the
      First Consul and read the newspapers to him I said, "General, I found a
      man this morning hanging a bell in your cabinet. I was told it was by your
      orders; but being convinced there must be some mistake I sent him away.
      Surely the bell was not intended for you, and I cannot imagine it was
      intended for me: who then could it be for?—" "What a stupid fellow
      that Landoire is!" said Bonaparte. "Yesterday, when Cambacérès was with
      me, I wanted you. Landoire did not come when I touched the bell. I thought
      it was broken, and ordered him to get it repaired. I suppose the
      bell-hanger was doing it when you saw him, for you know the wire passes
      through the cabinet." I was satisfied with this explanation, though I was
      not deceived, by it. For the sake of appearance he reproved Landoire, who,
      however, had done nothing more than execute the order he had received. How
      could he imagine I would submit to such treatment, considering that we had
      been friends since our boyhood, and that I was now living on full terms of
      confidence and familiarity with him?
    
At the Tuileries, where the First Consul usually stayed during the winter and sometimes part of the summer, the grand salon was located between his office and the room where he met with people he had scheduled appointments with. In this audience chamber, if he needed anything or wanted to speak to someone, he would ring a bell, which was answered by a trusted servant named Landoire, the messenger for the First Consul's office. When Bonaparte rang the bell, it was usually to ask me about a paper, a name, a date, or something similar; then Landoire had to go through the office and salon to respond to the bell and then return to tell me I was needed. Frustrated with the delays caused by this back-and-forth, Bonaparte, without saying anything to me, ordered the bell to be moved so that it would ring inside his office, directly above my table. The next morning, when I entered the office, I saw a man on a ladder. "What are you doing here?" I asked. "I’m hanging a bell, sir." I called Landoire and asked who had given the order. "The First Consul," he replied. I immediately ordered the man to come down and take away the ladder, which he did. When I went to wake the First Consul and read the newspapers to him, I said, "General, I found a man this morning hanging a bell in your office. I was told it was by your orders, but I thought there must be some mistake, so I sent him away. Surely the bell wasn’t meant for you, and I can’t imagine it was meant for me; who could it possibly be for?" "What a foolish guy Landoire is!" Bonaparte said. "Yesterday, when Cambacérès was with me, I wanted you. Landoire didn’t come when I rang the bell. I thought it was broken and told him to get it fixed. I guess the bell-hanger was doing that when you saw him, since the wire runs through the office." I was satisfied with this explanation, even though I wasn’t fooled by it. For appearances, he reprimanded Landoire, who really had done nothing more than follow the order he received. How could he think I would tolerate such treatment when we had been friends since childhood and I was now living in complete trust and familiarity with him?







      Before I speak of the conspiracy of Ceracchi, Arena, Topino-Lebrun, and
      others, I must notice a remark made by Napoleon at St. Helena. He said, or
      is alleged to have said, "The two attempts which placed me in the greatest
      danger were those of the sculptor Ceracchi and of the fanatic of
      Schoenbrun." I was not at Schoenbrun at the time; but I am convinced that
      Bonaparte was in the most imminent danger. I have been informed on
      unquestionable authority that Staps set out from Erfurth with the
      intention of assassinating the Emperor; but he wanted the necessary
      courage for executing the design. He was armed with a large dagger, and
      was twice sufficiently near Napoleon to have struck him. I heard this from
      Rapp, who seized Stags, and felt the hilt of the dagger under his coat. On
      that occasion Bonaparte owed his life only to the irresolution of the
      young 'illuminato' who wished to sacrifice him to his fanatical fury. It
      is equally certain that on another occasion, respecting which the author
      of the St. Helena narrative observes complete silence, another fanatic—more
      dangerous than Steps attempted the life of Napoleon.
    
Before I talk about the conspiracy involving Ceracchi, Arena, Topino-Lebrun, and others, I need to mention a comment made by Napoleon at St. Helena. He said, or is said to have said, "The two attempts that put me in the greatest danger were those of the sculptor Ceracchi and the fanatic from Schoenbrun." I wasn't at Schoenbrun at that time, but I believe Bonaparte was in real danger. I've been told by reliable sources that Staps left Erfurth with the intent to assassinate the Emperor; however, he lacked the courage to go through with it. He was carrying a large dagger and got close enough to Napoleon twice to have attacked him. I heard this from Rapp, who caught Staps and felt the dagger's hilt under his coat. On that occasion, Bonaparte owed his life solely to the hesitation of the young 'illuminato' who wanted to kill him in a fit of fanaticism. It's also clear that on another occasion, which the author of the St. Helena narrative completely ignores, another fanatic—more dangerous than Staps—attempted to take Napoleon's life.






 —[At the time of this attempt I was not with Napoleon; but he
   directed me to see the madmen who had formed the design of
   assassinating him. It will be seen in the course of these Memoirs
   what were his plans, and what was the result of them—Bourrienne]— 
 —I wasn't with Napoleon during this attempt, but he sent me to meet the crazies who plotted to assassinate him. As you’ll see throughout these Memoirs, there were his plans and the outcomes of those plans—Bourrienne]— 







      The following is a correct statement of the facts relative to Ceracchi's
      conspiracy. The plot itself was a mere shadow; but it was deemed advisable
      to give it substance, to exaggerate, at least in appearance, the danger to
      which the First Consul had been exposed:—
    
The following is an accurate account of the facts related to Ceracchi's conspiracy. The plot itself was insignificant; however, it was considered wise to give it more weight, to at least seemingly exaggerate the threat that the First Consul faced:—







      There was at that time in Paris an idle fellow called Harrel; he had been
      a 'chef de battalion', but he had been dismissed the service, and was
      consequently dissatisfied. He became connected with Cerracchi, Arena,
      Topino-Lebrun, and Demerville. From different motives all these
      individuals were violently hostile to the First Consul, who on his part,
      was no friend to Cerracchi and Arena, but scarcely knew the two others.
      These four individuals formed, in conjunction with Harrel, the design of
      assassinating the First Consul, and the time fixed for the perpetration of
      the deed was one evening when Bonaparte intended to visit the opera.
    
At that time in Paris, there was a guy named Harrel who had a lot of free time on his hands. He had been a battalion chief but got kicked out of the military, leaving him unhappy. He got involved with Cerracchi, Arena, Topino-Lebrun, and Demerville. For various reasons, all these people were strongly opposed to the First Consul, who didn't really like Cerracchi and Arena, and barely knew the other two. Together with Harrel, these four planned to assassinate the First Consul, and they set the date for an evening when Bonaparte was supposed to go to the opera.







      On the 20th of September 1804 Harrel came to me at the Tuileries. He
      revealed to me the plot in which he was engaged, and promised that his
      accomplices should be apprehended in the very act if I would supply him
      with money to bring the plot to maturity. I knew not how to act upon this
      disclosure, which I, however, could not reject without incurring too great
      a responsibility. I immediately communicated the business to the First
      Consul, who ordered me to supply Harrel with money; but not to mention the
      affair to Fouché, to whom he wished to prove that he knew better how to
      manage the police than he did.
    
On September 20, 1804, Harrel came to see me at the Tuileries. He told me about the plot he was involved in and promised that his partners would be caught in the act if I gave him money to help bring the plot to fruition. I wasn't sure how to handle this information, but I couldn't just turn him down without taking on too much responsibility. I quickly reported the situation to the First Consul, who instructed me to give Harrel the money but told me not to mention it to Fouché, as he wanted to show he could handle the police better than Fouché could.







      Harrel came nearly every evening at eleven o'clock to inform me of the
      progress of the conspiracy, which I immediately communicated to the First
      Consul, who was not sorry to find Arena and Ceracchi deeply committed. But
      the time passed on, and nothing was done. The First Consul began to grow
      impatient. At length Harrel came to say that they had no money to purchase
      arms. Money was given him. He, however, returned next day to say that the
      gunsmith refused to sell them arms without authority. It was now found
      necessary to communicate the business to Fouché in order that he might
      grant the necessary permission to the gunsmith, which I was not empowered
      to do.
    
Harrel came almost every evening at eleven to update me on the conspiracy's progress, which I quickly relayed to the First Consul, who was pleased to learn that Arena and Ceracchi were deeply involved. But time went on, and nothing happened. The First Consul started to get impatient. Finally, Harrel came to say they didn't have any money to buy arms. He was given some cash. However, he came back the next day to say that the gunsmith refused to sell them weapons without authorization. It was then deemed necessary to involve Fouché so he could give the gunsmith the required permission, which I wasn't authorized to do.







      On the 10th of October the Consuls, after the breaking up of the Council,
      assembled in the cabinet of their colleague. Bonaparte asked them in my
      presence whether they thought he ought to go to the opera. They observed
      that as every precaution was taken no danger could be apprehended, and
      that it was desirable to show the futility of attempts against the First
      Consul's life. After dinner Bonaparte put on a greatcoat over his green
      uniform and got into his carriage accompanied by me and Duroc. He seated
      himself in front of his box, which at that time was on the left of the
      theatre between the two columns which separated the front and side boxes.
      When we had been in the theatre about half an hour the First Consul
      directed me to go and see what was doing in the corridor. Scarcely had I
      left the box than I heard a great uproar, and soon discovered that a
      number of persons, whose names I could not learn, had been arrested. I
      informed the First Consul of what I had heard, and we immediately returned
      to the Tuileries.
    
On October 10th, the Consuls gathered in the office of their colleague after the Council had ended. Bonaparte asked them, while I was present, if he should go to the opera. They noted that since all precautions were taken, there was no danger to worry about, and it would be good to demonstrate that attempts on the First Consul’s life were pointless. After dinner, Bonaparte put on a greatcoat over his green uniform and got into his carriage with me and Duroc. He sat in front of his box, which was then on the left side of the theater between the two columns separating the front and side boxes. About half an hour into the performance, the First Consul asked me to check what was happening in the corridor. As soon as I left the box, I heard a huge commotion and soon learned that several people, whose names I couldn't find out, had been arrested. I reported back to the First Consul with what I had heard, and we quickly returned to the Tuileries.







      It is certain that the object of the conspiracy was to take the First
      Consul's life, and that the conspirators neglected nothing which could
      further the accomplishment of their atrocious design. The plot, however,
      was known through the disclosures of Harrel; and it would have been easy
      to avert instead of conjuring up the storm. Such was, and such still is,
      my opinion. Harrel's name was again restored to the army list, and he was
      appointed commandant of Vincennes. This post he held at the time of the
      Duc d'Enghien's assassination. I was afterwards told that his wife was
      foster-sister to the unfortunate prince, and that she recognised him when
      he entered the prison which in a few short hours was to prove his grave.
    
It's clear that the goal of the conspiracy was to kill the First Consul, and the conspirators did everything they could to carry out their horrible plan. However, the plot was revealed through Harrel's disclosures; it would have been easy to prevent the situation rather than letting it escalate. That has always been my belief. Harrel's name was reinstated on the army list, and he was made the commandant of Vincennes. He held that position at the time of the Duc d'Enghien's assassination. I later learned that his wife was the foster-sister of the unfortunate prince and recognized him when he entered the prison that would soon claim his life.







      Carbonneau, one of the individuals condemned, candidly confessed the part
      he had taken in the plot, which he said was brought to maturity solely by
      the agents of the police, who were always eager to prove their zeal to
      their employers by some new discovery.
    
Carbonneau, one of the people convicted, openly admitted his role in the scheme, claiming it was entirely driven by the police agents, who were always eager to show their enthusiasm to their bosses with some new find.







      Although three months intervened between the machinations of Ceracchi and
      Arena and the horrible attempt of the 3d Nivôse, I shall relate these two
      events in immediate succession; for if they had no other points of
      resemblance they were at least alike in their object. The conspirators in
      the first affair were of the revolutionary faction. They sought
      Bonaparte's life as if with the view of rendering his resemblance to
      Caesar so complete that not even a Brutus should be wanting. The latter,
      it must with regret be confessed, were of the Royalist party, and in their
      wish to destroy the First Consul they were not deterred by the fear of
      sacrificing a great number of citizens.
    
Although three months passed between Ceracchi and Arena's plotting and the terrible attempt on the 3rd of Nivôse, I will describe these two events one after the other; because, even if they had no other similarities, they were at least alike in their intention. The conspirators in the first incident were from the revolutionary side. They aimed to take Bonaparte's life as if to make his resemblance to Caesar so complete that there wouldn’t even be a Brutus left out. The latter, it must sadly be noted, were from the Royalist faction, and in their desire to kill the First Consul, they were not held back by the fear of endangering many innocent citizens.







      The police knew nothing of the plot of the 3d Nivôse for two reasons;
      first, because they were no parties to it, and secondly, because two
      conspirators do not betray and sell each other when they are resolute in
      their purpose. In such cases the giving of information can arise only from
      two causes, the one excusable, the other infamous, viz. the dread of
      punishment, and the hope of reward. But neither of these causes influenced
      the conspirators of the 3d Nivôse, the inventors and constructors of that
      machine which has so justly been denominated infernal!
    
The police were completely unaware of the plot on the 3rd Nivôse for two reasons; first, because they weren’t involved, and second, because two conspirators won’t betray each other when they’re committed to their goal. In such situations, sharing information can only come from two motives: one that’s understandable, the other disgraceful, namely, the fear of punishment, and the desire for a reward. But neither of these motives swayed the conspirators of the 3rd Nivôse, the creators of that device which has rightly been called infernal!







      On the 3d Nivôse (24th December 1800) the first performance of Haydn's
      magnificent oratorio of the "Creation" took place at the opera, and the
      First Consul had expressed his intention of being present. I did not dine
      with him that day, but as he left me he said, "Bourrienne, you know I am
      going to the opera to-night, and you may go too; but I cannot take you in
      the carriage, as Lannes, Berthier, and Lauriston are going with me." I was
      very glad of this, for I much wished to hear one of the masterpieces of
      the German school of composition. I got to the opera before Bonaparte, who
      on his entrance seated himself, according to custom, in front of the box.
      The eyes of all present were fixed upon him, and he appeared to be
      perfectly calm and self-possessed. Lauriston, as soon as he saw me, came
      to my box, and told me that the First Consul, on his way to the opera, had
      narrowly escaped being assassinated in the Rue St. Nicaise by the
      explosion of a barrel of gunpowder, the concussion of which had shattered
      the windows of his carriage. "Within ten seconds after our escape," added
      Lauriston, "the coachman having turned the corner of the Rue St Honore,
      stopped to take the First Consul's orders; and he coolly said, 'To the
      opera.'"
    
On the 3rd of Nivôse (December 24th, 1800), the first performance of Haydn's stunning oratorio "Creation" happened at the opera, and the First Consul had said he would be attending. I didn’t have dinner with him that day, but as he was leaving, he said, "Bourrienne, you know I’m going to the opera tonight, and you can come too; but I can’t take you in the carriage since Lannes, Berthier, and Lauriston are coming with me." I was really happy about this because I really wanted to hear one of the masterpieces of German composition. I arrived at the opera before Bonaparte, who, as usual, sat in the front of the box when he entered. Everyone’s eyes were on him, and he seemed completely calm and composed. As soon as Lauriston saw me, he came to my box and told me that on his way to the opera, the First Consul had just barely avoided assassination in Rue St. Nicaise due to the explosion of a gunpowder barrel, which had shattered the windows of his carriage. "Just ten seconds after we escaped," Lauriston added, "the coachman turned onto Rue St. Honoré, stopped to get the First Consul’s orders, and he coolly said, 'To the opera.'"






 —[The following particulars respecting the affair of the infernal
   machine are related by Rapp, who attended Madame Bonaparte to the
   opera. He differs from Bourrienne as to the total ignorance of the
   police:

   "The affair of the infernal machine has never been properly
   understood by the public. The police had intimated to Napoleon that
   an attempt would be made against his life and cautioned him not to
   go out. Madame Bonaparte, Mademoiselle Beauharnais, Madame Murat,
   Lannes, Bessières, the aide de camp on duty, Lieutenant Lebrun, now
   duke of Placenza were all assembled in the salon, while the First
   Consul was writing in his cabinet. Haydn's oratorio was to be
   performed that evening; the ladies were anxious to hear the music,
   and we also expressed a wish to that effect. The escort piquet was
   ordered out; and Lannes requested that Napoleon would join the
   party. He consented; his carriage was ready, and he took along with
   him Bessières and the aide de camp on duty. I was directed to
   attend the ladies. Josephine had received a magnificent shawl from
   Constantinople and she that evening wore it for the first time.
   'Permit me to observe,' said I, 'that your shawl is not thrown on
   with your usual elegance.' She good-humouredly begged that I would
   fold it after the fashion of the Egyptian ladies. While I was
   engaged in this operation we heard Napoleon depart. 'Come sister,'
   said Madame Murat, who was impatient to get to the theatre:
   'Bonaparte is going:' We stopped into the carriage: the First
   Consul's equipage had already reached the middle of the Place du
   Carrousel. We drove after it, but we had scarcely entered the place
   when the machine exploded. Napoleon escaped by a singular chance,
   St. Regent, or his servant Francois, had stationed himself in the
   middle of the Rue Nicaise. A grenadier of the escort, supposing he
   was really what he appeared to be, a water-carrier, gave him a few
   blows with the flat of his sabre and drove him off. The cart was
   turned round, and the machine exploded between the carriages of
   Napoleon and Josephine. The ladies shrieked on hearing the report;
   the carriage windows were broken, and Mademoiselle Beauharnais
   received a slight hurt on her hand. I alighted and crossed the Rue
   Nicaise which was strewed with the bodies of those who had been
   thrown down, and the fragments of the walls that had been shattered
   with the explosion. Neither the consul nor any individual of his
   suite sustained any serious injury. When I entered the theatre
   Napoleon was seated in his box; calm and composed, and looking at
   the audience through his opera-glass. Fouché was beside him.
   'Josephine' said he as soon as he observed me. She entered at that
   instant and he did not finish his question 'The rascals' said he
   very cooly, 'wanted to blow me up: Bring me a book of the oratorio'"
   (Memoirs of General Count Rape. P. 19)]— 
 [The following details about the infernal machine incident come from Rapp, who accompanied Madame Bonaparte to the opera. He disagrees with Bourrienne regarding the police's complete ignorance:

   "The infernal machine incident has never been fully understood by the public. The police had informed Napoleon that an attempt on his life would occur and advised him to stay in. Madame Bonaparte, Mademoiselle Beauharnais, Madame Murat, Lannes, Bessières, and Lieutenant Lebrun, who was on duty as aide de camp and is now the Duke of Placenza, were all gathered in the living room while the First Consul was writing in his office. Haydn's oratorio was scheduled for that evening; the ladies were eager to hear the music, and we expressed that we wanted to attend as well. The escort was called out, and Lannes asked Napoleon to join us. He agreed; his carriage was ready, and he took Bessières and the duty aide de camp with him. I was asked to stay with the ladies. Josephine had received an exquisite shawl from Constantinople, which she was wearing for the first time that night. 'May I point out,' I said, 'that your shawl isn't draped as elegantly as usual.' She playfully requested that I arrange it like the Egyptian ladies do. While I worked on this, we heard Napoleon leave. 'Come, sister,' said Madame Murat, eager to get to the theater: 'Bonaparte is leaving.' We got into the carriage just as the First Consul's carriage reached the center of the Place du Carrousel. We drove after him, but we had barely entered the square when the machine exploded. Napoleon escaped by a lucky chance; St. Regent, or his servant Francois, had positioned himself in the middle of the Rue Nicaise. A grenadier from the escort, thinking he was just a water-carrier, hit him a few times with the flat of his sword and pushed him away. The cart turned around, and the machine exploded between Napoleon's and Josephine's carriages. The ladies screamed when they heard the blast; the carriage windows shattered, and Mademoiselle Beauharnais got a minor injury on her hand. I got out and crossed the Rue Nicaise, which was covered with the bodies of those who had been knocked down and with debris from the buildings destroyed in the explosion. Neither the consul nor any member of his entourage was seriously hurt. When I entered the theater, Napoleon was sitting in his box, calm and collected, observing the audience through his opera glasses. Fouché was next to him. 'Josephine,' he said as soon as he spotted me. She walked in at that moment, and he didn’t finish his question. 'Those rascals,' he said coolly, 'tried to blow me up. Bring me a book of the oratorio.'" (Memoirs of General Count Rape. P. 19)] 







      On hearing this I left the theatre and returned to the Palace, under the
      expectation that I should speedily be wanted. Bonaparte soon returned
      home; and as intelligence of the affair had spread through Paris the grand
      salon on the ground-floor was filled with a crowd of functionaries, eager
      to read in the eye of their master what they were to think and say on the
      occasion. He did not keep them long in suspense. "This," exclaimed he
      vehemently, "is the work of the Jacobins: they have attempted my life....
      There are neither nobles, priests, nor Chouans in this affair!... I know
      what I am about, and they need not think to impose on me. These are the
      Septembrizers who have been in open revolt and conspiracy, and arrayed
      against every succeeding Government. It is scarce three months since my
      life was attempted by Uracchi, Arena; Topino-Lebrun, and Demerville. They
      all belong to one gang! The cutthroats of September, the assassins of
      Versailles, the brigands of the 81st of May, the conspirators of Prairial
      are the authors of all the crimes committed against established
      Governments! If they cannot be checked they must be crashed! France must
      be purged of these ruffians!" It is impossible to form any idea of the
      bitterness with which Bonaparte, pronounced these words. In vain did some
      of the Councillors of State, and Fouché in particular, endeavour to point
      out to him that there was no evidence against any one, and that before he
      pronounced people to be guilty it would be right to ascertain the fact.
      Bonaparte repeated with increased violence what he had before said of the
      Jacobins; thus adding; not without some ground of suspicion, one crime
      more to, the long catalogue for which they had already to answer.
    
Upon hearing this, I left the theater and went back to the Palace, expecting to be needed soon. Bonaparte returned home shortly after; as news of the incident spread throughout Paris, the main salon on the ground floor filled with officials eager to read their leader’s reaction and figure out what they should think and say. He didn’t keep them waiting long. “This,” he exclaimed passionately, “is the work of the Jacobins: they attempted to take my life.... There are no nobles, priests, or Chouans involved in this!... I know what I’m doing, and they shouldn’t think they can fool me. These are the Septembrizers who have been in open rebellion and conspiracy, opposing every government that has come along. Just three months ago, an attempt was made on my life by Uracchi, Arena, Topino-Lebrun, and Demerville. They’re all part of the same crew! The murderers of September, the assassins of Versailles, the thugs from May 81st, the conspirators of Prairial are responsible for all the crimes committed against established governments! If they can’t be stopped, they must be crushed! France needs to be cleansed of these criminals!” It’s hard to convey the bitterness with which Bonaparte said these words. Some of the State Councillors, especially Fouché, tried in vain to point out that there was no evidence against anyone, and that it would be wise to verify the facts before declaring anyone guilty. Bonaparte reiterated with even more force what he had previously said about the Jacobins, suspiciously adding yet another accusation to the long list they were already facing.







      Fouché had many enemies, and I was not, therefore, surprised to find some
      of the Ministers endeavouring to take advantage of the difference between
      his opinion and that of the First Consul; and it must be owned that the
      utter ignorance of the police respecting this event was a circumstance not
      very favourable to Fouché. He, however, was like the reed in the fable—he
      bent with the wind, but was soon erect again. The most skilful actor could
      scarcely imitate the inflexible calmness he maintained during Bonaparte's
      paroxysm of rage, and the patience with which he allowed himself to be
      accused.
    
Fouché had a lot of enemies, so I wasn’t surprised to see some of the Ministers trying to take advantage of the conflict between his views and the First Consul's. It’s true that the police's complete ignorance about this situation didn’t help Fouché at all. However, he was like the reed in the fable—he bent with the wind but quickly stood tall again. Even the best actor would find it hard to imitate the unwavering calm he displayed during Bonaparte's fits of rage and the patience he showed while being accused.







      Fouché, when afterwards conversing with me, gave me clearly to understand
      that he did not think the Jacobins guilty. I mentioned this to the First
      Consul, but nothing could make him retract his opinion. "Fouché," said he,
      "has good reason for his silence. He is serving his own party. It is very
      natural that he should seek to screen a set of men who are polluted with
      blood and crimes! He was one of their leaders. Do not I know what he did
      at Lyons and the Loire? That explains Fouché's conduct now!"
    
Fouché, when he talked to me later, made it clear that he didn’t think the Jacobins were guilty. I brought this up to the First Consul, but nothing would change his mind. "Fouché," he said, "has his reasons for keeping quiet. He’s looking out for his own party. It makes sense that he would want to protect a group of people stained with blood and crimes! He was one of their leaders. Don’t I know what he did in Lyons and the Loire? That’s exactly why Fouché is acting this way now!"







      This is the exact truth; and now let me contradict one of the thousand
      fictions about this event. It has been said and printed that "the
      dignitaries and the Ministers were assembled at the Tuileries. 'Well,'
      said the First Consul, advancing angrily towards Fouché, 'will you still
      say that this is the Royalist party?' Fouché, better informed than was
      believed, answered coolly, 'Yes, certainly, I shall say so; and, what is
      more, I shall prove it.' This speech caused general astonishment, but was
      afterwards fully borne out." This is pure invention. The First Consul only
      said to Fouché; "I do not trust to your police; I guard myself, and I
      watch till two in the morning." This however, was very rarely the case.
    
This is the exact truth; and now let me contradict one of the countless lies about this event. It has been said and published that "the dignitaries and the Ministers were gathered at the Tuileries. 'Well,' said the First Consul, moving angrily towards Fouché, 'are you still going to claim that this is the Royalist party?' Fouché, more informed than people realized, replied calmly, 'Yes, of course I will say that; and, what's more, I will prove it.' This remark caused widespread shock, but was later fully confirmed." This is total fabrication. The First Consul only said to Fouché, "I don't trust your police; I protect myself, and I watch until two in the morning." This, however, was very rarely the case.







      On the day after the explosion of the infernal machine a considerable
      concourse assembled at the Tuileries. There was absolutely a torrent of
      congratulations. The prefect of the Seine convoked the twelve mayors of
      Paris and came at their head to wait on the First Consul. In his reply to
      their address Bonaparte said, "As long as this gang of assassins confined
      their attacks to me personally I left the law to take its course; but
      since, by an unparalleled crime, they have endangered the lives of a
      portion of the population of Paris, their punishment must be as prompt as
      exemplary. A hundred of these wretches who have libeled liberty by
      perpetrating crimes in her name must be effectually prevented from
      renewing their atrocities." He then conversed with the Ministers, the
      Councillors of State, etc., on the event of the preceding day; and as all
      knew the First Consul's opinion of the authors of the crime each was eager
      to confirm it. The Council was several times assembled when the Senate was
      consulted, and the adroit Fouché, whose conscience yielded to the delicacy
      of his situation, addressed to the First Consul a report worthy of a
      Mazarin. At the same time the journals were filled with recollections of
      the Revolution, raked up for the purpose of connecting with past crimes
      the individuals on whom it was now wished to cast odium. It was decreed
      that a hundred persons should be banished; and the senate established its
      character for complaisance by passing a 'Senatus-consulte' conformable to
      the wishes of the First Consul.
    
The day after the explosion of the bomb, a large crowd gathered at the Tuileries. There was an overwhelming wave of congratulations. The prefect of the Seine called together the twelve mayors of Paris and led them to meet the First Consul. In response to their address, Bonaparte said, "As long as this group of assassins focused their attacks on me personally, I allowed the law to take its course; but now, since they’ve committed an unprecedented crime that has put the lives of some Paris residents at risk, their punishment must be swift and exemplary. A hundred of these scoundrels, who have tarnished the idea of liberty by committing crimes in her name, must be effectively prevented from repeating their atrocities." He then discussed the events of the previous day with the Ministers, Councillors of State, and others; knowing the First Consul's stance on the criminals, everyone was eager to support it. The Council met several times, and when the Senate was consulted, the cunning Fouché, whose conscience was troubled by his situation, presented a report to the First Consul that was worthy of a Mazarin. Meanwhile, newspapers were filled with reminders of the Revolution, dredged up to associate past crimes with those individuals now intended to bear the blame. It was decided that a hundred people should be exiled; and the Senate demonstrated its willingness to comply by passing a 'Senatus-consulte' in line with the First Consul's wishes.







      A list was drawn up of the persons styled Jacobins, who were condemned to
      transportation. I was fortunate enough to obtain the erasure of the names
      of several whose opinions had perhaps been violent, but whose education
      and private character presented claims to recommendation. Some of my
      readers may probably recollect them without my naming them, and I shall
      only mention M. Tissot, for the purpose of recording, not the service I
      rendered him, but an instance of grateful acknowledgment.
    
A list was created of the people called Jacobins who were sentenced to exile. I was lucky enough to get the names of several individuals removed, whose views might have been extreme, but whose education and personal character warranted consideration. Some of my readers might remember them without me having to mention them, and I will only bring up M. Tissot to note, not the help I provided him, but an example of gratitude he showed.







      When in 1815 Napoleon was on the point of entering Paris M. Tissot came to
      the prefecture of police, where I then was, and offered me his house as a
      safe asylum; assuring me I should there run no risk of being discovered.
      Though I did not accept the offer yet I gladly seize on this opportunity
      of making it known. It is gratifying to find that difference of political
      opinion does not always exclude sentiments of generosity and honour! I
      shall never forget the way in which the author of the essays on Virgil
      uttered the words 'Domus mea'.
    
When Napoleon was about to enter Paris in 1815, M. Tissot came to the police prefecture where I was at the time and offered me his house as a safe place to stay, assuring me that I wouldn't be at risk of being found. Although I didn’t take him up on the offer, I’m glad to share this now. It’s comforting to see that differing political views don’t always mean a lack of generosity and honor! I will never forget how the author of the essays on Virgil said the words "Domus mea."







      But to return to the fatal list. Even while I write this I shudder to
      think of the way in which men utterly innocent were accused of a revolting
      crime without even the shadow of a proof. The name of an individual, his
      opinions, perhaps only assumed, were sufficient grounds for his
      banishment. A decree of the Consuls, dated 4th of January 1801, confirmed
      by a 'Senates-consulte' on the next day, banished from the territory of
      the Republic, and placed under special inspectors, 130 individuals, nine
      of whom were merely designated in the report as Septembrizers.
    
But to get back to the tragic list. Even as I write this, I’m horrified to think about how completely innocent men were accused of a disgusting crime without any evidence at all. The name of a person, along with their opinions—often just assumed—was enough to justify their banishment. A decree from the Consuls, dated January 4, 1801, confirmed by a Senate consultation the next day, exiled 130 individuals from the Republic, placing them under special surveillance; nine of whom were only referred to in the report as Septembrizers.







      The exiles, who in the reports and in the public acts were so unjustly
      accused of being the authors of the infernal machine, were received at
      Nantes, with so much indignation that the military were compelled to
      interfere to save them from being massacred.
    
The exiles, who were so unfairly accused in the reports and public records of being responsible for the hellish machine, were met with such outrage in Nantes that the military had to step in to protect them from being killed.







      In the discussions which preceded the decree of the Consuls few persons
      had the courage to express a doubt respecting the guilt of the accused.
      Truguet was the first to mount the breach. He observed that without
      denying the Government the extraordinary means for getting rid of its
      enemies he could not but acknowledge that the emigrants threatened the
      purchasers of national domains, that the public mind was corrupted by
      pamphlets, and that—Here the First Consul, interrupting him,
      exclaimed, "To what pamphlets do you allude?"—"To pamphlets which
      are publicly circulated."—"Name them!"—"You know them as well
      as I do."
    
In the discussions leading up to the Consuls' decree, very few people had the guts to question the guilt of the accused. Truguet was the first to speak up. He said that while he didn’t deny the government’s right to use extreme measures against its enemies, he had to point out that the emigrants were a threat to those who bought national land, that the public was being misled by pamphlets, and that—At this point, the First Consul interrupted him, saying, "Which pamphlets are you talking about?"—"Pamphlets that are being circulated openly."—"Name them!"—"You know them just as well as I do."






 —[The Parallel between Caesar, Cromwell, and Bonaparte, of which I
   shall speak a little farther on, is here alluded to.—Bourrienne.]— 
 —[The comparison between Caesar, Cromwell, and Bonaparte, which I will discuss further on, is referenced here.—Bourrienne.]—







      After a long and angry ebullition the First Consul abruptly dismissed the
      Council. He observed that he would not be duped; that the villains were
      known; that they were Septembrizers, the hatchers of every mischief. He
      had said at a sitting three days before, "If proof should fail, we must
      take advantage of the public excitement. The event is to me merely the
      opportunity. They shall be banished for the 2d September, for the 31st
      May, for Baboeuf's conspiracy—or anything else."
    
After a long and furious outburst, the First Consul abruptly dismissed the Council. He noted that he wouldn’t be fooled; he knew who the culprits were—they were the Septembrizers, the instigators of all trouble. He had stated at a meeting three days earlier, "If we can’t find proof, we need to take advantage of the public’s outrage. To me, this event is just an opportunity. They’ll be exiled for the 2nd of September, for the 31st of May, for Baboeuf’s conspiracy—or anything else."







      On leaving one of the sittings of the Council, at which the question of a
      special tribunal had been discussed, he told me that he had been a little
      ruffled; that he had said a violent blow must be struck; that blood must
      be spilt; and that as many of the guilty should be shot as there had been
      victims of the explosion (from fifteen to twenty); that 200 should be
      banished, and the Republic purged of these scoundrels.
    
After leaving one of the council meetings where they discussed setting up a special tribunal, he told me he felt a bit shaken. He mentioned that he had insisted a strong action needed to be taken, that blood needed to be shed, and that as many of the guilty should be executed as there had been victims of the explosion (between fifteen and twenty). He also said that 200 people should be exiled and that the Republic should be rid of these villains.







      The arbitrariness and illegality of the proceeding were so evident that
      the 'Senatus-consulte' contained no mention of the transactions of the 3d
      Nivôse, which was very remarkable. It was, however, declared that the
      measure of the previous day had been adopted with a view to the
      preservation of the Constitution. This was promising.
    
The randomness and unlawfulness of the process were so obvious that the 'Senatus-consulte' didn't mention the events of the 3rd Nivôse, which was quite striking. However, it was stated that the action taken the day before was aimed at protecting the Constitution. This was encouraging.







      The First Consul manifested the most violent hatred of the Jacobins; for
      this he could not have been blamed if under the title of Jacobins he had
      not comprised every devoted advocate of public liberty. Their opposition
      annoyed him and he could never pardon them for having presumed to condemn
      his tyrannical acts, and to resist the destruction of the freedom which he
      had himself sworn to defend, but which he was incessantly labouring to
      overturn. These were the true motives of his conduct; and, conscious of
      his own faults, he regarded with dislike those who saw and disapproved of
      them. For this reason he was more afraid of those whom he called Jacobins
      than of the Royalists.
    
The First Consul showed intense hatred towards the Jacobins; he wouldn’t have been criticized for this if he hadn’t included every true supporter of public liberty under the term Jacobins. Their resistance irritated him, and he could never forgive them for daring to condemn his oppressive actions and for fighting against the freedom he had sworn to protect, even as he constantly worked to dismantle it. These were the real reasons for his behavior; and aware of his own shortcomings, he disliked those who recognized and disapproved of them. That’s why he feared those he called Jacobins more than the Royalists.







      I am here recording the faults of Bonaparte, but I excuse him; situated as
      he was, any other person would have acted in the same way. Truth now
      reached him with difficulty, and when it was not agreeable he had no
      disposition to hear it. He was surrounded by flatterers; and, the greater
      number of those who approached him, far from telling him what they really
      thought; only repeated what he had himself been thinking. Hence he admired
      the wisdom of his Counsellors. Thus Fouché, to maintain himself in favour,
      was obliged to deliver up to his master 130 names chosen from among his
      own most intimate friends as objects of proscription.
    
I’m here to point out Bonaparte’s faults, but I can’t blame him; given his situation, anyone else would have acted the same way. He had a hard time getting the truth, and when it was unpleasant, he wasn’t willing to hear it. He was surrounded by yes-men; most people around him didn’t share their real thoughts but just echoed what he already believed. That’s why he admired the wisdom of his advisors. For instance, Fouché, to stay in his good graces, had to hand over 130 names from among his closest friends for exclusion.







      Meanwhile Fouché, still believing that he was not deceived as to the real
      authors of the attempt of the 3d Nivôse, set in motion with his usual
      dexterity all the springs of the police. His efforts, however, were for
      sometime unsuccessful; but at length on Saturday, the 31st January 1801,
      about two hours after our arrival at Malmaison, Fouché presented himself
      and produced authentic proofs of the accuracy of his conjectures. There
      was no longer any doubt on the subject; and Bonaparte saw clearly that the
      attempt of the 3d Nivôse was the result of a plot hatched by the partisans
      of royalty. But as the act of proscription against those who were jumbled
      together under the title of the Jacobins had been executed, it was not to
      be revoked.
    
Meanwhile, Fouché, still convinced that he wasn't mistaken about the real authors of the attempt on the 3rd of Nivôse, activated all the elements of the police with his usual skill. However, his efforts were unsuccessful for some time; but eventually, on Saturday, January 31, 1801, about two hours after we arrived at Malmaison, Fouché showed up and provided authentic evidence that confirmed his suspicions. There was no longer any doubt about it; Bonaparte realized that the attempt on the 3rd of Nivôse was part of a plot orchestrated by royalists. However, since the action against those grouped under the name of Jacobins had already been carried out, it could not be reversed.







      Thus the consequence of the 3d Nivôse was that both the innocent and
      guilty were punished; with this difference, however, that the guilty at
      least had the benefit of a trial.
    
Thus the result of the 3rd Nivôse was that both the innocent and guilty were punished; with this difference, though, that the guilty at least had the benefit of a trial.







      When the Jacobins, as they were called, were accused with such
      precipitation, Fouché had no positive proofs of their innocence; and
      therefore their illegal condemnation ought not to be attributed to him.
      Sufficient odium is attached to his memory without his being charged with
      a crime he never committed. Still, I must say that had he boldly opposed
      the opinion of Bonaparte in the first burst of his fury he might have
      averted the blow. Every time he came to the Tuileries, even before he had
      acquired any traces of the truth, Fouché always declared to me his
      conviction of the innocence of the persons first accused. But he was
      afraid to make the same observation to Bonaparte. I often mentioned to him
      the opinion of the Minister of Police; but as proof was wanting he replied
      to me with a triumphant air, "Bah! bah! This is always the way with
      Fouché. Besides, it is of little consequence. At any rate we shall get rid
      of them. Should the guilty be discovered among the Royalists they also
      shall be punished."
    
When the Jacobins, as they were called, were accused so hastily, Fouché didn't have any solid proof of their innocence; so their wrongful condemnation shouldn't be blamed on him. There’s already enough negativity associated with his name without adding a crime he didn’t commit. However, I must say that if he had boldly opposed Bonaparte’s opinion during his initial rage, he might have been able to prevent the fallout. Every time he visited the Tuileries, even before he had any real understanding of the situation, Fouché always expressed to me his belief in the innocence of the initial accused. But he was too afraid to say the same to Bonaparte. I often brought up the views of the Minister of Police to him; but since there was no evidence, he would respond with a smug tone, “Bah! bah! This is always how it is with Fouché. Besides, it doesn’t really matter. In any case, we’ll get rid of them. If any guilt is found among the Royalists, they’ll be punished too.”







      The real criminals being at length discovered through the researches of
      Fouché, St. Regent and Carbon expiated their crimes by the forfeit of
      their heads. Thus the First Consul gained his point, and justice gained
      hers.
    
The real criminals were eventually uncovered through the investigations of Fouché, St. Regent, and Carbon, who paid for their crimes with their lives. In this way, the First Consul achieved his goal, and justice was served.






 —[It was St. Regent, or St. Rejeant, who fired the infernal
   machine. The violence of the shock flung him against a post and
   part of his breast bone was driven in. He was obliged to resort to
   a surgeon, and it would seem that this man denounced him. (Memoirs
   of Miot de Melito, tome i. p. 264).

   The discussions which took place in the Council of State on this
   affair are remarkable, both for the violence of Napoleon and for the
   resistance made in the Council, to a great extent successfully, to
   his views as to the plot being one of the Jacobin party.]— 
 —[It was St. Regent, or St. Rejeant, who set off the explosive device. The force of the blast threw him against a post, causing part of his breastbone to collapse. He had to seek medical help, and it seems this doctor turned him in. (Memoirs of Miot de Melito, tome i. p. 264).

   The debates that occurred in the Council of State regarding this incident are noteworthy, both for Napoleon's fury and for the significant resistance, which was largely effective, that the Council put up against his claims that the plot was orchestrated by the Jacobins.]—







      I have often had occasion to notice the multifarious means employed by
      Bonaparte to arrive at the possession of supreme power, and to prepare
      men's minds for so great change. Those who have observed his life must
      have so remarked how entirely he was convinced of the truth that public
      opinion wastes itself on the rumour of a project and possesses no energy
      at the moment of its execution. In order, therefore, to direct public
      attention to the question of hereditary power a pamphlet was circulated
      about Paris, and the following is the history of it:—
    
I have often noticed the various methods Bonaparte used to gain supreme power and to prepare people for such a big change. Anyone who has followed his life must have seen how fully he believed that public opinion fizzles out with mere rumors and has no impact when it comes time to act. So, to shift public focus to the issue of hereditary power, a pamphlet was distributed throughout Paris, and here’s the story of it:—







      In the month of December 1800, while Fouché was searching after the real
      authors of the attempt of the 3d Nivôse, a small pamphlet, entitled
      "Parallel between Caesar, Cromwell, and Bonaparte," was sent to the First
      Consul. He was absent when it came. I read it, and perceived that it
      openly advocated hereditary monarchy. I then knew nothing about the origin
      of this pamphlet, but I soon learned that it issued from the office of the
      Minister of the Interior [Lucien Bonaparte], and that it had been largely
      circulated. After reading it I laid it on the table. In a few minutes
      Bonaparte entered, and taking up the pamphlet pretended to look through
      it: "Have you read this?" said he.—"Yes, General."— "Well!
      what is your opinion of it?"—"I think it is calculated to produce an
      unfavourable effect on the public mind: it is ill-timed, for it
      prematurely reveals your views." The First Consul took the pamphlet and
      threw it on the ground, as he did all the stupid publications of the day
      after having slightly glanced over them. I was not singular in my opinion
      of the pamphlet, for next day the prefects in the immediate neighbourhood
      of Paris sent a copy of it to the First Consul, complaining of its
      mischievous effect; and I recollect that in one of their letters it was
      stated that such a work was calculated to direct against him the poniards
      of new assassins. After reading this correspondence he said to me,
      "Bourrienne, send for Fouché; he must come directly, and give an account
      of this matter." In half an hour Fouché was in the First Consul's cabinet.
      No sooner had he entered than the following dialogue took place, in which
      the impetuous warmth of the one party was strangely contrasted with the
      phlegmatic and rather sardonic composure of the other.
    
In December 1800, while Fouché was investigating the real authors behind the attempt on the 3rd Nivôse, a small pamphlet titled "Parallel between Caesar, Cromwell, and Bonaparte" was sent to the First Consul. He was away when it arrived. I read it and noticed that it openly supported hereditary monarchy. At that time, I knew nothing about the pamphlet's origin, but I soon found out that it came from the office of the Minister of the Interior [Lucien Bonaparte] and had been widely circulated. After reading it, I placed it on the table. A few minutes later, Bonaparte entered, picked up the pamphlet, and pretended to look through it: "Have you read this?" he asked. — "Yes, General." — "Well! What do you think?" — "I believe it will have a negative impact on public opinion; it’s poorly timed, as it reveals your views too early." The First Consul took the pamphlet and tossed it on the floor, just like he did with all the foolish publications of the day after barely glancing at them. I wasn't alone in my opinion about the pamphlet; the next day, the prefects near Paris sent a copy to the First Consul, complaining about its harmful effect. I remember that one of their letters stated that such a work could incite new assassins against him. After reading this correspondence, he said to me, "Bourrienne, call Fouché; he needs to come immediately and explain this situation." Half an hour later, Fouché was in the First Consul's office. As soon as he entered, the following dialogue took place, in which one party's fiery intensity was in stark contrast to the other party's calm and somewhat sardonic demeanor.







      "What pamphlet is this? What is said about it in Paris?"—"General,
      there is but one opinion of its dangerous tendency."—"Well, then,
      why did you allow it to appear?"—"General, I was obliged to show
      some consideration for the author!"—"Consideration for the author!
      What do you mean? You should have sent him to the temple."—"But,
      General, your brother Lucien patronises this pamphlet. It has been printed
      and published by his order. In short, it comes from the office of the
      Minister of the Interior."—"No matter for that! Your duty as
      Minister of Police was to have arrested Lucien, and sent him to the
      Temple. The fool does nothing but contrive how he can commit me!"
    
"What pamphlet is this? What are they saying about it in Paris?"—"General, everyone thinks its message is dangerous."—"Then why did you let it be published?"—"General, I had to consider the author!"—"Consider the author! What do you mean? You should have locked him up."—"But, General, your brother Lucien supports this pamphlet. It's been printed and published under his orders. In short, it came from the Minister of the Interior's office."—"That’s beside the point! Your job as Minister of Police was to arrest Lucien and send him to the Temple. The idiot does nothing but figure out how to get me in trouble!"







      With these words the First Consul left the cabinet, shutting the door
      violently behind him. Being now alone with Fouché, I was eager to get an
      explanation of the suppressed smile which had more than once curled his
      lips during Bonaparte's angry expostulation. I easily perceived that there
      was something in reserve. "Send the author to the Temple!" said Fouché;
      "that would be no easy matter! Alarmed at the effect which this parallel
      between Caesar, Cromwell, and Bonaparte was likely to produce, I went to
      Lucien to point out to him his imprudence. He made me no answer, but went
      and got a manuscript, which he showed me, and which contained corrections
      and annotations in the First Consul's handwriting."
    
With that, the First Consul left the room, slamming the door behind him. Now alone with Fouché, I was eager to understand the suppressed smile that had repeatedly appeared on his lips during Bonaparte's angry outburst. I could tell there was something he was holding back. "Send the author to the Temple!" Fouché exclaimed; "that wouldn’t be easy!" Concerned about the impact of this comparison between Caesar, Cromwell, and Bonaparte, I approached Lucien to point out his recklessness. He didn't respond but went to get a manuscript, which he showed me, containing corrections and notes in the First Consul's handwriting.







      When Lucien heard how Bonaparte had expressed his displeasure at the
      pamphlet, he also came to the Tuileries to reproach his brother with
      having thrust him forward and then abandoned him. "'Tis your own fault,"
      said the First Consul. "You have allowed yourself to be caught! So much
      the worse for you! Fouché is too cunning for you! You are a mere fool
      compared with him!" Lucien tendered his resignation, which was accepted,
      and he departed for Spain. This diplomatic mission turned to his
      advantage. It was necessary that one should veil the Machiavellian
      invention of the 'Parallel.'
    
When Lucien heard how Bonaparte had shown his frustration with the pamphlet, he went to the Tuileries to confront his brother for putting him in the spotlight and then leaving him to deal with the fallout. "'It’s your own fault," said the First Consul. "You let yourself get caught! That’s on you! Fouché is too clever for you! You're just a fool compared to him!" Lucien submitted his resignation, which was accepted, and he left for Spain. This diplomatic mission worked in his favor. It was necessary to conceal the Machiavellian scheme behind the 'Parallel.'






 —[The 'Parallel' has been attributed to different writers; some
   phrases seemed the work of Lucien, but, says Thiers (tome ii p.
   210), its rare elegance of language and its classical knowledge of
   history should attribute it to its real anchor, Fontanel, Joseph
   Bonaparte (Erreurs tome i. p. 270) says that Fontanel wrote it, and
   Lucien Bonaparte corrected it. See Meneval, tome iii. p. 105.
   Whoever wrote it Napoleon certainly planned its issue. "It was,"
   said he to Roederer, "a work of which he himself had given the idea,
   but the last pages were by a fool" (Miot, tome i, p. 318). See also
   Lanfrey, tome ii. p. 208; and compare the story in Iung's Lucien,
   tome ii. p. 490. Miot, then in the confidence of Joseph, says,
   that Lucien's removal from, office was the result of an angry
   quarrel between him and Fouché in the presence of Napoleon, when
   Fouché attacked Lucien, not only for the pamphlet, but also for the
   disorder of his public and his private life; but Miot (tome i, p,
   319) places the date of this as the 3d November, while Bourrienne
   dates the disapproval of the pamphlet in December.]— 
 —[The 'Parallel' has been credited to different writers; some phrases seem to be by Lucien, but Thiers (volume ii, p. 210) argues that its rare elegance and classical understanding of history should be attributed to its true author, Fontanel. Joseph Bonaparte (Erreurs volume i, p. 270) states that Fontanel wrote it, while Lucien Bonaparte edited it. See Meneval, volume iii, p. 105. No matter who wrote it, Napoleon definitely planned its release. "It was," he told Roederer, "a work that he himself had inspired, but the last pages were by an idiot" (Miot, volume i, p. 318). See also Lanfrey, volume ii, p. 208; and compare the account in Iung's Lucien, volume ii, p. 490. Miot, who was trusted by Joseph at the time, says that Lucien's removal from office resulted from an argument between him and Fouché in front of Napoleon, where Fouché criticized Lucien not just for the pamphlet, but also for the chaos in his public and private life; however, Miot (volume i, p. 319) places this incident on November 3rd, while Bourrienne records the disapproval of the pamphlet as occurring in December.]—







      Lucien, among other instructions, was directed to use all his endeavours
      to induce Spain to declare against Portugal in order to compel that power
      to separate herself from England.
    
Lucien, along with other instructions, was told to do everything he could to get Spain to take a stand against Portugal to force that country to distance itself from England.







      The First Consul had always regarded Portugal as an English colony, and he
      conceived that to attack it was to assail England. He wished that Portugal
      should no longer favour England in her commercial relations, but that,
      like Spain, she should become dependent on him. Lucien was therefore sent
      as ambassador to Madrid, to second the Ministers of Charles IV. in
      prevailing on the King to invade Portugal. The King declared war, but it
      was not of long duration, and terminated almost without a blow being
      struck, by the taking of Olivenza. On the 6th of June 1801 Portugal signed
      the treaty of Badajoz, by which she promised to cede Olivenza, Almeida,
      and some other fortresses to Spain, and to close her ports against
      England. The First Consul, who was dissatisfied with the treaty, at first
      refused to ratify it. He still kept his army in Spain, and this proceeding
      determined Portugal to accede to some slight alterations in the first
      treaty. This business proved very advantageous to Lucien and Godoy.
    
The First Consul always saw Portugal as an English colony and believed that attacking it was basically attacking England. He wanted Portugal to stop supporting England in its trade and become dependent on him, similar to Spain. So, Lucien was sent as an ambassador to Madrid to help the ministers of Charles IV persuade the King to invade Portugal. The King declared war, but it didn’t last long and ended almost without any fighting, with the capture of Olivenza. On June 6, 1801, Portugal signed the treaty of Badajoz, agreeing to hand over Olivenza, Almeida, and several other fortresses to Spain, and to close its ports to England. The First Consul, unhappy with the treaty, initially refused to approve it. He kept his army in Spain, which led Portugal to agree to a few minor changes in the original treaty. This situation turned out to be very beneficial for Lucien and Godoy.







      The cabinet of the Tuileries was not the only place in which the question
      of hereditary succession was discussed. It was the constant subject of
      conversation in the salons of Paris, where a new dynasty was already
      spoken of. This was by no means displeasing to the First Consul; but he
      saw clearly that he had committed a mistake in agitating the question
      prematurely; for this reason he waged war against the Parallel, as he
      would not be suspected of having had any share in a design that had
      failed. One day he said to me, "I believe I have been a little too
      precipitate. The pear is not quite ripe!" The Consulate for life was
      accordingly postponed till 1802, and the hereditary empire till 1804.
    
The cabinet at the Tuileries wasn’t the only place where discussions about hereditary succession took place. It was a hot topic in the salons of Paris, where people were already talking about a new dynasty. This didn’t bother the First Consul at all; however, he realized that he had made a mistake by bringing up the issue too soon. For this reason, he fought against the Parallel, wanting to distance himself from a plan that had failed. One day he told me, "I think I might have rushed things a bit. The pear isn't quite ripe!" So, the Consulate for life was pushed back to 1802, and the hereditary empire to 1804.







      After the failure of the artful publication of the pamphlet Fouché invited
      me to dine with him. As the First Consul wished me to dine out as seldom
      as possible, I informed him of the invitation I had received. He was,
      however, aware of it before, and he very readily gave me leave to go. At
      dinner Joseph was placed on the right of Fouché, and I next to Joseph, who
      talked of nothing but his brother, his designs, the pamphlet, and the bad
      effect produced by it. In all that fell from him there was a tone of blame
      and disapproval. I told him my opinion, but with greater reserve than I
      had used towards his brother. He seemed to approve of what I said; his
      confidence encouraged me, and I saw with pleasure that he entertained
      sentiments entirely similar to my own. His unreserved manner so imposed
      upon me that, notwithstanding the experience I had acquired, I was far
      from suspecting myself to be in the company of a spy. Next day the First
      Consul said to me very coldly, "Leave my letters in the basket, I will
      open them myself." This unexpected direction surprised me exceedingly, and
      I determined to play him a trick in revenge for his unfounded distrust.
      For three mornings I laid at the bottom of the basket all the letters
      which I knew came from the Ministers, and all the reports which were
      addressed to me for the First Consul. I then covered them over with those
      which; judging from their envelopes and seals, appeared to be of that
      trifling kind with which the First Consul was daily overwhelmed: these
      usually consisted of requests that he would name the number of a lottery
      ticket, so, that the writer might have the benefit of his good luck—solicitations
      that he would stand godfather to a child—petitions for places—announcements
      of marriages and births—absurd eulogies, etc. Unaccustomed to open
      the letters, he became impatient at their number, and he opened very few.
      Often on the same day, but always on the morrow, came a fresh letter from
      a Minister, who asked for an answer to his former one, and who complained
      of not having received one. The First Consul unsealed some twenty letters
      and left the rest.
    
After the failed release of the pamphlet, Fouché invited me to dinner. Since the First Consul wanted me to dine out as little as possible, I told him about the invitation I received. He already knew about it and readily allowed me to go. At dinner, Joseph sat to Fouché's right, and I sat next to Joseph, who talked only about his brother, his plans, the pamphlet, and its negative impact. Everything he said carried a tone of blame and disapproval. I shared my thoughts, but I was more reserved than I had been with his brother. He seemed to agree with me; his confidence encouraged me, and I was pleased to see that he shared my views. His candid manner impressed me so much that, despite my experience, I didn’t suspect I was in the company of a spy. The next day, the First Consul told me coldly, "Leave my letters in the basket; I will open them myself." This unexpected command surprised me greatly, and I decided to play a trick on him for his unfounded distrust. For three mornings, I placed all the letters I knew came from the Ministers and any reports addressed to me for the First Consul at the bottom of the basket. I then covered them with letters that looked trivial based on their envelopes and seals; these were the sorts of requests he received daily. They mostly included people asking for him to pick a lottery ticket number so they might benefit from his luck—requests for him to be a godfather—job applications—announcements of weddings and births—absurd praises, etc. Not used to opening letters, he became frustrated by the number and opened very few. Often that same day, but always the next, a new letter from a Minister would arrive, asking for a reply to their previous message and complaining about not receiving one. The First Consul unsealed about twenty letters and left the rest.







      The opening of all these letters, which he was not at other times in the
      habit of looking at, annoyed him extremely; but as I neither wished to
      carry the joke too far, nor to remain in the disagreeable position in
      which Joseph's treachery had placed me, I determined to bring the matter
      to a conclusion. After the third day, when the business of the night,
      which had been interrupted by little fits of ill-humour, was concluded,
      Bonaparte retired to bed. Half an hour after I went to his chamber, to
      which I was admitted at all hours. I had a candle in my hand, and, taking
      a chair, I sat down on the right side of the bed, and placed the candle on
      the table. Both he and Josephine awoke. "What is the matter?" he asked
      with surprise. "General, I have come to tell you that I can no longer
      remain here, since I have lost your confidence. You know how sincerely I
      am devoted to you; if you have, then, anything to reproach me with, let me
      at least know it, for my situation during the last three days has been
      very painful."—"What has Bourrienne done?" inquired Josephine
      earnestly.—"That does not concern you," he replied. Then turning to
      me he said, "'Tis true, I have cause to complain of you. I have been
      informed that you have spoken of important affairs in a very indiscreet
      manner."—"I can assure you that I spoke to none but your brother. It
      was he who led me into the conversation, and he was too well versed in the
      business for me to tell him any secret. He may have reported to you what
      he pleased, but could not I do the same by him? I could accuse and betray
      him as he has accused and betrayed me. When I spoke in confidence to your
      brother, could I regard him as an inquisitor?"—"I must confess,"
      replied Bonaparte, "that after what I heard from Joseph I thought it right
      to put my confidence in quarantine."—"The quarantine has lasted
      three days, General; surely that is long enough."—"Well, Bourrienne,
      let us say no more about it. Open my letters as usual; you will find the
      answers a good deal in arrear, which has much vexed me; and besides, I was
      always stumbling on some stupid nonsense or other!"
    
Opening all these letters, which he usually didn't look at, really annoyed him. But since I didn’t want to take the joke too far or stay in the uncomfortable situation Joseph’s betrayal had put me in, I decided to wrap things up. After three days, when the night’s business—interrupted by some grumpy moments—was finally over, Bonaparte went to bed. Half an hour later, I went to his room, which I could enter at any time. I had a candle in my hand, and after sitting down on the right side of the bed, I placed the candle on the table. Both he and Josephine woke up. “What’s going on?” he asked, surprised. “General, I’ve come to tell you that I can’t stay here any longer since I’ve lost your trust. You know how sincerely I’m devoted to you; so if you have anything to blame me for, please let me know because these last three days have been very painful for me.” “What did Bourrienne do?” Josephine asked earnestly. “That’s not your concern,” he replied. Then, turning to me, he said, “It’s true, I have reason to complain about you. I’ve been told that you spoke about important matters in a very careless way.” “I assure you I only spoke with your brother. He led me into the conversation and knew too much about the matter for me to tell him any secrets. He may have reported whatever he wanted to you, but couldn’t I do the same to him? I could accuse and betray him just as he has accused and betrayed me. When I spoke in confidence to your brother, how could I see him as an interrogator?” “I have to admit,” Bonaparte replied, “that after what I heard from Joseph, I thought it was best to keep my trust on hold.” “The hold has lasted three days, General; surely that’s long enough.” “Well, Bourrienne, let’s not talk about it anymore. Open my letters as usual; you’ll find many overdue responses that have bothered me a lot, and besides, I kept stumbling over some silly nonsense!”







      I fancy I still see and hear the amiable Josephine sitting up in bed and
      saying, in her gentle way, "What! Bonaparte, is it possible you could
      suspect Bourrienne, who is so attached to you, and who is your only
      friend? How could you suffer such a snare to be laid for him? What! a
      dinner got up on purpose! How I hate these odious police manoeuvres!"—"Go
      to sleep," said Bonaparte; "let women mind their gewgaws, and not
      interfere with politics." It was near two in the morning before I retired.
    
I think I can still see and hear the lovely Josephine sitting up in bed and saying, in her gentle way, "What! Bonaparte, could you really suspect Bourrienne, who is so loyal to you and your only friend? How could you let such a trap be set for him? What! A dinner arranged just for this! How I detest these disgusting police tactics!"—"Go to sleep," said Bonaparte; "let women focus on their trivialities and not get involved in politics." It was nearly two in the morning before I went to bed.







      When, after a few hours' sleep, I again saw the First Consul, he was more
      kind to me than ever, and I perceived that for the present every cloud had
      dispersed.'
    
When I saw the First Consul again after a few hours of sleep, he was kinder to me than ever, and I realized that for the moment, every worry had faded away.






 —[Joseph Bonaparte (Erreurs, tome i. p. 273) says what he
   reported to his brother was Bourrienne's conversation to him in the
   First Consul's cabinet during Napoleon's absence. It is curious
   that at the only time when Napoleon became dissatisfied with Meneval
   (Bourrienne's successor), and ordered him not to open the letters,
   he used the same expression when returning to the usual order of
   business, which in this case was to a few hours. "My dear Meneval,"
   said he, "there are circumstances in which I am forced to put my
   confidence in quarantine." (Meneval, tome i. p. 123). For any one
   who has had to manage an office it is pleasant to find that even
   Napoleon was much dependent on a good secretary. In an illness of
   his secretary he said, showing the encumbrance of his desk, "with
   Meneval I should soon clear off all that." (Meneval, tome i. p. 151.)]

—[Joseph Bonaparte (Erreurs, vol. i. p. 273) mentions that what he reported to his brother was Bourrienne's conversation with him in the First Consul's office during Napoleon's absence. It's interesting that the only time Napoleon became unhappy with Meneval (Bourrienne's replacement) and told him not to open the letters, he used the same phrase when returning to the usual business, which in this case lasted just a few hours. "My dear Meneval," he said, "there are circumstances in which I must put my trust in quarantine." (Meneval, vol. i. p. 123). For anyone who has had to run an office, it's nice to see that even Napoleon relied heavily on a good secretary. During his secretary's illness, he remarked, pointing at the clutter on his desk, "with Meneval I would quickly clear all this." (Meneval, vol. i. p. 151.)]








 


 




















      CHAPTER IV.
    



      1800-1801
    
1800-1801


   Austria bribed by England—M. de St. Julien in Paris—Duroc's
   mission—Rupture of the armistice—Surrender of three garrisons—
   M. Otto in London—Battle of Hohenlinden—Madame Moreau and Madame
   Hulot—Bonaparte's ill-treatment of the latter—Congress of
   Luneville—General Clarke—M. Maret—Peace between France and
   Austria—Joseph Bonaparte's speculations in the funds—
   M. de Talleyrand's advice—Post-office regulation—Cambacérès—
   Importance of good dinners in the affairs of Government—Steamboats
   and intriguers—Death of Paul I.—New thoughts of the
   reestablishment of Poland—Duroc at St. Petersburg—Bribe rejected—
   Death of Abercromby.

Austria bribed by England—M. de St. Julien in Paris—Duroc's mission—Breakdown of the armistice—Surrender of three garrisons—M. Otto in London—Battle of Hohenlinden—Madame Moreau and Madame Hulot—Bonaparte's mistreatment of the latter—Congress of Luneville—General Clarke—M. Maret—Peace between France and Austria—Joseph Bonaparte's investments in the stocks—M. de Talleyrand's advice—Post-office regulation—Cambacérès—Importance of good dinners in government affairs—Steamboats and schemers—Death of Paul I.—New ideas about reestablishing Poland—Duroc in St. Petersburg—Bribe refused—Death of Abercromby.







      The armistice concluded after the battle of Marengo, which had been first
      broken and then resumed, continued to be observed for some time between
      the armies of the Rhine and Italy and the Imperial armies. But Austria,
      bribed by a subsidy of 2,000,000 sterling, would not treat for peace
      without the participation of England. She did not despair of recommencing
      the war successfully.
    
The ceasefire that followed the battle of Marengo, which had been initially broken and then restored, remained in effect for a while between the armies of the Rhine and Italy and the Imperial forces. However, Austria, influenced by a 2,000,000 sterling subsidy, was unwilling to negotiate peace without England's involvement. She still had hopes of restarting the war successfully.







      M. de St. Julien had signed preliminaries at Paris; but the Court of
      Vienna disavowed them, and Duroc, whom Bonaparte sent to convey the
      preliminaries to Vienna for the Imperial ratification, was not permitted
      to pass the Austrian advance posts. This unexpected proceeding, the result
      of the all-powerful influence of England, justly incensed the First
      Consul, who had given decided proofs of moderation and a wish for peace.
      "I want peace," said he to me, "to enable me to organise the interior; the
      people also want it. You see the conditions I offer. Austria, though
      beaten, obtains all she got at Campo-Formio. What can she want more? I
      could make further exactions; but, without fearing the reverses of 1799, I
      must think of the future. Besides, I want tranquillity, to enable me to
      settle the affairs of the interior, and to send aid to Malta and Egypt.
      But I will not be trifled with. I will force an immediate decision!"
    
M. de St. Julien had signed preliminaries in Paris, but the Court of Vienna rejected them. Duroc, whom Bonaparte sent to deliver the preliminaries to Vienna for Imperial approval, wasn’t allowed to pass through the Austrian advance posts. This unexpected move, driven by England's powerful influence, justly angered the First Consul, who had clearly shown moderation and a desire for peace. "I want peace," he said to me, "so I can organize things internally; the people want it too. Look at the conditions I'm offering. Austria, even though defeated, is getting everything it had at Campo-Formio. What more could she want? I could demand more, but, without fearing the setbacks of 1799, I must think about the future. Also, I want stability to handle domestic issues and provide support to Malta and Egypt. But I won’t be toyed with. I will push for an immediate decision!"







      In his irritation the First Consul despatched orders to Moreau, directing
      him to break the armistice and resume hostilities unless he regained
      possession of the bridges of the Rhine and the Danube by the surrender of
      Philipsburg, Ulm, and Ingolstadt. The Austrians then offered to treat with
      France on new bases. England wished to take part in the Congress, but to
      this the First Consul would not consent until she should sign a separate
      armistice and cease to make common cause with Austria.
    
In his annoyance, the First Consul sent orders to Moreau, telling him to break the truce and restart fighting unless he regained control of the bridges over the Rhine and the Danube by obtaining the surrender of Philipsburg, Ulm, and Ingolstadt. The Austrians then proposed to negotiate with France on new terms. England wanted to be involved in the Congress, but the First Consul wouldn’t agree to that until they signed a separate truce and stopped partnering with Austria.







      The First Consul received intelligence of the occupation of the three
      garrisons on the 23d of September, the day he had fixed in his ultimatum
      to England for the renewal of hostilities. But for the meanwhile he was
      satisfied with the concessions of Austria: that power, in the expectation
      of being supported by England, asked her on what terms she was to treat.
    
The First Consul got news about the occupation of the three garrisons on September 23rd, the day he had set in his ultimatum to England for restarting hostilities. In the meantime, he was content with Austria's concessions: that nation, expecting support from England, asked her what terms they would negotiate.







      During these communications with Austria M. Otto was in London negotiating
      for the exchange of prisoners. England would not hear of an armistice by
      sea like that which France had concluded with Austria by land. She alleged
      that, in case of a rupture, France would derive from that armistice
      greater advantage than Austria would gain by that already concluded. The
      difficulty and delay attending the necessary communications rendered these
      reasons plausible. The First Consul consented to accept other propositions
      from England, and to allow her to take part in the discussions of
      Luneville, but on condition that she should sign a treaty with him without
      the intervention of Austria. This England refused to do. Weary of this
      uncertainty, and the tergiversation of Austria, which was still under the
      influence of England, and feeling that the prolongation of such a state of
      things could only turn to his disadvantage, Bonaparte broke the armistice.
      He had already consented to sacrifices which his successes in Italy did
      not justify. The hope of an immediate peace had alone made him lose sight
      of the immense advantages which victory had given him.
    
During these discussions with Austria, M. Otto was in London negotiating for the exchange of prisoners. England rejected the idea of a sea armistice like the one France had negotiated with Austria on land. They claimed that if there was a breakdown in talks, France would benefit more from that armistice than Austria would from the one already in place. The challenges and delays involved in the necessary communications made these arguments seem reasonable. The First Consul agreed to consider other proposals from England and to let them join the discussions in Luneville, but only if they signed a treaty with him directly, without Austria's involvement. England refused to do that. Tired of the uncertainty and Austria's wavering—brought on by England's influence—and realizing that dragging this situation out could only harm him, Bonaparte ended the armistice. He had already made concessions that his victories in Italy didn’t warrant. The hope of an immediate peace had caused him to overlook the vast advantages that victory had granted him.







      Far from appearing sensible to the many proofs of moderation which the
      First Consul evinced, the combined insolence of England and Austria seemed
      only to increase. Orders were immediately given for resuming the offensive
      in Germany and Italy, and hostilities then recommenced.
    
Far from seeming reasonable in light of the many signs of restraint shown by the First Consul, the combined arrogance of England and Austria seemed only to grow. Orders were quickly given to resume the offensive in Germany and Italy, and hostilities then began again.







      The chances of fortune were long doubtful. After a reverse Austria made
      promises, and after an advantage she evaded them; but finally, fortune
      proved favourable to France. The French armies in Italy and Germany
      crossed the Mincio and the Danube, and the celebrated battle of
      Hohenlinden brought the French advanced posts within ten leagues of
      Vienna. This victory secured peace; for, profiting by past experience, the
      First Consul would not hear of any suspension of arms until Austria should
      consent to a separate treaty. Driven into her last intrenchments, Austria
      was obliged to yield. She abandoned England; and the English Cabinet, in
      spite of the subsidy of 2,000,000 sterling, consented to the separation.
      Great Britain was forced to come to this arrangement in consequence of the
      situation to which the successes of the army of Moreau had reduced
      Austria, which it was certain would be ruined by longer resistance.
    
The odds of success were uncertain for a long time. After a setback, Austria made promises, and after gaining the upper hand, she avoided them; but eventually, luck turned in favor of France. The French armies in Italy and Germany crossed the Mincio and the Danube, and the famous battle of Hohenlinden brought the French troops within ten leagues of Vienna. This victory secured peace; learning from past mistakes, the First Consul refused to consider any ceasefire until Austria agreed to a separate treaty. Cornered into her last defenses, Austria had no choice but to give in. She cut ties with England, and despite the £2,000,000 subsidy, the British Cabinet agreed to the separation. Great Britain was compelled to accept this arrangement due to the situation caused by the victories of Moreau's army, which would definitely lead to Austria's downfall if she continued to resist.







      England wished to enter into negotiations at Luneville. To this the First
      Consul acceded; but, as he saw that England was seeking to deceive him, he
      required that she should suspend hostilities with France, as Austria had
      done. Bonaparte very reasonably alleged that an indefinite armistice on
      the Continent would be more to the disadvantage of France than a long
      armistice by sea would be unfavourable to England. All this adjourned the
      preliminaries to 1801 and the peace to 1802.
    
England wanted to start negotiations at Luneville. The First Consul agreed, but since he noticed that England was trying to trick him, he demanded that they stop fighting with France, just as Austria had. Bonaparte argued that an indefinite ceasefire on the mainland would harm France more than a lengthy ceasefire at sea would hurt England. This pushed the preliminary discussions to 1801 and the peace to 1802.







      The impatience and indignation of the First Consul had been highly excited
      by the evasions of Austria and the plots of England, for he knew all the
      intrigues that were carrying on for the restoration of the Bourbons. His
      joy may be therefore conceived when the battle of Hohenlinden balanced the
      scale of fortune in his favour. On the 3d of December 1800 Moreau gained
      that memorable victory which at length put an end to the hesitations of
      the Cabinet of Vienna.
    
The frustration and anger of the First Consul had been stirred up by Austria's evasions and England's schemes, as he was aware of all the plots aimed at restoring the Bourbons. His joy can therefore be imagined when the battle of Hohenlinden tipped the scales of fortune in his favor. On December 3, 1800, Moreau achieved that significant victory, which finally ended the indecision of the Vienna Cabinet.






 —[On the eve of the battle of Hohenlinden Moreau was at supper with
   his aides de camp and several general officers, when a despatch was
   delivered to him. After he had read it be said to his guests,
   though he was far from being in the habit of boasting, "I am here
   made acquainted with Baron Kray's movements. They are all I could
   wish. To-morrow we will take from him 10,000 prisoners." Moreau
   took 40,000, besides a great many flags.—Bourrienne.]— 
 —[On the night before the battle of Hohenlinden, Moreau was having dinner with his aides and several general officers when a message was delivered to him. After reading it, he said to his guests, though he usually wasn't one to brag, "I'm now aware of Baron Kray's movements. They're exactly what I hoped for. Tomorrow, we'll capture 10,000 prisoners from him." Moreau ended up taking 40,000, along with many flags.—Bourrienne.]—







      On the 6th of December the First Consul received intelligence of the
      battle of Hohenlinden. It was on a Saturday, and he had just returned from
      the theatre when I delivered the despatches to him. He literally danced
      for joy. I must say that he did not expect so important a result from the
      movements of the army of the Rhine. This victory gave a new face to his
      negotiations for peace, and determined the opening of the Congress of
      Luneville, which took place on the 1st of January following.
    
On December 6th, the First Consul got news about the battle of Hohenlinden. It was a Saturday, and he had just returned from the theater when I handed him the dispatches. He literally danced for joy. I have to say that he didn't expect such a significant outcome from the movements of the army of the Rhine. This victory changed the course of his peace negotiations and led to the opening of the Congress of Luneville, which happened on January 1st the following year.







      On receiving information of the battle of Hohenlinden, Madame Moreau came
      to the Tuileries to call on the First Consul and Madame Bonaparte. She did
      not see them, and repeated her calls several times with no better success.
      The last time she came she was accompanied by her mother, Madame Hulot.
      She waited for a considerable time in vain, and when she was going away
      her mother, who could no longer restrain her feelings, said aloud, before
      me and several persons of the household, that "it ill became the wife of
      the conqueror of Hohenlinden to dance attendance in this way." This remark
      reached the ears of those to whom it was directed. Madame Moreau shortly
      after rejoined her husband in Germany; and some time after her departure
      Madame Hulot came to Malmaison to solicit promotion for her eldest son,
      who was in the navy. Josephine received Madame Hulot very kindly, and
      requested her to stay to dinner. She accepted the invitation. The First
      Consul, who did not see her until the hour of dinner, treated her very
      coolly: he said little to her, and retired as soon as dinner was over. His
      rudeness was so marked and offensive that Josephine, who was always kind
      and amiable, thought it necessary to apologise, by observing that his mind
      was disturbed by the non-arrival of a courier whom he expected.
    
When Madame Moreau heard about the battle of Hohenlinden, she went to the Tuileries to visit the First Consul and Madame Bonaparte. She didn't get to see them and tried several times without better luck. The last time she visited, she was with her mother, Madame Hulot. They waited a long time in vain, and as they were leaving, her mother, unable to hold back her feelings, said out loud, in front of me and several household members, that "the wife of the conqueror of Hohenlinden shouldn't have to wait like this." This comment was heard by those it was aimed at. Shortly after, Madame Moreau rejoined her husband in Germany, and some time later, Madame Hulot came to Malmaison to seek a promotion for her eldest son, who was in the navy. Josephine was very welcoming to Madame Hulot and invited her to stay for dinner. She accepted the invite. The First Consul, who didn't see her until dinner, was quite cold to her: he barely spoke and left right after dinner. His rudeness was so blatant and off-putting that Josephine, kind and friendly as always, felt the need to apologize, explaining that his mind was preoccupied with the delayed arrival of a courier he was expecting.







      Bonaparte entertained no dislike of Moreau, because he did not fear him;
      and after the battle of Hohenlinden he spoke of him in the highest terms,
      and frankly acknowledged the services he had rendered on that important
      occasion; but he could not endure his wife's family, who, he said, were a
      set of intriguers.
    
Bonaparte had no dislike for Moreau because he wasn’t afraid of him; after the battle of Hohenlinden, he praised him highly and openly recognized the contributions he made during that crucial moment. However, he couldn’t stand his wife’s family, whom he described as a group of schemers.






 —[Napoleon had good reason for his opinion. "Moreau had a mother-
   in-law and a wife lively and given to intrigue. Bonaparte could not
   bear intriguing women. Besides, on one occasion Madame Moreau's
   mother, when at Malmaison, had indulged in sharp remarks on a
   suspected scandalous intimacy between Bonaparte and his young sister
   Caroline, then just married. The Consul had not forgiven such
   conversation" (Rémusat tome i. P. 192). see also Meneval, tome
   iii. p. 57, as to the mischief done by Madame Hulot.]— 
 —[Napoleon had good reason for his opinion. "Moreau had a mother-in-law and a wife who were lively and prone to intrigue. Bonaparte couldn’t stand women who stirred up trouble. Plus, on one occasion, Madame Moreau's mother, during her visit to Malmaison, made some sharp comments about a rumored scandalous relationship between Bonaparte and his young sister Caroline, who had just gotten married. The Consul never forgave such talk" (Rémusat tome i. P. 192). see also Meneval, tome iii. p. 57, regarding the trouble caused by Madame Hulot.] 







      Luneville having been fixed upon for the Congress, the First Consul sent
      his brother Joseph to treat with Count Louis de Cobentzel. On his way
      Joseph met M. de Cobentzel, who had passed Luneville, and was coming to
      Paris to sound the sentiments of the French Government. Joseph returned to
      Paris with him. After some conversation with the First Consul they set out
      next day for Luneville, of which place Bonaparte appointed General Clarke
      governor. This appeared to satisfy Clarke, who was very anxious to be
      something, and had long been importuning Bonaparte for an appointment.
    
Luneville was chosen for the Congress, so the First Consul sent his brother Joseph to negotiate with Count Louis de Cobentzel. On his way, Joseph ran into M. de Cobentzel, who had already passed Luneville and was heading to Paris to gauge the French Government's feelings. Joseph returned to Paris with him. After a discussion with the First Consul, they set out the next day for Luneville, where Bonaparte appointed General Clarke as governor. This seemed to make Clarke happy, as he was eager to achieve something and had been persistently asking Bonaparte for a position.







      A day or two after the news of the battle of Hohenlinden M. Maret came to
      present for Bonaparte's signature some, decrees made in Council. While
      affixing the signatures, and without looking up, the First Consul said to
      M. Maret, who was a favourite with him, and who was standing at his right
      hand, "Are you rich, Maret?"—"No, General."—"So much the
      worse: a man should be independent."—"General, I will never be
      dependent on any one but you." The First Consul then raised his eyes to
      Maret and said, "Hem! that is not bad!" and when the secretary-general was
      gone he said to me, "Maret is not deficient in cleverness: he made me a
      very good answer."
    
A day or two after the news of the Battle of Hohenlinden, M. Maret came to get some decrees approved by Bonaparte. While signing them, and without looking up, the First Consul said to M. Maret, who was one of his favorites and was standing on his right, "Are you rich, Maret?" — "No, General." — "That's too bad: a man should be independent." — "General, I will never be dependent on anyone but you." The First Consul then looked at Maret and said, "Hmm! That's not bad!" And once the secretary-general left, he told me, "Maret isn't lacking in cleverness: he gave me a very good answer."







      On the 9th of February 1801, six weeks after the opening of the Congress
      of Luneville, peace was signed between Austria and France. This peace—the
      fruit of Marengo and Hohenlinden—restored France to that honourable
      position which had been put in jeopardy by the feeble and incapable
      government of the pentarchy and the reverses of 1799. This peace, which in
      the treaty, according to custom, was called perpetual, lasted four years.
    
On February 9, 1801, six weeks after the Congress of Luneville began, peace was signed between Austria and France. This peace—the result of Marengo and Hohenlinden—secured France’s respectable position that had been threatened by the weak and ineffective government of the pentarchy and the setbacks of 1799. This peace, which was termed perpetual in the treaty as per tradition, only lasted four years.







      Joseph Bonaparte, while treating for France at Luneville, was speculating
      on the rise of the funds which he thought the peace would produce. Persons
      more wise, who were like him in the secret, sold out their stock at the
      moment when the certainty of the peace became known. But Joseph purchased
      to a great extent, in the hope of selling to advantage on the signature of
      peace. However, the news had been discounted, and a fall took place.
      Joseph's loss was considerable, and he could not satisfy the engagements
      in which his greedy and silly speculations had involved him. He applied to
      his brother, who neither wished nor was able to advance him the necessary
      sum. Bonaparte was, however, exceedingly sorry to see his elder brother in
      this embarrassment. He asked me what was to be done. I told him I did not
      know; but I advised him to consult M. de Talleyrand, from whom he had
      often received good advice. He did so, and M. de Talleyrand replied, with
      that air of coolness which is so peculiar to him, "What! is that all? Oh!
      that is nothing. It is easily settled. You have only to raise the price of
      the funds."—"But the money?"— "Oh, the money may be easily
      obtained. Make some deposits in the Mont-de-Piste, or the sinking fund.
      That will give you the necessary money to raise the funds; and then Joseph
      may sell out, and recover his losses." M. de Talleyrand's advice was
      adopted, and all succeeded as he had foretold. None but those who have
      heard M. de Talleyrand converse can form an accurate idea of his easy
      manner of expressing himself, his imperturbable coolness, the fixed
      unvarying expression of his countenance, and his vast fund of wit.
    
Joseph Bonaparte, while negotiating for France at Luneville, was contemplating the rise in stocks that he believed the peace would bring. Smarter individuals, who were aware of the situation like him, sold off their shares as soon as the peace was confirmed. But Joseph invested heavily, hoping to profit from selling once the peace agreement was signed. Unfortunately, the news had already been factored into the prices, leading to a drop instead. Joseph faced significant losses and couldn't meet the financial commitments his greedy and foolish choices had led him into. He turned to his brother, who neither wanted nor could provide the necessary funds. However, Bonaparte felt very sorry to see his elder brother in such a predicament. He asked me what should be done. I said I didn’t know but suggested he consult M. de Talleyrand, who had often given him good advice. He did, and M. de Talleyrand responded, with his characteristic coolness, "What! Is that it? Oh! That’s nothing. It’s easily resolved. You just need to raise the stock prices."—"But what about the money?"— "Oh, the money is easy to get. Just make some deposits in the Mont-de-Piste or the sinking fund. That’ll give you the funds needed to raise the stocks; then Joseph can sell and recover his losses." M. de Talleyrand's advice was followed, and everything went as he predicted. Only those who have heard M. de Talleyrand speak can truly appreciate his effortless way of expressing himself, his unflappable calm, the consistent expression on his face, and his immense wit.






 —[Talleyrand had a large experience in all sorts of speculation.
   When old he gave this counsel to one of his proteges: "Do not
   speculate. I have always speculated on assured information, and
   that has cost me so many millions;" and he named his losses. We may
   believe that in this reckoning he rather forgot the amount of his
   gains (Sainte-Beuve, Talleyrand, 93).]— 
 —[Talleyrand had extensive experience with various kinds of speculation. When he was older, he advised one of his protégés: "Don’t speculate. I’ve always speculated based on reliable information, and that has cost me millions," and he mentioned his losses. We can assume that in this calculation, he somewhat overlooked the amount of his profits (Sainte-Beuve, Talleyrand, 93).] 







      During the sitting of the Congress the First Consul learnt that the
      Government couriers conveyed to favoured individuals in Paris various
      things, but especially the delicacies of the table, and he ordered that
      this practice should be discontinued. On the very evening on which this
      order was issued Cambacérès entered the salon, where I was alone with the
      First Consul, who had already been laughing at the mortification which he
      knew this regulation would occasion to his colleague: "Well, Cambacérès,
      what brings you here at this time of night?"—"I come to solicit an
      exception to the order which you have just given to the Director of the
      Posts. How do you think a man can make friends unless he keeps a good
      table? You know very well how much good dinners assist the business of
      Government." The First Consul laughed, called him a gourmand, and, patting
      him on the shoulder, said, "Do not distress yourself, my dear Cambacérès;
      the couriers shall continue to bring you your 'dindes aux truffes', your
      Strasburg 'pates', your Mayence hams, and your other titbits."
    
During the Congress session, the First Consul found out that government couriers were delivering various items, especially gourmet food, to select individuals in Paris, and he decided to put an end to this practice. That very evening, when this order was issued, Cambacérès walked into the salon where I was alone with the First Consul, who was already amused by the embarrassment this regulation would cause his colleague: "So, Cambacérès, what brings you here at this late hour?"—"I'm here to ask for an exception to the order you just gave the Post Director. How do you expect a man to make friends if he doesn't host good dinners? You know well how much a nice meal helps with government affairs." The First Consul laughed, called him a foodie, and, giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder, said, "Don't worry, my dear Cambacérès; the couriers will still bring you your truffle turkeys, your Strasbourg pâtés, your Mainz hams, and all your other delicacies."







      Those who recollect the magnificent dinners given by Cambacérès and
      others, which were a general topic of conversation at the time, and who
      knew the ingenious calculation which was observed in the invitation of the
      guests, must be convinced of the vast influence of a good dinner in
      political affairs. As to Cambacérès, he did not believe that a good
      government could exist without good dinners; and his glory (for every man
      has his own particular glory) was to know that the luxuries of his table
      were the subject of eulogy throughout Paris, and even Europe. A banquet
      which commanded general suffrage was to him a Marengo or a Friedland.
    
Those who remember the amazing dinners hosted by Cambacérès and others, which were a hot topic of conversation at the time, and those who understood the clever planning involved in the guest invitations, must realize the significant impact a great dinner can have on politics. Cambacérès believed that a good government could not exist without good dinners; his pride (as everyone has their own unique sense of pride) was knowing that the lavishness of his meals was praised throughout Paris and even Europe. A banquet that received universal approval was to him like a Marengo or a Friedland.






 —[Bourrienne does not exaggerate this excellent quality of the
   worthy Cambacérès. When Beugnot was sent to administer the Grand
   Duchy of Berg, Cambacérès said to him, "My dear Beugnot, the Emperor
   arranges crowns as he chooses; here is the Grand Duke of Berg
   (Murat) going to Naples; he is welcome, I have no objection, but
   every year the Grand Duke sent me a couple of dozen hams from his
   Grand Duchy, and I warn you I do not intend to lose them, so you
   must make your preparations.". . . . I never once omitted to
   acquit myself of the obligation, and if there were any delay, . . .
   his Highness never failed to cause one of his secretaries to write a
   good scolding to my house steward; but when the hams arrived
   exactly, his highness never failed to write to my wife himself to
   thank her.

   This was not all; the hams were to come carriage free. This petty
   jobbery occasioned discontent, . . . and it would not have cost
   me more to pay the carriage. The Prince would not allow it. There
   was an agreement between him and Lavalette (the head of the Posts),
   . . . And my Lord appeared to lay as much stress on the
   performance of this treaty as on the procuring of the ham, (Beugnot,
   tome i. p. 262).

   Cambacérès never suffered the cares of Government to distract his
   attention from the great object of life. On one occasion, for
   example, being detained in consultation with Napoleon beyond the
   appointed hour of dinner—it is said that the fate of the Duc
   d'Enghien was the topic under discussion—he was observed, when the
   hour became very late, to show great symptoms of impatience and
   restlessness. He at last wrote a note which he called a gentleman
   usher in waiting to carry. Napoleon, suspecting the contents,
   nodded to an aide de camp to intercept the despatch. As he took it
   into his hands Cambacérès begged earnestly that he would not read a
   trifling note upon domestic matters. Napoleon persisted, and found
   it to be a note to the cook containing only the following words,
   "Gardez les entremetes—les rotis sont perdue." When Napoleon was
   in good humor at the result of a diplomatic conference he was
   accustomed to take leave of the plenipotentiaries with, "Go and dine
   Cambacérès." His table was in fact an important state engine, as
   appears from the anecdote of the trout sent to him by the
   municipality of Geneva, and charged 300 francs in their accounts.
   The Imperial 'Cour des Comptes' having disallowed the item, was
   interdicted from meddling with similar municipal affairs in future
   (Hayward's Art of Dining, p. 20).]

—[Bourrienne doesn’t exaggerate this great quality of the worthy Cambacérès. When Beugnot was sent to manage the Grand Duchy of Berg, Cambacérès told him, "My dear Beugnot, the Emperor arranges crowns as he sees fit; here is the Grand Duke of Berg (Murat) heading to Naples; he is welcome, I have no objections, but every year the Grand Duke sent me a couple of dozen hams from his Grand Duchy, and I warn you I do not intend to lose them, so you must make your preparations." . . . I never once failed to honor that obligation, and if there was any delay, . . . his Highness always had one of his secretaries write a stern letter to my house steward; but when the hams arrived on time, his highness always wrote to my wife himself to thank her.

This wasn’t all; the hams were to be sent carriage-free. This little scam caused discontent, . . . and it wouldn’t have cost me more to pay for the carriage. The Prince wouldn’t allow it. There was an agreement between him and Lavalette (the head of the Posts), . . . and my Lord placed just as much importance on fulfilling this treaty as on securing the ham, (Beugnot, tome i. p. 262).

Cambacérès never let the worries of Government distract him from the main purpose of life. For instance, once when he was held up in a meeting with Napoleon past the dinner hour—it’s said the fate of the Duc d'Enghien was being discussed—he was observed showing signs of impatience and restlessness as it got late. He eventually wrote a note and called a gentleman usher to take it. Napoleon, suspecting its contents, signaled to an aide de camp to intercept the message. As he took it, Cambacérès earnestly requested that he not read a trivial note about personal matters. Napoleon insisted, and found it was a note to the cook saying, "Keep the side dishes—the roasts are lost." When Napoleon was in a good mood after a diplomatic conference, he would often send the plenipotentiaries off with, "Go and dine with Cambacérès." His table was indeed an important state tool, as shown by the story of the trout sent to him by the municipality of Geneva, which was charged 300 francs in their accounts. The Imperial 'Cour des Comptes' had disallowed that item and was prohibited from interfering in similar municipal matters in the future (Hayward's Art of Dining, p. 20).]







      At the commencement of 1801 Fulton presented to Bonaparte his memorial on
      steamboats. I urged a serious examination of the subject. "Bah!" said he,
      "these projectors are all either intriguers or visionaries. Don't trouble
      me about the business." I observed that the man whom he called an
      intriguer was only reviving an invention already known, and that it was
      wrong to reject the scheme without examination. He would not listen to me;
      and thus was adjourned, for some time, the practical application of a
      discovery which has given such an important impulse to trade and
      navigation.
    
At the beginning of 1801, Fulton presented his proposal on steamboats to Bonaparte. I urged him to take the issue seriously. "Bah!" he replied, "these inventors are either schemers or dreamers. Don't bother me with this." I pointed out that the person he called a schemer was simply reviving an existing invention, and it was wrong to dismiss the plan without proper consideration. He refused to listen to me; as a result, the practical implementation of a discovery that has profoundly impacted trade and navigation was put on hold for a while.







      Paul I. fell by the hands of assassins on the night of the 24th of March
      1801. The First Consul was much shocked on receiving the intelligence. In
      the excitement caused by this unexpected event, which had so important an
      influence on his policy, he directed me to send the following note to the
      Moniteur:—
    
Paul I was killed by assassins on the night of March 24, 1801. The First Consul was greatly shocked upon hearing the news. In the excitement that followed this unexpected event, which had such a significant impact on his policies, he instructed me to send the following note to the Moniteur:—






   Paul I. died on the night of the 24th of March, and the English
   squadron passed the Sound on the 30th. History will reveal the
   connection which probably exists between these two events.

   Paul I. died on the night of March 24th, and the English squadron went past the Sound on the 30th. History will uncover the connection that likely exists between these two events.







      Thus were announced the crime of the 24th of March and the not ill-founded
      suspicions of its authors.
    
Thus were announced the crime of March 24th and the reasonable suspicions about its perpetrators.






 —[We do not attempt to rescue the fair name of our country. This
   is one among many instances in which Bourrienne was misled.—Editor
   of 1886 edition.]— 
 —[We are not trying to defend the good reputation of our country. This is just one of many cases where Bourrienne was misguided.—Editor of 1886 edition.]—







      The amicable relations of Paul and Bonaparte had been daily strengthened.
      "In concert with the Czar," said Bonaparte, "I was sure of striking a
      mortal blow at the English power in India. A palace revolution has
      overthrown all my projects." This resolution, and the admiration of the
      Autocrat of Russia for the head of the French Republic, may certainly be
      numbered among the causes of Paul's death. The individuals generally
      accused at the time were those who were violently and perseveringly
      threatened, and who had the strongest interest in the succession of a new
      Emperor. I have seen a letter from a northern sovereign which in my mind
      leaves no doubt on this subject, and which specified the reward of the
      crime, and the part to be performed by each actor. But it must also be
      confessed that the conduct and character of Paul I., his tyrannical acts,
      his violent caprices, and his frequent excesses of despotism, had rendered
      him the object of accumulated hatred, for patience has its limit. These
      circumstances did not probably create the conspiracy, but they
      considerably facilitated the execution of the plot which deprived the Czar
      of his throne and his life.
    
The friendly relationship between Paul and Bonaparte grew stronger every day.  
      "Working together with the Czar," Bonaparte said, "I was confident I could deal a fatal blow to English power in India. A palace coup has ruined all my plans." This decision, along with Russia's Autocrat's admiration for the leader of the French Republic, can definitely be counted among the reasons for Paul's death. Those who were generally blamed at the time were the ones who were most aggressively and persistently threatened, and who had the greatest stake in the rise of a new Emperor. I've seen a letter from a northern ruler that, in my opinion, leaves no doubt about this and clearly mentioned the reward for the crime and the role each participant was to play. However, it must also be acknowledged that Paul's erratic behavior, his tyrannical actions, and his frequent abuses of power had made him a target of intense hatred, as there is a limit to patience. These factors likely did not instigate the conspiracy, but they significantly aided the execution of the plot that robbed the Czar of both his throne and his life.







      As soon as Alexander ascended the throne the ideas of the First Consul
      respecting the dismemberment of Poland were revived, and almost wholly
      engrossed his mind. During his first campaign in Italy, and several times
      when in Egypt, he told Sulkowsky that it was his ardent wish to
      reestablish Poland, to avenge the iniquity of her dismemberment, and by
      that grand repertory act to restore the former equilibrium of Europe. He
      often dictated to me for the 'Moniteur' articles tending to prove, by
      various arguments, that Europe would never enjoy repose until those great
      spoilations were avenged and repaired; but he frequently destroyed these
      articles instead of sending them to press. His system of policy towards
      Russia changed shortly after the death of Paul. The thought of a war
      against that empire unceasingly occupied his mind, and gave birth to the
      idea of that fatal campaign which took place eleven years afterwards, and
      which had other causes than the re-establishment of Poland. That object
      was merely set forward as a pretext.
    
As soon as Alexander became king, the First Consul’s ideas about breaking up Poland came back to life and took over his thoughts. During his first campaign in Italy and several times while in Egypt, he told Sulkowsky that he passionately wanted to restore Poland, to make up for the injustice of its partition, and through that grand act to bring back balance to Europe. He often dictated articles for the 'Moniteur' that argued various points, claiming that Europe would never find peace until those great wrongs were righted; however, he frequently ended up destroying these articles instead of sending them to be published. His approach to Russia changed shortly after Paul’s death. The thought of going to war against that empire constantly occupied him and led to the idea of the disastrous campaign that happened eleven years later, which had reasons beyond just restoring Poland. That goal was mainly used as an excuse.







      Duroc was sent to St. Petersburg to congratulate the Emperor Alexander on
      his accession to the throne. He arrived in the Russian capital on the 24th
      of May. Duroc, who was at this time very young, was a great favourite of
      the First Consul. He never importuned Bonaparte by his solicitations, and
      was never troublesome in recommending any one or busying himself as an
      agent for favour; yet he warmly advocated the cause of those whom he
      thought injured, and honestly repelled accusations which he knew to be
      false. These moral qualities; joined to an agreeable person and elegant
      manners, rendered him a very superior man.
    
Duroc was sent to St. Petersburg to congratulate Emperor Alexander on his rise to the throne. He arrived in the Russian capital on May 24th. At this time, Duroc was quite young and was a favorite of the First Consul. He never bothered Bonaparte with requests and was never a nuisance by recommending people or acting as an agent for favors; however, he passionately supported those he felt were wronged and honestly defended against accusations he knew were false. These moral traits, combined with his pleasant appearance and graceful manners, made him a standout individual.







      The year 1801 was, moreover, marked by the fatal creation of special
      tribunals, which were in no way justified by the urgency of circumstances.
      This year also saw the re-establishment of the African Company, the treaty
      of Luneville (which augmented the advantages France had obtained by the
      treaty of Campo-Formio), and the peace concluded between Spain and
      Portugal by means of Lucien. On the subject of this peace I may mention
      that Portugal, to obtain the cession of Olivenza, secretly offered
      Bonaparte, through me, 8,000,000 of francs if he would contribute his
      influence towards the acquisition of that town by Portugal. He, rejected
      this offer indignantly, declaring that he would never sell honour for
      money. He has been accused of having listened to a similar proposition at
      Passeriano, though in fact no such proposition was ever made to him. Those
      who bring forward such accusations little know the inflexibility of his
      principles on this point.
    
The year 1801 was also marked by the unfortunate creation of special tribunals, which were not justified by the urgency of the situation. This year also saw the re-establishment of the African Company, the Treaty of Luneville (which increased the benefits France gained from the Treaty of Campo-Formio), and the peace settled between Spain and Portugal through Lucien. Regarding this peace, I should mention that Portugal secretly offered Bonaparte, through me, 8,000,000 francs to help secure the cession of Olivenza. He indignantly rejected this offer, stating that he would never sell his honor for money. He has been accused of considering a similar proposal at Passeriano, but in reality, no such proposal was ever made to him. Those who make these accusations don't understand his unwavering principles on this matter.







      One evening in April 1801 an English paper—the London Gazette—arrived
      at Malmaison. It announced the landing in Egypt of the army commanded by
      Abercromby, the battle given by the English, and the death of their
      General. I immediately translated the article, and presented it to the
      First Consul, with the conviction that the news would be very painful to
      him. He doubted its truth, or at least pretended to do so. Several
      officers and aides de camp who were in the salon coincided in his opinion,
      especially Lannes, Bessières, and Duroc. They thought by so doing to
      please the First Consul, who then said to me, in a jeering tone, "Bah! you
      do not understand English. This is the way with you: you are always
      inclined to believe bad news rather than good!" These words, and the
      approving smiles of the gentlemen present, ruffled me, and I said with
      some warmth, "How, General, can you believe that the English Government
      would publish officially so important an event if it were not true? Do you
      think that a Government that has any self-respect would, in the face of
      Europe, state a falsehood respecting an affair the truth of which cannot
      long remain unknown? Did you ever know an instance of so important an
      announcement proving untrue after it had been published in the London
      Gazette? I believe it to be true, and the smiles of these gentlemen will
      not alter my opinion." On these observations the First Consul rose and
      said, "Come, Bourrienne, I want you in the library." After we had left the
      salon he added, "This is always the way with you. Why are you vexed at
      such trifles? I assure you I believe the news but too confidently, and I
      feared it before it came. But they think they please me by thus appearing
      to doubt it. Never mind them."—"I ask your pardon," said I, "but I
      conceive the best way of proving my attachment to you is to tell you what
      I believe to be true. You desire me not to delay a moment in announcing
      bad news to you. It would be far worse to disguise than to conceal it."
    
One evening in April 1801, an English paper—the London Gazette—arrived at Malmaison. It reported the landing of Abercromby’s army in Egypt, the battle fought by the English, and the death of their General. I quickly translated the article and presented it to the First Consul, convinced that the news would be very upsetting for him. He doubted its accuracy, or at least acted like he did. Several officers and aides-de-camp in the room agreed with him, especially Lannes, Bessières, and Duroc. They thought they were pleasing the First Consul. He then said to me, in a mocking tone, "Come on! You don’t understand English. This is typical of you: you’re always more likely to believe bad news than good!" His words, along with the approving smiles of the other gentlemen, irritated me, and I replied heatedly, "How, General, can you think that the English Government would officially announce such an important event if it weren’t true? Do you believe a self-respecting Government would state a lie about something whose truth would soon be revealed? Have you ever known an important announcement published in the London Gazette to turn out false? I believe it’s true, and the smiles of these gentlemen won’t change my mind." After hearing this, the First Consul stood up and said, "Come on, Bourrienne, I need you in the library." Once we left the salon, he added, "This is how it always is with you. Why are you upset over such trivial matters? I assure you I believe the news all too confidently; I feared it before it was reported. But they think they’re pleasing me by pretending to doubt it. Ignore them."—"I apologize," I said, "but I believe the best way to show my loyalty to you is to tell you what I think is true. You want me to report bad news to you without delay. It would be worse to disguise it than to reveal it."








 


 




















      CHAPTER V.
    



      1801-1802.
    
1801-1802.


   An experiment of royalty—Louis de Bourbon and Maria Louisa, of
   Spain—Creation of the kingdom of Etruria—The Count of Leghorn in
   Paris—Entertainments given him—Bonaparte's opinion of the King of
   Etruria—His departure for Florence, and bad reception there—
   Negotiations with the Pope—Bonaparte's opinion on religion—Te Deum
   at Notre Dame—Behaviour of the people in the church—Irreligion of
   the Consular Court—Augereau's remark on the Te Deum—First Mass at
   St. Cloud-Mass in Bonaparte's apartments—Talleyrand relieved from
   his clerical vows—My appointment to the Council of State.

An experiment of royalty—Louis de Bourbon and Maria Louisa of Spain—Creation of the kingdom of Etruria—The Count of Leghorn in Paris—Entertainments held for him—Bonaparte's thoughts on the King of Etruria—His departure for Florence and the poor reception he received there—Negotiations with the Pope—Bonaparte's views on religion—Te Deum at Notre Dame—The behavior of the people in the church—The irreligion of the Consular Court—Augereau's comment about the Te Deum—First Mass at St. Cloud—Mass in Bonaparte's rooms—Talleyrand released from his clerical vows—My appointment to the Council of State.







      Before he placed two crowns on his own head Bonaparte thought it would
      promote the interests of his policy to place one on the head of a prince,
      and even a prince of the House of Bourbon. He wished to accustom the
      French to the sight of a king. It will hereafter be seen that he gave
      sceptres, like his confidence, conditionally, and that he was always ready
      to undo his own work when it became an obstacle to his ambitious designs.
    
Before he put two crowns on his own head, Bonaparte believed it would benefit his agenda to crown a prince, even one from the House of Bourbon. He aimed to get the French used to seeing a king. It will later be shown that he handed out scepters, just like his trust, with conditions, and that he was always ready to reverse his own actions when they interfered with his ambitious plans.







      In May 1801 the Infanta of Spain, Maria Louisa, third daughter of Charles
      IV., visited Paris. The Infante Louis de Bourbon, eldest son of the Duke
      of Parma, had gone to Madrid in 1798 to contract a marriage with Maria
      Amelia, the sister of Maria Louisa; but he fell in love with the latter.
      Godoy favoured the attachment, and employed all his influence to bring
      about the marriage. The son who, six years later, was born of this union,
      was named Charles Louis, after the King of Spain. France occupied the
      Duchy of Parma, which, in fulfilment of the conventions signed by Lucien
      Bonaparte, was to belong to her after the death of the reigning Duke. On
      the other hand, France was to cede the Grand Duchy of Tuscany to the son
      of the Duke of Parma; and Spain paid to France, according to stipulation,
      a considerable sum of money. Soon after the treaty was communicated to Don
      Louis and his wife they left Madrid and travelled through France. The
      prince took the title of Count of Leghorn. All accounts are unanimous as
      to the attentions which the Prince and Princess received on their journey.
      Among the fetes in honour of the illustrious couple that given by M. de
      Talleyrand at Neuilly was remarkable for magnificence.
    
In May 1801, Maria Louisa, the Infanta of Spain and the third daughter of Charles IV, visited Paris. The Infante Louis de Bourbon, the eldest son of the Duke of Parma, had gone to Madrid in 1798 to marry Maria Amelia, who is Maria Louisa's sister, but he fell in love with Maria Louisa instead. Godoy supported their romance and used all his influence to arrange the marriage. The son born from this union six years later was named Charles Louis, after the King of Spain. France occupied the Duchy of Parma, which, according to the agreements signed by Lucien Bonaparte, was to become French after the current Duke's death. In return, France would give the Grand Duchy of Tuscany to the Duke of Parma's son, and Spain would pay France a significant amount of money as agreed. Shortly after the treaty was shared with Don Louis and his wife, they left Madrid and traveled through France. The prince took the title of Count of Leghorn. Everyone agrees on the warm welcome the Prince and Princess received during their journey. Among the celebrations held in honor of the distinguished couple, M. de Talleyrand's event at Neuilly stood out for its magnificence.







      When the Count of Leghorn was coming to pay his first visit to Malmaison
      Bonaparte went into the drawing-room to see that everything was suitably
      prepared for his reception. In a few minutes he returned to his cabinet
      and said to me, somewhat out of humour, "Bourrienne, only think of their
      stupidity; they had not taken down the picture representing me on the
      summit of the Alps pointing to Lombardy and commanding the conquest of it.
      I have ordered its removal. How mortifying it would have been if the
      Prince had seen it!"
    
When the Count of Leghorn was coming to pay his first visit to Malmaison, Bonaparte went into the drawing-room to make sure everything was properly set up for his arrival. A few minutes later, he returned to his office and said to me, somewhat annoyed, "Bourrienne, can you believe their stupidity? They didn’t take down the painting of me on top of the Alps pointing to Lombardy and commanding its conquest. I’ve ordered it to be taken down. How embarrassing it would have been if the Prince had seen it!"







      Another picture in the drawing-room at Malmaison represented the First
      Consul sleeping on the snow on the summit of the Alps before the battle of
      Marengo.
    
Another picture in the drawing room at Malmaison showed the First Consul sleeping on the snow at the peak of the Alps before the battle of Marengo.







      The Count of Leghorn's visit to Paris imparted brilliancy to the first
      years of the reign of Bonaparte, of whom it was at that time said, "He
      made kings, but would not be one!"
    
The Count of Leghorn's visit to Paris brought excitement to the early years of Bonaparte's reign, during which people said, "He made kings, but wouldn't be one!"







      At the representation of Oedipus, the following expression of Philactetes
      was received with transport:—
    
At Oedipus's presentation, Philactetes' following statement was received with great excitement:—






     "J'ai fait des Souverains, et n'ai pas voulu l'etre."

     ["Monarchs I've made, but one I would not be."]

     "I've created monarchs, but I didn’t want to be one."







      The First Consul, on leaving the theatre, did not conceal his
      satisfaction. He judged, from the applause with which that verse had been
      received, that his pamphlet was forgotten. The manner, moreover, in which
      a king, crowned by his hands, had been received by the public, was no
      indifferent matter to him, as he expected that the people would thus again
      become familiar with what had been so long proscribed.
    
The First Consul, upon leaving the theater, didn't hide his satisfaction. He figured, from the applause that verse received, that his pamphlet was forgotten. Additionally, the way the public reacted to a king, crowned by his own hands, mattered to him. He anticipated that the people would once again become familiar with what had been banned for so long.







      This King, who, though well received and well entertained, was in all
      respects a very ordinary man, departed for Italy. I say very ordinary, not
      that I had an opportunity of judging of his character myself, but the
      First Consul told me that his capabilities were extremely limited; that he
      even felt repugnance to take a pen in his hand; that he never cast a
      thought on anything but his pleasures: in a word, that he was a fool.
    
This king, who, although he was received and entertained well, was in every way a very average guy, left for Italy. I call him very average, not because I had the chance to judge his character myself, but because the First Consul told me that his abilities were extremely limited; that he even felt reluctant to pick up a pen; that he never considered anything beyond his own pleasures: in short, that he was a fool.







      One day, after the First Consul had spent several hours in company with
      him and his consort, he said to me, "I am quite tired. He is a mere
      automaton. I put a number of questions to him, but he can answer none. He
      is obliged to consult his wife, who makes him understand as well as she is
      able what he ought to say." The First Consul added, "The poor Prince will
      set off to-morrow, without knowing what he is going to do." I observed
      that it was a pity to see the happiness of the people of Tuscany entrusted
      to such a prince. Bonaparte replied, "Policy requires it. Besides, the
      young man is not worse than the usual run of kings." The Prince fully
      justified in Tuscany the opinion which the First Consul formed of him.
    
One day, after the First Consul had spent several hours with him and his partner, he said to me, "I'm really tired. He's just a puppet. I asked him several questions, but he can't answer any of them. He has to check with his wife, who tries to help him understand what he should say." The First Consul added, "The poor Prince will leave tomorrow without having any idea of what he’s supposed to do." I remarked that it was unfortunate to see the happiness of the people of Tuscany resting on such a prince. Bonaparte replied, "It's necessary for politics. Plus, the young man isn't any worse than the average kings." The Prince fully justified in Tuscany the opinion that the First Consul had of him.






 —[This unfortunate Prince was very ill-calculated to recommend, by
   his personal character, the institutions to which the nobility clung
   with so much fondness. Nature had endowed him with an excellent
   heart, but with very limited talents; and his mind had imbibed the
   false impress consequent upon his monastic education. He resided at
   Malmaison nearly the whole time of his visit to Paris. Madame
   Bonaparte used to lead the Queen to her own apartments; and as the
   First Consul never left his closet except to sit down to meals, the
   aides de camp were under the necessity of keeping the King company,
   and of endeavoring to entertain him, so wholly was he devoid of
   intellectual resources. It required, indeed, a great share of
   patience to listen to the frivolities which engrossed his attention.
   His turn of mind being thus laid open to view, care was taken to
   supply him with the playthings usually placed in the hands of
   children; he was, therefore, never at a loss for occupation. His
   nonentity was a source of regret to us: we lamented to see a tall
   handsome youth, destined to rule over his fellow-men, trembling at
   the neigh of a horse, and wasting his time in the game of
   hide-and-seek, or at leap-frog and whose whole information consisted
   in knowing his prayers, and in saying grace before and after meals.
   Such, nevertheless, was the man to whom the destinies of a nation
   were about to be committed! When he left France to repair to his
   kingdom, "Rome need not be uneasy," said the First Consul to us
   after the farewell audience, "there is no danger of his crossing the
   Rubicon" (Memoirs of the Duke of Rovigo, vol. i. p. 363).]— 
 —[This unfortunate Prince was poorly suited to endorse, through his personal character, the institutions that the nobility valued so dearly. Nature had given him a kind heart, but very limited abilities; and his mind had absorbed the misconceptions that came from his monastic education. He stayed at Malmaison for most of his visit to Paris. Madame Bonaparte would take the Queen to her rooms; and since the First Consul rarely left his office except for meals, the aides-de-camp had to keep the King company and try to entertain him, as he was completely lacking in intellectual resources. It truly required a lot of patience to listen to the trivial things that captured his attention. With his mindset laid bare, efforts were made to provide him with the toys usually given to children; thus, he was never short of things to do. His insignificance was a source of disappointment for us: we regretted seeing a tall, handsome young man, destined to lead his fellow men, scared of a horse's neigh, wasting his time playing hide-and-seek or leapfrog, and whose entire knowledge consisted of knowing his prayers and saying grace before and after meals. Yet, this was the man to whom the fate of a nation was about to be entrusted! When he left France to return to his kingdom, "Rome need not be uneasy," the First Consul told us after the farewell audience, "there is no danger of his crossing the Rubicon" (Memoirs of the Duke of Rovigo, vol. i. p. 363).]— 







      In order to show still further attention to the King of Etruria, after his
      three weeks' visit to Paris, the First Consul directed him to be escorted
      to Italy by a French guard, and selected his brother-in-law Murat for that
      purpose.
    
To show even more attention to the King of Etruria after his three-week visit to Paris, the First Consul ordered that he be escorted to Italy by a French guard, choosing his brother-in-law Murat for the job.







      The new King of a new kingdom entered Florence on the 12th of April 1801;
      but the reception given him by the Tuscans was not at all similar to what
      he had experienced at Paris. The people received the royal pair as
      sovereigns imposed on them by France. The ephemeral kingdom of Etruria
      lasted scarcely six years. The King died in 1803, in the flower of his
      age, and in 1807 the Queen was expelled from her throne by him who had
      constructed it for her.
    
The new King of a new kingdom entered Florence on April 12, 1801; but the reception he got from the Tuscans was nothing like what he had in Paris. The people welcomed the royal couple as rulers forced upon them by France. The short-lived kingdom of Etruria lasted barely six years. The King died in 1803, at a young age, and in 1807 the Queen was ousted from her throne by the very person who created it for her.







      At this period a powerful party urged Bonaparte to break with the Pope,
      and to establish a Gallican Church, the head of which should reside in
      France. They thought to flatter his ambition by indicating to him a new
      source of power which might establish a point of comparison between him
      and the first Roman emperors. But his ideas did not coincide with theirs
      on this subject. "I am convinced," said he, "that a part of France would
      become Protestant, especially if I were to favour that disposition. I am
      also certain that the much greater portion would remain Catholic, and
      would oppose, with the greatest zeal and fervour, the schism of a part of
      their fellow-citizens. I dread the religious quarrels, the family
      dissensions, and the public distractions, which such a state of things
      would inevitably occasion. In, reviving a religion which has always
      prevailed in the country, and which still prevails in the hearts of the
      people, and in giving the liberty of exercising their worship to the
      minority, I shall satisfy every one."
    
At this time, a powerful group was pushing Bonaparte to break ties with the Pope and set up a Gallican Church, with its leader based in France. They believed they could boost his ambition by presenting him with a new source of power, comparing him to the first Roman emperors. However, his views on this matter didn’t align with theirs. “I am convinced,” he said, “that part of France would turn Protestant, especially if I supported that idea. I’m also sure that a much larger part would stay Catholic and would strongly oppose the schism among their fellow citizens. I fear the religious conflicts, family disputes, and public unrest that would inevitably arise from such a situation. By reviving a religion that has always existed in this country and still lives in the hearts of the people, and by allowing the minority to practice their faith, I will meet everyone’s needs.”







      The First Consul, taking a superior view of the state of France,
      considered that the re-establishment of religious worship would prove a
      powerful support to his Government: and he had been occupied ever since
      the commencement of 1801 in preparing a Concordat with the Pope. It was
      signed in the month of July in the same year. It required some time to
      enable the parties to come to an understanding on the subject.
    
The First Consul, looking at the situation in France from a higher perspective, believed that restoring religious worship would strongly support his Government. Since the beginning of 1801, he had been working on a Concordat with the Pope. It was signed in July of that year. It took some time for both parties to reach an agreement on the matter.







      Cardinal Consalvi arrived, in the month of June 1801, at Paris, to arrange
      matters on the part of the Pope. Cardinal Caprara and M. de Spina also
      formed part of the embassy sent by the Holy Father. There were, besides,
      several able theologians, among whom Doctor C—— was
      distinguished.
    
Cardinal Consalvi arrived in Paris in June 1801 to handle affairs on behalf of the Pope. Cardinal Caprara and M. de Spina were also part of the delegation sent by the Holy Father. Additionally, there were several skilled theologians, including the notable Doctor C——.






 —[The "Doctor C——" was Caselti, later Archbishop of Parma. Bonier
   was green the Bishopric of Orleans, not Versailles; see Erreurs,
   tome i, p. 276. The details of the surprise attempted at the last
   moment by putting before Cardinal Consalvi for his signature an
   altered copy of the Concordat should be read in his Memoirs (tome i.
   p. 355), or in Lanfrey (tome ii. p. 267). As for Napoleon's
   belief that part of the nation might become Protestant, Narbonne
   probably put the matter truly when he said there was not religion
   enough in France to stand a division. It should be noted that the
   Concordat did not so much restore the Catholic Church as destroy the
   old Gallican Church, with all its liberties, which might annoy
   either Pope or Emperor. But on this point see The Gallican Church
   and the Revolution, by Jervis: London, Began Paul, Trench and Co.,
   1882. The clergy may, it is true, have shown wisdom in acceding to
   any terms of restoration.]— 
 —[The "Doctor C——" was Caselti, who later became the Archbishop of Parma. Bonier was appointed to the Bishopric of Orleans, not Versailles; see Erreurs, tome i, p. 276. The details about the last-minute surprise attempt to get Cardinal Consalvi to sign an altered copy of the Concordat should be found in his Memoirs (tome i. p. 355) or in Lanfrey (tome ii. p. 267). Regarding Napoleon's belief that part of the nation might turn Protestant, Narbonne likely captured the situation accurately when he remarked that there wasn't enough religion in France to support a split. It's important to note that the Concordat didn't really restore the Catholic Church; instead, it dismantled the old Gallican Church along with all its freedoms that could upset either the Pope or the Emperor. For more on this topic, see The Gallican Church and the Revolution, by Jervis: London, Began Paul, Trench and Co., 1882. It’s true that the clergy may have displayed wisdom by accepting any terms of restoration.]—







      He was a member of the Pope's chancery; his knowledge gave him so much
      influence over his colleagues that affairs advanced only as much as he
      pleased. However, he was gained over by honours conferred on him, and
      promises of money. Business then went on a little quicker. The Concordat
      was signed on the 15th of July 1801, and made a law of the State in the
      following April. The plenipotentiaries on the part of Bonaparte were
      Joseph Bonaparte, Cretet, and the Abby Bernier, afterwards Bishop of
      Versailles.—[Orleans not Versailles. D.W.]
    
He was part of the Pope's chancery; his knowledge gave him so much influence over his colleagues that things moved forward only as he wanted. However, he was swayed by the honors he received and promises of money. As a result, business progressed a bit faster. The Concordat was signed on July 15, 1801, and became law in the State the following April. The representatives for Bonaparte were Joseph Bonaparte, Cretet, and the Abby Bernier, who later became Bishop of Versailles.—[Orleans not Versailles. D.W.]







      A solemn Te Deum was chanted at the cathedral of Notre Dame on Sunday, the
      11th of April. The crowd was immense, and the greater part of those
      present stood during the ceremony, which was splendid in the extreme; but
      who would presume to say that the general feeling was in harmony with all
      this pomp? Was, then, the time for this innovation not yet arrived? Was it
      too abrupt a transition from the habits of the twelve preceding years? It
      is unquestionably true that a great number of the persons present at the
      ceremony expressed, in their countenances and gestures, rather a feeling
      of impatience and displeasure than of satisfaction or of reverence for the
      place in which they were. Here and there murmurs arose expressive of
      discontent. The whispering, which I might more properly call open
      conversation, often interrupted the divine service, and sometimes
      observations were made which were far from being moderate. Some would turn
      their heads aside on purpose to take a bit of chocolate-cake, and biscuits
      were openly eaten by many who seemed to pay no attention to what was
      passing.
    
On Sunday, April 11th, a solemn Te Deum was sung at the Notre Dame cathedral. The crowd was huge, and most of those present stood during the ceremony, which was incredibly magnificent; but who would dare to say that the overall mood matched all this grandeur? Was it not yet the right time for this change? Was it too sudden of a shift from the habits of the previous twelve years? It’s undeniable that many people at the ceremony showed more impatience and displeasure in their expressions and actions than satisfaction or respect for the sacred place they were in. Here and there, murmurs of discontent could be heard. The whispering, which I might better describe as open conversation, often interrupted the service, and sometimes remarks were made that were far from polite. Some people purposely turned their heads to sneak a piece of chocolate cake, while others openly ate biscuits, seeming oblivious to what was happening around them.







      The Consular Court was in general extremely irreligious; nor could it be
      expected to be otherwise, being composed chiefly of those who had assisted
      in the annihilation of all religious worship in France, and of men who,
      having passed their lives in camps, had oftener entered a church in Italy
      to carry off a painting than to hear the Mass. Those who, without being
      imbued with any religious ideas, possessed that good sense which induces
      men to pay respect to the belief of others, though it be one in which they
      do not participate, did not blame the First Consul for his conduct, and
      conducted themselves with some regard to decency. But on the road from the
      Tuileries to Notre Dame, Lannes and Augereau wanted to alight from the
      carriage as soon as they saw that they were being driven to Mass, and it
      required an order from the First Consul to prevent their doing so. They
      went therefore to Notre Dame, and the next day Bonaparte asked Augereau
      what he thought of the ceremony. "Oh! it was all very fine," replied the
      General; "there was nothing wanting, except the million of men who have
      perished in the pulling down of what you are setting up." Bonaparte was
      much displeased at this remark.
    
The Consular Court was generally very irreligious; it was made up mostly of those who had helped destroy all religious worship in France, and of men who, having spent their lives in military camps, had more often entered a church in Italy to steal a painting than to attend Mass. Those who, while not having any religious beliefs themselves, had enough common sense to respect the beliefs of others—even if they didn't share them—didn't criticize the First Consul for his actions, and acted with some sense of decency. But on the way from the Tuileries to Notre Dame, Lannes and Augereau wanted to get out of the carriage as soon as they realized they were being driven to Mass, and it took an order from the First Consul to stop them. So they went to Notre Dame, and the next day Bonaparte asked Augereau what he thought of the ceremony. "Oh! it was all very nice," replied the General; "everything was there, except the million men who died in the destruction of what you're trying to rebuild." Bonaparte was very displeased by this remark.






 —[This remark has been attributed elsewhere to General Delmas.

   According to a gentleman who played a part in this empty pageantry,
   Lannes at one moment did get out of the carriage, and Augereau kept
   swearing in no low whisper during the whole of the chanted Mass.
   Most of the military chiefs who sprang out of the Revolution had no
   religion at all, but there were some who were Protestants, and who
   were irritated by the restoration of Catholicism as the national
   faith.—Editor of 1896 edition.]— 
 —[This remark has been attributed elsewhere to General Delmas.

   According to a gentleman who was part of this empty spectacle,
   Lannes did step out of the carriage for a moment, and Augereau kept
   cursing loudly throughout the entire Mass. 
   Most of the military leaders who emerged from the Revolution had no
   religious beliefs at all, but there were some who were Protestants and who
   were annoyed by the restoration of Catholicism as the national faith.—Editor of 1896 edition.]—







      During the negotiations with the Holy Father Bonaparte one day said to me,
      "In every country religion is useful to the Government, and those who
      govern ought to avail themselves of it to influence mankind. I was a
      Mahometan in Egypt; I am a Catholic in France. With relation to the police
      of the religion of a state, it should be entirely in the hands of the
      sovereign. Many persons have urged me to found a Gallican Church, and make
      myself its head; but they do not know France. If they did, they would know
      that the majority of the people would not like a rupture with Rome. Before
      I can resolve on such a measure the Pope must push matters to an
      extremity; but I believe he will not do so."—"You are right,
      General, and you recall to my memory what Cardinal Consalvi said: 'The
      Pope will do all the First Consul desires.'"—"That is the best
      course for him. Let him not suppose that he has to do with an idiot. What
      do you think is the point his negotiations put most forward? The salvation
      of my soul! But with me immortality is the recollection one leaves in the
      memory of man. That idea prompts to great actions. It would be better for
      a man never to have lived than to leave behind him no traces of his
      existence."
    
During the negotiations, the Holy Father Bonaparte once said to me, "In every country, religion is beneficial to the government, and those in power should use it to influence people. I was a Muslim in Egypt; now I’m a Catholic in France. As for the management of state religion, that should rest entirely with the sovereign. Many have suggested that I establish a Gallican Church and become its leader, but they don’t understand France. If they did, they'd realize that most people wouldn’t support a split from Rome. Before I can consider such a move, the Pope would need to push things to the limit; but I doubt he’ll go that far."—"You're right, General, and you remind me of what Cardinal Consalvi said: 'The Pope will do everything the First Consul wants.'"—"That’s the best approach for him. He shouldn’t think he’s dealing with a fool. What do you think is the main focus of his negotiations? The salvation of my soul! But for me, immortality is the legacy one leaves in people’s memories. That thought inspires great actions. It’s better for someone to have never lived than to leave no trace of their existence."







      Many endeavours were made to persuade the First Consul to perform in
      public the duties imposed by the Catholic religion. An influential
      example, it was urged, was required. He told me once that he had put an
      end to that request by the following declaration: "Enough of this. Ask me
      no more. You will not obtain your object. You shall never make a hypocrite
      of me. Let us remain where we are."
    
Many efforts were made to convince the First Consul to publicly fulfill the duties required by the Catholic religion. It was said that a strong example was needed. He once told me that he had shut down that request with this declaration: "That's enough. Don't ask me again. You won't achieve your goal. You'll never make a hypocrite out of me. Let's just stay as we are."







      I have read in a work remarkable on many accounts that it was on the
      occasion of the Concordat of the 15th July 1801 that the First Consul
      abolished the republican calendar and reestablished the Gregorian. This is
      an error. He did not make the calendar a religious affair. The
      'Senatus-consulte', which restored the use of the Gregorian calendar, to
      commence in the French Empire from the 11th Nivôse, year XIV. (1st January
      1806), was adopted on the 22d Fructidor, year XIII. (9th September 1805),
      more than four years after the Concordat. The re-establishment of the
      ancient calendar had no other object than to bring us into harmony with
      the rest of Europe on a point so closely connected with daily
      transactions, which were much embarrassed by the decadary calendar.
    
I read in a remarkable work that it was during the Concordat of July 15, 1801, that the First Consul abolished the republican calendar and restored the Gregorian calendar. This is a mistake. He didn’t turn the calendar into a religious issue. The 'Senatus-consulte' that reinstated the Gregorian calendar to start in the French Empire from 11th Nivôse, year XIV (January 1, 1806), was adopted on 22nd Fructidor, year XIII (September 9, 1805), more than four years after the Concordat. The purpose of bringing back the old calendar was simply to align us with the rest of Europe on a matter so closely related to daily transactions, which had been complicated by the decimal calendar.







      Bonaparte at length, however, consented to hear Mass, and St. Cloud was
      the place where this ancient usage was first re-established. He directed
      the ceremony to commence sooner than the hour announced in order that
      those who would only make a scoff at it might not arrive until the service
      was ended.
    
Bonaparte eventually agreed to attend Mass, and St. Cloud was where this old tradition was first brought back. He instructed that the ceremony should start earlier than the scheduled time so that those who would just come to mock it wouldn’t arrive until the service was over.







      Whenever the First Consul determined to hear Mass publicly on Sundays in
      the chapel of the Palace a small altar was prepared in a room near his
      cabinet of business. This room had been Anne of Austria's oratory. A small
      portable altar, placed on a platform one step high, restored it to its
      original destination. During the rest of the week this chapel was used as
      a bathing-room. On Sunday the door of communication was opened, and we
      heard Mass sitting in our cabinet of business. The number of persons there
      never exceeded three or four, and the First Consul seldom failed to
      transact some business during the ceremony, which never lasted longer than
      twelve minutes. Next day all the papers had the news that the First Consul
      had heard Mass in his apartments. In the same way Louis XVIII. has often
      heard it in his!
    
Whenever the First Consul decided to attend Mass publicly on Sundays in the palace chapel, a small altar was set up in a room near his office. This room had been Anne of Austria's private chapel. A small portable altar, placed on a one-step platform, restored it to its original purpose. For the rest of the week, this chapel served as a bathroom. On Sundays, the connecting door would be opened, and we would attend Mass while seated in our office. The number of people present never exceeded three or four, and the First Consul often conducted some business during the ceremony, which never lasted more than twelve minutes. The next day, all the papers announced that the First Consul had attended Mass in his apartments. In the same way, Louis XVIII has often attended Mass in his!







      On the 19th of July 1801 a papal bull absolved Talleyrand from his vows.
      He immediately married Madame Grandt, and the affair obtained little
      notice at the time. This statement sufficiently proves how report has
      perverted the fact. It has been said that Bonaparte on becoming Emperor
      wished to restore that decorum which the Revolution had destroyed, and
      therefore resolved to put an end to the improper intimacy which subsisted
      between Talleyrand and Madame Grandt. It is alleged that the Minister at
      first refused to marry the lady, but that he at last found it necessary to
      obey the peremptory order of his master. This pretended resurrection of
      morality by Bonaparte is excessively ridiculous. The bull was not
      registered in the Council of State until the 19th of August 1802.
    
On July 19, 1801, a papal bull released Talleyrand from his vows. He immediately married Madame Grandt, and the event received little attention at the time. This shows how rumor has twisted the truth. It has been said that when Bonaparte became Emperor, he wanted to restore the decorum that the Revolution had destroyed, and so he decided to end the inappropriate relationship between Talleyrand and Madame Grandt. It's claimed that the Minister initially refused to marry her but eventually felt he had to follow his master's firm orders. This supposed revival of morality by Bonaparte is extremely ridiculous. The bull wasn't officially registered in the Council of State until August 19, 1802.






 —[The First Consul had on several occasions urged M. de Talleyrand
   to return to holy orders. He pointed out to him that that course
   would be most becoming his age and high birth, and promised that he
   should be made a cardinal, thus raising him to a par with Richelieu,
   and giving additional lustre to his administration (Memoirs of the
   Duke of Rovigo, vol. i. p. 426).

   But M. de Talleyrand vindicated his choice, saying, "A clever wife
   often compromises her husband; a stupid one only compromises
   herself" (Historical Characters, p.122, Bulwer, Lord Dulling).]— 
—[The First Consul had on several occasions urged M. de Talleyrand to return to the priesthood. He pointed out that this path would be fitting for his age and noble background, and promised that he would be made a cardinal, thus elevating him to the level of Richelieu and adding prestige to his administration (Memoirs of the Duke of Rovigo, vol. i. p. 426).

But M. de Talleyrand defended his choice, saying, "A clever wife often compromises her husband; a stupid one only compromises herself" (Historical Characters, p.122, Bulwer, Lord Dulling).]—







      I will end this chapter by a story somewhat foreign to the preceding
      transactions, but which personally concerns myself. On the 20th of July
      1801 the First Consul, 'ex proprio motu', named me a Councillor of State
      extraordinary. Madame Bonaparte kindly condescended to have an elegant but
      somewhat ideal costume made for me. It pleased the First Consul, however,
      and he had a similar one made for himself. He wore it a short time and
      then left it off. Never had Bonaparte since his elevation shown himself so
      amiable as on this occasion.
    
I’ll wrap up this chapter with a story that's a bit different from what we've talked about so far, but it's personally relevant to me. On July 20, 1801, the First Consul appointed me as an extraordinary Councillor of State. Madame Bonaparte graciously arranged for an elegant but somewhat fanciful outfit for me. The First Consul liked it, so he had one made for himself as well. He wore it briefly and then abandoned it. Since his rise to power, Bonaparte had never seemed as friendly as he did in this moment.








 


 




















      CHAPTER VI.
    



      1802.
    
1802.


   Last chapter on Egypt—Admiral Gantheaume—Way to please Bonaparte—
   General Menou's flattery and his reward—Davoust—Bonaparte regrets
   giving the command to Menou, who is defeated by Abercromby—Otto's
   negotiation in London—Preliminaries of peace.

   Last chapter on Egypt—Admiral Gantheaume—How to impress Bonaparte—  
   General Menou's flattery and his reward—Davoust—Bonaparte wishes  
   he hadn't given the command to Menou, who is defeated by Abercromby—Otto's  
   talks in London—Preliminaries of peace.







      For the last time in these Memoirs I shall return to the affairs of Egypt—to
      that episode which embraces so short a space of time and holds so high a
      place in the life of Bonaparte. Of all his conquests he set the highest
      value on Egypt, because it spread the glory of his name throughout the
      East. Accordingly he left nothing unattempted for the preservation of that
      colony. In a letter to General Kléber he said, "You are as able as I am to
      understand how important is the possession of Egypt to France. The Turkish
      Empire, in which the symptoms of decay are everywhere discernible, is at
      present falling to pieces, and the evil of the evacuation of Egypt by
      France would now be the greater, as we should soon see that fine province
      pass into the possession of some other European power." The selection of
      Gantheaume, however, to carry assistance to Kléber was not judicious.
      Gantheaume had brought the First Consul back from Egypt, and though the
      success of the passage could only be attributed to Bonaparte's own plan,
      his determined character, and superior judgment, yet he preserved towards
      Gantheaume that favourable disposition which is naturally felt for one who
      has shared a great danger with us, and upon whom the responsibility may be
      said to have been imposed.
    
For the last time in these Memoirs, I will return to the events in Egypt—specifically that short episode that played such an important role in Bonaparte's life. Out of all his conquests, he valued Egypt the most because it spread his name’s fame throughout the East. He did everything possible to keep that colony intact. In a letter to General Kléber, he wrote, "You understand as well as I do how crucial Egypt is for France. The Turkish Empire, which is clearly showing signs of decline, is currently falling apart, and the consequences of France evacuating Egypt would be severe since we would soon see that beautiful province fall into the hands of another European power." However, choosing Gantheaume to provide support to Kléber was not a wise decision. Gantheaume had brought the First Consul back from Egypt, and although the success of that journey could only be credited to Bonaparte's own strategy, his strong character, and superior judgment, he still held a favorable view of Gantheaume, which is a natural sentiment toward someone who has faced a significant danger with us and on whom the responsibility could be said to have rested.







      This confidence in mediocrity, dictated by an honourable feeling, did not
      obtain a suitable return. Gantheaume, by his indecision and creeping about
      in the Mediterranean, had already failed to execute a commission entrusted
      to him. The First Consul, upon finding he did not leave Brest after he had
      been ordered to the Mediterranean, repeatedly said to me, "What the devil
      is Gantheaume about?" With one of the daily reports sent to the First
      Consul he received the following quatrain, which made him laugh heartily:
    
This confidence in mediocrity, driven by a sense of honor, didn’t get a fitting response. Gantheaume, through his hesitation and aimless wandering in the Mediterranean, had already failed to carry out a task assigned to him. The First Consul, upon discovering that he hadn’t left Brest after being ordered to the Mediterranean, kept asking me, “What the hell is Gantheaume doing?” Along with one of the daily reports sent to the First Consul, he received the following quatrain, which made him laugh heartily:






          "Vaisseaux lestes, tete sans lest,
          Ainsi part l'Amiral Gantheaume;
          Il s'en va de Brest a Bertheaume,
          Et revient de Bertheaume a Brest!"

       "With ballast on board, but none in his brain,
        Away went our gallant Gantheaume,
        On a voyage from Brest to Bertheaume,
        And then from Bertheaume—to Brest back again!"

          "Vessels loaded, but with no weight in his mind,  
          Away went our brave Gantheaume;  
          On a journey from Brest to Bertheaume,  
          And then back from Bertheaume to Brest!"  







      Gantheaume's hesitation, his frequent tergiversations, his arrival at
      Toulon, his tardy departure, and his return to that port on the 19th of
      February 1801, only ten days prior to Admiral Keith's appearance with Sir
      Ralph Abercromby off Alexandria, completely foiled all the plans which
      Bonaparte had conceived of conveying succour and reinforcements to a
      colony on the brink of destruction.
    
Gantheaume's uncertainty, his constant changes of mind, his arrival in Toulon, his late departure, and his return to that port on February 19, 1801, just ten days before Admiral Keith showed up with Sir Ralph Abercromby near Alexandria, completely disrupted all the plans Bonaparte had made to send help and reinforcements to a colony that was on the verge of collapse.







      Bonaparte was then dreaming that many French families would carry back
      civilisation, science, and art to that country which was their cradle. But
      it could not be concealed that his departure from Egypt in 1799 had
      prepared the way for the loss of that country, which was hastened by
      Kléber's death and the choice of Menou as his successor.
    
Bonaparte was then envisioning that many French families would bring back civilization, science, and art to the land that was their homeland. However, it was clear that his leaving Egypt in 1799 had set the stage for the loss of that country, a process that accelerated with Kléber's death and the decision to appoint Menou as his successor.







      A sure way of paying court to the First Consul and gaining his favour was
      to eulogise his views about Egypt, and to appear zealous for maintaining
      the possession of that country. By these means it was that Menou gained
      his confidence. In the first year of the occupation of that country he
      laid before him his dreams respecting Africa. He spoke of the negroes of
      Senegal, Mozambique, Mehedie, Marabout, and other barbarous countries
      which were all at once to assume a new aspect, and become civilised, in
      consequence of the French possession of Egypt. To Menou's adulation is to
      be attributed the favourable reception given him by the First Consul, even
      after his return from Egypt, of which his foolish conduct had allowed the
      English to get possession. The First Consul appointed him Governor of
      Piedmont, and at my request gave my elder brother the situation of
      Commissary-General of Police in that country; but I am in candour obliged
      to confess that the First Consul was obliged to retract this mark of his
      favour in consequence of my brother's making an abuse of it.
    
A sure way to win the favor of the First Consul was to praise his views on Egypt and show enthusiasm for keeping control of that country. That's how Menou earned his trust. In the first year of the occupation, he shared his visions about Africa with him. He talked about the people of Senegal, Mozambique, Mehedie, Marabout, and other remote regions that would suddenly transform and become civilized due to French control of Egypt. Menou's flattery is what led to the positive reception he received from the First Consul, even after his return from Egypt, where his reckless actions had allowed the English to take over. The First Consul appointed him Governor of Piedmont, and at my request, he gave my older brother the position of Commissary-General of Police there; however, I must honestly admit that the First Consul had to take back this gesture of goodwill due to my brother's abuse of it.







      It was also by flattering the First Consul on the question of the East
      that Davoust, on his return from Egypt in 1800 in consequence of the
      Convention of El-Ariah, insinuated himself into Bonaparte's good graces
      and, if he did not deserve, obtained his favour. At that time Davoust
      certainly had no title whatever to the good fortune which he suddenly
      experienced. He obtained, without first serving in a subordinate rank, the
      command-in-chief of the grenadiers of the Consular Guard; and from that
      time commenced the deadly hatred which Davoust bore towards me. Astonished
      at the great length of time that Bonaparte had been one day conversing
      with him I said, as soon as he was gone, "How could you talk so long with
      a man whom you have always called a stupid fellow?"—"Ah! but I did
      not know him well enough before. He is a better man, I assure you, than he
      is thought; and you will come over to my opinion."—"I hope so." The
      First Consul, who was often extremely indiscreet, told Davoust my opinion
      of him, and his hostility against me ceased but with his life.
    
By flattering the First Consul about the East, Davoust managed to win over Bonaparte when he returned from Egypt in 1800 after the Convention of El-Ariah, securing his favor even if he didn't truly deserve it. At that point, Davoust had no real claim to the sudden luck he experienced. He was given the command of the grenadiers of the Consular Guard without first serving in a lower position, and that was when his intense hatred for me began. When I saw how long Bonaparte had been talking to him, I remarked after he left, "How could you talk to someone you’ve always called a fool for so long?"—"Ah! I didn’t know him well enough before. He's a better person than people think, and you’ll see it my way soon."—"I hope so." The First Consul, who was often quite indiscreet, shared my opinion about Davoust with him, and his hostility towards me only ended with his life.







      The First Consul could not forget his cherished conquest in the East. It
      was constantly the object of his thoughts. He endeavoured to send
      reinforcements to his army from Brest and Toulon, but without success. He
      soon had cause to repent having entrusted to the hands of Menou the
      command-in-chief, to which he became entitled only by seniority, after the
      assassination of Kléber by Soleiman Heleby. But Bonaparte's indignation
      was excited when he became acquainted with Menou's neglect and
      mismanagement, when he saw him giving reins to his passion for reform,
      altering and destroying everything, creating nothing good in its stead,
      and dreaming about forming a land communication with the Hottentots and
      Congo instead of studying how to preserve the country. His pitiful plans
      of defence, which were useless from their want of combination, appeared to
      the First Consul the height of ignorance. Forgetful of all the principles
      of strategy, of which Bonaparte's conduct afforded so many examples, he
      opposed to the landing of Abercromby a few isolated corps, which were
      unable to withstand the enemy's attack, while the English army might have
      been entirely annihilated had all the disposable troops been sent against
      it.
    
The First Consul couldn't stop thinking about his beloved conquest in the East. It was always on his mind. He tried to send reinforcements to his army from Brest and Toulon, but it didn’t work out. He soon regretted giving Menou the command, which he only got because of seniority after Kléber was assassinated by Soleiman Heleby. Bonaparte's anger grew when he learned about Menou's negligence and mismanagement. He saw Menou indulging his desire for reform, changing and destroying everything without creating anything good in its place, and dreaming about establishing a land connection with the Hottentots and Congo instead of figuring out how to hold onto the territory. His pathetic defense plans lacked coordination, which Bonaparte saw as sheer ignorance. Forgetting all the strategic principles Bonaparte exemplified, he sent only a few isolated troops against Abercromby's landing, which couldn't withstand the enemy's assault. Meanwhile, the entire English army could have been wiped out if all available troops had been sent against them.







      The great admiration which Menou expressed at the expedition to Egypt; his
      excessive fondness for that country, the religion of which he had
      ridiculously enough embraced under the name of Abdallah; the efforts he
      made, in his sphere, to preserve the colony; his enthusiasm and blind
      attachment to Bonaparte; the flattering and encouraging accounts he gave
      of the situation of the army, at first had the effect of entirely covering
      Menou's incapacity.
    
The strong admiration that Menou showed for the expedition to Egypt; his intense love for that country, whose religion he absurdly adopted under the name of Abdallah; the efforts he made, in his role, to protect the colony; his enthusiasm and blind loyalty to Bonaparte; the flattering and supportive reports he provided about the army’s situation, initially completely concealed Menou's incompetence.






 —[For a ludicrous description of Menou see the Memoirs of Marmont:—
   "Clever and gay, he was an agreeable talker, but a great liar. He
   was not destitute of some education. His character, one of the
   oddest in the world, came very near to lunacy: Constantly writing,
   always in motion in his room, riding for exercise every day, he was
   never able to start on any necessary of useful journey. . . .
   When, later, Bonaparte, then First Consul, gave him by special
   favour the administration of Piedmont, he put off his departure from
   day to day for six months; and then he only did start because his
   friend Maret himself put him into his carriage, with post-horses
   already harnessed to it. . . . When he left this post they
   found in his cabinet 900 letters which he had not opened. He was an
   eccentric lunatic, amusing enough sometimes, but a curse to
   everything which depended on him." (Memoirs of the Duc de Raguse,
   tome i. p. 410).]— 
—[For a ridiculous description of Menou, see the Memoirs of Marmont:—  
   "Smart and cheerful, he was a pleasant conversationalist, but a terrible liar. He wasn’t lacking in some education. His personality, one of the strangest in the world, was very close to madness: Constantly writing, always moving around in his room, exercising by riding every day, he never managed to set out on any necessary or useful journey. . . . Later, when Bonaparte, then First Consul, granted him the administration of Piedmont as a special favor, he postponed his departure day after day for six months; and he only left because his friend Maret physically put him in his carriage, with the post-horses already hooked up. . . . When he finished this assignment, they discovered 900 unopened letters in his office. He was an eccentric lunatic, sometimes entertaining, but a disaster for everything that depended on him." (Memoirs of the Duc de Raguse, tome i. p. 410).]— 







      This alone can account for the First Consul's preference of him. But I am
      far from concurring in what has been asserted by many persons, that France
      lost Egypt at the very moment when it seemed most easy of preservation.
      Egypt was conquered by a genius of vast intelligence, great capacity, and
      profound military science. Fatuity, stupidity, and incapacity lost it.
      What was the result of that memorable expedition? The destruction of one
      of our finest armies; the loss of some of our best generals; the
      annihilation of our navy; the surrender of Malta; and the sovereignty of
      England in the Mediterranean. What is the result at present? A scientific
      work. The gossiping stories and mystifications of Herodotus, and the
      reveries of the good Rollin, are worth as much, and have not cost so dear.
    
This alone can explain the First Consul's preference for him. However, I completely disagree with what many people say, that France lost Egypt at the very moment when it seemed easiest to keep it. Egypt was conquered by a leader of immense intelligence, great skills, and deep military knowledge. Foolishness, ignorance, and incompetence caused the loss. What was the outcome of that significant expedition? The destruction of one of our best armies; the loss of some of our top generals; the annihilation of our navy; the surrender of Malta; and England's control over the Mediterranean. What do we have now? A scientific work. The gossip and myths of Herodotus, and the musings of the good Rollin, are just as valuable, and didn't cost as much.







      The First Consul had long been apprehensive that the evacuation of Egypt
      was unavoidable. The last news he had received from that country was not
      very encouraging, and created a presentiment of the approach of the
      dreaded catastrophe. He, however, published the contrary; but it was then
      of great importance that, an account of the evacuation should not reach
      England until the preliminaries of peace were signed, for which purpose M.
      Otto was exerting all his industry and talent. We made a great merit of
      abandoning our conquests in Egypt; but the sacrifice would not have been
      considered great if the events which took place at the end of August had
      been known in London before the signing of the preliminaries on the 1st of
      October. The First Consul himself answered M. Otto's last despatch,
      containing a copy of the preliminaries ready to be adopted by the English
      Ministry. Neither this despatch nor the answer was communicated to M. de
      Talleyrand, then Minister for Foreign Affairs. The First Consul, who
      highly appreciated the great talents and knowledge of that Minister, never
      closed any diplomatic arrangement without first consulting him; and he was
      right in so doing. On this occasion, however, I told him that as M. de
      Talleyrand was, for his health, taking the waters of
      Bourbon-l'Archambault, four days must elapse before his reply could be
      received, and that the delay might cause the face of affairs to change. I
      reminded him that Egypt was on the point of yielding. He took my advice,
      and it was well for him that he did, for the news of the compulsory
      evacuation of Egypt arrived in London the day after the signing of the
      preliminaries. M. Otto informed the First Consul by letter that Lord
      Hawkesbury, ill communicating to him the news of the evacuation, told him
      he was very glad everything was settled, for it would have been impossible
      for him to have treated on the same basis after the arrival of such news.
      In reality we consented at Paris to the voluntary evacuation of Egypt, and
      that was something for England, while Egypt was at that very time
      evacuated by a convention made on the spot. The definitive evacuation of
      Egypt took place on the 30th of August 1801; and thus the conquest of that
      country, which had cost so dear, was rendered useless, or rather
      injurious.
    
The First Consul had long feared that the evacuation of Egypt was unavoidable. The last updates he had received from there were not very encouraging and suggested that the dreaded disaster was approaching. However, he declared the opposite; it was crucial that news of the evacuation did not reach England until the peace preliminaries were signed, which M. Otto was working hard to achieve. We made a big deal out of giving up our conquests in Egypt, but it wouldn't have seemed like such a major sacrifice if the events that happened at the end of August had been known in London before the preliminaries were signed on October 1st. The First Consul himself responded to M. Otto's last dispatch, which included a copy of the preliminaries ready for the English government. Neither this dispatch nor the response was shared with M. de Talleyrand, who was then the Minister for Foreign Affairs. The First Consul, who valued M. de Talleyrand's great skills and knowledge, never finalized any diplomatic agreement without consulting him first; and he was right to do so. However, on this occasion, I told him that since M. de Talleyrand was taking waters at Bourbon-l'Archambault for his health, it would take four days to get his response, and the delay could change things significantly. I reminded him that Egypt was on the verge of surrendering. He took my advice, and it was fortunate that he did, as news of the forced evacuation of Egypt reached London the day after the signing of the preliminaries. M. Otto told the First Consul in a letter that Lord Hawkesbury, while informing him about the evacuation, expressed how glad he was that everything was settled, as it would have been impossible for him to negotiate under the same terms after hearing such news. In fact, we agreed in Paris to the voluntary evacuation of Egypt, which was a concession for England, even though Egypt was simultaneously being evacuated through an agreement made on-site. The definitive evacuation of Egypt occurred on August 30, 1801, thus rendering the costly conquest of that country ineffective, or rather detrimental.








 


 




















      CHAPTER VII.
    



      1802.
    
1802.


   The most glorious epoch for France—The First Consul's desire of
   peace—Malta ceded and kept—Bonaparte and the English journals—
   Mr. Addington's letter to the First Consul—Bonaparte prosecutes
   Peltier—Leclerc's expedition to St. Domingo—Toussaint Louverture—
   Death of Leclerc—Rochambeau, his successor, abandons St. Domingo—
   First symptoms of Bonaparte's malady—Josephine's intrigues for the
   marriage of Hortense—Falsehood contradicted.

   The most glorious time for France—The First Consul's wish for peace—Malta given up and retained—Bonaparte and the English newspapers—Mr. Addington's letter to the First Consul—Bonaparte takes legal action against Peltier—Leclerc's mission to St. Domingo—Toussaint Louverture—Leclerc's death—Rochambeau, his successor, leaves St. Domingo—First signs of Bonaparte's illness—Josephine's schemes for Hortense's marriage—Falsehood disproven.







      The epoch of the peace of Amiens must be considered as the most glorious
      in the history of France, not excepting the splendid period of Louis
      XIV.'s victories and the more brilliant era of the Empire. The Consular
      glory was then pure, and the opening prospect was full of flattering hope;
      whereas those who were but little accustomed to look closely into things
      could discern mighty disasters lurking under the laurels of the Empire.
    
The time of the peace of Amiens should be seen as the most glorious in France's history, even more so than the impressive period of Louis XIV's victories and the brighter time of the Empire. The glory of the Consulate was genuine, and the future seemed full of promising hope; meanwhile, those who weren't used to examining things closely could see that major disasters were hiding beneath the Empire's successes.







      The proposals which the First Consul made in order to obtain peace
      sufficiently prove his sincere desire for it. He felt that if in the
      commencement of his administration he could couple his name with so hoped
      for an act he should ever experience the affection and gratitude of the
      French. I want no other proof of his sentiments than the offer he made to
      give up Egypt to the Grand Seignior, and to restore all the ports of the
      Gulf of Venice and of the Mediterranean to the States to which they had
      previously belonged; to surrender Malta to the order of the Knights of St.
      John, and even to raze its fortifications if England should think such a
      measure necessary for her interests. In the Indies, Ceylon was to be left
      to him,
    
The proposals that the First Consul made to secure peace clearly show his genuine desire for it. He believed that if he could associate his name with such a long-awaited act at the beginning of his administration, he would earn the love and gratitude of the French people. I need no other evidence of his feelings than his offer to give up Egypt to the Grand Seignior and to return all the ports in the Gulf of Venice and the Mediterranean to their previous owners; to hand Malta over to the Knights of St. John and even to demolish its fortifications if England deemed it necessary for her interests. In the Indies, Ceylon was to be left to him,






 —[Ceylon belonged to Holland, but was retained by England under the
   treaty of Amiens.]— 
 —[Ceylon was owned by Holland, but England kept it under the treaty of Amiens.]—







      and he required the surrender of the Cape of Good Hope and all the places
      taken by the English in the West Indies.
    
and he demanded the handover of the Cape of Good Hope and all the locations captured by the English in the West Indies.







      England had firmly resolved to keep Malta, the Gibraltar of the
      Mediterranean, and the Cape of Good Hope, the caravanserai of the Indies.
      She was therefore unwilling to close with the proposition respecting
      Malta; and she said that an arrangement might be made by which it would be
      rendered independent both of Great Britain and France. We clearly saw that
      this was only a lure, and that, whatever arrangements might be entered
      into, England would keep Malta, because it was not to be expected that the
      maritime power would willingly surrender an island which commands the
      Mediterranean. I do not notice the discussions respecting the American
      islands, for they were, in my opinion, of little consequence to us.
    
England was determined to hold onto Malta, the Gibraltar of the Mediterranean, and the Cape of Good Hope, the hub of the Indies. She was therefore hesitant to agree to the proposal regarding Malta and suggested that an arrangement could be made to make it independent of both Great Britain and France. We clearly saw this as a trick, and that no matter what agreements were made, England would keep Malta, since it was unlikely that the maritime power would willingly give up an island that controls the Mediterranean. I won’t mention the discussions about the American islands, as I believe they were not very important to us.






 —[It is strange that Bourrienne does not allude to one of the first
   arbitrary acts of Napoleon, the discussions on which formed part of
   those conversations between Napoleon and his brother Lucien of which
   Bourrienne complained to Josephine he knew nothing. In 1763 France
   had ceded to England the part of Louisiana on the east of the
   Mississippi, and the part on the west of that river, with New
   Orleans, to Spain. By the treaty negotiated with Spain by Lucien
   Bonaparte in 1800 her share was given back to France. On the 80th
   April 1803 Napoleon sold the whole to the United States for
   80,000,000 francs (L 3,260,000), to the intense anger of his
   brothers Joseph and Lucien. Lucien was especially proud of having
   obtained the cession for which Napoleon was, at that time, very
   anxious; but both brothers were horrified when Napoleon disclosed
   how little he cared for constitutional forms by telling them that if
   the Legislature, as his brothers threatened, would not ratify the
   treaty, he would do without the ratification; see Iung's Letter,
   tome ii. p. 128.

   Napoleon's most obvious motives were want of money and the certainty
   of the seizure of the province by England, as the rupture with her
   was now certain. But there was perhaps another cause. The States
   had already been on the point of seizing the province from Spain,
   which had interfered with their trade (Hinton's United States, p.
   435, and Thiers tome iv, p. 320).

   Of the sum to be paid, 20,000,000 were to go to the States, to cover
   the illegal seizures of American ships by the French navy, a matter
   which was not settled for many years later. The remaining
   80,000,000 were employed in the preparations for the invasion of
   England; see Thiers, tome iv. pp. 320 and 326, and Lanfrey, tome
   iii. p. 48. The transaction is a remarkable one, as forming the
   final withdrawal of France from North America (with the exception of
   some islands on the Newfoundland coast), where she had once held
   such a proud position. It also eventually made an addition to the
   number of slave States.]— 
 —[It’s odd that Bourrienne doesn’t mention one of Napoleon’s first arbitrary acts, which was part of the conversations between Napoleon and his brother Lucien, about which Bourrienne complained to Josephine that he knew nothing. In 1763, France ceded the eastern part of Louisiana to England and the western part, along with New Orleans, to Spain. By the treaty negotiated with Spain by Lucien Bonaparte in 1800, that territory was returned to France. On April 30, 1803, Napoleon sold the entire area to the United States for 80,000,000 francs (£3,260,000), infuriating his brothers Joseph and Lucien. Lucien particularly took pride in securing the territory, which Napoleon desperately wanted; however, both brothers were appalled when Napoleon revealed how little he valued constitutional processes by stating that if the Legislature, as his brothers threatened, refused to ratify the treaty, he would proceed without it; see Iung's Letter, tome ii. p. 128.

   Napoleon's main motivations were financial need and the certainty that England would seize the territory, as a break with them was now inevitable. However, there may have been another reason. The United States had nearly captured the province from Spain, which had disrupted their trade (Hinton's United States, p. 435, and Thiers tome iv, p. 320).

   Of the total payment, 20,000,000 was allocated to the United States to cover the illegal seizures of American ships by the French navy, an issue that remained unresolved for many years. The remaining 80,000,000 was used to prepare for the invasion of England; see Thiers, tome iv. pp. 320 and 326, and Lanfrey, tome iii. p. 48. This transaction is significant as it marked France's final retreat from North America (aside from a few islands off the coast of Newfoundland), where it once had a strong presence. It also ultimately contributed to an increase in the number of slave States.]—







      They cost more than they produce; and they will escape from us, some time
      or other, as all colonies ultimately do from the parent country. Our whole
      colonial system is absurd; it forces us to pay for colonial produce at a
      rate nearly double that for which it may be purchased from our neighbours.
    
They cost more than they bring in; and at some point, they will break away from us, just like all colonies eventually do from their parent country. Our entire colonial system is ridiculous; it makes us pay for goods from the colonies at almost twice the price we could pay from our neighbors.







      When Lord Hawkesbury consented to evacuate Malta, on condition that it
      should be independent of France and Great Britain, he must have been aware
      that such a condition would never be fulfilled. He cared little for the
      order of St. John, and he should have put, by way of postscript, at the
      bottom of his note, "We will keep Malta in spite of you." I always told
      the First Consul that if he were in the situation of the English he would
      act the same part; and it did not require much sagacity to foretell that
      Malta would be the principal cause of the rupture of peace. He was of my
      opinion; but at that moment he thought everything depended on concluding
      the negotiations, and I entirely agreed with him. It happened, as was
      foreseen, that Malta caused the renewal of war. The English, on being
      called upon to surrender the island, eluded the demand, shifted about, and
      at last ended by demanding that Malta should be placed under the
      protection of the King of Naples,—that is to say, under the
      protection of a power entirely at their command, and to which they might
      dictate what they pleased. This was really too cool a piece of irony!
    
When Lord Hawkesbury agreed to evacuate Malta on the condition that it would be independent of France and Great Britain, he must have known that this condition would never be met. He didn’t care much for the order of St. John, and he should have added, as a footnote at the end of his note, "We will keep Malta despite you." I always told the First Consul that if he were in the English's position, he would act the same way; it didn’t take much insight to predict that Malta would be the main reason for the breakdown of peace. He agreed with me, but at that moment, he thought everything depended on finalizing the negotiations, and I completely agreed with him. As expected, Malta was the catalyst for the return to war. When the English were asked to hand over the island, they dodged the request, stalled, and eventually ended up demanding that Malta be placed under the protection of the King of Naples—which meant it would be under the protection of a power completely under their control, where they could dictate terms as they pleased. That was quite an outrageous piece of irony!







      I will here notice the quarrel between the First Consul and the English
      newspapers, and give a new proof of his views concerning the freedom of
      the press. However, liberty of the press did once contribute to give him
      infinite gratification, namely, when all the London journals mentioned the
      transports of joy manifested in London on the arrival of General
      Lauriston, the bearer of the ratification of the preliminaries of peace.
    
I will address the conflict between the First Consul and the English newspapers and provide further evidence of his opinions on press freedom. However, the freedom of the press did once bring him immense satisfaction, specifically when all the London papers reported on the joyful celebrations in London following the arrival of General Lauriston, who brought the ratification of the preliminary peace agreements.







      The First Consul was at all times the declared enemy of the liberty of the
      press, and therefore he ruled the journals with a hand of iron.
    
The First Consul was always the open enemy of press freedom, so he controlled the newspapers with an iron fist.






 —[An incident, illustrative of the great irritation which Bonaparte
   felt at the plain speaking of the English press, also shows the
   important character of Coleridge's writings in the 'Morning Post'.
   In the course of a debate in the House of Commons Fox asserted that
   the rupture of the Peace of Amiens had its origin in certain essays
   which had appeared in the Morning POST, and which were known to have
   proceeded from the pen of Coleridge. But Fox added an ungenerous
   and malicious hint that the writer was at Rome, within the reach of
   Bonaparte. The information reached the ears for which it was
   uttered, and an order was sent from Paris to compass the arrest of
   Coleridge. It was in the year 1806, when the poet was making a tour
   in Italy. The news reached him at Naples, through a brother of the
   illustrious Humboldt, as Mr. Gillman says—or in a friendly warning
   from Prince Jerome Bonaparte, as we have it on the authority of Mr.
   Cottle—and the Pope appears to have been reluctant to have a hand
   in the business, and, in fact, to have furnished him with a
   passport, if not with a carriage for flight, Coleridge eventually
   got to Leghorn, where he got a passage by an American ship bound for
   England; but his escape coming to the ears of Bonaparte, a look-out
   was kept for the ship, and she was chased by a French cruiser, which
   threw the captain into such a state of terror that he made Coleridge
   throw all his journals and papers overboard (Andrews' History of
   Journalism, vol. ii. p. 28).]— 
 —[An incident that illustrates the significant irritation Bonaparte felt about the straightforward reporting of the English press also highlights the importance of Coleridge's writings in the 'Morning Post'. During a debate in the House of Commons, Fox claimed that the breakdown of the Peace of Amiens was rooted in several essays published in the Morning POST, known to be written by Coleridge. However, Fox also made an unkind and spiteful suggestion that the writer was in Rome, where Bonaparte could reach him. This information reached its intended audience, leading to an order from Paris to arrest Coleridge. It was in 1806 when the poet was traveling in Italy. He learned of this in Naples, either through a brother of the famous Humboldt, as Mr. Gillman states, or from a friendly warning from Prince Jerome Bonaparte, according to Mr. Cottle. The Pope seemed hesitant to get involved, and reportedly provided Coleridge with a passport, and perhaps even a carriage for his escape. Ultimately, Coleridge made it to Leghorn, where he secured a spot on an American ship heading for England. However, word of his escape reached Bonaparte, and the ship was pursued by a French cruiser, causing the captain to panic and order Coleridge to throw all his journals and papers overboard (Andrews' History of Journalism, vol. ii. p. 28).]—







      I have often heard him say, "Were I to slacken the reins, I should not
      continue three months in power." He unfortunately held the same opinion
      respecting every other prerogative of public freedom. The silence he had
      imposed in France he wished, if he could, to impose in England. He was
      irritated by the calumnies and libels so liberally cast upon him by the
      English journals, and especially by one written in French, called
      'L'Ambigu', conducted by Peltier, who had been the editor of the 'Actes
      des Apotres' in Paris. The 'Ambigu' was constantly teeming with the most
      violent attacks on the First Consul and the French nation. Bonaparte could
      never, like the English, bring himself to despise newspaper libels, and he
      revenged himself by violent articles which he caused to be inserted in the
      'Moniteur'. He directed M. Otto to remonstrate, in an official note,
      against a system of calumny which he believed to be authorised by the
      English Government. Besides this official proceeding he applied personally
      to Mr. Addington, the Chancellor of the Exchequer, requesting him to
      procure the adoption of legislative measures against the licentious
      writings complained of; and, to take the earliest opportunity of
      satisfying his hatred against the liberty of the press, the First Consul
      seized the moment of signing the preliminaries to make this request.
    
I’ve often heard him say, “If I loosen the reins, I won’t last three months in power.” Unfortunately, he had the same view about every other aspect of public freedom. The silence he imposed in France was something he wished he could impose in England too. He was frustrated by the slanders and libels that were thrown at him by English newspapers, especially one in French called 'L'Ambigu', run by Peltier, who had previously been the editor of 'Actes des Apotres' in Paris. 'L'Ambigu' was always filled with the most aggressive attacks on the First Consul and the French nation. Bonaparte could never, like the English, bring himself to disregard newspaper libels, and he retaliated with harsh articles that he had published in the 'Moniteur'. He instructed M. Otto to formally protest against a system of slander, which he believed was sanctioned by the English Government. In addition to this official action, he personally approached Mr. Addington, the Chancellor of the Exchequer, asking him to help push through legislative measures against the objectionable writings. And to take advantage of the opportunity to express his disdain for press freedom, the First Consul seized the moment of signing the preliminaries to make this request.







      Mr. Addington wrote a long answer to the First Consul, which I translated
      for him. The English Minister refuted, with great force, all the arguments
      which Bonaparte had employed against the press. He also informed the First
      Consul that, though a foreigner, it was competent in him to institute a
      complaint in the courts of law; but that in such case he must be content
      to see all the scandalous statements of which he complained republished in
      the report of the trial. He advised him to treat the libels with profound
      contempt, and do as he and others did, who attached not the slightest
      importance to them. I congratulate myself on having in some degree
      prevented a trial taking place at that time.
    
Mr. Addington wrote a long response to the First Consul, which I translated for him. The English Minister strongly countered all the arguments Bonaparte had used against the press. He also informed the First Consul that, even as a foreigner, he had the right to file a complaint in court; however, he would need to accept that all the scandalous claims he complained about would be republished in the trial report. He advised him to treat the libel claims with complete disdain and to act like he and others did, who did not give them any importance. I feel proud that I helped prevent a trial from happening at that time.







      Things remained in this state for the moment; but after the peace of
      Amiens the First Consul prosecuted Pettier, whose journal was always full
      of violence and bitterness against him. Pettier was defended by the
      celebrated Mackintosh, who, according to the accounts of the time,
      displayed great eloquence on this occasion, yet, in spite of the ability
      of his counsel, he was convicted. The verdict, which public opinion
      considered in the light of a triumph for the defendant, was not followed
      up by any judgment, in consequence of the rupture of the peace occurring
      soon after. It is melancholy to reflect that this nervous susceptibility
      to the libels of the English papers contributed certainly as much as, and
      perhaps more than, the consideration of great political interests to the
      renewal of hostilities. The public would be astonished at a great many
      things if they could only look under the cards.
    
Things stayed like this for now; but after the peace of Amiens, the First Consul went after Pettier, whose journal was consistently full of hostility and bitterness towards him. Pettier was defended by the famous Mackintosh, who, according to reports of the time, showed great eloquence on this occasion. Yet, despite his lawyer's skills, Pettier was convicted. The verdict, which the public viewed as a victory for the defendant, was not followed by any sentence due to the breakdown of the peace happening soon after. It's disheartening to think that this sensitivity to the slander from English newspapers contributed just as much, and maybe even more than, the consideration of significant political interests to the restart of hostilities. The public would be shocked by many things if they only knew the whole story.







      I have anticipated the rupture of the treaty of Amiens that I might not
      interrupt what I had to mention respecting Bonaparte's hatred of the
      liberty of the press. I now return to the end of the year 1801, the period
      of the expedition against St. Domingo.
    
I have anticipated the breaking of the treaty of Amiens so I wouldn't disrupt what I needed to say about Bonaparte's disdain for press freedom. Now, I return to the end of 1801, during the time of the expedition against St. Domingo.







      The First Consul, after dictating to me during nearly: the whole of one
      night instructions for that expedition, sent for General Leclerc, and said
      to him in my presence, "Here, take your instructions; you have a fine
      opportunity for filling your purse. Go, and no longer tease me with your
      eternal requests for money." The friendship which Bonaparte felt for his
      sister Pauline had a good deal of influence in inducing him to take this
      liberal way of enriching her husband.
    
The First Consul, after giving me instructions for that expedition nearly all night, called General Leclerc over and said in front of me, "Here, take your instructions; you have a great chance to make some money. Go, and stop bothering me with your constant requests for cash." Bonaparte's affection for his sister Pauline had a significant impact on his decision to generously support her husband.







      The expedition left the ports of France on the 14th of December 1801, and
      arrived off Cape St. Domingo on the 1st of February 1802. The fatal result
      of the enterprise is well known, but we are never to be cured of the folly
      of such absurd expeditions. In the instructions given to Leclerc
      everything was foreseen; but it was painful to know that the choice of one
      of the youngest and least capable of all the generals of the army left no
      hope of a successful result. The expedition to St. Domingo was one of
      Bonaparte's great errors. Almost every person whom he consulted
      endeavoured to dissuade him from it. He attempted a justification through
      the medium of his historians of St. Helena; but does he succeed when he
      says, "that he was obliged to yield to the advice of his Council of
      State?" He, truly, was a likely man to submit a question of war to the
      discussion of the Council of State, or to be guided in such an affair by
      any Council! We must believe that no other motive influenced the First
      Consul but the wish, by giving him the means of enriching himself, to get
      rid of a brother-in-law who had the gift of specially annoying him. The
      First Consul, who did not really much like this expedition, should have
      perhaps reflected longer on the difficulties of attempting to subdue the
      colony by force. He was shaken by this argument, which I often repeated to
      him, and he agreed with it, but the inconceivable influence which the
      members of his family exercised on him always overcame him.
    
The expedition left the ports of France on December 14, 1801, and arrived off Cape St. Domingo on February 1, 1802. The tragic outcome of this mission is well known, but we can't seem to learn from the foolishness of such ridiculous ventures. In the instructions given to Leclerc, everything was taken into account; however, it was disappointing to realize that choosing one of the youngest and least capable generals left no hope for success. The expedition to St. Domingo was one of Bonaparte's major mistakes. Almost everyone he consulted tried to talk him out of it. He tried to justify his action through his historians on St. Helena, but does he really succeed when he claims, "that he had to yield to the advice of his Council of State?" He was certainly not the type to submit a question of war to the Council of State for discussion or let any council guide him in such matters! We must believe that the only motive driving the First Consul was his desire to enrich himself by getting rid of a brother-in-law who had a knack for irritating him. The First Consul, who wasn't particularly fond of this expedition, should have taken more time to consider the challenges of trying to conquer the colony by force. He was swayed by this idea, which I often reminded him of, and he agreed, but the overwhelming influence of his family members always got the better of him.







      Bonaparte dictated to me a letter for Toussaint, full of sounding words
      and fine promises, informing him that his two children, who had been
      educated in Paris, were sent back to him, offering him the title of
      vice-governor, and stating that he ought readily to assist in an
      arrangement which would contribute to reconnect the colony with the
      mother-country. Toussaint, who had at first shown a disposition to close
      with the bargain, yet feeling afraid of being deceived by the French, and
      probably induced by ambitious motives, resolved on war. He displayed a
      great deal of talent; but, being attacked before the climate had thinned
      the French ranks, he was unable to oppose a fresh army, numerous and
      inured to war. He capitulated, and retired to a plantation, which he was
      not to leave without Leclerc's permission. A feigned conspiracy on the
      part of the blacks formed a pretence for accusing Toussaint, and he was
      seized and sent to France.
    
Bonaparte dictated a letter to me for Toussaint, filled with impressive language and nice promises. It informed him that his two children, who had been educated in Paris, were being sent back to him, offered him the title of vice-governor, and said that he should be willing to help with an arrangement that would help reconnect the colony with the mother country. At first, Toussaint was inclined to accept the offer, but feeling wary of being tricked by the French, and likely driven by his own ambitions, he decided to go to war. He showed a lot of skill, but since he was attacked before the climate had reduced the French forces, he was unable to face a fresh, well-trained army. He surrendered and retired to a plantation, which he was not allowed to leave without Leclerc's permission. A fake conspiracy involving the black community was used as an excuse to accuse Toussaint, and he was captured and sent to France.







      Toussaint was brought to Paris in the beginning of August. He was sent, in
      the first instance, to the Temple, whence he was removed to the Chateau de
      Joux. His imprisonment was rigorous; few comforts were allowed him. This
      treatment, his recollection of the past, his separation from the world,
      and the effects of a strange climate, accelerated his death, which took
      place a few months after his arrival in France. The reports which spread
      concerning his death, the assertion that it was not a natural one, and
      that it had been caused by poison, obtained no credit. I should add that
      Toussaint wrote a letter to Bonaparte; but I never saw in it the
      expression attributed to him, "The first man of the blacks to the first
      man of the whites" Bonaparte acknowledged that the black leader possessed
      energy, courage, and great skill. I am sure that he would have rejoiced if
      the result of his relations with St. Domingo had been something else than
      the kidnaping and transportation of Toussaint.
    
Toussaint was brought to Paris at the beginning of August. Initially, he was sent to the Temple, and then he was moved to the Chateau de Joux. His imprisonment was harsh; he was given very few comforts. This treatment, along with his memories of the past, isolation from the world, and the effects of an unfamiliar climate, hastened his death, which occurred a few months after he arrived in France. The rumors that circulated about his death, claiming it was not natural and that poison was involved, were not taken seriously. I should mention that Toussaint wrote a letter to Bonaparte, but I never saw the phrase attributed to him, "The first man of the blacks to the first man of the whites." Bonaparte admitted that the black leader had energy, courage, and great skill. I'm sure he would have been pleased if his interactions with St. Domingo had led to something other than the kidnapping and transport of Toussaint.







      Leclerc, after fruitless efforts to conquer the colony, was himself
      carried off by the yellow fever. Rochambeau succeeded him by right of
      seniority, and was as unsuccessful as Menou had been in Egypt. The
      submission of the blacks, which could only have been obtained by
      conciliation, he endeavoured to compel by violence. At last, in December
      1803, he surrendered to an English squadron, and abandoned the island to
      Dessalines.
    
Leclerc, after unsuccessful attempts to take over the colony, fell victim to yellow fever himself. Rochambeau took over due to seniority and did not fare any better than Menou had in Egypt. He tried to force the submission of the Black population, which could only have been achieved through reconciliation, using violence instead. Finally, in December 1803, he surrendered to a British squadron and left the island to Dessalines.







      Bonaparte often experienced severe bodily pain, and I have now little
      doubt, from the nature of his sufferings, that they were occasioned by the
      commencement of that malady which terminated his life at St. Helena. These
      pains, of which he frequently complained, affected him most acutely on the
      night when he dictated to me the instructions for General Leclerc. It was
      very late when I conducted him to his apartment. We had just been taking a
      cup of chocolate, a beverage of which we always partook when our business
      lasted longer than one o'clock in the morning. He never took a light with
      him when he went up to his bedroom. I gave him my arm, and we had scarcely
      got beyond the little staircase which leads to the corridor, when he was
      rudely run against by a man who was endeavouring to escape as quickly as
      possible by the staircase. The First Consul did not fall because I
      supported him. We soon gained his chamber, where we, found Josephine, who,
      having heard the noise, awoke greatly alarmed. From the investigations
      which were immediately made it appeared that the uproar was occasioned by
      a fellow who had been keeping an assignation and had exceeded the usual
      hour for his departure.
    
Bonaparte often suffered from intense physical pain, and I have little doubt, based on the nature of his discomfort, that it was the start of the illness that ultimately led to his death at St. Helena. He frequently complained about these pains, which hit him hardest on the night when he dictated the instructions for General Leclerc. It was very late when I escorted him to his room. We had just enjoyed a cup of chocolate, a drink we always took when our work went past one o'clock in the morning. He never took a light with him when he went upstairs to his bedroom. I offered him my arm, and we had barely made it beyond the small staircase leading to the corridor when a man rushed past us, trying to escape as quickly as possible down the stairs. The First Consul didn't fall because I was supporting him. We soon reached his chamber, where we found Josephine, who had been startled awake by the commotion. From the immediate investigations, it turned out that the noise was caused by a guy who had been on a date and had overstayed his welcome.







      On the 7th of January 1802 Mademoiselle Hortense was married to Louis
      Bonaparte. As the custom was not yet resumed of adding the religious
      ceremony to the civil contract, the nuptial benediction was on this
      occasion privately given by a priest at the house Rue de la Victoire.
      Bonaparte also caused the marriage of his sister Caroline,—[The wife
      of Murat, and the cleverest of Bonaparte's sisters.]—which had taken
      place two years earlier before a mayor, to be consecrated in the same
      manner; but he and his wife did not follow the example. Had he already,
      then, an idea of separating from Josephine, and therefore an unwillingness
      to render a divorce more difficult by giving his marriage a religious
      sanction? I am rather inclined to think, from what he said to me, that his
      neglecting to take a part in the religious ceremony arose from
      indifference.
    
On January 7, 1802, Mademoiselle Hortense married Louis Bonaparte. Since it was not yet common to add a religious ceremony to the civil contract, the wedding blessing was privately given by a priest at their home on Rue de la Victoire. Bonaparte also arranged for his sister Caroline’s marriage—[She was the wife of Murat and the smartest of Bonaparte's sisters.]—which had happened two years earlier before a mayor, to be blessed in a similar way; however, he and his wife chose not to follow suit. Did he already have thoughts of separating from Josephine, and was this reluctance to complicate a potential divorce by giving his marriage a religious approval? From what he told me, I tend to think his decision not to participate in the religious ceremony came from indifference.







      Bonaparte said at St. Helena, speaking of Louis and Hortense, that "they
      loved each other when they married: they desired to be united. The
      marriage was also the result of Josephine's intrigues, who found her
      account in it." I will state the real facts. Louis and Hortense did not
      love one another at all. That is certain. The First Consul knew it, just
      as he well knew that Hortense had a great inclination for Duroc, who did
      not fully return it. The First Consul agreed to their union, but Josephine
      was troubled by such a marriage, and did all she could to prevent it. She
      often spoke to me about it, but rather late in the day. She told me that
      her brothers-in law were her declared enemies, that I well knew their
      intrigues, and that I well knew there was no end to the annoyances they
      made her undergo. In fact, I did know all this perfectly. She kept on
      repeating to me that with this projected marriage she would not have any
      support; that Duroc was nothing except by the favour of Bonaparte; that he
      had neither fortune, fame, nor reputation, and that he could be no help to
      her against the well-known ill-will of the brothers of Bonaparte. She
      wanted some assurance for the future. She added that her husband was very
      fond of Louis, and that if she had the good fortune to unite him to her
      daughter this would be a counterpoise to the calumnies and persecutions of
      her other brothers-in-law. I answered her that she had concealed her
      intentions too long from me, and that I had promised my services to the
      young people, and the more willingly as I knew the favourable opinion of
      the First Consul, who had often said to me, "My wife has done well; they
      suit one another, they shall marry one another. I like Duroc; he is of
      good family. I have rightly given Caroline to Murat, and Pauline to
      Leclerc, and I can well give Hortense to Duroc, who is a fine fellow. He
      is worth more than the others. He is now general of a division there is
      nothing against this marriage. Besides, I have other plans for Louis." In
      speaking to Madame Bonaparte I added that her daughter burst into tears
      when spoken to about her marriage with Louis.
    
Bonaparte said at St. Helena, referring to Louis and Hortense, that "they loved each other when they married: they wanted to be together. The marriage was also the result of Josephine's scheming, which benefited her." Let me share the truth. Louis and Hortense didn't love each other at all. That's a fact. The First Consul was aware of this, just as he knew that Hortense had a strong attraction to Duroc, who didn’t fully reciprocate her feelings. The First Consul approved their union, but Josephine was worried about such a marriage and did everything she could to stop it. She often talked to me about it, but it was rather late to be addressing the issue. She told me that her brothers-in-law were her open enemies, and I knew well about their schemes and the endless troubles they caused her. In truth, I was fully aware of all this. She kept insisting that with this planned marriage, she wouldn’t have any support; that Duroc was only someone because of Bonaparte’s favor; that he had no wealth, fame, or reputation, and that he wouldn’t be any help to her against her brothers-in-law's known hostility. She wanted some security for the future. She also mentioned that her husband cared a lot for Louis, and that if she could successfully connect him with her daughter, it would balance out the slander and harassment from her other brothers-in-law. I told her that she had kept her intentions from me for too long and that I had already promised my assistance to the young couple, especially since I knew the First Consul viewed it positively. He had often said to me, "My wife has done well; they are a good match, they should marry. I like Duroc; he comes from a good family. I have rightly given Caroline to Murat and Pauline to Leclerc, and I can certainly give Hortense to Duroc, who is a great guy. He is worth more than the others. He’s now a division general; there's nothing wrong with this marriage. Besides, I have other plans for Louis." When speaking to Madame Bonaparte, I added that her daughter broke down in tears when the topic of her marriage to Louis came up.







      The First Consul had sent a brevet of general of division to Duroc by a
      special courier, who went to Holland, through which the newly-made general
      had to pass on his return from St. Petersburg, where, as I have already
      said, he had been sent to compliment the Emperor Alexander on his
      accession to the throne. The First Consul probably paid this compliment to
      Duroc in the belief that the marriage would take place.
    
The First Consul had sent a promotion to Duroc as a division general through a special courier, who traveled to Holland, which Duroc had to pass through on his way back from St. Petersburg. As I mentioned before, he went there to congratulate Emperor Alexander on becoming king. The First Consul likely extended this honor to Duroc thinking that the marriage would happen.







      During Duroc's absence the correspondence of the lovers passed, by their
      consent, through my hands. Every night I used to make one in a party at
      billiards, at which Hortense played very well. When I told her, in a
      whisper, that I had got a letter for her, she would immediately leave off
      playing and run to her chamber, where I followed and gave her Duroc's
      epistle. When she opened it her eyes would fill with tears, and it was
      some time before she could return to the salon. All was useless for her.
      Josephine required a support in the family against the family. Seeing her
      firm resolution, I promised to no longer oppose her wishes, which I could
      not disapprove, but I told her I could only maintain silence and
      neutrality in these little debates, and she seemed satisfied.
    
During Duroc's absence, the lovers' letters went through me, with their consent. Every night, I would join a billiards game, where Hortense played very well. When I whispered to her that I had a letter for her, she would immediately stop playing and rush to her room, with me following to give her Duroc's letter. When she opened it, tears would fill her eyes, and it would take her some time to return to the living room. It was all in vain for her. Josephine needed someone in the family to support her against the family. Seeing her determination, I promised to stop opposing her wishes, which I couldn't disagree with, but I told her I could only remain silent and neutral in these little disputes, and she seemed satisfied.







      When we were at Malmaison those intrigues continued. At the Tuileries the
      same conduct was pursued, but then the probability of success was on
      Duroc's side; I even congratulated him on his prospects, but he received
      my compliments in a very cold manner. In a few days after Josephine
      succeeded in changing the whole face of affairs. Her heart was entirely
      set on the marriage of Louis with her daughter; and prayers, entreaties,
      caresses, and all those little arts which she so well knew how to use,
      were employed to win the First Consul to her purpose.
    
When we were at Malmaison, those intrigues kept going. At the Tuileries, the same behavior continued, but this time Duroc had a better chance of success. I even congratulated him on his prospects, but he accepted my compliments in a pretty cold way. A few days later, Josephine managed to completely change the situation. She was fully focused on getting Louis to marry her daughter; using prayers, pleas, affection, and all those little tricks she was so good at, she aimed to persuade the First Consul to support her plan.







      On the 4th of January the First Consul, after dinner, entered our cabinet,
      where I was employed. "Where is Duroc?" he inquired.—"He has gone to
      the opera, I believe."—"Tell him, as soon as he returns, that I have
      promised Hortense to him, and he shall have her. But I wish the marriage
      to take place in two days at the latest. I will give him 500,000 francs,
      and name him commandant of the eighth military division; but he must set
      out the day after his marriage with his wife for Toulon. We must live
      apart; I want no son-in-law at home. As I wish to come to some conclusion,
      let me know to-night whether this plan will satisfy him."—"I think
      it will not."—"Very well! then she shall marry Louis."—"Will
      she like that?"—"She must like it." Bonaparte gave me these
      directions in a very abrupt manner, which made me think that some little
      domestic warfare had been raging, and that to put an end to it he had come
      to propose his ultimatum. At half-past ten in the evening Duroc returned;
      I reported to him, word for word, the proposition of the First Consul.
      "Since it has come to that, my good friend," said he, "tell him he may
      keep his daughter for me. I am going to see the ——-," and,
      with an indifference for which I cannot account, he took his hat and went
      off.
    
On January 4th, the First Consul came into our office after dinner, where I was working. "Where's Duroc?" he asked. "I think he's gone to the opera," I replied. "Tell him that as soon as he gets back, I promised Hortense to him, and he can have her. But I want the wedding to happen in two days at the latest. I'll give him 500,000 francs and make him the commander of the eighth military division; however, he needs to leave for Toulon with his wife the day after the wedding. We must live separately; I don’t want a son-in-law living here. If I'm going to reach a decision, let me know tonight if this plan works for him." "I don't think it will," I said. "Fine! Then she’ll marry Louis." "Will she be okay with that?" "She has to be." Bonaparte gave me these instructions very abruptly, which made me think there had been some family conflict, and he came to propose his final decision. At 10:30 in the evening, Duroc returned; I relayed the First Consul's proposal word for word. "Since it’s come to this, my good friend," he said, "tell him he can keep his daughter. I'm going to see the ——-," and, with an indifference I can't explain, he took his hat and left.






 —[Duroc eventually married a Mademoiselle Hervae d'Almenara, the
   daughter of a Spanish banker, who was later Minister of Joseph, and
   was created Marquis of Abruenara. The lady was neither handsome nor
   amiable, but she possessed a vast fortune, and Bonaparte himself
   solicited her hand for his aide de camp. After the death of Duroc
   his widow married a M. Fabvier, and Napoleon gave his Duchy of
   Frioul to his daughter.]— 
—[Duroc eventually married Mademoiselle Hervae d'Almenara, the daughter of a Spanish banker who later became Minister of Joseph and was made Marquis of Abruenara. The woman wasn't beautiful or pleasant, but she had a huge fortune, and Bonaparte himself sought her hand for his aide de camp. After Duroc's death, his widow married a Mr. Fabvier, and Napoleon granted his Duchy of Frioul to their daughter.]—







      The First Consul, before going to bed, was informed of Duroc's reply, and
      Josephine received from him the promise that Louis and Hortense should be
      married. The marriage took place a few days after, to the great regret of
      Hortense, and probably to the satisfaction of Duroc. Louis submitted to
      have forced on him as a wife a woman who had hitherto avoided him as much
      as possible. She always manifested as much indifference for him as he
      displayed repugnance for her, and those sentiments have not been effaced.
    
The First Consul, before heading to bed, was informed about Duroc's response, and Josephine received his promise that Louis and Hortense would get married. The wedding happened a few days later, much to Hortense's dismay and likely to Duroc's approval. Louis reluctantly accepted a bride who had done everything she could to avoid him until that point. She consistently showed as much disinterest in him as he did aversion towards her, and those feelings have not changed.






 —[The marriage of Louis Bonaparte took place on the 7th January.
   The bride and bridegroom were exceedingly dull, and Mademoiselle
   Hortense wept during the whole of the ceremony. Josephine, knowing
   that this union, which commenced so inauspiciously, was her own
   work, anxiously endeavoured to establish a more cordial feeling
   between her daughter and son-in-law. But all her efforts were vain,
   and the marriage proved a very unhappy one (Memoirs de Constant).

   Napoleon III. was the son of the Queen of Holland (Hortense
   Beauharnais).]— 
—[The marriage of Louis Bonaparte took place on January 7th. The bride and groom were extremely dull, and Mademoiselle Hortense cried throughout the entire ceremony. Josephine, aware that this union, which began so poorly, was her own doing, desperately tried to create a warmer connection between her daughter and son-in-law. But all her efforts were in vain, and the marriage turned out to be very unhappy (Memoirs de Constant).

   Napoleon III was the son of the Queen of Holland (Hortense Beauharnais).]—







      Napoleon said at St. Helena that he wished to unite Louis with a niece of
      Talleyrand. I can only say that I never heard a word of this niece, either
      from himself, his wife, or his daughter; and I rather think that at that
      time the First Consul was looking after a royal alliance for Louis. He
      often expressed regret at the precipitate marriages of his sisters. It
      should be recollected that we were now in the year which saw the
      Consulship for life established, and which, consequently, gave presage of
      the Empire. Napoleon said truly to the companions of his exile that
      "Louis' marriage was the result of Josephine's intrigues," but I cannot
      understand how he never mentioned the intention he once had of uniting
      Hortense to Duroc. It has been erroneously stated that the First Consul
      believed that he reconciled the happiness of his daughter with his policy.
      Hortense did not love Louis, and dreaded this marriage. There was no hope
      of happiness for her, and the event has proved this. As for the policy of
      the First Consul, it is not easy to see how it was concerned with the
      marriage of Louis to Hortense, and in any case the grand policy which
      professed so loudly to be free from all feminine influences would have
      been powerless against the intrigues of Josephine, for at this time at the
      Tuileries the boudoir was often stronger than the cabinet. Here I am happy
      to have it in my power to contradict most formally and most positively
      certain infamous insinuations which have prevailed respecting Bonaparte
      and Hortense. Those who have asserted that Bonaparte ever entertained
      towards Hortense any other sentiments than those of a father-in-law for a
      daughter-in-law have, as the ancient knights used to say, "lied in their
      throats." We shall see farther on what he said to me on this subject, but
      it is never too soon to destroy such a base calumny. Authors unworthy of
      belief have stated, without any proof, that not only was there this
      criminal liaison, but they have gone so far as to say that Bonaparte was
      the father of the eldest son of Hortense. It is a lie, a vile lie. And yet
      the rumour has spread through all France and all Europe. Alas! has calumny
      such powerful charms that, once they are submitted to, their yoke cannot
      be broken?
    
Napoleon said at St. Helena that he wanted to marry Louis to a niece of Talleyrand. I can only say that I never heard about this niece from him, his wife, or his daughter; and I believe that at that time, the First Consul was looking for a royal marriage for Louis. He often expressed regret about the rushed marriages of his sisters. It should be noted that we were now in the year when the Consulate for life was established, which indicated the coming Empire. Napoleon rightly told his exiled companions that "Louis' marriage was the result of Josephine's scheming," but I don’t understand why he never mentioned his earlier intention to marry Hortense to Duroc. It has been wrongly claimed that the First Consul thought he could balance his daughter’s happiness with his policy. Hortense did not love Louis and was afraid of this marriage. There was no chance of happiness for her, and the outcome has proven this. As for the First Consul's policy, it’s not clear how it related to Louis marrying Hortense, and in any case, the grand policy that claimed to be free from all female influences would have been powerless against Josephine’s schemes, for at that time, the boudoir at the Tuileries often held more power than the cabinet. Here, I am glad to have the opportunity to firmly contradict certain despicable insinuations that have circulated about Bonaparte and Hortense. Those who have claimed that Bonaparte ever had feelings for Hortense beyond those of a father-in-law for a daughter-in-law have, as the old knights used to say, "lied through their teeth." We will see later what he said to me about this subject, but it is never too early to refute such a vile slander. Disreputable authors have stated, without any evidence, that there was this criminal relationship, even claiming that Bonaparte was the father of Hortense’s eldest son. It is a lie, a despicable lie. Yet the rumor has spread throughout France and all of Europe. Alas! Does slander have such powerful charms that, once accepted, its grip cannot be broken?






 —[Bourrienne's account of this marriage, and his denial of the vile
   calumny about Napoleon, is corroborated by Madame Rémusat. After
   saying that Hortense had refused to marry the son of Rewbell and
   also the Comte de Nun, she goes on: "A short time afterwards Duroc,
   then aide de camp to the Consul, and already noted by him, fell in
   love with Hortense. She returned the feeling, and believed she had
   found that other half of herself which she sought. Bonaparte looked
   favourably on their union, but Madame Bonaparte in her turn was
   inflexible. 'My daughter,' said she, 'must marry a gentleman or a
   Bonaparte.' Louis was then thought of. He had no fancy for
   Hortense; defeated the Beauharnais family, and had a supreme
   contempt for his sister-in-law. But as he was silent, he was
   believed to be gentle; and as he was severe by character, he was
   believed to be upright. Madame Louis told me afterwards that at the
   news of this arrangement she experienced violent grief. Not only
   was she forbidden to think of the man she loved, but she was about
   to be given to another of whom she had a secret distrust" (Rémusat,
   tome i. p. 156). For the cruel treatment of Hortense by Louis see
   the succeeding pages of Rémusat. As for the vile scandal about
   Hortense and Napoleon, there is little doubt that it was spread by
   the Bonapartist family for interested motives. Madame Louis became
   enceinte soon after her marriage. The Bonapartists, and especially
   Madame Murat (Caroline); had disliked this marriage because Joseph
   having only daughters, it was forseen that the first son of Louis
   and the grandson of Madame Bonaparte would be the object of great
   interest. They therefore spread the revolting story that this was
   the result of a connection of the First Consul with his
   daughter-in-law, encouraged by the mother herself. "The public
   willingly believed this suspicion.' Madame Murat told Louis," etc.
   (Rémusat, tome i, p. 169). This last sentence is corroborated by
   Miot de Melito (tome ii. p. 170), who, speaking of the later
   proposal of Napoleon to adopt this child, says that Louis
   "remembered the damaging stories which ill-will had tried to spread
   among the public concerning Hortense Beauharnais before he married
   her, and although a comparison of the date of his marriage with
   that of the birth of his son must have shown him that these tales
   were unfounded, he felt that they would be revived by the adoption
   of this child by the First Consul." Thus this wretched story did
   harm in every way. The conduct of Josephine must be judged with
   leniency, engaged as she was in a desperate struggle to maintain
   her own marriage,—a struggle she kept up with great skill; see
   Metternich, tome ii. p. 296. "she baffled all the calculations,
   all the manoeuvres of her adversaries." But she was foolish enough
   to talk in her anger as if she believed some of the disgraceful
   rumours of Napoleon. "Had he not seduced his sisters, one after
   the other?" (Rémusat, tome i. p. 204). As to how far this scandal
   was really believed by the brothers of Napoleon, see Iung's Lucien
   (tome ii. pp. 268-269), where Lucien describes Louis as coming
   three times to him for advice as to his marriage with Hortense,
   both brothers referring to this rumour. The third time Louis
   announces he is in love with Hortense. "You are in love? Why the
   devil, then, do you come to me for advice? If so, forget what has
   been rumoured, and what I have advised you. Marry, and may God
   bless you."

   Thiers (tome iii. p. 308) follows Bourrienne's account. Josephine,
   alluding to Louis Bonaparte, said, "His family have maliciously
   informed him of the disgraceful stories which have been spread on
   the conduct of my daughter and on the birth of her son. Hate
   assigns this child to Napoleon." (Rémusat, tome i, p. 206). The
   child in question was Napoleon Charles (1802-1807).]— 
 —[Bourrienne's account of this marriage, and his denial of the vile rumors about Napoleon, is supported by Madame Rémusat. After mentioning that Hortense turned down marriage proposals from Rewbell’s son and the Comte de Nun, she continues: "A little while later, Duroc, who was then an aide-de-camp to the Consul and had already caught his attention, fell in love with Hortense. She reciprocated his feelings and thought she had found her other half. Bonaparte approved of their union, but Madame Bonaparte was adamant. 'My daughter,' she said, 'must marry a gentleman or a Bonaparte.' Louis was then considered, but he had no interest in Hortense, disregarded the Beauharnais family, and held his sister-in-law in contempt. However, as he remained silent, he was seen as gentle, and due to his strict nature, he was thought to be honorable. Madame Louis later told me that upon hearing about this arrangement, she felt intense grief. Not only was she forbidden to think of the man she loved, but she was also about to be given to another man she secretly distrusted" (Rémusat, tome i. p. 156). For Louis's cruel treatment of Hortense, see the following pages of Rémusat. As for the disgusting rumors about Hortense and Napoleon, it seems quite likely they were spread by the Bonapartist family for their own purposes. Madame Louis became pregnant soon after her marriage. The Bonapartists, especially Madame Murat (Caroline), disliked this marriage because Joseph had only daughters, and it was anticipated that Louis's first son and Madame Bonaparte's grandson would attract significant attention. They therefore circulated the revolting tale that this was a result of a connection between the First Consul and his daughter-in-law, supposedly encouraged by the mother herself. "The public readily believed this suspicion." Madame Murat told Louis," etc. (Rémusat, tome i, p. 169). This last sentence is confirmed by Miot de Melito (tome ii. p. 170), who, discussing Napoleon's later proposal to adopt this child, notes that Louis "remembered the damaging stories that ill-will had tried to spread about Hortense Beauharnais before he married her, and although a comparison of the date of his marriage with that of the birth of his son must have shown him that these tales were unfounded, he felt that they would be brought up again by the First Consul adopting this child." Thus this miserable story caused harm in every way. Josephine’s behavior should be evaluated leniently, considering she was engaged in a desperate struggle to preserve her own marriage—a struggle she managed skillfully; see Metternich, tome ii. p. 296. "she outsmarted all the calculations and maneuvers of her opponents." However, she foolishly spoke in her anger as if she believed some of the disgraceful rumors about Napoleon. "Had he not seduced his sisters, one after the other?" (Rémusat, tome i. p. 204). As for how far this scandal was believed by Napoleon's brothers, see Iung's Lucien (tome ii. pp. 268-269), where Lucien describes Louis coming to him three times for advice on marrying Hortense, both brothers mentioning this rumor. On the third visit, Louis declares that he is in love with Hortense. "You’re in love? Then why the hell are you coming to me for advice? If so, forget the rumors and what I’ve advised you. Just marry, and may God bless you."

   Thiers (tome iii. p. 308) follows Bourrienne's account. Josephine, referring to Louis Bonaparte, said, "His family has maliciously informed him of the disgraceful stories that have been spread about my daughter's behavior and the birth of her son. Hate assigns this child to Napoleon." (Rémusat, tome i, p. 206). The child in question was Napoleon Charles (1802-1807).]—








 


 




















      CHAPTER VIII.
    



      1802-1803.
    
1802-1803.


   Bonaparte President of the Cisalpine Republic—Meeting of the
   deputation at Lyons—Malta and the English—My immortality—Fete
   given by Madame Murat—Erasures from the emigrant list—Restitution
   of property—General Sebastiani—Lord Whitworth—Napoleon's first
   symptoms of disease—Corvisart—Influence of physical suffering on
   Napoleon's temper—Articles for the Moniteur—General Andreossi—
   M. Talleyrand's pun—Jerome Bonaparte—Extravagance of Bonaparte's
   brothers—M. Collot and the navy contract.

   Bonaparte, President of the Cisalpine Republic—Meeting of the delegation in Lyons—Malta and the British—My legacy—Celebration hosted by Madame Murat—Removals from the expatriate list—Restoration of property—General Sebastiani—Lord Whitworth—Napoleon's early signs of illness—Corvisart—Impact of physical pain on Napoleon's mood—Articles for the Moniteur—General Andreossi—Mr. Talleyrand's joke—Jerome Bonaparte—Extravagance of Bonaparte's brothers—Mr. Collot and the navy contract.







      Bonaparte was anxious to place the Cisalpine Republic on a footing of
      harmony with the Government of France. It was necessary to select a
      President who should perfectly agree with Bonaparte's views; and in this
      respect no one could be so suitable as Bonaparte himself. The two
      Presidencies united would serve as a transition to the throne. Not wishing
      to be long absent from Paris, and anxious to avoid the trouble of the
      journey to Milan, he arranged to meet the deputation half-way at Lyons.
      Before our departure I said to him, "Is it possible that you do not wish
      to revisit Italy, the first scene of your glory, and the beautiful capital
      of Lombardy, where you were the object of so much homage?"—"I
      certainly should," replied the First Consul, "but the journey to Milan
      would occupy too much precious time. I prefer that the meeting should take
      place in France. My influence over the deputies will be more prompt and
      certain at Lyons than at Milan; and then I should be glad to see the noble
      wreck of the army of Egypt, which is collected at Lyons."
    
Bonaparte wanted to align the Cisalpine Republic with the French Government. He needed to choose a President who shared his views, and no one was more suitable than Bonaparte himself. Combining the two presidencies would act as a bridge to the throne. Not wanting to be away from Paris for too long and hoping to avoid the hassle of traveling to Milan, he decided to meet the delegation halfway in Lyons. Before we left, I said to him, "Is it possible that you don't want to return to Italy, the place where you first gained fame, and the beautiful capital of Lombardy, where you were so celebrated?"—"I definitely do," replied the First Consul, "but the trip to Milan would take up too much valuable time. I prefer to have the meeting in France. My influence over the deputies will be stronger and more immediate in Lyons than in Milan, and I would also like to see the brave remnants of the army of Egypt that are gathered in Lyons."







      On the 8th of January 1802 we set out. Bonaparte who was now ready to
      ascend the throne of France, wished to prepare the Italians for one day
      crowning him King of Italy, in imitation of Charlemagne, of whom in
      anticipation he considered himself the successor. He saw that the title of
      President of the Cisalpine Republic was a great advance towards the
      sovereignty of Lombardy, as he afterwards found that the Consulate for
      life was a decisive step towards the throne of France. He obtained the
      title of President without much difficulty on the 36th of January 1802.
      The journey to Lyons and the conferences were only matters of form; but
      high sounding words and solemn proceedings were required for the public
      mind.
    
On January 8, 1802, we set off. Bonaparte, now ready to take the throne of France, wanted to prepare the Italians for the day they would crown him King of Italy, emulating Charlemagne, of whom he believed himself to be the successor. He recognized that the title of President of the Cisalpine Republic was a significant step towards gaining control over Lombardy, just as he later realized that becoming Consul for life was a critical move towards the throne of France. He secured the title of President quite easily on January 36, 1802. The trip to Lyons and the meetings were mainly formalities, but impressive language and serious ceremonies were needed to sway public opinion.







      The attempts which had been made on the life of the First Consul gave rise
      to a report that he took extraordinary precautions for his safety during
      this journey to Lyons. I never saw those precautions, and Bonaparte was at
      all times averse to adopt any. He often repeated "That whoever would risk
      his own life might take his." It is not true that guards preceded his
      carriage and watched the roads. The Consul travelled like a private
      person, and very rarely had arms in his carriage.
    
The attempts on the First Consul's life led to rumors that he took unusual measures for his safety during his trip to Lyons. I never saw those measures, and Bonaparte was always reluctant to take any. He often said, "Anyone who would risk their own life could take mine." It's not true that guards went ahead of his carriage and monitored the roads. The Consul traveled like an ordinary person and rarely had weapons in his carriage.






 —[Bonaparte may have been careless of his own safety, but that he
   took great pains in regard to his brother's may be inferred from the
   following letter, written a few years later:

   "Take care that your valets de chambre, your cooks, the guards that
   sleep in your apartments, and those who come during the night to
   awaken you with despatches, are all Frenchmen. No one should enter
   your room during the night except your aides de camp, who should
   sleep in the chamber that precedes your bedroom. Your door should
   be fastened inside, and you ought not to open it, even to your aide
   de camp, until you have recognised his voice; he himself should not
   knock at your door until he has locked that of the room which he is
   in, to make sure of being alone, and of being followed by no one.
   These precautions are important; they give no trouble, and they
   inspire confidence—besides, they may really save your life. You
   should establish these habits immediately and permanently; You ought
   not to be obliged to have resource to them on some emergency, which
   would hurt the feelings of those around you. Do not trust only to
   your own experience. The Neapolitan character has been violent in
   every age, and you have to do with a woman [Queen of Naples] who is
   the impersonation of crime" (Napoleon to Joseph, May 31, 1806.—Du
   Casse, tome ii. p. 260).]— 
—[Bonaparte may have been reckless about his own safety, but it’s clear he cared a lot about his brother's well-being, as shown in the following letter written a few years later:

   "Make sure that your valets, cooks, and any guards who sleep in your rooms, as well as those who come during the night to wake you with messages, are all French. No one should enter your room at night except your aides-de-camp, who should sleep in the room right before your bedroom. Your door should be locked from the inside, and you should not open it—even for your aide-de-camp—until you’ve recognized their voice. They shouldn’t knock on your door until they’ve locked the door of the room they’re in to ensure they’re alone and aren’t being followed. These precautions are essential; they’re not a hassle and will make you feel more secure—plus, they could actually save your life. You should establish these practices right away and keep them in place; you shouldn’t have to rely on them only during an emergency, as that could upset those around you. Don’t just rely on your own judgment. The Neapolitan character has always been volatile, and you’re dealing with a woman [Queen of Naples] who embodies treachery" (Napoleon to Joseph, May 31, 1806.—Du Casse, tome ii. p. 260).]—







      At this time, when the ambition of Bonaparte every day took a farther
      flight, General Clarke took it into his head to go into the box of the
      First Consul at the "Francais," and to place himself in the front seat. By
      chance the First Consul came to the theatre, but Clarke, hardly rising,
      did not give up his place. The First Consul only stayed a short time, and
      when he came back he showed great discontent at this affectation of pride
      and of vanity. Wishing to get rid of a man whom he looked on as a
      blundering flatterer and a clumsy critic, he sent him away as charge
      d'affaires to the young extemporized King of Etruria, where Clarke
      expiated his folly in a sort of exile. This is all the "great disfavour"
      which has been so much spoken about, In the end General Clarke returned to
      favour. Berlin knows and regrets it.
    
At this time, as Bonaparte's ambition soared higher each day, General Clarke decided to go into the First Consul's box at the "Francais" and take the front seat. By chance, the First Consul attended the theater, but Clarke barely stood up and didn't give up his seat. The First Consul only stayed for a short while, and when he returned, he showed clear displeasure at this display of arrogance and vanity. Wanting to get rid of someone he considered a bumbling sycophant and a poor critic, he sent Clarke away as charge d'affaires to the young, makeshift King of Etruria, where Clarke paid for his mistake in a kind of exile. This is all the "great disfavour" that has been discussed. In the end, General Clarke regained favor. Berlin knows this and regrets it.







      On the 25th of March of the same year England signed, at Amiens, a
      suspension of arms for fourteen months, which was called a treaty of
      peace. The clauses of this treaty were not calculated to inspire the hope
      of a very long peace. It was evident, as I have already said, that England
      would not evacuate Malta; and that island ultimately proved the chief
      cause of the rupture of the treaty of Amiens. But England, heretofore so
      haughty in her bearing to the First Consul, had at length treated with him
      as the Head of the French Government. This, as Bonaparte was aware, boded
      well for the consolidation of his power.
    
On March 25 of the same year, England signed a ceasefire in Amiens for fourteen months, which was referred to as a peace treaty. The terms of this treaty didn’t exactly suggest a long-lasting peace. It was clear, as I mentioned before, that England wouldn't give up Malta, and that island ultimately became the main reason for the breakdown of the treaty of Amiens. However, England, which had previously been so arrogant toward the First Consul, finally treated him as the leader of the French Government. Bonaparte understood that this was a good sign for strengthening his power.







      At that time, when he saw his glory and power augmenting, he said to me in
      one of our walks at Malmaison, in a moment of hilarity, and clapping me on
      the shoulder, "Well, Bourrienne, you also will be immortal!"— "Why,
      General?"—"Are you not my secretary?"—"Tell me the name of
      Alexander's," said I.
    
At that time, when he saw his glory and power growing, he said to me during one of our walks at Malmaison, in a moment of excitement, and giving me a friendly pat on the shoulder, "Well, Bourrienne, you'll be immortal too!" — "Why's that, General?" — "Aren't you my secretary?" — "Tell me Alexander's name," I replied.






 —[Bonaparte did not know the name of Alexander's secretary, and I
   forgot at the moment to tell him it was Clallisthenes. He wrote
   Alexander's Memoirs, as I am writing Bonaparte's; but,
   notwithstanding this coincidence, I neither expect nor desire the
   immortality of my name.—Bourrienne.]— 
 —[Bonaparte didn’t know the name of Alexander’s secretary, and I forgot to mention that it was Clallisthenes. He wrote Alexander’s Memoirs, just as I’m writing Bonaparte’s; however, despite this coincidence, I neither expect nor desire to achieve immortality for my name.—Bourrienne.]—







      Bonaparte then turned to me and laughing, said, "Hem! that is not bad."
      There was, to be sure, a little flattery conveyed in my question, but that
      never displeased him, and I certainly did not in that instance deserve the
      censure he often bestowed on me for not being enough of a courtier and
      flatterer.
    
Bonaparte then turned to me and laughed, saying, "Well! That's not bad." There was, of course, a bit of flattery in my question, but that never bothered him, and I definitely didn't deserve the criticism he often gave me for not being enough of a courtier and flatterer.







      Madame Murat gave a grand fete in honour of Bonaparte at her residence at
      Neuilly. At dinner Bonaparte sat opposite Madame Murat at the principal
      table, which was appropriated to the ladies. He ate fast, and talked but
      little. However, when the dessert was served, he put a question to each
      lady. This question was to inquire their respective ages. When Madame
      Bourrienne's turn came he said to her, "Oh! I know yours." This was a
      great deal for his gallantry, and the other ladies were far from being
      pleased at it.
    
Madame Murat hosted a lavish party in honor of Bonaparte at her home in Neuilly. During dinner, Bonaparte sat across from Madame Murat at the main table, which was reserved for the ladies. He ate quickly and spoke very little. However, when dessert was served, he asked each lady a question: their ages. When it was Madame Bourrienne's turn, he said to her, "Oh! I know how old you are." This was quite bold for him, and the other ladies were not pleased at all.







      Next day, while walking with me in his favourite alley at Malmaison, he
      received one of those stupid reports of the police which were so
      frequently addressed to him. It mentioned the observations which had been
      made in Paris about a green livery he had lately adopted. Some said that
      green had been chosen because it was the colour of the House of Artois. On
      reading that a slight sneer was observable in his countenance, and he
      said, "What are these idiots dreaming of? They must be joking, surely. Am
      I no better than M. d'Artois? They shall soon see the difference."
    
The next day, while strolling with me in his favorite alley at Malmaison, he got one of those ridiculous police reports that were so often sent to him. It mentioned the comments that had been made in Paris about a green uniform he had recently adopted. Some claimed that the green was chosen because it was the color of the House of Artois. Upon reading that, a slight sneer appeared on his face, and he said, "What are these idiots thinking? They must be joking. Am I really no better than M. d'Artois? They'll soon see the difference."







      Until the middle of the year 1801 the erasures from the emigrant list had
      always been proposed by the Minister of Police. The First Consul having
      been informed that intrigue and even bribery had been employed to obtain
      them, determined that in future erasures should be part of the business of
      his cabinet. But other affairs took up his attention, and a dozen or
      fifteen erasures a week were the most that were made. After Te Deum had
      been chanted at Malmaison for the Concordat and the peace, I took
      advantage of that moment of general joy to propose to Bonaparte the return
      of the whole body of emigrants. "You have," said I in a half-joking way,
      "reconciled Frenchmen to God—now reconcile them to each other. There
      have never been any real emigrants, only absentees; and the proof of this
      is, that erasures from the list have always been, and will always be, made
      daily." He immediately seized the idea. "We shall see," said he; "but I
      must except a thousand persons belonging to high families, especially
      those who are or have been connected with royalty or the Court."
    
Until the middle of 1801, the removals from the emigrant list were always suggested by the Minister of Police. Once the First Consul learned that schemes and even bribes had been used to secure these removals, he decided that going forward, they should be handled by his cabinet. However, other matters caught his attention, and only about a dozen or fifteen removals were made each week. After a Te Deum was sung at Malmaison to celebrate the Concordat and the peace, I took that moment of general celebration to suggest to Bonaparte that all the emigrants be allowed to return. "You have," I said half-jokingly, "reconciled the French people to God—now help them reconcile with each other. There have never truly been any emigrants, only people who were away; and the proof of this is that removals from the list have always happened, and will continue to happen, every day." He immediately jumped on the idea. "We’ll see," he replied, "but I have to exclude about a thousand individuals from prominent families, especially those who are or have been linked to royalty or the Court."







      I said in the Chamber of Deputies, and I feel pleasure in repeating here,
      that the plan of the 'Senatus-consults', which Bonaparte dictated to me,
      excepted from restitution only such mansions as were used for public
      establishments. These he would neither surrender nor pay rent for. With
      those exceptions he was willing to restore almost all that was possessed
      by the State and had not been sold.
    
I mentioned in the Chamber of Deputies, and I'm happy to repeat here, that the plan of the 'Senatus-consults' that Bonaparte gave me only excluded from restitution those mansions used for public institutions. He wouldn't give those back or pay rent for them. Aside from that, he was open to restoring almost everything else that was owned by the State and hadn't been sold.







      The First Consul, as soon as he had finished this plan of a decree,
      convoked a Grand Council to submit it to their consideration. I was in an
      adjoining room to that in which they met, and as the deliberations were
      carried on with great warmth, the members talking very loudly, sometimes
      even vociferating, I heard all that passed. The revolutionary party
      rejected all propositions of restitution. They were willing to call back
      their victims, but they would not part with the spoil.
    
The First Consul, after completing the draft of a decree, called a Grand Council to discuss it. I was in a nearby room while they met, and since the discussions were very heated, with members speaking loudly and sometimes even shouting, I heard everything that was said. The revolutionary faction rejected all proposals for restitution. They were open to bringing back their victims, but they refused to give up the loot.







      When the First Consul returned to his cabinet, dissatisfied with the ill
      success of his project, I took the liberty of saying to him, "you cannot
      but perceive, General, that your object has been defeated, and your
      project unsuccessful. The refusal to restore to the emigrants all that the
      State possesses takes from the recall all its generosity and dignity of
      character. I wonder how you could yield to such an unreasonable and
      selfish opposition."—"The revolutionary party," replied he, "had the
      majority in the Council. What could I do? Am I strong enough to overcome
      all those obstacles?"—"General, you can revive the question again,
      and oppose the party you speak of."—"That would be difficult," he
      said; "they still have a high hand in these matters. Time is required.
      However, nothing is definitively arranged. We shall see what can be done."
      The 'Senatus-consulte', published on the 6th Floréal, year X. (26th of
      April 1802), a fortnight after the above conversation took place, is well
      known. Bonaparte was then obliged to yield to the revolutionary party, or
      he would have adhered to his first proposition.
    
When the First Consul returned to his office, unhappy with how his project turned out, I took the chance to say to him, "You must realize, General, that your goal has been defeated and your project unsuccessful. The refusal to give back to the emigrants everything the State owns takes away the generosity and dignity of the recall. I can't believe you would give in to such unreasonable and selfish opposition."—"The revolutionary party," he replied, "had the majority in the Council. What could I do? Am I strong enough to overcome all those obstacles?"—"General, you can bring the issue up again and challenge the party you're talking about."—"That would be difficult," he said; "they still wield a lot of power in these matters. Time is needed. However, nothing is set in stone. We’ll see what can be done." The 'Senatus-consulte', published on the 6th Floréal, year X. (26th of April 1802), two weeks after our conversation, is well known. Bonaparte then had to yield to the revolutionary party, or he would have stuck to his original proposal.






 —[The Senatus-consulte retained the woods and forests of the
   emigrants, and made their recall an "amnesty." In the end this
   retention of the forests was used by Napoleon with great dexterity
   as a means of placing them under personal obligation to him for
   restoring this species of property. See Thiers tome iii, p. 458,
   livre xiv.]— 
 —[The Senate decided to keep the woods and forests of the emigrants and declared their return an "amnesty." In the end, Napoleon skillfully used this retention of the forests as a way to put them in his personal debt for restoring this type of property. See Thiers vol. iii, p. 458, book xiv.]—







      Napoleon referred to this matter at St. Helena. He himself says that he
      "would have been able" (he should have said that he wished) to grant
      everything, that for a moment he thought of doing so, and that it was a
      mistake not to do so. "This limitation on my part," he adds, "destroyed
      all the good effect of the return of the emigrants. The mistake was the
      greater since I thought of doing it, but I was alone, surrounded by
      oppositions and by spies: all were against your party, you cannot easily
      picture the matter to yourself, but important affairs hurried me, time
      pressed, and I was obliged to act differently." Afterwards he speaks of a
      syndicate he wished to form, but I have never heard a word of that. I have
      said how things really happened, and what has been just read confirms
      this.
    
Napoleon talked about this issue at St. Helena. He stated that he "could have" (he should have said he wanted to) grant everything, mentioning that for a moment he considered it and that not doing so was a mistake. "This limitation on my part," he continued, "ruined all the positive impact of the return of the emigrants. The mistake was worse since I thought about it, but I was alone, surrounded by opposition and spies: everyone was against your party, and it's hard for you to understand, but urgent matters pushed me, time was tight, and I had to act differently." Later, he mentioned a syndicate he wanted to create, but I've never heard anything about that. I've explained how things really went down, and what has just been read supports this.






 —[This was by no means the only time that Napoleon's wishes were
   opposed successfully in his Council of State. On such occasions he
   used to describe himself as "repulsed with losses." See the
   interesting work of St. Hilaire, Napoleon au Conseil d'Etat.]— 
 —[This wasn't the only time Napoleon's wishes were successfully challenged in his Council of State. During those moments, he would describe himself as "defeated by setbacks." Check out the fascinating work of St. Hilaire, Napoleon au Conseil d'Etat.]— 







      The Royalists, dissatisfied with the state of political affairs, were not
      better pleased with the illiberal conditions of the recall of the
      emigrants. The friends of public liberty, on the other hand, were far from
      being satisfied with the other acts of the First Consul, or with the
      conduct of the different public authorities, who were always ready to make
      concessions to him. Thus all parties were dissatisfied.
    
The Royalists, unhappy with the political situation, were also frustrated with the unfair conditions surrounding the return of the emigrants. Meanwhile, the advocates of public freedom were far from satisfied with the actions of the First Consul or with how the various public authorities behaved, as they were always eager to give in to him. As a result, everyone was unhappy.







      Bonaparte was much pleased with General Sebastiani's conduct when he was
      sent to Constantinople, after the peace of Amiens, to induce the Grand
      Seignior to renew amicable relations with France.
    
Bonaparte was very pleased with General Sebastiani's actions when he was sent to Constantinople, after the peace of Amiens, to persuade the Grand Seignior to restore friendly relations with France.







      At the period here alluded to, namely, before the news of the evacuation
      of Egypt, that country greatly occupied Bonaparte's attention. He thought
      that to send a man like Sebastiani travelling through Northern Africa,
      Egypt, and Syria might inspire the sovereigns of those countries with a
      more favourable idea of France than they now entertained, and might remove
      the ill impressions which England was endeavouring to produce. On this
      mission Sebastiani was accordingly despatched. He visited all the Barbary
      States, Egypt, Palestine, and the Ionian Isles. Everywhere he drew a
      highly-coloured picture of the power of Bonaparte, and depreciated the
      glory of England.
    
At the time being discussed, specifically before the news of the evacuation of Egypt, that country was a major focus for Bonaparte. He believed that sending someone like Sebastiani to travel through Northern Africa, Egypt, and Syria could help create a more positive perception of France among the rulers of those areas, and counteract the negative impressions that England was trying to spread. So, Sebastiani was sent on this mission. He traveled to all the Barbary States, Egypt, Palestine, and the Ionian Isles. Everywhere he went, he painted an exaggerated picture of Bonaparte's power and downplayed the glory of England.






 —[This General, or Count Sebastian, was afterwards ambassador for
   Louis Philippe at our Court.]— 
 —[This General, or Count Sebastian, later served as an ambassador for Louis Philippe at our Court.]—







      He strengthened old connections, and contracted new ones with the chiefs
      of each country. He declared to the authorities of the Ionian Isles that
      they might rely on the powerful protection of France. Bonaparte, in my
      opinion, expected too much from the labours of a single individual
      furnished with but vague instructions. Still Sebastiani did all that could
      be done. The interesting details of his proceedings were published in the
      'Moniteur'. The secret information respecting the means of successfully
      attacking the English establishments in India was very curious, though not
      affording the hope of speedy success.
    
He strengthened old connections and made new ones with the leaders of each country. He assured the authorities of the Ionian Isles that they could count on the strong protection of France. In my view, Bonaparte was expecting too much from the efforts of one person who had only vague instructions. Still, Sebastiani did everything he could. The intriguing details of his actions were published in the 'Moniteur'. The confidential information about the ways to successfully attack the English outposts in India was quite fascinating, even though it didn’t promise quick success.







      The published abstract of General Sebastiani's report was full of
      expressions hostile to England. Among other things it was stated that
      Egypt might be conquered with 6000 men, and that the Ionian Isles where
      disposed to throw off the yoke. There can be little doubt that this
      publication hastened the rupture of the treaty of Amiens.
    
The published summary of General Sebastiani's report was filled with negative remarks about England. It mentioned that Egypt could be taken with just 6,000 troops and that the Ionian Islands were ready to break free. There's little doubt that this release sped up the end of the treaty of Amiens.







      England suspended all discussions respecting Malta, and declared that she
      would not resume them till the King of Great Britain should receive
      satisfaction for what was called an act of hostility. This was always put
      forward as a justification, good or bad, for breaking the treaty of
      Amiens, which England had never shown herself very ready to execute.
    
England put all discussions about Malta on hold and stated that it wouldn't resume them until the King of Great Britain received satisfaction for what was termed an act of hostility. This was consistently presented as a justification, whether valid or not, for breaking the treaty of Amiens, which England had never been very willing to carry out.







      Bonaparte, waiving the usual forma of etiquette, expressed his wish to
      have a private conference with Lord Whitworth, the ambassador from London
      to Paris, and who had been the English ambassador at St. Petersburg
      previous to the rupture which preceded the death of Paul I. Bonaparte
      counted much on the effect he might produce by that captivating manner
      which he so well knew how to assume in conversation; but all was in vain.
      In signing the treaty of Amiens the British Minister was well aware that
      he would be the first to break it.
    
Bonaparte, skipping the usual formalities, asked for a private meeting with Lord Whitworth, the ambassador from London to Paris, who had previously been the British ambassador in St. Petersburg before the break that led to the death of Paul I. Bonaparte was hopeful that his charming conversation skills would have an impact, but it was all for nothing. When signing the treaty of Amiens, the British Minister knew he would be the first to violate it.







      About the commencement of the year 1802 Napoleon began to feel acute pains
      in his right side. I have often seen him at Malmaison, when sitting up at
      night, lean against the right arm of his chair, and unbuttoning his coat
      and waistcoat exclaim,—"What pain I feel!" I would then accompany
      him to his bedchamber, and have often been obliged to support him on the
      little staircase which led from his cabinet to the corridor. He frequently
      used to say at this time, "I fear that when I am forty I shall become a
      great eater: I have a foreboding that I shall grow very corpulent." This
      fear of obesity, though it annoyed him very much, did not appear to have
      the least foundation, judging from his habitual temperance and spare habit
      of body. He asked me who was my physician. I told him M. Corvisart, whom
      his brother Louis had recommended to me. A few days after he called in
      Corvisart, who three years later was appointed first physician to the
      Emperor. He appeared to derive much benefit from the prescriptions of
      Corvisart, whose open and good-humoured countenance at once made a
      favourable impression on him.
    
Around the start of 1802, Napoleon began to experience sharp pains in his right side. I often saw him at Malmaison, sitting up at night, leaning against the right arm of his chair, unbuttoning his coat and waistcoat, exclaiming, “What pain I feel!” I would then help him to his bedroom and often had to support him on the small staircase that led from his office to the hallway. He often remarked during this time, “I worry that by the time I’m forty, I’ll be a heavy eater: I have a feeling I’m going to get really overweight.” Although this concern about gaining weight troubled him, it didn’t seem to have any real basis, considering his usual moderation and slender build. He asked me who my doctor was. I told him it was M. Corvisart, whom his brother Louis had recommended to me. A few days later, he called in Corvisart, who three years later became the Emperor's chief physician. He seemed to benefit greatly from Corvisart’s prescriptions, and Corvisart’s friendly and cheerful demeanor made a positive impression on him right away.







      The pain which the First Consul felt at this time increased his
      irritability. Perhaps many of the sets of this epoch of his life should be
      attributed to this illness. At the time in question his ideas were not the
      same in the evening as they had been in the morning; and often in the
      morning he would tear up, even without the least remark, notes he had
      dictated to me at night and which he had considered excellent. At other
      times I took on myself not to send to the Moniteur, as he wished me to do,
      notes which, dictated by annoyance and irascibility, might have produced a
      bad effect in Europe. When the next day he did not see the article, I
      attributed this to the note being too late, or to the late arrival of the
      courier. But I told him it was no loss, for it would be inserted the next
      day. He did not answer at once, but a quarter of an hour afterwards he
      said to me, "Do not send my note to the 'Moniteur' without showing it to
      me." He took it and reread it. Sometimes he was astonished at what he had
      dictated to me, and amused himself by saying that I had not understood him
      properly. "That is not much good, is it? "—"'Pon my word, I don't
      quite know."—"Oh no, it is worthless; what say you?" Then he bowed
      his head a little, and tore up the paper. Once when we were at the
      Tuileries he sent me at two o'clock in the morning a small note in his own
      writing, in which was, "To Bourrienne. Write to Maret to make him erase
      from the note which Fleurieu has read to the Tribunate the phrase (spelt
      frase) concerning Costaz, and to soften as much as possible what concerns
      the reporter of the Tribunate."
    
The pain that the First Consul was experiencing at that time heightened his irritability. A lot of the moods from this part of his life might stem from this illness. During that period, his thoughts were different in the evening compared to the morning; often, in the morning, he would tear up notes he had dictated to me the night before, which he had thought were great, without any comment at all. There were times I decided not to send notes to the Moniteur, as he wanted me to, because they were dictated out of annoyance and irritation, and I worried they could negatively impact Europe. When he didn't see the article the next day, I would say it was because the note arrived too late or the courier was delayed. But I reassured him it wasn’t a problem, as it would be included the following day. He wouldn’t respond immediately, but about fifteen minutes later, he told me, "Don't send my note to the 'Moniteur' without showing it to me." He took the note and reread it. Sometimes he was surprised by what he had dictated and would joke that I hadn’t understood him correctly. "That's not very good, is it?"—"'Honestly, I’m not sure."—"Oh no, it's worthless; what do you think?" Then he would lower his head slightly and tear up the paper. Once, when we were at the Tuileries, he sent me a short note in his handwriting at two in the morning that said, "To Bourrienne. Write to Maret to have him remove the phrase regarding Costaz, which Fleurieu read to the Tribunate, and to soften as much as possible what concerns the reporter of the Tribunate."







      This change, after time for reflection, arose, as often happened with him,
      from observations I had made to him, and which he had at first angrily
      repulsed.
    
This change, after some time to think it over, came about, as often happened with him, from things I had pointed out to him, which he had initially rejected angrily.







      After the peace of Amiens the First Consul, wishing to send an ambassador
      to England, cast his eyes—for what reason I know not—on
      General Andreossi. I took the liberty of making some observation on a
      choice which did not appear to me to correspond with the importance of the
      mission. Bonaparte replied, "I have not determined on it; I will talk to
      Talleyrand on the subject." When we were at Malmaison in the evening M. de
      Talleyrand came to transact business with the First Consul. The proposed
      appointment of an ambassador to England was mentioned. After several
      persons had been named the First Consul said, "I believe I must send
      Andreossi." M. de Talleyrand, who was not much pleased with the choice,
      observed in a dry sarcastic tone, "You must send Andre 'aussi', I Pray,
      who is this Andre?"—"I did not mention any Andre; I said Andreossi.
      You know Andreossi, the general of artillery?"—"Ah! true; Andreossi:
      I did not think of him: I was thinking only of the diplomatic men, and did
      not recollect any of that name. Yes, yes; Andreossi is in the artillery!"
      The general was appointed ambassador, and went to London after the treaty
      of Amiens; but he returned again in a few months. He had nothing of
      consequence to do, which was very lucky for him.
    
After the peace of Amiens, the First Consul wanted to send an ambassador to England and, for reasons I don’t know, set his sights on General Andreossi. I took the liberty of commenting on a choice that didn’t seem to match the importance of the mission. Bonaparte replied, "I haven’t decided yet; I’ll discuss it with Talleyrand." That evening at Malmaison, M. de Talleyrand came to meet with the First Consul. The possible appointment of an ambassador to England came up. After several names were suggested, the First Consul said, "I think I should send Andreossi." M. de Talleyrand, who wasn’t too pleased with the choice, remarked in a dry, sarcastic tone, "You mean Andre 'aussi'? By the way, who is this Andre?"—"I didn't mention any Andre; I said Andreossi. You know Andreossi, the general of artillery?"—"Ah! right; Andreossi: I didn’t think of him. I was only considering the diplomatic candidates and didn’t remember anyone by that name. Yes, yes; Andreossi is in the artillery!" The general was appointed ambassador and went to London after the treaty of Amiens, but he came back a few months later. He didn’t have anything significant to do, which was quite fortunate for him.







      In 1802 Jerome was at Brest in the rank of 'enseigne de vaisseau'—[A
      rank in the navy equivalent to that of our lieutenant.]—He launched
      into expenses far beyond what his fortune or his pay could maintain. He
      often drew upon me for sums of money which the First Consul paid with much
      unwillingness. One of his letters in particular excited Napoleon's anger.
      The epistle was filled with accounts of the entertainments Jerome was
      giving and receiving, and ended by stating that he should draw on me for
      17,000 francs. To this Bonaparte wrote the following reply:—
    
In 1802, Jerome was in Brest with the rank of 'enseigne de vaisseau'—[A rank in the navy equivalent to that of our lieutenant.]—He was spending far more than his income could support. He often asked me for sums of money that the First Consul reluctantly paid. One letter, in particular, set off Napoleon’s anger. The letter detailed the parties Jerome was throwing and attending, and concluded by saying he would be drawing on me for 17,000 francs. To this, Bonaparte wrote the following reply:—






   I have read your letter, Monsieur l'Enseigne de Vaisseau; and I am
   waiting to hear that you are studying on board your corvette a
   profession which you ought to consider as your road to glory. Die
   young, and I shall have some consolatory reflection; but if you live
   to sixty without having served your country, and without leaving
   behind you any honourable recollections, you had better not have
   lived at all.

I’ve read your letter, Mr. Midshipman; and I’m eager to hear that you’re focusing on your studies aboard your corvette, which you should view as your path to success. If you die young, I’ll find some comfort in that; but if you reach sixty without having served your country or leaving behind any honorable memories, it would be better if you had never lived at all.







      Jerome never fulfilled the wishes of his brother, who always called him a
      little profligate. From his earliest years his conduct was often a source
      of vexation to his brother and his family. Westphalia will not soon forget
      that he was her King; and his subjects did not without reason surname him
      "Heliogabalus in miniature."
    
Jerome never lived up to his brother's expectations, who always referred to him as a little wasteful. From a young age, his behavior often frustrated his brother and family. Westphalia won't soon forget that he was their King, and his subjects had good reason to call him "a mini Heliogabalus."







      The First Consul was harassed by the continual demands for money made on
      him by his brothers. To get rid of Joseph, who expended large sums at
      Mortfontaine, as Lucien did at Neuilly, he gave M. Collot the contract for
      victualling the navy, on the condition of his paying Joseph 1,600,000
      francs a year out of his profits. I believe this arrangement answered
      Joseph's purpose very well; but it was anything but advantageous to M.
      Collot. I think a whole year elapsed without his pocketing a single
      farthing. He obtained an audience of the First Consul, to whom he stated
      his grievances. His outlays he showed were enormous, and he could get no
      payment from the navy office. Upon which the Consul angrily interrupted
      him, saying, "Do you think I am a mere capuchin? Decres must have 100,000
      crowns, Duroc 100,000, Bourrienne 100,000; you must make the payments, and
      don't come here troubling me with your long stories. It is the business of
      my Ministers to give me accounts of such matters; I will hear Decres, and
      that's enough. Let me be teased no longer with these complaints; I cannot
      attend to them." Bonaparte then very unceremoniously dismissed M. Collot.
      I learned afterwards that he did not get a settlement of the business
      until after a great deal of trouble. M. Collot once said to me, "If he had
      asked me for as much money as would have built a frigate he should have
      had it. All I want now is to be paid, and to get rid of the business." M.
      Collot had reason and honour on his side; but there was nothing but
      shuffling on the other.
    
The First Consul was constantly pressured by his brothers for money. To manage Joseph, who spent a lot at Mortfontaine, just like Lucien did at Neuilly, he gave M. Collot the contract for supplying the navy, under the condition that he would pay Joseph 1,600,000 francs a year from his profits. This arrangement worked well for Joseph, but it was far from beneficial for M. Collot. I believe a whole year passed without him seeing a single penny. He finally got a meeting with the First Consul, where he expressed his frustrations. He detailed his massive expenses and how he wasn’t receiving any payment from the navy office. The Consul, irritated, interrupted him, saying, "Do you think I’m just some monk? Decres needs 100,000 crowns, Duroc needs 100,000, Bourrienne needs 100,000; you need to make those payments, and don’t come bothering me with your long stories. It’s my Ministers' job to report on these matters; I will listen to Decres, and that’s it. Stop annoying me with these complaints; I can’t deal with them." Bonaparte then dismissed M. Collot rather rudely. I found out later that it took him a lot of trouble before he finally got the matter settled. M. Collot once told me, "If he had asked me for as much money as it would take to build a frigate, he would have gotten it. All I want now is to be paid and to be done with this business." M. Collot had reasonable and honorable grounds, but on the other side, there was nothing but evasion.








 


 




















      CHAPTER IX.
    



      1802.
    
1802.


   Proverbial falsehood of bulletins—M. Doublet—Creation of the
   Legion of Honour—Opposition to it in the Council and other
   authorities of the State—The partisans of an hereditary system—
   The question of the Consulship for life.

   Proverbial falsehood of bulletins—M. Doublet—Creation of the
   Legion of Honour—Opposition to it in the Council and other
   authorities of the State—Supporters of an hereditary system—The question of the Consulship for life.







      The historian of these times ought to put no faith in the bulletins,
      despatches, notes, and proclamations which have emanated from Bonaparte,
      or passed through his hands. For my part, I believe that the proverb, "As
      great a liar as a bulletin," has as much truth in it as the axiom, two and
      two make four.
    
The historian of these times shouldn't trust the bulletins, dispatches, notes, and proclamations that have come from Bonaparte or have gone through him. Personally, I think the saying, "As big a liar as a bulletin," is as accurate as the fact that two and two make four.







      The bulletins always announced what Bonaparte wished to be believed true;
      but to form a proper judgment on any fact, counter-bulletins must be
      sought for and consulted. It is well known, too, that Bonaparte attached
      great importance to the place whence he dated his bulletins; thus, he
      dated his decrees respecting the theatres and Hamburg beef at Moscow.
    
The bulletins always stated what Bonaparte wanted people to believe was true; however, to make an accurate judgment on any fact, one had to find and look at counter-bulletins. It's also well known that Bonaparte placed a lot of importance on where he dated his bulletins from; for example, he dated his decrees about the theaters and Hamburg beef as if they were from Moscow.







      The official documents were almost always incorrect. There was falsity in
      the exaggerated descriptions of his victories, and falsity again in the
      suppression or palliation of his reverses and losses. A writer, if he took
      his materials from the bulletins and the official correspondence of the
      time, would compose a romance rather than a true history. Of this many
      proofs have been given in the present work.
    
The official documents were almost always wrong. There were lies in the exaggerated descriptions of his victories, and lies again in the downplaying or hiding of his defeats and losses. A writer, if he got his information from the bulletins and official correspondence of the time, would create a story instead of a true history. Many examples of this have been provided in this work.







      Another thing which always appeared to me very remarkable was, that
      Bonaparte, notwithstanding his incontestable superiority, studied to
      depreciate the reputations of his military commanders, and to throw on
      their shoulders faults which he had committed himself. It is notorious
      that complaints and remonstrances, as energetic as they were well founded,
      were frequently addressed to General Bonaparte on the subject of his
      unjust and partial bulletins, which often attributed the success of a day
      to some one who had very little to do with it, and made no mention of the
      officer who actually had the command. The complaints made by the officers
      and soldiers stationed at Damietta compelled General Lanusse, the
      commander, to remonstrate against the alteration of a bulletin, by which
      an engagement with a body of Arabs was represented as an insignificant
      affair, and the loss trifling, though the General had stated the action to
      be one of importance, and the loss considerable. The misstatement, in
      consequence of his spirited and energetic remonstrances, was corrected.
    
One thing that always struck me as remarkable was that, despite his undeniable superiority, Bonaparte tried to downplay the reputations of his military commanders and shifted blame onto them for mistakes he himself had made. It’s well-known that both high-ranking officers and soldiers frequently voiced their concerns and objections to General Bonaparte about his unfair and biased reports, which often credited someone with the day’s success who had barely contributed, while ignoring the officer who actually led the effort. The complaints from the officers and soldiers at Damietta forced General Lanusse, the commander, to protest against the changes made to a report that minimized an engagement with a group of Arabs as unimportant and downplayed the losses, even though the General had indicated that the action was significant and the losses considerable. Thanks to his bold and determined objections, the inaccuracy was rectified.







      Bonaparte took Malta, as is well known, in forty-eight hours. The empire
      of the Mediterranean, secured to the English by the battle of Aboukir, and
      their numerous cruising vessels, gave them the means of starving the
      garrison, and of thus forcing General Vaubois, the commandant of Malta,
      who was cut off from all communication with France, to capitulate.
      Accordingly on the 4th of September 1800 he yielded up the Gibraltar of
      the Mediterranean, after a noble defence of two years. These facts require
      to be stated in order the better to understand what follows.
    
Bonaparte captured Malta, as is well known, in just forty-eight hours. The British Empire's control of the Mediterranean, secured by the battle of Aboukir and their many cruising ships, gave them the ability to starve the garrison, forcing General Vaubois, the commander of Malta, who was completely cut off from communication with France, to surrender. So on September 4, 1800, he handed over the Gibraltar of the Mediterranean after a brave defense lasting two years. These details are important to mention for a better understanding of what comes next.







      On 22d February 1802 a person of the name of Doublet, who was the
      commissary of the French Government at Malta when we possessed that
      island, called upon me at the Tuileries. He complained bitterly that the
      letter which he had written from Malta to the First Consul on the 2d
      Ventose, year VIII. (9th February 1800), had been altered in the
      'Moniteur'. "I congratulated him," said M. Doublet, "on the 18th Brumaire,
      and informed him of the state of Malta, which was very alarming. Quite the
      contrary was printed in the 'Moniteur', and that is what I complain of. It
      placed me in a very disagreeable situation at Malta, where I was accused
      of having concealed the real situation of the island, in which I was
      discharging a public function that gave weight to my words." I observed to
      him that as I was not the editor of the 'Moniteur' it was of no use to
      apply to me; but I told him to give me a copy of the letter, and I would
      mention the subject to the First Consul, and communicate the answer to
      him. Doublet searched his pocket for the letter, but could not find it. He
      said he would send a copy, and begged me to discover how the error
      originated. On the same day he sent me the copy of the letter, in which,
      after congratulating Bonaparte on his return, the following passage
      occurs:—"Hasten to save Malta with men and provisions: no time is to
      be lost." For this passage these words were substituted in the 'Moniteur':
      "His name inspires the brave defenders of Malta with fresh courage; we
      have men and provisions."
    
On February 22, 1802, a man named Doublet, who was the French Government's representative in Malta when we controlled the island, visited me at the Tuileries. He expressed his frustration that the letter he had sent from Malta to the First Consul on February 9, 1800, had been changed in the 'Moniteur.' "I congratulated him," Doublet said, "on the 18th Brumaire, and informed him about the alarming situation in Malta. The opposite was published in the 'Moniteur,' and that's what I'm complaining about. It put me in a really uncomfortable position in Malta, where I was accused of hiding the true situation of the island while I was holding a public role that gave my words weight." I mentioned to him that, since I wasn’t the editor of the 'Moniteur', it was pointless to bring this up with me, but I asked him to give me a copy of the letter so I could discuss it with the First Consul and let him know the response. Doublet looked through his pocket for the letter but couldn't find it. He said he would send a copy and asked me to find out how the mistake happened. That same day, he sent me the letter, which included a part that said: "Hurry to save Malta with men and supplies: no time is to be lost." In the 'Moniteur', this was replaced with: "His name inspires the brave defenders of Malta with fresh courage; we have men and provisions."







      Ignorant of the motives of so strange a perversion, I showed this letter
      to the First Consul. He shrugged up his shoulders and said, laughing,
      "Take no notice of him, he is a fool; give yourself no further trouble
      about it."
    
Not understanding why someone would twist things so bizarrely, I showed this letter to the First Consul. He shrugged and said with a laugh, "Don't pay any attention to him, he's an idiot; don't bother yourself with it anymore."







      It was clear there was nothing more to be done. It was, however, in
      despite of me that M. Doublet was played this ill turn. I represented to
      the First Consul the inconveniences which M. Doublet might experience from
      this affair. But I very rarely saw letters or reports published as they
      were received. I can easily understand how particular motives might be
      alleged in order to justify such falsifications; for, when the path of
      candour and good faith is departed from, any pretext is put forward to
      excuse bad conduct. What sort of a history would he write who should
      consult only the pages of the 'Moniteur'?
    
It was clear that there was nothing more to be done. However, it was against my wishes that M. Doublet faced this unfair treatment. I pointed out to the First Consul the problems that M. Doublet might encounter because of this situation. But I rarely saw letters or reports published as they were originally received. I can easily understand how certain reasons might be given to justify such distortions; when honesty and good faith are abandoned, any excuse is used to defend poor behavior. What kind of history would someone write if they only referenced the pages of the 'Moniteur'?







      After the vote for adding a second ten years to the duration of
      Bonaparte's Consulship he created, on the 19th of May, the order of the
      Legion of Honour. This institution was soon followed by that of the new
      nobility. Thus, in a short space of time, the Concordat to tranquillize
      consciences and re-establish harmony in the Church; the decree to recall
      the emigrants; the continuance of the Consular power for ten years, by way
      of preparation for the Consulship for life, and the possession of the
      Empire; and the creation, in a country which had abolished all
      distinctions, of an order which was to engender prodigies, followed
      closely on the heels of each other. The Bourbons, in reviving the
      abolished orders, were wise enough to preserve along with them the Legion
      of Honour.
    
After the vote to extend Bonaparte's Consulship by another ten years, he established the Legion of Honour on May 19th. This was soon followed by the creation of a new nobility. In a short time, several significant actions took place: the Concordat to soothe people's consciences and restore harmony in the Church; the decree to bring back the emigrants; the ten-year extension of Consular power as a step towards a lifelong Consulship and eventual Empire; and the creation of an order in a country that had done away with all distinctions, which would lead to remarkable outcomes. The Bourbons, in reinstating the abolished orders, wisely chose to include the Legion of Honour as well.







      It has already been seen how, in certain circumstances, the First Consul
      always escaped from the consequences of his own precipitation, and got rid
      of his blunders by throwing the blame on others—as, for example, in
      the affair of the parallel between Caesar, Cromwell, and Bonaparte. He was
      indeed so precipitate that one might say, had he been a gardener, he would
      have wished to see the fruits ripen before the blossoms had fallen off.
      This inconsiderate haste nearly proved fatal to the creation of the Legion
      of Honour, a project which ripened in his mind as soon as he beheld the
      orders glittering at the button-holes of the Foreign Ministers. He would
      frequently exclaim, "This is well! These are the things for the people!"
    
It’s already clear how, in certain situations, the First Consul always managed to evade the fallout from his own impulsiveness and shifted the blame onto others—like in the situation comparing Caesar, Cromwell, and Bonaparte. He was so rash that one might say, if he were a gardener, he would want the fruits to ripen before the blossoms had even fallen off. This thoughtless haste almost jeopardized the creation of the Legion of Honour, a project that formed in his mind as soon as he saw the decorations shining on the lapels of the Foreign Ministers. He would often exclaim, "This is great! These are the things for the people!"







      I was, I must confess, a decided partisan of the foundation in France of a
      new chivalric order, because I think, in every well-conducted State, the
      chief of the Government ought to do all in his power to stimulate the
      honour of the citizens, and to render them more sensible to honorary
      distinctions than to pecuniary advantages. I tried, however, at the same
      time to warn the First Consul of his precipitancy. He heard me not; but I
      must with equal frankness confess that on this occasion I was soon freed
      from all apprehension with respect to the consequences of the difficulties
      he had to encounter in the Council and in the other constituted orders of
      the State.
    
I have to admit, I was a strong supporter of establishing a new chivalric order in France. I believe that in a well-run government, the leader should do everything possible to promote the honor of its citizens and make them value honors more than financial gain. However, I also tried to caution the First Consul about his hastiness. He didn’t listen to me, but I must honestly admit that I quickly felt reassured about the challenges he faced in the Council and with the other official branches of the government.







      On the 4th of May 1801 he brought forward, for the first time officially,
      in the Council of State the question of the establishment of the Legion of
      Honour, which on the 19th May 1802 was proclaimed a law of the State. The
      opposition to this measure was very great, and all the power of the First
      Consul, the force of his arguments, and the immense influence of his
      position, could procure him no more than 14 votes out of 24. The same
      feeling was displayed at the Tribunate; where the measure only passed by a
      vote of 56 to 38. The balance was about the same in the Legislative Body,
      where the votes were 166 to 110. It follows, then, that out of the 394
      voters in those three separate bodies a majority only of 78 was obtained.
      Surprised at so feeble a majority, the First Consul said in the evening,
      "Ah! I see very clearly the prejudices are still too strong. You were
      right; I should have waited. It was not a thing of such urgency. But then,
      it must be owned, the speakers for the measure defended it badly. The
      strong minority has not judged me fairly."— "Be calm," rejoined I:
      "without doubt it would have been better to wait; but the thing is done,
      and you will soon find that the taste for these distinctions is not near
      gone by. It is a taste which belongs to the nature of man. You may expect
      some extraordinary circumstances from this creation—you will soon
      see them."
    
On May 4, 1801, he officially raised the issue of establishing the Legion of Honour in the Council of State for the first time, which was declared a law on May 19, 1802. There was significant opposition to this measure, and despite all the power of the First Consul, the strength of his arguments, and the immense influence of his position, he could only secure 14 out of 24 votes. The same sentiment was evident in the Tribunate, where the measure passed by a vote of 56 to 38. The numbers were similar in the Legislative Body, with votes at 166 to 110. This means that out of the 394 voters in those three bodies, only a majority of 78 was achieved. Surprised by such a slim majority, the First Consul remarked in the evening, "Ah! I can see that the prejudices are still too strong. You were right; I should have waited. This wasn't urgent. But to be fair, the advocates for the measure didn’t defend it well. The strong minority hasn’t judged me fairly."— "Stay calm," I replied: "It would have probably been better to wait; but it’s done now, and you’ll soon see that the desire for these distinctions isn’t gone. It’s a part of human nature. You can expect some extraordinary outcomes from this creation—you’ll see them soon."







      In April 1802 the First Consul left no stone unturned to get himself
      declared Consul for life. It is perhaps at this epoch of his career that
      he most brought into play those principles of duplicity and dissimulation
      which are commonly called Machiavellian. Never were trickery, falsehood,
      cunning, and affected moderation put into play with more talent or
      success.
    
In April 1802, the First Consul did everything he could to be named Consul for life. It’s probably during this time in his career that he most effectively used the tactics of deceit and pretension that we often refer to as Machiavellian. Never before had deception, lies, cleverness, and feigned restraint been employed with such skill or success.







      In the month of March hereditary succession and a dynasty were in
      everybody's mouths. Lucien was the most violent propagator of these ideas,
      and he pursued his vocation of apostle with constancy and address. It has
      already been mentioned that, by his brother's confession; he published in
      1800 a pamphlet enforcing the same ideas; which work Bonaparte afterwards
      condemned as a premature development of his projects. M. de Talleyrand,
      whose ideas could not be otherwise than favourable to the monarchical form
      of government, was ready to enter into explanations with the Cabinets of
      Europe on the subject. The words which now constantly resounded in every
      ear were "stability and order," under cloak of which the downfall of the
      people's right was to be concealed. At the same time Bonaparte, with the
      view of disparaging the real friends of constitutional liberty, always
      called them ideologues,
    
In March, everyone was talking about hereditary succession and dynasties. Lucien was the most passionate supporter of these ideas, and he pursued his role as an advocate with determination and skill. It’s already been noted that, according to his brother's confession, he published a pamphlet in 1800 promoting the same ideas; which Bonaparte later criticized as an unnecessary advance of his plans. M. de Talleyrand, whose views were definitely in favor of monarchy, was ready to engage with the governments of Europe on the topic. The phrases that echoed in everyone's ears were "stability and order," under which the erosion of the people's rights was to be hidden. Meanwhile, Bonaparte, aiming to discredit the genuine supporters of constitutional freedom, consistently labeled them as ideologues.






 —[I have classed all these people under the denomination of
   Ideologues, which, besides, is what specially and literally fits
   them,—searchers after ideas (ideas generally empty). They have
   been made more ridiculous than even I expected by this application,
   a correct one, of the term ideologue to them. The phrase has been
   successful, I believe, because it was mine (Napoleon in Iung's
   Lucien, tome ii. p, 293). Napoleon welcomed every attack on this
   description of sage. Much pleased with a discourse by Royer
   Collard, he said to Talleyrand, "Do you know, Monsieur is Grand
   Electeur, that a new and serious philosophy is rising in my
   university, which may do us great honour and disembarrass us
   completely of the ideologues, slaying them on the spot by
   reasoning?" It is with something of the same satisfaction that
   Renan, writing of 1898, says that the finer dreams had been
   disastrous when brought into the domain of facts, and that human
   concerns only began to improve when the ideologues ceased to meddle
   with them (Souvenirs, p. 122).]— 
 —[I've classified all these people as Ideologues, which definitely fits them—searchers for ideas (generally empty ideas). They've become even more ridiculous than I expected thanks to this accurate application of the term ideologue to them. The phrase has caught on, I believe, because it was my own (Napoleon in Iung's Lucien, tome ii. p. 293). Napoleon welcomed every critique of this type of sage. He was quite pleased with a speech by Royer Collard and said to Talleyrand, "Do you know, Monsieur le Grand Electeur, that a new and serious philosophy is emerging in my university, which could bring us great honor and completely rid us of the ideologues, defeating them right on the spot with reasoning?" It's with a similar sense of satisfaction that Renan, writing in 1898, states that the lofty dreams ended up being disastrous when they entered the realm of facts, and that human situations only began to improve once the ideologues stopped interfering with them (Souvenirs, p. 122).]—







      or terrorists. Madame Bonaparte opposed with fortitude the influence of
      counsels which she believed fatal to her husband. He indeed spoke rarely,
      and seldom confidentially, with her on politics or public affairs. "Mind
      your distaff or your needle," was with him a common phrase. The
      individuals who applied themselves with most perseverance in support of
      the hereditary question were Lucien, Roederer, Regnault de St. Jean
      d'Angély, and Fontanel. Their efforts were aided by the conclusion of
      peace with England, which, by re-establishing general tranquillity for a
      time, afforded the First Consul an opportunity of forwarding any plan.
    
or terrorists. Madame Bonaparte strongly opposed the advice that she believed would harm her husband. He rarely talked to her about politics or public matters, and when he did, it was not in a very personal way. "Stick to your sewing or your household tasks," was a phrase he often used. The people who worked hardest to support the idea of hereditary power were Lucien, Roederer, Regnault de St. Jean d'Angély, and Fontanel. Their efforts were bolstered by the peace agreement with England, which, by temporarily restoring overall calm, gave the First Consul a chance to advance any plans.







      While the First Consul aspired to the throne of France, his brothers,
      especially Lucien, affected a ridiculous pride and pretension. Take an
      almost incredible example of which I was witness. On Sunday, the 9th of
      May, Lucien came to see Madame Bonaparte, who said to him, "Why did you
      not come to dinner last Monday?"—"Because there was no place marked
      for me: the brothers of Napoleon ought to have the first place after him."—
      "What am I to understand by that?" answered Madame Bonaparte. "If you are
      the brother of Bonaparte, recollect what you were. At my house all places
      are the same. Eugène world never have committed such a folly."
    
While the First Consul aimed for the throne of France, his brothers, especially Lucien, displayed a ridiculous sense of pride and entitlement. Let me share an almost unbelievable example that I witnessed. On Sunday, May 9th, Lucien visited Madame Bonaparte, who asked him, "Why didn’t you come to dinner last Monday?"—"Because there was no seating reserved for me: the brothers of Napoleon should have the top spot right after him."—"What am I supposed to make of that?" replied Madame Bonaparte. "If you're Bonaparte's brother, remember where you came from. In my house, all seats are equal. Eugène would never have acted so foolishly."






 —[On such points there was constant trouble with the Bonapartist
   family, as will be seen in Madame de Rémusat's Memoirs. For an
   instance, in 1812, where Joseph insisted on his mother taking
   precedence of Josephine at a dinner in his house, when Napoleon
   settled the matter by seizing Josephine's arm and leading her in
   first, to the consternation of the party. But Napoleon, right in
   this case, had his own ideas on such points, The place of the
   Princess Elisa, the eldest of his sisters, had been put below that
   of Caroline, Queen of Naples. Elisa was then only princess of
   Lucca. The Emperor suddenly rose, and by a shift to the right
   placed the Princess Elisa above the Queen. 'Now,' said he, 'do not
   forget that in the imperial family I am the only King.' (Iung's
   Lucien, tome ii. p. 251), This rule he seems to have adhered to,
   for when he and his brothers went in the same carriage to the Champ
   de Mai in 1815, Jerome, titular King of Westphalia, had to take the
   front seat, while his elder brother, Lucien, only bearing the Roman
   title of Prince de Canino, sat on one of the seats of honour
   alongside Napoleon. Jerome was disgusted, and grumbled at a King
   having to give way to a mere Roman Prince, See Iung's Lucien, tome
   ii. p, 190.]— 
—[There was always tension with the Bonapartist family, as seen in Madame de Rémusat's Memoirs. For instance, in 1812, Joseph demanded that his mother be seated before Josephine at dinner in his home, but Napoleon resolved the issue by grabbing Josephine's arm and leading her in first, shocking the guests. Napoleon, however, was right in this situation; he had his own views on such matters. The seating arrangement meant that Princess Elisa, his eldest sister, was placed lower than Caroline, the Queen of Naples, even though Elisa was just the princess of Lucca. Suddenly, the Emperor stood up and shifted things, seating Princess Elisa above the Queen. 'Now,' he declared, 'don’t forget that in the imperial family, I am the only King.' (Iung's Lucien, tome ii. p. 251) This rule seemed to be something he followed consistently, because when he and his brothers rode in the same carriage to the Champ de Mai in 1815, Jerome, the titular King of Westphalia, had to take the front seat, while his older brother, Lucien, who only held the Roman title of Prince de Canino, sat in one of the honor seats beside Napoleon. Jerome was annoyed and complained about a King having to defer to a mere Roman Prince. See Iung's Lucien, tome ii. p. 190.]—







      At this period, when the Consulate for life was only in embryo, flattering
      counsels poured in from all quarters, and tended to encourage the First
      Consul in his design of grasping at absolute power.
    
At this time, when the Consulate for life was just beginning, flattering advice came from all sides and encouraged the First Consul in his goal of seizing absolute power.







      Liberty rejected an unlimited power, and set bounds to the means he wished
      and had to employ in order to gratify his excessive love of war and
      conquest. "The present state of things, this Consulate of ten years," said
      he to me, does not satisfy me; "I consider it calculated to excite
      unceasing troubles." On the 7th of July 1801, he observed, "The question
      whether France will be a Republic is still doubtful: it will be decided in
      five or six years." It was clear that he thought this too long a term.
      Whether he regarded France as his property, or considered himself as the
      people's delegate and the defender of their rights, I am convinced the
      First Consul wished the welfare of France; but then that welfare was in
      his mind inseparable from absolute power. It was with pain I saw him
      following this course. The friends of liberty, those who sincerely wished
      to maintain a Government constitutionally free, allowed themselves to be
      prevailed upon to consent to an extension of ten years of power beyond the
      ten years originally granted by the constitution. They made this sacrifice
      to glory and to that power which was its consequence; and they were far
      from thinking they were lending their support to shameless intrigues. They
      were firm, but for the moment only, and the nomination for life was
      rejected by the Senate, who voted only ten years more power to Bonaparte,
      who saw the vision of his ambition again adjourned.
    
Liberty rejected unlimited power and set limits on the means he wanted and needed to satisfy his overwhelming desire for war and conquest. "The current situation, this Consulate of ten years," he told me, "doesn’t satisfy me; I believe it's likely to lead to endless problems." On July 7, 1801, he noted, "The question of whether France will be a Republic is still uncertain: it will be decided in five or six years." It was clear he thought that was too long to wait. Whether he viewed France as his possession or saw himself as the people's representative and protector of their rights, I truly believe the First Consul wanted the best for France; but he associated that best with absolute power. It pained me to see him take this direction. Advocates of liberty, those who genuinely wanted to maintain a constitutionally free government, allowed themselves to be persuaded to agree to an extension of ten more years of power beyond the original ten years granted by the constitution. They made this sacrifice for glory and the power that came with it, unaware that they were supporting disgraceful schemes. They stood firm, but only for that moment, and the Senate rejected the life nomination, voting to give Bonaparte just ten more years of power, pushing his ambitious dreams further out of reach.







      The First Consul dissembled his displeasure with that profound art which,
      when he could not do otherwise, he exercised to an extreme degree. To a
      message of the Senate on the subject of that nomination he returned a calm
      but evasive and equivocating answer, in which, nourishing his favourite
      hope of obtaining more from the people than from the Senate, he declared
      with hypocritical humility, "That he would submit to this new sacrifice if
      the wish of the people demanded what the Senate authorised." Such was the
      homage he paid to the sovereignty of the people, which was soon to be
      trampled under his feet!
    
The First Consul hid his displeasure with an impressive skill that he often used to the maximum when he had no other choice. In response to a message from the Senate about that nomination, he gave a calm yet ambiguous and indecisive answer. While secretly hoping to gain more support from the people than from the Senate, he pretended to be humble, stating, "I will accept this new sacrifice if the people's wish calls for what the Senate has approved." This was the tribute he paid to the people's sovereignty, which he was soon going to stomp on!







      An extraordinary convocation of the Council of State took place on Monday,
      the 10th of May. A communication was made to them, not merely of the
      Senate's consultation, but also of the First Consul's adroit and insidious
      reply. The Council regarded the first merely as a notification, and
      proceeded to consider on what question the people should be consulted. Not
      satisfied with granting to the First Consul ten years of prerogative, the
      Council thought it best to strike the iron while it was hot, and not to
      stop short in the middle of so pleasing a work. In fine, they decided that
      the following question should be put to the people: "Shall the First
      Consul be appointed for life, and shall he have the power of nominating
      his successor?" The reports of the police had besides much influence on
      the result of this discussion, for they one and all declared that the
      whole of Paris demanded a Consul for life, with the right of naming a
      successor. The decisions on these two questions were carried as it were by
      storm. The appointment for life passed unanimously, and the right of
      naming the successor by a majority. The First Consul, however, formally
      declared that he condemned this second measure, which had not originated
      with himself. On receiving the decision of the Council of State the First
      Consul, to mask his plan for attaining absolute power, thought it
      advisable to appear to reject a part of what was offered him. He therefore
      cancelled that clause which proposed to give him the power of appointing a
      successor, and which had been carried by a small majority.
    
An extraordinary meeting of the Council of State was held on Monday, May 10th. They received not only the Senate's suggestions but also the First Consul's clever and crafty response. The Council viewed the first as just an announcement and then moved on to decide what question should be put to the public. They weren't content with just giving the First Consul ten years of authority; they thought it was best to act while the moment was right and to fully commit to such a favorable task. Ultimately, they decided to ask the people: "Should the First Consul be appointed for life, and should he have the power to choose his successor?" Additionally, police reports heavily influenced the outcome of this discussion, as they all stated that everyone in Paris wanted a Consul for life with the right to name a successor. The votes on these two questions were overwhelmingly in favor. The life appointment passed unanimously, while the right to name a successor was approved by a majority. However, the First Consul officially stated that he opposed the second measure, which did not originate from him. Upon receiving the Council of State's decision, the First Consul, to mask his intentions of gaining absolute power, thought it wise to appear to reject part of what was proposed. Therefore, he eliminated the clause that would have given him the power to appoint a successor, which had passed by a narrow margin.








 


 




















      CHAPTER X.
    



      1802.
    
1802.


   General Bernadotte pacifies La vendee and suppresses a mutiny at
   Tours—Bonaparte's injustice towards him—A premeditated scene—
   Advice given to Bernadotte, and Bonaparte disappointed—The First
   Consul's residence at St. Cloud—His rehearsals for the Empire—
   His contempt of mankind—Mr. Fox and Bonaparte—Information of plans
   of assassination—A military dinner given by Bonaparte—Moreau not
   of the party—Effect of the 'Senates-consultes' on the Consulate for
   life—Journey to Plombieres—Previous scene between Lucien and
   Josephine—Theatrical representations at Neuilly and Malmaison—
   Loss of a watch, and honesty rewarded—Canova at St. Cloud—
   Bonaparte's reluctance to stand for a model.

   General Bernadotte brings peace to La Vendee and puts down a mutiny in Tours—Bonaparte's unfair treatment of him—A planned scene—Advice given to Bernadotte, leaving Bonaparte disappointed—The First Consul's home at St. Cloud—His preparations for the Empire—His disdain for humanity—Mr. Fox and Bonaparte—Information on assassination plots—A military dinner hosted by Bonaparte—Moreau not included—Impact of the 'Senates-consultes' on the Consulate for life—Trip to Plombieres—A previous encounter between Lucien and Josephine—Theatrical performances at Neuilly and Malmaison—Loss of a watch, with honesty rewarded—Canova at St. Cloud—Bonaparte's unwillingness to pose as a model.







      Having arrived at nearly the middle of the career which I have undertaken
      to trace, before I advance farther I must go back for a few moments, as I
      have already frequently done, in order to introduce some circumstances
      which escaped my recollection, or which I purposely reserved, that I might
      place them amongst facts analogous to them: Thus, for instance, I have
      only referred in passing to a man who, since become a monarch, has not
      ceased to honour me with his friendship, as will be seen in the course of
      my Memoirs, since the part we have seen him play in the events of the 18th
      Brumaire. This man, whom the inexplicable combination of events has raised
      to a throne for the happiness of the people he is called to govern, is
      Bernadotte.
    
Having reached almost the midpoint of the career I’m documenting, I need to take a moment to go back, as I’ve often done, to mention some details that slipped my mind or that I intentionally set aside to connect with related facts. For example, I only briefly mentioned a man who has since become a monarch and who continues to honor me with his friendship, as you will see in my Memoirs, especially regarding his role in the events of the 18th Brumaire. This man, whose unexpected rise to the throne has been a blessing for the people he governs, is Bernadotte.







      It was evident that Bernadotte must necessarily fall into a kind of
      disgrace for not having supported Bonaparte's projects at the period of
      the overthrow of the Directory. The First Consul, however, did not dare to
      avenge himself openly; but he watched for every opportunity to remove
      Bernadotte from his presence, to place him in difficult situations, and to
      entrust him with missions for which no precise instructions were given, in
      the hope that Bernadotte would commit faults for which the First Consul
      might make him wholly responsible.
    
It was clear that Bernadotte was bound to fall into disgrace for not supporting Bonaparte’s plans during the fall of the Directory. However, the First Consul didn’t openly seek revenge; instead, he looked for every chance to push Bernadotte away, put him in tough situations, and assign him tasks without clear instructions, hoping that Bernadotte would make mistakes that he could then blame him for.







      At the commencement of the Consulate the deplorable war in La Vendée raged
      in all its intensity. The organization of the Chouans was complete, and
      this civil war caused Bonaparte much more uneasiness than that which he
      was obliged to conduct on the Rhine and in Italy, because, from the
      success of the Vendeans might arise a question respecting internal
      government, the solution of which was likely to be contrary to Bonaparte's
      views. The slightest success of the Vendeans spread alarm amongst the
      holders of national property; and, besides, there was no hope of
      reconciliation between France and England, her eternal and implacable
      enemy, as long as the flame of insurrection remained unextinguished.
    
At the start of the Consulate, the terrible war in La Vendée was at its peak. The Chouans were fully organized, and this civil war troubled Bonaparte much more than the conflicts he had to manage on the Rhine and in Italy, because if the Vendeans succeeded, it could raise questions about internal governance that would likely go against Bonaparte's interests. Even the smallest success for the Vendeans created panic among those who owned national property; plus, there was no hope for reconciliation between France and England, her eternal and relentless enemy, as long as the insurrection continued to burn.







      The task of terminating this unhappy struggle was obviously a difficult
      one. Bonaparte therefore resolved to impose it on Bernadotte; but this
      general's conciliatory disposition, his chivalrous manners, his tendency
      to indulgence, and a happy mixture of prudence and firmness, made him
      succeed where others would have failed. He finally established good order
      and submission to the laws.
    
The job of ending this tough conflict was clearly a challenging one. Bonaparte decided to give it to Bernadotte; however, this general's friendly attitude, gallant behavior, tendency to be lenient, and a great balance of caution and determination allowed him to succeed where others would have struggled. He ultimately created order and ensured compliance with the laws.







      Some time after the pacification of La Vendée a rebellious disposition
      manifested itself at Tours amongst the soldiers of a regiment stationed
      there. The men refused to march until they received their arrears of pay.
      Bernadotte, as commander-in-chief of the army of the west, without being
      alarmed at the disturbance, ordered the fifty-second demi-brigade—
      the one in question—to be drawn up in the square of Tours, where, at
      the very head of the corps, the leaders of the mutiny were by his orders
      arrested without any resistance being offered. Carnot who was then
      Minister of War, made a report to the First Consul on this affair, which,
      but for the firmness of Bernadotte, might have been attended with
      disagreeable results. Carnet's report contained a plain statement of the
      facts, and of General Bernadotte's conduct. Bonaparte was, however,
      desirous to find in it some pretext for blaming him, and made me write
      these words on the margin of the report: "General Bernadotte did not act
      discreetly in adopting such severe measures against the fifty-second
      demi-brigade, he not having the means, if he had been unsuccessful, of
      re-establishing order in a town the garrison of which was not strong
      enough to subdue the mutineers."
    
Some time after the pacification of La Vendée, a rebellious attitude emerged among the soldiers of a regiment stationed in Tours. The men refused to march until their back pay was issued. Bernadotte, as commander-in-chief of the army of the west, ordered the fifty-second demi-brigade—the one in question—to assemble in the square of Tours, where he had the leaders of the mutiny arrested without any resistance. Carnot, who was then the Minister of War, reported this incident to the First Consul, which, without Bernadotte’s firmness, could have led to serious consequences. Carnot's report provided a clear account of the facts and General Bernadotte's actions. However, Bonaparte wanted to find a reason to criticize him and had me write in the margin of the report: "General Bernadotte did not act wisely in using such harsh measures against the fifty-second demi-brigade, as he lacked the means to restore order in a town whose garrison was not strong enough to suppress the mutineers."







      A few days after, the First Consul having learned that the result of this
      affair was quite different from that which he affected to dread, and being
      convinced that by Bernadotte's firmness alone order had been restored, he
      found himself in some measure constrained to write to the General, and he
      dictated the following letter to me:
    
A few days later, the First Consul, having discovered that the outcome of this situation was actually quite different from what he pretended to fear, and realizing that it was Bernadotte's determination that had brought back order, felt somewhat obliged to write to the General. He dictated the following letter to me:






               PARIS, 11th Vendemiaire. Year XI.

   CITIZEN-GENERAL—I have read with interest the account of what you
   did to re-establish order in the fifty-second demi-brigade, and
   also the report of General Liebert, dated the 5th Vendemiaire.
   Tell that officer that the Government is satisfied with his conduct.
   His promotion from the rank of Colonel to that of General of brigade
   is confirmed. I wish that brave officer to come to Paris. He has
   afforded an example of firmness and energy which does honour to a
   soldier.
                    (Signed) BONAPARTE.

               PARIS, 11th Vendemiaire. Year XI.

   CITIZEN-GENERAL—I've read with interest your account of how you restored order in the fifty-second demi-brigade, as well as General Liebert's report from the 5th Vendemiaire. Please tell him that the Government is pleased with his actions. His promotion from Colonel to General of brigade is confirmed. I want that brave officer to come to Paris. He has set a commendable example of strength and determination that reflects well on a soldier.
                    (Signed) BONAPARTE.







      Thus in the same affair Bonaparte, in a few days, from the spontaneous
      expression of blame dictated by hate, was reduced to the necessity of
      declaring his approbation, which he did, as may be seen, with studied
      coldness, and even taking pains to make his praises apply to Colonel
      Liebert, and not to the general-in-chief.
    
Thus in the same situation, Bonaparte, in a matter of days, went from expressing blame out of hate to having to declare his approval, which he did, as can be seen, with deliberate indifference, and even going out of his way to ensure his praise was directed at Colonel Liebert and not the general-in-chief.







      Time only served to augment Bonaparte's dislike of Bernadotte. It might be
      said that the farther he advanced in his rapid march towards absolute
      power the more animosity he cherished against the individual who had
      refused to aid his first steps in his adventurous career. At the same time
      the persons about Bonaparte who practised the art of flattering failed not
      to multiply reports and insinuations against Bernadotte. I recollect one
      day, when there was to be a grand public levee, seeing Bonaparte so much
      out of temper that I asked him the cause of it. "I can bear it no longer,"
      he replied impetuously. "I have resolved to have a scene with Bernadotte
      to-day. He will probably be here. I will open the fire, let what will come
      of it. He may do what he pleases. We shall see! It is time there should be
      an end of this."
    
Time only intensified Bonaparte's dislike for Bernadotte. It could be said that as he moved closer to absolute power, his resentment for the person who had refused to support his initial steps in his ambitious journey grew stronger. At the same time, the people around Bonaparte who were skilled in flattery didn't hesitate to spread rumors and insinuations about Bernadotte. I remember one day, during a big public gathering, seeing Bonaparte in such a bad mood that I asked him what was wrong. "I can't take it anymore," he said impulsively. "I've decided that I'm going to confront Bernadotte today. He’ll probably be here. I’ll start it, whatever happens. He can do what he wants. We’ll see! It’s time to put an end to this."







      I had never before observed the First Consul so violently irritated. He
      was in a terrible passion, and I dreaded the moment when the levee was to
      open. When he left me to go down to the salon I availed myself of the
      opportunity to get there before him, which I could easily do, as the salon
      was not twenty steps from the cabinet. By good luck Bernadotte was the
      first person I saw. He was standing in the recess of a window which looked
      on the square of the Carrousel. To cross the salon and reach the General
      was the work of a moment. "General!" said I, "trust me and retire!—I
      have good reasons for advising it!" Bernadotte, seeing my extreme anxiety,
      and aware of the sincere sentiments of esteem end friendship which I
      entertained for him, consented to retire, and I regarded this as a
      triumph; for, knowing Bernadotte's frankness of character and his nice
      sense of honour, I was quite certain that he would not submit to the harsh
      observations which Bonaparte intended to address to him. My stratagem had
      all the success I could desire. The First Consul suspected nothing, and
      remarked only one thing, which was that his victim was absent. When the
      levee was over he said to me, "What do you think of it, Bourrienne?—-Bernadotte
      did not come."—"So much the better for him, General," was my reply.
      Nothing further happened. The First Consul on returning from Josephine
      found me in the cabinet, and consequently could suspect nothing, and my
      communication with Bernadotte did not occupy five minutes. Bernadotte
      always expressed himself much gratified with the proof of friendship I
      gave him at this delicate conjuncture. The fact is, that from a
      disposition of my mind, which I could not myself account for, the more
      Bonaparte'a unjust hatred of Bernadotte increased the more sympathy and
      admiration I felt for the noble character of the latter.
    
I had never seen the First Consul so intensely angry before. He was furious, and I dreaded when the levee would start. When he left me to go down to the salon, I took the chance to get there before him since the salon was only twenty steps from the cabinet. Luckily, Bernadotte was the first person I saw. He was standing in the recess of a window overlooking the square of the Carrousel. It took me no time to cross the salon and reach the General. "General!" I said, "trust me and leave! I have good reasons for saying this!" Bernadotte, noticing my extreme anxiety and knowing the genuine esteem and friendship I felt for him, agreed to leave, and I saw this as a victory. Knowing Bernadotte's honesty and strong sense of honor, I was sure he wouldn’t put up with the harsh remarks Bonaparte was planning to direct at him. My plan worked perfectly. The First Consul had no idea and only noted that his target was missing. When the levee ended, he said to me, "What do you think, Bourrienne? Bernadotte didn’t come." "That’s better for him, General," I replied. Nothing more came of it. When the First Consul returned from Josephine, he found me in the cabinet, so he had no reason to suspect anything, and my chat with Bernadotte was brief, lasting no longer than five minutes. Bernadotte always expressed gratitude for the friendship I showed him during that difficult moment. The truth is, for reasons I couldn't explain, the more Bonaparte's unjust hatred for Bernadotte grew, the more sympathy and admiration I felt for Bernadotte's noble character.







      The event in question occurred in the spring of 1802. It was at this
      period that Bonaparte first occupied St. Cloud, which he was much pleased
      with, because he found himself more at liberty there than at the
      Tuileries; which palace is really only a prison for royalty, as there a
      sovereign cannot even take the air at a window without immediately being
      the object of the curiosity of the public, who collect in large crowds. At
      St. Cloud, on the contrary, Bonaparte could walk out from his cabinet and
      prolong his promenade without being annoyed by petitioners. One of his
      first steps was to repair the cross road leading from St. Cloud to
      Malmaison, between which places Bonaparte rode in a quarter of an hour.
      This proximity to the country, which he liked, made staying at St. Cloud
      yet pleasanter to him. It was at St. Cloud that the First Consul made, if
      I may so express it, his first rehearsals of the grand drama of the
      Empire. It was there he began to introduce, in external forms, the habits
      and etiquette which brought to mind the ceremonies of sovereignty. He soon
      perceived the influence which pomp of ceremony, brilliancy of appearance,
      and richness of costume, exercise over the mass of mankind. "Men," he
      remarked to me a this period, "well deserve the contempt I feel for them.
      I have only to put some gold lace on the coats of my virtuous republicans
      and they immediately become just what I wish them."
    
The event in question took place in the spring of 1802. It was during this time that Bonaparte first settled in St. Cloud, which he enjoyed because he felt freer there than at the Tuileries; that palace is really just a gilded cage for royalty, as a sovereign can't even look out the window without attracting the curiosity of the public, who gather in large crowds. In St. Cloud, on the other hand, Bonaparte could step out from his office and extend his walk without being bothered by petitioners. One of his first actions was to fix the road connecting St. Cloud to Malmaison, a distance he could cover in just fifteen minutes. This closeness to the countryside, which he favored, made his time at St. Cloud all the more enjoyable. It was here that the First Consul began, if I may put it this way, his first rehearsals for the grand performance of the Empire. He started to introduce, through external appearances, the customs and etiquette that evoked the ceremonies of sovereignty. He quickly understood the power that spectacle, impressive appearances, and rich clothing have over the masses. "People," he told me at this time, "truly deserve the contempt I feel for them. I just have to add some gold lace to the coats of my righteous republicans, and they instantly become exactly what I want them to be."







      I remember one day, after one of his frequent sallies of contempt for
      human kind, I observed to him that although baubles might excite vulgar
      admiration, there were some distinguished men who did not permit
      themselves to be fascinated by their allurements; and I mentioned the
      celebrated Fox by way of example, who, previous to the conclusion of the
      peace of Amiens, visited Paris, where he was remarked for his extreme
      simplicity. The First Consul said, "Ah! you are right with respect to him.
      Mr. Fox is a truly great man, and pleases me much."
    
I remember one day, after one of his usual outbursts of disdain for humanity, I pointed out that while flashy things might attract basic admiration, there were some distinguished individuals who didn’t let themselves be captivated by their charms. I mentioned the famous Fox as an example, who, before the peace of Amiens was signed, visited Paris, where people noted his remarkable simplicity. The First Consul said, "Ah! You’re right about him. Mr. Fox is a truly great man, and I admire him a lot."







      In fact, Bonaparte always received Mr. Fox's visits with the greatest
      satisfaction; and after every conversation they had together he never
      failed to express to me the pleasure which he experienced in discoursing
      with a man every way worthy of the great celebrity he had attained. He
      considered him a very superior man, and wished he might have to treat with
      him in his future negotiations with England. It may be supposed that Mr.
      Fox, on his part, never forgot the terms of intimacy, I may say of
      confidence, on which he had been with the First Consul. In fact, he on
      several occasions informed him in time of war of the plots formed against
      his life. Less could not be expected from a man of so noble a character. I
      can likewise affirm, having more than once been in possession of proofs of
      the fact, that the English Government constantly rejected with indignation
      all such projects. I do not mean those which had for their object the
      overthrow of the Consular or Imperial Government, but all plans of
      assassination and secret attacks on the person of Bonaparte, whether First
      Consul or Emperor. I will here request the indulgence of the reader whilst
      I relate a circumstance which occurred a year before Mr. Fox's journey to
      Paris; but as it refers to Moreau, I believe that the transposition will
      be pardoned more easily than the omission.
    
In fact, Bonaparte always welcomed Mr. Fox's visits with great pleasure, and after each conversation, he would tell me how much he enjoyed discussing matters with someone truly deserving of the fame he had achieved. He regarded him as a very impressive person and hoped to negotiate with him in future dealings with England. It’s safe to say that Mr. Fox, for his part, never forgot the close, I might say confidential, relationship he had with the First Consul. In fact, he informed him several times during the war about plots against his life. One would expect nothing less from a man of such noble character. I can also confirm, having had proof on more than one occasion, that the English Government consistently rejected with anger all such schemes. I'm not referring to those aimed at overthrowing the Consular or Imperial Government, but rather all plans of assassination and secret attacks against Bonaparte, whether he was First Consul or Emperor. I ask the reader's patience as I share an incident that took place a year before Mr. Fox's trip to Paris; however, since it relates to Moreau, I believe the shift will be more easily forgiven than leaving it out entirely.







      During the summer 1801 the First Consul took a fancy to give a grand
      military dinner at a restaurateur's. The restaurateur he favoured with his
      company was Veri, whose establishment was situated on the terrace of the
      Feuillans with an entrance into the garden of the Tuileries. Bonaparte did
      not send an invitation to Moreau, whom I met by chance that day in the
      following manner:—The ceremony of the dinner at Veri's leaving me at
      liberty to dispose of my time, I availed myself of it to go and dine at a
      restaurateur's named Rose, who then enjoyed great celebrity amongst the
      distinguished gastronomes. I dined in company with M. Carbonnet, a friend
      of Moreau's family, and two or three other persons. Whilst we were at
      table in the rotunda we were informed by the waiter who attended on us
      that General Moreau and his wife, with Lacuee and two other military men,
      were in an adjoining apartment. Suchet, who had dined at Veri's, where he
      said everything was prodigiously dull, on rising from the table joined
      Moreau's party. These details we learned from M. Carbonnet, who left us
      for a few moments to see the General and Madame Moreau.
    
During the summer of 1801, the First Consul decided to host a grand military dinner at a restaurant. The restaurant he chose was Veri’s, located on the terrace of the Feuillants with an entrance to the Tuileries garden. Bonaparte didn’t invite Moreau, whom I ran into that day in the following way: The dinner at Veri's left me free to spend my time as I wished, so I took the opportunity to dine at a restaurant called Rose, which was quite popular among food enthusiasts at the time. I dined with M. Carbonnet, a friend of Moreau's family, and a couple of others. While we were at our table in the rotunda, the waiter informed us that General Moreau and his wife, along with Lacuee and two other military men, were in an adjoining room. Suchet, who had eaten at Veri's and said it was exceedingly dull, joined Moreau's group after getting up from his table. We learned these details from M. Carbonnet, who left us briefly to visit General and Madame Moreau.







      Bonaparte's affectation in not inviting Moreau at the moment when the
      latter had returned a conqueror from the army of the Rhine, and at the
      same time the affectation of Moreau in going publicly the same day to dine
      at another restaurateur's, afforded ground for the supposition that the
      coolness which existed between them would soon be converted into enmity.
      The people of Paris naturally thought that the conqueror of Marengo might,
      without any degradation, have given the conqueror of Hohenlinden a seat at
      his table.
    
Bonaparte's pretentiousness in not inviting Moreau right after he returned as a victor from the army of the Rhine, along with Moreau's equally pretentious decision to publicly dine that same day at another restaurant, led people to believe that the tension between them would likely turn into hostility. The people of Paris naturally thought that the victor of Marengo could have, without any loss of status, invited the victor of Hohenlinden to sit at his table.







      By the commencement of the year 1802 the Republic had ceased to be
      anything else than a fiction, or an historical recollection. All that
      remained of it was a deceptive inscription on the gates of the Palace.
      Even at the time of his installation at the Tuileries, Bonaparte had
      caused the two trees of liberty which were planted in the court to be cut
      down; thus removing the outward emblems before he destroyed the reality.
      But the moment the Senatorial decisions of the 2d and 4th of August were
      published it was evident to the dullest perceptions that the power of the
      First Consul wanted nothing but a name.
    
By the start of 1802, the Republic had become nothing more than a fiction or a memory of history. All that was left was a misleading sign on the gates of the Palace. Even when he took office at the Tuileries, Bonaparte had the two liberty trees in the courtyard cut down; he removed the visible symbols before erasing the reality. But as soon as the Senate's decisions from August 2nd and 4th were made public, it was clear to even the thickest minds that the power of the First Consul was just a name.







      After these 'Consultes' Bonaparte readily accustomed himself to regard the
      principal authorities of the State merely as necessary instruments for the
      exercise of his power. Interested advisers then crowded round him. It was
      seriously proposed that he should restore the ancient titles, as being
      more in harmony with the new power which the people had confided to him
      than the republican forms. He was still of opinion, however, according to
      his phrase, that "the pear was not yet ripe," and would not hear this
      project spoken of for a moment. "All this," he said to me one day, "will
      come in good time; but you must see, Bourrienne, that it is necessary I
      should, in the first place, assume a title, from which the others that I
      will give to everybody will naturally take their origin. The greatest
      difficulty is surmounted. There is no longer any person to deceive.
      Everybody sees as clear as day that it is only one step which separates
      the throne from the Consulate for life. However, we must be cautious.
      There are some troublesome fellows in the Tribunate, but I will take care
      of them."
    
After these 'Consultes,' Bonaparte quickly got used to viewing the main authorities of the State as just necessary tools for exercising his power. Interested advisers crowded around him. It was seriously suggested that he should restore the old titles, as they aligned better with the new power that the people had entrusted to him than the republican forms. However, he still believed, in his words, that "the pear was not yet ripe," and he wouldn’t entertain the idea for a second. "All of this," he told me one day, "will come in good time; but you must understand, Bourrienne, that I first need to take a title from which all the others I will give to everyone else will naturally follow. The biggest obstacle has been overcome. There is no one left to deceive. Everyone sees clearly that there is only one step separating the throne from the Consulate for life. However, we have to be careful. There are some annoying people in the Tribunate, but I will deal with them."







      Whilst these serious questions agitated men's minds the greater part of
      the residents at Malmaison took a trip to Plombieres. Josephine,
      Bonaparte's mother, Madame Beauharnais-Lavallette, Hortense, and General
      Rapp, were of this party. It pleased the fancy of the jocund company to
      address to me a bulletin of the pleasant and unpleasant occurrences of the
      journey. I insert this letter merely as a proof of the intimacy which
      existed between the writers and myself. It follows, precisely as I have
      preserved it, with the exception of the blots, for which it will be seen
      they apologised.
    
While these serious questions troubled people's minds, most of the residents at Malmaison took a trip to Plombières. Joséphine, Bonaparte's mother, Madame Beauharnais-Lavallette, Hortense, and General Rapp were part of the group. The cheerful company decided to send me a bulletin about the pleasant and unpleasant events of their journey. I'm including this letter solely as proof of the close relationship I had with the writers. It follows exactly as I kept it, except for the smudges, for which they apologized.






        AN ACCOUNT OF THE JOURNEY TO PLOMBIERES.
          To the Inhabitants of Malmaison.

        AN ACCOUNT OF THE JOURNEY TO PLOMBIERES.
          To the Residents of Malmaison.







      The whole party left Malmaison in tears, which brought on such dreadful
      headaches that all the amiable persons were quite overcome by the idea of
      the journey. Madame Bonaparte, mere, supported the fatigues of this
      memorable day with the greatest courage; but Madame Bonaparte, Consulesse,
      did not show any. The two young ladies who sat in the dormouse,
      Mademoiselle Hortense and Madame Lavallette, were rival candidates for a
      bottle of Eau de Cologne; and every now and then the amiable M. Rapp made
      the carriage stop for the comfort of his poor little sick heart, which
      overflowed with bile: in fine, he was obliged to take to bed on arriving
      at Epernay, while the rest of the amiable party tried to drown their
      sorrows in champagne. The second day was more fortunate on the score of
      health and spirits, but provisions were wanting, and great were the
      sufferings of the stomach. The travellers lived on the hope of a good
      supper at Toul; but despair was at its height when, on arriving there,
      they found only a wretched inn, and nothing in it. We saw some odd-looking
      folks there, which indemnified us a little for spinach dressed in
      lamp-oil, and red asparagus fried with curdled milk. Who would not have
      been amused to see the Malmaison gourmands seated at a table so shockingly
      served!
    
The whole party left Malmaison in tears, which led to such terrible headaches that everyone was completely overwhelmed by the thought of the journey. Madame Bonaparte, mere, handled the exhaustion of that memorable day with great courage, but Madame Bonaparte, Consulesse, did not show any at all. The two young ladies in the carriage, Mademoiselle Hortense and Madame Lavallette, were competing for a bottle of Eau de Cologne, and every now and then, the kind M. Rapp would make the carriage stop for the comfort of his poor little sick heart, which was overflowing with bile: in short, he had to go to bed upon arriving at Epernay, while the rest of the friendly group tried to drown their sorrows in champagne. The second day was better in terms of health and spirits, but they were short on food, and the stomachaches were intense. The travelers lived in hope of a good dinner in Toul; but despair peaked when, upon arrival, they found only a miserable inn with nothing in it. We spotted some strange-looking people there, which eased our disappointment a little for the spinach cooked in lamp oil and red asparagus fried with curdled milk. Who wouldn’t have been amused to see the Malmaison foodies seated at such a horribly served table!







      In no record of history is there to be found a day passed in distress so
      dreadful as that on which we arrived at Plombieres. On departing from Toul
      we intended to breakfast at Nancy, for every stomach had been empty for
      two days; but the civil and military authorities came out to meet us, and
      prevented us from executing our plan. We continued our route, wasting
      away, so that you might, see us growing thinner every moment. To complete
      our misfortune, the dormouse, which seemed to have taken a fancy to embark
      on the Moselle for Metz, barely escaped an overturn. But at Plombieres we
      have been well compensated for this unlucky journey, for on our arrival we
      were received with all kinds of rejoicings. The town was illuminated, the
      cannon fired, and the faces of handsome women at all the windows give us
      reason to hope that we shall bear our absence from Malmaison with the less
      regret.
    
In no record of history is there a day filled with distress as dreadful as the one we experienced when we arrived in Plombières. When we left Toul, we planned to have breakfast in Nancy since everyone had been hungry for two days; however, the local civil and military authorities came out to meet us and stopped us from carrying out our plan. We continued our journey, growing weaker by the moment, so you could see us getting thinner. To make matters worse, the dormouse, which seemed eager to join us on the Moselle to Metz, barely avoided capsizing. But upon reaching Plombières, we were well compensated for this unfortunate trip. We were greeted with celebrations of all kinds. The town was lit up, cannons were fired, and the beautiful faces of women at every window give us hope that our absence from Malmaison won’t be as hard to bear.







      With the exception of some anecdotes, which we reserve for chit-chat on
      our return, you have here a correct account of our journey, which we, the
      undersigned, hereby certify.
    
Aside from a few stories that we'll save for casual conversations when we get back, this is an accurate account of our trip, which we, the undersigned, can confirm.







      JOSEPHINE BONAPARTE. BEAUHARNAIS-LAPALLETTE. HORTENSE BEAUHARNAIS. RAPP.
      BONAPARTE, mere.
    
JOSEPHINE BONAPARTE. BEAUHARNAIS-LAPALLETTE. HORTENSE BEAUHARNAIS. RAPP.  
      BONAPARTE, mother.






The company ask pardon for the blots.
     21st Messidor.

The company apologizes for the errors.  
     21st Messidor.







      It is requested that the person who receives this journal will show it to
      all who take an interest in the fair travellers.
    
It is requested that the person who receives this journal share it with everyone interested in the fair travelers.







      This journey to Plombieres was preceded by a scene which I should abstain
      from describing if I had not undertaken to relate the truth respecting the
      family of the First Consul. Two or three days before her departure Madame
      Bonaparte sent for me. I obeyed the summons, and found her in tears. "What
      a man-what a man is that Lucien!" she exclaimed in accents of grief. "If
      you knew, my friend, the shameful proposals he has dared to make to me!
      'You are going to the waters,' said he; 'you must get a child by some
      other person since you cannot have one by him.' Imagine the indignation
      with which I received such advice. 'Well,' he continued, 'if you do not
      wish it, or cannot help it, Bonaparte must get a child by another woman,
      and you must adopt it, for it is necessary to secure an hereditary
      successor. It is for your interest; you must know that.'— 'What,
      sir!' I replied, 'do you imagine the nation will suffer a bastard to
      govern it? Lucien! Lucien! you would ruin your brother! This is dreadful!
      Wretched should I be, were any one to suppose me capable of listening,
      without horror, to your infamous proposal! Your ideas are poisonous; your
      language horrible!'—'Well, Madame,' retorted he, 'all I can say to
      that is, that I am really sorry for you!'"
    
This trip to Plombières was preceded by a scene I should avoid describing if I hadn't committed to telling the truth about the First Consul's family. Two or three days before her departure, Madame Bonaparte called for me. I answered the call and found her in tears. "What a man—what a man Lucien is!" she exclaimed, sounding deeply upset. "If you knew, my friend, the shameful proposals he has dared to make to me! 'You're going to the spa,' he said; 'you need to have a child with someone else since you can’t have one with him.' Can you imagine the anger I felt receiving such advice? 'Well,' he continued, 'if you don’t want that, or can’t manage it, Bonaparte needs to father a child with another woman, and you have to adopt it because it’s necessary to ensure an heir. It’s in your interest; you must understand that.'— 'What, sir!' I replied, 'do you think the nation will accept a bastard as its ruler? Lucien! Lucien! You’d ruin your brother! This is appalling! I would be miserable if anyone thought I could listen, without horror, to your disgraceful suggestion! Your ideas are toxic; your words are terrible!'—'Well, Madame,' he shot back, 'all I can say is that I truly feel sorry for you!'"







      The amiable Josephine was sobbing whilst she described this scene to me,
      and I was not insensible to the indignation which she felt. The truth is,
      that at that period Lucien, though constantly affecting to despise power
      for himself, was incessantly labouring to concentrate it in the hands of
      his brother; and he considered three things necessary to the success of
      his views, namely, hereditary succession, divorce, and the Imperial
      Government.
    
The friendly Josephine was crying as she told me about this scene, and I couldn't help but feel the anger she was experiencing. The truth is, at that time, Lucien, despite constantly pretending to look down on power for himself, was always working to gather it for his brother. He believed three things were essential for the success of his plans: hereditary succession, divorce, and the Imperial Government.







      Lucien had a delightful house near Neuilly. Some days before the
      deplorable scene which I have related he invited Bonaparte and all the
      inmates at Malmaison to witness a theatrical representation. 'Alzire' was
      the piece performed. Elise played Alzire, and Lucien, Zamore. The warmth
      of their declarations, the energetic expression of their gestures, the too
      faithful nudity of costume, disgusted most of the spectators, and
      Bonaparte more than any other. When the play was over he was quite
      indignant. "It is a scandal," he said to me in an angry tone; "I ought not
      to suffer such indecencies—I will give Lucien to understand that I
      will have no more of it." When his brother had resumed his own dress, and
      came into the salon, he addressed him publicly, and gave him to understand
      that he must for the future desist from such representations. When we
      returned to Malmaison; he again spoke of what had passed with
      dissatisfaction. "What!" said he, "when I am endeavouring to restore
      purity of manners, my brother and sister must needs exhibit themselves
      upon the boards almost in a state of nudity! It is an insult!"
    
Lucien had a lovely house near Neuilly. A few days before the unfortunate scene that I described, he invited Bonaparte and everyone at Malmaison to see a play. The piece performed was 'Alzire.' Elise played Alzire, and Lucien played Zamore. The intensity of their declarations, the passionate gestures, and the overly revealing costumes disgusted most of the audience, especially Bonaparte. After the play, he was quite upset. "This is unacceptable," he said to me angrily; "I shouldn’t have to tolerate such indecency—I’ll make sure Lucien knows this can’t happen again." When his brother changed back into his regular clothes and came into the living room, Bonaparte publicly told him that he needed to stop putting on such shows. As we returned to Malmaison, he expressed his dissatisfaction again. "What?" he said. "While I’m trying to promote decency, my brother and sister have to perform almost half-naked? It’s an insult!"







      Lucien had a strong predilection for theatrical exhibitions, to which he
      attached great importance. The fact is, he declaimed in a superior style,
      and might have competed with the best professional actors. It was said
      that the turban of Orosmane, the costume of America, the Roman toga, or
      the robe of the high priest of Jerusalem, all became him equally well; and
      I believe that this was the exact truth. Theatrical representations were
      not confined to Neuilly. We had our theatre and our company of actors at
      Malmaison; but there everything was conducted with the greatest decorum;
      and now that I have got behind the scenes, I will not quit them until I
      have let the reader into the secrets of our drama.
    
Lucien really loved theatrical performances, which he considered very important. The truth is, he performed with a level of skill that could have put him up against the best professional actors. People said he looked great in anything, whether it was Orosmane's turban, America's costume, a Roman toga, or the robe of the high priest of Jerusalem, and I believe that was absolutely true. Theatrical performances weren’t just in Neuilly; we had our own theater and troupe of actors at Malmaison. However, everything there was handled with utmost decorum. Now that I've gotten behind the scenes, I'm not going to leave until I reveal the secrets of our drama to the reader.







      By the direction of the First Consul a very pretty little theatre was
      built at Malmaison. Our usual actors were Eugène BEAUHARNAIS, Hortense,
      Madame Murat, Lauriston, M. Didelot, one of the prefects of the Palace,
      some other individuals belonging to the First Consul's household, and
      myself. Freed from the cares of government, which we confined as much as
      possible to the Tuileries, we were a very happy colony at Malmaison; and,
      besides, we were young, and what is there to which youth does not add
      charms? The pieces which the First Consul most liked to see us perform
      were, 'Le Barbier de Seville' and 'Defiance et Malice'. In Le Barbier
      Lauriston played the part of Count Almaviva; Hortense, Rosins; Eugène,
      Basil; Didelot, Figaro; I, Bartholo; and Isabey, l'Aveille. Our other
      stock pieces were, Projets de Mariage, La Gageltre, the Dapit Anloureux,
      in which I played the part of the valet; and L'Impromptu de Campagne, in
      which I enacted the Baron, having for my Baroness the young and handsome
      Caroline Murat.
    
By the order of the First Consul, a charming little theater was built at Malmaison. Our usual cast included Eugène BEAUHARNAIS, Hortense, Madame Murat, Lauriston, M. Didelot, one of the Palace prefects, a few others from the First Consul's household, and me. Free from the burdens of government, which we kept mostly confined to the Tuileries, we were a very happy group at Malmaison; plus, we were young, and what isn't made more delightful by youth? The plays the First Consul enjoyed seeing us perform the most were 'Le Barbier de Seville' and 'Defiance et Malice'. In Le Barbier, Lauriston played Count Almaviva; Hortense took on the role of Rosina; Eugène was Basil; Didelot was Figaro; I played Bartholo; and Isabey was l’Aveille. Our other regular pieces included Projets de Mariage, La Gageltre, and Le Dapit Anloureux, where I played the valet; and L'Impromptu de Campagne, in which I portrayed the Baron, with the lovely young Caroline Murat as my Baroness.







      Hortense's acting was perfection, Caroline was middling, Eugène played
      very well, Lauriston was rather heavy, Didelot passable, and I may venture
      to assert, without vanity, that I was not quite the worst of the company.
      If we were not good actors it was not for want of good instruction and
      good advice. Talma and Michot came to direct us, and made us rehearse
      before them, sometimes altogether and sometimes separately. How many
      lessons have I received from Michot whilst walking in the beautiful park
      of Malmaison! And may I be excused for saying, that I now experience
      pleasure in looking back upon these trifles, which are matters of
      importance when one is young, and which contrasted so singularly with the
      great theatre on which we did not represent fictitious characters? We had,
      to adopt theatrical language, a good supply of property. Bonaparte
      presented each of us with a collection of dramas very well bound; and, as
      the patron of the company, he provided us with rich and elegant dresses.
    
Hortense's acting was flawless, Caroline was average, Eugène did really well, Lauriston was a bit dull, Didelot was decent, and I can say, without bragging, that I wasn't the worst among us. If we weren't great actors, it wasn't for lack of good training and advice. Talma and Michot came to direct us, making us practice in front of them, sometimes together and sometimes individually. I've received countless lessons from Michot while walking in the beautiful park of Malmaison! And I hope it's acceptable to say that I enjoy looking back on these small moments, which are significant when you're young and which contrasted so sharply with the grand stage where we didn’t perform as fictional characters. We had, to use theatrical terms, plenty of props. Bonaparte gifted each of us a beautifully bound collection of plays; and as the supporter of the group, he provided us with luxurious and stylish costumes.







      —[While Bourrienne, belonging to the Malmaison company, considered
      that the acting at Neuilly was indecent, Lucien, who refused to act at
      Malmaison, naturally thought the Malmaison troupe was dull. "Hortense and
      Caroline filled the principal parts. They were very commonplace. In this
      they followed the unfortunate Marie Antoinette and her companions. Louis
      XVI., not naturally polite, when seeing them act, had said that it was
      royally badly acted" (see Madame Campan's Life of Marie Antoinette, tome
      i. p. 299). "The First Consul said of his troupe that it was sovereignly
      badly acted . . . Murat, Lannes, and even Caroline ranted. Elisa, who,
      having been educated at Saint Cyr, spoke purely and without accent,
      refused to act. Janot acted well the drunken parts, and even the others he
      undertook. The rest were decidedly bad. Worse than bad—ridiculous"
      (Iung's Lucien's, tome ii. p. 256). Rival actors are not fair critics. Let
      us hear Madame Junot (tome ii. p. 103). "The cleverest of our company was
      M. de Bourrienne. He played the more dignified characters in real
      perfection, and his talent was the more pleasing as it was not the result
      of study, but of a perfect comprehension of his part." And she goes on to
      say that even the best professional actors might have learnt from him in
      some parts. The audience was not a pleasant one to face. It was the First
      Consul's habit to invite forty persons to dinner, and a hundred and fifty
      for the evening, and consequently to hear, criticise, and banter us
      without mercy" (Memoirs of Duchesse d'Abrantes, tome ii. p. 108).]—
    
—[While Bourrienne, part of the Malmaison group, thought the performances at Neuilly were inappropriate, Lucien, who refused to perform at Malmaison, naturally found the Malmaison troupe uninteresting. "Hortense and Caroline played the leading roles. They were quite ordinary. In this, they followed the unfortunate Marie Antoinette and her entourage. Louis XVI., who was not naturally polite, had remarked that their performance was royally awful" (see Madame Campan's Life of Marie Antoinette, vol. i, p. 299). "The First Consul commented on his troupe that it was sovereignly poorly acted... Murat, Lannes, and even Caroline overacted. Elisa, who was educated at Saint Cyr, spoke clearly and without an accent, and refused to act. Janot performed the drunken roles well, and even managed the others he took on. The rest were clearly bad. Worse than bad—ridiculous" (Iung's Lucien's, vol. ii, p. 256). Rival actors are not fair critics. Let’s hear from Madame Junot (vol. ii, p. 103). "The most talented in our company was M. de Bourrienne. He portrayed the more dignified characters with real perfection, and his talent was all the more impressive because it came not from study but from a complete understanding of his role." She goes on to say that even the best professional actors could have learned from him in some scenes. The audience was not an easy one to face. It was the First Consul's routine to invite forty people to dinner and a hundred and fifty for the evening, which meant we had to endure their criticism and jokes without mercy" (Memoirs of Duchesse d'Abrantes, vol. ii, p. 108).]—







      Bonaparte took great pleasure in our performances. He liked to see plays
      acted by persons with whom he was familiar. Sometimes he complimented us
      on our exertions. Although I was as much amused with the thing as others,
      I was more than once obliged to remind him that my occupations left me but
      little time to learn my parts. Then he would assume his coaxing manner and
      say, "Come, do not vex me! You have such a memory! You know that it amuses
      me. You see that these performances render Malmaison gay and animated;
      Josephine takes much pleasure in them. Rise earlier in the morning.—In
      fact, I sleep too much; is not that the cafe—Come, Bourrienne, do
      oblige me. You make me laugh so heartily! Do not deprive me of this
      pleasure. I have not over much amusement, as you well know."—"All,
      truly! I would not deprive you of any pleasure. I am delighted to be able
      to contribute to your amusement." After a conversation of this sort I
      could not do less than set about studying my part.
    
Bonaparte really enjoyed our performances. He liked watching plays acted by people he knew. Sometimes he praised us for our efforts. While I found the whole thing just as entertaining as everyone else, I had to remind him more than once that my responsibilities left me little time to learn my lines. Then he would adopt a coaxing tone and say, "Come on, don’t annoy me! You have such a good memory! You know this entertains me. These performances make Malmaison lively and cheerful; Josephine enjoys them a lot. Get up earlier in the morning. In fact, I sleep too much; isn’t that the café—Come on, Bourrienne, do me a favor. You make me laugh so much! Don’t take this pleasure away from me. I don’t have much amusement, as you know." —"Absolutely! I wouldn’t take away any of your fun. I’m happy to help make you laugh." After a chat like that, I felt I had to start studying my part.







      At this period, during summer, I had half the Sunday to myself. I was,
      however, obliged to devote a portion of this precious leisure to pleasing
      Bonaparte by studying a new part as a surprise for him. Occasionally,
      however, I passed the time at Ruel. I recollect that one day, when I had
      hurried there from Malmaison, I lost a beautiful watch made by Breguet. It
      was four o'clock in the afternoon, and the road was that day thronged with
      people. I made my loss publicly known by means of the crier of Ruel. An
      hour after, as I was sitting down to table, a young lad belonging to the
      village brought me my watch. He had found it on the high road in a wheel
      rut. I was pleased with the probity of this young man, and rewarded both
      him and his father, who accompanied him. I reiterated the circumstance the
      same evening to the First Consul, who was so struck with this instance of
      honesty that he directed me to procure information respecting the young
      man and his family. I learned that they were honest peasants. Bonaparte
      gave employment to three brothers of this family; and, what was most
      difficult to persuade him to, he exempted the young man who brought me the
      watch from the conscription.
    
During this summer, I had half of Sunday to myself. However, I had to spend some of this precious free time pleasing Bonaparte by rehearsing a new role as a surprise for him. Occasionally, I spent time at Ruel. I remember one day when I rushed there from Malmaison and lost a beautiful watch made by Breguet. It was four o'clock in the afternoon, and the road was crowded that day. I announced my loss publicly through the town crier of Ruel. An hour later, as I was sitting down to eat, a young boy from the village brought me my watch. He had found it in a wheel rut on the road. I was impressed by this young man's honesty and rewarded both him and his father, who came with him. That same evening, I shared the story with the First Consul, who was so taken by this act of integrity that he asked me to find out more about the young man and his family. I discovered that they were honest farmers. Bonaparte hired three brothers from this family, and, surprisingly, he agreed to exempt the young man who returned my watch from the draft.







      When a fact of this nature reached Bonaparte's ear it was seldom that he
      did not give the principal actor in it some proof of his satisfaction. Two
      qualities predominated in his character—kindness and impatience.
      Impatience, when he was under its influence, got the better of him; it was
      then impossible for him to control himself. I had a remarkable proof of it
      about this very period.
    
When a fact like this reached Bonaparte's ears, he usually showed the main person involved some sign of his approval. Two traits stood out in his character—kindness and impatience. When impatience took over, he couldn't control himself. I had a striking example of this around that same time.







      Canova having arrived in Paris came to St. Cloud to model the figure of
      the First Consul, of whom he was about to make a colossal statue. This
      great artist came often, in the hope of getting his model to stand in the
      proper attitude; but Bonaparte was so tired, disgusted, and fretted by the
      process, that he very seldom put himself in the required attitude, and
      then only for a short time. Bonaparte notwithstanding had the highest
      regard for Canova. Whenever he was announced the First Consul sent me to
      keep him company until he was at leisure to give him a sitting; but he
      would shrug up his shoulders and say, "More modeling! Good Heavens, how
      vexatious!" Canova expressed great displeasure at not being able to study
      his model as he wished to do, and the little anxiety of Bonaparte on the
      subject damped the ardour of his imagination. Everybody agrees in saying
      that he has not succeeded in the work, and I have explained the reason.
      The Duke of Wellington afterwards possessed this colossal statue, which
      was about twice his own height.
    
Canova arrived in Paris and went to St. Cloud to create a model of the First Consul for a giant statue he was about to make. This great artist visited often, hoping to get Bonaparte to stand in the right position, but Bonaparte was so tired, frustrated, and annoyed by the process that he rarely held the required pose, and even then only for a brief time. Despite this, Bonaparte held Canova in high regard. Whenever Canova was announced, the First Consul would send me to keep him company until he was ready to pose. However, Bonaparte would shrug and say, "More modeling! Good heavens, how annoying!" Canova was quite unhappy about not being able to study his model as he wanted, and Bonaparte's lack of interest dampened his creative spirit. Everyone agrees that he didn’t succeed with the statue, and I’ve explained why. The Duke of Wellington later owned this colossal statue, which was about twice his height.








 


 




















      CHAPTER XI.
    



      1802.
    
1802.


   Bonaparte's principle as to the change of Ministers—Fouché—His
   influence with the First Consul—Fouché's dismissal—The departments
   of Police and Justice united under Regnier—Madame Bonaparte's
   regret for the dismissal of Fouché—Family scenes—Madame Louis
   Bonaparte's pregnancy—False and infamous reports to Josephine—
   Legitimacy and a bastard—Raederer reproached by Josephine—Her
   visit to Ruel—Long conversation with her—Assertion at St. Helena
   respecting a great political fraud.

   Bonaparte's rule about changing ministers—Fouché—His influence with the First Consul—Fouché's firing—The Police and Justice departments combined under Regnier—Madame Bonaparte's sadness over Fouché's dismissal—Family moments—Madame Louis Bonaparte's pregnancy—False and scandalous rumors sent to Josephine—Legitimacy and an illegitimate child—Josephine confronting Raederer—Her trip to Ruel—Long discussion with her—Claim made at St. Helena about a major political fraud.







      It is a principle particularly applicable to absolute governments that a
      prince should change his ministers as seldom as possible, and never except
      upon serious grounds. Bonaparte acted on this principle when First Consul,
      and also when he became Emperor. He often allowed unjust causes to
      influence him, but he never dismissed a Minister without cause; indeed, he
      more than once, without any reason, retained Ministers longer than he
      ought to have done in the situations in which he had placed them.
      Bonaparte's tenacity in this respect, in some instances, produced very
      opposite results. For instance, it afforded M. Gaudin' time to establish a
      degree of order in the administration of Finance which before his time had
      never existed; and on the other hand, it enabled M. Decres to reduce the
      Ministry of Marine to an unparalleled state of confusion.
    
It's a principle that's especially relevant to absolute governments that a ruler should change their ministers as infrequently as possible, and only for serious reasons. Bonaparte followed this principle when he was First Consul and later when he became Emperor. He sometimes let unjust reasons sway him, but he never fired a minister without justification; in fact, he often kept ministers in positions longer than he should have, even without good reason. Bonaparte's stubbornness in this area sometimes led to very different outcomes. For example, it gave M. Gaudin the opportunity to bring a level of order to the Finance administration that had never been seen before, while on the flip side, it allowed M. Decres to turn the Ministry of Marine into a state of unprecedented chaos.







      Bonaparte saw nothing in men but helps and obstacles. On the 18th Brumaire
      Fouché was a help. The First Consul feared that he would become an
      obstacle; it was necessary, therefore, to think of dismissing him.
      Bonaparte's most sincere friends had from the beginning been opposed to
      Fouché's having any share in the Government. But their disinterested
      advice produced no other result than their own disgrace, so influential a
      person had Fouché become. How could it be otherwise? Fouché was identified
      with the Republic by the death of the King, for which he had voted; with
      the Reign of Terror by his sanguinary missions to Lyons and Nevers; with
      the Consulate by his real though perhaps exaggerated services; with
      Bonaparte by the charm with which he might be said to have fascinated him;
      with Josephine by the enmity of the First Consul's brothers. Who would
      believe it? Fouché ranked the enemies of the Revolution amongst his
      warmest partisans. They overwhelmed him with eulogy, to the disparagement
      even of the Head of the State, because the cunning Minister, practising an
      interested indulgence, set himself up as the protector of individuals
      belonging to classes which, when he was proconsul, he had attacked in the
      mass. Director of public opinion, and having in his hands the means at his
      pleasure of inspiring fear or of entangling by inducements, it was all in
      his favour that he had already directed this opinion. The machinery he set
      in motion was so calculated that the police was rather the police of
      Fouché than that of the Minister of the General Police. Throughout Paris,
      and indeed throughout all France, Fouché obtained credit for extraordinary
      ability; and the popular opinion was correct in this respect, namely, that
      no man ever displayed such ability in making it be supposed that he really
      possessed talent. Fouché's secret in this particular is the whole secret
      of the greater part of those persons who are called statesmen.
    
Bonaparte saw people as either help or obstacles. On the 18th Brumaire, Fouché was helpful. The First Consul worried he would turn into an obstacle, so he considered dismissing him. Bonaparte's truest friends had always been against Fouché having any role in the government. But their selfless advice led only to their own downfall, as Fouché had become an incredibly influential figure. How could it be any different? Fouché was linked to the Republic because he had voted for the King’s death; to the Reign of Terror due to his brutal missions in Lyons and Nevers; to the Consulate because of his genuine, though possibly exaggerated, contributions; to Bonaparte through the charm he seemed to have exerted on him; and to Josephine because of the hostility from the First Consul's brothers. Who would believe it? Fouché counted the enemies of the Revolution among his staunchest supporters. They praised him, even at the expense of the Head of State, because the clever Minister, practicing a self-serving tolerance, presented himself as the defender of groups he had previously attacked during his time as proconsul. As the director of public opinion, he had the means to instill fear or offer incentives, which he used to shape this opinion in his favor. The system he set in motion was designed so that the police were more his than those of the Minister of the General Police. Across Paris and indeed throughout all of France, Fouché was credited with exceptional skill, and public sentiment was right in believing that no one ever displayed such talent in making it seem like he genuinely had abilities. Fouché's secret in this regard is the same secret that applies to most people who are called statesmen.







      Be this as it may, the First Consul did not behold with pleasure the
      factitious influence of which Fouché had possessed himself. For some time
      past, to the repugnance which at bottom he had felt towards Fouché, were
      added other causes of discontent. In consequence of having been deceived
      by secret reports and correspondence Bonaparte began to shrug up his
      shoulders with an expression of regret when he received them, and said,
      "Would you believe, Bourrienne, that I have been imposed on by these
      things? All such denunciations are useless—scandalous. All the
      reports from prefects and the police, all the intercepted letters, are a
      tissue of absurdities and lies. I desire to have no more of them." He said
      so, but he still received them. However, Fouché's dismissal was resolved
      upon. But though Bonaparte wished to get rid of him, still, under the
      influence of the charm, he dared not proceed against him without the
      greatest caution. He first resolved upon the suppression of the office of
      Minister of Police in order to disguise the motive for the removal of the
      Minister. The First Consul told Fouché that this suppression, which he
      spoke of as being yet remote, was calculated more than anything else to
      give strength to the Government, since it would afford a proof of the
      security and internal tranquillity of France. Overpowered by the arguments
      with which Bonaparte supported his proposition, Fouché could urge no good
      reasons in opposition to it, but contented himself with recommending that
      the execution of the design, which was good in intention, should, however,
      be postponed for two years. Bonaparte appeared to listen favourably to
      Fouché's recommendation, who, as avaricious for money as Bonaparte of
      glory, consoled himself by thinking that for these two years the
      administration of the gaming tables would still be for him a Pactolus
      flowing with gold. For Fouché, already the possessor of an immense
      fortune, always dreamed of increasing it, though he himself did not know
      how to enjoy it. With him the ambition of enlarging the bounds of his
      estate of Pont-Carre was not less felt than with the First Consul the
      ambition of extending the frontier of France.
    
That said, the First Consul was not pleased with the artificial influence that Fouché had gained. For some time, in addition to his underlying dislike for Fouché, he had other reasons to be dissatisfied. After being misled by secret reports and correspondence, Bonaparte began to shrug his shoulders with a look of regret when he received them, saying, "Would you believe, Bourrienne, that I've been taken in by these things? All such accusations are pointless—scandalous. All the reports from prefects and the police, all the intercepted letters, are a web of nonsense and lies. I don't want to see them anymore." He said that, but he still accepted them. Nonetheless, the decision to dismiss Fouché was made. However, even though Bonaparte wanted to get rid of him, he still felt he needed to be very careful due to Fouché's charm. He first decided to eliminate the position of Minister of Police to mask the reason for Fouché's removal. The First Consul told Fouché that this elimination, which he described as still a long way off, would more than anything strengthen the Government, as it would demonstrate the security and internal peace of France. Overwhelmed by Bonaparte's reasoning, Fouché couldn't come up with strong objections, but settled on suggesting that the execution of this plan, which was well-intentioned, should be postponed for two years. Bonaparte seemed to consider Fouché's suggestion favorably, who, as greedy for money as Bonaparte was for glory, comforted himself with the thought that for these two years, managing the gaming tables would still provide him a wealth of gold. For Fouché, already possessing a vast fortune, always dreamed of increasing it, even though he didn’t know how to enjoy it. His ambition to expand his estate at Pont-Carre was as strong as Bonaparte's ambition to extend France's borders.







      Not only did the First Consul not like Fouché, but it is perfectly true
      that at this time the police wearied and annoyed him. Several times he
      told me he looked on it as dangerous, especially for the possessor of
      power. In a Government without the liberty of the press he was quite
      right. The very services which the police had rendered to the First Consul
      were of a nature to alarm him, for whoever had conspired against the
      Directory in favour of the Consulate might also conspire against the
      Consulate in favour of any other Government. It is needless to say that I
      only allude to the political police, and not to the municipal police,
      which is indispensable for large towns, and which has the honourable
      mission of watching over the health and safety of the citizens.
    
Not only did the First Consul dislike Fouché, but it’s also true that at this time the police irritated and frustrated him. Several times he told me he viewed it as dangerous, especially for someone in power. In a government without freedom of the press, he was absolutely right. The very services the police had provided to the First Consul were concerning to him, because anyone who had plotted against the Directory in support of the Consulate could also plot against the Consulate in support of another government. It goes without saying that I’m only referring to the political police, not the municipal police, which is essential for large cities and has the important job of ensuring the health and safety of the citizens.







      Fouché, as has been stated, had been Minister of Police since the 18th
      Brumaire. Everybody who was acquainted with, the First Consul's character
      was unable to explain the ascendency which he had suffered Fouché to
      acquire over him, and of which Bonaparte himself was really impatient. He
      saw in Fouché a centre around which all the interests of the Revolution
      concentrated themselves, and at this he felt indignant; but, subject to a
      species of magnetism, he could not break the charm which enthralled him.
      When he spoke of Fouché in his absence his language was warm, bitter, and
      hostile. When Fouché was present, Bonaparte's tone was softened, unless
      some public scene was to be acted like that which occurred after the
      attempt of the 3d Nivôse.
    
Fouché, as mentioned, had been the Minister of Police since the 18th Brumaire. Everyone who knew the First Consul's personality couldn't understand how Fouché had gained such influence over him, an influence that Bonaparte himself found frustrating. He saw Fouché as a focal point around which all the Revolution's interests gathered, and this made him angry; but, caught in a kind of magnetic pull, he couldn't break the spell that captivated him. When he talked about Fouché in his absence, his words were passionate, resentful, and antagonistic. When Fouché was around, Bonaparte's tone softened, unless a public confrontation, like the one that happened after the attempt on the 3rd Nivôse, was going to take place.







      The suppression of the Ministry of Police being determined on, Bonaparte
      did not choose to delay the execution of his design, as he had pretended
      to think necessary. On the evening of the 12th of September we went to
      Mortfontaine. We passed the next day, which was Monday, at that place, and
      it was there, far removed from Fouché, and urged by the combined
      persuasions of Joseph and Lucien, that the First Consul signed the decree
      of suppression. The next morning we returned to Paris. Fouché came to
      Malmaison, where we were, in the regular execution of his duties. The
      First Consul transacted business with him as usual without daring to tell
      him of his dismissal, and afterwards sent Cambacérès to inform him of it.
      After this act, respecting which he had hesitated so long, Bonaparte still
      endeavoured to modify his rigour. Having appointed Fouché a Senator, he
      said in the letter which he wrote to the Senate to notify the appointment:
    
The decision to shut down the Ministry of Police was made, and Bonaparte didn't want to postpone his plan, even though he had pretended that it was necessary. On the evening of September 12th, we went to Mortfontaine. We spent the following day, which was Monday, there, and it was in that remote place, away from Fouché, and after being encouraged by Joseph and Lucien, that the First Consul signed the decree for the shutdown. The next morning we returned to Paris. Fouché came to Malmaison, where we were, to carry out his usual duties. The First Consul conducted business with him as normal without daring to mention his dismissal, and later sent Cambacérès to inform him. After this decision, which he had thought about for so long, Bonaparte still tried to soften his approach. Having appointed Fouché as a Senator, he wrote in the letter to the Senate to announce the appointment:






   "Fouché, as Minister of Police, in times of difficulty, has by his
   talent, his activity, and his attachment to the Government done all
   that circumstances required of him. Placed in the bosom of the
   Senate, if events should again call for a Minister of Police the
   Government cannot find one more worthy of its confidence."

   "Fouché, as the Minister of Police, has done everything that was needed in tough times through his skill, dedication, and loyalty to the Government. Now, being a part of the Senate, if the situation arises where a Minister of Police is needed again, the Government won't find anyone more deserving of its trust."







      From this moment the departments of Justice and Police united were
      confided to the hands of Regnier.' Bonaparte's aversion for Fouché
      strangely blinded him with respect to the capabilities of his successor.
      Besides, how could the administration of justice, which rests on fixed,
      rigid, and unchangeable bases, proceed hand in hand with another
      administration placed on the quicksand of instantaneous decisions, and
      surrounded by stratagems and deceptions? Justice should never have
      anything to do with secret police, unless it be to condemn it.
    
From this point on, the Justice and Police departments were handed over to Regnier. Bonaparte's dislike for Fouché strangely blinded him to the abilities of his successor. Moreover, how could the administration of justice, which relies on fixed, rigid, and unchanging principles, work alongside another administration built on the shifting sands of quick decisions and surrounded by schemes and deceit? Justice should never be involved with secret police, unless it's to condemn it.






 —[M. Abrial, Minister of Justice, was called to the Senate at the
   same time as Fouché. Understanding that the assimilation of the two
   men was more a disgrace to Abrial than the mere loss of the
   Ministry, the First Consul said to M. Abrial: "In uniting the
   Ministry of Police to that of Justice I could not retain you in the
   Ministry, you are too upright a man to manage the police." Not a
   flattering speech for Regnier.—Bourrienne.]— 
 —[M. Abrial, the Minister of Justice, was summoned to the Senate at the same time as Fouché. Recognizing that combining the roles of the two men was more of a shame for Abrial than just losing the Ministry, the First Consul said to M. Abrial: "By merging the Ministry of Police with the Ministry of Justice, I couldn't keep you on; you're too principled to handle the police." Not exactly a compliment for Regnier.—Bourrienne.]—







      What could be expected from Regnier, charged as he was with incompatible
      functions? What, under such circumstances, could have been expected even
      from a man gifted with great talents? Such was the exact history of
      Fouché's disgrace. No person was more afflicted at it than Madame
      Bonaparte, who only learned the news when it was announced to the public.
      Josephine, on all occasions, defended Fouché against her husband's
      sallies. She believed that he was the only one of his Ministers who told
      him the truth. She had such a high opinion of the way in which Fouché
      managed the police that the first time I was alone with her after our
      return from Mortfontaine she said to me, "My dear Bourrienne; speak openly
      to me; will Napoleon know all about the plots from the police of Moncey,
      Duroc, Junot, and of Davoust? You know better than I do that these are
      only wretched spies. Has not Savary also eventually got his police? How
      all this alarms me. They take away all my supports, and surround me only
      with enemies."—"To justify your regrets we should be sure that
      Fouché has never been in agreement with Lucien in favour of the divorce."—"Oh,
      I do not believe that. Bonaparte does not like him, and he would have been
      certain to tell me of it when I spoke favourably to him of Fouché. You
      will see that his brothers will end by bringing him into their plan."
    
What could be expected from Regnier, given that he had conflicting responsibilities? What could anyone have anticipated under such conditions, even from someone with significant talents? That’s the exact story of Fouché’s downfall. No one was more upset about it than Madame Bonaparte, who only found out the news when it was made public. Josephine consistently defended Fouché against her husband’s attacks. She believed he was the only member of his cabinet who told him the truth. She thought so highly of how Fouché ran the police that the first time I was alone with her after we returned from Mortfontaine, she said to me, "My dear Bourrienne, be honest with me; will Napoleon find out everything about the plots from the police of Moncey, Duroc, Junot, and Davoust? You know better than I do that they are just terrible spies. Isn’t Savary also running his own police force now? This all worries me. They take away all my support and only surround me with enemies."—"To justify your concerns, we need to be sure that Fouché has never collaborated with Lucien regarding the divorce."—"Oh, I don't believe that. Bonaparte doesn’t like him, and he would have definitely told me if I had said anything good about Fouché. You’ll see that his brothers will eventually get him involved in their plans."







      I have already spoken of Josephine's troubles, and of the bad conduct of
      Joseph, but more particularly of Lucien, towards her; I will therefore
      describe here, as connected with the disgrace of Fouché, whom Madame
      Bonaparte regretted as a support, some scenes which occurred about this
      period at Malmaison. Having been the confidant of both parties, and an
      involuntary actor in those scenes, now that twenty-seven years have passed
      since they occurred what motive can induce me to disguise the truth in any
      respect?
    
I've already talked about Josephine's issues and Joseph's bad behavior, especially Lucien's towards her. So, I’ll describe some events that happened around the time of Fouché's disgrace, which Madame Bonaparte missed as a support. Since I was the confidant for both sides and an unintended participant in those events, what reason do I have to hide the truth now that twenty-seven years have gone by?







      Madame Louis Bonaparte was enceinte. Josephine, although she tenderly
      loved her children, did not seem to behold the approaching event which the
      situation of her daughter indicated with the interest natural to the heart
      of a mother. She had long been aware of the calumnious reports circulated
      respecting the supposed connection between Hortense and the First Consul,
      and that base accusation cost her many tears. Poor Josephine paid dearly
      for the splendour of her station! As I knew how devoid of foundation these
      atrocious reports were, I endeavoured to console her by telling her what
      was true, that I was exerting all my efforts to demonstrate their infamy
      and falsehood. Bonaparte, however, dazzled by the affection which was
      manifested towards him from all quarters, aggravated the sorrow of his
      wife by a silly vanity. He endeavoured to persuade her that these reports
      had their origin only in the wish of the public that he should have a
      child, so that these seeming consolations offered by self-love to
      Josephine's grief gave force to existing conjugal alarms, and the fear of
      divorce returned with all its horrors. Under the foolish illusion of his
      vanity Bonaparte imagined that France was desirous of being governed even
      by a bastard if supposed to be a child of his,—a singular mode truly
      of founding a new legitimacy!
    
Madame Louis Bonaparte was pregnant. Josephine, even though she deeply loved her children, didn't seem to recognize the upcoming event indicated by her daughter's condition with the usual concern of a mother. She had long been aware of the slanderous rumors about the supposed relationship between Hortense and the First Consul, and that vicious accusation caused her many tears. Poor Josephine paid a heavy price for the splendor of her position! Knowing how unfounded these terrible rumors were, I tried to comfort her by assuring her that I was doing everything I could to prove their ugliness and falsehood. However, Bonaparte, blinded by the affection shown towards him from all sides, added to his wife's sorrow with his silly vanity. He tried to convince her that these rumors only stemmed from the public's desire for him to have a child, so these apparent comforters provided by his self-love only heightened Josephine's anxieties and brought back the terrifying fear of divorce. In his foolish illusion of vanity, Bonaparte believed that France would accept being ruled by a bastard, if it was thought to be his child—a truly strange way to establish a new legitimacy!







      Josephine, whose susceptibility appears to me even now excusable, well
      knew my sentiments on the subject of Bonaparte's founding a dynasty, and
      she had not forgotten my conduct when two years before the question had
      been agitated on the occasion of Louis XVIII.'s letters to the First
      Consul. I remember that one day, after the publication of the parallel of
      Caesar, Cromwell, and Bonaparte, Josephine having entered our cabinet
      without being announced, which she sometimes did when from the good humour
      exhibited at breakfast she reckoned upon its continuance, approached
      Bonaparte softly, seated herself on his knee, passed her hand gently
      through his hair and over his face, and thinking the moment favourable,
      said to him in a burst of tenderness, "I entreat of you, Bonaparte, do not
      make yourself a King! It is that wretch Lucien who urges you to it. Do not
      listen to him!" Bonaparte replied, without anger, and even smiling as he
      pronounced the last words, "You are mad, my poor Josephine. It is your old
      dowagers of the Faubourg St. Germain, your Rochefoucaulds, who tell you
      all these fables!... Come now, you interrupt me—leave me alone."
    
Josephine, whose sensitivity I still think is understandable, was well aware of my views on Bonaparte starting a dynasty, and she hadn’t forgotten how I acted two years earlier when the topic came up due to Louis XVIII’s letters to the First Consul. I remember one day, after the comparison of Caesar, Cromwell, and Bonaparte was published, Josephine walked into our office unannounced, which she occasionally did when she sensed that the good mood from breakfast would carry on. She gently approached Bonaparte, sat on his lap, ran her fingers softly through his hair and across his face, and thinking it was a good moment, said to him with affection, “Please, Bonaparte, don’t make yourself a King! It’s that wretched Lucien who’s pushing you to do it. Don’t listen to him!” Bonaparte replied calmly, even smiling as he said the last words, “You’re out of your mind, my poor Josephine. It’s your old ladies from Faubourg St. Germain, your Rochefoucaulds, who tell you all these stories!... Come on, you’re interrupting me—leave me alone.”







      What Bonaparte said that day good-naturedly to his wife I have often heard
      him declare seriously. I have been present at five or six altercations on
      the subject. That there existed, too, an enmity connected with this
      question between the family of BEAUHARNAIS and the family of Bonaparte
      cannot be denied.
    
What Bonaparte said that day in a friendly way to his wife I have often heard him say seriously. I have been there for five or six arguments about it. It's also undeniable that there was bad blood between the Beauharnais family and the Bonaparte family regarding this issue.







      Fouché, as I have stated, was in the interest of Josephine, and Lucien was
      the most bitter of her enemies. One day Raederer inveighed with so much
      violence against Fouché in the presence of Madame Bonaparte that she
      replied with extreme warmth, "The real enemies of Bonaparte are those who
      feed him with notions of hereditary descent, of a dynasty, of divorce, and
      of marriage!" Josephine could not check this exclamation, as she knew that
      Roederer encouraged those ideas, which he spread abroad by Lucien's
      direction. I recollect one day when she had been to see us at our little
      house at Ruel: as I walked with her along the high road to her carriage,
      which she had sent forward, I acknowledged too unreservedly my fears on
      account of the ambition of Bonaparte, and of the perfidious advice of his
      brothers. "Madame," said I, "if we cannot succeed in dissuading the
      General from making himself a King, I dread the future for his sake. If
      ever he re-establishes royalty he will in all probability labour for the
      Bourbons, and enable them one day to re-ascend the throne which he shall
      erect. No one, doubtless, without passing for a fool, can pretend to say
      with certainty what series of chances and events such a proceeding will
      produce; but common sense alone is sufficient to convince any one that
      unfavourable chances must long be dreaded. The ancient system being
      re-established, the occupation of the throne will then be only a family
      question, and not a question of government between liberty and despotic
      power. Why should not France, if it ceases to be free, prefer the race of
      her ancient kings? You surely know it. You had not been married two years
      when, on returning from Italy, your husband told me that he aspired to
      royalty. Now he is Consul for life. Would he but resolve to stop there! He
      already possesses everything but an empty title. No sovereign in Europe
      has so much power as he has. I am sorry for it, Madame, but I really
      believe that, in spite of yourself, you will be made Queen or Empress."
    
Fouché, as I mentioned, was allied with Josephine, while Lucien was one of her fiercest opponents. One day, Raederer spoke so angrily about Fouché in front of Madame Bonaparte that she responded passionately, "The true enemies of Bonaparte are those who fill his head with ideas of hereditary rule, a dynasty, divorce, and marriage!" Josephine couldn’t hold back this outburst because she knew Roederer supported those ideas, which he promoted at Lucien's urging. I remember a day when she visited us at our small house in Ruel: as I walked with her along the road to her carriage, which she had sent ahead, I candidly expressed my concerns about Bonaparte's ambition and the treacherous advice from his brothers. "Madame," I said, "if we can't convince the General to refrain from making himself a King, I fear for his future. If he ever restores royalty, he will likely work for the Bourbons, allowing them to one day reclaim the throne he establishes. No one can definitively predict the outcomes and events that such a move will bring; but it’s clear that we have to be wary of the negative possibilities. If the old system is reinstated, occupying the throne will become merely a family matter rather than a debate about governance between freedom and tyranny. Why wouldn’t France, if it loses its freedom, prefer the lineage of its former kings? You must know this. You had been married for only two years when your husband told me, upon returning from Italy, that he desired royalty. Now he is Consul for life. If he would only choose to stop there! He already has everything except a meaningless title. No sovereign in Europe wields as much power as he does. I'm sorry to say, Madame, but I truly believe that, despite your wishes, you will end up being made Queen or Empress."







      Madame Bonaparte had allowed me to speak without interruption, but when I
      pronounced the words Queen and Empress she exclaimed, "My God! Bourrienne,
      such ambition is far from my thoughts. That I may always continue the wife
      of the First Consul is all I desire. Say to him all that you have said to
      me. Try and prevent him from making himself King."—"Madame," I
      replied, "times are greatly altered. The wisest men, the strongest minds,
      have resolutely and courageously opposed his tendency to the hereditary
      system. But advice is now useless. He would not listen to me. In all
      discussions on the subject he adheres inflexibly to the view he has taken.
      If he be seriously opposed his anger knows no bounds; his language is
      harsh and abrupt, his tone imperious, and his authority bears down all
      before him."—"Yet, Bourrienne, he has so much confidence in you that
      of you should try once more!"—"Madame, I assure you he will not
      listen to me. Besides, what could I add to the remarks I made upon his
      receiving the letters of Louis XVIII., when I fearlessly represented to
      him that being without children he would have no one to whom to bequeath
      the throne—that, doubtless, from the opinion which he entertained of
      his brothers, he could not desire to erect it for them?" Here Josephine
      again interrupted me by exclaiming, "My kind friend, when you spoke of
      children did he say anything to you? Did he talk of a divorce?"—"Not
      a word, Madame, I assure you."—"If they do not urge him to it, I do
      not believe he will resolve to do such a thing. You know how he likes
      Eugène, and Eugène behaves so well to him. How different is Lucien. It is
      that wretch Lucien, to whom Bonaparte listens too much, and of whom,
      however, he always speaks ill to me."—"I do not know, Madame, what
      Lucien says to his brother except when he chooses to tell me, because
      Lucien always avoids having a witness of his interviews with your husband,
      but I can assure you that for two years I have not heard the word
      'divorce' from the General's mouth."—"I always reckon on you, my
      dear Bourrienne; to turn him away from it; as you did at that time."—"I
      do not believe he is thinking of it, but if it recurs to him, consider,
      Madame, that it will be now from very different motives: He is now
      entirely given up to the interests of his policy and his ambition, which
      dominate every other feeling in him. There will not now be any question of
      scandal, or of a trial before a court, but of an act of authority which
      complaisant laws will justify and which the Church perhaps will sanction."—"That's
      true. You are right. Good God! how unhappy I am."
    
Madame Bonaparte let me speak without interruption, but when I said the words Queen and Empress, she exclaimed, "My God! Bourrienne, such ambition isn’t on my mind. All I want is to continue being the wife of the First Consul. Tell him everything you've said to me. Try to stop him from making himself King."—"Madame," I replied, "times have changed a lot. The wisest and strongest people have firmly opposed his push towards an hereditary system. But advice is pointless now. He wouldn't listen to me. In all conversations about it, he sticks firmly to his viewpoint. If he’s strongly opposed, his anger is immense; his words are harsh and abrupt, his tone demanding, and his authority crushes everyone."—"Yet, Bourrienne, he trusts you so much that you should try one more time!"—"Madame, I assure you he won’t listen to me. Besides, what could I add to what I said when he received the letters from Louis XVIII., when I boldly pointed out that without children, he would have no one to pass the throne to—that, considering his opinion of his brothers, he likely wouldn’t want to establish it for them?" Here Josephine interrupted me again, exclaiming, "My kind friend, when you mentioned children, did he say anything to you? Did he talk about divorce?"—"Not a word, Madame, I assure you."—"If they don’t push him towards it, I don’t believe he’ll make that decision. You know how he feels about Eugène, and Eugène treats him so well. Lucien is so different. It’s that wretched Lucien, whom Bonaparte listens to too much, yet he always speaks poorly of him to me."—"I don't know, Madame, what Lucien tells his brother unless he chooses to share it with me because Lucien always avoids having anyone witness his conversations with your husband, but I can assure you that I haven’t heard the word 'divorce' from the General's mouth in two years."—"I always count on you, my dear Bourrienne, to turn him away from it, just like you did last time."—"I don’t think he’s considering it, but if it comes up, remember, Madame, that it would now be for very different reasons: He’s completely focused on his political interests and his ambition, which overshadow all other feelings in him. There wouldn’t be any talk of scandal or a trial but rather an act of authority that compliant laws would justify and which the Church might even endorse."—"That’s true. You’re right. Good God! How unhappy I am."






 —[When Bourrienne complains of not knowing what passed between
   Lucien and Napoleon, we can turn to Lucien's account of Bourrienne,
   apparently about this very time. "After a stormy interview with
   Napoleon," says Lucien, "I at once went into the cabinet where
   Bourrienne was working, and found that unbearable busybody of a
   secretary, whose star had already paled more than once, which made
   him more prying than ever, quite upset by the time the First Consul
   had taken to come out of his bath. He must, or at least might, have
   heard some noise, for enough had been made. Seeing that he wanted
   to know the cause from me, I took up a newspaper to avoid being
   bored by his conversation" (Iung's Lucien, tome ii. p.156)]— 
 —[When Bourrienne complains about not knowing what happened between Lucien and Napoleon, we can look at Lucien's account of Bourrienne, seemingly around the same time. "After a tense meeting with Napoleon," says Lucien, "I immediately went into the office where Bourrienne was working and found that unbearable busybody of a secretary, whose star had dimmed more than once, making him more nosy than ever, clearly agitated by how long the First Consul took to come out of his bath. He must have, or at least could have, heard some noise, since there had been quite a commotion. Seeing that he wanted to know what was going on from me, I picked up a newspaper to avoid being bored by his chatter" (Iung's Lucien, tome ii. p.156)]— 







      Such was the nature of one of the conversations I had with Madame
      Bonaparte on a subject to which she often recurred. It may not perhaps be
      uninteresting to endeavour to compare with this what Napoleon said at St.
      Helena, speaking of his first wife. According to the Memorial Napoleon
      there stated that when Josephine was at last constrained to renounce all
      hope of having a child, she often let fall allusions to a great political
      fraud, and at length openly proposed it to him. I make no doubt Bonaparte
      made use of words to this effect, but I do not believe the assertion. I
      recollect one day that Bonaparte, on entering our cabinet, where I was
      already seated, exclaimed in a transport of joy impossible for me to
      describe, "Well, Bourrienne, my wife is at last enceinte!" I sincerely
      congratulated him, more, I own, out of courtesy than from any hope of
      seeing him made a father by Josephine, for I well remembered that
      Corvisart, who had given medicines to Madame Bonaparte, had nevertheless
      assured me that he expected no result from them. Medicine was really the
      only political fraud to which Josephine had recourse; and in her situation
      what other woman would not have done as much? Here, then, the husband and
      the wife are in contradiction, which is nothing uncommon. But on which
      side is truth? I have no hesitation in referring it to Josephine. There is
      indeed an immense difference between the statements of a women—trusting
      her fears and her hopes to the sole confidant of her family secrets, and
      the tardy declaration of a man who, after seeing the vast edifice of his
      ambition leveled with the dust, is only anxious, in his compulsory
      retreat, to preserve intact and spotless the other great edifice of his
      glory. Bonaparte should have recollected that Caesar did not like the idea
      of his wife being even suspected.
    
That was the nature of one of the conversations I had with Madame Bonaparte about a topic she often brought up. It might be interesting to compare this with what Napoleon said at St. Helena when discussing his first wife. According to the Memorial, Napoleon mentioned that when Josephine finally had to give up hope of having a child, she frequently hinted at a significant political deception and eventually proposed it to him directly. I have no doubt that Bonaparte used words to that effect, but I don't believe the claim. I remember one day when Bonaparte entered our office, where I was already sitting, and exclaimed with a joy I can't fully describe, "Well, Bourrienne, my wife is finally pregnant!" I congratulated him sincerely, though I admit it was more out of politeness than any real hope of Josephine making him a father, because I clearly remembered that Corvisart, who had treated Madame Bonaparte, had assured me he didn't expect any results from it. Medicine was really the only political deception Josephine resorted to; in her position, what woman wouldn't have done the same? Here, the husband and wife contradict each other, which isn't uncommon. But where does the truth lie? I have no hesitation in siding with Josephine. There is a significant difference between the words of a woman confiding her fears and hopes to her only trusted confidant about her family secrets and the belated statement of a man who, after watching the grand structure of his ambition crumble, is only eager to maintain the integrity of the other great edifice of his glory during his forced retreat. Bonaparte should have remembered that Caesar didn't like the idea of his wife being even suspected.








 


 




















      CHAPTER XII.
    



      1802.
    
1802.


   Citizen Fesch created Cardinal Fesch—Arts and industry—Exhibition
   in the Louvre—Aspect of Paris in 1802—The Medicean Venus and the
   Velletrian Pallas—Signs of general prosperity—Rise of the funds—
   Irresponsible Ministers—The Bourbons—The military Government—
   Annoying familiarity of Lannes—Plan laid for his disgrace—
   Indignation of Lannes—His embassy to Portugal—The delayed
   despatch—Bonaparte's rage—I resign my situation—Duroc—
   I breakfast with Bonaparte—Duroc's intercession—Temporary
   reconciliation.

   Citizen Fesch created Cardinal Fesch—Arts and industry—Exhibition in the Louvre—Aspect of Paris in 1802—The Medicean Venus and the Velletrian Pallas—Signs of general prosperity—Rise of the funds—Irresponsible Ministers—The Bourbons—The military Government—Annoying familiarity of Lannes—Plan laid for his disgrace—Indignation of Lannes—His embassy to Portugal—The delayed dispatch—Bonaparte's rage—I resign my position—Duroc—I have breakfast with Bonaparte—Duroc's intercession—Temporary reconciliation.







      Citizen Fesch, who, when we were forced to stop at Ajaccio on our return
      from Egypt, discounted at rather a high rate the General-in-Chief's
      Egyptian sequins, became again the Abbe Fesch, as soon as Bonaparte by his
      Consular authority re-erected the altars which the Revolution had
      overthrown. On the 15th of August 1802 he was consecrated Bishop, and the
      following year received the Cardinal's hat. Thus Bonaparte took advantage
      of one of the members of his family being in orders to elevate him to the
      highest dignities of the Church. He afterwards gave Cardinal Fesch the
      Archbishopric of Lyons, of which place he was long the titular.
    
Citizen Fesch, who, when we had to stop in Ajaccio on our way back from Egypt, exchanged the General-in-Chief's Egyptian sequins at a pretty high rate, became Abbe Fesch again as soon as Bonaparte used his Consular authority to restore the altars that the Revolution had dismantled. On August 15, 1802, he was consecrated as a Bishop, and the year after, he received the title of Cardinal. This way, Bonaparte took advantage of having a family member in the clergy to elevate him to the highest positions in the Church. He later appointed Cardinal Fesch as the Archbishop of Lyons, a title he held for a long time.






 —[Like Cambacérès the Cardinal was a bit of a gourmet, and on one
   occasion had invited a large party of clerical magnates to dinner.
   By a coincidence two turbots of singular beauty arrived as presents
   to his Eminence on the very morning of the feast. To serve both
   would have appeared ridiculous, but the Cardinal was most anxious to
   have the credit of both. He imparted his embarrassment to his chef:

   "'Be of good faith, your Eminence,' was the reply, 'both shall appear
   and enjoy the reception so justly their due.' The dinner was
   served: one of the turbots relieved the soup. Delight was on every
   face—it was the moment of the 'eprouvette positive'. The 'maitre
   a'hotel' advances; two attendants raise the turbot and carry him off
   to cut him up; but one of them loses his equilibrium: the attendants
   and the turbot roll together on the floor. At this sad sight the
   assembled Cardinals became as pale as death, and a solemn silence
   reigned in the 'conclave'—it was the moment of the 'eprouvette
   negative'; but the 'maitre a'hotel' suddenly turns to one of the
   attendants, Bring another turbot,' said he, with the most perfect
   coolness. The second appeared, and the eprouvette positive was
   gloriously renewed." (Hayward's Art of Dining, P. 65.)]— 
 —[Like Cambacérès, the Cardinal was a bit of a foodie, and one time he invited a large group of high-ranking clergy to dinner. Coincidentally, two stunning turbots arrived as gifts for his Eminence on the very morning of the feast. Serving both would have seemed silly, but the Cardinal was eager to take credit for both. He shared his dilemma with his chef:

   "'Have no worries, your Eminence,' was the response, 'both will be presented and enjoy the recognition they deserve.' The dinner was served: one of the turbots replaced the soup. Delight was on every face—it was the moment of the 'positive test.' The 'head waiter' approached; two servers lifted the turbot to take it away for carving, but one of them lost his balance: the servers and the turbot tumbled together on the floor. At this disheartening sight, the gathered Cardinals turned as pale as death, and a heavy silence fell over the 'conclave'—it was the moment of the 'negative test'; but the 'head waiter' suddenly turned to one of the servers, saying, 'Bring another turbot,' with complete composure. The second one appeared, and the positive test was triumphantly reinstated." (Hayward's Art of Dining, P. 65.)]—







      The First Consul prided himself a good deal on his triumph, at least in
      appearance, over the scruples which the persons who surrounded him had
      manifested against the re-establishment of worship. He read with much
      self-satisfaction the reports made to him, in which it was stated that the
      churches were well frequented: Indeed, throughout the year 1802, all his
      attention was directed to the reformation of manners, which had become
      more dissolute under the Directory than even during the Reign of Terror.
    
The First Consul took a lot of pride in how he seemed to have overcome the reservations of those around him about restoring religious worship. He read the reports he received with great satisfaction, noting that the churches were well attended. In fact, throughout 1802, he focused entirely on improving public behavior, which had become even more immoral under the Directory than during the Reign of Terror.







      In his march of usurpation the First Consul let slip no opportunity of
      endeavouring to obtain at the same time the admiration of the multitude
      and the approbation of judicious men. He was very fond of the arts, and
      was sensible that the promotion of industry ought to be the peculiar care
      of the head of the Government. It must, however, at the same time be owned
      that he rendered the influence of his protection null and void by the
      continual violations he committed on that liberty which is the animating
      principle of all improvement.
    
In his quest for power, the First Consul seized every chance to gain the admiration of the public and the approval of thoughtful leaders. He had a great appreciation for the arts and understood that fostering industry should be a top priority for the leader of the Government. However, it must also be acknowledged that he undermined the effect of his support by repeatedly violating the very freedom that drives all progress.







      During the supplementary days of the year X., that is to say, about the
      beginning of the autumn of 1802, there was held at the Louvre an
      exhibition of the products of industry. The First Consul visited the
      exhibition, and as even at that period he had begun to attribute every
      good result to himself, he seemed proud of the high degree of perfection
      the manufacturing arts had attained in France. He was, above all,
      delighted with the admiration this exhibition excited among the numerous
      foreigners who resorted to Paris during the peace.
    
During the extra days of the year X, around the start of autumn in 1802, there was an exhibition of industrial products at the Louvre. The First Consul attended the exhibition, and since he had started to take credit for every positive outcome by that time, he appeared proud of the high level of excellence that manufacturing in France had reached. He was especially pleased with the admiration this exhibition generated among the many foreigners who visited Paris during the peace.







      In fact, throughout the year 1802 the capital presented an interesting and
      animating-spectacle. The appetite for luxury and pleasure had insinuated
      itself into manners—which were no longer republican, and the vast
      number of Russians and English who drove about everywhere with brilliant
      equipages contributed not a little to this metamorphosis. All Paris
      flocked to the Carrousel on review days, and regarded with eyes of delight
      the unusual sight of rich foreign liveries and emblazoned carriages. The
      parties at the Tuileries were brilliant and numerous, and nothing was
      wanting but the name of levees. Count Markoff, who succeeded M. de
      Kalitscheff as Russian ambassador; the Marquis de Lucchesini, the Prussian
      ambassador; and Lord Whitworth, the Minister from England, made numerous
      presentations of their countrymen to the First Consul, who was well
      pleased that the Court he was forming should have examples set by foreign
      courtiers. Never since the meeting of the States-General had the theatres
      been so frequented, or fetes so magnificent; and never since that period
      had Paris presented so cheering an aspect. The First Consul, on his part,
      spared no exertion to render the capital more and more worthy the
      admiration of foreigners. The statue of the Venus de Medicis, which had
      been robbed from the gallery of the Grand Duke of Tuscany, now decorated
      the gallery of the Louvre, and near it was placed that of the Velletrian
      Pallas, a more legitimate acquisition, since it was the result of the
      researches of some French engineers at Velletri. Everywhere an air of
      prosperity was perceptible, and Bonaparte proudly put in his claim to be
      regarded as the author of it all. With what heartfelt satisfaction did he
      likewise cast his eye upon what he called the grand thermometer of
      opinion, the price of the funds! For if he saw them doubled in value in
      consequence of the revolution of the 18th Brumaire, rising as they did at
      that period from seven to sixteen francs, this value was even more than
      tripled after the vote of Consulship for life and the 'Senates-consulte'
      of the 4th of August,—when they rose to fifty-two francs.
    
In fact, throughout 1802, the capital was an exciting and lively scene. The desire for luxury and enjoyment had crept into people's behavior, which was no longer republican, and the large number of Russians and English driving around in flashy carriages contributed significantly to this change. All of Paris gathered at the Carrousel on review days, delighting in the rare sight of rich foreign uniforms and decorated carriages. The gatherings at the Tuileries were brilliant and plentiful, needing only the title of levees. Count Markoff, who took over from M. de Kalitscheff as the Russian ambassador; the Marquis de Lucchesini, the Prussian ambassador; and Lord Whitworth, the English Minister, made many introductions of their fellow countrymen to the First Consul, who was pleased that the court he was building would have examples set by foreign nobles. Never since the meeting of the States-General had the theaters been so popular, or celebrations so grand; and never since that time had Paris looked so vibrant. The First Consul himself made every effort to make the capital more and more deserving of admiration from foreigners. The statue of the Venus de Medicis, which had been taken from the Grand Duke of Tuscany's gallery, was now displayed in the Louvre, alongside the Velletrian Pallas statue, a more legitimate acquisition thanks to the work of some French engineers at Velletri. Everywhere, there was an air of prosperity, and Bonaparte proudly claimed credit for it all. With immense satisfaction, he also kept an eye on what he called the grand thermometer of public opinion—the price of stocks! For when he saw them double in value after the revolution of the 18th Brumaire, rising from seven to sixteen francs, this value had even more than tripled after the vote for his lifetime consulship and the 'Senates-consulte' of August 4th—when they climbed to fifty-two francs.







      While Paris presented so satisfactory an aspect the departments were in a
      state of perfect tranquillity; and foreign affairs had every appearance of
      security. The Court of the Vatican, which since the Concordat may be said
      to have become devoted to the First Consul, gave, under all circumstances,
      examples of submission to the wishes of France. The Vatican was the first
      Court which recognised the erection of Tuscany into the Kingdom of
      Etruria, and the formation of the Helvetic, Cisalpine, and Batavian
      Republics. Prussia soon followed the example of the Pope, which was
      successively imitated by the other powers of Europe.
    
While Paris looked quite impressive, the departments were completely calm, and foreign affairs seemed secure. The Vatican, which since the Concordat had aligned itself with the First Consul, consistently showed its willingness to comply with France's desires. The Vatican was the first government to recognize the creation of Tuscany as the Kingdom of Etruria, along with the establishment of the Helvetic, Cisalpine, and Batavian Republics. Prussia quickly followed the Pope's lead, and other European powers eventually did the same.







      The whole of these new states, realms, or republics were under the
      immediate influence of France. The Isle of Elba, which Napoleon's first
      abdication afterwards rendered so famous, and Piedmont, divided into six
      departments, were also united to France, still called it Republic.
      Everything now seemed to concur in securing his accession to absolute
      power. We were now at peace with all the world, and every circumstance
      tended to place in the hands of the First Consul that absolute power which
      indeed was the only kind of government he was capable of forming any
      conception of. Indeed, one of the characteristic signs of Napoleon's
      government, even under the Consular system, left no doubt as to his real
      intentions. Had he wished to found a free Government it is evident that he
      world have made the Ministers responsible to the country, whereas he took
      care that there should be no responsibility but to himself. He viewed
      them, in fact, in the light of instruments which he might break as he
      pleased. I found this single index sufficient to disclose all his future
      designs. In order to make the irresponsibility of his Ministers to the
      public perfectly clear, he had all the acts of his Government signed
      merely by M. Maret, Secretary of State. Thus the Consulship for life was
      nothing but an Empire in disguise, the usufruct of which could not long
      satisfy the First Consul's ambition. His brothers influenced him, and it
      was resolved to found a new dynasty.
    
The entire set of new states, territories, or republics was directly under France's influence. The Isle of Elba, which became famous after Napoleon's first abdication, and Piedmont, divided into six departments, were also incorporated into France, still referred to as a Republic. Everything seemed to align to ensure his rise to absolute power. We were now at peace with the world, and every factor pointed to placing that absolute power in the hands of the First Consul, which was indeed the only type of government he could comprehend. One of the defining features of Napoleon's rule, even under the Consular system, left no doubt about his true intentions. If he had wanted to establish a free government, it was clear he would have made the Ministers accountable to the public, but instead, he ensured that there was no accountability except to himself. He essentially viewed them as tools that he could discard whenever he wished. I found this single indicator enough to reveal all his future plans. To make the lack of accountability of his Ministers to the public clear, he had all governmental acts signed only by M. Maret, Secretary of State. Thus, the lifelong Consulship was merely an Empire in disguise, the benefit of which could not long satisfy the First Consul's ambition. His brothers influenced him, and it was decided to establish a new dynasty.







      It was not in the interior of France that difficulties were likely first
      to arise on Bonaparte's carrying his designs into effect, but there was
      some reason to apprehend that foreign powers, after recognising and
      treating with the Consular Government, might display a different feeling,
      and entertain scruples with regard to a Government which had resumed its
      monarchical form. The question regarding the Bourbons was in some measure
      kept in the background as long as France remained a Republic, but the
      re-establishment of the throne naturally called to recollection the family
      which had occupied it for so many ages. Bonaparte fully felt the delicacy
      of his position, but he knew how to face obstacles, and had been
      accustomed to overcome them: he, however, always proceeded cautiously, as
      when obstacles induced him to defer the period of the Consulship for life.
    
It wasn't in the interior of France that problems were likely to first arise with Bonaparte implementing his plans, but there were some concerns that foreign powers, after recognizing and engaging with the Consular Government, might show a different attitude and have reservations about a government that had reverted to a monarchy. The issue regarding the Bourbons was somewhat sidelined as long as France remained a Republic, but the restoration of the throne naturally reminded everyone of the family that had held it for so many years. Bonaparte was acutely aware of the sensitivity of his situation, but he knew how to confront challenges and had learned to overcome them. However, he always moved carefully, as when obstacles led him to delay the establishment of the Consulship for life.







      Bonaparte laboured to establish in France not only an absolute government,
      but, what is still worse, a military one. He considered a decree signed by
      his hand possessed of a magic virtue capable of transforming his generals
      into able diplomatists, and so he sent them on embassies, as if to show
      the Sovereigns to whom they were accredited that he soon meant to take
      their thrones by assault. The appointment of Lannes to the Court of Lisbon
      originated from causes which probably will be read with some interest,
      since they serve to place Bonaparte's character in, its true light, and to
      point out, at the same time, the means he disdained not to resort to, if
      he wished to banish his most faithful friends when their presence was no
      longer agreeable to him.
    
Bonaparte worked to establish not just an absolute government in France, but even worse, a military one. He believed that a decree signed by him held a kind of magic that could turn his generals into skilled diplomats, so he sent them on diplomatic missions, as if to signal to the rulers they were meeting that he intended to take their thrones by force. The decision to appoint Lannes to the Court of Lisbon came from reasons that will likely be of interest, as they reveal Bonaparte's true character and show the lengths he would go to if he wanted to remove his most loyal friends when their presence was no longer suitable for him.







      Bonaparte had ceased to address Lannes in the second person singular; but
      that general continued the familiarity of thee and thou in speaking to
      Napoleon. It is hardly possible to conceive how much this annoyed the
      First Consul. Aware of the unceremonious candour of his old comrade, whose
      daring spirit he knew would prompt him to go as great lengths in civil
      affairs as on the field of battle, Bonaparte, on the great occasion of the
      18th Brumaire, fearing his reproaches, had given him the command of Paris
      in order to ensure his absence from St. Cloud.
    
Bonaparte had stopped addressing Lannes as "you," but that general kept using "thee" and "thou" when talking to Napoleon. It’s hard to imagine how much this irritated the First Consul. Knowing the straightforwardness of his old comrade, whose bold nature he realized would lead him to take significant risks in politics as well as on the battlefield, Bonaparte, during the crucial event of the 18th Brumaire, worried about Lannes' criticism and had given him command of Paris to keep him away from St. Cloud.







      After that time, notwithstanding the continually growing greatness of the
      First Consul, which, as it increased, daily exacted more and more
      deference, Lannes still preserved his freedom of speech, and was the only
      one who dared to treat Bonaparte as a comrade, and tell him the truth
      without ceremony. This was enough to determine Napoleon to rid himself of
      the presence of Lannes. But under what pretext was the absence of the
      conqueror of Montebello to be procured? It was necessary to conjure up an
      excuse; and in the truly diabolical machination resorted to for that
      purpose, Bonaparte brought into play that crafty disposition for which he
      was so remarkable.
    
After that time, despite the constantly increasing power of the First Consul, which demanded more and more respect as it grew, Lannes still maintained his freedom of speech and was the only one brave enough to treat Bonaparte like a fellow soldier and speak the truth without formalities. This was enough to prompt Napoleon to want to get rid of Lannes. But what excuse could he use to send away the conqueror of Montebello? It was necessary to come up with a reason, and in the truly cunning scheme he devised for that purpose, Bonaparte displayed the slyness he was well-known for.







      Lannes, who never looked forward to the morrow, was as careless of his
      money as of his blood. Poor officers and soldiers partook largely of his
      liberality. Thus he had no fortune, but plenty of debts when he wanted
      money, and this was not seldom, he used to come, as if it were a mere
      matter of course, to ask it of the First Consul, who, I must confess,
      never refused him. Bonaparte, though he well knew the general's
      circumstances, said to him one day, "My friend, you should attend a little
      more to appearances. You must have your establishment suitable to your
      rank. There is the Hotel de Noailles—why don't you take it, and
      furnish it in proper style?" Lannes, whose own candour prevented him from
      suspecting the artful designs of others, followed the advice of the First
      Consul. The Hotel de Noailles was taken and superbly fitted up. Odiot
      supplied a service of plate valued at 200,000 francs.
    
Lannes, who never looked forward to tomorrow, was as careless with his money as he was with his life. Poor officers and soldiers often benefited from his generosity. As a result, he had no wealth but plenty of debt. When he needed money—and this was often—he would casually go to ask the First Consul for it, who, I must admit, never turned him down. Bonaparte, fully aware of the general's situation, once said to him, "My friend, you should pay a bit more attention to appearances. You need a home that matches your rank. There’s the Hotel de Noailles—why don’t you get it and furnish it properly?" Lannes, whose honesty made him oblivious to the scheming of others, went along with the First Consul's suggestion. The Hotel de Noailles was acquired and lavishly decorated. Odiot provided a set of silverware worth 200,000 francs.







      General Lannes having thus conformed to the wishes of Bonaparte came to
      him and requested 400,000 francs, the amount of the expense incurred, as
      it were, by his order. "But," said the First Consul, "I have no money."—"You
      have no money! What the devil am I to do, then?"
    
General Lannes, following Bonaparte's wishes, came to him and asked for 400,000 francs, the amount of the expense he had incurred, as if it were by Bonaparte’s order. "But," said the First Consul, "I have no money."—"You have no money! What am I supposed to do, then?"







      "But is there none in the Guard's chest? Take what you require, and we
      will settle it, hereafter."
    
"But is there nothing in the Guard's chest? Take what you need, and we'll deal with it later."







      Mistrusting nothing, Lannes went to the treasurer of the Guards, who made
      some objections at first to the advance required, but who soon yielded on
      learning that the demand was made with the consent of the First Consul.
    
Mistrusting nothing, Lannes went to the treasurer of the Guards, who initially raised some objections to the requested advance, but soon relented upon discovering that the demand was made with the approval of the First Consul.







      Within twenty-four hours after Lannes had obtained the 400,000 francs the
      treasurer received from the head commissary an order to balance his
      accounts. The receipt for the 400,000 francs advanced to Lannes, was not
      acknowledged as a voucher. In vain the treasurer alleged the authority of
      the First Consul for the transaction. Napoleon's memory had suddenly
      failed him; he had entirely forgotten all about it. In a word, it was
      incumbent on Lannes to refund the 400,000 francs to the Guards' chest;
      and, as I have already said, he had no property on earth, but debts in
      abundance. He repaired to General Lefebre, who loved him as his son, and
      to him he related all that had passed. "Simpleton," said Lefebvre, "why
      did you not come to me? Why did you go and get into debt with that ——-?
      Well, here are the 400,000 francs; take them to him, and let him go to the
      devil!"
    
Within twenty-four hours after Lannes got the 400,000 francs, the treasurer received an order from the head commissary to balance his accounts. The receipt for the 400,000 francs advanced to Lannes was not recognized as a voucher. The treasurer tried in vain to use the authority of the First Consul to justify the transaction. Napoleon had suddenly forgotten all about it; it was as if his memory had failed him completely. In short, Lannes was required to refund the 400,000 francs to the Guards' fund, and as I mentioned before, he had no assets whatsoever, only a lot of debts. He went to General Lefebvre, who loved him like a son, and shared everything that had happened. "You're such a fool," said Lefebvre, "why didn't you come to me? Why did you end up getting into debt with that jerk? Here, take these 400,000 francs and give them to him, and let him deal with it!"







      Lannes hastened to the First Consul. "What!"—he exclaimed, "is it
      possible you can be guilty of such baseness as this? To treat me in such a
      manner! To lay such a foul snare for me after all that I have done for
      you; after all the blood I have shed to promote your ambition! Is this the
      recompense you had in store for me? You forget the 13th Vendemiaire, to
      the success of which I contributed more than you! You forget Millesimo: I
      was colonel before you! For whom did I fight at Bassano? You were witness
      of what I did at Lodi and at Governolo, where I was wounded; and yet you
      play me such a trick as this! But for me, Paris would have revolted on the
      18th Brumaire. But for me, you would have lost the battle of Marengo. I
      alone, yes, I alone, passed the Po, at Montebello, with my whole division.
      You gave the credit of that to Berthier, who was not there; and this is my
      reward—humiliation. This cannot, this shall not be. I will——"
      Bonaparte, pale with anger, listened without stirring, and Lannes was on
      the point of challenging him when Junot, who heard the uproar, hastily
      entered. The unexpected presence of this general somewhat reassured the
      First Consul, and at the same time calmed, in some degree, the fury of
      Lannes. "Well," said Bonaparte, "go to Lisbon. You will get money there;
      and when you return you will not want any one to pay your debts for you."
      Thus was Bonaparte's object gained. Lannes set out for Lisbon, and never
      afterwards annoyed the First Consul by his familiarities, for on his
      return he ceased to address him with thee and thou.
    
Lannes rushed over to the First Consul. "What!" he exclaimed, "is it really possible that you're guilty of such a low act? To treat me like this! To set such a disgusting trap for me after everything I've done for you; after all the blood I've spilled to support your ambition! Is this the thanks you had planned for me? You've forgotten the 13th Vendemiaire, where I contributed more to the success than you! You've forgotten Millesimo: I was a colonel before you! Who did I fight for at Bassano? You saw what I did at Lodi and at Governolo, where I was wounded; and yet you pull this on me! Without me, Paris would have revolted on the 18th Brumaire. Without me, you would have lost the Battle of Marengo. I alone, yes, I alone, crossed the Po at Montebello with my entire division. You gave credit for that to Berthier, who wasn’t even there; and this is my reward—humiliation. This cannot, this will not stand. I will——" Bonaparte, pale with anger, listened without moving, and Lannes was about to challenge him when Junot, having heard the commotion, hurried in. The unexpected arrival of this general calmed Bonaparte somewhat and also lessened Lannes' fury. "Well," said Bonaparte, "go to Lisbon. You'll find money there; and when you come back, you won't need anyone to pay your debts for you." Thus, Bonaparte achieved his goal. Lannes left for Lisbon and never bothered the First Consul with his familiarity again, for upon his return he stopped addressing him as "thee" and "thou."







      Having described Bonaparte's ill-treatment of Lannes I may here subjoin a
      statement of the circumstances which led to a rupture between the First
      Consul and me. So many false stories have been circulated on the subject
      that I am anxious to relate the facts as they really were.
    
Having described Bonaparte's mistreatment of Lannes, I want to add an account of the events that caused a break between the First Consul and me. So many false stories have been spread about this that I'm eager to share what actually happened.







      Nine months had now passed since I had tendered my resignation to the
      First Consul. The business of my office had become too great for me, and
      my health was so much endangered by over-application that my physician, M.
      Corvisart, who had for a long time impressed upon me the necessity of
      relaxation, now formally warned me that I should not long hold out under
      the fatigue I underwent. Corvisart had no doubt spoken to the same effect
      to the First Consul, for the latter said to me one day, in a tone which
      betrayed but little feeling, "Why, Corvisart says you have not a year to
      live." This was certainly no very welcome compliment in the mouth of an
      old college friend, yet I must confess that the doctor risked little by
      the prediction.
    
Nine months had passed since I resigned from my position with the First Consul. The workload had become overwhelming, and my health was seriously threatened by working too much. My doctor, M. Corvisart, had long emphasized the need for me to take a break, and he finally warned me that I wouldn’t be able to endure the fatigue for much longer. Corvisart must have mentioned this to the First Consul as well, since one day, in a somewhat indifferent tone, the Consul said to me, "Well, Corvisart says you don’t have a year to live." It wasn’t exactly a flattering comment coming from an old college friend, but I have to admit the doctor wasn't taking much of a risk with that prediction.







      I had resolved, in fact, to follow the advice of Corvisart; my family were
      urgent in their entreaties that I would do so, but I always put off the
      decisive step. I was loath to give up a friendship which had subsisted so
      long, and which had been only once disturbed: on that occasion when Joseph
      thought proper to play the spy upon me at the table of Fouché. I
      remembered also the reception I had met with from the conqueror of Italy;
      and I experienced, moreover, no slight pain at the thought of quitting one
      from whom I had received so many proofs of confidence, and to whom I had
      been attached from early boyhood. These considerations constantly
      triumphed over the disgust to which I was subjected by a number of
      circumstances, and by the increasing vexations occasioned by the conflict
      between my private sentiments and the nature of the duties I had to
      perform.
    
I had decided, in fact, to take Corvisart's advice; my family was pressing me to do so, but I kept putting off the crucial step. I was reluctant to give up a friendship that had lasted so long and had only been disturbed once: when Joseph thought it was appropriate to spy on me at Fouché's table. I also remembered the way I had been received by the conqueror of Italy; plus, I felt a real pain at the thought of leaving someone who had shown me so much trust and to whom I had been attached since childhood. These thoughts always won out over the frustration caused by various circumstances and the growing annoyances from the conflict between my personal feelings and the duties I had to fulfill.







      I was thus kept in a state of perplexity, from which some unforeseen
      circumstance alone could extricate me. Such a circumstance at length
      occurred, and the following is the history of my first rupture with
      Napoleon:
    
I was kept in a state of confusion, from which only an unexpected event could rescue me. That event finally happened, and here’s the story of my first break with Napoleon:







      On the 27th of February 1802, at ten at night, Bonaparte dictated to me a
      despatch of considerable importance and urgency, for M. de Talleyrand,
      requesting the Minister for Foreign Affairs to come to the Tuileries next
      morning at an appointed hour. According to custom, I put the letter into
      the hands of the office messenger that it might be forwarded to its
      destination.
    
On February 27, 1802, at 10 PM, Bonaparte dictated an important and urgent message to me for M. de Talleyrand, asking the Minister of Foreign Affairs to come to the Tuileries the next morning at a specific time. As usual, I handed the letter to the office messenger to be delivered to its destination.







      This was Saturday. The following day, Sunday, M. de Talleyrand came as if
      for an audience about mid-day. The First Consul immediately began to
      confer with him on the subject of the letter sent the previous evening,
      and was astonished to learn that the Minister had not received it until
      the morning. He immediately rang for the messenger, and ordered me to be
      sent for. Being in a very bad humour, he pulled the bell with so much fury
      that he struck his hand violently against the angle of the chimney-piece.
      I hurried to his presence. "Why," he said, addressing me hastily, "why was
      not my letter delivered yesterday evening?"—"I do not know: I put it
      at once into the hands of the person whose duty it was to see that it was
      sent."—"Go and find the cause of the delay, and come back quickly."
      Having rapidly made my inquiries, I returned to the cabinet. "Well?" said
      the First Consul, whose irritation seemed to have increased. "Well,
      General, it is not the fault of anybody, M. de Talleyrand was not to be
      found, either at the office or at his own residence, or at the houses of
      any of his friends where he was thought likely to be." Not knowing with
      whom to be angry, restrained by the coolness of M. de Talleyrand, yet at
      the same time ready to burst with rage, Bonaparte rose from his seat, and
      proceeding to the hall, called the messenger and questioned him sharply.
      The man, disconcerted by the anger of the First Consul, hesitated in his
      replies, and gave confused answers. Bonaparte returned to his cabinet
      still more irritated than he had left it.
    
It was Saturday. The next day, Sunday, M. de Talleyrand came in for a meeting around midday. The First Consul immediately started discussing the letter that had been sent the night before and was shocked to learn that the Minister hadn't received it until the morning. He quickly called for the messenger and ordered me to come in. In a really bad mood, he rang the bell so aggressively that he hit his hand hard against the corner of the fireplace. I rushed to see him. "Why," he asked me quickly, "was my letter not delivered last night?"—"I don't know. I gave it right away to the person responsible for sending it."—"Go find out what caused the delay and come back fast." After quickly making my inquiries, I returned to the office. "Well?" said the First Consul, looking even more irritated. "Well, General, it's not anyone's fault; M. de Talleyrand couldn't be found at either the office or his home, or at any of his friends' places where he might have been." Not knowing who to be mad at, held back by M. de Talleyrand's calmness but still ready to explode with anger, Bonaparte got up from his seat, went to the hall, called the messenger, and grilled him. The man, thrown off by the First Consul's anger, hesitated and gave mixed-up answers. Bonaparte returned to his office even more annoyed than when he left.







      I had followed him to the hall, and on my way back to the cabinet I
      attempted to soothe him, and I begged him not to be thus discomposed by a
      circumstance which, after all, was of no great moment. I do not know
      whether his anger was increased by the sight of the blood which flowed
      from his hand, and which he was every moment looking at; but however that
      might be, a transport of furious passion, such as I had never before
      witnessed, seized him; and as I was about to enter the cabinet after him
      he threw back the door with so much violence that, had I been two or three
      inches nearer him, it must infallibly have struck me in the face. He
      accompanied this action, which was almost convulsive, with an appellation,
      not to be borne; he exclaimed before M. de Talleyrand, "Leave me alone;
      you are a fool." At an insult so atrocious I confess that the anger which
      had already mastered the First Consul suddenly seized on me. I thrust the
      door forward with as much impetuosity as he had used in throwing it back,
      and, scarcely knowing what I said, exclaimed, "You are a hundredfold a
      greater fool than I am!" I then banged the door and went upstairs to my
      apartment, which was situated over the cabinet.
    
I had followed him to the hallway, and on my way back to the office, I tried to calm him down and pleaded with him not to be so upset over something that really wasn’t that important. I’m not sure if his anger was made worse by the sight of the blood dripping from his hand, which he kept looking at, but regardless, he suddenly exploded with a level of rage I had never seen before. Just as I was about to enter the office after him, he slammed the door open with such force that if I had been even a couple of inches closer, it would have hit me in the face. He punctuated this almost frantic move with an unbearable insult, yelling in front of M. de Talleyrand, "Leave me alone; you’re an idiot." At such a shocking insult, I admit the anger that had already taken hold of the First Consul suddenly overwhelmed me too. I shoved the door forward with as much force as he had used to throw it open and, barely aware of what I was saying, shouted, "You’re a hundred times a bigger idiot than I am!" I then slammed the door and went upstairs to my room, which was above the office.







      I was as far from expecting as from wishing such an occasion of separating
      from the First Consul. But what was done could not be undone; and
      therefore, without taking time for reflection, and still under the
      influence of the anger that had got the better of me, I penned the
      following positive resignation:
    
I was just as surprised as I was unwilling to have to separate from the First Consul. But what was done couldn’t be undone; so, without taking time to think it over and still feeling the anger that had taken over me, I wrote the following clear resignation:






GENERAL—The state of my health no longer permits me to continue in your
service. I therefore beg you to accept my resignation.
                         BOURRIENNE.

GENERAL—My health no longer allows me to continue working for you. Therefore, I kindly ask you to accept my resignation.  
                         BOURRIENNE.







      Some moments after this note was written I saw Bonaparte's saddle-horses
      brought up to the entrance of the Palace. It was Sunday morning, and,
      contrary to his usual custom on that day, he was going to ride out.
    
Some time after this note was written, I saw Bonaparte's horses brought to the entrance of the Palace. It was Sunday morning, and, unlike his usual routine on that day, he was planning to go for a ride.







      Duroc accompanied him. He was no sooner done than I, went down into his
      cabinet, and placed my letter on his table. On returning at four o'clock
      with Duroc Bonaparte read my letter. "Ah! ah!" said he, before opening it,
      "a letter from Bourrienne." And he almost immediately added, for the note
      was speedily perused, "He is in the sulks.—Accepted." I had left the
      Tuileries at the moment he returned, but Duroc sent to me where I was
      dining the following billet:
    
Duroc went with him. As soon as he finished, I went down to his office and placed my letter on his desk. When I returned at four o'clock with Duroc, Bonaparte read my letter. "Ah! ah!" he said before opening it, "a letter from Bourrienne." He quickly added, after reading it, "He's in a mood.—Accepted." I had left the Tuileries just as he returned, but Duroc sent me this note while I was eating:






The First Consul desires me, my dear Bourrienne, to inform you that he
accepts your resignation, and to request that you will give me the
necessary information respecting your papers.—Yours,
                            DUROC.

The First Consul wants me to let you know, my dear Bourrienne, that he accepts your resignation, and he requests that you provide me with the necessary information regarding your papers.—Yours,  
                            DUROC.







      P.S.:—I will call on you presently.
    
P.S.:—I’ll call you shortly.







      Duroc came to me at eight o'clock the same evening. The First Consul was
      in his cabinet when we entered it. I immediately commenced giving my
      intended successor the necessary explanations to enable him to enter upon
      his new duties. Piqued at finding that I did not speak to him, and at the
      coolness with which I instructed Duroc, Bonaparte said to me in a harsh
      tone, "Come, I have had enough of this! Leave me." I stepped down from the
      ladder on which I had mounted for the purpose of pointing out to Duroc the
      places in which the various papers were deposited and hastily withdrew. I
      too had quite enough of it!
    
Duroc came to see me at eight o'clock that evening. The First Consul was in his office when we walked in. I immediately started giving my intended successor the necessary explanations to help him take on his new responsibilities. Annoyed that I wasn’t speaking to him and at the cold way I was instructing Duroc, Bonaparte said to me in a harsh tone, "Come on, that’s enough! Leave me." I stepped down from the ladder I had climbed to show Duroc where the various papers were filed and quickly left. I had had enough of it too!







      I remained two more days at the Tuileries until I had suited myself with
      lodgings. On Monday I went down into the cabinet of the First Consul to
      take my leave of him. We conversed together for a long time, and very
      amicably. He told me he was very sorry I was going to leave him, and that
      he would do all he could for me. I pointed out several places to him; at
      last I mentioned the Tribunate. "That will not do for you," he said; "the
      members are a set of babblers and phrasemongers, whom I mean to get rid
      of. All the troubles of States proceed from such debatings. I am tired of
      them." He continued to talk in a strain which left me in no doubt as to
      his uneasiness about the Tribunate, which, in fact, reckoned among its
      members many men of great talent and excellent character.
    
I stayed two more days at the Tuileries until I found a place to live. On Monday, I went to the First Consul’s office to say goodbye. We talked for a long time and got along well. He expressed his regret that I was leaving and said he would do everything he could to help me. I suggested a few positions to him, and finally mentioned the Tribunate. "That won't work for you," he replied; "the members are just a bunch of talkers and word-spitters that I plan to get rid of. All the issues within states come from those kinds of debates. I'm done with them." He kept speaking in a way that made it clear he was uncomfortable with the Tribunate, which actually included many talented and good people among its members.






 —[In 1802 the First Consul made a reduction of fifty members of the
   Tribunate, and subsequently the whole body was suppressed.
   —Bourrienne.]— 
—[In 1802, the First Consul reduced the number of members in the Tribunate by fifty, and later the entire body was abolished. —Bourrienne.]—







      The following day, Tuesday, the First Consul asked me to breakfast with
      him. After breakfast, while he was conversing with some other person,
      Madame Bonaparte and Hortense pressed me to make advances towards
      obtaining a re-instalment in my office, appealing to me on the score of
      the friendship and kindness they had always shown me. They told me that I
      had been in the wrong, and that I had forgotten myself. I answered that I
      considered the evil beyond remedy; and that, besides, I had really need of
      repose. The First Consul then called me to him, and conversed a
      considerable time with me, renewing his protestations of goodwill towards
      me.
    
The next day, Tuesday, the First Consul invited me to have breakfast with him. After we finished eating, while he was talking to someone else, Madame Bonaparte and Hortense urged me to seek reinstatement in my job, reminding me of the friendship and kindness they had always shown me. They told me I had made mistakes and had lost my way. I replied that I believed the damage was beyond repair and that, more importantly, I really needed some rest. The First Consul then called me over and talked with me for quite a while, reaffirming his goodwill towards me.







      At five o'clock I was going downstairs to quit the Tuileries for good when
      I was met by the office messenger, who told me that the First Consul
      wished to see me. Duroc; who was in the room leading to the cabinet,
      stopped me as I passed, and said, "He wishes you to remain. I beg of you
      not to refuse; do me this favour. I have assured him that I am incapable
      of filling your office. It does not suit my habits; and besides, to tell
      you the truth, the business is too irksome for me." I proceeded to the
      cabinet without replying to Duroc. The First Consul came up to me smiling,
      and pulling me by the ear, as he did when he was in the best of humours,
      said to me, "Are you still in the sulks?" and leading me to my usual seat
      he added, "Come, sit down."
    
At five o'clock, I was heading downstairs to leave the Tuileries for good when the office messenger stopped me and said the First Consul wanted to see me. Duroc, who was in the hallway leading to the cabinet, stopped me as I walked by and said, "He wants you to stay. Please don't refuse; do me this favor. I've told him I can't take your position. It doesn't fit my style, and to be honest, the work is too tedious for me." I went into the cabinet without responding to Duroc. The First Consul approached me with a smile, grabbed my ear playfully, as he did when he was in a good mood, and said, "Still sulking?" He then led me to my usual seat and added, "Come on, sit down."







      Only those who knew Bonaparte can judge of my situation at that moment. He
      had at times, and when he chose, a charm in his manners which it was quite
      impossible to resist. I could offer no opposition, and I resumed my usual
      office and my accustomed labours. Five minutes afterwards it was announced
      that dinner was on table. "You will dine with me?" he said. "I cannot; I
      am expected at the place where I was going when Duroc called me back. It
      is an engagement that I cannot break."—"Well, I have nothing to say,
      then. But give me your word that you will be here at eight o'clock."—"I
      promise you." Thus I became again the private secretary of the First
      Consul, and I believed in the sincerity of our reconciliation.
    
Only those who knew Bonaparte can understand what I was going through at that moment. He had a charm in his manners at times, and when he wanted to, it was impossible to resist. I couldn't say no, so I went back to my usual tasks. Five minutes later, they announced that dinner was ready. "Will you join me for dinner?" he asked. "I can't; I have to be at the place I was heading to when Duroc called me back. It's a commitment I can't break." — "Well, I have nothing more to say then. But promise me you'll be here at eight o'clock." — "I promise you." So, I found myself once again as the private secretary to the First Consul, and I believed in the honesty of our reconciliation.








 


 




















      CHAPTER XIII.
    



      1802-1803.
    
1802-1803.


   The Concordat and the Legion of Honour—The Council of State and the
   Tribunate—Discussion on the word 'subjects'—Chenier—Chabot de
   l'Allier's proposition to the Tribunate—The marked proof of
   national gratitude—Bonaparte's duplicity and self-command—Reply to
   the 'Senatus-consulte'—The people consulted—Consular decree—
   The most, or the least—M. de Vanblanc's speech—Bonaparte's reply—
   The address of the Tribunate—Hopes and predictions thwarted.

   The Concordat and the Legion of Honour—the Council of State and the Tribunate—Discussion on the word 'subjects'—Chenier—Chabot de l'Allier's proposal to the Tribunate—The clear evidence of national gratitude—Bonaparte's deceit and self-control—Response to the 'Senatus-consulte'—The people consulted—Consular decree—The most, or the least—M. de Vanblanc's speech—Bonaparte's response—The address of the Tribunate—Hopes and predictions dashed.







      It may truly be said that history affords no example of an empire founded
      like that of France, created in all its parts under the cloak of a
      republic. Without any shock, and in the short space of four years, there
      arose above the ruins of the short-lived Republic a Government more
      absolute than ever was Louis XIV.'s. This extraordinary change is to be
      assigned to many causes; and I had the opportunity of observing the
      influence which the determined will of one man exercised over his
      fellow-men.
    
It can genuinely be said that history offers no example of an empire established like that of France, built entirely under the guise of a republic. Without any upheaval, and in just four years, a government emerged from the remnants of the brief Republic that was more absolute than anything Louis XIV ever had. This remarkable transformation can be attributed to several factors, and I had the chance to witness the impact that one man's strong will had on his fellow citizens.







      The great object which Bonaparte had at heart was to legitimate his
      usurpations by institutions. The Concordat had reconciled him with the
      Court of Rome; the numerous erasures from the emigrant list gathered round
      him a large body of the old nobility; and the Legion of Honour, though at
      first but badly received, soon became a general object of ambition. Peace,
      too, had lent her aid in consolidating the First Consul's power by
      affording him leisure to engage in measures of internal prosperity.
    
The main goal that Bonaparte was focused on was to make his takeovers legitimate through institutions. The Concordat had made him compatible with the Court of Rome; the many removals from the emigrant list attracted a large group of the old nobility to him; and the Legion of Honour, which was initially not well received, soon became a widespread aspiration. Peace, as well, helped strengthen the First Consul's power by giving him time to work on internal prosperity initiatives.







      The Council of State, of which Bonaparte had made me a member, but which
      my other occupations did not allow me to attend, was the soul of the
      Consular Government. Bonaparte felt much interest in the discussions of
      that body, because it was composed of the most eminent men in the
      different branches of administration; and though the majority evinced a
      ready compliance with his wishes, yet that disposition was often far from
      being unanimous. In the Council of State the projects of the Government
      were discussed from the first with freedom and sincerity, and when once
      adopted they were transmitted to the Tribunate, and to the Legislative
      Body. This latter body might be considered as a supreme Legislative
      Tribunal, before which the Tribunes pleaded as the advocates of the
      people, and the Councillors of State, whose business it was to support the
      law projects, as the advocates of the Government. This will at once
      explain the cause of the First Consul's animosity towards the Tribunate,
      and will show to what the Constitution was reduced when that body was
      dissolved by a sudden and arbitrary decision.
    
The Council of State, which Bonaparte appointed me to but I couldn't attend due to my other commitments, was the core of the Consular Government. Bonaparte was very interested in the discussions there because it included the most distinguished individuals from various branches of administration. Although most members readily went along with his wishes, that agreement was often not unanimous. In the Council of State, government projects were openly and honestly discussed from the start, and once approved, they were sent to the Tribunate and the Legislative Body. The Legislative Body acted as a supreme Legislative Tribunal, where the Tribunes represented the people, and the Councillors of State, whose job was to advocate for the law projects, represented the Government. This clearly explains the First Consul's hostility towards the Tribunate and illustrates what happened to the Constitution when that body was abruptly and arbitrarily dissolved.







      During the Consulate the Council of State was not only a body politic
      collectively, but each individual member might be invested with special
      power; as, for example, when the First Consul sent Councillors of State on
      missions to each of the military divisions where there was a Court of
      Appeal, the instructions given them by the First Consul were extensive,
      and might be said to be unlimited. They were directed to examine all the
      branches of the administration, so that their reports collected and
      compared together presented a perfect description of the state of France.
      But this measure, though excellent in itself, proved fatal to the State.
      The reports never conveyed the truth to the First Consul, or at least if
      they did, it was in such a disguised form as to be scarcely recognisable;
      for the Councillors well knew that the best way to pay their court to
      Bonaparte was not to describe public feeling as it really was, but as he
      wished it to be. Thus the reports of the councillors of State only
      furnished fresh arguments in favour of his ambition.
    
During the Consulate, the Council of State was not just a political body, but each member could have special authority. For instance, when the First Consul sent Councillors of State on missions to the military divisions with a Court of Appeal, the instructions from the First Consul were broad and nearly unlimited. They were tasked with examining all areas of the administration, so their collected and analyzed reports provided a complete picture of the state of France. However, this approach, though effective in theory, ended up being detrimental to the State. The reports rarely conveyed the truth to the First Consul, or if they did, it was so distorted that it was hardly recognizable; the Councillors understood that the best way to win over Bonaparte was not to accurately represent public sentiment, but to present it as he wanted it to be. Consequently, the reports from the Councillors of State only offered more reasons to support his ambitions.







      I must, however, observe that in the discussions of the Council of State
      Bonaparte was not at all averse to the free expression of opinion. He,
      indeed, often encouraged it; for although fully resolved to do only what
      he pleased, he wished to gain information; indeed, it is scarcely
      conceivable how, in the short space of two years, Bonaparte adapted his
      mind so completely to civil and legislative affairs. But he could not
      endure in the Tribunate the liberty of opinion which he tolerated in the
      Council; and for this reason—that the sittings of the Tribunate were
      public, while those of the Council of State were secret, and publicity was
      what he dreaded above all things. He was very well pleased when he had to
      transmit to the Legislative Body or to the Tribunate any proposed law of
      trifling importance, and he used then to say that he had thrown them a
      bone to gnaw.
    
I have to point out that during the discussions of the Council of State, Bonaparte was not opposed to people sharing their opinions freely. In fact, he often encouraged it; even though he was determined to do whatever he wanted, he wanted to gather information. It's hard to believe how, in just two years, Bonaparte completely adapted to civil and legislative matters. However, he couldn’t stand the freedom of opinion in the Tribunate that he allowed in the Council; the reason being that the Tribunate meetings were public, while the Council of State meetings were private, and he feared publicity above all else. He was quite pleased when he had to send any proposed laws of minor importance to the Legislative Body or the Tribunate, and he would say that he was just giving them something to chew on.







      Among the subjects submitted to the consideration of the Council and the
      Tribunate was one which gave rise to a singular discussion, the ground of
      which was a particular word, inserted in the third article of the treaty
      of Russia with France. This word seemed to convey a prophetic allusion to
      the future condition of the French people, or rather an anticipated
      designation of what they afterwards became. The treaty spoke of "the
      subjects of the two Governments." This term applied to those who still
      considered themselves citizens, and was highly offensive to the Tribunate.
      Chenier most loudly remonstrated against the introduction of this word
      into the dictionary of the new Government. He said that the armies of
      France had shed their blood that the French people might be citizens and
      not subjects. Chenier's arguments, however, had no effect on the decision
      of the Tribunate, and only served to irritate the First Consul. The treaty
      was adopted almost unanimously, there being only fourteen dissentient
      voices, and the proportion of black balls in the Legislative Body was even
      less.
    
Among the topics discussed by the Council and the Tribunate was one that sparked a unique debate, based on a specific word found in the third article of the treaty between Russia and France. This word seemed to suggest a prophetic reference to the future status of the French people, or rather a prediction of what they would eventually become. The treaty referred to "the subjects of the two Governments." This term applied to those who still considered themselves citizens and was very offensive to the Tribunate. Chenier strongly opposed the use of this word in the new Government's vocabulary. He argued that the armies of France had fought and shed their blood so that the French people could be citizens, not subjects. However, Chenier's arguments had no impact on the Tribunate's decision and only annoyed the First Consul. The treaty was approved almost unanimously, with only fourteen dissenting votes, and the number of objections in the Legislative Body was even lower.







      Though this discussion passed off almost unnoticed, yet it greatly
      displeased the First Consul, who expressed his dissatisfaction in the
      evening. "What is it," said he, "these babblers want? They wish to be
      citizens—why did they not know how to continue so? My government
      must treat on an equal footing with Russia. I should appear a mere puppet
      in the eyes of foreign Courts were I to yield to the stupid demands of the
      Tribunate.. Those fellows tease me so that I have a great mind to end
      matters at once with them." I endeavoured to soothe his anger, and
      observed, that one precipitate act might injure him. "You are right," he
      continued; "but stay a little, they shall lose nothing by waiting."
    
Although this discussion went mostly unnoticed, it really upset the First Consul, who showed his frustration that evening. "What do these chatterers want?" he said. "They want to be citizens—why didn’t they know how to keep being one? My government must engage as equals with Russia. I would look like a mere puppet in the eyes of foreign courts if I gave in to the foolish demands of the Tribunate. Those guys annoy me so much that I’m tempted to just deal with them permanently." I tried to calm him down and pointed out that one rash action could backfire on him. "You’re right," he replied; "but hold on a moment, they won’t lose anything by waiting."







      The Tribunate pleased Bonaparte better in the great question of the
      Consulate for life, because he had taken the precaution of removing such
      members as were most opposed to the encroachments of his ambition. The
      Tribunate resolved that a marked proof of the national gratitude should be
      offered to the First Consul, and the resolution was transmitted to the
      Senate. Not a single voice was raised against this proposition, which
      emanated from Chabot de l'Allier, the President of the Tribunate. When the
      First Consul came back to his cabinet after receiving the deputation of
      the Tribunate he was very cheerful, and said to me, "Bourrienne, it is a
      blank cheque that the Tribunate has just offered me; I shall know how to
      fill it up. That is my business."
    
The Tribunate suited Bonaparte well regarding the important issue of making the Consulate a lifelong position, as he had taken steps to remove the members who were most against his ambitions. The Tribunate decided that a clear sign of national gratitude should be presented to the First Consul, and this decision was sent to the Senate. Not a single voice opposed this proposal, which came from Chabot de l'Allier, the President of the Tribunate. When the First Consul returned to his office after meeting with the Tribunate delegation, he was very upbeat and said to me, "Bourrienne, this is like a blank check that the Tribunate has just given me; I’ll know how to fill it in. That’s my job."







      The Tribunate having adopted the indefinite proposition of offering to the
      First Consul a marked proof of the national gratitude, it now only
      remained to determine what that proof should be. Bonaparte knew well what
      he wanted, but he did not like to name it in any positive way. Though in
      his fits of impatience, caused by the lingering proceedings of the
      Legislative Body and the indecision of some of its members, he often
      talked of mounting on horseback and drawing his sword, yet he so far
      controlled himself as to confine violence to his conversations with his
      intimate friends. He wished it to be thought that he himself was yielding
      to compulsion; that he was far from wishing to usurp permanent power
      contrary to the Constitution; and that if he deprived France of liberty it
      was all for her good, and out of mere love for her. Such deep-laid
      duplicity could never have been conceived and maintained in any common
      mind; but Bonaparte's was not a mind of the ordinary cast. It must have
      required extraordinary self-command to have restrained so long as he did
      that daring spirit which was so natural to him, and which was rather the
      result of his temperament than his character. For my part, I confess that
      I always admired him more for what he had the fortitude not to do than for
      the boldest exploits he ever performed.
    
The Tribunate had decided to show the First Consul a clear sign of national gratitude, and now it was just a matter of figuring out what that sign should be. Bonaparte knew exactly what he wanted, but he was hesitant to state it outright. Even though he often expressed impatience due to the slow processes of the Legislative Body and the indecision of some members, talking about getting on horseback and drawing his sword, he managed to keep his violent tendencies in check, limiting them to private conversations with close friends. He wanted it to appear that he was being forced into decisions, that he didn't aspire to hold permanent power against the Constitution, and that if he took away France's freedom, it was solely for her benefit, driven by love for her. Such cunning deception could only come from an extraordinary mind; Bonaparte’s was definitely not ordinary. It must have taken incredible self-control to suppress his natural daring spirit for as long as he did, which was more a product of his temperament than his character. Personally, I have to admit that I always admired him more for what he had the strength to refrain from doing than for the boldest acts he ever accomplished.







      In conformity with the usual form, the proposition of the Tribunate was
      transmitted to the Senate. From that time the Senators on whom Bonaparte
      most relied were frequent in their visits to the Tuileries. In the
      preparatory conferences which preceded the regular discussions in the
      Senate it has been ascertained that the majority was not willing that the
      marked proof of gratitude should be the Consulate for life; it was
      therefore agreed that the reporter should limit his demand to a temporary
      prolongation of the dignity of First Consul in favour of Bonaparte. The
      reporter, M. de Lacepede, acted accordingly, and limited the prolongation
      to ten years, commencing from the expiration of the ten years granted by
      the Constitution. I forget which of the Senators first proposed the
      Consulate for life; but I well recollect that Cambacérès used all his
      endeavours to induce those members of the Senate whom he thought he could
      influence to agree to that proposition. Whether from flattery or
      conviction I know not, but the Second Consul held out to his colleague, or
      rather his master, the hope of complete success. Bonaparte on hearing him
      shook his head with an air of doubt, but afterwards said to me, "They will
      perhaps make some wry faces, but they must come to it at last!"
    
Following the usual process, the proposal from the Tribunate was sent to the Senate. From that moment on, the Senators whom Bonaparte relied on most frequently visited the Tuileries. In the preparatory meetings that took place before the official discussions in the Senate, it was determined that the majority did not want to show their gratitude by granting the Consulate for life; thus, it was agreed that the reporter would limit his request to a temporary extension of the title of First Consul in favor of Bonaparte. The reporter, M. de Lacepede, proceeded accordingly and specified the extension to ten years, starting from the end of the ten years given by the Constitution. I can’t recall which Senator first suggested the lifetime Consulate, but I clearly remember that Cambacérès did everything he could to persuade those members of the Senate he thought he could sway to support that idea. Whether it was out of flattery or genuine belief, I don't know, but the Second Consul gave his colleague, or rather his superior, the expectation of complete success. Upon hearing this, Bonaparte shook his head doubtfully but later said to me, “They might make some faces, but they’ll have to agree in the end!”







      It was proposed in the Senate that the proposition of the Consulate for
      life should take the priority of that of the decennial prolongation; but
      this was not agreed to; and the latter proposition being adopted, the
      other, of course, could not be discussed.
    
It was suggested in the Senate that the idea of a lifetime Consulate should take precedence over the ten-year extension; however, this was not accepted. Once the latter proposal was approved, the former could not, of course, be discussed.







      There was something very curious in the 'Senatus-consulte' published on
      the occasion. It spoke in the name of the French people, and stated that,
      "in testimony of their gratitude to the Consuls of the Republic," the
      Consular reign was prolonged for ten years; but that the prolongation was
      limited to the First Consul only.
    
There was something quite interesting in the 'Senatus-consulte' released for the occasion. It spoke on behalf of the French people and said that, "in appreciation for the Consuls of the Republic," the Consular reign was extended for ten years; however, this extension applied only to the First Consul.







      Bonaparte, though much dissatisfied with the decision of the Senate,
      disguised his displeasure in ambiguous language. When Tronchet, then
      President of the Senate, read to him, in a solemn audience, at the head of
      the deputation, the 'Senatus-consulte' determining the prorogation, he
      said in reply that he could not be certain of the confidence of the people
      unless his continuance in the Consulship were sanctioned by their
      suffrages. "The interests of my glory and happiness," added he, "would
      seem to have marked the close of my public life at the moment when the
      peace of the world is proclaimed. But the glory and the happiness of the
      citizen must yield to the interests of the State and wishes of the public.
      You, Senators, conceive that I owe to the people another sacrifice. I will
      make it if the voice of the people commands what your suffrage
      authorises."
    
Bonaparte, while quite unhappy with the Senate's decision, hid his frustration in vague terms. When Tronchet, the President of the Senate, read the 'Senatus-consulte' about the postponement during a formal meeting with the delegation, Bonaparte replied that he couldn't be sure of the people's trust unless his continuation in the Consulship was approved by their votes. "My own glory and happiness," he added, "seem to suggest that my public life should end just as peace is declared in the world. But the glory and happiness of a citizen must take a backseat to the needs of the State and the desires of the public. You, Senators, believe that I owe the people another sacrifice. I’ll make it if the people's voice demands what your vote allows."







      The true meaning of these words was not understood by everybody, and was
      only manifest to those who were initiated in the secret of Bonaparte's
      designs. He did not accept the offer of the Senate, because he wished for
      something more. The question was to be renewed and to be decided by the
      people only; and since the people had the right to refuse what the Senate
      offered, they possessed, for the same reason, the right to give what the
      Senate did not offer.
    
The true meaning of these words wasn’t understood by everyone and was only clear to those who were in the loop about Bonaparte's plans. He didn’t accept the Senate’s offer because he wanted something more. The question was to be brought up again and decided solely by the people; and since the people had the right to refuse what the Senate offered, they also had the right to give what the Senate didn’t offer.







      The moment now arrived for consulting the Council of State as to the mode
      to be adopted for invoking and collecting the suffrages of the people. For
      this purpose an extraordinary meeting of the Council of State was summoned
      on the 10th of May. Bonaparte wished to keep himself aloof from all
      ostensible influence; but his two colleagues laboured for him more
      zealously than he could have worked for himself, and they were warmly
      supported by several members of the Council. A strong majority were of
      opinion that Bonaparte should not only be invested with the Consulship for
      life, but that he should be empowered to nominate his successor. But he,
      still faithful to his plan, affected to venerate the sovereignty of the
      people, which he held in horror, and he promulgated the following decree,
      which was the first explanation of his reply to the Senate.
    
The time had come to consult the Council of State about how to gather and count the votes of the people. To this end, an extraordinary meeting of the Council of State was called on May 10th. Bonaparte wanted to distance himself from any obvious influence, but his two colleagues worked for him more energetically than he could have done for himself, and they received strong support from several Council members. A solid majority believed that Bonaparte should not only be given the Consulship for life but also have the power to choose his successor. However, he, still committed to his plan, pretended to respect the sovereignty of the people, which he actually feared, and he issued the following decree, which was the first clarification of his response to the Senate.






   The Consuls of the Republic, considering that the resolution of the
   First Consul is an homage rendered to the sovereignty of the People,
   and that the People, when consulted on their dearest interests, will
   not go beyond the limits of those interests, decree as follows:—
   First, that the French people shall be consulted on the question
   whether Napoleon Bonaparte is to be made Consul for life, etc.

   The Consuls of the Republic, acknowledging that the resolution made by the First Consul honors the sovereignty of the People, and that when asked about their most important interests, the People will stay within those boundaries, decree as follows:— First, that the French people will be consulted on whether Napoleon Bonaparte should be appointed Consul for life, etc.







      The other articles merely regulated the mode of collecting the votes.
    
The other articles just set the rules for how to collect the votes.







      This decree shows the policy of the First Consul in a new point of view,
      and displays his art in its fullest extent. He had just refused the less
      for the sake of getting the greater; and now he had contrived to get the
      offer of the greater to show off his moderation by accepting only the
      less. The Council of State sanctioned the proposition for conferring on
      the First Consul the right of nominating his successor, and, of his own
      accord, the First Consul declined this. Accordingly the Second Consul,
      when he, the next day, presented the decree to the Council of State, did
      not fail to eulogise this extreme moderation, which banished even the
      shadow of suspicion of any ambitious after-thought. Thus the Senate found
      itself out-manoeuvred, and the decree of the Consuls was transmitted at
      once to the Legislative Body and to the Tribunate.
    
This decree showcases the First Consul's policy from a new perspective and highlights his skill to the fullest. He had just turned down something lesser to obtain something greater; now, he had managed to receive an offer for the greater to demonstrate his moderation by accepting only the lesser. The Council of State approved the proposal to give the First Consul the right to nominate his successor, but he voluntarily turned this down. So, when the Second Consul presented the decree to the Council of State the next day, he didn't hesitate to praise this remarkable moderation, which eliminated even the hint of any ambitious ulterior motive. Thus, the Senate found itself outsmarted, and the decree from the Consuls was immediately sent on to the Legislative Body and the Tribunate.







      In the Legislative Body, M. de Vaublanc was distinguished among all the
      deputies who applauded the conduct of the Government; and it was he who
      delivered the apologetic harangue of the deputation of the Legislative
      Body to the First Consul. After having addressed the Government
      collectively he ended by addressing the First Consul individually—a
      sort of compliment which had not hitherto been put in practice, and which
      was far from displeasing him who was its object. As M. de Vaublanc's
      speech had been communicated beforehand to the First Consul, the latter
      prepared a reply to it which sufficiently showed how much it had gratified
      him. Besides the flattering distinction which separated him from the
      Government, the plenitude of praise was not tempered by anything like
      advice or comment. It was not so with the address of the Tribunate. After
      the compliments which the occasion demanded, a series of hopes were
      expressed for the future, which formed a curious contrast with the events
      which actually ensued. The Tribunate, said the address, required no
      guarantee, because Bonaparte's elevated and generous sentiments would
      never permit him to depart from those principles which brought about the
      Revolution and founded the Republic;—he loved real glory too well
      ever to stain that which he had acquired by the abuse of power;—the
      nation which he was called to govern was free and generous he would
      respect and consolidate her liberty; he would distinguish his real
      friends, who spoke truth to him, from flatterers who might seek to deceive
      him. In short, Bonaparte would surround himself with the men who, having
      made the Revolution, were interested in supporting it.
    
In the Legislative Body, M. de Vaublanc stood out among all the deputies who praised the Government's actions; he was the one who delivered the apologetic speech from the Legislative Body to the First Consul. After addressing the Government as a whole, he concluded by speaking directly to the First Consul—a kind of acknowledgment that hadn't been done before, and that was quite pleasing to the one it was directed at. Since M. de Vaublanc's speech had been shared with the First Consul beforehand, the latter prepared a response that clearly showed how much it pleased him. In addition to the flattering recognition that set him apart from the Government, the praise was not mixed with any kind of advice or criticism. The same could not be said for the address from the Tribunate. After the expected compliments, a range of hopes for the future were expressed, creating a striking contrast with what actually happened. The Tribunate stated that no guarantees were necessary because Bonaparte's noble and generous feelings would never lead him away from the principles that established the Revolution and founded the Republic; he valued true glory too much to tarnish what he had gained through the abuse of power; the nation he was meant to govern was free and generous, and he would honor and strengthen her freedom; he would recognize his true friends, who told him the truth, over flatterers who might try to deceive him. In short, Bonaparte would align himself with the men who, having made the Revolution, were committed to supporting it.







      To these and many other fine things the Consul replied, "This testimony of
      the affection of the Tribunate is gratifying to the Government. The union
      of all bodies of the State is a guarantee of the stability and happiness
      of the nation. The efforts of the Government will be constantly directed
      to the interests of the people, from whom all power is derived, and whose
      welfare all good men have at heart."
    
To these and many other great things, the Consul replied, "This expression of support from the Tribunate is encouraging to the Government. The unity of all parts of the State is a promise for the stability and well-being of the nation. The Government will always focus on serving the people, the source of all power, and whose well-being is a priority for all good people."







      So much for the artifice of governments and the credulity of subjects! It
      is certain that, from the moment Bonaparte gained his point in submitting
      the question of the Consulate for life to the decision of the people,
      there was no longer a doubt of the result being in his favour. This was
      evident, not only on account of the influential means which a government
      always has at its command, and of which its agents extend the
      ramifications from the centre to the extremities, but because the
      proposition was in accordance with the wishes of the majority. The
      Republicans were rather shy in avowing principles with which people were
      now disenchanted;—the partisans of a monarchy without distinction of
      family saw their hopes almost realised in the Consulate for life; the
      recollection of the Bourbons still lived in some hearts faithful to
      misfortune but the great mass were for the First Consul, and his external
      acts in the new step he had taken towards the throne had been so
      cautiously disguised as to induce a belief in his sincerity. If I and a
      few others were witness to his accomplished artifice and secret ambition,
      France beheld only his glory, and gratefully enjoyed the blessings of
      peace which he had obtained for her. The suffrages of the people speedily
      realised the hopes of the First Consul, and thus was founded the CONSULATE
      FOR LIFE.
    
So much for the tricks of governments and the gullibility of the people! It’s clear that once Bonaparte successfully pushed for the people to decide on the Consulate for life, it was obvious he would win. This was evident not just because the government always has powerful resources at its disposal, which reach from the center to the farthest corners, but also because the proposal aligned with what most people wanted. The Republicans were hesitant to openly support ideas that people were now disillusioned with; supporters of a monarchy without a specific royal family saw their dreams nearly realized with the Consulate for life. Some still held on to memories of the Bourbons, faithful to their misfortunes, but the vast majority backed the First Consul. His actions as he moved toward his throne were so carefully hidden that they made many believe in his honesty. While a few of us saw through his well-crafted deception and secret ambitions, France only saw his glory and happily accepted the peace he had secured for her. The people's votes quickly fulfilled the First Consul's ambitions, and thus, the CONSULATE FOR LIFE was established.








 


 




















      CHAPTER XIV
    



      1802-1803.
    
1802-1803.


   Departure for Malmaison—Unexpected question relative to the
   Bourbons—Distinction between two opposition parties—New intrigues
   of Lucien—Camille Jordan's pamphlet seized—Vituperation against
   the liberty of the press—Revisal of the Constitution—New
   'Senatus-consulte—Deputation from the Senate—Audience of the
   Diplomatic Body—Josephine's melancholy—The discontented—Secret
   meetings—Fouché and the police agents—The Code Napoleon—
   Bonaparte's regular attendance at the Council of State—His
   knowledge of mankind, and the science of government—Napoleon's
   first sovereign act—His visit to the Senate—The Consular
   procession—Polite etiquette—The Senate and the Council of State—
   Complaints against Lucien—The deaf and dumb assembly—Creation of
   senatorships.

   Departure for Malmaison—Unexpected question about the Bourbons—Distinction between two opposition parties—New intrigues from Lucien—Camille Jordan's pamphlet confiscated—Criticism of press freedom—Review of the Constitution—New 'Senatus-consulte'—Delegation from the Senate—Audience with the Diplomatic Body—Josephine's sadness—The dissatisfied—Secret meetings—Fouché and the police agents—The Code Napoleon—Bonaparte's regular attendance at the Council of State—His understanding of people and the art of governance—Napoleon's first sovereign act—His visit to the Senate—The Consular procession—Polite protocol—The Senate and the Council of State—Complaints against Lucien—The deaf and mute assembly—Creation of senator positions.







      When nothing was wanting to secure the Consulate for life but the votes of
      the people, which there was no doubt of obtaining, the First Consul set
      off to spend a few days at Malmaison.
    
When all that was needed to secure the Consulate for life were the votes of the people, which he was sure to get, the First Consul headed off to spend a few days at Malmaison.







      On the day of our arrival, as soon as dinner was ended, Bonaparte said to
      me, "Bourrienne, let us go and take a walk." It was the middle of May, so
      that the evenings were long. We went into the park: he was very grave, and
      we walked for several minutes without his uttering a syllable. Wishing to
      break silence in a way that would be agreeable to him, I alluded to the
      facility with which he had nullified the last 'Senatus-consulte'. He
      scarcely seemed to hear me, so completely was his mind absorbed in the
      subject on which he was meditating. At length, suddenly recovering from
      his abstraction, he said, "Bourrienne, do you think that the pretender to
      the crown of France would renounce his claims if I were to offer him a
      good indemnity, or even a province in Italy?" Surprised at this abrupt
      question on a subject which I was far from thinking of, I replied that I
      did not think the pretender would relinquish his claims; that it was very
      unlikely the Bourbons would return to France as long as he, Bonaparte,
      should continue at the head of the Government, though they would look
      forward to their ultimate return as probable. "How so?" inquired he. "For
      a very simple reason, General. Do you not see every day that your agents
      conceal the truth from you, and flatter you in your wishes, for the
      purpose of ingratiating themselves in your favour? are you not angry when
      at length the truth reaches your ear?"—"And what then?"—"why,
      General, it must be just the same with the agents of Louis XVIII. in
      France. It is in the course of things, in the nature of man, that they
      should feed the Bourbons with hopes of a possible return, were it only to
      induce a belief in their own talent and utility."—"That is very
      true! You are quite right; but I am not afraid. However, something might
      perhaps be done—we shall see." Here the subject dropped, and our
      conversation turned on the Consulate for life, and Bonaparte spoke in
      unusually mild terms of the persons who had opposed the proposition. I was
      a little surprised at this, and could not help reminding him of the
      different way in which he had spoken of those who opposed his accession to
      the Consulate. "There is nothing extraordinary in that," said he. "Worthy
      men may be attached to the Republic as I have made it. It is a mere
      question of form. I have nothing to say against that; but at the time of
      my accession to the Consulate it was very different. Then, none but
      Jacobins, terrorists, and rogues resisted my endeavours to rescue France
      from the infamy into which the Directory had plunged her. But now I
      cherish no ill-will against those who have opposed me."
    
On the day we arrived, as soon as dinner was over, Bonaparte said to me, "Bourrienne, let’s go for a walk." It was mid-May, so the evenings were long. We went into the park: he was very serious, and we walked for several minutes without him saying a word. Wanting to break the silence in a way he’d appreciate, I mentioned how easily he had nullified the last 'Senatus-consulte.' He hardly seemed to hear me, so completely was his mind focused on whatever he was thinking about. Finally, snapping back to reality, he asked, "Bourrienne, do you think the pretender to the crown of France would give up his claims if I offered him a good compensation or even a province in Italy?" Surprised by this sudden question on a topic I wasn’t thinking about, I replied that I didn’t think the pretender would give up his claims; it was unlikely the Bourbons would return to France as long as he, Bonaparte, was in charge of the Government, although they would still hope for their eventual return. "Why’s that?" he asked. "Because, General, you see every day that your agents hide the truth from you and flatter you to win your favor. Don't you get upset when the truth finally reaches you?"—"And so?"—"Well, General, it’s likely the same with the agents of Louis XVIII in France. It’s human nature for them to give the Bourbons hope of a possible return, if only to boost their own sense of importance and usefulness."—"That’s very true! You’re absolutely right; but I’m not worried. Still, maybe something could be done—we'll see." At that point, the topic changed, and our conversation shifted to the Consulate for life, with Bonaparte speaking unusually kindly about those who had opposed the proposal. I was a bit surprised by this and couldn’t help reminding him of how he had previously spoken about those who opposed his becoming Consul. "There’s nothing unusual about that," he said. "Good people may be loyal to the Republic as I’ve made it. It’s just a matter of perspective. I’m okay with that; but when I became Consul, things were very different. Back then, only Jacobins, terrorists, and scoundrels opposed my efforts to rescue France from the disgrace the Directory had cast her into. But now I hold no grudges against those who have opposed me."







      During the intervals between the acts of the different bodies of the
      State, and the collection of the votes, Lucien renewed his intrigues, or
      rather prosecuted them with renewed activity, for the purpose of getting
      the question of hereditary succession included in the votes. Many prefects
      transmitted to M. Chaptal anonymous circulars which had been sent to them:
      all stated the ill effect produced by these circulars, which had been
      addressed to the principal individuals of their departments. Lucien was
      the originator of all this, though I cannot positively say whether his
      brother connived with him, as in the case of the pamphlet to which I have
      already alluded. I believe, however, that Bonaparte was not entirely a
      stranger to the business; for the circulars were written by Raederer at
      the instigation of Lucien, and Raederer was at that time in favour at the
      Tuileries. I recollect Bonaparte speaking to me one day very angrily about
      a pamphlet which had just, been published by Camille Jordan on the subject
      of the national vote on the Consulate for life. Camille Jordan did not
      withhold his vote, but gave it in favour of the First Consul; and instead
      of requiring preliminary conditions, he contented himself, like the
      Tribunate, with enumerating all the guarantees which he expected the
      honour of the First Consul would grant. Among these guarantees were the
      cessation of arbitrary imprisonments, the responsibility of the agents of
      Government, and the independence of the judges. But all these demands were
      mere peccadilloes in comparison with Camille Jordan's great crime of
      demanding the liberty of the press.
    
During the breaks between the acts of the different branches of the State and while the votes were being collected, Lucien ramped up his efforts to make sure the issue of hereditary succession was included in the voting. Many prefects sent anonymous circulars to M. Chaptal that had been forwarded to them, all stating the negative impact these circulars had, which were directed at key individuals in their departments. Lucien was behind all of this, although I can't say for sure if his brother was in on it, as he was with the pamphlet I mentioned earlier. However, I believe Bonaparte was not completely unaware of what was going on; the circulars were written by Raederer at Lucien's instigation, and Raederer was in good standing at the Tuileries at that time. I remember Bonaparte angrily discussing a pamphlet published by Camille Jordan regarding the national vote on the Consulate for life. Camille Jordan did not hold back his vote and supported the First Consul; rather than demanding preliminary conditions, he simply listed all the guarantees he expected the First Consul to uphold. These guarantees included stopping arbitrary arrests, holding government agents accountable, and ensuring the independence of judges. But all these demands were minor compared to Camille Jordan's major offense of calling for freedom of the press.







      The First Consul had looked through the fatal pamphlet, and lavished
      invectives upon its author. "How!" exclaimed he, "am I never to have done
      with these fire brands?—These babblers, who think that politics may
      be shown on a printed page like the world on a map? Truly, I know not what
      things will come to if I let this go on. Camille Jordan, whom I received
      so well at Lyons, to think that he should—ask for the liberty of the
      press! Were I to accede to this I might as well pack up at once and go and
      live on a farm a hundred leagues from Paris." Bonaparte's first act in
      favour of the liberty of the press was to order the seizure of the
      pamphlet in which Camille Jordan had extolled the advantages of that
      measure. Publicity, either by words or writing, was Bonaparte's horror.
      Hence his aversion to public speakers and writers.
    
The First Consul had read through the damaging pamphlet and unleashed his anger on its author. "What!" he exclaimed, "am I never going to get rid of these troublemakers?—These people who think politics can be shown on paper like the world on a map? Honestly, I don't know what will happen if I let this continue. Camille Jordan, whom I welcomed so warmly in Lyons, to think he would—ask for freedom of the press! If I agreed to this, I might as well pack my bags and move to a farm a hundred leagues from Paris." Bonaparte's first action in support of press freedom was to order the confiscation of the pamphlet where Camille Jordan praised the benefits of such a measure. Publicity, whether through words or writing, was Bonaparte's nightmare. That's why he had such a strong dislike for public speakers and writers.







      Camille Jordan was not the only person who made unavailing efforts to
      arrest Bonaparte in the first steps of his ambition. There were yet in
      France many men who, though they had hailed with enthusiasm the dawn of
      the French Revolution, had subsequently been disgusted by its crimes, and
      who still dreamed of the possibility of founding a truly Constitutional
      Government in France. Even in the Senate there were some men indignant at
      the usual compliance of that body, and who spoke of the necessity of
      subjecting the Constitution to a revisal, in order to render it
      conformable to the Consulate for life.
    
Camille Jordan wasn't the only one who tried unsuccessfully to stop Bonaparte as he started to pursue his ambitions. There were still many people in France who, despite initially celebrating the start of the French Revolution, later felt disillusioned by its violence. They continued to dream of establishing a genuine Constitutional Government in France. Even among the Senators, there were individuals who were frustrated by the usual submissiveness of that group, discussing the need to revise the Constitution so that it aligned with the idea of a lifelong Consulate.







      The project of revising the Constitution was by no means unsatisfactory to
      Bonaparte. It afforded him an opportunity of holding out fresh glimmerings
      of liberty to those who were too shortsighted to see into the future. He
      was pretty certain that there could be no change but to his advantage. Had
      any one talked to him of the wishes of the nation he would have replied,
      "3,577,259 citizens have voted. Of these how many were for me? 3,368,185.
      Compare the difference! There is but one vote in forty-five against me. I
      must obey the will of the people!" To this he would not have failed to
      add, "Whose are the votes opposed to me? Those of ideologists, Jacobins,
      and peculators under the Directory." To such arguments what could have
      been answered? It must not be supposed that I am putting these words into
      Bonaparte's mouth. They fell from him oftener than once.
    
The project of revising the Constitution was definitely appealing to Bonaparte. It gave him a chance to offer new glimpses of freedom to those who were too blind to see the bigger picture. He was pretty sure that any change would benefit him. If anyone had talked to him about the people's wishes, he would have said, "3,577,259 citizens have voted. Out of those, how many supported me? 3,368,185. Look at the difference! There's only one vote in forty-five against me. I have to follow the will of the people!" He wouldn't have missed the chance to add, "Who are the votes against me? Those of ideologists, Jacobins, and crooks from the Directory." What could anyone say to that? It shouldn't be assumed that I'm putting these words into Bonaparte's mouth. He said this more than once.







      As soon as the state of the votes was ascertained the Senate conceived
      itself under the necessity of repairing the only fault it had committed in
      the eyes of the First Consul, and solemnly presented him with a new
      'Senatus-consulte', and a decree couched in the following terms:
    
As soon as the vote results were confirmed, the Senate felt it had to correct the only mistake it had made in the eyes of the First Consul and formally presented him with a new 'Senatus-consulte' and a decree worded as follows:







      ARTICLE I. The French people nominate and the Senate proclaim Napoleon
      Bonaparte Consul for life.
    
ARTICLE I. The French people nominate and the Senate declare Napoleon Bonaparte Consul for life.







      ARTICLE II. A statue representing Peace, holding in one hand the laurel of
      victory, and in the other the decree of the senate, shall commemorate to
      posterity the gratitude of the Nation.
    
ARTICLE II. A statue representing Peace, holding a laurel of victory in one hand and the decree of the senate in the other, will commemorate the Nation's gratitude for future generations.







      ARTICLE III. The Senate will convey to the First Consul the expression of
      the confidence, the love, and the admiration of the French people.
    
ARTICLE III. The Senate will convey to the First Consul the confidence, love, and admiration of the French people.







      Bonaparte replied to the deputation from the Senate, in the presence of
      the Diplomatic Body, whose audience had been appointed for that day in
      order that the ambassadors might be enabled to make known to their
      respective Courts that Europe reckoned one King more. In his reply he did
      not fail to introduce the high-sounding words "liberty and equality." He
      commenced thus: "A citizen's life belongs to his country. The French
      people wish that mine should be entirely devoted to their service. I
      obey."
    
Bonaparte answered the delegation from the Senate in front of the Diplomatic Body, whose meeting was set for that day so the ambassadors could inform their respective countries that Europe recognized one more King. In his response, he made sure to include the impressive phrases "liberty and equality." He started by saying: "A citizen's life belongs to his country. The French people want me to dedicate mine entirely to their service. I comply."







      On the day this ceremony took place, besides the audience of the
      Diplomatic Body there was an extraordinary assemblage of general officers
      and public functionaries. The principal apartments of the Tuileries's
      presented the appearance of a fete. This gaiety formed a striking contrast
      with the melancholy of Josephine, who felt that every step of the First
      Consul towards the throne removed him farther from her.
    
On the day of the ceremony, along with the audience of diplomats, there was an impressive gathering of top-ranking officers and public officials. The main rooms of the Tuileries looked festive. This cheerful atmosphere was a sharp contrast to Josephine's sadness, as she realized that with every step the First Consul took toward the throne, he moved further away from her.







      She had to receive a party that evening, and though greatly depressed in
      spirits she did the honours with her usual grace.
    
She had to host a party that evening, and although she was feeling really down, she managed to handle it with her usual charm.







      Let a Government be what it may, it can never satisfy everyone. At the
      establishment of the Consulate for life, those who were averse to that
      change formed but a feeble minority. But still they met, debated,
      corresponded, and dreamed of the possibility of overthrowing the Consular
      Government.
    
Let a government be whatever it is, it can never please everyone. When the Consulate for life was established, those who opposed that change were only a small minority. Still, they gathered, discussed, communicated, and imagined the possibility of overthrowing the Consular Government.







      During the first six months of the year 1802 there were meetings of the
      discontented, which Fouché, who was then Minister of the Police, knew and
      would not condescend to notice; but, on the contrary, all the inferior
      agents of the police contended for a prey which was easily seized, and,
      with the view of magnifying their services, represented these secret
      meetings as the effect of a vast plot against the Government. Bonaparte,
      whenever he spoke to me on the subject, expressed himself weary of the
      efforts which were made to give importance to trifles; and yet he received
      the reports of the police agents as if he thought them of consequence.
      This was because he thought Fouché badly informed, and he was glad to find
      him at fault; but when he sent for the Minister of Police the latter told
      him that all the reports he had received were not worth a moment's
      attention. He told the First Consul all, and even a great deal more than
      had been revealed to him, mentioning at the same time how and from whom
      Bonaparte had received his information.
    
During the first six months of 1802, there were gatherings of unhappy people that Fouché, who was then the Minister of Police, was aware of but chose to ignore. On the contrary, all the lower-ranking police agents were eager for an easy target and, in an attempt to enhance their own importance, portrayed these secret meetings as part of a large conspiracy against the Government. Whenever Bonaparte brought up the topic with me, he expressed his frustration with the efforts to blow small issues out of proportion; still, he accepted the reports from the police agents as if he believed they mattered. This was because he thought Fouché was misinformed and felt satisfied to see him making a mistake. However, when he called in the Minister of Police, Fouché told him that all the reports he had received were not worth paying attention to. He explained everything to the First Consul, and even shared much more than had been disclosed to him, noting how and from whom Bonaparte had gotten his information.







      But these petty police details did not divert the First Consul's attention
      from the great object he had in view. Since March 1802 he had attended the
      sittings of the Council of State with remarkable regularity. Even while we
      were at the Luxembourg he busied himself in drawing up a new code of laws
      to supersede the incomplete collection of revolutionary laws, and to
      substitute order for the sort of anarchy which prevailed in the
      legislation. The man who were most distinguished for legal knowledge had
      cooperated in this laborious task, the result of which was the code first
      distinguished by the name of the Civil Code, and afterwards called the
      Code Napoleon. The labours of this important undertaking being completed,
      a committee was appointed for the presentation of the code. This
      committee, of which Cambacérès was the president, was composed of MM.
      Portalis, Merlin de Douai, and Tronchet. During all the time the
      discussions were pending, instead of assembling as usual three times a
      week, the Council of State assembled every day, and the sittings, which on
      ordinary occasions only lasted two or three hours, were often prolonged to
      five or six. The First Consul took such interest in these discussions
      that, to have an opportunity of conversing upon them in the evening, he
      frequently invited several members of the Council to dine with him. It was
      during these conversations that I most admired the inconceivable
      versatility of Bonaparte's genius, or rather, that superior instinct which
      enabled him to comprehend at a glance, and in their proper point of view,
      legislative questions to which he might have been supposed a stranger.
      Possessing as he did, in a supreme degree, the knowledge of mankind, ideas
      important to the science of government flashed upon his mind like sudden
      inspirations.
    
But these minor police details didn’t distract the First Consul from his main objective. Since March 1802, he had been attending the Council of State meetings with impressive regularity. Even while at the Luxembourg, he worked on creating a new legal code to replace the incomplete collection of revolutionary laws and to bring order to the chaos that existed in the legislation. The most knowledgeable legal experts collaborated on this demanding project, which resulted in the code initially known as the Civil Code and later referred to as the Code Napoleon. Once this significant task was completed, a committee was formed to present the code. This committee, chaired by Cambacérès, included MM. Portalis, Merlin de Douai, and Tronchet. During the discussions, instead of meeting three times a week as usual, the Council of State convened every day, and the sessions that typically lasted two or three hours were often extended to five or six. The First Consul was so engaged in these discussions that he frequently invited several Council members to dinner to talk about them in the evenings. It was during these conversations that I was most impressed by Bonaparte's incredible adaptability, or rather, that natural instinct that allowed him to instantly grasp legislative issues he might have seemed unfamiliar with. With an extraordinary understanding of human nature, crucial ideas for governance seemed to strike him like sudden inspirations.







      Some time after his nomination to the Consulate for life, anxious to
      perform a sovereign act, he went for the first time to preside at the
      Senate. Availing myself that day of a few leisure moments I went out to
      see the Consular procession. It was truly royal. The First Consul had
      given orders that the military should-be ranged in the streets through
      which he had to pass. On his first arrival at the Tuileries, Napoleon had
      the soldiers of the Guard ranged in a single line in the interior of the
      court, but he now ordered that the line should be doubled, and should
      extend from the gate of the Tuileries to that of the Luxembourg. Assuming
      a privilege which old etiquette had confined exclusively to the Kings of
      France, Bonaparte now for the first time rode in a carriage drawn by eight
      horses. A considerable number of carriages followed that of the First
      Consul, which was surrounded by generals and aides de camp on horseback.
      Louis XIV. going to hold a bed of justice at the Parliament of Paris never
      displayed greater pomp than did Bonaparte in this visit to the Senate. He
      appeared in all the parade of royalty; and ten Senators came to meet him
      at the foot of the staircase of the Luxembourg.
    
Some time after his appointment as Consul for life, eager to take a decisive action, he went for the first time to lead the Senate. Taking advantage of a few free moments that day, I stepped out to watch the Consular procession. It was truly impressive. The First Consul had ordered the military to be lined up along the streets he would pass through. On his initial arrival at the Tuileries, Napoleon had the Guard soldiers arranged in a single line inside the courtyard, but now he commanded that the line be doubled and stretched from the gate of the Tuileries to the gate of the Luxembourg. Claiming a privilege that old etiquette reserved exclusively for the Kings of France, Bonaparte rode in a carriage drawn by eight horses for the first time. A significant number of carriages followed the First Consul's, which was flanked by generals and aides on horseback. Louis XIV, going to hold a bed of justice at the Parliament of Paris, never showed greater splendor than Bonaparte did on this visit to the Senate. He appeared in all the trappings of royalty, and ten Senators came to greet him at the foot of the staircase of the Luxembourg.







      The object of the First Consul's visit to the Senate was the presentation
      of five plans of 'Senatus-consultes'. The other two Consuls were present
      at the ceremony, which took place about the middle of August.
    
The purpose of the First Consul's visit to the Senate was to present five plans of 'Senatus-consultes'. The other two Consuls were there for the ceremony, which happened around the middle of August.







      Bonaparte returned in the same style in which he went, accompanied by M.
      Lebrun, Cambacérès remaining at the Senate, of which he was President. The
      five 'Senatus-consultes' were adopted, but a restriction was made in that
      which concerned the forms of the Senate. It was proposed that when the
      Consuls visited the Senate they should be received by a deputation of ten
      members at the foot of the staircase, as the First Consul had that day
      been received; but Bonaparte's brothers Joseph and Lucien opposed this,
      and prevented the proposition from being adopted, observing that the
      Second and Third Consuls being members of the Senate could not be received
      with such honours by their colleagues. This little scene of political
      courtesy, which was got up beforehand, was very well acted.
    
Bonaparte returned in the same manner he left, joined by M. Lebrun, while Cambacérès stayed at the Senate, where he was President. The five 'Senatus-consultes' were approved, but there was a limitation regarding the Senate's procedures. It was suggested that when the Consuls visited the Senate, they should be greeted by a delegation of ten members at the bottom of the staircase, just as the First Consul had been that day. However, Bonaparte's brothers Joseph and Lucien disagreed, arguing that the Second and Third Consuls, being members of the Senate, shouldn't be received with such formal honors by their peers. This little political courtesy scene, which was planned in advance, was performed very convincingly.







      Bonaparte's visit to the Senate gave rise to a change of rank in the
      hierarchy of the different authorities composing the Government. Hitherto
      the Council of State had ranked higher in public opinion; but the Senate,
      on the occasion of its late deputation to the Tuileries, had for the first
      time, received the honour of precedency. This had greatly displeased some
      of the Councillors of State, but Bonaparte did not care for that. He
      instinctively saw that the Senate would do what he wished more readily
      than the other constituted bodies, and he determined to augment its rights
      and prerogatives even at the expense of the rights of the Legislative
      Body. These encroachments of one power upon another, authorised by the
      First Consul, gave rise to reports of changes in ministerial arrangements.
      It was rumoured in Paris that the number of the ministers was to be
      reduced to three, and that Lucien, Joseph, and M. de Talleyrand were to
      divide among them the different portfolios. Lucien helped to circulate
      these reports, and this increased the First Consul's dissatisfaction at
      his conduct. The letters from Madrid, which were filled with complaints
      against him, together with some scandalous adventures, known in Paris,
      such as his running away with the wife of a 'limonadier', exceedingly
      annoyed Bonaparte, who found his own family more difficult to govern than
      France.
    
Bonaparte's visit to the Senate led to a shift in the status of the various authorities within the government. Until then, the Council of State was held in higher regard by the public, but during the Senate's recent delegation to the Tuileries, it was honored with precedence for the first time. This upset several Councillors of State, but Bonaparte paid no attention to their complaints. He instinctively recognized that the Senate would comply with his wishes more readily than the other established bodies, so he decided to increase its rights and privileges, even if it meant diminishing the authority of the Legislative Body. These power struggles endorsed by the First Consul sparked discussions about changes in government structure. There were rumors in Paris that the number of ministers would be cut down to three, with Lucien, Joseph, and M. de Talleyrand splitting up the various responsibilities. Lucien contributed to spreading these rumors, which only fueled the First Consul's frustration with his actions. Letters from Madrid, filled with complaints about him, along with some scandalous stories circulating in Paris, like his elopement with the wife of a 'limonadier', deeply irritated Bonaparte, who found his own family harder to manage than France.







      France, indeed, yielded with admirable facility to the yoke which, the
      First Consul wished to impose on her. How artfully did he undo all that
      the Revolution had done, never neglecting any means of attaining his
      object! He loved to compare the opinions of those whom he called the
      Jacobins with the opinions of the men of 1789; and even them he found too
      liberal. He felt the ridicule which was attached to the mute character of
      the Legislative Body, which he called his deaf and dumb assembly. But as
      that ridicule was favourable to him he took care to preserve the assembly
      as it was, and to turn it into ridicule whenever he spoke of it. In
      general, Bonaparte's judgment must not be confounded with his actions. His
      accurate mind enabled him to appreciate all that was good; but the
      necessity of his situation enabled him to judge with equal shrewdness what
      was useful to himself.
    
France easily submitted to the control that the First Consul wanted to impose on her. He skillfully reversed all that the Revolution had achieved, never missing an opportunity to reach his goals! He liked to compare the views of those he called Jacobins with the views of people from 1789; even then, he found them too liberal. He recognized the ridicule associated with the silent nature of the Legislative Body, which he referred to as his deaf and dumb assembly. However, since that ridicule worked to his advantage, he ensured the assembly remained as it was and mocked it whenever he spoke about it. In general, Bonaparte's judgment shouldn't be confused with his actions. His sharp mind allowed him to recognize what was good, but the demands of his position also made him adept at understanding what was beneficial for himself.







      What I have just said of the Senate affords me an opportunity of
      correcting an error which has frequently been circulated in the chit-chat
      of Paris. It has erroneously been said of some persons that they refused
      to become members of the Senate, and among the number have been mentioned
      M. Ducis, M. de La Fayette, and the Marechal de Rochambeau. The truth is,
      that no such refusals were ever made. The following fact, however, may
      have contributed to raise these reports and give them credibility.
      Bonaparte used frequently to say to persons in his salon and in his
      cabinet; "You should be a Senator—a man like you should be a
      Senator." But these complimentary words did not amount to a nomination. To
      enter the Senate certain legal forms were to be observed. It was necessary
      to be presented by the Senate, and after that presentation no one ever
      refused to become a member of the body, to which Bonaparte gave additional
      importance by the creation of "Senatoreries."—[Districts presided
      over by a Senator.]—This creation took place in the beginning of
      1803.
    
What I just said about the Senate gives me a chance to correct a mistake that's been going around in the gossip of Paris. It's been wrongly claimed that certain individuals, including M. Ducis, M. de La Fayette, and Marechal de Rochambeau, turned down the opportunity to join the Senate. The truth is, no one ever actually refused. However, there is a fact that may have fueled these rumors and made them believable. Bonaparte often told people in his salon and cabinet, "You should be a Senator—a person like you should be a Senator." But these flattering comments didn't mean they were officially nominated. There were specific legal procedures that needed to be followed to join the Senate. You had to be presented by the Senate, and once that happened, no one ever declined to become a member of the body, which Bonaparte made even more significant by creating "Senatoreries."—[Districts presided over by a Senator.]—This creation happened in early 1803.








 


 




















      CHAPTER XV
    



      1802.
    
1802.


   The intoxication of great men—Unlucky zeal—MM. Maret, Champagny,
   and Savary—M. de Talleyrand's real services—Postponement of the
   execution of orders—Fouché and the Revolution—The Royalist
   committee—The charter first planned during the Consulate—Mission
   to Coblentz—Influence of the Royalists upon Josephine—The statue
   and the pedestal—Madame de Genlis' romance of Madame de la
   Valliere—The Legion of Honour and the carnations—Influence of the
   Faubourg St. Germain—Inconsiderate step taken by Bonaparte—Louis
   XVIII's indignation—Prudent advice of the Abbe Andre—Letter from
   Louis XVIII. to Bonaparte—Council held at Neuilly—The letter
   delivered—Indifference of Bonaparte, and satisfaction of the
   Royalists.

   The intoxication of great men—Unlucky zeal—M. Maret, Champagny, and Savary—M. de Talleyrand's true contributions—Delay in carrying out orders—Fouché and the Revolution—The Royalist committee—The charter first drafted during the Consulate—Mission to Coblentz—The influence of the Royalists on Josephine—The statue and the pedestal—Madame de Genlis' novel about Madame de la Valliere—The Legion of Honor and the carnations—Influence of the Faubourg St. Germain—Unwise move by Bonaparte—Louis XVIII's anger—Wise counsel from the Abbe Andre—Letter from Louis XVIII. to Bonaparte—Council held at Neuilly—The letter delivered—Bonaparte's indifference and the Royalists' satisfaction.







      Perhaps one of the happiest ideas that ever were expressed was that of the
      Athenian who said, "I appeal from Philip drunk to Philip sober." The
      drunkenness here alluded to is not of that kind which degrades a man to
      the level of a brute, but that intoxication which is occasioned by
      success, and which produces in the heads of the ambitious a sort of
      cerebral congestion. Ordinary men are not subject to this excitement, and
      can scarcely form an idea of it. But it is nevertheless true that the
      fumes of glory and ambition occasionally derange the strongest heads; and
      Bonaparte, in all the vigour of his genius, was often subject to
      aberrations of judgment; for though his imagination never failed him, his
      judgment was frequently at fault.
    
One of the happiest ideas ever expressed was by the Athenian who said, "I appeal from Philip drunk to Philip sober." The drunkenness being referenced here isn't the kind that reduces a person to the level of a brute, but rather the intoxication that comes from success, which creates a kind of mental overload in the heads of the ambitious. Regular people don't experience this thrill and can hardly grasp it. However, it's true that the excitement of glory and ambition can sometimes cloud even the sharpest minds; Bonaparte, despite his brilliant genius, often had moments of poor judgment. While his imagination never let him down, his judgment frequently did.







      This fact may serve to explain, and perhaps even to excuse the faults with
      which the First Consul has been most seriously reproached. The activity of
      his mind seldom admitted of an interval between the conception and the
      execution of a design; but when he reflected coolly on the first impulses
      of his imperious will, his judgment discarded what was erroneous. Thus the
      blind obedience, which, like an epidemic disease, infected almost all who
      surrounded Bonaparte, was productive of the most fatal effects. The best
      way to serve the First Consul was never to listen to the suggestions of
      his first ideas, except on the field of battle, where his conceptions were
      as happy as they were rapid. Thus, for example, MM. Maret, de Champagny,
      and Savary evinced a ready obedience to Bonaparte's wishes, which often
      proved very unfortunate, though doubtless dictated by the best intentions
      on their part. To this fatal zeal may be attributed a great portion of the
      mischief which Bonaparte committed. When the mischief was done, and past
      remedy, Bonaparte deeply regretted it. How often have I heard him say that
      Maret was animated by an unlucky zeal! This was the expression he made use
      of.
    
This fact might help explain and perhaps even justify some of the serious criticisms directed at the First Consul. His mind was so active that there was rarely a break between coming up with an idea and acting on it; however, when he took a moment to reflect on the initial impulses of his strong will, his judgment often dismissed what was wrong. Consequently, the blind obedience that spread like an epidemic among almost all those around Bonaparte led to the most disastrous outcomes. The best way to assist the First Consul was to ignore his initial ideas, except on the battlefield, where his insights were as brilliant as they were quick. For instance, Maret, de Champagny, and Savary showed quick obedience to Bonaparte's wishes, which often turned out to be very unfortunate, although it was surely motivated by their best intentions. This unfortunate enthusiasm can be blamed for much of the trouble Bonaparte caused. Once the damage was done and irreversible, Bonaparte regretted it deeply. How often I heard him say that Maret was driven by an unfortunate zeal! That was the phrase he used.







      M. de Talleyrand was almost the only one among the ministers who did not
      flatter Bonaparte, and who really served both the First Consul and the
      Emperor. When Bonaparte said to M. de Talleyrand, "Write so and so, and
      send it off by a special courier," that minister was never in a hurry to
      obey the order, because he knew the character of the First Consul well
      enough to distinguish between what his passion dictated and what his
      reason would approve: in short, he appealed from Philip drunk to Philip
      sober. When it happened that M. de Talleyrand suspended the execution of
      an order, Bonaparte never evinced the least displeasure. When, the day
      after he had received any hasty and angry order, M. de Talleyrand
      presented himself to the First Consul, the latter would say, "Well, did
      you send off the courier?"—"No," the minister would reply, "I took
      care not to do so before I showed you my letter." Then the First Consul
      would usually add, "Upon second thoughts I think it would be best not to
      send it." This was the way to deal with Bonaparte. When M. de Talleyrand
      postponed sending off despatches, or when I myself have delayed the
      execution of an order which I knew had been dictated by anger, and had
      emanated neither from his heart nor his understanding, I have heard him
      say a hundred times, "It was right, quite right. You understand me:
      Talleyrand understands me also. This is the way to serve me: the others do
      not leave me time for reflection: they are too precipitate." Fouché also
      was one of those who did not on all occasions blindly obey Bonaparte's
      commands. His other ministers, on the other hand, when told to send off a
      courier the next morning, would have more probably sent him off the same
      evening. This was from zeal, but was not the First Consul right in saying
      that such zeal was unfortunate?
    
M. de Talleyrand was almost the only minister who didn't flatter Bonaparte and genuinely served both the First Consul and the Emperor. When Bonaparte told M. de Talleyrand, "Write this and send it off by a special courier," the minister never rushed to comply because he understood the First Consul's nature well enough to differentiate between what his passions called for and what his logic would support: in short, he appealed from Philip drunk to Philip sober. When M. de Talleyrand delayed carrying out an order, Bonaparte never showed the slightest displeasure. The day after receiving any hasty and angry order, when M. de Talleyrand came to see the First Consul, the latter would ask, "Well, did you send the courier?"—"No," the minister would reply, "I made sure not to do that before I showed you my letter." Then the First Consul would typically add, "Upon second thoughts, I think it would be best not to send it." This was the right approach to handle Bonaparte. When M. de Talleyrand postponed sending dispatches, or when I myself delayed executing an order I knew had been given out of anger and didn't come from his heart or mind, I heard him say a hundred times, "That was the right call, absolutely right. You understand me: Talleyrand understands me too. This is how to serve me: the others don’t give me time to think things over; they act too swiftly." Fouché was also one who didn't always blindly obey Bonaparte's orders. In contrast, his other ministers, when told to send a courier the next morning, would have likely sent him off that same evening. This was out of enthusiasm, but wasn't the First Consul right in saying that such eagerness was unfortunate?







      Of Talleyrand and Fouché, in their connections with the First Consul, it
      might be said that the one represented the Constituent Assembly, with a
      slight perfume of the old regime, and the other the Convention in all its
      brutality. Bonaparte regarded Fouché as a complete personification of the
      Revolution. With him, therefore, Fouché's influence was merely the
      influence of the Revolution. That great event was one of those which had
      made the most forcible impression on Bonaparte's ardent mind, and he
      imagined he still beheld it in a visible form as long as Fouché continued
      at the head of his police. I am now of opinion that Bonaparte was in some
      degree misled as to the value of Fouché's services as a minister. No doubt
      the circumstance of Fouché being in office conciliated those of the
      Revolutionary party who were his friends. But Fouché cherished an undue
      partiality for them, because he knew that it was through them he held his
      place. He was like one of the old Condottieri, who were made friends of
      lest they should become enemies, and who owed all their power to the
      soldiers enrolled under their banners.
    
Regarding Talleyrand and Fouché's relationships with the First Consul, one could say that Talleyrand represented the Constituent Assembly, with a hint of the old regime, while Fouché embodied the Convention in all its harshness. Bonaparte saw Fouché as the complete embodiment of the Revolution. Therefore, Fouché's influence was simply the influence of the Revolution itself. This major event had made a deep impression on Bonaparte's passionate mind, and he believed he could still see it as long as Fouché was in charge of the police. I now think Bonaparte was somewhat misled about the true value of Fouché's role as a minister. Certainly, Fouché's position helped win over those in the Revolutionary party who were his allies. However, Fouché had an excessive favoritism towards them, knowing that his job depended on their support. He was like one of the old Condottieri, who were kept as friends to avoid becoming enemies, relying entirely on the soldiers under their command.







      Such was Fouché, and Bonaparte perfectly understood his situation. He kept
      the chief in his service until he could find an opportunity of disbanding
      his undisciplined followers. But there was one circumstance which
      confirmed his reliance on Fouché. He who had voted the death of the King
      of France, and had influenced the minds of those who had voted with him,
      offered Bonaparte the best guarantee against the attempts of the Royalists
      for raising up in favour of the Bourbons the throne which the First Consul
      himself had determined to ascend. Thus, for different reasons, Bonaparte
      and Fouché had common interests against the House of Bourbon, and the
      master's ambition derived encouragement from the supposed terror of the
      servant.
    
Fouché was like this, and Bonaparte fully understood his position. He kept Fouché around until he could find a chance to break up his unruly followers. However, there was one factor that reinforced his trust in Fouché. The man who had voted for the execution of the King of France and swayed others to vote with him provided Bonaparte with the best assurance against any Royalist attempts to restore the Bourbons to the throne that the First Consul himself aimed to claim. Therefore, for different reasons, both Bonaparte and Fouché shared common interests against the House of Bourbon, and Bonaparte’s ambition was bolstered by the fear that Fouché supposedly inspired.







      The First Consul was aware of the existence in Paris of a Royalist
      committee, formed for the purpose of corresponding with Louis XVIII. This
      committee consisted of men who must not be confounded with those wretched
      intriguers who were of no service to their employers, and were not
      unfrequently in the pay of both Bonaparte and the Bourbons. The Royalist
      committee, properly so called, was a very different thing. It consisted of
      men professing rational principles of liberty, such as the Marquis de
      Clermont Gallerande, the Abbe de Montesqieu, M. Becquet, and M. Royer
      Collard. This committee had been of long standing; the respectable
      individuals whose names I have just quoted acted upon a system hostile to
      the despotism of Bonaparte, and favourable to what they conceived to be
      the interests of France. Knowing the superior wisdom of Louis XVIII., and
      the opinions which he had avowed and maintained in the Assembly of the
      Notables, they wished to separate that Prince from the emigrants, and to
      point him out to the nation as a suitable head of a reasonable
      Constitutional Government. Bonaparte, whom I have often heard speak on the
      subject, dreaded nothing so much as these ideas of liberty, in conjunction
      with a monarchy. He regarded them as reveries, called the members of the
      committee idle dreamers, but nevertheless feared the triumph of their
      ideas. He confessed to me that it was to counteract the possible influence
      of the Royalist committee that he showed himself so indulgent to those of
      the emigrants whose monarchical prejudices he knew were incompatible with
      liberal opinions. By the presence of emigrants who acknowledged nothing
      short of absolute power, he thought he might paralyse the influence of the
      Royalists of the interior; he therefore granted all such emigrants
      permission to return.
    
The First Consul was aware that a Royalist committee existed in Paris, formed to communicate with Louis XVIII. This committee was made up of individuals who shouldn't be confused with those useless schemers who did nothing for their employers and often took money from both Bonaparte and the Bourbons. The Royalist committee, in the true sense, was quite different. It included men who advocated for rational ideas of liberty, such as the Marquis de Clermont Gallerande, the Abbe de Montesquieu, M. Becquet, and M. Royer Collard. This committee had been around for a long time; the respected individuals whose names I've mentioned were against Bonaparte's tyranny and supported what they believed to be in France's best interest. Recognizing the wisdom of Louis XVIII and the views he had expressed in the Assembly of the Notables, they aimed to distance that Prince from the emigrants and present him to the nation as a suitable leader for a reasonable Constitutional Government. Bonaparte, whom I've often heard speak about it, feared nothing more than the combination of these ideas of liberty with a monarchy. He dismissed them as fantasies, labeling the committee members as idle dreamers, but still feared the success of their ideas. He confessed to me that he was so lenient with the emigrants, whose monarchical beliefs he knew clashed with liberal views, to counteract the potential influence of the Royalist committee. He thought that by allowing emigrants who accepted nothing less than absolute power to return, he could weaken the power of the Royalists within the country.







      About this time I recollect having read a document, which had been signed,
      purporting to be a declaration of the principles of Louis XVIII. It was
      signed by M. d'Andre, who bore evidence to its authenticity. The
      principles contained in the declaration were in almost all points
      conformable to the principles which formed the basis of the charter. Even
      so early as 1792, and consequently previous to the fatal 21st of January,
      Louis XVI., who knew the opinions of M. de Clermont Gallerande, sent him
      on a mission to Coblentz to inform the Princes from him, and the Queen,
      that they would be ruined by their emigration. I am accurately informed,
      and I state this fact with the utmost confidence. I can also add with
      equal certainty that the circumstance was mentioned by M. de Clermont
      Gallerande in his Memoirs, and that the passage relative to his mission to
      Coblentz was cancelled before the manuscript was sent to press.
    
Around this time, I remember reading a signed document that claimed to be a declaration of the principles of Louis XVIII. It was signed by M. d'Andre, who confirmed its authenticity. The principles in the declaration mostly aligned with the ones that formed the foundation of the charter. Even back in 1792, before the tragic 21st of January, Louis XVI, aware of M. de Clermont Gallerande's views, sent him on a mission to Coblentz to inform the Princes and the Queen that their emigration would lead to their downfall. I have reliable information about this and assert it with complete confidence. I can also say with equal certainty that M. de Clermont Gallerande mentioned this situation in his Memoirs, and that the section regarding his mission to Coblentz was removed before the manuscript was published.







      During the Consular Government the object of the Royalist committee was to
      seduce rather than to conspire. It was round Madame Bonaparte in
      particular that their batteries were raised, and they did not prove
      ineffectual. The female friends of Josephine filled her mind with ideas of
      the splendour and distinction she would enjoy if the powerful hand which
      had chained the Revolution should raise up the subverted throne. I must
      confess that I was myself, unconsciously, an accomplice of the friends of
      the throne; for what they wished for the interest of the Bourbons I then
      ardently wished for the interest of Bonaparte.
    
During the Consular Government, the Royalist committee aimed to persuade rather than plot. Their efforts were particularly focused on Madame Bonaparte, and they were somewhat successful. Josephine's female friends filled her head with thoughts of the glory and status she would have if the strong hand that had subdued the Revolution were to restore the fallen monarchy. I must admit that I, without realizing it, was an unintentional ally of those who supported the throne; for what they desired for the benefit of the Bourbons, I then fervently desired for the benefit of Bonaparte.







      While endeavours were thus made to gain over Madame Bonaparte to the
      interest of the royal family, brilliant offers were held out for the
      purpose of dazzling the First Consul. It was wished to retemper for him
      the sword of the constable Duguesclin; and it was hoped that a statue
      erected to his honour would at once attest to posterity his spotless glory
      and the gratitude of the Bourbons. But when these offers reached the ears
      of Bonaparte he treated them with indifference, and placed no faith in
      their sincerity. Conversing on the subject one day with M. de La Fayette
      he said, "They offer me a statue, but I must look to the pedestal. They
      may make it my prison." I did not hear Bonaparte utter these words; but
      they were reported to me from a source, the authenticity of which may be
      relied on.
    
While efforts were being made to win over Madame Bonaparte to support the royal family, tempting offers were presented to impress the First Consul. There were plans to remake the sword of the constable Duguesclin for him, and it was hoped that a statue in his honor would showcase his unblemished legacy and the gratitude of the Bourbons for future generations. However, when these offers reached Bonaparte, he dismissed them with indifference and doubted their sincerity. During a conversation about it with M. de La Fayette, he remarked, "They offer me a statue, but I have to watch the pedestal. It could become my prison." I didn't hear Bonaparte say this myself, but I received the information from a reliable source.







      About this time, when so much was said in the Royalist circles and in the
      Faubourg St. Germain, of which the Hotel de Luynes was the headquarters,
      about the possible return of the Bourbons, the publication of a popular
      book contributed not a little to direct the attention of the public to the
      most brilliant period of the reign of Louis XIV. The book was the
      historical romance of Madame de la Valloire, by Madame de Genlis, who had
      recently returned to France. Bonaparte read it, and I have since
      understood that he was very well pleased with it, but he said nothing to
      me about it. It was not until some time after that he complained of the
      effect which was produced in Paris by this publication, and especially by
      engravings representing scenes in the life of Louis XIV., and which were
      exhibited in the shop-windows. The police received orders to suppress
      these prints; and the order was implicitly obeyed; but it was not Fouché's
      police. Fouché saw the absurdity of interfering with trifles. I recollect
      that immediately after the creation of the Legion of Honour, it being
      summer, the young men of Paris indulged in the whim of wearing a carnation
      in a button-hole, which at a distance had rather a deceptive effect.
      Bonaparte took this very seriously. He sent for Fouché, and desired him to
      arrest those who presumed thus to turn the new order into ridicule. Fouché
      merely replied that he would wait till the autumn; and the First Consul
      understood that trifles were often rendered matters of importance by being
      honoured with too much attention.
    
Around this time, when there was a lot of talk in Royalist circles and in the Faubourg St. Germain, where the Hotel de Luynes was the main hub, about the possible return of the Bourbons, a popular book came out that caught the public's attention and highlighted the most dazzling period of Louis XIV's reign. The book was the historical romance by Madame de la Valloire, written by Madame de Genlis, who had recently returned to France. Bonaparte read it and I later learned that he was quite pleased with it, but he didn't mention it to me at the time. It was only after a while that he complained about the impact this publication had in Paris, particularly the engravings depicting scenes from Louis XIV's life, which were displayed in shop windows. The police were ordered to take down these prints, and they followed the order without question; however, it wasn’t Fouché's police doing this. Fouché recognized the ridiculousness of cracking down on such trivial matters. I remember right after the creation of the Legion of Honour, during summer, the young men of Paris decided it would be fun to wear a carnation in their buttonholes, which looked somewhat misleading from a distance. Bonaparte took this very seriously. He called Fouché and instructed him to arrest anyone who dared to mock the new order in this way. Fouché simply replied that he would wait until autumn, and the First Consul realized that small matters often became too significant when given too much attention.







      But though Bonaparte was piqued at the interest excited by the engravings
      of Madame de Genlis' romance he manifested no displeasure against that
      celebrated woman, who had been recommended to him by MM. de Fontanes and
      Fievee and who addressed several letters to him. As this sort of
      correspondence did not come within the routine of my business I did not
      see the letters; but I heard from Madame Bonaparte that they contained a
      prodigious number of proper names, and I have reason to believe that they
      contributed not a little to magnify, in the eyes of the First Consul, the
      importance of the Faubourg St. Germain, which, in spite of all his
      courage, was a scarecrow to him.
    
But even though Bonaparte was annoyed by the excitement generated by the engravings of Madame de Genlis' novel, he didn’t show any displeasure towards that famous woman, who had been recommended to him by MM. de Fontanes and Fievee and who wrote several letters to him. Since this type of correspondence wasn’t part of my job, I didn’t see the letters; however, I heard from Madame Bonaparte that they contained a huge number of proper names, and I have reason to believe that they helped to inflate the importance of the Faubourg St. Germain in the eyes of the First Consul, which, despite all his bravery, still intimidated him.







      Bonaparte regarded the Faubourg St. Germain as representing the whole mass
      of Royalist opinion; and he saw clearly that the numerous erasures from
      the emigrant list had necessarily increased dissatisfaction among the
      Royalists, since the property of the emigrants had not been restored to
      its old possessors, even in those cases in which it had not been sold. It
      was the fashion in a certain class to ridicule the unpolished manners of
      the great men of the Republic compared with the manners of the nobility of
      the old Court. The wives of certain generals had several times committed
      themselves by their awkwardness. In many circles there was an affectation
      of treating with contempt what are called the parvenus; those people who,
      to use M. de Talleyrand's expression, do not know how to walk upon a
      carpet. All this gave rise to complaints against the Faubourg St. Germain;
      while, on the other hand, Bonaparte's brothers spared no endeavours to
      irritate him against everything that was calculated to revive the
      recollection of the Bourbons.
    
Bonaparte viewed the Faubourg St. Germain as a symbol of the entire Royalist viewpoint; he understood that the many removals from the emigrant list had inevitably boosted frustration among the Royalists, since the property of the emigrants hadn’t been returned to its original owners, even in cases where it hadn’t been sold. It became trendy in certain social circles to mock the unrefined behavior of the Republic's leaders compared to the refined manners of the old Court’s nobility. The wives of some generals had often embarrassed themselves with their clumsiness. In many groups, there was a pretentiousness about looking down on what are known as parvenus; those people who, as M. de Talleyrand put it, don’t know how to walk on a carpet. All of this led to grievances against the Faubourg St. Germain; meanwhile, Bonaparte's brothers did everything they could to stir him up against anything that might remind him of the Bourbons.







      Such were Bonaparte's feelings, and such was the state of society during
      the year 1802. The fear of the Bourbons must indeed have had a powerful
      influence on the First Consul before he could have been induced to take a
      step which may justly be regarded as the most inconsiderate of his whole
      life. After suffering seven months to elapse without answering the first
      letter of Louis XVIII., after at length answering his second letter in the
      tone of a King addressing a subject, he went so far as to write to Louis,
      proposing that he should renounce the throne of his ancestors in his,
      Bonaparte's, favour, and offering him as a reward for this renunciation a
      principality in Italy, or a considerable revenue for himself and his
      family.
    
Such were Bonaparte's feelings, and such was the state of society during the year 1802. The fear of the Bourbons must have had a significant impact on the First Consul, leading him to take what can rightly be seen as the most reckless decision of his entire life. After letting seven months pass without responding to the first letter from Louis XVIII, and finally replying to his second letter in a tone befitting a king addressing a subject, he went so far as to write to Louis, suggesting that he should give up the throne of his ancestors in favor of Bonaparte, and offering him a principality in Italy or a substantial income for himself and his family as compensation for this renunciation.






 —[Napoleon seems to have always known, as with Cromwell and the
   Stuarts, that if his dynasty failed the Bourbons must succeed him.
   "I remember," says Metternich, "Napoleon said to me, 'Do you know
   why Louis XVIII. is not now sitting opposite to you? It is only
   because it is I who am sitting here. No other person could maintain
   his position; and if ever I disappear in consequence of a
   catastrophe no one but a Bourbon could sit here.'" (Metternich, tome
   i. p. 248). Farther, he said to Metternich, "The King overthrown,
   the Republic was master of the soil of France. It is that which I
   have replaced. The old throne of France is buried under its
   rubbish. I had to found a new one. The Bourbons could not reign
   over this creation. My strength lies in my fortune. I am new, like
   the Empire; there is, therefore, a perfect homogeneity between the
   Empire and myself."—"However," says Metternich, "I have often
   thought that Napoleon, by talking in this way, merely sought to
   study the opinion of others, or to confuse it, and the direct
   advance which he made to Louis XVIII., in 1804 seemed to confirm
   this suspicion. Speaking to me one day of this advance he said,
   'Monsieur's reply was grand; it was full of fine traditions. There
   is something in legitimate rights which appeals to more than the
   mere mind. If Monsieur had consulted his mind only he would have
   arranged with me, and I should have made for him a magnificent
   future'" (Metternich, tome i, p. 276). According to Iung's Lucien
   (tome ii. p. 421), the letter written and signed by Napoleon, but
   never sent, another draft being substituted, is still in the French
   archives. Metternich speaks of Napoleon making a direct advance to
   Louis XVIII. in 1804. According to Colonel Iung (Lucien Bonaparte,
   tome ii. pp. 4211-426) the attempt was made through the King of
   Prussia in 1802, the final answer of Louis being made on the 28th
   February 1803, as given in the text, but with a postscript of his
   nephew in addition, "With the permission of the King, my uncle, I
   adhere with heart and soul to the contents of this note.
             "(signed) LOUIS ANTOINE, Duc d'Angouleme."

   The reader will remark that there is no great interval between this
   letter and the final break with the Bourbons by the death of the Duc
   d'Enghien. At this time, according to Savory (tome iii. p. 241),
   some of the Bourbons were receiving French pensions. The Prince de
   Conti, the Duchesse de Bourbon, and the Duchesse d'Orleans, when
   sent out of France by the Directory, were given pensions of from
   20,000 to 26,000 francs each. They lived in Catalonia. When the
   French troops entered Spain in 1808 General Canclaux, a friend of
   the Prince de Conti, brought to the notice of Napoleon that the
   tiresome formalities insisted on by the pestilent clerks of all
   nations were observed towards these regal personages. Gaudin, the
   Minister of Finance, apparently on his own initiative, drew up a
   decree increasing the pensions to 80,000 francs, and doing away with
   the formalities. "The Emperor signed at once, thanking the Minister
   of Finance." The reader, remembering the position of the French
   Princes then, should compare this action of Napoleon with the
   failure of the Bourbons in 1814 to pay the sums promised to
   Napoleon, notwithstanding the strong remonstrances made at Vienna to
   Talleyrand by Alexander and Lord Castlereagh. See Talleyrand's
   Correspondence with Louis XVIII., tome ii. pp. 27, 28; or French
   edition, pp. 285, 288.]— 
—[Napoleon always seemed to know, like Cromwell and the Stuarts, that if his dynasty fell, the Bourbons would take over. "I remember," says Metternich, "Napoleon said to me, 'Do you know why Louis XVIII isn’t sitting across from you now? It’s only because I’m here. No one else could hold this position; if I were to disappear due to some disaster, only a Bourbon could take my place.'" (Metternich, vol. i, p. 248). Furthermore, he told Metternich, "Once the King was overthrown, the Republic controlled France. That’s what I’ve replaced. The old throne of France is buried under debris. I had to establish a new one. The Bourbons can’t rule this creation. My power comes from my fortune. I am new, just like the Empire; thus, there’s perfect alignment between the Empire and me."— "However," says Metternich, "I often thought that Napoleon, by speaking this way, was just trying to gauge the opinions of others or to confuse them, and his direct approach to Louis XVIII in 1804 seemed to support this notion. One day, talking about that approach, he said, 'Monsieur's response was grand; it was full of noble traditions. There’s something about legitimate rights that appeals to more than just reason. If Monsieur had only considered his mind, he would have negotiated with me, and I would have created a wonderful future for him'" (Metternich, vol. i, p. 276). According to Iung's Lucien (vol. ii, p. 421), there’s a letter written and signed by Napoleon, but never sent, with another draft used instead, still in the French archives. Metternich mentions Napoleon making a direct approach to Louis XVIII in 1804. Colonel Iung (Lucien Bonaparte, vol. ii, pp. 4211-426) states that the attempt was made through the King of Prussia in 1802, with Louis’s final response given on February 28, 1803, as noted in the text, but with a postscript from his nephew, "With the permission of the King, my uncle, I fully support the content of this note. (signed) LOUIS ANTOINE, Duc d'Angouleme." 

The reader will note that there’s not much time between this letter and the final break with the Bourbons caused by the death of the Duc d'Enghien. Around this time, according to Savory (vol. iii, p. 241), some of the Bourbons were receiving pensions from France. The Prince de Conti, the Duchesse de Bourbon, and the Duchesse d'Orleans were given pensions ranging from 20,000 to 26,000 francs each when the Directory exiled them from France. They lived in Catalonia. When French troops entered Spain in 1808, General Canclaux, a friend of the Prince de Conti, brought to Napoleon's attention that the annoying formalities imposed by the bothersome clerks of all nations were being enforced on these royal figures. Gaudin, the Minister of Finance, seemingly on his own accord, created a decree increasing the pensions to 80,000 francs and eliminating the formalities. "The Emperor signed it immediately, thanking the Minister of Finance." Readers should compare Napoleon's action regarding the French Princes at that time with the Bourbons’ failure in 1814 to pay the sums promised to Napoleon, despite strong protests made to Talleyrand by Alexander and Lord Castlereagh in Vienna. See Talleyrand's Correspondence with Louis XVIII, vol. ii, pp. 27, 28; or French edition, pp. 285, 288.]—







      The reader will recollect the curious question which the First Consul put
      to me on the subject of the Bourbons when we were walking in the park of
      Malmaison. To the reply which I made to him on that occasion I attribute
      the secrecy he observed towards me respecting the letter just alluded to.
      I am indeed inclined to regard that letter as the result of one of his
      private conferences with Lucien; but I know nothing positive on the
      subject, and merely mention this as a conjecture. However, I had an
      opportunity of ascertaining the curious circumstances which took place at
      Mittau, when Bonaparte's letter was delivered to Louis XVIII.
    
The reader might remember the interesting question the First Consul asked me about the Bourbons while we were walking in the Malmaison park. I believe my response to him at that time is why he kept the letter I mentioned a secret from me. I tend to think that letter resulted from one of his private talks with Lucien, but I have no solid evidence about it, and I'm just sharing this as a guess. However, I had the chance to learn about the strange events that occurred in Mittau when Bonaparte's letter was given to Louis XVIII.







      That Prince was already much irritated against Bonaparte by his delay in
      answering his first letter, and also by the tenor of his tardy reply; but
      on reading the First Consul's second letter the dethroned King immediately
      sat down and traced a few lines forcibly expressing his indignation at
      such a proposition. The note, hastily written by Louis XVIII. in the first
      impulse of irritation, bore little resemblance to the dignified and
      elegant letter which Bonaparte received, and which I shall presently lay
      before the reader. This latter epistle closed very happily with the
      beautiful device of Francis I., "All is lost but honour." But the first
      letter was stamped with a more chivalrous tone of indignation. The
      indignant sovereign wrote it with his hand supported on the hilt of his
      sword; but the Abbe Andre, in whom Louis XVIII. reposed great confidence,
      saw the note, and succeeded, not without some difficulty, in soothing the
      anger of the King, and prevailing on him to write the following letter:
    
That prince was already quite annoyed with Bonaparte for taking so long to respond to his first letter, and also by the content of his late reply. However, after reading the First Consul's second letter, the dethroned king quickly sat down and wrote a few lines forcefully expressing his outrage at such a suggestion. The note, hastily written by Louis XVIII. in his initial irritation, looked nothing like the dignified and polished letter that Bonaparte received, which I will present to the reader shortly. This latter letter ended on a positive note with the beautiful saying of Francis I., "All is lost but honour." But the first letter had a more gallant tone of indignation. The angry monarch wrote it with his hand resting on the hilt of his sword; however, Abbe Andre, whom Louis XVIII. deeply trusted, saw the note and managed, with some effort, to calm the King’s anger, persuading him to write the following letter:






   I do not confound M. Bonaparte with those who have preceded him.
   I esteem his courage and his military talents. I am grateful for
   some acts of his government; for the benefits which are conferred on
   my people will always be prized by me.

   But he errs in supposing that he can induce me to renounce my
   rights; so far from that, he would confirm them, if they could
   possibly be doubtful, by the step he has now taken.

   I am ignorant of the designs of Heaven respecting me and my
   subjects; but I know the obligations which God has imposed upon me.
   As a Christian, I will fulfil my duties to my last breath—as the
   son of St. Louis, I would, like him, respect myself even in chains—
   as the successor of Francis I., I say with him—'Tout est perdu 'hors
   l'honneur'.

   MITTAU, 1802.              LOUIS.

   I don’t confuse M. Bonaparte with those who came before him. I respect his bravery and military skills. I appreciate some of his government’s actions; the benefits he brings to my people will always matter to me.

   But he is mistaken if he thinks he can get me to give up my rights; on the contrary, his recent actions only reinforce them, if there was ever any doubt.

   I don’t know what Heaven has in store for me and my people, but I understand the responsibilities that God has given me. As a Christian, I will fulfill my duties until my last breath—as the son of St. Louis, I would, like him, maintain my dignity even in chains—as the successor of Francis I, I say with him, ‘Everything is lost except for honor.’

   MITTAU, 1802.              LOUIS.







      Louis XVIII.'s letter having reached Paris, the Royalist committee
      assembled, and were not a little embarrassed as to what should be done.
      The meeting took place at Neuilly. After a long deliberation it was
      suggested that the delivery of the letter should be entrusted to the Third
      Consul, with whom the Abby de Montesqieu had kept up acquaintance since
      the time of the Constituent Assembly. This suggestion was adopted. The
      recollections of the commencement of his career, under Chancellor Maupeou,
      had always caused M. Lebrun to be ranked in a distinct class by the
      Royalists. For my part, I always looked upon him as a very honest man, a
      warm advocate of equality, and anxious that it should be protected even by
      despotism, which suited the views of the First Consul very well. The Abbe
      de Montesquiou accordingly waited upon M. Lebrun, who undertook to deliver
      the letter. Bonaparte received it with an air of indifference; but whether
      that indifference were real or affected, I am to this day unable to
      determine. He said very little to me about the ill success of the
      negotiation with Louis XVIII. On this subject he dreaded, above all, the
      interference of his brothers, who created around him a sort of commotion
      which he knew was not without its influence, and which on several
      occasions had excited his anger.
    
Louis XVIII's letter arrived in Paris, and the Royalist committee gathered, feeling quite unsure about what to do next. The meeting took place in Neuilly. After lengthy discussions, it was suggested that the letter should be delivered by the Third Consul, who had maintained a friendship with Abbé de Montesquieu since the time of the Constituent Assembly. This suggestion was accepted. The memories of his early career under Chancellor Maupeou always led the Royalists to place M. Lebrun in a separate category. Personally, I saw him as a very honest man, a strong supporter of equality, eager for it to be safeguarded even under despotism, which aligned nicely with the First Consul's objectives. Abbé de Montesquieu then visited M. Lebrun, who agreed to deliver the letter. Bonaparte received it with a sense of indifference; whether that indifference was genuine or feigned, I still can't figure out. He didn’t say much to me about the failed negotiations with Louis XVIII. Regarding this topic, he particularly feared the interference of his brothers, who stirred up a kind of unrest around him that he knew had its effects and which had angered him on several occasions.







      The letter of Louis XVIII. is certainly conceived in a tone of dignity
      which cannot be too highly admired; and it may be said that Bonaparte on
      this occasion rendered a real service to Louis by affording him the
      opportunity of presenting to the world one of the finest pages in the
      history of a dethroned King. This letter, the contents of which were known
      in some circles of Paris, was the object of general approbation to those
      who preserved the recollection of the Bourbons, and above all, to the
      Royalist committee. The members of that committee, proud of the noble
      spirit evinced by the unfortunate monarch, whose return they were
      generously labouring to effect, replied to him by a sort of manifesto, to
      which time has imparted interest, since subsequent events have fulfilled
      the predictions it contained.
    
The letter from Louis XVIII is definitely written with a tone of dignity that deserves high praise. It can be said that Bonaparte, in this instance, actually helped Louis by giving him the chance to showcase one of the finest moments in the history of a dethroned king. This letter, which some people in Paris were already aware of, was generally well-received by those who remembered the Bourbons, especially by the Royalist committee. The members of that committee, proud of the noble spirit shown by the unfortunate monarch they were working hard to bring back, responded with a sort of manifesto, which has gained interest over time since later events confirmed the predictions it made.








 


 




















      CHAPTER XVI
    



      1802.
    
1802.


   The day after my disgrace—Renewal of my duties—Bonaparte's
   affected regard for me—Offer of an assistant—M. de Meneval—My
   second rupture with Bonaparte—The Duc de Rovigo's account of it—
   Letter from M. de Barbe Marbois—Real causes of my separation from
   the First Consul—Postscript to the letter of M. de Barbe Marbois—
   The black cabinet—Inspection of letters dining the Consulate—
   I retire to St. Cloud—Communications from M. de Meneval—A week's
   conflict between friendship and pride—My formal dismissal—Petty
   revenge—My request to visit England—Monosyllabic answer—Wrong
   suspicion—Burial of my papers—Communication from Duroc—My letter
   to the First Consul—The truth acknowledged.

The day after my disgrace—Renewal of my duties—Bonaparte's fake concern for me—Offer of an assistant—M. de Meneval—My second fallout with Bonaparte—The Duc de Rovigo's account of it—Letter from M. de Barbe Marbois—Real reasons for my split with the First Consul—Postscript to the letter from M. de Barbe Marbois—The black cabinet—Reviewing letters during the Consulate—I retreat to St. Cloud—Messages from M. de Meneval—A week's struggle between friendship and pride—My official dismissal—Small acts of revenge—My request to visit England—One-word response—Misplaced suspicion—Destruction of my papers—Message from Duroc—My letter to the First Consul—The truth accepted.







      I shall now return to the circumstances which followed my first disgrace,
      of which I have already spoken. The day after that on which I had resumed
      my functions I went as usual to awaken the First Consul at seven in the
      morning. He treated me just the same as if nothing had happened between
      us; and on my part I behaved to him just as usual, though I really
      regretted being obliged to resume labours which I found too oppressive for
      me. When Bonaparte came down into his cabinet he spoke to me of his plans
      with his usual confidence, and I saw, from the number of letters lying in
      the basket, that during the few days my functions had been suspended
      Bonaparte had not overcome his disinclination to peruse this kind of
      correspondence. At the period of this first rupture and reconciliation the
      question of the Consulate for life was yet unsettled. It was not decided
      until the 2d of August, and the circumstances to which I am about to refer
      happened at the end of February.
    
I will now go back to the events that followed my first disgrace, which I've already mentioned. The day after I resumed my duties, I went as usual to wake up the First Consul at seven in the morning. He treated me just like nothing had happened between us, and I acted the same way towards him, though I really didn’t want to go back to work that I found too burdensome for me. When Bonaparte came down to his office, he talked to me about his plans with his typical confidence, and I noticed from the pile of letters in the basket that during the few days my duties had been on hold, Bonaparte had not managed to get himself to look through that kind of correspondence. At the time of this first break and reconciliation, the question of the Consulate for life was still unresolved. It wasn’t decided until August 2nd, and the events I’m about to describe took place at the end of February.







      I was now restored to my former footing of intimacy with the First Consul,
      at least for a time; but I soon perceived that, after the scene which M.
      de Talleyrand had witnessed, my duties in the Tuileries were merely
      provisional, and might be shortened or prolonged according to
      circumstances. I saw at the very first moment that Bonaparte had
      sacrificed his wounded pride to the necessity (for such I may, without any
      vanity, call it) of employing my services. The forced preference he
      granted to me arose from the fact of his being unable to find any one able
      to supply my place; for Duroc, as I have already said, showed a
      disinclination to the business. I did not remain long in the dark
      respecting the new situation in which I stood. I was evidently still under
      quarantine; but the period of my quitting the port was undetermined.
    
I was back on good terms with the First Consul, at least for a while; but I quickly realized that, after what M. de Talleyrand had seen, my role at the Tuileries was only temporary and could be either shortened or extended depending on the situation. I understood right away that Bonaparte had set aside his bruised ego for the necessity (and I say this without any arrogance) of using my skills. The forced choice he made to keep me around was because he couldn't find anyone else who could do what I did; Duroc, as I mentioned before, wasn't interested in the job. I didn’t stay in the dark for long about my new situation. It was clear I was still under quarantine, but I didn’t know when I would be free to leave.







      A short time after our reconciliation the First Consul said to me, in a
      cajoling tone of which I was not the dupe, "My dear Bourrienne, you cannot
      do everything. Business increases, and will continue to increase. You know
      what Corvisart says. You have a family; therefore it is right you should
      take care of your health. You must not kill yourself with work; therefore
      some one must be got to assist you. Joseph tells me that he can recommend
      a secretary, one of whom he speaks very highly. He shall be under your
      direction; he can make out your copies, and do all that can consistently
      be required of him. This, I think, will be a great relief to you."—"I
      ask for nothing better," replied I, "than to have the assistance of some
      one who, after becoming acquainted with the business, may, some time or
      other, succeed me." Joseph sent M. de Meneval, a young man who, to a good
      education, added the recommendations of industry and prudence. I had every
      reason to be satisfied with him.
    
A little while after we made up, the First Consul said to me in a persuasive tone that I wasn't fooled by, "My dear Bourrienne, you can’t do everything. The workload is growing and will keep growing. You know what Corvisart says. You have a family, so it’s important for you to take care of your health. You shouldn’t overwork yourself, so we need to find someone to help you. Joseph tells me he can recommend a secretary whom he speaks highly of. He will report to you; he can manage your copies and handle everything that can reasonably be expected of him. I think this will be a big relief for you." — "I couldn’t ask for anything better," I replied, "than to have help from someone who could eventually take over after getting familiar with the work." Joseph sent M. de Meneval, a young man who had a solid education and was known for his hard work and good judgment. I had every reason to be pleased with him.







      It was now that Napoleon employed all those devices and caresses which
      always succeeded so well with him, and which yet again gained the day, to
      put an end to the inconvenience caused to him by my retirement, and to
      retain me. Here I call every one who knew me as witnesses that nothing
      could equal my grief and despair to find myself obliged to again begin my
      troublesome work. My health had suffered much from it. Corvisart was a
      clever counsellor, but it was only during the night that I could carry out
      his advice. To resume my duties was to renounce all hope of rest, and even
      of health.
    
It was at this point that Napoleon used all his usual tactics and charm, which had always worked well for him, and once again they proved effective in ending the hassle my departure caused him and keeping me around. I call upon everyone who knew me as witnesses that nothing could compare to my sorrow and despair at having to start my difficult work all over again. My health had taken a serious hit because of it. Corvisart was a smart advisor, but I could only follow his advice at night. Going back to my duties meant giving up any hope of rest, and even my health.






 —[There is considerable truth in this statement about the effect on
   his health. His successor, Meneval, without the same amount of
   work, broke down and had to receive assistance (Meneval, tome i. p.
   149).]— 
 —[There is a lot of truth in this statement about the impact on his health. His successor, Meneval, who had less work, also had a breakdown and needed help (Meneval, tome i. p. 149).] 







      I soon perceived the First Consul's anxiety to make M. de Meneval
      acquainted with the routine of business, and accustomed to his manner.
      Bonaparte had never pardoned me for having presumed to quit him after he
      had attained so high a degree of power; he was only waiting for an
      opportunity to punish me, and he seized upon an unfortunate circumstance
      as an excuse for that separation which I had previously wished to bring
      about.
    
I soon realized that the First Consul was eager to get M. de Meneval familiar with the way things worked and accustomed to his style. Bonaparte had never forgiven me for daring to leave him after he had risen to such high power; he was just waiting for a chance to get back at me, and he took advantage of an unfortunate situation as an excuse for the separation I had hoped to create earlier.







      I will explain this circumstance, which ought to have obtained for me the
      consolation and assistance of the First Consul rather than the forfeiture
      of his favour. My rupture with him has been the subject of various
      misstatements, all of which I shall not take the trouble to correct; I
      will merely notice what I have read in the Memoirs of the Duc de Rovigo,
      in which it is stated that I was accused of peculation. M. de Rovigo thus
      expresses himself:
    
I will explain this situation, which should have brought me the support and help of the First Consul instead of losing his favor. My falling out with him has been the subject of many misunderstandings, most of which I won’t bother to correct; I will just mention what I have read in the Memoirs of the Duc de Rovigo, where it claims that I was accused of embezzlement. M. de Rovigo puts it this way:






   Ever since the First Consul was invested with the supreme power his
   life had been a continued scene of personal exertion. He had for
   his private secretary M. de Bourrienne, a friend and companion of
   his youth, whom he now made the sharer of all his labours. He
   frequently sent for him in the dead of the night, and particularly
   insisted upon his attending him every morning at seven. Bourrienne
   was punctual in his attendance with the public papers, which he had
   previously glanced over. The First Consul almost invariably read
   their contents himself; he then despatched some business, and sat
   down to table just as the clock struck nine. His breakfast, which
   lasted six minutes, was no sooner over than he returned to his
   cabinet, only left it for dinner, and resumed his close occupation
   immediately after, until ten at night, which was his usual hour for
   retiring to rest.

   Bourrienne was gifted with a most wonderful memory; he could speak
   and write many languages, and would make his pen follow as fast as
   words were uttered. He possessed many other advantages; he was well
   acquainted with the administrative departments, was versed in the
   law of nations, and possessed a zeal and activity which rendered his
   services quite indispensable to the First Consul. I have known the
   several grounds upon which the unlimited confidence placed in him by
   his chief rested, but am unable to speak with equal assurance of the
   errors which occasioned his losing that confidence.

   Bourrienne had many enemies; some were owing to his personal
   character, a greater number to the situation which he held.
   Others were jealous of the credit he enjoyed with the Head of the
   Government; others, again, discontented at his not making that
   credit subservient to their personal advantage. Some even imputed
   to him the want of success that had attended their claims. It was
   impossible to bring any charge against him on the score of
   deficiency of talent or of indiscreet conduct; his personal habits
   were watched—it was ascertained that he engaged in financial
   speculations. An imputation could easily be founded on this
   circumstance. Peculation was accordingly laid to his charge.

   This was touching the most tender ground, for the First Consul held
   nothing in greater abhorrence than unlawful gains. A solitary
   voice, however, would have failed in an attempt to defame the
   character of a man for whom he had so long felt esteem and
   affection; other voices, therefore, were brought to bear against
   him. Whether the accusations were well founded or otherwise, it is
   beyond a doubt that all means were resorted to for bringing them to
   the knowledge of the First Consul.

   The most effectual course that suggested itself was the opening a
   correspondence either with the accused party direct, or with those
   with whom it was felt indispensable to bring him into contact; this
   correspondence was carried on in a mysterious manner, and related to
   the financial operations that had formed the grounds of a charge
   against him.—Thus it is that, on more than one occasion, the very
   channels intended for conveying truth to the knowledge of a
   sovereign have been made available to the purpose of communicating
   false intelligence to him. To give an instance.

   Under the reign of Louis XV., and even under the Regency, the Post
   Office was organized into a system of minute inspection, which did
   not indeed extend to every letter, but was exercised over all such
   as afforded grounds for suspicion. They were opened, and, when it
   was not deemed safe to suppress them, copies were taken, and they
   were returned to their proper channel without the least delay. Any
   individual denouncing another may, by the help of such an
   establishment, give great weight to his denunciation. It is
   sufficient for his purpose that he should throw into the Post Office
   any letter so worded as to confirm the impression which it is his
   object to convey. The worthiest man may thus be committed by a
   letter which he has never read, or the purport of which is wholly
   unintelligible to him.

   I am speaking from personal experience. It once happened that a
   letter addressed to myself, relating to an alleged fact which had
   never occurred, was opened. A copy of the letter so opened was also
   forwarded to me, as it concerned the duties which I had to perform
   at that time; but I was already in possession of the original,
   transmitted through the ordinary channel. Summoned to reply to the
   questions to which such productions had given rise, I took that
   opportunity of pointing out the danger that would accrue from
   placing a blind reliance upon intelligence derived from so hazardous
   a source. Accordingly, little importance was afterwards attached to
   this means of information; but the system was in operation at the
   period when M. de Bourrienne was disgraced; his enemies took care to
   avail themselves of it; they blackened his character with M. de
   Barbe Marbois, who added to their accusations all the weight of his
   unblemished character. The opinion entertained by this rigid public
   functionary, and many other circumstances, induced the First Consul
   to part with his secretary (tome i. p. 418).

   Ever since the First Consul was given supreme power, his life had been a constant round of personal effort. He chose M. de Bourrienne, a friend from his youth, as his private secretary, sharing all his responsibilities with him. He often called for him in the middle of the night and insisted he be present every morning at seven. Bourrienne would show up on time with the public papers, which he had reviewed beforehand. The First Consul almost always read them himself, then dealt with some matters and sat down for breakfast just as the clock struck nine. His breakfast lasted six minutes, and as soon as it was over, he returned to his office, only leaving for dinner, and then went back to work until ten at night, which was his usual bedtime.

   Bourrienne had an impressive memory; he could speak and write in multiple languages and could write down everything spoken at high speed. He had other advantages as well; he was knowledgeable about administrative matters, well-versed in international law, and had a zeal and energy that made him essential to the First Consul. I know the various reasons for the absolute trust his chief placed in him, but I'm not as certain about the mistakes that led to that trust being lost.

   Bourrienne had many enemies, some due to his personal traits, but more because of his position. Others were jealous of his influence with the head of the government, and some were unhappy that he didn't use that influence for their personal benefit. A few even blamed him for their own lack of success. It was impossible to accuse him of being untalented or behaving indiscreetly; his personal habits were scrutinized, and it was found that he was involved in financial speculations. It was easy to base accusations on this fact. Embezzlement was consequently charged against him.

   This touched a sensitive subject, as the First Consul despised unlawful gain above all else. However, a lone voice wouldn’t have succeeded in tarnishing the reputation of someone he had respected and cared for for so long; therefore, other voices were rallied against him. Whether the accusations were justified or not, it’s clear that all means were used to bring them to the attention of the First Consul.

   The most effective approach suggested was to open a correspondence either with the accused directly or with those whose involvement was considered necessary; this correspondence was conducted secretly and concerned the financial operations that had formed the basis of the charges against him. This is how, on more than one occasion, channels meant to deliver truth to a ruler have been misused to spread false information instead. For instance.

   During the reign of Louis XV, and even in the Regency, the Post Office was organized into a system of strict oversight, which didn’t cover every letter, but was put in place for any correspondence that raised suspicion. Those letters were opened, and if deemed unsafe to suppress, copies were made and sent back without delay. Anyone denouncing another could use such a system to lend significant weight to their claims. It was enough for them to drop a letter into the Post Office, worded to reinforce the impression they wanted to create. A completely innocent person could be implicated by a letter they've never seen, or one that is totally incomprehensible to them.

   I speak from personal experience. Once, a letter addressed to me, concerning an alleged event that never took place, was opened. A copy of that opened letter was also sent to me, as it pertained to my responsibilities at the time; however, I already had the original sent through the regular channel. Called to respond to questions raised by such documents, I used the opportunity to highlight the risks of blindly trusting information from such a dubious source. Consequently, little weight was given to this method of information afterward; but that system was in place when M. de Bourrienne was disgraced; his enemies made sure to take advantage of it. They tarnished his reputation with M. de Barbe Marbois, who added the credibility of his own unblemished character to their accusations. The opinion of this stringent public official, along with many other factors, led the First Consul to part ways with his secretary (tome i. p. 418).







      Peculation is the crime of those who make a fraudulent use of the public
      money. But as it was not in my power to meddle with the public money, no
      part of which passed through my hands, I am at loss to conceive how I can
      be charged with peculation! The Duc de Rovigo is not the author, but
      merely the echo, of this calumny; but the accusation to which his Memoirs
      gave currency afforded M. de Barbe Marbois an opportunity of adding one
      more to the many proofs he has given of his love of justice.
    
Peculation is the crime of misusing public funds. However, since I had no control over public money, none of which came through my hands, I don't see how I can be accused of peculation! The Duc de Rovigo is not the original source, but just a mouthpiece for this slander; yet the claim that his Memoirs circulated gave M. de Barbe Marbois a chance to provide yet another example of his commitment to justice.







      I had seen nothing of the Memoirs of the Duc de Rovigo except their
      announcement in the journals, when a letter from M. de Barbe Marbois was
      transmitted to me from my family. It was as follows:
    
I hadn't seen anything about the Memoirs of the Duc de Rovigo except for their announcement in the newspapers, when my family forwarded me a letter from M. de Barbe Marbois. It said:






   SIR—My attention has been called to the enclosed article in a
   recent publication. The assertion it contains is not true, and I
   conceive it to be a duty both to you and myself to declare that I
   then was, and still am, ignorant of the causes of the separation in
   question:—I am, etc.
                  (Signed) MARBOIS

   SIR—I've been made aware of the enclosed article in a recent publication. The claim it makes is false, and I feel it's my responsibility to you and myself to state that I was, and still am, unaware of the reasons behind the separation in question:—I am, etc.  
                  (Signed) MARBOIS







      I need say no more in my justification. This unsolicited testimony of M.
      de Marbois is a sufficient contradiction to the charge of peculation which
      has been raised against me in the absence of correct information
      respecting the real causes of my rupture with the First Consul.
    
I don’t need to say anything more to defend myself. This unsolicited statement from M. de Marbois is enough to counter the accusation of theft that has been made against me, especially since there’s no accurate information about why I had a falling out with the First Consul.







      M. le Duc de Rovigo also observes that my enemies were numerous. My
      concealed adversaries were indeed all those who were interested that the
      sovereign should not have about him, as his confidential companion, a man
      devoted to his glory and not to his vanity. In expressing his
      dissatisfaction with one of his ministers Bonaparte had said, in the
      presence of several individuals, among whom was M. Maret, "If I could find
      a second Bourrienne I would get rid of you all." This was sufficient to
      raise against me the hatred of all who envied the confidence of which I
      was in possession.
    
M. le Duc de Rovigo also notes that I had a lot of enemies. My hidden opponents were really anyone who didn't want the sovereign to have as his trusted companion someone dedicated to his glory rather than his vanity. When expressing his frustration with one of his ministers, Bonaparte mentioned in front of several people, including M. Maret, "If I could find another Bourrienne, I would get rid of all of you." This was enough to stir up the resentment of everyone who envied the trust I had earned.







      The failure of a firm in Paris in which I had invested a considerable sum
      of money afforded an opportunity for envy and malignity to irritate the
      First Consul against me. Bonaparte, who had not yet forgiven me for
      wishing to leave him, at length determined to sacrifice my services to a
      new fit of ill-humour.
    
The collapse of a company in Paris where I had put in a significant amount of money gave others a chance to stir up jealousy and resentment in the First Consul against me. Bonaparte, who still hadn't forgiven me for wanting to leave him, ultimately decided to throw my efforts away due to a new bout of bad mood.







      A mercantile house, then one of the most respectable in Patna, had among
      its speculations undertaken some army contracts. With the knowledge of
      Berthier, with whom, indeed, the house had treated, I had invested some
      money in this business. Unfortunately the principals were, unknown to me,
      engaged in dangerous speculations in the Funds, which in a short time so
      involved them as to occasion their failure for a heavy amount. This caused
      a rumour that a slight fall of the Funds, which took place at that period,
      was occasioned by the bankruptcy; and the First Consul, who never could
      understand the nature of the Funds, gave credit to the report. He was made
      to believe that the business of the Stock Exchange was ruined. It was
      insinuated that I was accused of taking advantage of my situation to
      produce variations in the Funds, though I was so unfortunate as to lose
      not only my investment in the bankrupt house, but also a sum of money for
      which I had become bound, by way of surety, to assist the house in
      increasing its business. I incurred the violent displeasure of the First
      Consul, who declared to me that he no longer required my services. I
      might, perhaps have cooled his irritation by reminding him that he could
      not blame me for purchasing an interest in a contract, since he himself
      had stipulated for a gratuity of 1,500,000 francs for his brother Joseph
      out of the contract for victualling the navy. But I saw that for some time
      past M. de Meneval had begun to supersede me, and the First Consul only
      wanted such an opportunity as this for coming to a rupture with me.
    
A trading company, once one of the most reputable in Patna, took on some government contracts. With Berthier’s knowledge, whom the company had interacted with, I had invested some money in this venture. Unfortunately, the main partners were, unbeknownst to me, involved in risky investments in the stock market, which soon led to their significant loss and bankruptcy. This sparked rumors that a slight drop in the market at that time was due to their failure, and the First Consul, who never quite understood the stock market, believed the reports. He was led to think that the Stock Exchange was ruined. It was suggested that I was being accused of exploiting my position to manipulate the market, even though I was unfortunate enough to lose not just my investment in the bankrupt company, but also an amount for which I had guaranteed support to help the company grow its business. I incurred the intense anger of the First Consul, who told me he no longer needed my services. I might have eased his frustration by reminding him that he couldn’t fault me for investing in a contract, since he himself had secured a bonus of 1,500,000 francs for his brother Joseph from the contract for supplying the navy. But I noticed that M. de Meneval had already started taking my place, and the First Consul was just waiting for a reason to cut ties with me.







      Such is a true statement of the circumstances which led to my separation
      from Bonaparte. I defy any one to adduce a single fact in support of the
      charge of peculation, or any transaction of the kind; I fear no
      investigation of my conduct. When in the service of Bonaparte I caused
      many appointments to be made, and many names to be erased from the
      emigrant list before the 'Senatus-consulte' of the 6th Floréal, year X.;
      but I never counted upon gratitude, experience having taught me that it
      was an empty word.
    
This is a true account of the circumstances that led to my separation from Bonaparte. I challenge anyone to provide a single fact to support the accusation of wrongdoing or any similar transaction; I welcome any investigation into my actions. During my time in Bonaparte's service, I facilitated many appointments and had numerous names removed from the emigrant list before the 'Senatus-consulte' of the 6th Floréal, year X.; however, I never expected gratitude, as experience has shown me that it is just an empty word.







      The Duc de Rovigo attributed my disgrace to certain intercepted letters
      which injured me in the eyes of the First Consul. I did not know this at
      the time, and though I was pretty well aware of the machinations of
      Bonaparte's adulators, almost all of whom were my enemies, yet I did not
      contemplate such an act of baseness. But a spontaneous letter from M. de
      Barbe Marbois at length opened my eyes, and left little doubt on the
      subject. The following is the postscript to that noble peer's letter:
    
The Duc de Rovigo blamed my downfall on some intercepted letters that damaged my reputation with the First Consul. I wasn't aware of this at the time, and while I had a good sense of the schemes set by Bonaparte's admirers—most of whom were my enemies—I never expected such a treacherous act. However, a candid letter from M. de Barbe Marbois eventually made me see the truth and left little doubt about it. Here’s the postscript to that esteemed noble's letter:






   I recollect that one Wednesday the First Consul, while presiding at
   a Council of Ministers at St. Cloud, opened a note, and, without
   informing us what it contained, hastily left the Board, apparently
   much agitated. In a few minutes he returned and told us that your
   functions had ceased.

   I remember that one Wednesday, the First Consul was leading a Council of Ministers at St. Cloud when he opened a note. Without telling us what it said, he quickly left the meeting, looking quite shaken. A few minutes later, he came back and informed us that your duties had ended.







      Whether the sudden displeasure of the First Consul was excited by a false
      representation of my concern in the transaction which proved so
      unfortunate to me, or whether Bonaparte merely made that a pretence for
      carrying into execution a resolution which I am convinced had been
      previously adopted, I shall not stop to determine; but the Duc de Rovigo
      having mentioned the violation of the secrecy of letters in my case, I
      shall take the opportunity of stating some particulars on that subject.
    
Whether the sudden anger of the First Consul was triggered by a misrepresentation of my involvement in the unfortunate event, or if Bonaparte simply used that as an excuse to carry out a decision he had already made, I won’t dwell on. However, since the Duc de Rovigo brought up the breach of confidentiality regarding my letters, I will take this chance to share some details on that matter.







      Before I wrote these Memoirs the existence in the Post Office of the
      cabinet, which had obtained the epithet of black, had been denounced in
      the chamber of deputies, and the answer was, that it no longer existed,
      which of course amounted to an admission that it had existed. I may
      therefore, without indiscretion, state what I know respecting it.
    
Before I wrote these Memoirs, the existence of the cabinet in the Post Office, which had been called the black cabinet, was criticized in the chamber of deputies, and the response was that it no longer existed, which basically confirmed that it had existed. I can therefore state what I know about it without being indiscreet.







      The "black cabinet" was established in the reign of Louis XV., merely for
      the purpose of prying into the scandalous gossip of the Court and the
      capital. The existence of this cabinet soon became generally known to
      every one. The numerous postmasters who succeeded each other, especially
      in latter times, the still more numerous Post Office clerks, and that
      portion of the public who are ever on the watch for what is held up as
      scandalous, soon banished all the secrecy of the affair, and none but
      fools were taken in by it. All who did not wish to be committed by their
      correspondence chose better channels of communication than the Post; but
      those who wanted to ruin an enemy or benefit a friend long continued to
      avail themselves of the black cabinet, which, at first intended merely to
      amuse a monarch's idle hours, soon became a medium of intrigue, dangerous
      from the abuse that might be made of it.
    
The "black cabinet" was set up during Louis XV's reign just to dig into the scandalous gossip of the Court and the city. Soon, everyone knew about its existence. The many postmasters who came and went, especially in later times, along with the even more numerous Post Office clerks, and those members of the public always looking for sensational stories, quickly took away any secrecy. Only fools were fooled by it. Those who didn't want their correspondence to implicate them found better ways to communicate than through the Post; however, those who wanted to sabotage an enemy or help a friend continued to use the black cabinet for a long time. What was originally meant just to entertain a king during his idle moments quickly turned into a tool for intrigue, dangerous because of the potential misuse.







      Every morning, for three years, I used to peruse the portfolio containing
      the bulletins of the black cabinet, and I frankly confess that I never
      could discover any real cause for the public indignation against it,
      except inasmuch as it proved the channel of vile intrigue. Out of 30,000
      letters, which daily left Paris to be distributed through France and all
      parts of the world, ten or twelve, at most, were copied, and often only a
      few lines of them.
    
Every morning, for three years, I would look through the portfolio containing the bulletins of the black cabinet, and I honestly admit that I never found any real reason for the public outrage against it, other than the fact that it served as a way for nasty plots. Out of 30,000 letters that left Paris each day to be sent throughout France and the rest of the world, only ten or twelve, at most, were copied, and often just a few lines from them.







      Bonaparte at first proposed to send complete copies of intercepted letters
      to the ministers whom their contents might concern; but a few observations
      from me induced him to direct that only the important passages should be
      extracted and sent. I made these extracts, and transmitted them to their
      destinations, accompanied by the following words: "The First Consul
      directs me to inform you that he has just received the following
      information," etc. Whence the information came was left to be guessed at.
    
Bonaparte initially suggested sending full copies of intercepted letters to the ministers who might be affected by their contents; however, after I made a few comments, he decided that only the important parts should be extracted and sent. I made these extracts and sent them to their destinations, accompanied by the following message: "The First Consul instructs me to let you know that he has just received the following information," etc. The source of the information was left for them to speculate about.







      The First Consul daily received through this channel about a dozen
      pretended letters, the writers of which described their enemies as
      opponents of the Government, or their friends as models of obedience and
      fidelity to the constituted authorities. But the secret purpose of this
      vile correspondence was soon discovered, and Bonaparte gave orders that no
      more of it should be copied. I, however, suffered from it at the time of
      my disgrace, and was well-nigh falling a victim to it at a subsequent
      period.
    
The First Consul received about a dozen fake letters daily through this channel, where the writers accused their enemies of being against the Government and praised their friends as examples of loyalty and obedience to the established authorities. However, the hidden agenda behind this deceitful correspondence was quickly uncovered, and Bonaparte ordered that no more of it should be copied. I, however, was affected by it during my downfall and almost fell victim to it again later on.







      The letter mentioned by M. de Marbois, and which was the occasion of this
      digression on the violation of private correspondence, derived importance
      from the circumstance that Wednesday, the 20th of October, when Bonaparte
      received it, was the day on which I left the Consular palace.
    
The letter that M. de Marbois mentioned, and which led to this digression about the breach of private correspondence, was significant because Wednesday, October 20th, when Bonaparte received it, was the day I left the Consular palace.







      I retired to a house which Bonaparte had advised me to purchase at St.
      Cloud, and for the fitting up and furnishing of which he had promised to
      pay. We shall see how he kept this promise! I immediately sent to direct
      Landoire, the messenger of Bonaparte's cabinet, to place all letters sent
      to me in the First Consul's portfolio, because many intended for him came
      under cover for me. In consequence of this message I received the
      following letter from M. de Meneval:
    
I moved into a house that Bonaparte had suggested I buy in St. Cloud, and he had promised to cover the costs for setting it up and furnishing it. We'll see how well he kept that promise! I quickly sent word to Landoire, Bonaparte's messenger, to make sure all letters meant for me were put in the First Consul's portfolio, since many intended for him arrived addressed to me. Because of this message, I got the following letter from M. de Meneval:






   MY DEAR BOURRIENNE—I cannot believe that the First Consul would
   wish that your letters should be presented to him. I presume you
   allude only to those which may concern him, and which come addressed
   under cover to you. The First Consul has written to citizens
   Lavallette and Mollien directing them to address their packets to
   him. I cannot allow Landoire to obey the order you sent.

   The First Consul yesterday evening evinced great regret. He
   repeatedly said, "How miserable I am! I have known that man since
   he was seven years old." I cannot but believe that he will
   reconsider his unfortunate decision. I have intimated to him that
   the burden of the business is too much for me, and that he must be
   extremely at a loss for the services of one to whom he was so much
   accustomed, and whose situation, I am confident, nobody else can
   satisfactorily fill. He went to bed very low-spirited. I am, etc.
                    (Signed) MENEVAL.

   19 Vendemiaire, an X.
   (21st October 1802.)

   MY DEAR BOURRIENNE—I can’t believe that the First Consul would want your letters to be presented to him. I assume you’re only referring to those that concern him and are sent to you under separate cover. The First Consul has written to citizens Lavallette and Mollien, telling them to send their packages directly to him. I can’t let Landoire carry out the order you sent.

   The First Consul showed a lot of regret last night. He kept saying, "How miserable I am! I’ve known that man since he was seven." I truly believe he’ll rethink his unfortunate decision. I’ve hinted to him that managing this situation is too much for me, and that he must feel extremely lost without someone he’s so used to, and whose role, I’m sure, no one else can fill as well. He went to bed very downcast. I am, etc.  
                    (Signed) MENEVAL.

   19 Vendemiaire, an X.  
   (21st October 1802.)







      Next day I received another letter from M. Meneval as follows:—
    
Next day, I got another letter from M. Meneval that said:—






   I send you your letters. The First Consul prefers that you should
   break them open, and send here those which are intended for him. I
   enclose some German papers, which he begs you to translate.

   Madame Bonaparte is much interested in your behalf; and I can assure
   you that no one more heartily desires than the First Consul himself
   to see you again at your old post, for which it would be difficult
   to find a successor equal to you, either as regards fidelity or
   fitness. I do not relinquish the hope of seeing you here again.

   I’m sending you your letters. The First Consul would like you to open them and send back the ones meant for him. I’ve included some German papers that he asks you to translate.

   Madame Bonaparte is very interested in your situation; and I can assure you that no one wishes more than the First Consul himself to see you back in your old position, as it would be hard to find someone as loyal or capable. I still hold onto the hope of seeing you here again.







      A whole week passed away in conflicts between the First Consul's
      friendship and pride. The least desire he manifested to recall me was
      opposed by his flatterers. On the fifth day of our separation he directed
      me to come to him. He received me with the greatest kindness, and after
      having good-humouredly told me that I often expressed myself with too much
      freedom—a fault I was never solicitous to correct—he added: "I
      regret your absence much. You were very useful to me. You are neither too
      noble nor too plebeian, neither too aristocratic nor too Jacobinical. You
      are discreet and laborious. You understand me better than any one else;
      and, between ourselves be it said, we ought to consider this a sort of
      Court. Look at Duroc, Bessières, Maret. However, I am very much inclined
      to take you back; but by so doing I should confirm the report that I
      cannot do without you."
    
A whole week went by filled with tensions between the First Consul's friendship and pride. The slightest hint he showed of wanting to bring me back was pushed back by his yes-men. On the fifth day of our separation, he asked me to come see him. He welcomed me warmly and, with good humor, mentioned that I often spoke too freely—a flaw I was never too eager to fix. Then he added, "I really miss having you around. You were really helpful to me. You’re not too highborn or too common, neither too aristocratic nor too radical. You’re discreet and hard-working. You understand me better than anyone else; and, just between us, we should think of this as something of a Court. Look at Duroc, Bessières, Maret. Still, I’m quite inclined to bring you back; but if I do, I’d only be reinforcing the idea that I can’t do without you."







      Madame Bonaparte informed me that she had heard persons to whom Bonaparte
      expressed a desire to recall me observe, "What would you do? People will
      say you cannot do without him. You have got rid of him now; therefore
      think no more about him: and as for the English newspapers, he gave them
      more importance than they really deserved: you will no longer be troubled
      with them." This will bring to mind a scene—which occurred at
      Malmaison on the receipt of some intelligence in the 'London Gazette'.
    
Madame Bonaparte told me that she heard people Bonaparte confided in about wanting to bring me back say, "What would you do? People will say you can’t manage without him. You’ve gotten rid of him now; so stop thinking about him. And as for the English newspapers, he gave them more credit than they actually deserved; you won’t have to deal with them anymore." This reminds me of a scene that happened at Malmaison when we received some news from the 'London Gazette.'







      I am convinced that if Bonaparte had been left to himself he would have
      recalled me, and this conviction is warranted by the interval which
      elapsed between his determination to part with me and the formal
      announcement of my dismissal. Our rupture took place on the 20th of
      October, and on the 8th of November following the First Consul sent me the
      following letter:
    
I truly believe that if Bonaparte had been left to his own devices, he would have asked for me back. I feel this way because of the time that passed between his decision to let me go and the official notice of my dismissal. Our break happened on October 20th, and on November 8th, the First Consul sent me this letter:






   CITIZEN BOURRIENNE, MINISTER OF STATE—I am satisfied with the
   services which you have rendered me during the time you have been
   with me; but henceforth they are no longer necessary. I wish you to
   relinquish, from this time, the functions and title of my private
   secretary. I shall seize an early opportunity of providing for you
   in a way suited to your activity and talents, and conducive to the
   public service.
               (Signed)BONAPARTE.

   CITIZEN BOURRIENNE, MINISTER OF STATE—I appreciate the work you've done for me while you were with me, but from now on, your services are no longer needed. I want you to step down from your role and title as my private secretary starting now. I will look for a suitable opportunity to support you in a way that matches your skills and benefits the public service.
               (Signed)BONAPARTE.







      If any proof of the First Consul's malignity were wanting it would be
      furnished by the following fact:—A few days after the receipt of the
      letter which announced my dismissal I received a note from Duroc; but, to
      afford an idea of the petty revenge of him who caused it to be written, it
      will be necessary first to relate a few preceding circumstances.
    
If any evidence of the First Consul's evil intentions were needed, it would be provided by the following fact: A few days after I got the letter announcing my dismissal, I received a note from Duroc. However, to give you an idea of the petty revenge of the person who had it written, I need to first share a few earlier circumstances.







      When, with the view of preserving a little freedom, I declined the offer
      of apartments which Madame Bonaparte had prepared at Malmaison for myself
      and my family, I purchased a small house at Ruel: the First Consul had
      given orders for the furnishing of this house, as well as one which I
      possessed in Paris. From the manner in which the orders were given I had
      not the slightest doubt but that Bonaparte intended to make me a present
      of the furniture. However, when I left his service he applied to have it
      returned. As at first I paid no attention to his demand, as far as it
      concerned the furniture at Ruel, he directed Duroc to write the following
      letter to me:
    
When, in an effort to keep some freedom, I turned down the apartments that Madame Bonaparte had set up for my family and me at Malmaison, I bought a small house in Ruel. The First Consul had ordered furniture for this house, as well as for the one I owned in Paris. From how the orders were placed, I was completely sure that Bonaparte meant to gift me the furniture. However, when I left his service, he requested it back. Since I initially ignored his request regarding the furniture at Ruel, he instructed Duroc to write me the following letter:






   The First Consul, my dear Bourrienne, has just ordered me to send
   him this evening the keys of your residence in Paris, from which the
   furniture is not to be removed.

   He also directs me to put into a warehouse whatever furniture you
   may have at Ruel or elsewhere which you have obtained from
   Government.

   I beg of you to send me an answer, so as to assist me in the
   execution of these orders. You promised me to have everything
   settled before the First Consul's return. I must excuse myself in
   the best way I can.
                  (Signed) DUROC.

   24 Brumaire, an X.
   (15th November 1802.)

   The First Consul, my dear Bourrienne, has just instructed me to send him the keys to your place in Paris this evening, and the furniture shouldn't be removed.

   He also wants me to store any furniture you might have at Ruel or anywhere else that you got from the Government.

   Please send me a response so I can follow these orders. You assured me everything would be sorted out before the First Consul's return. I need to excuse myself as best as I can.
                  (Signed) DUROC.

   24 Brumaire, an X.
   (15th November 1802.)







      Believing myself to be master of my own actions, I had formed the design
      of visiting England, whither I was called by some private business.
      However, I was fully aware of the peculiarity of my situation, and I was
      resolved to take no step that should in any way justify a reproach.
    
Believing I was in control of my own actions, I planned to visit England for some personal matters. However, I was fully aware of the uniqueness of my situation, and I was determined not to take any steps that could lead to any criticism.







      On the 11th of January I therefore wrote to Duroc:
    
On January 11th, I then wrote to Duroc:






   My affairs require my presence in England for some time. I beg of
   you, my dear Duroc, to mention my intended journey to the First
   Consul, as I do not wish to do anything inconsistent with his views.
   I would rather sacrifice my own interest than displease him. I rely
   on your friendship for an early answer to this, for uncertainty
   would be fatal to me in many respects.

   My business requires me to be in England for a while. I kindly ask you, my dear Duroc, to inform the First Consul about my planned trip, as I want to make sure I'm aligned with his views. I would prefer to give up my own interests than to upset him. I appreciate your friendship and hope for a prompt reply to this, as uncertainty would be really detrimental to me in many ways.







      The answer, which speedily arrived, was as follows:—
    
The answer, which came quickly, was:—






   MY DEAR BOURRIENNE—I have presented to the First Consul the letter
   I just received from you. He read it, and said, "No!"

   That is the only answer I can give you. (Signed) DUROC.

   MY DEAR BOURRIENNE—I showed the letter I just got from you to the First Consul. He read it and said, "No!"

   That's all I can tell you. (Signed) DUROC.







      This monosyllable was expressive. It proved to me that Bonaparte was
      conscious how ill he had treated me; and, suspecting that I was actuated
      by the desire of vengeance, he was afraid of my going to England, lest I
      should there take advantage of that liberty of the press which he had so
      effectually put down in France. He probably imagined that my object was to
      publish statements which would more effectually have enlightened the
      public respecting his government and designs than all the scandalous
      anecdotes, atrocious calumnies, and ridiculous fabrications of Pelletier,
      the editor of the 'Ambigu'. But Bonaparte was much deceived in this
      supposition; and if there can remain any doubt on that subject, it will be
      removed on referring to the date of these Memoirs, and observing the time
      at which I consented to publish them.
    
This one-syllable word was very telling. It showed me that Bonaparte knew how badly he had treated me; and, thinking I might want revenge, he was afraid I would go to England, where I could take advantage of the freedom of the press that he had so effectively suppressed in France. He probably thought I aimed to publish information that would have better informed the public about his government and plans than all the scandalous stories, outrageous lies, and ridiculous fabrications of Pelletier, the editor of the 'Ambigu'. But Bonaparte was greatly mistaken in this belief; and if there's any doubt about that, it will be cleared up by looking at the date of these Memoirs and seeing when I agreed to publish them.







      I was not deceived as to the reasons of Bonaparte's unceremonious refusal
      of my application; and as I well knew his inquisitorial character, I
      thought it prudent to conceal my notes. I acted differently from Camoens.
      He contended with the sea to preserve his manuscripts; I made the earth
      the depository of mine. I carefully enclosed my most valuable notes and
      papers in a tin box, which I buried under ground. A yellow tinge, the
      commencement of decay, has in some places almost obliterated the writing.
    
I wasn't fooled about why Bonaparte denied my request so abruptly, and knowing his nosy nature, I figured it was wise to hide my notes. I took a different approach than Camoens. He battled the sea to save his manuscripts; I entrusted mine to the earth. I carefully placed my most important notes and documents in a tin box and buried it underground. In some areas, a yellow discoloration, the start of decay, has nearly wiped out the writing.







      It will be seen in the sequel that my precaution was not useless, and that
      I was right in anticipating the persecution of Bonaparte, provoked by the
      malice of my enemies. On the 20th of April Duroc sent me the following
      note:
    
It will be clear later that my caution wasn't in vain, and that I was correct in expecting Bonaparte's backlash, triggered by the spite of my foes. On April 20th, Duroc sent me this note:






   I beg, my dear Bourrienne, that you will come to St. Cloud this
   morning. I have something to tell you on the part of the First
   Consul.
                  (Signed) DUROC.

   I kindly ask you, my dear Bourrienne, to come to St. Cloud this morning. I have something to share with you on behalf of the First Consul.
                  (Signed) DUROC.







      This note caused me much anxiety. I could not doubt but that my enemies
      had invented some new calumny; but I must say that I did not expect such
      baseness as I experienced.
    
This message filled me with a lot of anxiety. I had no doubt that my enemies had come up with some new lie; but I have to admit that I didn't expect the level of treachery I encountered.







      As soon as Duroc had made me acquainted with the business which the First
      Consul had directed him to communicate, I wrote on the spot the subjoined
      letter to Bonaparte:
    
As soon as Duroc filled me in on the task that the First Consul had asked him to relay, I immediately wrote the following letter to Bonaparte:






   At General Duroc's desire I have this moment waited upon him, and he
   informs me that you have received notice that a deficit of 100,000
   francs has been discovered in the Treasury of the Navy, which you
   require me to refund this day at noon.

   Citizen First Consul, I know not what this means! I am utterly
   ignorant of the matter. I solemnly declare to you that this charge
   is a most infamous calumny. It is one more to be added to the
   number of those malicious charges which have been invented for the
   purpose of destroying any influence I might possess with you.

   I am in General Duroc's apartment, where I await your orders.

At General Duroc's request, I have just met with him, and he informs me that you have been notified of a 100,000 franc deficit found in the Navy Treasury, which you expect me to repay by noon today.

Citizen First Consul, I have no idea what this means! I am completely unaware of the situation. I sincerely declare that this accusation is a disgusting falsehood. It’s yet another malicious claim created to undermine any influence I might have with you.

I am in General Duroc's room, waiting for your instructions.







      Duroc carried my note to the First Consul as soon as it was written. He
      speedily returned. "All's right!" said he. "He has directed me to say it
      was entirely a mistake!—that he is now convinced he was deceived!
      that he is sorry for the business, and hopes no more will be said about
      it."
    
Duroc took my note to the First Consul as soon as I finished writing it. He quickly came back. "Everything's good!" he said. "He told me to say it was all a mistake!—that he's now sure he was misled! He's sorry about the whole situation and hopes there's no more talk about it."







      The base flatterers who surrounded Bonaparte wished him to renew his
      Egyptian extortions upon me; but they should have recollected that the
      fusillade employed in Egypt for the purpose of raising money was no longer
      the fashion in France, and that the days were gone by when it was the
      custom to 'grease the wheels of the revolutionary car.'
    
The sycophants around Bonaparte wanted him to revive his money-making schemes from Egypt against me; but they should have remembered that the gunfire used in Egypt for raising funds was out of style in France, and that the days were over when it was customary to 'grease the wheels of the revolutionary car.'








 


 




















      CHAPTER XVII.
    



      1803.
    
1803.


   The First Consul's presentiments respecting the duration of peace—
   England's uneasiness at the prosperity of France—Bonaparte's real
   wish for war—Concourse of foreigners in Paris—Bad faith of
   England—Bonaparte and Lord Whitworth—Relative position of France
   and England-Bonaparte's journey to the seaboard departments—
   Breakfast at Compiegne—Father Berton—Irritation excited by the
   presence of Bouquet—Father Berton's derangement and death—Rapp
   ordered to send for me—Order countermanded.

   The First Consul's feelings about how long peace would last—England's anxiety over France's success—Bonaparte's true desire for war—The influx of foreigners in Paris—England's dishonesty—Bonaparte and Lord Whitworth—The relationship between France and England—Bonaparte's trip to the coastal regions—Breakfast at Compiegne—Father Berton—Tension caused by Bouquet's presence—Father Berton's mental breakdown and death—Rapp was instructed to call for me—Order canceled.







      The First Consul never anticipated a long peace with England. He wished
      for peace merely because, knowing it to be ardently desired by the people,
      after ten years of war he thought it would increase his popularity and
      afford him the opportunity of laying the foundation of his government.
      Peace was as necessary to enable him to conquer the throne of France as
      war was essential to secure it, and to enlarge its base at the expense of
      the other thrones of Europe. This was the secret of the peace of Amiens,
      and of the rupture which so suddenly followed, though that rupture
      certainly took place sooner than the First Consul wished. On the great
      questions of peace and war Bonaparte entertained elevated ideas; but in
      discussions on the subject he always declared himself in favour of war.
      When told of the necessities of the people, of the advantages of peace,
      its influence on trade, the arts, national industry, and every branch of
      public prosperity, he did not attempt to deny the argument; indeed, he
      concurred in it; but he remarked, that all those advantages were only
      conditional, so long as England was able to throw the weight of her navy
      into the scale of the world, and to exercise the influence of her gold in
      all the Cabinets of Europe. Peace must be broken; since it was evident
      that England was determined to break it. Why not anticipate her? Why allow
      her to have all the advantages of the first step? We must astonish Europe!
      We must thwart the policy of the Continent! We must strike a great and
      unexpected blow. Thus reasoned the First Consul, and every one may judge
      whether his actions agreed with his sentiments.
    
The First Consul never expected a lasting peace with England. He wanted peace simply because he knew the people craved it, and after ten years of war, he thought it would boost his popularity and help him establish his government. Peace was just as crucial for him to conquer the throne of France as war was to secure it and expand its influence at the expense of other European thrones. This was the secret behind the peace of Amiens and the sudden breakdown that followed, although that breakdown happened sooner than the First Consul wanted. Bonaparte had high ideals about war and peace; however, in discussions about it, he always favored war. When he heard about the people's needs, the benefits of peace, its impact on trade, the arts, national industry, and every area of public prosperity, he didn't deny those points; in fact, he agreed with them. But he pointed out that all those benefits were only conditional as long as England could use her navy to sway global affairs and exert her economic influence in all the European Cabinets. Peace had to be broken because it was clear that England was set on breaking it. Why not strike first? Why let her take all the advantages of starting? We must surprise Europe! We must counter the Continent's policies! We must deliver a major and unexpected blow. That was how the First Consul reasoned, and everyone can judge whether his actions matched his thoughts.







      The conduct of England too well justified the foresight of Bonaparte's
      policy; or rather England, by neglecting to execute her treaties, played
      into Bonaparte's hand, favoured his love for war, and justified the prompt
      declaration of hostilities in the eyes of the French nation, whom he
      wished to persuade that if peace were broken it would be against his
      wishes. England was already at work with the powerful machinery of her
      subsidies, and the veil beneath which she attempted to conceal her
      negotiations was still sufficiently transparent for the lynx eye of the
      First Consul. It was in the midst of peace that all those plots were
      hatched, while millions who had no knowledge of their existence were
      securely looking forward to uninterrupted repose.
    
England's actions proved Bonaparte's foresight right; in fact, by failing to honor her treaties, England played right into Bonaparte's hands, fueling his desire for war and justifying his quick declaration of hostilities to the French people, whom he aimed to convince that if peace were broken, it wouldn't be his doing. England was already maneuvering with the strong resources of her subsidies, and the attempts she made to hide her negotiations were still obvious enough for the sharp eyes of the First Consul. It was during a time of peace that all these plots were created, while millions, unaware of their existence, looked forward to a peaceful future.







      Since the Revolution Paris had never presented such a spectacle as during
      the winter of 1802-3. At that time the concourse of foreigners in the
      French capital was immense. Everything wore the appearance of
      satisfaction, and the external signs of public prosperity. The visible
      regeneration in French society exceedingly annoyed the British Ministry.
      The English who flocked to the Continent discovered France to be very
      different from what she was described to be by the English papers. This
      caused serious alarm on the other side of the Channel, and the English
      Government endeavoured by unjust complaints to divert attention from just
      dissatisfaction, which its own secret intrigues excited. The King of
      England sent a message to Parliament, in which he spoke of armaments
      preparing in the ports of France, and of the necessity of adopting
      precautions against meditated aggressions. This instance of bad faith
      highly irritated the First Consul, who one day, in a fit of displeasure,
      thus addressed Lord Whitworth in the salon, where all the foreign
      Ambassadors were assembled:
    
Since the Revolution, Paris had never shown such a scene as it did during the winter of 1802-3. At that time, the number of foreigners in the French capital was huge. Everything seemed to reflect satisfaction and the visible signs of public prosperity. The noticeable revival in French society greatly irritated the British government. The English who traveled to the continent found France to be very different from how it was portrayed in English newspapers. This created serious concern on the other side of the Channel, prompting the English government to send out unjust complaints to distract from the legitimate dissatisfaction caused by its own secret schemes. The King of England sent a message to Parliament mentioning the armaments being prepared in French ports and the need to take precautions against potential attacks. This act of deceit infuriated the First Consul, who one day, in a moment of anger, addressed Lord Whitworth in the salon where all the foreign Ambassadors were gathered:







      "What is the meaning of this? Are you then tired of peace? Must Europe
      again be deluged with blood? Preparations for war indeed! Do you think to
      overawe us by this? You shall see that France may be conquered, perhaps
      destroyed, but never intimidated—never!"
    
"What does this mean? Are you tired of peace? Must Europe be flooded with blood again? Preparations for war, really? Do you think this will scare us? You'll see that France can be conquered, maybe even destroyed, but never intimidated—never!"







      The English Ambassador was astounded at this unexpected sally, to which he
      made no reply. He contented himself with writing to his Government an
      account of an interview in which the First Consul had so far forgotten
      himself,-whether purposely or not I do not pretend to say.
    
The English Ambassador was shocked by this unexpected outburst, and he didn’t respond. Instead, he wrote to his government about an interview where the First Consul had so completely lost his composure—whether on purpose or not, I won’t say.







      That England wished for war there could be no doubt. She occupied Malta,
      it is true, but she had promised to give it up, though she never had any
      intention of doing so. She was to have evacuated Egypt, yet there she
      still remained; the Cape of Good Hope was to have been surrendered, but
      she still retained possession of it. England had signed, at Amiens, a
      peace which she had no intention of maintaining. She knew the hatred of
      the Cabinets of Europe towards France, and she was sure, by her intrigues
      and subsidies, of arming them on her side whenever her plans reached
      maturity. She saw France powerful and influential in Europe, and she knew
      the ambitious views of the First Consul, who, indeed, had taken little
      pains to conceal them.
    
There was no doubt that England wanted war. She occupied Malta, it’s true, but she had promised to give it back, even though she never intended to. She was supposed to have left Egypt, yet she was still there; the Cape of Good Hope was meant to be handed over, but she still held onto it. England had signed a peace treaty in Amiens that she had no intention of keeping. She understood the animosity the European powers felt towards France, and she was confident that, through her schemes and funding, she could get them on her side when her plans came to fruition. She saw France becoming powerful and influential in Europe, and she was aware of the ambitious goals of the First Consul, who hadn’t bothered to hide them.







      The First Consul, who had reckoned on a longer duration of the peace of
      Amiens, found himself at the rupture of the treaty in an embarrassing
      situation. The numerous grants of furloughs, the deplorable condition of
      the cavalry, and the temporary absence of artillery, in consequence of a
      project for refounding all the field-pieces, caused much anxiety to
      Bonaparte. He had recourse to the conscription to fill up the deficiencies
      of the army; and the project of refounding the artillery was abandoned.
      Supplies of money were obtained from the large towns, and Hanover, which
      was soon after occupied, furnished abundance of good horses for mounting
      the cavalry.
    
The First Consul, who had expected the peace of Amiens to last longer, found himself in a difficult position when the treaty fell apart. The many granted leaves, the poor state of the cavalry, and the temporary absence of artillery due to a plan to rebuild all the field-pieces caused Bonaparte a lot of worry. He turned to conscription to make up for the army's shortcomings, and the plan to rebuild the artillery was dropped. Funds were raised from the major cities, and Hanover, which was soon occupied, provided plenty of good horses for the cavalry.







      War had now become inevitable; and as soon as it was declared the First
      Consul set out to visit Belgium and the seaboard departments to ascertain
      the best means of resisting the anticipated attacks of the English. In
      passing through Compiegne he received a visit from Father Berton, formerly
      principal of the military school of Brienne. He was then rector of the
      school of arts at Compiegne, a situation in which he had been placed by
      Bonaparte. I learned the particulars of this visit through Josephine.
      Father Berton, whose primitive simplicity of manner was unchanged since
      the time when he held us under the authority of his ferule, came to invite
      Bonaparte and Josephine to breakfast with him, which invitation was
      accepted. Father Berton had at that time living with him one of our old
      comrades of Brienne, named Bouquet; but he expressly forbade him to show
      himself to Bonaparte or any one of his suite, because Bouquet, who had
      been a commissary at headquarters in Italy, was in disgrace with the First
      Consul. Bouquet promised to observe Father Berton's injunctions, but was
      far from keeping his promise. As soon as he saw Bonaparte's carriage drive
      up, he ran to the door and gallantly handed out Josephine. Josephine, as
      she took his hand, said, "Bouquet,—you have ruined yourself!"
      Bonaparte, indignant at what he considered an unwarrantable familiarity,
      gave way to one of his uncontrollable fits of passion, and as soon as he
      entered the room where the breakfast was laid, he seated himself, and then
      said to his wife in an imperious tone, "Josephine, sit there!" He then
      commenced breakfast, without telling Father Becton to sit down, although a
      third plate had been laid for him. Father Becton stood behind his old
      pupil's chair apparently confounded at his violence. The scene produced
      such an effect on the old man that he became incapable of discharging his
      duties at Compiegne. He retired to Rheims, and his intellect soon after
      became deranged. I do not pretend to say whether this alienation of mind
      was caused by the occurrence I have just related, and the account of which
      I received from Josephine. She was deeply afflicted at what had passed.
      Father Berton died insane. What I heard from Josephine was afterwards
      confirmed by the brother of Father Becton. The fact is, that in proportion
      as Bonaparte acquired power he was the more annoyed at the familiarity of
      old companions; and, indeed, I must confess that their familiarity often
      appeared very ridiculous.
    
War was now unavoidable; and as soon as it was declared, the First Consul left to visit Belgium and the coastal departments to find the best ways to fend off the expected attacks from the English. While passing through Compiegne, he received a visit from Father Berton, who had previously been the head of the military school at Brienne. He was now the rector of the arts school in Compiegne, a position he had been given by Bonaparte. I learned the details of this visit from Josephine. Father Berton, whose straightforward manner hadn’t changed since the time he had us under his discipline, came to invite Bonaparte and Josephine to breakfast, which they accepted. At that time, Father Berton had one of our old school friends from Brienne, named Bouquet, living with him; but he specifically instructed Bouquet not to show himself to Bonaparte or anyone in his entourage because Bouquet, who had been a commissary at headquarters in Italy, was out of favor with the First Consul. Bouquet promised to follow Father Berton's orders but did not keep his word. As soon as he saw Bonaparte's carriage arrive, he dashed to the door and gallantly helped Josephine out. Josephine, taking his hand, said, "Bouquet—you’ve just ruined yourself!" Bonaparte, angry at what he saw as an unacceptable familiarity, lost his temper uncontrollably. Once inside the room where breakfast was set, he took a seat and then told his wife in an authoritative tone, "Josephine, sit there!" He began eating without inviting Father Berton to sit down, even though a third plate had been set for him. Father Berton stood behind his former pupil's chair, clearly shocked by his outburst. The incident affected the old man so deeply that he became unable to perform his duties in Compiegne. He left for Rheims, and not long after, his mind began to unravel. I can't say if this mental breakdown was caused by the event I just described, and which I heard about from Josephine. She was quite upset by what had happened. Father Berton eventually died insane. What I learned from Josephine was later confirmed by Father Berton’s brother. The truth is that as Bonaparte gained power, he was increasingly irritated by the familiarity of his old friends; and honestly, I have to admit that their familiarity often seemed quite absurd.







      The First Consul's visit to the northern coast took place towards the end
      of the year 1803, at which time the English attacked the Dutch settlements
      of Surinam, Demerara, and Essequibo, and a convention of neutrality was
      concluded between France, Spain, and Portugal. Rapp accompanied the First
      Consul, who attentively inspected the preparations making for a descent on
      England, which it was never his intention to effect, as will be shortly
      shown.
    
The First Consul's visit to the northern coast happened toward the end of 1803, when the English attacked the Dutch settlements of Surinam, Demerara, and Essequibo, and a neutrality agreement was reached between France, Spain, and Portugal. Rapp went along with the First Consul, who carefully looked over the preparations for an invasion of England, which he never actually planned to carry out, as will soon be explained.







      On the First Consul's return I learned from Rapp that I had been spoken of
      during the journey, and in the following way:—Bonaparte, being at
      Boulogne, wanted some information which no one there could give, him.
      Vexed at receiving no satisfactory answer to his inquiries he called Rapp,
      and said, "Do you know, Rapp, where Bourrienne is?"—"General, he is
      in Paris."—"Write to him to come here immediately, and send off one
      of my couriers with the letter." The rumour of the First Consul's sudden
      recollection of me spread like lightning, and the time required to write
      the letter and despatch the courier was more than sufficient for the
      efforts of those whom my return was calculated to alarm. Artful
      representations soon checked these spontaneous symptoms of a return to
      former feelings and habits. When Rapp carried to the First Consul the
      letter he had been directed to write the order was countermanded. However,
      Rapp advised me not to leave Paris, or if I did, to mention the place
      where I might be found, so that Duroc might have it in his power to seize
      on any favourable circumstance without delay. I was well aware of the
      friendship of both Rapp and Duroc, and they could as confidently rely on
      mine.
    
On the First Consul's return, I learned from Rapp that I had come up in conversation during the journey, and it went like this: Bonaparte, while in Boulogne, needed some information that no one there could provide him. Frustrated by the lack of a satisfactory answer to his questions, he called Rapp and said, "Do you know, Rapp, where Bourrienne is?"—"General, he is in Paris."—"Write to him to come here immediately, and send one of my couriers with the letter." The news of the First Consul's sudden recollection of me spread quickly, and the time it took to write the letter and send off the courier was long enough for those threatened by my return to act. Clever attempts soon dampened those spontaneous signs of a revival of old feelings and habits. When Rapp delivered the letter he had been instructed to write to the First Consul, the order was canceled. However, Rapp advised me not to leave Paris, or if I did, to let them know where I could be found, so Duroc could act on any favorable situation without delay. I was well aware of the friendship between Rapp and Duroc, and they could trust mine just as much.








 


 




















      CHAPTER XVIII.
    



      1803.
    
1803.


   Vast works undertaken—The French and the Roman soldiers—Itinerary
   of Bonaparte's journeys to the coast—Twelve hours on horseback—
   Discussions in Council—Opposition of Truguet—Bonaparte'a opinion
   on the point under discussion—Two divisions of the world—Europe a
   province—Bonaparte's jealousy of the dignity of France—The
   Englishman in the dockyard of Brest—Public audience at the
   Tuilleries—The First Consul's remarks upon England—His wish to
   enjoy the good opinion of the English people—Ball at Malmaison—
   Lines on Hortense's dancing—Singular motive for giving the ball.

   Vast projects undertaken—The French and the Roman soldiers—Itinerary
   of Bonaparte's trips to the coast—Twelve hours on horseback—
   Discussions in Council—Opposition from Truguet—Bonaparte's opinion
   on the matter being discussed—Two divisions of the world—Europe a
   province—Bonaparte's jealousy of France's dignity—The Englishman in the dockyard of Brest—Public audience at the
   Tuileries—The First Consul's comments on England—His desire to earn the goodwill of the English people—Ball at Malmaison—
   Lines about Hortense's dancing—Unusual reason for hosting the ball.







      At the time of the rupture with England Bonaparte was, as I have
      mentioned, quite unprepared in most branches of the service; yet
      everything was created as if by magic, and he seemed to impart to others a
      share of his own incredible activity. It is inconceivable how many things
      had been undertaken and executed since the rupture of the peace. The north
      coast of France presented the appearance of one vast arsenal; for
      Bonaparte on this occasion employed his troops like Roman soldiers, and
      made the tools of the artisan succeed to the arms of the warrior.
    
At the time of the break with England, Bonaparte was, as I mentioned, pretty unprepared in most areas of the military; yet everything seemed to come together as if by magic, and he appeared to pass on some of his incredible energy to others. It's hard to believe how many tasks had been started and completed since the peace was broken. The northern coast of France looked like one huge arsenal; Bonaparte used his troops like Roman soldiers and turned the tools of craftsmen into the weapons of warriors.







      On his frequent journeys to the coast Bonaparte usually set off at night,
      and on the following morning arrived at the post office of Chantilly,
      where he breakfasted. Rapp, whom I often saw when he was in Paris, talked
      incessantly of these journeys, for he almost always accompanied the First
      Consul, and it would have been well had he always been surrounded by such
      men. In the evening the First Consul supped at Abbeville, and arrived
      early next day at the bridge of Brique. "It would require constitutions of
      iron to go through what we do," said Rapp. "We no sooner alight from the
      carriage than we mount on horseback, and sometimes remain in our saddles
      for ten or twelve hours successively. The First Consul inspects and
      examines everything, often talks with the soldiers. How he is beloved by
      them! When shall we pay a visit to London with those brave fellows?"
    
On his frequent trips to the coast, Bonaparte usually left at night and arrived at the post office in Chantilly the next morning, where he had breakfast. Rapp, whom I often saw when he was in Paris, never stopped talking about these trips because he almost always joined the First Consul, and it would have been better if he had always been around such men. In the evening, the First Consul had dinner in Abbeville and arrived early the next day at the bridge of Brique. "It would take iron wills to endure what we go through," said Rapp. "As soon as we get out of the carriage, we get back on horseback, and sometimes we stay in the saddle for ten or twelve hours straight. The First Consul inspects and reviews everything and often chats with the soldiers. They love him so much! When are we going to visit London with those brave guys?"







      Notwithstanding these continual journeys the First Consul never neglected
      any of the business of government, and was frequently present at the
      deliberations of the Council. I was still with him when the question as to
      the manner in which the treaties of peace should be concluded came under
      the consideration of the Council. Some members, among whom Truguet was
      conspicuous, were of opinion that, conformably with an article of the
      Constitution, the treaties should be proposed by the Head of the
      Government, submitted to the Legislative Body, and after being agreed to
      promulgated as part of the laws. Bonaparte thought differently. I was
      entirely of his opinion, and he said to me, "It is for the mere pleasure
      of opposition that they appeal to the Constitution, for if the
      Constitution says so it is absurd. There are some things which cannot
      become the subject of discussion in a public assembly; for instance, if I
      treat with Austria, and my Ambassador agrees to certain conditions, can
      those conditions be rejected by the Legislative Body? It is a monstrous
      absurdity! Things would be brought to a fine pass in this way! Lucchesini
      and Markow would give dinners every day like Cambacérès; scatter their
      money about, buy men who are to be sold, and thus cause our propositions
      to be rejected. This would be a fine way to manage matters!"
    
Despite these ongoing trips, the First Consul never neglected his government duties and often participated in the Council's discussions. I was still with him when the topic of how to conclude the peace treaties came up in the Council. Some members, including Truguet, argued that according to a provision in the Constitution, the treaties should be proposed by the Head of Government, presented to the Legislative Body, and then announced as part of the laws once agreed upon. Bonaparte disagreed. I completely shared his view, and he told me, "They're only appealing to the Constitution out of sheer contrariness; if the Constitution says that, it’s ridiculous. There are matters that shouldn’t even be discussed in a public assembly; for example, if I negotiate with Austria and my Ambassador agrees to certain terms, can those terms be overturned by the Legislative Body? That’s an absurdity! Things would spiral out of control this way! Lucchesini and Markow would throw lavish dinners like Cambacérès; they'd spread their wealth around, buy off people, and get our proposals rejected. That would be a terrible way to conduct business!"







      When Bonaparte, according to his custom, talked to me in the evening of
      what had passed in the Council, his language was always composed of a
      singular mixture of quotations from antiquity, historical references, and
      his own ideas. He talked about the Romans, and I remember when Mr. Fox was
      at Paris that he tried to distinguish himself before that Foreign
      Minister, whom he greatly esteemed. In his enlarged way of viewing the
      world Bonaparte divided it into two large states, the East and the West:
      "What matters," he would often say, "that two countries are separated by
      rivers or mountains, that they speak different languages? With very slight
      shades of variety France, Spain, England, Italy, and Germany, have the
      same manners and customs, the same religion, and the same dress. In them a
      man can only marry one wife; slavery is not allowed; and these are the
      great distinctions which divide the civilised inhabitants of the globe.
      With the exception of Turkey, Europe is merely a province of the world,
      and our warfare is but civil strife. There is also another way of dividing
      nations, namely, by land and water." Then he would touch on all the
      European interests, speak of Russia, whose alliance he wished for, and of
      England, the mistress of the seas. He usually ended by alluding to what
      was then his favourite scheme—an expedition to India.
    
When Bonaparte, as usual, spoke to me in the evening about what had happened in the Council, his words were always a unique blend of quotes from ancient times, historical references, and his own thoughts. He talked about the Romans, and I remember when Mr. Fox was in Paris, he tried to impress that Foreign Minister, whom he admired greatly. In his broad view of the world, Bonaparte split it into two main parts: the East and the West. "What does it matter," he would often say, "if two countries are separated by rivers or mountains, or if they speak different languages? With only slight differences, France, Spain, England, Italy, and Germany share the same customs, religion, and clothing. In these places, a man can only have one wife; slavery is not permitted; and these are the major differences that separate the civilized people of the world. Except for Turkey, Europe is just a region of the world, and our conflicts are merely civil wars. There’s also another way to categorize nations: by land and water." He would then touch on all the European interests, discuss Russia, whose alliance he sought, and England, the ruler of the seas. He usually wrapped up by mentioning what was his pet project at the time—an expedition to India.







      When from these general topics Bonaparte descended to the particular
      interests of France, he still spoke like a sovereign; and I may truly say
      that he showed himself more jealous than any sovereign ever was of the
      dignity of France, of which he already considered himself the sole
      representative. Having learned that a captain of the English navy had
      visited the dockyard of Brest passing himself off as a merchant, whose
      passport he had borrowed, he flew into a rage because no one had ventured
      to arrest him.—[see James' Naval History for an account of Sir
      Sidney Smith's daring exploit.]—Nothing was lost on Bonaparte, and
      he made use of this fact to prove to the Council of State the necessity of
      increasing the number of commissary-generals of police. At a meeting of
      the Council he said, "If there had been a commissary of police at Brest he
      would have arrested the English captain and sent him at once to Paris. As
      he was acting the part of a spy I would have had him shot as such. No
      Englishman, not even a nobleman, or the English Ambassador, should be
      admitted into our dockyards. I will soon regulate all this." He afterwards
      said to me, "There are plenty of wretches who are selling me every day to
      the English without my being subjected to English spying."
    
When Bonaparte shifted from general topics to specific issues concerning France, he still spoke like a ruler; I can honestly say he was more protective than any ruler ever was about the dignity of France, of which he already viewed himself as the sole representative. When he found out that an English naval captain had visited the Brest dockyard pretending to be a merchant, using a passport he had borrowed, he became furious because no one had dared to arrest him. —[see James' Naval History for an account of Sir Sidney Smith's daring exploit.]— Bonaparte missed nothing, and he used this incident to convince the Council of State of the need to increase the number of police commissioners. At a Council meeting, he stated, “If there had been a police commissioner at Brest, he would have arrested the English captain and sent him straight to Paris. Since he was acting as a spy, I would have had him shot as one. No Englishman, not even a nobleman or the English Ambassador, should be allowed in our dockyards. I will sort this out soon.” He later told me, “There are many scoundrels who sell me out to the English every day without me being subjected to English spying.”






 —[During the short and hollow peace of Amiens Bonaparte sent over
   to England as consuls and vice-consuls, a number of engineers and
   military men, who were instructed to make plans of all the harbours
   and coasts of the United Kingdom. They worked in secrecy, yet not
   so secretly but that they were soon suspected: the facts were
   proved, and they were sent out of the country without ceremony.—
   Editor of 1836 edition.]— 
 —[During the brief and empty peace of Amiens, Bonaparte sent several engineers and military personnel to England as consuls and vice-consuls. Their task was to create maps of all the harbors and coastlines of the United Kingdom. They operated in secret, but not so secretly that they didn't raise suspicion. Eventually, their activities were discovered, and they were expelled from the country without any formalities.— Editor of 1836 edition.]—







      He had on one occasion said before an assemblage of generals, senators,
      and high officers of State, who were at an audience of the Diplomatic
      Body, "The English think that I am afraid of war, but I am not." And here
      the truth escaped him, in spite of himself. "My power will lose nothing by
      war. In a very short time I can have 2,000,000 of men at my disposal. What
      has been the result of the first war? The union of Belgium and Piedmont to
      France. This is greatly to our advantage; it will consolidate our system.
      France shall not be restrained by foreign fetters. England has manifestly
      violated the treaties! It would be better to render homage to the King of
      England, and crown him King of France at Paris, than to submit to the
      insolent caprices of the English Government. If, for the sake of
      preserving peace, at most for only two months longer, I should yield on a
      single point, the English would become the more treacherous and insolent,
      and would enact the more in proportion as we yield. But they little know
      me! Were we to yield to England now, she would next prohibit our
      navigation in certain parts of the world. She would insist on the
      surrender of our ships. I know not what she would not demand; but I am not
      the man to brook such indignities. Since England wishes for war she shall
      have it, and that speedily!"
    
He once said in front of a group of generals, senators, and high-ranking government officials who were attending a meeting with the Diplomatic Body, "The English think I’m afraid of war, but I’m not." And in that moment, the truth slipped out, despite his efforts to hide it. "My power won’t diminish because of war. In no time, I can command 2,000,000 men. What was the outcome of the last war? The union of Belgium and Piedmont with France. That works in our favor; it will strengthen our position. France won’t be held back by foreign chains. England has clearly violated the treaties! It would be better to pay respect to the King of England and crown him King of France in Paris than to submit to the arrogant whims of the English Government. If, to maintain peace—at most for just two more months—I were to give in on even one point, the English would become even more treacherous and arrogant, demanding more as we comply. But they don’t know me very well! If we yield to England now, next, they’d ban our navigation in certain areas of the world. They’d want the surrender of our ships. Who knows what else they’d demand; but I am not the kind of person who will tolerate such affronts. Since England wants war, they shall have it, and soon!"







      On the same day Bonaparte said a great deal more about the treachery of
      England. The gross calumnies to which he was exposed in the London
      newspapers powerfully contributed to increase his natural hatred of the
      liberty of the press; and he was much astonished that such attacks could
      be made upon him by English subjects when he was at peace with the English
      Government.
    
On the same day, Bonaparte talked a lot more about England's betrayal. The blatant lies he faced in the London newspapers only fueled his natural hatred for freedom of the press. He was quite shocked that English people could launch such attacks against him while he was at peace with the English Government.







      I had one day a singular proof of the importance which Bonaparte attached
      to the opinion of the English people respecting any misconduct that was
      attributed to him. What I am about to state will afford another example of
      Bonaparte's disposition to employ petty and roundabout means to gain his
      ends. He gave a ball at Malmaison when Hortense was in the seventh month
      of her pregnancy.
    
I once experienced a clear demonstration of how much Bonaparte valued the opinions of the English people regarding any wrongdoing attributed to him. What I'm about to describe will provide another example of Bonaparte's tendency to use trivial and indirect methods to achieve his goals. He hosted a ball at Malmaison when Hortense was seven months pregnant.






 —[This refers to the first son of Louis and of Hortense, Napoleon
   Charles, the intended successor of Napoleon, who was born 1802, died
   1807, elder brother of Napoleon III.]— 
—[This refers to the first son of Louis and Hortense, Napoleon Charles, the intended successor of Napoleon, who was born in 1802 and died in 1807, elder brother of Napoleon III.]—







      I have already mentioned that he disliked to see women in that situation,
      and above all could not endure to see them dance. Yet, in spite of this
      antipathy, he himself asked Hortense to dance at the ball at Malmaison.
      She at first declined, but Bonaparte was exceedingly importunate, and said
      to her in a tone of good-humoured persuasion, "Do, I beg of you; I
      particularly wish to see you dance. Come, stand up, to oblige me."
      Hortense at last consented. The motive for this extraordinary request I
      will now explain.
    
I’ve already mentioned that he hated seeing women in that situation, and above all, he couldn't stand watching them dance. Yet, despite this dislike, he actually asked Hortense to dance at the ball at Malmaison. At first, she refused, but Bonaparte was very persistent and said to her in a friendly, persuasive tone, "Please, I really want to see you dance. Come on, just do it to make me happy." Hortense eventually agreed. I will now explain the reason behind this unusual request.







      On the day after the ball one of the newspapers contained some verses on
      Hortense's dancing. She was exceedingly annoyed at this, and when the
      paper arrived at Malmaison she expressed, displeasure at it. Even allowing
      for all the facility of our newspaper wits, she was nevertheless at a loss
      to understand how the lines could have been written and printed respecting
      a circumstance which only occurred the night before. Bonaparte smiled, and
      gave her no distinct answer. When Hortense knew that I was alone in the
      cabinet she came in and asked me to explain the matter; and seeing no
      reason to conceal the truth, I told her that the lines had been written by
      Bonaparte's direction before the ball took place. I added, what indeed was
      the fact, that the ball had been prepared for the verses, and that it was
      only for the appropriateness of their application that the First Consul
      had pressed her to dance. He adopted this strange contrivance for
      contradicting an article which appeared in an English journal announcing
      that Hortense was delivered. Bonaparte was highly indignant at that
      premature announcement, which he clearly saw was made for the sole purpose
      of giving credit to the scandalous rumours of his imputed connection with
      Hortense. Such were the petty machinations which not unfrequently found
      their place in a mind in which the grandest schemes were revolving.
    
The day after the ball, one of the newspapers featured some verses about Hortense's dancing. She was really annoyed by this, and when the paper arrived at Malmaison, she voiced her displeasure. Even considering how easily our newspaper writers come up with things, she still couldn't figure out how those lines were written and printed about an event that had just happened the night before. Bonaparte smiled and didn't give her a clear answer. When Hortense learned I was alone in the office, she came in and asked me to explain the situation; seeing no reason to hide the truth, I told her that Bonaparte had instructed the lines to be written before the ball took place. I added, which was indeed the case, that the ball had been arranged for the verses, and that the First Consul had urged her to dance mainly for their relevance. He came up with this odd plan to counter an article that had appeared in an English journal claiming that Hortense had given birth. Bonaparte was extremely angry about that premature announcement, which he clearly recognized was intended solely to support the scandalous rumors about his alleged connection with Hortense. Such were the petty plots that often occupied a mind that was simultaneously working on grand schemes.








 


 




















      CHAPTER XIX.
    



      1803.
    
1803.


   Mr. Pitt—Motive of his going out of office—Error of the English
   Government—Pretended regard for the Bourbons—Violation of the
   treaty of Amiens—Reciprocal accusations—Malta—Lord Whitworth's
   departure—Rome and Carthage—Secret satisfaction of Bonaparte—
   Message to the Senate, the Legislative Body, and the Tribunate—
   The King of England's renunciation of the title of King of France—
   Complaints of the English Government—French agents in British ports
   —Views of France upon Turkey—Observation made by Bonaparte to the
   Legislative Body—Its false interpretation—Conquest of Hanover—
   The Duke of Cambridge caricatured—The King of England and the
   Elector of Hanover—First address to the clergy—Use of the word
   "Monsieur"—The Republican weeks and months.

   Mr. Pitt—Reason for stepping down—Mistake of the English Government—Fake support for the Bourbons—Breaking the treaty of Amiens—Mutual accusations—Malta—Lord Whitworth’s exit—Rome and Carthage—Hidden delight of Bonaparte—Message to the Senate, the Legislative Body, and the Tribunate—The King of England’s giving up the title of King of France—Complaints from the English Government—French agents in British ports—France's intentions toward Turkey—Comment made by Bonaparte to the Legislative Body—Its misinterpretation—Conquest of Hanover—The Duke of Cambridge mocked—The King of England and the Elector of Hanover—First address to the clergy—Use of the term “Monsieur”—The Republican weeks and months.







      One of the circumstances which foretold the brief duration of the peace of
      Amiens was, that Mr. Pitt was out of office at the time of its conclusion.
      I mentioned this to Bonaparte, and I immediately perceived by his hasty
      "What do you say?" that my observation had been heard—but not liked.
      It did not, however, require any extraordinary shrewdness to see the true
      motive of Mr. Pitt's retirement. That distinguished statesman conceived
      that a truce under the name of a peace was indispensable for England; but,
      intending to resume the war with France more fiercely than ever, he for a
      while retired from office, and left to others the task of arranging the
      peace; but his intention was to mark his return to the ministry by the
      renewal of the implacable hatred he had vowed against France. Still, I
      have always thought that the conclusion of peace, however necessary to
      England, was an error of the Cabinet of London. England alone had never
      before acknowledged any of the governments which had risen up in France
      since the Revolution; and as the past could not be blotted out, a future
      war, however successful to England, could not take from Bonaparte's
      Government the immense weight it had acquired by an interval of peace.
      Besides, by the mere fact of the conclusion of the treaty England proved
      to all Europe that the restoration of the Bourbons was merely a pretext,
      and she defaced that page of her history which might have shown that she
      was actuated by nobler and more generous sentiments than mere hatred of
      France. It is very certain that the condescension of England in treating
      with the First Consul had the effect of rallying round him a great many
      partisans of the Bourbons, whose hopes entirely depended on the
      continuance of war between Great Britain and France. This opened the eyes
      of the greater number, namely, those who could not see below the surface,
      and were not previously aware that the demonstrations of friendship so
      liberally made to the Bourbons by the European Cabinets, and especially by
      England, were merely false pretences, assumed for the purpose of
      disguising, beneath the semblance of honourable motives, their wish to
      injure France, and to oppose her rapidly increasing power.
    
One of the reasons that hinted at the short-lived peace of Amiens was that Mr. Pitt was out of office when it was signed. I mentioned this to Bonaparte, and I quickly realized from his hurried "What do you say?" that he had heard my comment—but didn't like it. However, it didn’t take much insight to understand Mr. Pitt's true reasons for stepping down. That notable statesman believed that a pause, disguised as peace, was essential for England; but with the intention of resuming war against France more fiercely than ever, he temporarily stepped back and left others to handle the peace negotiations. His plan was to mark his return to the government by reigniting the fierce animosity he held towards France. Still, I have always thought that establishing peace, while necessary for England, was a mistake by the London Cabinet. England had never before recognized any of the governments that had emerged in France since the Revolution; and since the past couldn't be erased, any future war, no matter how successful for England, wouldn’t diminish the significant influence Bonaparte's government gained during a period of peace. Furthermore, by simply signing the treaty, England showed all of Europe that restoring the Bourbons was just a cover story, and she tarnished that chapter of her history that could have illustrated a commitment to nobler and more honorable principles rather than just hatred towards France. It’s clear that England’s willingness to negotiate with the First Consul led many Bourbon supporters to rally around him, whose hopes relied entirely on a continued war between Great Britain and France. This opened the eyes of many who couldn’t see beyond the surface and weren’t previously aware that the friendly gestures shown to the Bourbons by European governments, particularly by England, were merely facades designed to mask their true aim of undermining France and countering her rapidly growing power.







      When the misunderstanding took place, France and England might have
      mutually reproached each other, but justice was apparently on the side of
      France. It was evident that England, by refusing to evacuate Malta, was
      guilty of a palpable infraction of the treaty of Amiens, while England
      could only institute against France what in the French law language is
      called a suit or process of tendency. But it must be confessed that this
      tendency on the part of France to augment her territory was very evident,
      for the Consular decrees made conquests more promptly than the sword. The
      union of Piedmont with France had changed the state of Europe. This union,
      it is true, was effected previously to the treaty of Amiens; but it was
      not so with the states of Parma and Piacenza, Bonaparte having by his sole
      authority constituted himself the heir of the Grand Duke, recently
      deceased. It may therefore be easily imagined how great was England's
      uneasiness at the internal prosperity of France and the insatiable
      ambition of her ruler; but it is no less certain that, with respect to
      Malta, England acted with decidedly bad faith; and this bad faith appeared
      in its worst light from the following circumstance:—It had been
      stipulated that England should withdraw her troops from Malta three months
      after the signing of the treaty, yet more than a year had elapsed, and the
      troops were still there. The order of Malta was to be restored as it
      formerly was; that is to say, it was to be a sovereign and independent
      order, under the protection of the Holy See. The three Cabinets of Vienna,
      Berlin, and St. Petersburg were to guarantee the execution of the treaty
      of Amiens. The English Ambassador, to excuse the evasions of his
      Government, pretended that the Russian Cabinet concurred with England in
      the delayed fulfilment of the conditions of the treaty; but at the very
      moment he was making that excuse a courier arrived from the Cabinet of St.
      Petersburg bearing despatches completely, at variance with the assertion
      of Lord Whitworth. His lordship left Paris on the night of the 12th May
      1803, and the English Government, unsolicited, sent passports to the
      French embassy in London. The news of this sudden rupture made the English
      console fall four per cent., but did not immediately produce such a
      retrograde effect on the French funds, which were then quoted at
      fifty-five francs;—a very high point, when it is recollected that
      they were at seven or eight francs on the eve of the 18th Brumaire.
    
When the misunderstanding happened, France and England might have blamed each other, but justice seemed to be on France's side. It was clear that England, by refusing to leave Malta, was clearly violating the treaty of Amiens, while England could only bring against France what French law refers to as a suit or process of tendency. However, it must be acknowledged that France's desire to expand its territory was quite apparent, as the Consular decrees secured conquests more quickly than the sword. The union of Piedmont with France had changed the political landscape of Europe. This union was indeed established before the treaty of Amiens; however, the same was not true for the states of Parma and Piacenza, as Bonaparte had appointed himself the heir of the recently deceased Grand Duke. One can easily imagine how alarmed England was by France's internal prosperity and the ruler's relentless ambition; yet it is equally clear that regarding Malta, England acted with blatant bad faith. This deception was highlighted by a key fact: it had been agreed that England would withdraw its troops from Malta three months after signing the treaty, yet over a year had passed, and the troops were still there. The order of Malta was to be restored to its previous status as a sovereign and independent order under the protection of the Holy See. The three Cabinets of Vienna, Berlin, and St. Petersburg were to guarantee the execution of the treaty of Amiens. The English Ambassador, in an attempt to justify his Government's delays, claimed that the Russian Cabinet supported England's postponement of the treaty's conditions; however, just as he was making that claim, a courier arrived from St. Petersburg with dispatches that completely contradicted Lord Whitworth's assertion. His lordship left Paris on the night of May 12, 1803, and the English Government, without solicitation, sent passports to the French embassy in London. The news of this sudden break in relations caused English stocks to fall four percent, but it didn’t immediately lead to a similar decline in French stocks, which were then valued at fifty-five francs—a notably high price, especially considering they were at seven or eight francs just before the 18th Brumaire.







      In this state of things France proposed to the English Government to admit
      of the mediation of Russia; but as England had declared war in order to
      repair the error she committed in concluding peace, the proposition was of
      course rejected. Thus the public gave the First Consul credit for great
      moderation and a sincere wish for peace. Thus arose between England and
      France a contest resembling those furious wars which marked the reigns of
      King John and Charles VII. Our beaux esprits drew splendid comparisons
      between the existing state of things and the ancient rivalry of Carthage
      and Rome, and sapiently concluded that, as Carthage fell, England must do
      so likewise.
    
In this situation, France suggested to the British government that they consider Russia's mediation. However, since England had declared war to correct the mistake of making peace, the proposal was obviously turned down. As a result, the public credited the First Consul with great restraint and a genuine desire for peace. This led to a conflict between England and France that resembled the fierce wars during the reigns of King John and Charles VII. Our intellectuals made brilliant comparisons between the current situation and the historic rivalry of Carthage and Rome, wisely concluding that just as Carthage fell, England would too.







      Bonaparte was at St. Cloud when Lord Whitworth left Paris. A fortnight was
      spent in useless attempts to renew negotiations. War, therefore, was the
      only alternative. Before he made his final preparations the First Consul
      addressed a message to the Senate, the Legislative Body, and the
      Tribunate. In this message he mentioned the recall of the English
      Ambassador, the breaking out of hostilities, the unexpected message of the
      King of England to his Parliament, and the armaments which immediately
      ensued in the British ports. "In vain," he said, "had France tried every
      means to induce England to abide by the treaty. She had repelled every
      overture, and increased the insolence of her demands. France," he added,
      "will not submit to menaces, but will combat for the faith of treaties,
      and the honour of the French name, confidently trusting that the result of
      the contest will be such as she has a right to expect from the justice of
      her cause and the courage of her people."
    
Bonaparte was at St. Cloud when Lord Whitworth left Paris. Two weeks were spent in futile attempts to restart negotiations. War, therefore, was the only option. Before he made his final preparations, the First Consul sent a message to the Senate, the Legislative Body, and the Tribunate. In this message, he mentioned the recall of the English Ambassador, the start of hostilities, the unexpected message from the King of England to his Parliament, and the military buildup that followed immediately in British ports. "In vain," he said, "had France tried every means to persuade England to honor the treaty. She rejected every offer and increased the audacity of her demands. France," he added, "will not bow to threats, but will fight for the integrity of treaties and the honor of the French name, confidently believing that the outcome of this conflict will be as she has the right to expect from the justice of her cause and the bravery of her people."







      This message was dignified, and free from that vein of boasting in which
      Bonaparte so frequently indulged. The reply of the Senate was accompanied
      by a vote of a ship of the line, to be paid for out of the Senatorial
      salaries. With his usual address Bonaparte, in acting for himself, spoke
      in the name of the people, just as he did in the question of the Consulate
      for life. But what he then did for his own interests turned to the future
      interests of the Bourbons. The very treaty which had just been broken off
      gave rise to a curious observation. Bonaparte, though not yet a sovereign,
      peremptorily required the King of England to renounce the empty title of
      King of France, which was kept up as if to imply that old pretensions were
      not yet renounced. The proposition was acceded to, and to this
      circumstance was owing the disappearance of the title of King of France
      from among the titles of the King of England, when the treaty of Paris was
      concluded on the return of the Bourbons.
    
This message was dignified and lacked the bragging that Bonaparte often displayed. The Senate’s reply included a vote for a ship of the line, to be funded by the Senatorial salaries. As usual, Bonaparte acted on his own behalf while claiming to speak for the people, just as he did regarding the Consulate for life. However, what he did for his own interests ended up serving the future interests of the Bourbons. The very treaty that had just fallen through led to an interesting point. Bonaparte, although not yet a sovereign, firmly demanded that the King of England give up the hollow title of King of France, which was maintained as if to suggest that old claims were still in play. The proposal was accepted, and this led to the removal of the title of King of France from the titles of the King of England when the Treaty of Paris was finalized with the Bourbons' return.







      The first grievance complained of by England was the prohibition of
      English merchandise, which had been more rigid since the peace than during
      the war. The avowal of Great Britain on this point might well have enabled
      her to dispense with any other subject of complaint; for the truth is, she
      was alarmed at the aspect of our internal prosperity, and at the impulse
      given to our manufactures. The English Government had hoped to obtain from
      the First Consul such a commercial treaty as would have proved a
      death-blow to our rising trade; but Bonaparte opposed this, and from the
      very circumstance of his refusal he might easily have foreseen the rupture
      at which he affected to be surprised. What I state I felt at the time,
      when I read with great interest all the documents relative to this great
      dispute between the two rival nations, which eleven years afterwards was
      decided before the walls of Paris.
    
The first complaint from England was the ban on English goods, which had become stricter since the peace than during the war. Great Britain's acknowledgment of this issue could have allowed her to avoid any other complaints; the truth is, she was worried about our internal growth and the boost in our manufacturing. The English Government had hoped to get a commercial treaty from the First Consul that would have been a major blow to our emerging trade, but Bonaparte blocked this, and by refusing, he could have easily anticipated the conflict he pretended to be surprised by. I remember feeling this way at the time when I read with great interest all the documents related to this significant dispute between the two rival nations, which would be resolved eleven years later at the gates of Paris.







      It was evidently disappointment in regard to a commercial treaty which
      created the animosity of the English Government, as that circumstance was
      alluded to, by way of reproach, in the King of England's declaration. In
      that document it was complained that France had sent a number of persona
      into the ports of Great Britain and Ireland in the character of commercial
      agents, which character, and the privileges belonging to it, they could
      only have acquired by a commercial treaty. Such was, in my opinion, the
      real cause of the complaints of England; but as it would have seemed too
      absurd to make it the ground of a declaration of war, she enumerated other
      grievances, viz., the union of Piedmont and of the states of Parma and
      Piacenza with France, and the continuance of the French troops in Holland.
      A great deal was said about the views and projects of France with respect
      to Turkey, and this complaint originated in General Sebastiani's mission
      to Egypt. On that point I can take upon me to say that the English
      Government was not misinformed. Bonaparte too frequently spoke to me of
      his ideas respecting the East, and his project of attacking the English
      power in India, to leave any doubt of his ever having renounced them. The
      result of all the reproaches which the two Governments addressed to each
      other was, that neither acted with good faith.
    
It was clearly disappointment over a trade agreement that fueled the anger of the English Government, as this was mentioned critically in the King of England's statement. In that document, it was pointed out that France had sent several individuals to the ports of Great Britain and Ireland as commercial agents, a title and the accompanying privileges they could only have obtained through a trade treaty. In my view, that was the real reason behind England's complaints; however, since it would have seemed too ridiculous to use it as a reason for declaring war, they listed other grievances, such as the unification of Piedmont and the states of Parma and Piacenza with France, as well as the presence of French troops in Holland. There was also a lot of talk about France's intentions regarding Turkey, stemming from General Sebastiani's mission to Egypt. On that matter, I can confidently say that the English Government was not mistaken. Bonaparte often spoke with me about his plans concerning the East and his idea of attacking British power in India, leaving no doubt that he had not abandoned those ambitions. The result of all the accusations exchanged between the two Governments was that neither acted in good faith.







      The First Consul, in a communication to the Legislative Body on the state
      of France and on her foreign relations; had said, "England, single-handed,
      cannot cope with France." This sufficed to irritate the susceptibility of
      English pride, and the British Cabinet affected to regard it as a threat.
      However, it was no such thing. When Bonaparte threatened, his words were
      infinitely more energetic. The passage above cited was merely an assurance
      to France; and if we only look at the past efforts and sacrifices made by
      England to stir up enemies to France on the Continent, we may be justified
      in supposing that her anger at Bonaparte's declaration arose from a
      conviction of its truth. Singly opposed to France, England could doubtless
      have done her much harm, especially by assailing the scattered remnants of
      her navy; but she could have done nothing against France on the Continent.
      The two powers, unaided by allies, might have continued long at war
      without any considerable acts of hostility.
    
The First Consul, in a message to the Legislative Body about the situation in France and her foreign relations, stated, "England, on her own, cannot compete with France." This was enough to offend English pride, and the British Cabinet pretended to see it as a threat. However, it was nothing of the sort. When Bonaparte issued threats, his words were much stronger. The statement mentioned above was simply meant to reassure France; and if we consider the previous efforts and sacrifices made by England to create foes for France on the Continent, we can reasonably assume that her anger at Bonaparte’s statement stemmed from a belief in its validity. Alone against France, England could certainly have inflicted some damage, especially by targeting the scattered remains of her navy; but she could have done nothing against France on the Continent. The two powers, without allies, could have engaged in a long war without any significant acts of hostility.







      The first effect of the declaration of war by England was the invasion of
      Hanover by the French troops under General Mortier. The telegraphic
      despatch by which this news was communicated to Paris was as laconic as
      correct, and contained, in a few words, the complete history of the
      expedition. It ran as follows: "The French are masters of the Electorate
      of Hanover, and the enemy's army are made prisoners of war." A day or two
      after the shop windows of the print-sellers were filled with caricatures
      on the English, and particularly on the Duke of Cambridge. I recollect
      seeing one in which the Duke was represented reviewing his troops mounted
      on a crab. I mention these trifles because, as I was then living entirely
      at leisure, in the Rue Hauteville, I used frequently to take a stroll on
      the Boulevards, where I was sometimes much amused with these prints; and I
      could not help remarking, that in large cities such trifles have more
      influence on the public mind than is usually supposed.
    
The first result of England declaring war was the invasion of Hanover by the French troops led by General Mortier. The telegraphic message that delivered this news to Paris was brief yet accurate, summarizing the entire expedition in just a few words. It stated: "The French have taken control of the Electorate of Hanover, and the enemy's army has been captured." A day or two later, the shop windows of print sellers were filled with cartoons making fun of the English, especially the Duke of Cambridge. I remember seeing one where the Duke was shown reviewing his troops while riding on a crab. I mention these minor details because, while I was living in leisure on Rue Hauteville, I often took walks on the Boulevards, where I found these prints quite entertaining; I couldn't help but notice that in big cities, such trivial matters have a greater impact on public opinion than most people realize.







      The First Consul thought the taking of the prisoners in Hanover a good
      opportunity to exchange them for those taken from us by the English navy.
      A proposition to this effect was accordingly made; but the English Cabinet
      was of opinion that, though the King of England was also Elector of
      Hanover, yet there was no identity between the two Governments, of both
      which George III. was the head. In consequence of this subtle distinction
      the proposition for the exchange of prisoners fell to the ground. At this
      period nothing could exceed the animosity of the two Governments towards
      each other, and Bonaparte, on the declaration of war, marked his
      indignation by an act which no consideration can justify; I allude to the
      order for the arrest of all the English in France—a truly barbarious
      measure; for; can anything be more cruel and unjust than to visit
      individuals with the vengeance due to the Government whose subjects they
      may happen to be? But Bonaparte, when under the influence of anger, was
      never troubled by scruples.
    
The First Consul saw the capture of the prisoners in Hanover as a good chance to swap them for those taken from us by the English navy. A proposal for this was made, but the English government believed that, even though the King of England was also the Elector of Hanover, there was no direct link between the two governments, both led by George III. Because of this subtle distinction, the prisoner exchange proposal fell through. At this time, the hostility between the two governments was at an all-time high, and Bonaparte, when the war was declared, showed his anger through an act that cannot be justified; I am referring to the order to arrest all the English in France—a truly barbaric measure. After all, can anything be more cruel and unjust than to punish individuals for the actions of the government they may belong to? But Bonaparte, when fueled by anger, was never held back by moral concerns.







      I must here notice the fulfilment of a remark Bonaparte often made, use of
      to me during the Consulate. "You shall see, Bourrienne," he would say,
      "what use I will make of the priests."
    
I need to mention the realization of a statement Bonaparte often made to me during the Consulate. "You'll see, Bourrienne," he would say, "how I'll use the priests."







      War being declared, the First Consul, in imitation of the most Christian
      kings of olden times, recommended the success of his arms to the prayers
      of the faithful through the medium of the clergy. To this end he addressed
      a circular letter, written in royal style, to the Cardinals, Archbishops,
      and Bishops of France.
    
War being declared, the First Consul, following the example of the most Christian kings of the past, asked the faithful to pray for the success of his military efforts through the clergy. To achieve this, he sent out a formal letter, written in a royal style, to the Cardinals, Archbishops, and Bishops of France.







      It was as follows:
    
It was as follows:






   MONSIEUR—The motives of the present war are known throughout
   Europe. The bad faith of the King of England, who has violated his
   treaties by refusing to restore Malta to the order of St. John of
   Jerusalem, and attacked our merchant vessels without a previous
   declaration of war, together with the necessity of a just defence,
   forced us to have recourse to arms. I therefore wish you to order
   prayers to be offered up, in order to obtain the benediction of
   Heaven on our enterprises. The proofs I have received of your zeal
   for the public service give me an assurance of your readiness to
   conform with my wishes.

   Given at St. Cloud, 18 Prairial, an XI. (7th June 1803).

                    (Signed) BONAPARTE.

MONSIEUR—The reasons for the current war are well-known across Europe. The King of England has acted in bad faith by breaking his treaties, refusing to return Malta to the Order of St. John of Jerusalem, and attacking our merchant ships without a prior declaration of war. This, along with the need for just defense, has compelled us to take up arms. I therefore ask you to arrange for prayers to be offered so that we may receive the blessings of Heaven on our endeavors. The evidence I’ve received of your commitment to public service assures me of your willingness to comply with my requests.

Given at St. Cloud, 18 Prairial, an XI. (7th June 1803).

(Signed) BONAPARTE.







      This letter was remarkable in more than one respect. It astonished most of
      his old brothers-in-arms, who turned it into ridicule; observing that
      Bonaparte needed no praying to enable him to conquer Italy twice over. The
      First Consul, however, let them laugh on, and steadily followed the line
      he had traced out. His letter was admirably calculated to please the Court
      of Rome, which he wished should consider him in the light of another elder
      son of the Church. The letter was, moreover, remarkable for the use of the
      word "Monsieur," which the First Consul now employed for the first time in
      an act destined for publicity. This circumstance would seem to indicate
      that he considered Republican designations incompatible with the forms due
      to the clergy: the clergy were especially interested in the restoration of
      monarchy. It may, perhaps, be thought that I dwell too much on trifles;
      but I lived long enough in Bonaparte's confidence to know the importance
      he attached to trifles. The First Consul restored the old names of the
      days of the week, while he allowed the names of the months, as set down in
      the Republican calendar, to remain. He commenced by ordering the Moniteur
      to be dated "Saturday," such a day of "Messidor." "See," said he one day,
      "was there ever such an inconsistency? We shall be laughed at! But I will
      do away with the Messidor. I will efface all the inventions of the
      Jacobins."
    
This letter was remarkable in several ways. It surprised most of his former comrades, who mocked it, saying that Bonaparte didn’t need prayer to conquer Italy twice. The First Consul, however, let them continue laughing and consistently followed the path he had set. His letter was cleverly designed to please the Court of Rome, which he wanted to see him as another favored son of the Church. Additionally, the letter was notable for his use of the word "Monsieur," which the First Consul used for the first time in an act meant for public attention. This suggests that he felt Republican titles were inappropriate when addressing the clergy, who were particularly invested in restoring the monarchy. Some might think I focus too much on minor details, but I spent enough time in Bonaparte's confidence to understand the significance he placed on them. The First Consul restored the old names of the days of the week while keeping the names of the months from the Republican calendar. He started by ordering the Moniteur to be dated "Saturday," a day of "Messidor." "Look," he said one day, "isn’t this inconsistent? We’ll be laughed at! But I will get rid of the Messidor. I will erase all the inventions of the Jacobins."







      The clergy did not disappoint the expectations of the First Consul. They
      owed him much already, and hoped for still more from him. The letter to
      the Bishops, etc., was the signal for a number of circulars full of
      eulogies on Bonaparte.
    
The clergy met the First Consul's expectations. They already owed him a lot and were hoping for even more from him. The letter to the Bishops, etc., triggered several circulars praising Bonaparte.







      These compliments were far from displeasing to the First Consul, who had
      no objection to flattery though he despised those who meanly made
      themselves the medium of conveying it to him. Duroc once told me that they
      had all great difficulty in preserving their gravity when the cure of a
      parish in Abbeville addressed Bonaparte one day while he was on his
      journey to the coast. "Religion," said the worthy cure, with pompous
      solemnity, "owes to you all that it is, we owe to you all that we are; and
      I, too, owe to you all that I am."
    
These compliments were far from unwelcome to the First Consul, who had no issue with flattery even though he looked down on those who lowly acted as messengers of it. Duroc once told me that they all struggled to keep a straight face when the parish priest in Abbeville addressed Bonaparte one day while he was traveling to the coast. "Religion," said the respectable priest, with grand solemnity, "owes you everything it is, we owe you everything we are; and I, too, owe you everything I am."






 —[Not so fulsome as some of the terms used a year later when
   Napoleon was made Emperor. "I am what I am," was placed over a seat
   prepared for the Emperor. One phrase, "God made Napoleon and then
   rested," drew from Narbonne the sneer that it would have been better
   if the Deity had rested sooner. "Bonaparte," says Joseph de
   Maistre, "has had himself described in his papers as the 'Messenger
   of God.' Nothing more true. Bonaparte comes straight from heaven,
   like a thunderbolt." (Saints-Benve, Caureries, tome iv. p. 203.)]

 —[Not as extravagant as some of the phrases used a year later when Napoleon became Emperor. "I am what I am," was placed above a seat set aside for the Emperor. One phrase, "God made Napoleon and then rested," earned a sarcastic remark from Narbonne that it would have been better if God had taken a break sooner. "Bonaparte," says Joseph de Maistre, "has described himself in his writings as the 'Messenger of God.' Nothing could be more accurate. Bonaparte comes directly from heaven, like a thunderbolt." (Saints-Benve, Caureries, tome iv. p. 203.)]








 


 




















      CHAPTER XX.
    



      1803.
    
1803.


   Presentation of Prince Borghese to Bonaparte—Departure for Belgium
   Revival of a royal custom—The swans of Amiens—Change of formula
   in the acts of Government—Company of performers in Bonaparte's
   suite—Revival of old customs—Division of the institute into four
   classes—Science and literature—Bonaparte's hatred of literary men
   —Ducis—Bernardin de Saint-Pierre—Chenier and Lemercier—
   Explanation of Bonaparte's aversion to literature—Lalande and his
   dictionary—Education in the hands of Government—M. de Roquelaure,
   Archbishop of Malines.

   Presentation of Prince Borghese to Bonaparte—Departure for Belgium  
   Revival of a royal custom—The swans of Amiens—Change of formula  
   in the acts of Government—Company of performers in Bonaparte's  
   entourage—Revival of old traditions—Division of the institute into four  
   categories—Science and literature—Bonaparte's disdain for literary figures  
   —Ducis—Bernardin de Saint-Pierre—Chenier and Lemercier—  
   Explanation of Bonaparte's dislike of literature—Lalande and his  
   dictionary—Education under Government control—M. de Roquelaure,  
   Archbishop of Malines.







      In the month of April 1803 Prince Borghese, who was destined one day to
      become Bonaparte's brother-in-law by marrying the widow of Leclerc, was
      introduced to the First Consul by Cardinal Caprara.
    
In April 1803, Prince Borghese, who would eventually become Bonaparte's brother-in-law by marrying Leclerc's widow, was introduced to the First Consul by Cardinal Caprara.







      About the end of June Bonaparte proceeded, with Josephine, on his journey
      to Belgium and the seaboard departments. Many curious circumstances were
      connected with this journey, of which I was informed by Duroc after the
      First Consul's return. Bonaparte left Paris on the 24th of June, and
      although it was not for upwards of a year afterwards that his brow was
      encircled with the imperial-diadem, everything connected with the journey
      had an imperial air. It was formerly the custom, when the Kings of France
      entered the ancient capital of Picardy, for the town of Amiens to offer
      them in homage some beautiful swans. Care was taken to revive this custom,
      which pleased Bonaparte greatly, because it was treating him like a King.
      The swans were accepted, and sent to Paris to be placed in the basin of
      the Tuileries, in order to show the Parisians the royal homage which the
      First Consul received when absent from the capital.
    
Towards the end of June, Bonaparte set off, with Josephine, on his trip to Belgium and the coastal regions. There were many interesting details related to this journey, which I heard from Duroc after the First Consul returned. Bonaparte left Paris on June 24th, and even though it wasn't for more than a year later that he would be crowned Emperor, everything about the trip had a royal vibe. Traditionally, when the Kings of France entered the historic city of Picardy, the town of Amiens would present them with beautiful swans as a tribute. This custom was revived, much to Bonaparte's delight, as it made him feel like a King. The swans were accepted and sent to Paris to be placed in the Tuileries basin, showcasing the royal tribute the First Consul received while away from the capital.







      It was also during this journey that Bonaparte began to date his decrees
      from the places through which he passed. He had hitherto left a great
      number of signatures in Paris, in order that he might be present, as it
      were, even during his absence, by the acts of his Government. Hitherto
      public acts had been signed in the name of the Consuls of the Republic.
      Instead of this formula, he substituted the name of the Government of the
      Republic. By means of this variation, unimportant as it might appear, the
      Government was always in the place where the First Consul happened to be.
      The two other Consuls were now mere nullities, even in appearance. The
      decrees of the Government, which Cambacérès signed during the campaign of
      Marengo, were now issued from all the towns of France and Belgium which
      the First Consul visited during his six weeks' journey. Having thus
      centred the sole authority of the Republic in himself, the performers of
      the theatre of the Republic became, by a natural consequence, his; and it
      was quite natural that they should travel in his suite, to entertain the
      inhabitants of the towns in which he stopped by their performances. But
      this was not all. He encouraged the renewal of a host of ancient customs.
      He sanctioned the revival of the festival of Joan of Arc at Orleans, and
      he divided the Institute into four classes, with the intention of
      recalling the recollection of the old academies, the names of which,
      however, he rejected, in spite of the wishes and intrigues of Suard and
      the Abby Morellet, who had gained over Lucien upon this point.
    
It was during this journey that Bonaparte started dating his decrees based on the places he visited. Until then, he had signed a lot of documents in Paris, trying to maintain a presence even when he was away, through the actions of his government. Up to that point, public acts had been signed in the name of the Consuls of the Republic. Instead of using that formula, he replaced it with the name of the Government of the Republic. Although this change might seem minor, it meant that the government was effectively wherever the First Consul was located. The other two Consuls became insignificant, even in appearance. The government's decrees, which Cambacérès signed during the Marengo campaign, were now issued from all the towns in France and Belgium that the First Consul visited during his six-week journey. By centralizing all authority in himself, he naturally made the performers of the Republic's theater his own, and it made sense that they would travel with him to entertain the residents of the towns where he stopped with their performances. But that wasn't all. He promoted the revival of many old customs. He approved the return of the Joan of Arc festival in Orleans, and he divided the Institute into four classes, aiming to revive the memory of the old academies, whose names he ultimately dismissed, despite the efforts and manipulations of Suard and Abbey Morellet, who had influenced Lucien on this matter.







      However, the First Consul did not give to the classes of the Institute the
      rank which they formerly possessed as academies. He placed the class of
      sciences in the first rank, and the old French Academy in the second rank.
      It must be acknowledged that, considering the state of literature and
      science at that period, the First Consul did not make a wrong estimate of
      their importance.
    
However, the First Consul did not restore the classes of the Institute to the status they once held as academies. He ranked the class of sciences in first place, while the old French Academy was placed in second. It has to be acknowledged that, given the state of literature and science at that time, the First Consul had a reasonable understanding of their significance.







      Although the literature of France could boast of many men of great talent,
      such as La Harpe, who died during the Consulate, Ducis, Bernardin de
      Saint-Pierre, Chenier, and Lemercier, yet they could not be compared with
      Lagrange, Laplace, Monge, Fourcroy, Berthollet, and Cuvier, whose labours
      have so prodigiously extended the limits of human knowledge. No one,
      therefore, could murmur at seeing the class of sciences in the Institute
      take precedence of its elder sister. Besides, the First Consul was not
      sorry to show, by this arrangement, the slight estimation in which he held
      literary men. When he spoke to me respecting them he called them mere
      manufacturers of phrases. He could not pardon them for excelling him in a
      pursuit in which he had no claim to distinction. I never knew a man more
      insensible than Bonaparte to the beauties of poetry or prose. A certain
      degree of vagueness, which was combined with his energy of mind, led him
      to admire the dreams of Ossian, and his decided character found itself, as
      it were, represented in the elevated thoughts of Corneille. Hence his
      almost exclusive predilection for these two authors. With this exception,
      the finest works in our literature were in his opinion merely arrangements
      of sonorous words, void of sense, and calculated only for the ear.
    
Even though France's literature could proudly claim many talented individuals, like La Harpe, who died during the Consulate, Ducis, Bernardin de Saint-Pierre, Chenier, and Lemercier, they couldn’t hold a candle to Lagrange, Laplace, Monge, Fourcroy, Berthollet, and Cuvier, whose work has vastly expanded human knowledge. So, no one could complain about the sciences in the Institute taking precedence over the literary field. Additionally, the First Consul wasn’t unhappy to demonstrate, through this arrangement, how little he thought of literary figures. When he talked to me about them, he referred to them as mere makers of phrases. He couldn’t stand the fact that they excelled in a field where he had no claim to distinction. I never knew anyone more indifferent than Bonaparte to the beauty of poetry or prose. A certain level of vagueness, mixed with his mental energy, led him to admire the dreams of Ossian, and his strong character seemed reflected in the lofty thoughts of Corneille. This resulted in his almost exclusive preference for these two authors. Outside of that, the finest works in our literature were, in his view, just arrangements of lyrical words, lacking meaning and only appealing to the ear.







      Bonaparte's contempt, or, more properly speaking, his dislike of
      literature, displayed itself particularly in the feeling he cherished
      towards some men of distinguished literary talent. He hated Chenier, and
      Ducis still more. He could not forgive Chenier for the Republican
      principles which pervaded his tragedies; and Ducis excited in him; as if
      instinctively, an involuntary hatred. Ducis, on his part, was not backward
      in returning the Consul's animosity, and I remember his writing some
      verses which were inexcusably violent, and overstepped all the bounds of
      truth. Bonaparte was so singular a composition of good and bad that to
      describe him as he was under one or other of these aspects would serve for
      panegyric or satire without any departure from truth. Bonaparte was very
      fond of Bernardin Saint-Pierre's romance of 'Paul and Virginia', which he
      had read in his boyhood. I remember that he one day tried to read 'Les
      etudes de la Nature', but at the expiration of a quarter of an hour he
      threw down the book, exclaiming, "How can any one read such silly stuff.
      It is insipid and vapid; there is nothing in it. These are the dreams of a
      visionary! What is nature? The thing is vague and unmeaning. Men and
      passions are the subjects to write about—there is something there
      for study. These fellows are good for nothing under any government. I
      will, however, give them pensions, because I ought to do so, as Head of
      the State. They occupy and amuse the idle. I will make Lagrange a Senator—he
      has a head."
    
Bonaparte's disdain, or more accurately, his dislike of literature, was especially noticeable in how he felt about certain notable literary figures. He hated Chenier and even more so Ducis. He couldn't forgive Chenier for the Republican themes in his plays, and Ducis instinctively triggered an involuntary hatred in him. Ducis, in turn, didn't hesitate to return the Consul's animosity; I remember him writing some verses that were shockingly violent and crossed all lines of truth. Bonaparte was such a mix of good and bad that describing him from either angle would serve as praise or criticism without straying from the truth. He really liked Bernardin Saint-Pierre's novel 'Paul and Virginia', which he had read in his youth. I recall that one day he attempted to read 'Les études de la Nature', but after about fifteen minutes, he tossed the book aside, exclaiming, "How can anyone read such nonsense? It's bland and uninteresting; there's nothing in it. These are the fantasies of a dreamer! What is nature? It's vague and meaningless. People and emotions are the subjects worth writing about—there's something there to study. These guys are useless under any government. I will, however, give them pensions because I should as Head of State. They keep the idle entertained. I’ll make Lagrange a Senator—he’s got a good mind."







      Although Bonaparte spoke so disdainfully of literary men it must not be
      taken for granted that he treated them ill. On the contrary, all those who
      visited at Malmaison were the objects of his attention, and even flattery.
      M. Lemercier was one of those who came most frequently, and whom Bonaparte
      received with the greatest pleasure. Bonaparte treated M. Lemercier with
      great kindness; but he did not like him. His character as a literary man
      and poet, joined to a polished frankness, and a mild but inflexible spirit
      of republicanism, amply sufficed to explain Bonaparte's dislike. He feared
      M. Lemercier and his pen; and, as happened more than once, he played the
      part of a parasite by flattering the writer. M. Lemercier was the only man
      I knew who refused the cross of the Legion of Honour.
    
Even though Bonaparte looked down on literary figures, it shouldn’t be assumed that he treated them poorly. In fact, he paid a lot of attention to those who visited him at Malmaison, often flattering them. M. Lemercier was one of the regular visitors, and Bonaparte always welcomed him with pleasure. He was kind to M. Lemercier, but he didn’t actually like him. Lemercier’s reputation as a literary figure and poet, combined with his straightforwardness and a gentle but firm belief in republicanism, clearly explains why Bonaparte didn’t warm up to him. He feared M. Lemercier and his writing; so, more than once, he acted like a sycophant by buttering the writer up. M. Lemercier was the only person I knew who turned down the Legion of Honour.







      Bonaparte's general dislike of literary men was less the result of
      prejudice than circumstances. In order to appreciate or even to read
      literary works time is requisite, and time was so precious to him that he
      would have wished, as one may say, to shorten a straight line. He liked
      only those writers who directed their attention to positive and precise
      things, which excluded all thoughts of government and censures on
      administration. He looked with a jealous eye on political economists and
      lawyers; in short, as all persons who in any way whatever meddled with
      legislation and moral improvements. His hatred of discussions on those
      subjects was strongly displayed on the occasion of the classification of
      the Institute. Whilst he permitted the reassembling of a literary class,
      to the number of forty, as formerly, he suppressed the class of moral and
      political science. Such was his predilection for things of immediate and
      certain utility that even in the sciences he favoured only such as applied
      to terrestrial objects. He never treated Lalande with so much distinction
      as Monge and Lagrange. Astronomical discoveries could not add directly to
      his own greatness; and, besides, he could never forgive Lalande for having
      wished to include him in a dictionary of atheists precisely at the moment
      when he was opening negotiations with the court of Rome.
    
Bonaparte's general dislike for literary people was less about prejudice and more about his circumstances. To appreciate or even read literary works takes time, and time was so valuable to him that he would have liked to shorten a straight line if he could. He only appreciated writers who focused on concrete and precise subjects, which meant he ignored any discussions about government or criticisms of administration. He viewed political economists and lawyers with jealousy; in short, he had a problem with anyone who got involved with legislation and moral improvements. His strong aversion to discussions on these topics was evident during the classification of the Institute. While he allowed a literary class to gather again, consisting of forty members like before, he abolished the class dedicated to moral and political sciences. His preference for things that offered immediate and certain benefits was so strong that even in the sciences, he only supported those that were practical and earthly. He never treated Lalande with as much respect as he did Monge and Lagrange. Astronomical discoveries didn’t contribute directly to his own power, and, on top of that, he could never forgive Lalande for wanting to include him in a dictionary of atheists right when he was starting talks with the court of Rome.







      Bonaparte wished to be the sole centre of a world which he believed he was
      called to govern. With this view he never relaxed in his constant
      endeavour to concentrate the whole powers of the State in the hands of its
      Chief. His conduct upon the subject of the revival of public instruction
      affords evidence of this fact. He wished to establish 6000 bursaries, to
      be paid by Government, and to be exclusively at his disposal, so that thus
      possessing the monopoly of education, he could have parcelled it out only
      to the children of those who were blindly devoted to him. This was what
      the First Consul called the revival of public instruction. During the
      period of my closest intimacy with him he often spoke to me on this
      subject, and listened patiently to my observations. I remember that one of
      his chief arguments was this: "What is it that distinguishes men?
      Education—is it not? Well, if the children of nobles be admitted
      into the academies, they will be as well educated as the children of the
      revolution, who compose the strength of my government. Ultimately they
      will enter into my regiments as officers, and will naturally come in
      competition with those whom they regard as the plunderers of their
      families. I do not wish that!"
    
Bonaparte wanted to be the sole ruler of a world he believed he was destined to govern. To achieve this, he continuously sought to consolidate all state power in the hands of its leader. His approach to reviving public education shows this clearly. He aimed to create 6000 scholarships funded by the government that would be entirely at his discretion, allowing him to control education and distribute it only to the children of those who were blindly loyal to him. This was what the First Consul referred to as the revival of public education. During my closest times with him, he often discussed this topic with me and listened patiently to my thoughts. I recall one of his main arguments: "What distinguishes people? Education, right? Well, if noble children are allowed into the academies, they will be just as educated as the children from the revolution, who make up the backbone of my government. Eventually, they will join my military as officers and will naturally compete with those they see as the destroyers of their families. I don't want that!"







      My recollections have caused me to wander from the journey of the First
      Consul and Madame Bonaparte to the seabord departments and Belgium. I
      have, however, little to add to what I have already stated on the subject.
      I merely remember that Bonaparte's military suite, and Lauriston and Rapp
      in particular, when speaking to me about the journey, could not conceal
      some marks of discontent on account of the great respect which Bonaparte
      had shown the clergy, and particularly to M. de Roquelaure, the Archbishop
      of Malines (or Mechlin). That prelate, who was a shrewd man, and had the
      reputation of having been in his youth more addicted to the habits of the
      world than to those of the cloister, had become an ecclesiastical
      courtier. He went to Antwerp to pay his homage to the First Consul, upon
      whom he heaped the most extravagant praises. Afterwards, addressing Madame
      Bonaparte, he told her that she was united to the First Consul by the
      sacred bonds of a holy alliance. In this harangue, in which unction was
      singularly blended with gallantry, surely it was a departure from
      ecclesiastical propriety to speak of sacred bonds and holy alliance when
      every one knew that those bonds and that alliance existed only by a civil
      contract. Perhaps M. de Roquelaure merely had recourse to what casuists
      call a pious fraud in order to engage the married couple to do that which
      he congratulated them on having already done. Be this as it may, it is
      certain that this honeyed language gained M. de Roquelaure the Consul's
      favour, and in a short time after he was appointed to the second class of
      the Institute.
    
My memories have led me to drift away from the journey of the First Consul and Madame Bonaparte to the coastal regions and Belgium. However, I don’t have much to add to what I've already mentioned on the topic. I just recall that Bonaparte's military entourage, especially Lauriston and Rapp, when talking to me about the trip, couldn't hide their dissatisfaction over the considerable respect Bonaparte showed to the clergy, particularly to M. de Roquelaure, the Archbishop of Malines (or Mechlin). This prelate, who was quite savvy and had a reputation for being more worldly in his younger days than cloistered, had morphed into a church courtier. He traveled to Antwerp to pay his respects to the First Consul, showering him with the most extravagant praises. Later, addressing Madame Bonaparte, he told her that she was connected to the First Consul by the sacred bonds of a holy alliance. In this speech, which was a strange mix of sincerity and flirtation, it definitely strayed from proper ecclesiastical behavior to talk about sacred bonds and a holy alliance when everyone knew those bonds and that alliance existed only through a civil contract. Perhaps M. de Roquelaure resorted to what moralists call a pious fraud to persuade the married couple to act in a way he congratulated them for already doing. Regardless, it’s clear that this sweet talk won M. de Roquelaure the Consul's favor, and shortly after, he was appointed to the second class of the Institute.








 


 




















      CHAPTER XXI.
    



      1804.
    
1804.


   The Temple—The intrigues of Europe—Prelude to the Continental
   system—Bombardment of Granville—My conversation with the First
   Consul on the projected invasion of England—Fauche Borel—Moreau
   and Pichegru—Fouché's manoeuvres—The Abbe David and Lajolais—
   Fouché's visit to St. Cloud—Regnier outwitted by Fouché—
   My interview with the First Consul—His indignation at the reports
   respecting Hortense—Contradiction of these calumnies—The brothers
   Faucher—Their execution—The First Consul's levee—My conversation
   with Duroc—Conspiracy of Georges, Moreau, and Pichegru—Moreau
   averse to the restoration of the Bourbons—Bouvet de Lozier's
   attempted suicide—Arrest of Moreau—Declaration of MM. de Polignac
   and de Riviere—Connivance of the police—Arrest of M. Carbonnet and
   his nephew.

   The Temple—the intrigues of Europe—Prelude to the Continental system—Bombardment of Granville—My conversation with the First Consul about the planned invasion of England—Fauche Borel—Moreau and Pichegru—Fouché's maneuvers—The Abbe David and Lajolais—Fouché's visit to St. Cloud—Regnier outsmarted by Fouché—My meeting with the First Consul—His outrage at the rumors about Hortense—Refutation of these slanders—The Faucher brothers—Their execution—The First Consul's levee—My conversation with Duroc—Conspiracy of Georges, Moreau, and Pichegru—Moreau opposed to the restoration of the Bourbons—Bouvet de Lozier's attempted suicide—Arrest of Moreau—Statement from MM. de Polignac and de Riviere—Police complicity—Arrest of M. Carbonnet and his nephew.







      The time was passed when Bonaparte, just raised to the Consulate, only
      proceeded to the Temple to release the victims of the "Loi des suspects"
      by his sole and immediate authority. This state prison was now to be
      filled by the orders of his police. All the intrigues of Europe were in
      motion. Emissaries came daily from England, who, if they could not
      penetrate into the interior of France, remained in the towns near the
      frontiers, where they established correspondence, and published pamphlets,
      which they sent to Paris by post, in the form of letters.
    
The time had passed when Bonaparte, newly appointed as Consul, could just go to the Temple to free the victims of the "Loi des suspects" based solely on his own authority. This state prison was now going to be filled by orders from his police. All the intrigues of Europe were in full swing. Emissaries arrived daily from England who, unable to enter the interior of France, stayed in towns near the borders, where they set up correspondence and published pamphlets that they mailed to Paris disguised as letters.







      The First Consul, on the other hand, gave way, without reserve, to the
      natural irritation which that power had excited by her declaration of war.
      He knew that the most effective war he could carry on against England
      would be a war against her trade.
    
The First Consul, however, fully indulged in the natural annoyance that this power had stirred up with its declaration of war. He realized that the best way to wage war against England would be to target her trade.







      As a prelude to that piece of madness, known by the name of the
      Continental system, the First Consul adopted every possible preventive
      measure against the introduction of English merchandise. Bonaparte's
      irritation against the English was not without a cause. The intelligence
      which reached Paris from the north of France was not very consolatory. The
      English fleets not only blockaded the French ports, but were acting on the
      offensive, and had bombarded Granville. The mayor of the town did his
      duty, but his colleagues, more prudent, acted differently. In the height
      of his displeasure Bonaparte issued a decree, by which he bestowed a scarf
      of honour on Letourneur, the mayor, and dismissed his colleagues from
      office as cowards unworthy of trust. The terms of this decree were rather
      severe, but they were certainly justified by the conduct of those who had
      abandoned their posts at a critical moment.
    
As a lead-up to the crazy plan known as the Continental System, the First Consul took every possible step to prevent English goods from coming in. Bonaparte's anger toward the English was understandable. The news coming into Paris from northern France wasn’t very reassuring. The English fleets weren’t just blockading French ports; they were also taking action and had bombarded Granville. The town's mayor did his duty, but his colleagues, being more cautious, acted differently. In a fit of anger, Bonaparte issued a decree that awarded a scarf of honor to Letourneur, the mayor, and removed his colleagues from office for being cowardly and untrustworthy. The decree's terms were pretty harsh, but they were certainly warranted given the actions of those who had abandoned their posts during a crucial time.







      I come now to the subject of the invasion of England, and what the First
      Consul said to me respecting it. I have stated that Bonaparte never had
      any idea of realising the pretended project of a descent on England. The
      truth of this assertion will appear from a conversation which I had with
      him after he returned from his journey to the north. In this conversation
      he repeated what he had often before mentioned to me in reference to the
      projects and possible steps to which fortune might compel him to resort.
    
I now want to talk about the invasion of England and what the First Consul told me about it. I've mentioned that Bonaparte never genuinely planned to carry out the supposed scheme of landing in England. The truth of this will be clear from a conversation I had with him after he returned from his trip to the north. During this conversation, he repeated what he had often said to me before regarding the plans and possible actions that fate might force him to take.







      The peace of Amiens had been broken about seven months when, on the 15th
      of December 1803, the First Consul sent for me to the Tuileries. His
      incomprehensible behaviour to me was fresh in my mind; and as it was
      upwards of a year since I had seen him, I confess I did not feel quite at
      ease when I received the summons. He was perfectly aware that I possessed
      documents and data for writing his history which would describe facts
      correctly, and destroy the illusions with which his flatterers constantly,
      entertained the public. I have already stated that at that period I had no
      intention of the kind; but those who laboured constantly to incense him
      against me might have suggested apprehensions on the subject. At all
      events the fact is, that when he sent for me I took the precaution of
      providing myself with a night-cap, conceiving it to be very likely that I
      should be sent to sleep at Vincennes. On the day appointed for the
      interview Rapp was on duty. I did not conceal from him my opinion as to
      the possible result of my visit. "You need not be afraid," said Rapp; "the
      First Consul merely wishes to talk with you." He then announced me.
    
The peace of Amiens had been broken for about seven months when, on December 15, 1803, the First Consul called me to the Tuileries. His strange behavior toward me was still fresh in my mind, and since it had been over a year since I last saw him, I admit I didn't feel entirely comfortable when I got the summons. He knew I had documents and information for writing his history that would accurately describe events and shatter the illusions his supporters constantly fed the public. I had already mentioned that at that time I had no such plans, but those who were always trying to turn him against me might have raised concerns about it. In any case, when he called for me, I made sure to bring a nightcap, thinking that I might very well be sent to sleep at Vincennes. On the day of the meeting, Rapp was on duty. I didn't hide my thoughts about the potential outcome of my visit from him. "You don't have to worry," Rapp said; "the First Consul just wants to talk to you." He then introduced me.







      Bonaparte came into the grand salon where I awaited him, and addressing me
      in the most good-humoured way said, "What do the gossips say of my
      preparations for the invasion of England?"—"There is a great
      difference of opinion on the subject, General," I replied. "Everyone
      speaks according to his own views. Suchet, for instance, who comes to see
      me very often, has no doubt that it will take place, and hopes to give you
      on the occasion fresh proofs of his gratitude and fidelity."—"But
      Suchet tells me that you do not believe it will be attempted."—"That
      is true, I certainly do not."—"Why?"—"Because you told me at
      Antwerp, five years ago, that you would not risk France on the cast of a
      die—that the adventure was too hazardous—and circumstances
      have not altered since that time."—"You are right. Those who look
      forward to the invasion of England are blockheads. They do not see the
      affair in its true light. I can, doubtless, land in England with 100,000
      men. A great battle will be fought, which I shall gain; but I must reckon
      upon 30,000 men killed, wounded, and prisoners. If I march on London, a
      second battle must be fought. I will suppose myself again victorious; but
      what should I do in London with an army diminished three-fourths and
      without the hope of reinforcements? It would be madness. Until our navy
      acquires superiority it is useless to think of such a project. The great
      assemblage of troops in the north has another object. My Government must
      be the first in the world, or it must fall." Bonaparte then evidently
      wished it to be supposed that he entertained the design of invading
      England in order to divert the attention of Europe to that direction.
    
Bonaparte entered the grand salon where I was waiting for him and, speaking in a very friendly manner, asked, "What are the gossips saying about my plans to invade England?" I replied, "There are a lot of differing opinions on the matter, General. Everyone speaks based on their own perspectives. Suchet, for example, who visits me quite often, is certain it will happen and hopes to show you more proof of his gratitude and loyalty during that time."—"But Suchet tells me you don't think it will actually be attempted."—"That's correct, I don’t think so."—"Why not?"—"Because you told me in Antwerp, five years ago, that you wouldn’t risk France on a gamble—that the venture was too risky—and circumstances haven’t changed since then."—"You’re right. Those who are eager for the invasion of England are fools. They fail to see the situation clearly. I could certainly land in England with 100,000 men. A major battle would take place, and I would win; but I have to account for 30,000 men being killed, wounded, or captured. If I march on London, a second battle would need to be fought. Let’s say I win again; but what would I do in London with an army that's been reduced by three-quarters and with no hope of reinforcements? That would be insane. Until our navy is superior, it's pointless to consider such a project. The large troop buildup in the north has another purpose. My government must be the strongest in the world, or it will collapse." Bonaparte seemed to want to imply that he was pretending to plan the invasion of England to distract Europe’s attention in that direction.







      From Dunkirk the First Consul proceeded to Antwerp, where also he had
      assembled experienced men to ascertain their opinions respecting the
      surest way of attempting a landing, the project of which was merely a
      pretence. The employment of large ships of war, after many discussions,
      abandoned in favour of a flotilla.
    
From Dunkirk, the First Consul went to Antwerp, where he gathered experienced people to get their opinions on the safest way to attempt a landing, which was really just a cover story. After much debate, the use of large warships was dropped in favor of a flotilla.






 —[At this period a caricature (by Gillray) appeared in London.
   which was sent to Paris, and strictly sought after by the police.
   One of the copies was shown to the First Consul, who was highly
   indignant at it. The French fleet was represented by a number of
   nut-shells. An English sailor, seated on a rock, was quietly
   smoking his pipe, the whiffs of which were throwing the whole
   squadron into disorder.—Bourrienne. Gillray's caricatures should
   be at the reader's side during the perusal of this work, also
   English Caricature and Satire on Napoleon I., by J. Ashton Chatto:
   and Windus, 1884.]— 
 —[During this time, a caricature (by Gillray) appeared in London, which was sent to Paris and actively sought after by the police. One of the copies was shown to the First Consul, who was very upset about it. The French fleet was depicted as a bunch of nut-shells. An English sailor, sitting on a rock, was casually smoking his pipe, and the smoke was causing chaos among the entire squadron. —Bourrienne. Gillray's caricatures should be by the reader's side while reading this work, as well as English Caricature and Satire on Napoleon I., by J. Ashton Chatto: and Windus, 1884.] 







      After visiting Belgium, and giving directions there, the First Consul
      returned from Brussels to Paris by way of Maestricht, Liege, and Soissons.
    
After visiting Belgium and giving directions there, the First Consul returned from Brussels to Paris, passing through Maestricht, Liege, and Soissons.







      Before my visit to the Tuileries, and even before the rupture of the peace
      of Amiens, certain intriguing speculators, whose extravagant zeal was not
      less fatal to the cause of the Bourbons than was the blind subserviency of
      his unprincipled adherents to the First Consul, had taken part in some
      underhand manoeuvres which could have no favourable result. Amongst these
      great contrivers of petty machinations the well-known Fauche Borel, the
      bookseller of Neufchatel, had long been conspicuous. Fauche Borel, whose
      object was to create a stir, and who wished nothing better than to be
      noticed and paid, failed not to come to France as soon as the peace of
      Amiens afforded him the opportunity. I was at that time still with
      Bonaparte, who was aware of all these little plots, but who felt no
      personal anxiety on the subject, leaving to his police the care of
      watching their authors.
    
Before I visited the Tuileries, and even before the peace of Amiens was broken, some scheming individuals, whose reckless enthusiasm was just as harmful to the Bourbon cause as the blind loyalty of their unscrupulous followers to the First Consul, engaged in some shady dealings that were unlikely to yield any positive outcomes. Among these major players of minor schemes, the well-known Fauche Borel, the bookseller from Neufchatel, stood out for a long time. Fauche Borel, who aimed to stir things up and craved attention and payment, wasted no time coming to France as soon as the peace of Amiens gave him the chance. At that time, I was still with Bonaparte, who was aware of all these petty plots but felt no personal concern about them, leaving his police to keep an eye on the perpetrators.







      The object of Fauche Borel's mission was to bring about a reconciliation
      between Moreau and Pichegru. The latter general, who was banished on the
      18th Fructidor 4th (September 1797), had not obtained the First Consul's
      permission to return to France. He lived in England, where he awaited a
      favourable opportunity for putting his old projects into execution. Moreau
      was in Paris, but no longer appeared at the levees or parties of the First
      Consul, and the enmity of both generals against Bonaparte, openly avowed
      on the part of Pichegru; and still disguised by Moreau, was a secret to
      nobody. But as everything was prosperous with Bonaparte he evinced
      contempt rather than fear of the two generals. His apprehensions were,
      indeed, tolerably allayed by the absence of the one and the character of
      the other. Moreau's name had greater weight with the army than that of
      Pichegru; and those who were plotting the overthrow of the Consular
      Government knew that that measure could not be attempted with any chance
      of success without the assistance of Moreau. The moment was inopportune;
      but, being initiated in some secrets of the British Cabinet, they knew
      that the peace was but a truce, and they determined to profit by that
      truce to effect a reconciliation which might afterwards secure a community
      of interests. Moreau and Pichegru had not been friends since Moreau sent
      to the Directory the papers seized in M. de Klinglin's carriage, which
      placed Pichegru's treason in so clear a light. Since that period
      Pichegru's name possessed no influence over the minds of the soldiers,
      amongst whom he had very few partisans, whilst the name of Moreau was dear
      to all who had conquered under his command.
    
The goal of Fauche Borel's mission was to reconcile Moreau and Pichegru. The latter, who was exiled on the 18th of Fructidor (September 1797), had not received permission from the First Consul to return to France. He was living in England, waiting for a favorable chance to carry out his old plans. Moreau was in Paris, but he stopped attending the levees or parties hosted by the First Consul, and both generals openly opposed Bonaparte, with Pichegru being very vocal about it and Moreau hiding his feelings less successfully. However, since everything was going well for Bonaparte, he showed more contempt than fear towards the two generals. His concerns were somewhat eased by Pichegru's absence and Moreau's character. Moreau carried more weight with the army than Pichegru did, and those plotting against the Consular Government knew they couldn't succeed without Moreau's support. Though the time wasn't right, they were aware of some secrets from the British government and recognized that the peace was just temporary. They decided to use this truce to attempt a reconciliation that could later create shared interests. Moreau and Pichegru hadn’t been on good terms since Moreau sent the Directory the documents found in M. de Klinglin's carriage, which exposed Pichegru's treason clearly. Since then, Pichegru’s name held little sway with the soldiers, who had very few supporters among them, while Moreau’s name was cherished by all who had fought under his leadership.







      Fauche Borel's design was to compromise Moreau without bringing him to any
      decisive step. Moreau's natural indolence, and perhaps it may be said his
      good sense, induced him to adopt the maxim that it was necessary to let
      men and things take their course; for temporizing policy is often as
      useful in politics as in war. Besides, Moreau was a sincere Republican;
      and if his habit of indecision had permitted him to adopt any resolution,
      it is quite certain that he would not then have assisted in the
      reestablishment of the Bourbons, as Pichegru wished.
    
Fauche Borel's plan was to undermine Moreau without forcing him into any definite action. Moreau's natural laziness, and one might say his common sense, led him to believe in the idea that it was essential to let people and situations unfold as they would; for a wait-and-see approach can be just as effective in politics as it is in war. Moreover, Moreau was a true Republican; and if his tendency to hesitate had allowed him to make a decision, it's very likely that he wouldn’t have supported the return of the Bourbons, as Pichegru hoped.







      What I have stated is an indispensable introduction to the knowledge of
      plots of more importance which preceded the great event that marked the
      close of the Consulship: I allude to the conspiracy of Georges, Cadoudal,
      Moreau, and Pichegru, and that indelible stain on the character of
      Napoleon,—the death of the Duc d'Enghien. Different opinions have
      been expressed concerning Georges' conspiracy. I shall not contradict any
      of them. I will relate what I learned and what I saw, in order to throw
      some light on that horrible affair. I am far from believing what I have
      read in many works, that it was planned by the police in order to pave the
      First Consul's way to the throne. I think that it was contrived by those
      who were really interested in it, and encouraged by Fouché in order to
      prepare his return to office.
    
What I’ve mentioned is an essential introduction to understanding the more significant plots that led up to the major event marking the end of the Consulship: I’m talking about the conspiracy involving Georges, Cadoudal, Moreau, and Pichegru, and that unforgettable blemish on Napoleon’s reputation—the death of the Duc d'Enghien. There have been various opinions regarding Georges' conspiracy. I won’t dispute any of them. I’ll share what I learned and what I witnessed to shed some light on that terrible incident. I certainly don’t believe what I’ve read in many books, that it was orchestrated by the police to clear the way for the First Consul to take the throne. I believe it was actually plotted by those truly invested in it, with Fouché encouraging it to set the stage for his return to power.







      To corroborate my opinion respecting Fouché's conduct and his manoeuvres I
      must remind the reader that about the close of 1803 some persons conceived
      the project of reconciling Moreau and Pichegru. Fouché, who was then out
      of the Ministry, caused Moreau to be visited by men of his own party, and
      who were induced, perhaps unconsciously, by Fouché's art, to influence and
      irritate the general's mind. It was at first intended that the Abbe David,
      the mutual friend of Moreau and Pichegru, should undertake to effect their
      reconciliation; but he, being arrested and confined in the Temple, was
      succeeded by a man named Lajolais, whom every circumstance proves to have
      been employed by Fouché. He proceeded to London, and, having prevailed on
      Pichegru and his friends to return to France, he set off to announce their
      arrival and arrange everything for their reception and destruction.
      Moreau's discontent was the sole foundation of this intrigue. I remember
      that one day, about the end of January 1804, I called on Fouché, who
      informed me that he had been at St. Cloud, where he had had a long
      conversation with the First Consul on the situation of affairs. Bonaparte
      told him that he was satisfied with the existing police, and hinted that
      it was only to make himself of consequence that he had given a false
      colouring to the picture. Fouché asked him what he would say if he told
      him that Georges and Pichegru had been for some time in Paris carrying on
      the conspiracy of which he had received information. The First Consul,
      apparently delighted at what he conceived to be Fouché's mistake, said,
      with an air of contempt, "You are well informed, truly! Regnier has just
      received a letter from London stating that Pichegru dined three days ago
      at Kingston with one of the King of England's ministers."
    
To support my view on Fouché's actions and tactics, I want to remind the reader that around the end of 1803, some people had the idea of reconciling Moreau and Pichegru. Fouché, who was out of the Ministry at the time, arranged for Moreau to be visited by members of his own party, who were perhaps unwittingly influenced by Fouché's schemes to sway and provoke the general. Initially, it was supposed that the Abbe David, a mutual friend of Moreau and Pichegru, would facilitate their reconciliation; however, after he was arrested and taken to the Temple, a man named Lajolais took his place, and all evidence suggests that Lajolais was working for Fouché. He went to London, convinced Pichegru and his associates to return to France, and left to announce their arrival and plan for their reception and downfall. Moreau's dissatisfaction was the sole basis for this plot. I remember one day, around the end of January 1804, I visited Fouché, who told me he had been at St. Cloud, where he had a lengthy talk with the First Consul about the current situation. Bonaparte told him he was pleased with the police as it was and suggested he had only exaggerated the situation to make himself seem important. Fouché asked what Bonaparte would say if he told him that Georges and Pichegru had been in Paris for some time plotting the conspiracy of which he had received word. The First Consul, seemingly amused by what he believed to be Fouché's error, replied with disdain, "You are really well-informed! Regnier just got a letter from London saying that Pichegru dined three days ago at Kingston with one of the ministers of the King of England."







      As Fouché, however, persisted in his assertion, the First Consul sent to
      Paris for the Grand Judge, Regnier, who showed Fouché the letter he had
      received. The First Consul triumphed at first to see Fouché at fault; but
      the latter so clearly proved that Georges and Pichegru were actually in
      Paris that Regnier began to fear he had been misled by his agents, whom
      his rival paid better than he did. The First Consul, convinced that his
      old minister knew more than his new one, dismissed Regnier, and remained a
      long time in consultation with Fouché, who on that occasion said nothing
      about his reinstatement for fear of exciting suspicion. He only requested
      that the management of the business might be entrusted to Real, with
      orders to obey whatever instructions he might receive from him. I will
      return hereafter to the arrest of Moreau and the other persons accused,
      and will now subjoin the account of a long interview which I had with
      Bonaparte in the midst of these important events.
    
As Fouché kept insisting he was right, the First Consul called for the Grand Judge, Regnier, to come to Paris and show Fouché the letter he had received. At first, the First Consul felt victorious seeing Fouché in the wrong; however, Fouché convincingly proved that Georges and Pichegru were indeed in Paris, which made Regnier start to worry that he had been misled by his agents, who were being paid better by his rival. The First Consul, believing that his former minister knew more than his current one, let Regnier go and spent a long time consulting with Fouché, who didn’t mention his reinstatement for fear of raising suspicion. He simply asked that the management of the business be assigned to Real, with instructions to follow whatever orders he received from him. I will talk later about the arrest of Moreau and the other accused individuals, and now I will add the account of a lengthy conversation I had with Bonaparte during these significant events.







      On the 8th of March 1804, some time after the arrest but before the trial
      of General Moreau, I had an audience of the First Consul, which was
      unsought on my part. Bonaparte, after putting several unimportant
      questions to me as to what I was doing, what I expected he should do for
      me, and assuring me that he would bear me in mind, gave a sudden turn to
      the conversation, and said, "By the by, the report of my connection with
      Hortense is still kept up: the most abominable rumours have been spread as
      to her first child. I thought at the time that these reports had only been
      admitted by the public in consequence of the great desire that I should
      not be childless. Since you and I separated have you heard them repeated?"—"Yes,
      General, oftentimes; and I confess I could not have believed that this
      calumny would have existed so long."—"It is truly frightful to think
      of! You know the truth—you have seen all—heard all—nothing
      could have passed without your knowledge; you were in her full confidence
      during the time of her attachment to Duroc. I therefore expect, if you
      should ever write anything about me, that you will clear me from this
      infamous imputation. I would not have it accompany my name to posterity. I
      trust in you. You have never given credit to the horrid accusation?"—"No,
      General, never." Napoleon then entered into a number of details on the
      previous life of Hortense; on the way in which she conducted herself, and
      on the turn which her marriage had taken. "It has not turned out," he
      said, "as I wished: the union has not been a happy one. I am sorry for it,
      not only because both are dear to me, but because the circumstance
      countenances the infamous reports that are current among the idle as to my
      intimacy with her." He concluded the conversation with these words:—"Bourrienne,
      I sometimes think of recalling you; but as there is no good pretext for so
      doing, the world would say that I have need of you, and I wish it to be
      known that I stand in need of nobody." He again said a few words about
      Hortense. I answered that it would fully coincide with my conviction of
      the truth to do what he desired, and that I would do it; but that
      suppressing the false reports did not depend on me.
    
On March 8, 1804, some time after General Moreau's arrest but before his trial, I had an unrequested meeting with the First Consul. Bonaparte, after asking me a few trivial questions about what I was doing and what I hoped he would do for me, assured me he would keep me in mind and then suddenly changed the subject. He said, "By the way, the rumors about my connection with Hortense are still going around: the most awful stories have been spread about her first child. I used to think that these rumors were only accepted by the public because people desperately wanted me to have children. Since you and I last met, have you heard them again?"—"Yes, General, many times; and I honestly didn’t think this slander would last so long."—"It’s truly horrendous to think about! You know the truth—you’ve seen everything—heard everything—nothing could have happened without you knowing; you were in her full confidence during her relationship with Duroc. So, if you ever write anything about me, I expect you to clear me of this vile accusation. I wouldn’t want it to follow my name into the future. I trust you. You’ve never believed this horrendous claim?"—"No, General, never." Napoleon then went into several details about Hortense's past, how she behaved, and how her marriage had turned out. "It hasn't worked out," he said, "the marriage hasn’t been a happy one. I’m sorry about that, not only because both are dear to me, but because it supports the horrible rumors going around among gossipers about my relationship with her." He concluded the conversation by saying: "Bourrienne, I sometimes think about bringing you back; but since there’s no good reason for it, people would say I need you, and I want it to be known that I don’t need anyone." He mentioned Hortense a few more times. I replied that it would align with my belief in the truth to do what he wished, and that I would do it, but that stopping the false rumors was beyond my control.







      Hortense, in fact, while she was Mademoiselle BEAUHARNAIS, regarded
      Napoleon with respectful awe. She trembled when she spoke to him, and
      never dared to ask him a favour. When she had anything to solicit she
      applied to me; and if I experienced any difficulty in obtaining for her
      what she sought, I mentioned her as the person for whom I pleaded. "The
      little simpleton!" Napoleon would say, "why does she not ask me herself:
      is the girl afraid of me?" Napoleon never cherished for her any feeling
      but paternal tenderness. He loved her after his marriage with her mother
      as he would have loved his own child. During three years I was a witness
      to all their most private actions, and I declare that I never saw or heard
      anything that could furnish the least ground for suspicion, or that
      afforded the slightest trace of the existence of a culpable intimacy. This
      calumny must be classed among those with which malice delights to blacken
      the characters of men more brilliant than their fellows, and which are so
      readily adopted by the light-minded and unreflecting. I freely declare
      that did I entertain the smallest doubt with regard to this odious charge,
      of the existence of which I was well aware before Napoleon spoke to me on
      the subject, I would candidly avow it. He is no more: and let his memory
      be accompanied only by that, be it good or bad, which really belongs to
      it. Let not this reproach be one of those charged against him by the
      impartial historian. I must say, in concluding this delicate subject, that
      the principles of Napoleon on points of this kind were rigid in the utmost
      degree, and that a connection of the nature of that charged against him
      was neither in accordance with his morals nor his tastes.
    
Hortense, back when she was Mademoiselle BEAUHARNAIS, looked at Napoleon with a mix of respect and awe. She would get nervous when she talked to him and never felt bold enough to ask him for anything. Whenever she needed something, she would come to me, and if I had trouble getting it for her, I would mention her as the person I was advocating for. "The little simpleton!" Napoleon would say, "Why doesn’t she just ask me herself? Is she afraid of me?" Napoleon only felt a paternal kind of love for her. He cared for her after marrying her mother as if she were his own child. I spent three years observing their most private moments, and I can honestly say I never saw or heard anything that would give a reason for suspicion or indicate any inappropriate relationship. This slander belongs to the category that malicious people use to tarnish the reputations of those who shine brighter than others and is easily accepted by those who are thoughtless. I openly state that if I had even the slightest doubt about this horrible accusation, of which I was aware before Napoleon discussed it with me, I would admit it. He is no longer with us, and his memory should be associated only with what truly pertains to it, whether good or bad. Let this accusation not be one of those leveled against him by unbiased historians. In closing this sensitive topic, I must say that Napoleon’s principles regarding such matters were extremely strict, and a relationship like the one accused against him was completely out of line with his morals or preferences.







      I cannot tell whether what followed was a portion of his premeditated
      conversation with me, or whether it was the result of the satisfaction he
      had derived from ascertaining my perfect conviction of the purity of his
      conduct with regard to Hortense, and being assured that I would express
      that conviction. Be this as it may, as I was going out at the door he
      called me back, saying, "Oh! I have forgotten something." I returned.
      "Bourrienne," said he, "do you still keep up your acquaintance with the
      Fauchers?"—"Yes, General; I see them frequently."—"You are
      wrong."— "Why should I not? They are clever, well-educated men, and
      exceedingly pleasant company, especially Caesar. I derive great pleasure
      from their society; and then they are almost the only persons whose
      friendship has continued faithful to me since I left you. You know people
      do not care for those who can render them no service."—"Maret will
      not see the Fauchers."—"That may be, General; but it is nothing to
      me; and you must recollect that as it was through him I was introduced to
      them at the Tuileries, I think he ought to inform me of his reasons for
      dropping their acquaintance."—"I tell you again he has closed his
      door against them. Do you the same; I advise you." As I did not seem
      disposed to follow this advice without some plausible reason, the First
      Consul added, "You must know, then, that I learn from Caesar all that
      passes in your house. You do not speak very ill of me yourself, nor does
      any one venture to do so in your presence. You play your rubber and go to
      bed. But no sooner are you gone than your wife, who never liked me, and
      most of those who visit at your house, indulge in the most violent attacks
      upon me. I receive a bulletin from Caesar Faucher every day when he visits
      at your house; this is the way in which he requites you for your kindness,
      and for the asylum you afforded his brother.—[Constantine Rancher
      had been condemned in contumacy for the forgery of a public document.—Bourrienne.]—But
      enough; you see I know all—farewell;" and he left me.
    
I can't tell if what happened next was part of his planned conversation with me or if it came from the satisfaction he felt knowing I completely believed in the integrity of his actions regarding Hortense and that I would express that belief. Whatever the case, as I was leaving, he called me back, saying, "Oh! I forgot something." I turned back. "Bourrienne," he said, "are you still in touch with the Fauchers?"—"Yes, General; I see them often."—"You're mistaken."—"Why shouldn't I? They're smart, well-educated guys, and they’re really fun to be around, especially Caesar. I enjoy their company a lot; besides, they're almost the only friends I've had that have stayed loyal to me since I left you. You know people only care about those who can do something for them."—"Maret won’t see the Fauchers."—"That may be, General, but that doesn't matter to me. You have to remember that it was through him I met them at the Tuileries, so I think he should explain to me why he no longer wants to associate with them."—"I'm telling you again, he has closed his door to them. I advise you to do the same." Since I didn't seem inclined to take this advice without a good reason, the First Consul continued, "You should know that I hear everything that happens in your house from Caesar. You don’t speak badly of me yourself, nor does anyone dare to do so in front of you. You play your card game and go to bed. But as soon as you leave, your wife, who’s never liked me, and most of your guests, launch into the fiercest criticisms of me. I get a daily report from Caesar Faucher whenever he visits your home; this is how he repays you for your kindness and the refuge you offered his brother.—[Constantine Rancher was condemned in absentia for forging a public document.—Bourrienne.]—But that’s enough; you see I know everything—goodbye;" and he walked away.







      The grave having closed over these two brothers,—[The Fauchers were
      twin brothers, distinguished in the war of the Revolution, and made
      brigadier-generals at the same time on the field of battle. After the Cent
      Jours they refused to recognise the Bourbons, and were shot by sentence of
      court-martial at Bordeaux. (Bouillet)]—I shall merely state that
      they wrote me a letter the evening preceding their execution, in which
      they begged me to forgive their conduct towards me. The following is an
      extract from this letter:
    
The grave having closed over these two brothers,—[The Fauchers were twin brothers, known for their distinguished service in the Revolutionary War, and were both made brigadier-generals simultaneously on the battlefield. After the Cent Jours, they refused to recognize the Bourbons and were executed by court-martial in Bordeaux. (Bouillet)]—I’ll just mention that they sent me a letter the night before their execution, in which they asked for my forgiveness for their actions towards me. Here’s an excerpt from that letter:







      In our dungeon we hear our sentence of death being cried in the streets.
      To-morrow we shall walk to the scaffold; but we will meet death with such
      calmness and courage as shall make our executioners blush. We are sixty
      years old, therefore our lives will only be shortened by a brief space.
      During our lives we have shared in common, illness, grief, pleasure,
      danger, and good fortune. We both entered the world on the same day, and
      on the same day we shall both depart from it. As to you, sir....
    
In our dungeon, we hear our sentence of death being shouted in the streets. Tomorrow, we will walk to the scaffold, but we will face death with such calm and courage that it will make our executioners feel ashamed. We are sixty years old, so our lives will only be cut short by a short time. Throughout our lives, we have experienced illness, grief, joy, danger, and good luck together. We both came into this world on the same day, and on the same day, we will both leave it. As for you, sir...







      I suppress what relates to myself.
    
I hold back what concerns me.







      The hour of the grand levee arrived just as the singular interview which I
      have described terminated. I remained a short time to look at this
      phantasmagoria. Duroc was there. As soon as he saw me he came up, and
      taking me into the recess of a window told me that Moreau's guilt was
      evident, and that he was about to be put on his trial. I made some
      observations on the subject, and in particular asked whether there were
      sufficient proofs of his guilt to justify his condemnation? "They should
      be cautious," said I; "it is no joke to accuse the conqueror of
      Hohenlinden." Duroc's answer satisfied me that he at least had no doubt on
      the subject. "Besides," added he, "when such a general as Moreau has been
      between two gendarmes he is lost, and is good for nothing more. He will
      only inspire pity." In vain I tried to refute this assertion so entirely
      contrary to facts, and to convince Duroc that Moreau would never be
      damaged by calling him "brigand," as was the phrase then, without proofs.
      Duroc persisted in his opinion. As if a political crime ever sullied the
      honour of any one! The result has proved that I judged rightly.
    
The hour of the big gala arrived just as the unusual meeting I mentioned ended. I stayed for a short while to take in the scene. Duroc was there. As soon as he spotted me, he came over and led me into a corner by a window, telling me that Moreau's guilt was clear and that he was about to go on trial. I made a few comments on the matter, particularly asking if there was enough evidence to warrant his conviction. "They should be careful," I said; "it's not a small matter to accuse the conqueror of Hohenlinden." Duroc's response made it clear he had no doubts about it. "Besides," he added, "when someone like Moreau is between two gendarmes, he's done for and no longer useful. He'll only elicit pity." I tried in vain to argue against this claim, which completely contradicted the facts, and to convince Duroc that calling Moreau a "brigand," as people were saying back then, wouldn't harm him without evidence. Duroc stood firm in his belief. As if a political crime ever tarnished anyone's honor! The outcome later showed that I was right.







      No person possessing the least degree of intelligence will be convinced
      that the conspiracy of Moreau, Georges, Pichegru, and the other persons
      accused would ever have occurred but for the secret connivance of Fouché's
      police.
    
No one with even a small amount of intelligence will believe that the conspiracy involving Moreau, Georges, Pichegru, and the other accused individuals would have ever taken place without the covert support of Fouché's police.







      Moreau never for a moment desired the restoration of the Bourbons. I was
      too well acquainted with M. Carbonnet, his most intimate friend, to be
      ignorant of his private sentiments. It was therefore quite impossible that
      he could entertain the same views as Georges, the Polignacs, Riviera, and
      others; and they had no intention of committing any overt acts. These
      latter persons had come to the Continent solely to investigate the actual
      state of affairs, in order to inform the Princes of the House of Bourbon
      with certainty how far they might depend on the foolish hopes constantly
      held out to them by paltry agents, who were always ready to advance their
      own interests at the expense of truth. These agents did indeed conspire,
      but it was against the Treasury of London, to which they looked for pay.
    
Moreau never wanted the Bourbons back. I knew M. Carbonnet, his closest friend, well enough to understand his true feelings. So, it was completely unlikely that he shared the same views as Georges, the Polignacs, Riviera, and others; they had no plans to take any visible action. These people had come to the Continent just to check the real situation, so they could accurately report to the Princes of the House of Bourbon how much they could rely on the unrealistic hopes constantly promoted by lesser agents, who were always eager to push their own agendas at the cost of the truth. These agents were indeed conspiring, but it was against the Treasury of London, which was where they sought payment.







      Without entering into all the details of that great trial I will relate
      some facts which may assist in eliciting the truth from a chaos of
      intrigue and falsehood.
    
Without going into all the details of that major trial, I will share some facts that might help uncover the truth from a mess of intrigue and lies.







      Most of the conspirators had been lodged either in the Temple or La Force,
      and one of them, Bouvet de Lozier, who was confined in the Temple,
      attempted to hang himself. He made use of his cravat to effect his
      purpose, and had nearly succeeded, when a turnkey by chance entered and
      found him at the point of death. When he was recovered he acknowledged
      that though he had the courage to meet death, he was unable to endure the
      interrogatories of his trial, and that he had determined to kill himself,
      lest he might be induced to make a confession. He did in fact confess, and
      it was on the day after this occurred that Moreau was arrested, while on
      his way from his country-seat of Grosbois to Paris.
    
Most of the conspirators had been held either in the Temple or La Force, and one of them, Bouvet de Lozier, who was locked up in the Temple, tried to hang himself. He used his cravat for this purpose and nearly succeeded when a guard unexpectedly walked in and found him on the verge of death. Once he recovered, he admitted that while he had the courage to face death, he couldn't bear the questioning during his trial and had decided to take his own life so he wouldn't be pressured into confessing. Ultimately, he did confess, and the day after this happened, Moreau was arrested while traveling from his country home in Grosbois to Paris.







      Fouché, through the medium of his agents, had given Pichegru, Georges, and
      some other partisans of royalty, to understand that they might depend on
      Moreau, who, it was said, was quite prepared. It is certain that Moreau
      informed Pichegru that he (Pichegru) had been deceived, and that he had
      never been spoken to on the subject. Russillon declared on the trial that
      on the 14th of March the Polignacs said to some one, "Everything is going
      wrong—they do not understand each other. Moreau does not keep his
      word. We have been deceived." M. de Riviera declared that he soon became
      convinced they had been deceived, and was about to return to England when
      he was arrested. It is certain that the principal conspirators obtained
      positive information which confirmed their suspicions. They learned
      Moreau's declaration from Pichegru. Many of the accused declared that they
      soon discovered they had been deceived; and the greater part of them were
      about to quit Paris, when they were all arrested, almost at one and the
      same moment. Georges was going into La Vendée when he was betrayed by the
      man who, with the connivance of the police, had escorted him ever since
      his departure from London, and who had protected him from any interruption
      on the part of the police so long as it was only necessary to know where
      he was, or what he was about. Georges had been in Paris seven months
      before it was considered that the proper moment had arrived for arresting
      him.
    
Fouché, through his agents, had led Pichegru, Georges, and some other supporters of the monarchy to believe that they could count on Moreau, who was reportedly ready to act. It’s clear that Moreau told Pichegru that he had been misled and that no one had ever discussed the matter with him. During the trial, Russillon stated that on March 14, the Polignacs told someone, "Everything is going wrong—they're not in sync. Moreau isn’t keeping his promise. We’ve been fooled." M. de Riviera mentioned that he quickly realized they had been deceived and was about to head back to England when he got arrested. It’s a fact that the main conspirators received confirmed information that validated their doubts. They learned of Moreau's statement from Pichegru. Many of the accused said they soon realized they had been tricked; most were on the verge of leaving Paris when they were all arrested almost simultaneously. Georges was heading into La Vendée when he was betrayed by the man who, colluding with the police, had been escorting him since he left London and had ensured he faced no police interference as long as they just needed to know where he was or what he was doing. Georges had been in Paris for seven months before it was deemed the right time to arrest him.







      The almost simultaneous arrest of the conspirators proves clearly that the
      police knew perfectly well where they could lay their hands upon them.
    
The almost simultaneous arrest of the conspirators clearly shows that the police knew exactly where to find them.







      When Pichegru was required to sign his examination he refused. He said it
      was unnecessary; that, knowing all the secret machinery of the police, he
      suspected that by some chemical process they would erase all the writing
      except the signature, and afterwards fill up the paper with statements
      which he had never made. His refusal to sign the interrogatory, he added,
      would not prevent him from repeating before a court of justice the truth
      which he had stated in answer to the questions proposed to him. Fear was
      entertained of the disclosures he might make respecting his connection
      with Moreau, whose destruction was sought for, and also with respect to
      the means employed by the agents of Fouché to urge the conspirators to
      effect a change which they desired.
    
When Pichegru was asked to sign his examination, he refused. He said it was unnecessary; knowing all the behind-the-scenes operations of the police, he suspected that they would somehow erase everything except his signature and then fill out the document with statements he never made. He added that his refusal to sign the interrogatory wouldn’t stop him from telling the truth in court about what he had said in response to their questions. There were concerns about the revelations he might make regarding his connection to Moreau, who was targeted for destruction, as well as about the tactics used by Fouché's agents to push the conspirators toward the changes they wanted.







      On the evening of the 15th of February I heard of Moreau's arrest, and
      early next morning I proceeded straight to the Rue St. Pierre, where M.
      Carbonnet resided with his nephew. I was anxious to hear from him the
      particulars of the general's arrest. What was my surprise! I had hardly
      time to address myself to the porter before he informed me that M.
      Carbonnet and his nephew were both arrested. "I advise you, sir," added
      the man, "to retire without more ado, for I can assure you that the
      persons who visit M. Carbonnet are watched."—"Is he still at home?"
      said I. "Yes, Sir; they are examining his papers."—"Then," said I,
      "I will go up." M. Carbonnet, of whose friendship I had reason to be
      proud, and whose memory will ever be dear to me, was more distressed by
      the arrest of his nephew and Moreau than by his own. His nephew was,
      however, liberated after a few hours. M. Carbonnet's papers were sealed
      up, and he was placed in solitary confinement at St. Pelagic.
    
On the evening of February 15th, I found out about Moreau's arrest, and early the next morning, I went directly to Rue St. Pierre, where M. Carbonnet lived with his nephew. I was eager to hear the details of the general's arrest from him. To my surprise, I barely had time to speak to the porter before he told me that both M. Carbonnet and his nephew had been arrested. "I advise you, sir," the man added, "to leave right away, because I can assure you that anyone who visits M. Carbonnet is being watched." — "Is he still at home?" I asked. "Yes, Sir; they are examining his papers." — "Then," I said, "I will go up." M. Carbonnet, whose friendship I valued highly and whose memory will always be cherished, was more upset by the arrest of his nephew and Moreau than by his own situation. However, his nephew was released after a few hours. M. Carbonnet's papers were sealed, and he was placed in solitary confinement at St. Pelagic.







      Thus the police, who previously knew nothing, were suddenly informed of
      all. In spite of the numerous police agents scattered over France, it was
      only discovered by the declarations of Bouvet de Lozier that three
      successive landings had been effected, and that a fourth was expected,
      which, however, did not take place, because General Savary was despatched
      by the First Consul with orders to seize the persons whose arrival was
      looked for. There cannot be a more convincing proof of the fidelity of the
      agents of the police to their old chief, and their combined determination
      of trifling with their new one,
    
Thus, the police, who had previously known nothing, were suddenly informed about everything. Despite the many police agents spread across France, it was only through Bouvet de Lozier’s statements that it was discovered that three successive landings had happened, and that a fourth was expected, which ultimately didn’t occur because General Savary was sent by the First Consul with orders to apprehend the individuals whose arrival was anticipated. This situation is a clear indication of the loyalty of the police agents to their former leader and their collective determination to undermine the new one.








 


 




















      CHAPTER XXII.
    



      1804.
    
1804.


   The events of 1804—Death of the Duc d'Enghien—Napoleon's arguments
   at St. Helena—Comparison of dates—Possibility of my having saved
   the Duc d'Enghien's life—Advice given to the Duc d'Enghien—Sir
   Charles Stuart—Delay of the Austrian Cabinet—Pichegru and the
   mysterious being—M. Massias—The historians of St. Helena—
   Bonaparte's threats against the emigrants and M. Cobentzel—
   Singular adventure of Davoust's secretary—The quartermaster—
   The brigand of La Vendée.

   The events of 1804—Death of the Duc d'Enghien—Napoleon's arguments at St. Helena—Comparison of dates—Possibility of me having saved the Duc d'Enghien's life—Advice given to the Duc d'Enghien—Sir Charles Stuart—Delay of the Austrian Cabinet—Pichegru and the mysterious figure—M. Massias—The historians of St. Helena—Bonaparte's threats against the emigrants and M. Cobentzel—Strange adventure of Davoust's secretary—The quartermaster—The brigand of La Vendée.







      In order to form a just idea of the events which succeeded each other so
      rapidly at the commencement of 1804 it is necessary to consider them both
      separately and connectedly. It must be borne in mind that all Bonaparte's
      machinations tended to one object, the foundation of the French Empire in
      his favour; and it is also essential to consider how the situation of the
      emigrants, in reference to the First Consul, had changed since the
      declaration of war. As long as Bonaparte continued at peace the cause of
      the Bourbons had no support in foreign Cabinets, and the emigrants had no
      alternative but to yield to circumstances; but on the breaking out of a
      new war all was changed. The cause of the Bourbons became that of the
      powers at war with France; and as many causes concurred to unite the
      emigrants abroad with those who had returned but half satisfied, there was
      reason to fear something from their revolt, in combination with the powers
      arrayed against Bonaparte.
    
To get a clear understanding of the events that unfolded so quickly at the start of 1804, it’s important to look at them both separately and as a whole. It's crucial to remember that all of Bonaparte's schemes aimed at one goal: establishing the French Empire for himself. We also need to take into account how the situation of the emigrants, concerning the First Consul, had shifted since the declaration of war. As long as Bonaparte was at peace, the Bourbon cause lacked support from foreign governments, and the emigrants had no choice but to accept the circumstances. But with the outbreak of a new war, everything changed. The Bourbon cause aligned with the powers at war against France; and since many factors came together to connect the emigrants abroad with those who returned feeling only partially satisfied, there was a real concern about a potential revolt in alliance with the powers opposing Bonaparte.







      Such was the state of things with regard to the emigrants when the leaders
      and accomplices of Georges' conspiracy were arrested at the very beginning
      of 1804. The assassination of the Duc d'Enghien
    
Such was the situation with the emigrants when the leaders and accomplices of Georges' conspiracy were arrested at the very beginning of 1804. The assassination of the Duc d'Enghien






 —[Louis Antoine Henri de Bourbon, Duc d'Enghien (1772-1804), son of
   the Duc de Bourbon, and grandson of the Prince de Condé, served
   against France in the army of Condé. When this force was disbanded
   he stayed at Ettenheim on account of a love affair with the
   Princesse Charlotte de Rohan-Rochefort. Arrested in the territory
   of Baden, he was taken to Vincennes, and after trial by
   court-martial shot in the moat, 21st May 1804. With him
   practically ended the house of Bourbon-Condé as his grandfather
   died in 1818, leaving only the Duc de Bourbon, and the Princesee
   Louise Adelaide, Abbesse de Remiremont, who died in 1824.]— 
—[Louis Antoine Henri de Bourbon, Duc d'Enghien (1772-1804), the son of the Duc de Bourbon and the grandson of the Prince de Condé, fought against France in the army of Condé. When this army was disbanded, he remained in Ettenheim due to a romance with Princesse Charlotte de Rohan-Rochefort. He was arrested in Baden, taken to Vincennes, and after a trial by court-martial, executed in the moat on May 21, 1804. With his death, the house of Bourbon-Condé virtually came to an end as his grandfather passed away in 1818, leaving only the Duc de Bourbon and the Princesse Louise Adelaide, Abbesse de Remiremont, who died in 1824.]—







      took place on the 21st of March; on the 30th of April appeared the
      proposition of the Tribunate to found a Government in France under the
      authority of one individual; on the 18th of May came the
      'Senatus-consulte', naming Napoleon Bonaparte EMPEROR, and lastly, on the
      10th. of June, the sentence of condemnation on Georges and his
      accomplices. Thus the shedding of the blood of a Bourbon, and the placing
      of the crown of France on the head of a soldier of fortune were two acts
      interpolated in the sanguinary drama of Georges' conspiracy. It must be
      remembered, too, that during the period of these events we were at war
      with England, and on the point of seeing Austria and the Colossus of the
      north form a coalition against the new Emperor.
    
took place on March 21st; on April 30th, the Tribunate proposed establishing a government in France under the authority of one individual; on May 18th, the 'Senatus-consulte' was issued, naming Napoleon Bonaparte EMPEROR, and finally, on June 10th, came the sentence condemning Georges and his accomplices. Thus, the shedding of Bourbon blood and placing the crown of France on the head of a soldier of fortune were two events interwoven in the bloody saga of Georges' conspiracy. It should also be noted that during this time, we were at war with England and were about to see Austria and the Colossus of the North form a coalition against the new Emperor.







      I will now state all I know relative to the death of the Duc d'Enghien.
      That unfortunate Prince, who was at Ettenheim, in consequence of a love
      affair, had no communication whatever with those who were concocting a
      plot in the interior. Machiavelli says that when the author of a crime
      cannot be discovered we should seek for those to whose advantage it turns.
      In the present case Machiavelli's advice will find an easy application,
      since the Duke's death could be advantageous only to Bonaparte, who
      considered it indispensable to his accession to the crown of France. The
      motives may be explained, but can they be justified? How could it ever be
      said that the Duc d'Enghien perished as a presumed accomplice in the
      conspiracy of Georges?
    
I will now share everything I know about the death of the Duc d'Enghien. That tragic prince, who was at Ettenheim because of a romantic affair, had no contact whatsoever with those plotting in the background. Machiavelli says that when we can't find the author of a crime, we should look for those who would benefit from it. In this case, Machiavelli's advice applies easily, since the Duke's death could only benefit Bonaparte, who deemed it essential for his rise to the French crown. The motives can be explained, but can they be justified? How could anyone claim that the Duc d'Enghien was killed as a supposed accomplice in Georges' conspiracy?







      Moreau was arrested on the 15th of February 1804, at which time the
      existence of the conspiracy was known. Pichegru and Georges were also
      arrested in February, and the Duc d'Enghien not till the 15th of March.
      Now if the Prince had really been concerned in the plot, if even he had a
      knowledge of it, would he have remained at Ettenheim for nearly a month
      after the arrest of his presumed accomplices, intelligence of which he
      might have obtained in the space of three days? Certainly not. So ignorant
      was he of that conspiracy that when informed at Ettenheim of the affair he
      doubted it, declaring that if it were true his father and grandfather
      would have made him acquainted with it. Would so long an interval have
      been suffered to elapse before he was arrested? Alas! cruel experience has
      shown that that step would have been taken in a few hours.
    
Moreau was arrested on February 15, 1804, at which point the conspiracy was already known. Pichegru and Georges were also arrested in February, while the Duc d'Enghien wasn't taken into custody until March 15. Now, if the Prince had truly been involved in the plot or even just aware of it, would he have stayed in Ettenheim for almost a month after the arrests of his supposed accomplices, news of which he could have learned within three days? Absolutely not. He was so unaware of the conspiracy that when he found out about it in Ettenheim, he doubted the information, stating that if it were true, his father and grandfather would have informed him. Would such a long delay have occurred before he was arrested? Sadly, past events have shown that action would have been taken within a few hours.







      The sentence of death against Georges and his accomplices was not
      pronounced till the 10th of June 1804, and the Duc d'Enghien was shot on
      the 21st of March, before the trials were even commenced. How is this
      precipitation to be explained? If, as Napoleon has declared, the young
      Bourbon was an accomplice in the crime, why was he not arrested at the
      time the others were? Why was he not tried along with them, on the ground
      of his being an actual accomplice; or of being compromised, by
      communications with them; or, in short, because his answers might have
      thrown light on that mysterious affair? How was it that the name of the
      illustrious accused was not once mentioned in the course of that awful
      trial?
    
The death sentence for Georges and his accomplices wasn't handed down until June 10, 1804, yet the Duc d'Enghien was executed on March 21, before the trials even began. How can this rush be explained? If, as Napoleon claimed, the young Bourbon was involved in the crime, then why wasn't he arrested at the same time as the others? Why wasn't he tried with them, since he was supposedly an actual accomplice, or at least connected through conversations with them? And, shouldn’t his testimony have shed light on that mysterious case? How is it that the name of the prominent accused was never mentioned during that terrible trial?







      It can scarcely be conceived that Napoleon could say at St. Helena,
      "Either they contrived to implicate the unfortunate Prince in their
      project, and so pronounced his doom, or, by omitting to inform him of what
      was going on, allowed him imprudently to slumber on the brink of a
      precipice; for he was only a stone's cast from the frontier when they were
      about to strike the great blow in the name and for the interest of his
      family."
    
It’s hard to believe that Napoleon said at St. Helena, "Either they managed to involve the unfortunate Prince in their scheme, sealing his fate, or by not telling him what was happening, they let him foolishly rest right at the edge of a cliff; he was just a stone’s throw from the border when they were ready to deliver the major blow in the name and for the benefit of his family."







      This reasoning is not merely absurd, it is atrocious. If the Duke was
      implicated by the confession of his accomplices, he should have been
      arrested and tried along with them. Justice required this. If he was not
      so implicated, where is the proof of his guilt? Because some individuals,
      without his knowledge, plotted to commit a crime in the name of his family
      he was to be shot! Because he was 130 leagues from the scene of the plot,
      and had no connection with it, he was to die! Such arguments cannot fail
      to inspire horror. It is absolutely impossible any reasonable person can
      regard the Duc d'Enghien as an accomplice of Cadoudal; and Napoleon basely
      imposed on his contemporaries and posterity by inventing such falsehoods,
      and investing them with the authority of his name.
    
This reasoning is not just ridiculous, it's appalling. If the Duke was involved because of the testimony of his accomplices, he should have been arrested and tried alongside them. Justice demanded that. If he wasn't involved, where's the evidence of his guilt? Just because some people plotted a crime in his family's name without him knowing, he was to be executed! Because he was 130 leagues away from where the plan took place and had no connection to it, he was supposed to die! Such arguments are sure to provoke outrage. It's completely impossible for any reasonable person to view the Duc d'Enghien as an accomplice of Cadoudal; and Napoleon shamelessly misled his peers and future generations by creating such lies and giving them the weight of his authority.







      Had I been then in the First Consul's intimacy I may aver, with as much
      confidence as pride, that the blood of the Duc d'Enghien would not have
      imprinted an indelible stain on the glory of Bonaparte. In this terrible
      matter I could have done what no one but me could even attempt, and this
      on account of my position, which no one else has since held with
      Bonaparte. I quite admit that he would have preferred others to me, and
      that he would have had more friendship for them than for me, supposing
      friendship to be compatible with the character of Bonaparte, but I knew
      him better than any one else. Besides, among those who surrounded him I
      alone could have permitted myself some return to our former familiarity on
      account of our intimacy of childhood. Certainly, in a matter which
      permanently touched the glory of Bonaparte, I should not have been
      restrained by the fear of some transitory fit of anger, and the reader has
      seen that I did not dread disgrace. Why should I have dreaded it? I had
      neither portfolio, nor office, nor salary, for, as I have said, I was only
      with Bonaparte as a friend, and we had, as it were, a common purse. I feel
      a conviction that it would have been very possible for me to have
      dissuaded Bonaparte from his fatal design, inasmuch as I positively know
      that his object, after the termination of the peace, was merely to
      frighten the emigrants, in order to drive them from Ettenheim, where great
      numbers, like the Duc d'Enghien, had sought refuge. His anger was
      particularly directed against a Baroness de Reith and a Baroness
      d'Ettengein, who had loudly vituperated him, and distributed numerous
      libels on the left bank of the Rhine. At that period Bonaparte had as
      little design against the Duc d'Enghien's life as against that of any
      other emigrant. He was more inclined to frighten than to harm him, and
      certainly his first intention was not to arrest the Prince, but, as I have
      said, to frighten the 'emigres', and to drive them to a distance. I must,
      however, admit that when Bonaparte spoke to Rapp and Duroc of the
      emigrants on the other side of the Rhine he expressed himself with much
      irritability: so much so, indeed, that M. de Talleyrand, dreading its
      effects for the Duc d'Enghien, warned that Prince, through the medium of a
      lady to whom he was attached, of his danger, and advised him to proceed to
      a greater distance from the frontier. On receiving this notice the Prince
      resolved to rejoin his grandfather, which he could not do but by passing
      through the Austrian territory. Should any doubt exist as to these facts
      it may be added that Sir Charles Stuart wrote to M. de Cobentzel to
      solicit a passport for the Duc d'Enghien; and it was solely owing to the
      delay of the Austrian Cabinet that time was afforded for the First Consul
      to order the arrest of the unfortunate Prince as soon as he had formed the
      horrible resolution of shedding the blood of a Bourbon. This resolution
      could have originated only with himself, for who would have dared to
      suggest it to him? The fact is, Bonaparte knew not what he did. His fever
      of ambition amounted to delirium; and he knew not how he was losing
      himself in public opinion because he did not know that opinion, to gain
      which he would have made every sacrifice.
    
If I had been close to the First Consul back then, I can confidently say, with both assurance and pride, that the blood of the Duc d'Enghien would not have left a lasting stain on Bonaparte's glory. In this dreadful situation, I could have done what no one else could even attempt, due to my unique position beside Bonaparte, which no one else has held since. I admit that he would have preferred others over me and would have been closer to them than to me, assuming friendship was even possible for someone like Bonaparte, but I understood him better than anyone else. Also, among those around him, I alone could have rekindled some of our old familiarity due to our childhood bond. Certainly, in a matter that had a lasting impact on Bonaparte's honor, I wouldn't have been held back by the fear of a momentary outburst, and as you've seen, I wasn't afraid of disgrace. Why should I have been? I held no portfolio, no position, and no salary; as I've said, I was simply a friend of Bonaparte, and we essentially shared everything. I genuinely believe it would have been very possible for me to dissuade Bonaparte from his disastrous intentions because I know for certain that his goal, after the peace ended, was just to intimidate the emigrants to drive them away from Ettenheim, where many, including the Duc d'Enghien, had taken refuge. He was particularly angry with Baroness de Reith and Baroness d'Ettengein, who had openly criticized him and spread many slanders on the left bank of the Rhine. At that time, Bonaparte had no intention of harming the Duc d'Enghien any more than he did other emigrants. He was more interested in scaring him than in doing any real damage. His initial plan was not to capture the Prince but, as I've said, to intimidate the emigrants and force them to flee. However, I must admit that when Bonaparte spoke to Rapp and Duroc about the emigrants across the Rhine, he showed a lot of irritation; so much so that M. de Talleyrand, fearing for the Duc d'Enghien, alerted him through a woman he was close to, advising him to distance himself from the border. After receiving this warning, the Prince decided to go back to his grandfather, which meant he had to pass through Austrian territory. To eliminate any doubt about these events, it's worth mentioning that Sir Charles Stuart wrote to M. de Cobentzel to request a passport for the Duc d'Enghien, and it was solely the delay of the Austrian government that gave the First Consul the opportunity to order the arrest of the unfortunate Prince as soon as he had made the terrible decision to take the blood of a Bourbon. This decision could only have come from him; who would have dared suggest it to him? The truth is, Bonaparte was not in control of his actions. His ambition had reached a feverish pitch, and he was unaware of how his actions were damaging his public standing because he didn't understand public opinion, which he would have done anything to win over.







      When Cambacérès (who, with a slight reservation, had voted the death of
      Louis XVI.) warmly opposed in the Council the Duc d'Enghien's arrest, the
      First Consul observed to him, "Methinks, Sir, you have grown very chary of
      Bourbon blood!"
    
When Cambacérès (who, with a slight reservation, had voted for the execution of Louis XVI) strongly opposed the Duc d'Enghien's arrest in the Council, the First Consul remarked to him, "I think, Sir, you've become quite cautious about Bourbon blood!"







      Meanwhile the Duc d'Enghien was at Ettenheim, indulging in hope rather
      than plotting conspiracies. It is well known that an individual made an
      offer to the Prince de Condé to assassinate the First Consul, but the
      Prince indignantly rejected the proposition, and nobly refused to recover
      the rights of the Bourbons at the price of such a crime. The individual
      above-mentioned was afterwards discovered to be an agent of the Paris
      police, who had been commissioned to draw the Princes into a plot which
      would have ruined them, for public feeling revolts at assassination under
      any circumstances.
    
Meanwhile, the Duc d'Enghien was at Ettenheim, holding onto hope instead of scheming conspiracies. It’s well known that someone offered the Prince de Condé a plan to assassinate the First Consul, but the Prince firmly rejected the idea and nobly refused to regain the Bourbons' rights at the cost of such a crime. The person mentioned above was later found to be a spy for the Paris police, who had been tasked with luring the Princes into a plot that would have destroyed them, as public sentiment opposes assassination in any situation.







      It has been alleged that Louis XVIII.'s refusal to treat with Bonaparte
      led to the fatal catastrophe of the Duc d'Enghien's death. The first
      correspondence between Louis XVIII. and the First Consul, which has been
      given in these Memoirs, clearly proves the contrary. It is certainly
      probable that Louis XVIII.'s refusal to renounce his rights should have
      irritated Bonaparte. But it was rather late to take his revenge two years
      after, and that too on a Prince totally ignorant of those overtures. It is
      needless to comment on such absurdities. It is equally unnecessary to
      speak of the mysterious being who often appeared at meetings in the
      Faubourg St. Germain, and who was afterwards discovered to be Pichegru.
    
It’s been said that Louis XVIII's refusal to negotiate with Bonaparte caused the tragic death of the Duc d'Enghien. However, the initial correspondence between Louis XVIII and the First Consul, as recorded in these Memoirs, clearly shows the opposite. It’s quite likely that Louis XVIII's refusal to give up his claims angered Bonaparte. But waiting two years to take revenge, especially against a Prince who was completely unaware of those negotiations, seems rather extreme. There's no need to comment on such nonsense. Similarly, there’s no need to discuss the mysterious figure who often showed up at meetings in the Faubourg St. Germain, later revealed to be Pichegru.







      A further light is thrown on this melancholy catastrophe by a conversation
      Napoleon had, a few days after his elevation to the imperial throne, with
      M. Masaias, the French Minister at the Court of the Grand Duke of Baden.
      This conversation took place at Aix-la-Chapelle. After some remarks on the
      intrigues of the emigrants Bonaparte observed, "You ought at least to have
      prevented the plots which the Duc d'Enghien was hatching at Ettenheim."—"Sire,
      I am too old to learn to tell a falsehood. Believe me, on this subject
      your Majesty's ear has been abused."—"Do you not think, then, that
      had the conspiracy of Georges and Pichegru proved successful, the Prince
      would have passed the Rhine, and have come post to Paris?"
    
A further light is shed on this tragic situation by a conversation Napoleon had a few days after becoming emperor with M. Masaias, the French Minister at the Court of the Grand Duke of Baden. This talk happened in Aix-la-Chapelle. After discussing the schemes of the émigrés, Bonaparte remarked, "You should have at least stopped the plots that Duc d'Enghien was planning in Ettenheim."—"Sire, I’m too old to learn how to lie. Trust me, your Majesty has been misled on this matter."—"Do you not believe that if Georges and Pichegru's conspiracy had succeeded, the Prince would have crossed the Rhine and rushed to Paris?"







      M. Massias, from whom I had these particulars, added, "At this last
      question of the Emperor I hung down my head and was silent, for I saw he
      did not wish to hear the truth."
    
M. Massias, from whom I got this information, added, "At the Emperor's last question, I lowered my head and stayed quiet because I could tell he didn't want to hear the truth."







      Now let us consider, with that attention which the importance of the
      subject demands, what has been said by the historians of St. Helena.
    
Now, let's take a closer look, as the importance of the topic requires, at what the historians of St. Helena have said.







      Napoleon said to his companions in exile that "the Duc d'Enghien's death
      must be attributed either to an excess of zeal for him (Napoleon), to
      private views, or to mysterious intrigues. He had been blindly urged on;
      he was, if he might say so, taken by surprise. The measure was
      precipitated, and the result predetermined."
    
Napoleon told his fellow exiles that "the Duc d'Enghien's death can be explained by either too much enthusiasm for him (Napoleon), personal motives, or secret plots. He had been pushed forward without question; he was, if he may put it that way, caught off guard. The decision was rushed, and the outcome was already decided."







      This he might have said; but if he did so express himself, how are we to
      reconcile such a declaration with the statement of O'Meara? How give
      credit to assertions so very opposite?
    
This is what he might have said; but if he did say that, how do we make sense of such a statement alongside O'Meara's? How can we believe claims that are so completely contradictory?







      Napoleon said to M. de Las Casas:
    
Napoleon told M. de Las Casas:






   "One day when alone, I recollect it well, I was taking my coffee,
   half seated on the table at which I had just dined, when suddenly
   information was brought to me that a new conspiracy had been
   discovered. I was warmly urged to put an end to these enormities;
   they represented to me that it was time at last to give a lesson to
   those who had been day after day conspiring against my life; that
   this end could only be attained by shedding the blood of one of
   them; and that the Duc d'Enghien, who might now be convicted of
   forming part of this new conspiracy, and taken in the very act,
   should be that one. It was added that he had been seen at
   Strasburg; that it was even believed that he had been in Paris; and
   that the plan was that he should enter France by the east at the
   moment of the explosion, whilst the Duc de Berri was disembarking in
   the west. I should tell you," observed the Emperor, "that I did not
   even know precisely who the Duc d'Enghien was (the Revolution having
   taken place when I was yet a very young man, and I having never been
   at Court), and that I was quite in the dark as to where he was at
   that moment. Having been informed on those points I exclaimed that
   if such were the case the Duke ought to be arrested, and that orders
   should be given to that effect. Everything had been foreseen and
   prepared; the different orders were already drawn up, nothing
   remained to be done but to sign them, and the fate of the young
   Prince was thus decided."

   "One day when I was alone, I remember it clearly, I was having my coffee, half-seated at the table where I had just dined, when suddenly I was told that a new conspiracy had been uncovered. I was strongly urged to put a stop to these outrageous acts; they insisted that it was time to teach a lesson to those who had been plotting against my life day after day; that this could only be accomplished by taking the life of one of them; and that the Duc d'Enghien, who might now be implicated in this new conspiracy and caught in the act, should be that person. They added that he had been seen in Strasburg; that it was even believed he had been in Paris; and that the plan was for him to enter France from the east at the moment of the explosion, while the Duc de Berri was landing in the west. I should mention," the Emperor noted, "that I didn’t even know exactly who the Duc d'Enghien was (the Revolution had occurred when I was still very young, and I had never been at Court), and that I had no idea where he was at that moment. Once I was briefed on those details, I exclaimed that if that was the case, the Duke should be arrested, and that orders should be given accordingly. Everything had been anticipated and set up; the various orders were already drafted, and all that remained was to sign them, sealing the fate of the young Prince."







      Napoleon next asserts that in the Duke's arrest and condemnation all the
      usual forms were strictly observed. But he has also declared that the
      death of that unfortunate Prince will be an eternal reproach to those who,
      carried away by a criminal zeal, waited not for their Sovereign's orders
      to execute the sentence of the court-martial. He would, perhaps, have
      allowed the Prince to live; but yet he said, "It is true I wished to make
      an example which should deter."
    
Napoleon then claims that all the standard procedures were strictly followed in the Duke's arrest and sentencing. However, he also stated that the death of that unfortunate Prince will forever be a shameful mark for those who, driven by a reckless passion, rushed to carry out the court-martial's sentence without waiting for their Sovereign's orders. He might have let the Prince live; still, he said, "It's true I wanted to set an example that would deter others."







      It has been said that the Duc d'Enghien addressed a letter to Napoleon,
      which was not delivered till after the execution. This is false and
      absurd! How could that Prince write to Bonaparte to offer him his services
      and to solicit the command of an army? His interrogatory makes no mention
      of this letter, and is in direct opposition to the sentiments which that
      letter would attribute to him. The truth is, no such letter ever existed.
      The individual who was with the Prince declared he never wrote it. It will
      never be believed that any one would have presumed to withhold from
      Bonaparte a letter on which depended the fate of so august a victim.
    
It has been claimed that the Duc d'Enghien wrote a letter to Napoleon, which wasn't delivered until after his execution. This is false and ridiculous! How could that prince write to Bonaparte to offer his services and ask for command of an army? His interrogation doesn't mention this letter and contradicts the feelings that such a letter would suggest he had. The truth is, no such letter ever existed. The person who was with the prince stated he never wrote it. It will never be believed that someone would dare to withhold from Bonaparte a letter that determined the fate of such a prominent victim.







      In his declarations to his companions in exile Napoleon endeavoured either
      to free himself of this crime or to justify it. His fear or his
      susceptibility was such, that in discoursing with strangers he merely
      said, that had he known of the Prince's letter, which was not delivered to
      him.—God knows why!—until after he had breathed his last, he
      would have pardoned him. But at a subsequent date he traced, with his own
      hand, his last thoughts, which he supposed would be consecrated in the
      minds of his contemporaries, and of posterity. Napoleon, touching on the
      subject which he felt would be one of the most important attached to his
      memory, said that if the thing were to do again he would act as he then
      did. How does this declaration tally with his avowal, that if he had
      received the Prince's letter he should have lived? This is irreconcilable.
      But if we compare all that Napoleon said at St. Helena, and which has been
      transmitted to us by his faithful followers; if we consider his
      contradictions when speaking of the Duc d'Enghien's death to strangers, to
      his friends, to the public, or to posterity, the question ceases to be
      doubtful. Bonaparte wished to strike a blow which would terrify his
      enemies. Fancying that the Duc de Berri was ready to land in France, he
      despatched his aide de camp Savary, in disguise, attended by gendarmes, to
      watch the Duke's landing at Biville, near Dieppe. This turned out a
      fruitless mission. The Duke was warned in time not to attempt the useless
      and dangerous enterprise, and Bonaparte, enraged to see one prey escape
      him, pounced upon another. It is well known that Bonaparte often, and in
      the presence even of persons whom he conceived to have maintained
      relations with the partisans of the Bourbons at Paris, expressed himself
      thus: "I will put an end to these conspiracies. If any of the emigrants
      conspire they shall be shot. I have been told that Cobentzel harbours some
      of them. I do not believe this; but if it be true, Cobentzel shall be
      arrested and shot along with them. I will let the Bourbons know I am not
      to be trifled with." The above statement of facts accounts for the
      suppositions respecting the probable influence of the Jacobins in this
      affair. It has been said, not without some appearance of reason, that to
      get the Jacobins to help him to ascend the throne Bonaparte consented to
      sacrifice a victim of the blood royal, as the only pledge capable of
      ensuring them against the return of the proscribed family. Be this as it
      may, there are no possible means of relieving Bonaparte from his share of
      guilt in the death of the Duc d'Enghien.
    
In his statements to his fellow exiles, Napoleon tried either to distance himself from this crime or to justify it. His anxiety or sensitivity was such that when talking to strangers, he only mentioned that if he had known about the Prince's letter—which he never received, for reasons unknown—until after the Prince had died, he would have forgiven him. Later, he documented his final thoughts, believing they would be recognized by his contemporaries and future generations. Napoleon, addressing a subject he considered crucial to his legacy, claimed that if he had the chance to act again, he would do exactly the same. How does this statement align with his claim that if he had received the Prince's letter, he would have survived? This contradiction is irreconcilable. However, if we compare everything Napoleon said at St. Helena, as recorded by his loyal followers, and if we consider his inconsistencies when discussing the Duc d'Enghien's death—whether to strangers, friends, the public, or future generations—the issue becomes clear. Bonaparte aimed to deliver a blow that would instill fear in his enemies. Thinking that the Duc de Berri was about to land in France, he sent his aide de camp Savary, in disguise and accompanied by gendarmes, to monitor the Duke's landing at Biville, near Dieppe. This mission ended up being in vain. The Duke was warned in time not to undertake the pointless and perilous venture, and enraged that one target had slipped away, Bonaparte turned his focus on another. It is well known that Bonaparte often claimed, even in front of people he suspected of keeping connections with the Bourbon supporters in Paris, "I will put an end to these conspiracies. If any of the exiles plot against me, they will be shot. I've been told that Cobentzel is hiding some of them. I don't believe it, but if it's true, Cobentzel will be arrested and shot alongside them. I'll make the Bourbons understand I'm not someone to be trifled with." This statement explains the assumptions regarding the possible influence of the Jacobins in this matter. It has been suggested, with some validity, that Bonaparte agreed to sacrifice a member of the royal bloodline to secure support from the Jacobins for his rise to power, as this was the only guarantee against the return of the exiled family. Regardless, there is no way to absolve Bonaparte from his guilt concerning the death of the Duc d'Enghien.







      To the above facts, which came within my own knowledge, I may add the
      following curious story, which was related to me by an individual who
      himself heard it from the secretary of General Davoust.
    
To the facts I know personally, I can add this interesting story that someone shared with me; they heard it directly from General Davoust's secretary.







      Davoust was commanding a division in the camp of Boulogne, and his
      secretary when proceeding thither to join him met in the diligence a man
      who seemed to be absorbed in affliction. This man during the whole journey
      never once broke silence but by some deep sighs, which he had not power to
      repress. General Davoust's secretary observed him with curiosity and
      interest, but did not venture to intrude upon his grief by any
      conversation. The concourse of travellers from Paris to the camp was,
      however, at that time very great, and the inn at which the diligence
      stopped in the evening was so crowded that it was impossible to assign a
      chamber to each traveller. Two, therefore, were put into one room, and it
      so happened that the secretary was lodged with his mysterious travelling
      companion.
    
Davoust was in charge of a division at the camp in Boulogne, and his secretary, on his way to meet him, encountered a man on the coach who appeared to be deeply troubled. This man didn’t say a word throughout the entire journey, only letting out some heavy sighs that he couldn’t hold back. General Davoust's secretary felt curious and concerned about him but refrained from interrupting his sorrow with conversation. However, there were many travelers going from Paris to the camp at that time, and the inn where the coach stopped in the evening was so packed that they couldn’t give each traveler their own room. As a result, two people were put in one room, and it turned out that the secretary had to share his accommodations with this mysterious fellow traveler.







      When they were alone he addressed him in a torso of interest which
      banished all appearance of intrusion. He inquired whether the cause of his
      grief was of a nature to admit of any alleviation, and offered to render
      him any assistance in his power. "Sir," replied the stranger, "I am much
      obliged for the sympathy you express for me—I want nothing. There is
      no possible consolation for me. My affliction can end only with my life.
      You shall judge for yourself, for the interest you seem to take in my
      misfortune fully justifies my confidence. I was quartermaster in the
      select gendarmerie, and formed part of a detachment which was ordered to
      Vincennes. I passed the night there under arms, and at daybreak was
      ordered down to the moat with six men. An execution was to take place. The
      prisoner was brought out, and I gave the word to fire. The man fell, and
      after the execution I learned that we had shot the Duc d'Enghien. Judge of
      my horror! . . . I knew the prisoner only by the name of the brigand of La
      Vendée! . . . I could no longer remain in the service—I obtained my
      discharge, and am about to retire to my family. Would that I had done so
      sooner!" The above has been related to me and other persons by Davoust's
      secretary, whom I shall not name.
    
When they were alone, he spoke to him with genuine interest that made it feel like he wasn't intruding. He asked if the reason for his distress was something that could be eased and offered to help in any way he could. "Sir," the stranger replied, "I really appreciate the sympathy you're showing me—I don't want anything. There's no possible comfort for me. My suffering will only end with my life. You'll see for yourself, as your concern for my misfortune certainly justifies my trust. I was the quartermaster in the elite gendarmerie and was part of a unit sent to Vincennes. I spent the night there on guard, and at dawn I was ordered to the moat with six men. An execution was about to happen. The prisoner was brought out, and I gave the command to fire. The man fell, and after the execution, I discovered we had shot the Duc d'Enghien. Imagine my horror! I only knew the prisoner by the nickname of the brigand of La Vendée! I could no longer serve—I requested my discharge and am planning to go back to my family. I wish I had done it sooner!" This account was shared with me and others by Davoust's secretary, whose name I will not mention.








 


 




















      CHAPTER XXIII.
    



      1804.
    
1804.


   General Ordener's mission—Arrest of the Duc d'Enghien—Horrible
   night-scene—-Harrel's account of the death of the Prince—Order for
   digging the grave—The foster-sister of the Duc d'Enghien—Reading
   the sentence—The lantern—General Savary—The faithful dog and the
   police—My visit to Malmaison—Josephine's grief—
   The Duc d'Enghien's portrait and lock of hair—Savary's emotion—
   M. de Chateaubriand's resignation—M. de Chateaubriand's connection
   with Bonaparte—Madame Bacciocchi and M. de Fontanes—Cardinal Fesch
   —Dedication of the second edition of the 'Genie du Christianisme'
   —M. de Chateaubriand's visit to the First Consul on the morning of
   the Duc d'Enghien's death—Consequences of the Duc d'Enghien's
   death—Change of opinion in the provinces—The Gentry of the
   Chateaus—Effect of the Duc d'Enghien's death on foreign Courts—
   Remarkable words of Mr. Pitt—Louis XVIII. sends back the insignia
   of the Golden Fleece to the King of Spain.

   General Ordener's mission—Arrest of the Duc d'Enghien—Terrible night scene—Harrel's account of the Prince's death—Order to dig the grave—The Duc d'Enghien's foster sister—Reading of the sentence—The lantern—General Savary—The loyal dog and the police—My visit to Malmaison—Josephine's sorrow—The Duc d'Enghien's portrait and lock of hair—Savary's feelings—M. de Chateaubriand's resignation—M. de Chateaubriand's relationship with Bonaparte—Madame Bacciocchi and M. de Fontanes—Cardinal Fesch—Dedication of the second edition of 'Genie du Christianisme'—M. de Chateaubriand's visit to the First Consul on the morning of the Duc d'Enghien's death—Consequences of the Duc d'Enghien's death—Shift in opinion in the provinces—The Gentry of the Chateaus—Impact of the Duc d'Enghien's death on foreign courts—Notable words from Mr. Pitt—Louis XVIII. returns the insignia of the Golden Fleece to the King of Spain.







      I will now narrate more fully the sanguinary scene which took place at
      Vincennes. General Ordener, commanding the mounted grenadiers of the
      Guard, received orders from the War Minister to proceed to the Rhine, to
      give instructions to the chiefs of the gendarmerie of New Brissac, which
      was placed at his disposal. General Ordener sent a detachment of
      gendarmerie to Ettenheim, where the Duc d'Enghien was arrested on the 15th
      of March. He was immediately conducted to the citadel of Strasburg, where
      he remained till the 18th, to give time for the arrival of orders from
      Paris. These orders were given rapidly, and executed promptly, for the
      carriage which conveyed the unfortunate Prince arrived at the barrier at
      eleven o'clock on the morning of the 20th, where it remained for five
      hours, and afterwards proceeded by the exterior boulevards on the road to
      Vincennes, where it arrived at night. Every scene of this horrible drama
      was acted under the veil of night: the sun did not even shine upon its
      tragical close. The soldiers received orders to proceed to Vincennes at
      night. It was at night that the fatal gates of the fortress were closed
      upon the Prince. At night the Council assembled and tried him, or rather
      condemned him without trial. When the clock struck six in the morning the
      orders were given to fire, and the Prince ceased to exist.
    
I will now describe in more detail the bloody scene that took place at Vincennes. General Ordener, in charge of the mounted grenadiers of the Guard, received orders from the War Minister to head to the Rhine to give instructions to the leaders of the gendarmerie of New Brissac, which was placed at his disposal. General Ordener sent a team of gendarmerie to Ettenheim, where the Duc d'Enghien was arrested on March 15th. He was immediately taken to the citadel of Strasburg, where he stayed until the 18th to allow time for orders to arrive from Paris. These orders were issued quickly and carried out promptly, as the carriage carrying the unfortunate Prince arrived at the barrier at eleven o'clock on the morning of the 20th, where it stayed for five hours before proceeding via the outer boulevards on the way to Vincennes, arriving there at night. Every part of this horrible drama unfolded in the darkness: not even the sun shone on its tragic conclusion. The soldiers were ordered to go to Vincennes at night. It was at night that the fatal gates of the fortress closed behind the Prince. At night, the Council met and tried him, or rather condemned him without a proper trial. When the clock struck six in the morning, the orders were given to fire, and the Prince's life came to an end.







      Here a reflection occurs to me. Supposing one were inclined to admit that
      the Council held on the 10th of March had some connection with the Duc
      d'Enghien's arrest, yet as no Council was held from the time of the Duke's
      arrival at the barrier to the moment of his execution, it could only be
      Bonaparte himself who issued the orders which were too punctually obeyed.
      When the dreadful intelligence of the Duc d'Enghien's death was spread in
      Paris it excited a feeling of consternation which recalled the
      recollection of the Reign of Terror. Could Bonaparte have seen the gloom
      which pervaded Paris, and compared it with the joy which prevailed on the
      day when he returned victorious from the field of Marengo, he would have
      felt that he had tarnished his glory by a stain which could never be
      effaced.
    
Here’s a thought that comes to mind. If one were to accept that the Council held on March 10 was somehow linked to the Duc d'Enghien's arrest, it’s worth noting that there was no Council meeting from the time the Duke arrived at the barrier until his execution. Therefore, it must have been Bonaparte himself who issued the orders that were followed so strictly. When the shocking news of the Duc d'Enghien's death spread through Paris, it created a wave of panic that reminded everyone of the Reign of Terror. If Bonaparte could have witnessed the despair that filled Paris and compared it to the celebration that took place when he returned victorious from Marengo, he would have realized he had tarnished his legacy with a mark that could never be removed.







      About half-past twelve on the 22d of March I was informed that some one
      wished to speak with me. It was Harrel.
    
About 12:30 on March 22nd, I was told that someone wanted to talk to me. It was Harrel.






 —[Harrel, who had been unemployed till the plot of Arena and
   Ceracchi on the 18th Vendemiairean IX (10th October 1800) which he
   had feigned to join, and had then revealed to the police (see ante),
   had been made Governor of Vincennes.]— 
—[Harrel, who had been out of work until the plan by Arena and Ceracchi on the 18th Vendemiairean IX (October 10, 1800) that he pretended to be part of, and then snitched to the police (see prior), had been appointed Governor of Vincennes.]—







      I will relate word for word what he communicated to me. Harrel probably
      thought that he was bound in gratitude to acquaint me with these details;
      but he owed me no gratitude, for it was much against my will that he had
      encouraged the conspiracy of Ceracchi, and received the reward of his
      treachery in that crime. The following is Harrel's statement:—
    
I will share exactly what he told me. Harrel probably felt obligated to fill me in on these details; however, he didn't owe me any thanks because it was against my wishes that he supported Ceracchi's conspiracy and reaped the consequences of his betrayal in that crime. Here’s Harrel's statement:—







      "On the evening of the day before yesterday, when the Prince arrived, I
      was asked whether I had a room to lodge a prisoner in; I replied, No—that
      there were only my apartments and the Council-chamber. I was told to
      prepare instantly a room in which a prisoner could sleep who was to arrive
      that evening. I was also desired to dig a pit in the courtyard.
    
"On the evening of the day before yesterday, when the Prince arrived, I was asked if I had a room to hold a prisoner; I replied no—that I only had my living quarters and the Council chamber. I was then instructed to quickly prepare a room for a prisoner who was expected to arrive that evening. I was also asked to dig a pit in the courtyard."






 —[This fact must be noted. Harrel is told to dig a trench before
   the sentence. Thus it was known that they had come to kill the Duc
   d'Enghien. How can this be answered? Can it possibly be supposed
   that anyone, whoever it was, would have dared to give each an order
   in anticipation if the order had not been the carrying out of a
   formal command of Bonaparte? That is incredible.—Bourrienne.]— 
—[This fact must be noted. Harrel is told to dig a trench before the execution. Thus, it was clear that they had come to kill the Duc d'Enghien. How can this be explained? Can anyone really believe that someone would have dared to give each person an order in advance if it hadn’t been a formal command from Bonaparte? That’s unbelievable.—Bourrienne.]—







      "I replied that that could not be easily done, as the courtyard was paved.
      The moat was then fixed upon, and there the pit was dug. The Prince
      arrived at seven o'clock in the evening; he was perishing with cold and
      hunger. He did not appear dispirited. He said he wanted something to eat,
      and to go to bed afterwards. His apartment not being yet sufficiently
      aired, I took him into my own, and sent into the village for some
      refreshment. The Prince sat down to table, and invited me to eat with him.
      He then asked me a number of questions respecting Vincennes—what was
      going on there, and other particulars. He told me that he had been brought
      up in the neighbourhood of the castle, and spoke to me with great freedom
      and kindness. 'What do they want with me?' he said. 'What do they mean to
      do with me?' But these questions betrayed no uneasiness or anxiety. My
      wife, who was ill, was lying in the same room in an alcove, closed by a
      railing. She heard, without being perceived, all our conversation, and she
      was exceedingly agitated, for she recognised the Prince, whose
      foster-sister she was, and whose family had given her a pension before the
      Revolution.
    
"I said that wouldn’t be easy because the courtyard was paved.  
      So, we decided on the moat, and that's where we dug the pit. The Prince arrived at seven in the evening; he was freezing and starving. He didn’t seem downcast. He said he wanted something to eat and then to go to bed. Since his room wasn't aired out enough yet, I brought him into mine and sent someone to the village for some food. The Prince sat down to eat and invited me to join him. He then asked me a bunch of questions about Vincennes—what was happening there, and other details. He told me he grew up near the castle and spoke to me with great openness and kindness. 'What do they want with me?' he asked. 'What do they plan to do with me?' But there was no sign of worry or anxiety in his questions. My wife, who was unwell, was lying in a corner of the same room behind a railing. She listened without being noticed to our whole conversation, and she was extremely distressed because she recognized the Prince, who was her foster brother, and whose family had given her a pension before the Revolution."







      "The Prince hastened to bed, but before he could have fallen asleep the
      judges sent to request his presence in the Council-chamber. I was not
      present at his examination; but when it was concluded he returned to his
      chamber, and when they came to read his sentence to him he was in a
      profound sleep. In a few moments after he was led out for execution. He
      had so little suspicion of the fate that awaited him that on descending
      the staircase leading to the moat he asked where they were taking him. He
      received no answer. I went before the Prince with a lantern. Feeling the
      cold air which came up the staircase he pressed my arm and said, 'Are they
      going to put me into a dungeon?'"
    
"The Prince rushed to bed, but before he could fall asleep, the judges sent for him to join them in the Council chamber. I wasn't there for his questioning, but when it ended, he returned to his room, and when they came to read his sentence, he was sound asleep. Moments later, he was taken out for execution. He was so unaware of what was about to happen that as he went down the staircase leading to the moat, he asked where they were taking him. He got no response. I walked in front of the Prince with a lantern. Feeling the cold air from the staircase, he grabbed my arm and asked, 'Are they going to put me in a dungeon?'"







      The rest is known. I can yet see Harrel shuddering while thinking of this
      action of the Prince's.
    
The rest is known. I can still see Harrel shuddering at the thought of the Prince's actions.







      Much has been said about a lantern which it is pretended was attached to
      one of the Duc d'Enghien's button-holes. This is a pure invention. Captain
      Dautancourt, whose sight was not very good, took the lantern out of
      Harrel's hand to read the sentence to the victim, who had been condemned
      with as little regard to judicial forms as to justice. This circumstance
      probably gave rise to the story about the lantern to which I have just
      alluded. The fatal event took place at six o'clock on the morning of the
      21st of March, and it was then daylight.
    
A lot has been said about a lantern that supposedly was attached to one of the Duc d'Enghien's buttonholes. This is completely made up. Captain Dautancourt, who had poor eyesight, took the lantern from Harrel's hand to read the sentence to the victim, who had been condemned with little regard for judicial processes or justice. This situation probably started the story about the lantern that I just mentioned. The tragic event happened at six in the morning on March 21, and it was already daylight.







      General Savary did not dare to delay the execution of the sentence,
      although the Prince urgently demanded to have an interview with the First
      Consul. Had Bonaparte seen the prince there can be little doubt but that
      he would have saved his life. Savary, however, thought himself bound to
      sacrifice his own opinions to the powerful faction which then controlled
      the First Consul; and whilst he thought he was serving his master, he was
      in fact only serving the faction to which, I must say, he did not belong.
      The truth is, that General Savary can only be reproached for not having
      taken upon himself to suspend the execution, which very probably would not
      have taken place had it been suspended. He was merely an instrument, and
      regret on his part would, perhaps, have told more in his favour than his
      vain efforts to justify Bonaparte. I have just said that if there had been
      any suspension there would have been no execution; and I think this is
      almost proved by the uncertainty which must have existed in the mind of
      the First Consul. If he had made up his mind all the measures would have
      been taken in advance, and if they had been, the carriage of the Duke
      would certainly not have been kept for five hours at the barriers.
      Besides, it is certain that the first intention was to take the Prince to
      the prison of the Temple.
    
General Savary didn’t dare to postpone the execution of the sentence, even though the Prince urgently requested a meeting with the First Consul. If Bonaparte had seen the Prince, there’s little doubt he would have saved his life. However, Savary felt he had to sacrifice his own opinions to the influential group that was controlling the First Consul at the time; while he thought he was serving his master, he was actually just serving the faction, to which I must say he didn’t belong. The truth is, General Savary can only be criticized for not taking it upon himself to halt the execution, which likely wouldn’t have happened if it had been delayed. He was just an instrument, and his regret might have actually worked in his favor more than his empty efforts to justify Bonaparte. I’ve just mentioned that if there had been any delay, there wouldn’t have been an execution; and I believe this is almost proven by the uncertainty that must have existed in the First Consul’s mind. If he had made a definitive decision, all the necessary steps would have been taken in advance, and if they had been, the Duke’s carriage definitely wouldn’t have been waiting for five hours at the barriers. Additionally, it’s clear that the initial intention was to take the Prince to the Temple prison.







      From all that I have stated, and particularly from the non-suspension of
      the execution, it appears to me as clear as day that General Savary had
      received a formal order from Bonaparte for the Duc d'Enghien's death, and
      also a formal order that it should be so managed as to make it impossible
      to speak to Bonaparte again on the subject until all should be over. Can
      there be a more evident, a more direct proof of this than the digging of
      the grave beforehand? I have repeated Harrel's story just as he related it
      to me. He told it me without solicitation, and he could not invent a
      circumstance of this nature.
    
From everything I’ve said, especially regarding the execution not being put on hold, it seems crystal clear to me that General Savary got a direct order from Bonaparte to kill the Duc d'Enghien, along with instructions to handle it in a way that would prevent any further discussion with Bonaparte about it until it was all over. Is there any clearer or more direct evidence of this than having the grave already dug? I’ve recounted Harrel's story exactly as he told it to me. He shared it without me asking, and he couldn’t have made up such a detail.







      General Savary was not in the moat during the execution, but on the bank,
      from whence he could easily see all that passed. Another circumstance
      connected with the Duc d'Enghien's death has been mentioned, which is
      true. The Prince had a little dog; this faithful animal returned
      incessantly to the fatal spot in the moat. There are few who have not seen
      that spot. Who has not made a pilgrimage to Vincennes and dropped a tear
      where the victim fell? The fidelity of the poor dog excited so much
      interest that the police prevented any one from visiting the fatal spot,
      and the dog was no longer heard to howl over his master's grave.
    
General Savary wasn't in the moat during the execution, but on the bank where he could easily see everything happening. Another detail related to the Duc d'Enghien's death has been noted, and it's true. The Prince had a little dog; this loyal animal kept returning repeatedly to the tragic spot in the moat. There are few who haven't seen that place. Who hasn't made a trip to Vincennes and shed a tear where the victim fell? The loyalty of the poor dog drew so much attention that the police restricted access to the area, and the dog was no longer heard howling over his master's grave.







      I promised to state the truth respecting the death of the Duc d'Enghien,
      and I have done so, though it has cost me some pain. Harrel's narrative,
      and the shocking circumstance of the grave being dug beforehand, left me
      no opportunity of cherishing any doubts I might have wished to entertain;
      and everything which followed confirmed the view I then took of the
      subject. When Harrel left me on the 22d I determined to go to Malmaison to
      see Madame Bonaparte, knowing, from her sentiments towards the House of
      Bourbon, that she would be in the greatest affliction. I had previously
      sent to know whether it would be convenient for her to see me, a
      precaution I had never before observed, but which I conceived to be proper
      upon that occasion. On my arrival I was immediately introduced to her
      boudoir, where she was alone with Hortense and Madame de Rémusat. They
      were all deeply afflicted. "Bourrienne," exclaimed Josephine, as soon as
      she perceived me, "what a dreadful event! Did you but know the state of
      mind Bonaparte is in! He avoids, he dreads the presence of every one! Who
      could have suggested to him such an act as this?" I then acquainted
      Josephine with the particulars which I had received from Harrel. "What
      barbarity!" she resumed. "But no reproach can rest upon me, for I did
      everything to dissuade him from this dreadful project. He did not confide
      the secret to me, but I guessed it, and he acknowledged all. How harshly
      he repelled my entreaties! I clung to him! I threw myself at his feet!
      'Meddle with what concerns you!' he exclaimed angrily. 'This is not
      women's business! Leave me!' And he repulsed me with a violence which he
      had never displayed since our first interview after your return from
      Egypt. Heavens! what will become of us?"
    
I promised to tell the truth about the death of the Duc d'Enghien, and I have, even though it was painful for me. Harrel's account and the shocking fact that the grave was dug beforehand left me no room to doubt what I might have wanted to believe. Everything that happened afterward confirmed my initial thoughts on the matter. When Harrel left me on the 22nd, I decided to go to Malmaison to see Madame Bonaparte, knowing that her feelings towards the House of Bourbon would mean she was in deep distress. I had previously checked to see if it would be convenient for her to meet with me—a precaution I had never taken before but thought was appropriate this time. Upon my arrival, I was quickly shown to her boudoir, where she was alone with Hortense and Madame de Rémusat. They were all grieving deeply. "Bourrienne," Josephine exclaimed as soon as she saw me, "what a terrible event! If you could only know how Bonaparte is feeling! He avoids everyone; he can't stand being around anyone! Who could have suggested he do something like this?" I then updated Josephine on the details I had learned from Harrel. "What cruelty!" she replied. "But no blame can fall on me because I did everything I could to talk him out of this horrific plan. He didn’t confide in me, but I figured it out, and he admitted it. He rejected my pleas so harshly! I clung to him! I fell at his feet! 'Stay out of what doesn’t concern you!' he shouted angrily. 'This is not women's business! Leave me!' And he pushed me away with a force he hadn’t shown since our first meeting after your return from Egypt. Goodness! What will happen to us?"







      I could say nothing to calm affliction and alarm in which I participated,
      for to my grief for the death of the Duc d'Enghien was added my regret
      that Bonaparte should be capable of such a crime. "What," said Josephine,
      "can be thought of this in Paris? He must be the object of universal,
      imprecation, for even here his flatterers appear astounded when they are
      out of his presence. How wretched we have been since yesterday; and
      he!.... You know what he is when he is dissatisfied with himself. No one
      dare speak to him, and all is mournful around us. What a commission he
      gave to Savary! You know I do not like the general, because he is one of
      those whose flatteries will contribute to ruin Bonaparte. Well! I pitied
      Savary when he came yesterday to fulfil a commission which the Duc
      d'Enghien had entrusted to him. Here," added Josephine, "is his portrait
      and a lock of his hair, which he has requested me to transmit to one who
      was dear to him. Savary almost shed tears when he described to me the last
      moments of the Duke; then, endeavouring to resume his self-possession, he
      said: 'It is in vain to try to be indifferent, Madame! It is impossible to
      witness the death of such a man unmoved!'"
    
I couldn’t say anything to ease the grief and fear I felt because, along with my sorrow for the death of the Duc d'Enghien, I was also upset that Bonaparte could commit such a crime. "What," Josephine said, "will people in Paris think of this? He must be facing universal condemnation, because even here his flatterers seem shocked when he’s not around. We've been so miserable since yesterday; and he!... You know how he is when he's unhappy with himself. No one dares to talk to him, and everything around us feels gloomy. What a task he gave to Savary! You know I don’t like the general, because he’s one of those whose flattery will only lead to Bonaparte’s downfall. Well! I felt sorry for Savary when he came yesterday to carry out a task the Duc d'Enghien had given him. Here," Josephine continued, "is his portrait and a lock of his hair that he asked me to send to someone he cared about. Savary almost cried when he told me about the Duke’s final moments; then, trying to regain his composure, he said: 'It’s pointless to pretend to be indifferent, Madame! It's impossible to witness the death of such a man without being moved!'"







      Josephine afterwards informed me of the only act of courage which occurred
      at this period—namely, the resignation which M. de Chateaubriand had
      sent to Bonaparte. She admired his conduct greatly, and said: "What a pity
      he is not surrounded by men of this description! It would be the means of
      preventing all the errors into which he is led by the constant approbation
      of those about him." Josephine thanked me for my attention in coming to
      see her at such an unhappy juncture; and I confess that it required all
      the regard I cherished for her to induce me to do so, for at that moment I
      should not have wished to see the First Consul, since the evil was
      irreparable. On the evening of that day nothing was spoken of but the
      transaction of the 21st of March, and the noble conduct of M. de
      Chateaubriand. As the name of that celebrated man is for ever written in
      characters of honour in the history of that period, I think I may with
      propriety relate here what I know respecting his previous connection with
      Bonaparte.
    
Josephine later told me about the only brave act that happened during this time—specifically, the resignation that M. de Chateaubriand had sent to Bonaparte. She really admired his actions and said, "It's such a shame he isn't surrounded by people like that! It could help prevent all the mistakes he's making due to the constant approval of those around him." Josephine thanked me for visiting her during such a tough time; I admit it took all of my affection for her to go, because at that moment, I really wouldn’t have wanted to see the First Consul, since the situation was beyond repair. That evening, everyone talked only about the events of March 21st and the honorable conduct of M. de Chateaubriand. Since that famous man's name is forever etched in honor in the history of that time, I think it’s appropriate to share what I know about his previous relationship with Bonaparte.







      I do not recollect the precise date of M. de Chateaubriand's return to
      France; I only know that it was about the year 1800, for we were, I think,
      still at the Luxembourg: However, I recollect perfectly that Bonaparte
      began to conceive prejudices against him; and when I one day expressed my
      surprise to the First Consul that M. de Chateaubriand's name did not
      appear on any of the lists which he had ordered to be presented to him for
      filling up vacant places, he said: "He has been mentioned to me, but I
      replied in a way to check all hopes of his obtaining any appointment. He
      has notions of liberty and independence which will not suit my system. I
      would rather have him my enemy than my forced friend. At all events, he
      must wait awhile; I may, perhaps, try him first in a secondary place, and,
      if he does well, I may advance him."
    
I don’t remember the exact date when M. de Chateaubriand returned to France; I just know it was around the year 1800 because, if I recall correctly, we were still at the Luxembourg. However, I clearly remember that Bonaparte started to develop biases against him. One day, when I expressed my surprise to the First Consul that M. de Chateaubriand’s name wasn’t included in any of the lists he had asked to review for filling vacant positions, he said: “He has been brought up to me, but I responded in a way that squashed any hopes of him getting an appointment. He has ideas about liberty and independence that don’t fit with my approach. I would rather have him as my enemy than have him be a friend against his will. In any case, he will need to wait for a bit; I might consider giving him a secondary position first, and if he performs well, I might promote him.”







      The above is, word for word, what Bonaparte said the first time I
      conversed with him about M. de Chateaubriand. The publication of 'Atala'
      and the 'Genie du Christianisme' suddenly gave Chateaubriand celebrity,
      and attracted the attention of the First Consul. Bonaparte who then
      meditated the restoration of religious worship: in France, found himself
      wonderfully supported by the publication of a book which excited the
      highest interest, and whose superior merit led the public mind to the
      consideration of religious topics. I remember Madame Bacciocchi coming one
      day to visit her brother with a little volume in her hand; it was 'Atala'.
      She presented it to the First Consul, and begged he would read it. "What,
      more romances!" exclaimed he. "Do you think I have time to read all your
      fooleries?" He, however, took the book from his sister and laid it down on
      my desk. Madame Bacciocchi then solicited the erasure of M. de
      Chateaubriand's name from the list of emigrants. "Oh! oh!" said Bonaparte,
      "it is Chateaubriand's book, is it? I will read it, then. Bourrienne,
      write to Fouché to erase his name from the list."
    
The above is, word for word, what Bonaparte said the first time I talked to him about M. de Chateaubriand. The release of 'Atala' and 'Genie du Christianisme' quickly brought Chateaubriand fame and caught the attention of the First Consul. Bonaparte, who was then thinking about restoring religious worship in France, found himself greatly supported by the publication of a book that sparked a lot of interest, and whose impressive quality led people to think about religious topics. I remember Madame Bacciocchi visiting her brother one day with a small book in her hand; it was 'Atala.' She gave it to the First Consul and asked him to read it. "What, more romances!" he exclaimed. "Do you think I have time to read all your nonsense?" However, he took the book from his sister and placed it on my desk. Madame Bacciocchi then asked for M. de Chateaubriand's name to be removed from the list of emigrants. "Oh! oh!" said Bonaparte, "it's Chateaubriand's book, is it? I’ll read it then. Bourrienne, write to Fouché to remove his name from the list."







      Bonaparte, at that time paid so little attention to what was doing in the
      literary world that he was not aware of Chateaubriand being the author of
      'Atala'. It was on the recommendation of M. de Fontanel that Madame
      Bacciocchi tried this experiment, which was attended by complete success.
      The First Consul read 'Atala', and was much pleased with it. On the
      publication of the 'Genie du Christianisme' some time after, his first
      prejudices were wholly removed. Among the persons about him there were
      many who dreaded to see a man of de Chateaubriand's talent approach the
      First Consul, who knew how to appreciate superior merit when it did not
      exite his envy.
    
Bonaparte was so disconnected from the literary scene at that time that he didn’t even know Chateaubriand wrote ‘Atala.’ It was at the suggestion of M. de Fontanel that Madame Bacciocchi decided to give it a try, and it turned out to be a complete success. The First Consul read ‘Atala’ and really enjoyed it. Later, when ‘Génie du Christianisme’ was published, any lingering prejudices he had were completely gone. Many people around him were worried about a talent like Chateaubriand’s getting too close to the First Consul, who could recognize exceptional talent as long as it didn’t make him envious.







      Our relations with the Court of the Vatican being renewed, and Cardinal
      Fesch appointed Ambassador to the Holy See, Bonaparte conceived the idea
      of making M. de Chateaubriand first secretary to the Embassy, thinking
      that the author of the 'Genie du Christianisme' was peculiarly fitted to
      make up for his uncle's deficiency of talent in the capital of the
      Christian world, which was destined to become the second city of the
      Empire.
    
Our relationship with the Vatican has been restored, and Cardinal Fesch has been appointed Ambassador to the Holy See. Bonaparte came up with the idea of making M. de Chateaubriand the first secretary of the Embassy, believing that the author of 'Genie du Christianisme' was particularly suited to compensate for his uncle's lack of talent in the heart of the Christian world, which was set to become the second city of the Empire.







      It was not a little extraordinary to let a man, previously, a stranger to
      diplomatic business; stepping over all the intermediate degrees; and being
      at once invested with the functions of first secretary to an important
      Embassy. I oftener than once heard the First Consul congratulate himself
      on having made the appointment. I knew, though Bonaparte was not aware of
      the circumstance at the time, that Chateaubriand at first refused the
      situation, and that he was only induced to accept it by the entreaties of
      the head of the clergy, particularly of the Abby Emery, a man of great
      influence. They represented to the author of the 'Genie du Christianisme'
      that it was necessary he should accompany the uncle of the First Consul to
      Rome; and M. de Chateaubriand accordingly resolved to do so.
    
It was quite unusual to allow a man who was previously a stranger to diplomatic affairs to skip all the intermediate steps and immediately take on the role of first secretary at an important Embassy. I heard more than once the First Consul patting himself on the back for making that choice. I knew, although Bonaparte wasn’t aware of it at the time, that Chateaubriand initially turned down the position and only agreed to it after being persuaded by the head of the clergy, especially Abby Emery, who was a very influential figure. They told the author of 'Genie du Christianisme' that he needed to accompany the First Consul's uncle to Rome; and M. de Chateaubriand ultimately decided to do so.







      However, clouds, gathered; I do not know from what cause, between the
      ambassador and his secretary. All I know is, that on Bonaparte being
      informed of the circumstance he took the part of the Cardinal, and the
      friends of M. de Chateaubriand expected to see him soon deprived of his
      appointment, when, to the great astonishment of every one, the secretary
      to the Roman Embassy, far from being disgraced, was raised by the First
      Consul to the rank of Minister Plenipotentiary to the Valais, with leave
      to travel in Switzerland and Italy, together with the promise of the first
      vacant Embassy.
    
However, clouds gathered; I don't know why, but there was tension between the ambassador and his secretary. All I know is that when Bonaparte found out about the situation, he supported the Cardinal, and M. de Chateaubriand's friends expected he would soon lose his position. To everyone's surprise, the secretary of the Roman Embassy, instead of being punished, was promoted by the First Consul to Minister Plenipotentiary to the Valais, with permission to travel in Switzerland and Italy, along with a promise of the first vacant embassy.







      This favour excited a considerable sensation at the Tuileries; but as it
      was known to be the will and pleasure of the First Consul all expression
      of opinion on the subject was confined to a few quiet murmurs that
      Bonaparte had done for the name of Chateaubriand what, in fact, he had
      done only on account of his talent. It was during the continuance of this
      favour that the second edition of the 'Genie du Christianisme' was
      dedicated to the First Consul.
    
This favor created quite a stir at the Tuileries; however, since everyone knew it was the First Consul’s decision, any expressions of opinion were limited to a few quiet whispers that Bonaparte had done for Chateaubriand what he had, in reality, only done because of his talent. It was while this favor was still in place that the second edition of the 'Genie du Christianisme' was dedicated to the First Consul.







      M. de Chateaubriand returned to France previously to entering on the
      fulfilment of his new mission. He remained for some months in Paris, and
      on the day appointed for his departure he went to take leave of the First
      Consul. By a singular chance it happened to be the fatal morning of the
      21st of March, and consequently only a few hours after the Duc d'Enghien
      had been shot. It is unnecessary to observe that M. de Chateaubriand was
      ignorant of the fatal event. However, on his return home he said to his
      friends that he had remarked a singular change in the appearance of the
      First Consul, and that there was a sort of sinister expression in his
      countenance. Bonaparte saw his new minister amidst the crowd who attended
      the audience, and several times seemed inclined to step forward to speak
      to him, but as often turned away, and did not approach him the whole
      morning. A few hours after, when M. de Chateaubriand mentioned his
      observations to some of his friends; he was made acquainted with the cause
      of that agitation which, in spite of all his strength of mind and
      self-command, Bonaparte could not disguise.
    
M. de Chateaubriand returned to France before starting his new mission. He spent several months in Paris, and on the day he was set to leave, he went to say goodbye to the First Consul. By a strange coincidence, it was the tragic morning of March 21st, just a few hours after the Duc d'Enghien was shot. M. de Chateaubriand was unaware of this tragic event. However, when he got home, he told his friends that he had noticed a peculiar change in the First Consul's appearance and that there was a sort of unsettling expression on his face. Bonaparte spotted his new minister among the crowd during the audience and seemed several times like he wanted to approach him to talk, but he kept turning away and didn’t go near him the entire morning. A few hours later, when M. de Chateaubriand shared his observations with some friends, he learned about the reason behind the agitation that, despite Bonaparte's mental strength and composure, he couldn’t hide.







      M. de Chateaubriand instantly resigned his appointment of Minister
      Plenipotentiary to the Valais. For several days his friends were much
      alarmed for his safety, and they called every morning early to ascertain
      whether he had not been carried off during the night. Their fears were not
      without foundation. I must confess that I, who knew Bonaparte well, was
      somewhat surprised that no serious consequence attended the anger he
      manifested on receiving the resignation of the man who had dedicated his
      work to him. In fact, there was good reason for apprehension, and it was
      not without considerable difficulty that Elisa succeeded in averting the
      threatened storm. From this time began a state of hostility between
      Bonaparte and Chateaubriand which only terminated at the Restoration.
    
M. de Chateaubriand immediately resigned from his position as Minister Plenipotentiary to the Valais. For several days, his friends were very worried about his safety, and they came by every morning to check if he had been taken away during the night. Their concerns were not unfounded. I must admit that I, who knew Bonaparte well, was somewhat surprised that there were no serious repercussions following his anger when he received the resignation from the man who had dedicated his work to him. In fact, there was good reason for concern, and it took significant effort from Elisa to diffuse the impending crisis. From that point on, a state of hostility began between Bonaparte and Chateaubriand that lasted until the Restoration.







      I am persuaded, from my knowledge of Bonaparte's character, that though he
      retained implacable resentment against a returned emigrant who had dared
      to censure his conduct in so positive a manner, yet, his first burst of
      anger being soothed, that which was the cause of hatred was at the same
      time the ground of esteem. Bonaparte's animosity was, I confess, very
      natural, for he could not disguise from himself the real meaning of a
      resignation made under such circumstances. It said plainly, "You have
      committed a crime, and I will not serve your Government, which is stained
      with the blood of a Bourbon!" I can therefore very well imagine that
      Bonaparte could never pardon the only man who dared to give him such a
      lesson in the midst of the plenitude of his power. But, as I have often
      had occasion to remark, there was no unison between Bonaparte's feelings
      and his judgment.
    
I believe, based on my understanding of Bonaparte's character, that although he held a deep resentment against an emigrant who had the audacity to publicly criticize him, once his initial anger faded, the source of his hatred also became a reason for respect. Bonaparte's anger was, I admit, quite understandable, as he couldn't ignore the true implication of a resignation under such circumstances. It clearly indicated, "You have committed a crime, and I refuse to serve your government, which is tainted with Bourbon blood!" So, I can easily see how Bonaparte could never forgive the one person who dared to teach him such a lesson while he was at the height of his power. However, as I've often noted, there was a disconnect between Bonaparte's emotions and his judgment.







      I find a fresh proof of this in the following passage, which he dictated
      to M. de Montholon at St. Helena (Memoires, tome iv. p 248). "If," said
      he, "the royal confidence had not been placed in men whose minds were
      unstrung by too important circumstances, or who, renegade to their
      country, saw no safety or glory for their master's throne except under the
      yoke of the Holy Alliance; if the Duc de Richelieu, whose ambition was to
      deliver his country from the presence of foreign bayonets; if
      Chateaubriand, who had just rendered valuable services at Ghent; if they
      had had the direction of affairs, France would have emerged from these two
      great national crises powerful and redoubtable. Chateaubriand had received
      from Nature the sacred fire-his works show it! His style is not that of
      Racine but of a prophet. Only he could have said with impunity in the
      chamber of peers, 'that the redingote and cocked hat of Napoleon, put on a
      stick on the coast of Brest, would make all Europe run to arms.'"
    
I find fresh evidence of this in the following passage, which he dictated to M. de Montholon at St. Helena (Memoires, tome iv. p 248). "If," he said, "the royal trust had not been placed in people whose minds were overwhelmed by too many significant circumstances, or who, having turned against their country, saw no safety or glory for their master's throne except under the control of the Holy Alliance; if the Duc de Richelieu, whose ambition was to free his country from foreign troops; if Chateaubriand, who had just provided valuable services at Ghent; if they had been in charge of affairs, France would have emerged from these two major national crises strong and formidable. Chateaubriand had the divine spark from Nature—his works demonstrate it! His style isn't that of Racine but that of a prophet. Only he could have boldly stated in the chamber of peers that 'the coat and cocked hat of Napoleon, placed on a stick on the coast of Brest, would make all of Europe rush to arms.'"







      The immediate consequences of the Duc d'Enghien's death were not confined
      to the general consternation which that unjustifiable stroke of state
      policy produced in the capital. The news spread rapidly through the
      provinces and foreign countries, and was everywhere accompanied by
      astonishment and sorrow. There is in the departments a separate class of
      society, possessing great influence, and constituted entirely of persons
      usually called the "Gentry of the Chateaux," who may be said to form the
      provincial Faubourg St. Germain, and who were overwhelmed by the news. The
      opinion of the Gentry of the Chateaux was not hitherto unfavourable to the
      First Consul, for the law of hostages which he repealed had been felt very
      severely by them. With the exception of some families accustomed to
      consider themselves, in relation to the whole world, what they were only
      within the circle of a couple of leagues; that is to say, illustrious
      personages, all the inhabitants of the provinces, though they might retain
      some attachment to the ancient order of things, had viewed with
      satisfaction the substitution of the Consular for the Directorial
      government, and entertained no personal dislike to the First Consul. Among
      the Chateaux, more than anywhere else, it had always been the custom to
      cherish Utopian ideas respecting the management of public affairs, and to
      criticise the acts of the Government. It is well known that at this time
      there was not in all France a single old mansion surmounted by its two
      weathercocks which had not a systems of policy peculiar to itself, and in
      which the question whether the First Consul would play the part of
      Cromwell or Monk was not frequently canvassed. In those innocent
      controversies the little news which the Paris papers were allowed to
      publish was freely discussed, and a confidential letter from Paris
      sometimes furnished food for the conversation of a whole week.
    
The immediate consequences of the Duc d'Enghien's death weren't just limited to the shock caused by that unjustifiable act of state policy in the capital. The news spread quickly through the provinces and other countries, evoking astonishment and sadness everywhere. In the regions, there's a distinct class of society, greatly influential and made up of people typically referred to as the "Gentry of the Chateaux," who can be seen as the provincial equivalent of the Faubourg St. Germain, and they were deeply affected by the news. Up until then, the Gentry of the Chateaux hadn't been particularly opposed to the First Consul, since the law of hostages he repealed had hit them hard. Except for some families that viewed themselves as important figures in the world, despite only being notable within a small radius, the residents of the provinces, while still attached to the old order, had generally welcomed the shift from the Directorial to the Consular government and harbored no personal animosity toward the First Consul. Among the Chateaux, more than anywhere else, it was always common to hold idealistic views about public affairs and to critique the government's actions. It's well known that at this time, there wasn't a single old mansion in all of France topped with its two weather vanes that didn't have its own unique political perspective, and discussions about whether the First Consul would take on the role of Cromwell or Monk occurred frequently. In those lighthearted debates, the limited news allowed from Paris was freely talked about, and a private letter from Paris could sometimes fuel conversations for an entire week.







      While I was with Bonaparte he often talked to me about the life in the
      Chateaux, which he considered as the happiest for men with sufficient
      income and exempt from ambition. He knew and could appreciate this sort of
      life, for he often told me the period of his life which he remembered.
      with the greatest pleasure was that which he had passed in a Chateau of
      the family of Boulat du Colombier near Valence. Bonaparte set great value
      on the opinion of the Chateaux, because while living in the country he had
      observed the moral influence which their inhabitants exercise over their
      neighbourhood. He had succeeded to a great degree in conciliating them,
      but the news of the death of the Duc d'Enghien alienated from him minds
      which were still wavering, and even those which had already declared in
      his favour. That act of tyranny dissolved the charm which had created hope
      from his government and awakened affections which had as yet only
      slumbered. Those to whom this event was almost indifferent also joined in
      condemning it; for there are certain aristocratic ideas which are always
      fashionable in a certain class of society. Thus for different causes this
      atrocity gave a retrograde direction to public opinion, which had
      previously been favourably disposed to Bonaparte throughout the whole of
      France.
    
While I was with Bonaparte, he often talked to me about life in the Chateaux, which he saw as the happiest existence for people with enough money and free from ambition. He understood and appreciated this lifestyle because he frequently mentioned that the happiest time in his life was when he stayed at the Chateau of the Boulat du Colombier family near Valence. Bonaparte valued the opinions of those in the Chateaux because while living in the countryside, he noticed the positive influence their residents had on the community. He managed to win many of them over, but the news of the Duc d'Enghien's death pushed away those who were still undecided, and even some who had already supported him. That act of tyranny shattered the hope that his government had inspired and revived feelings that had only been dormant until then. Even those who were mostly indifferent to this event condemned it; certain aristocratic ideals always hold sway in certain social circles. For various reasons, this atrocity shifted public opinion, which had previously been favorably inclined toward Bonaparte across France.







      The consequences were not less important, and might have been disastrous
      with respect to foreign Courts. I learned, through a channel which does
      not permit me to entertain any doubt of the correctness of my information,
      that as soon as the Emperor Alexander received the news it became clear
      that England might conceive a well-founded hope of forming a new coalition
      against France. Alexander openly expressed his indignation. I also learned
      with equal certainty that when Mr. Pitt was informed of the death of the
      French Prince he said, "Bonaparte has now done himself more mischief than
      we have done him since the last declaration of war."
    
The consequences were still significant and could have been disastrous for foreign courts. I found out, through a source I trust completely, that as soon as Emperor Alexander got the news, it was clear that England might have a legitimate hope of forming a new coalition against France. Alexander openly expressed his anger. I also found out with equal certainty that when Mr. Pitt learned about the death of the French prince, he said, "Bonaparte has now caused himself more trouble than we have since the last declaration of war."






 —[The remark made on this murder by the astute cold-blooded Fouché
   is well known. He said, "It was worse than a crime—it was a
   blunder!"—Editor of 1836 Edition.]— 
—[The comment on this murder by the sharp and heartless Fouché is widely recognized. He stated, "It was worse than a crime—it was a blunder!"—Editor of 1836 Edition.]—







      Pitt was not the man to feel much concern for the death of any one; but he
      understood and seized all the advantages afforded to him by this great
      error of policy committed by the most formidable enemy of England. In all
      the Treasury journals published in London Bonaparte was never spoken of
      under any other name than that of the "assassin of the Duc d'Enghien." The
      inert policy of the Cabinet of Vienna prevented the manifestation of its
      displeasure by remonstrances, or by any outward act. At Berlin, in
      consequence of the neighbourhood of the French troops in Hanover, the
      commiseration for the death of the Duc d'Enghien was also confined to the
      King's cabinet, and more particularly to the salons of the Queen of
      Prussia; but it is certain that that transaction almost everywhere changed
      the disposition of sovereigns towards the First Consul, and that if it did
      not cause, it at least hastened the success of the negotiations which
      England was secretly carrying on with Austria and Prussia. Every Prince of
      Germany was offended by the violation of the Grand Duke of Baden's
      territory, and the death of a Prince could not fail everywhere to irritate
      that kind of sympathy of blood and of race which had hitherto always
      influenced the crowned heads and sovereign families of Europe; for it was
      felt as an injury to all of them.
    
Pitt wasn't someone who cared much about the death of anyone, but he recognized and took advantage of the significant mistake made by England's most powerful enemy. In all the Treasury journals published in London, Bonaparte was only referred to as the "assassin of the Duc d'Enghien." The passive approach of the Vienna Cabinet prevented any expression of discontent, either through protests or actions. In Berlin, because of the nearby French troops in Hanover, the sympathy for the Duc d'Enghien’s death was kept limited to the King’s cabinet and especially to the salons of the Queen of Prussia. However, it’s clear that this event shifted the attitudes of monarchs toward the First Consul almost everywhere, and while it didn’t directly cause, it certainly sped up the success of the secret negotiations England was pursuing with Austria and Prussia. Every German prince was offended by the violation of the Grand Duke of Baden's territory, and the death of a prince inevitably stirred up that sense of blood and kinship that had always influenced the crowned heads and royal families of Europe; it was felt as a blow to all of them.







      When Louis XVIII. learned the death of the Duc d'Enghien he wrote to the
      King of Spain, returning him the insignia of the Order of the Golden
      Fleece (which had also been conferred on Bonaparte), with the accompanying
      letter:
    
When Louis XVIII learned about the death of the Duc d'Enghien, he wrote to the King of Spain, returning the insignia of the Order of the Golden Fleece (which had also been given to Bonaparte) along with a letter:






   SIRE, MONSIEUR, AND DEAR COUSIN—It is with regret that I send back
   to you the insignia of the Order of the Golden Fleece which his
   Majesty, your father, of glorious memory conferred upon me. There
   can be nothing in common between me and the great criminal whom
   audacity and fortune have placed on my throne, since he has had the
   barbarity to stain himself with the blood of a Bourbon, the Duc
   d'Enghien.

   Religion might make me pardon an assassin, but the tyrant of my
   people must always be my enemy.

   In the present age it is more glorious to merit a sceptre than to
   possess one.

   Providence, for incomprehensible reasons, may condemn me to end my
   days in exile, but neither my contemporaries nor posterity shall
   ever have to say, that in the period of adversity I showed my self
   unworthy of occupying the throne of my ancestors.
                              LOUIS

   SIR, MONSIEUR, AND DEAR COUSIN—With a heavy heart, I return to you the insignia of the Order of the Golden Fleece that his Majesty, your father, may he rest in peace, awarded me. There can be nothing in common between me and the great criminal who, through audacity and luck, now sits on my throne, especially since he has had the cruelty to stain himself with the blood of a Bourbon, the Duc d'Enghien.

   My faith might allow me to forgive an assassin, but the tyrant of my people will always be my enemy.

   In today’s world, it’s more honorable to deserve a crown than to simply wear one.

   For reasons I cannot understand, fate may force me to spend my days in exile, but neither my peers nor future generations will ever say that, in times of hardship, I proved myself unworthy of the throne of my ancestors.
                              LOUIS







      The death of the Duc d'Enghien was a horrible episode in the proceedings
      of the great trial which was then preparing, and which was speedily
      followed by the accession of Bonaparte to the Imperial dignity. It was not
      one of the least remarkable anomalies of the epoch to see the judgment by
      which criminal enterprises against the Republic were condemned pronounced
      in the name of the Emperor who had so evidently destroyed that Republic.
      This anomaly certainly was not removed by the subtlety, by the aid of
      which he at first declared himself Emperor of the Republic, as a
      preliminary to his proclaiming himself Emperor of the French. Setting
      aside the means, it must be acknowledged that it is impossible not to
      admire the genius of Bonaparte, his tenacity in advancing towards his
      object, and that adroit employment of suppleness and audacity which made
      him sometimes dare fortune, sometimes avoid difficulties which he found
      insurmountable, to arrive, not merely at the throne of Louis XVI., but at
      the reconstructed throne of Charlemagne.
    
The death of the Duc d'Enghien was a terrible event in the process of the major trial that was being prepared, and it was soon followed by Bonaparte's rise to power as Emperor. It was one of the strange contradictions of the time to see the sentence against criminal acts against the Republic delivered in the name of the Emperor who had clearly destroyed that Republic. This contradiction wasn’t resolved by the clever way he initially declared himself Emperor of the Republic as a stepping stone to naming himself Emperor of the French. Putting the methods aside, it's important to recognize the brilliance of Bonaparte, his determination to achieve his goals, and his skillful use of flexibility and boldness, which allowed him to sometimes take risks and sometimes avoid challenges that seemed impossible, ultimately leading him not just to the throne of Louis XVI, but to the restored throne of Charlemagne.








 


 




















      CHAPTER XXIV.
    



      1804.
    
1804.


   Pichegru betrayed—His arrest—His conduct to his old aide de camp—
   Account of Pichegru's family, and his education at Brienne—
   Permission to visit M. Carbonnet—The prisoners in the Temple—
   Absurd application of the word "brigand"—Moreau and the state of
   public opinion respecting him—Pichegru's firmness—Pichegru
   strangled in prison—Public opinion at the time—Report on the death
   of Pichegru.

   Pichegru betrayed—His arrest—His behavior towards his former aide de camp—   
   Overview of Pichegru's family and his education at Brienne—   
   Permission to visit Mr. Carbonnet—The prisoners in the Temple—   
   Ridiculous use of the term "brigand"—Moreau and how the public viewed him—   
   Pichegru's resolve—Pichegru strangled in prison—   
   Public opinion at that time—Report on Pichegru's death.







      I shall now proceed to relate what I knew at the time and what I have
      since learnt of the different phases of the trial of Georges, Pichegru,
      Moreau and the other persons accused of conspiracy,—a trial to all
      the proceedings of which I closely attended. From those proceedings I was
      convinced that Moreau was no conspirator, but at the same time I must
      confess that it is very probable the First Consul might believe that he
      had been engaged in the plot, and I am also of opinion that the real
      conspirators believed Moreau to be their accomplice and their chief; for
      the object of the machinations of the police agents was to create a
      foundation for such a belief, it being important to the success of their
      scheme.
    
I will now share what I knew back then and what I’ve learned since about the different stages of the trial of Georges, Pichegru, Moreau, and the other people accused of conspiracy—a trial that I closely followed. From what I observed, I was convinced that Moreau was not part of the conspiracy, but I must admit that the First Consul likely thought he was involved in the plot. I also believe the actual conspirators viewed Moreau as their ally and leader; the police agents aimed to create a basis for this belief because it was crucial for their plan's success.







      It has been stated that Moreau was arrested on the day after the
      confessions made by Bouvet de Lozier; Pichegru was taken by means of the
      most infamous treachery that a man can be guilty of. The official police
      had at last ascertained that he was in Paris, but they could not learn the
      place of his concealment. The police agents had in vain exerted all their
      efforts to discover him, when an old friend, who had given him his last
      asylum, offered to deliver him up for 100,000 crowns. This infamous fellow
      gave an exact description of the chamber which Pichegru occupied in the
      Rue de Chabanais, and in consequence of his information Comminges,
      commissary of police, proceeded thither, accompanied by some determined
      men. Precautions were necessary, because it was known that Pichegru was a
      man of prodigious bodily strength, and that besides, as he possessed the
      means of defence, he would not allow himself to be taken without making a
      desperate resistance. The police entered his chamber by using false keys,
      which the man who had sold him had the baseness to get made for them. A
      light was burning on his night table. The party of police, directed by
      Comminges, overturned the table, extinguished the light, and threw
      themselves on the general, who struggled with all his strength, and cried
      out loudly. They were obliged to bind him, and in this state the conqueror
      of Holland was removed to the Temple, out of which he was destined never
      to come alive.
    
It has been reported that Moreau was arrested the day after Bouvet de Lozier's confessions; Pichegru was captured through the most despicable betrayal possible. The police finally discovered he was in Paris, but they couldn’t find where he was hiding. The police had tried everything to locate him without success, when an old friend, who had given him his last refuge, offered to hand him over for 100,000 crowns. This treacherous person provided a detailed description of the room where Pichegru stayed on Rue de Chabanais, and based on his tip, Comminges, the police commissioner, went there with a team of determined officers. Precautions were necessary because it was known that Pichegru was extremely strong and, since he had means to defend himself, he wouldn't be taken easily. The police entered his room using fake keys that the man who sold him out had the audacity to provide. A light was on his nightstand. Led by Comminges, the police overturned the table, put out the light, and rushed at the general, who fought back with all his strength and yelled loudly. They had to bind him, and in that state, the conqueror of Holland was taken to the Temple, from which he was never meant to come out alive.







      It must be owned that Pichegru was far from exciting the same interest as
      Moreau. The public, and more especially the army, never pardoned him for
      his negotiations with the Prince de Condé prior to the 18th Fructidor.
      However, I became acquainted with a trait respecting him while he was in
      Paris which I think does him much honour. A son of M. Lagrenee, formerly
      director of the French Academy at Rome, had been one of Pichegru's aides
      de camp. This young man, though he had obtained the rank of captain,
      resigned on the banishment of his general, and resumed the pencil, which
      he had lad aside for the sword. Pichegru, while he was concealed in Paris;
      visited his former aide de camp, who insisted upon giving him an asylum;
      but Pichegru positively refused to accept M. Lagrenee's offer, being
      determined not to commit a man who had already given him so strong a proof
      of friendship. I learned this fact by a singular coincidence. At this
      period Madame de Bourrienne wished to have a portrait of one of our
      children; she was recommended to M. Lagrenee, and he related the
      circumstance to her.
    
It must be said that Pichegru didn't capture the same level of interest as Moreau. The public, especially the army, never forgave him for his dealings with the Prince de Condé before the 18th Fructidor. However, I learned an admirable detail about him while he was in Paris. The son of M. Lagrenee, who was previously the director of the French Academy in Rome, had been one of Pichegru's aides-de-camp. This young man, despite having achieved the rank of captain, resigned when his general was banished and returned to art, which he had set aside for a military career. While Pichegru was hiding in Paris, he visited his former aide-de-camp, who insisted on providing him refuge; however, Pichegru firmly refused M. Lagrenee's offer, determined not to put a man who had already shown him such loyalty in jeopardy. I found out about this by a surprising coincidence. At that time, Madame de Bourrienne wanted a portrait of one of our children, and she was referred to M. Lagrenee, who shared this story with her.







      It was on the night of the 22d of February that Pichegru was arrested in
      the manner I have described. The deceitful friend who gave him up was
      named Le Blanc, and he went to settle at Hamburg with the reward of his
      treachery, I had entirely lost sight of Pichegru since we left Brienne,
      for Pichegru was also a pupil of that establishment; but, being older than
      either Bonaparte or I, he was already a tutor when we were only scholars,
      and I very well recollect that it was he who examined Bonaparte in the
      four first rules of arithmetic.
    
It was on the night of February 22nd that Pichegru was arrested in the way I described. The deceitful friend who turned him in was named Le Blanc, and he went to settle in Hamburg with the reward for his betrayal. I had completely lost track of Pichegru since we left Brienne, as he was also a student there; however, being older than both Bonaparte and me, he was already a tutor when we were just students. I clearly remember that he was the one who tested Bonaparte on the first four rules of arithmetic.







      Pichegru belonged to an agricultural family of Franche-Comte. He had a
      relation, a minim,' in that country. The minim, who had the charge of
      educating the pupils of the Military School of Brienne, being very poor,
      and their poverty not enabling them to hold out much inducement to other
      persons to assist them, they applied to the minims of Franche-Comte. In
      consequence of this application Pichegru's relation, and some other
      minims, repaired to Brienne. An aunt of Pichegru, who was a sister of the
      order of charity, accompanied them, and the care of the infirmary was
      entrusted to her. This good woman took her nephew to Brienne with her, and
      he was educated at the school gratuitously. As soon as his age permitted,
      Pichegru was made a tutor; but all, his ambition was to become a minim. He
      was, however, dissuaded from that pursuit by his relation, and he adopted
      the military profession. There is this further remarkable circumstance in
      the youth of Pichegru, that, though he was older by several years than
      Bonaparte, they were both made lieutenants of artillery at the same time.
      What a difference in their destiny! While the one was preparing to ascend
      a throne the other was a solitary prisoner in the dungeon of the Temple.
    
Pichegru came from a farming family in Franche-Comté. He had a relative, a member of the Minim order, in that region. The Minim, who was responsible for educating the students at the Military School of Brienne, was quite poor, and their financial struggles didn't attract much help from others, so they reached out to the Minims in Franche-Comté. As a result of this request, Pichegru's relative and some other Minims went to Brienne. An aunt of Pichegru, who was a sister of the charitable order, joined them, and she was put in charge of the infirmary. This kind woman took her nephew to Brienne with her, and he was educated at the school for free. As soon as he was old enough, Pichegru became a tutor, but his true ambition was to become a Minim. However, his relative discouraged him from that path, and he chose to pursue a military career instead. There's another notable fact about Pichegru's youth: even though he was several years older than Bonaparte, they were both made lieutenants of artillery at the same time. What a contrast in their fates! While one was preparing to ascend to a throne, the other was a lonely prisoner in the Temple dungeon.







      I had no motive to induce me to visit either the Temple or La Force, but I
      received at the time circumstantial details of what was passing in those
      prisons, particularly in the former; I went, however, frequently to St.
      Pelagie, where M. Carbonnet was confined. As soon as I knew that he was
      lodged in that prison I set about getting an admission from Real, who
      smoothed all difficulties. M. Carbonnet was detained two months in
      solitary confinement. He was several times examined, but the
      interrogatories produced no result, and, notwithstanding the desire to
      implicate him in consequence of the known intimacy between him and Moreau,
      it was at last found impossible to put him on trial with the other parties
      accused.
    
I had no reason to visit either the Temple or La Force, but I was getting detailed information about what was happening in those prisons, especially the former. However, I often went to St. Pelagie, where M. Carbonnet was being held. As soon as I learned that he was in that prison, I worked on getting permission from Real, who helped clear away any obstacles. M. Carbonnet spent two months in solitary confinement. He was examined multiple times, but the questioning yielded no results, and despite the desire to link him to the case due to his known connection with Moreau, they ultimately found it impossible to try him alongside the other accused individuals.







      The Temple had more terrors than St. Pelagie, but not for the prisoners
      who were committed to it, for none of those illustrious victims of police
      machination displayed any weakness, with the exception of Bouvet de
      Lozier, who, being sensible of his weakness, wished to prevent its
      consequences by death. The public, however, kept their attention riveted
      on the prison in which Moreau was confined. I have already mentioned that
      Pichegru was conveyed thither on the night of the 22d of February; a
      fortnight later Georges was arrested, and committed to the same prison.
    
The Temple was scarier than St. Pelagie, but not for the inmates there, as none of those notable victims of police schemes showed any weakness, except for Bouvet de Lozier, who, aware of his own weakness, wanted to escape its consequences through death. The public, however, remained focused on the prison where Moreau was held. I’ve already noted that Pichegru was taken there on the night of February 22nd; two weeks later, Georges was arrested and sent to the same prison.







      Either Real or Desmarets, and sometimes both together, repaired to the
      Temple to examine the prisoners. In vain the police endeavoured to direct
      public odium against the prisoners by placarding lists of their names
      through the whole of Paris, even before they were arrested. In those lists
      they were styled "brigands," and at the head of "the brigands," the name
      of General Moreau shone conspicuously. An absurdity without a parallel.
      The effect produced was totally opposite to that calculated on; for, as no
      person could connect the idea of a brigand with that of a general who was
      the object of public esteem, it was naturally concluded that those whose
      names were placarded along with his were no more brigands than he.
    
Either Real or Desmarets, and sometimes both together, went to the Temple to check on the prisoners. The police tried in vain to shift public anger onto the prisoners by putting up lists of their names all over Paris, even before they were arrested. In those lists, they were called "bandits," and at the top of the "bandits" list was General Moreau's name, shining prominently. It was an absurdity like no other. The result was completely opposite to what they intended; since no one could associate the idea of a bandit with a general who was well-respected by the public, it was naturally assumed that those whose names were listed with his were no more bandits than he was.







      Public opinion was decidedly in favour of Moreau, and every one was
      indignant at seeing him described as a brigand. Far from believing him
      guilty, he was regarded as a victim fastened on because his reputation
      embarrassed Bonaparte; for Moreau had always been looked up to as capable
      of opposing the accomplishment of the First Consul's ambitious views. The
      whole crime of Moreau was his having numerous partisans among those who
      still clung to the phantom of the Republic, and that crime was
      unpardonable in the eyes of the First Consul, who for two years had ruled
      the destinies of France as sovereign master. What means were not employed
      to mislead the opinion of the public respecting Moreau? The police
      published pamphlets of all sorts, and the Comte de Montgaillard was
      brought from Lyons to draw up a libel implicating him with Pichegru and
      the exiled Princes. But nothing that was done produced the effect
      proposed.
    
Public opinion strongly favored Moreau, and everyone was outraged to see him labeled a brigand. Instead of believing he was guilty, people saw him as a victim, targeted because his reputation threatened Bonaparte; Moreau had always been respected as someone capable of opposing the First Consul's ambitious plans. Moreau's only "crime" was having many supporters among those who still clung to the idea of the Republic, which was unforgivable in the eyes of the First Consul, who had been ruling France for two years as its sovereign master. Various tactics were used to sway public opinion against Moreau. The police circulated all sorts of pamphlets, and the Comte de Montgaillard was brought in from Lyons to create a slanderous document linking him to Pichegru and the exiled Princes. But nothing that was done had the desired effect.







      The weak character of Moreau is known. In fact, he allowed himself to be
      circumvented by a few intriguers, who endeavoured to derive advantage from
      the influence of his name. But he was so decidedly opposed to the
      reestablishment of the ancient system that he replied to one of the agents
      who addressed' him, "I cannot put myself at the head of any movement for
      the Bourbons, and such an attempt would not succeed. If Pichegru act on
      another principle—and even in that case I have told him that the
      Consuls and the Governor of Paris must disappear—I believe that I
      have a party strong enough in the Senate to obtain possession of
      authority, and I will immediately make use of it to protect his friends;
      public opinion will then dictate what may be fit to be done, but I will
      promise nothing in writing." Admitting these words attributed to Moreau to
      be true, they prove that he was dissatisfied with the Consular Government,
      and that he wished a change; but there is a great difference between a
      conditional wish and a conspiracy.
    
Moreau's weak character is well known. He let himself be manipulated by a few schemers who tried to take advantage of his name. However, he was firmly against bringing back the old regime, responding to one of the agents who approached him, "I can't lead any movement for the Bourbons, and such an attempt wouldn't succeed. If Pichegru operates on a different principle—and even then, I've told him that the Consuls and the Governor of Paris need to go—I believe I have enough support in the Senate to gain control, and I would immediately use that power to protect his friends; public opinion will dictate what’s appropriate to do, but I won’t promise anything in writing." If we accept these words attributed to Moreau as true, they show that he was unhappy with the Consular Government and wanted change; however, there is a big difference between a conditional desire and a conspiracy.







      The commander of the principal guard of the Temple was General Savory, and
      he had reinforced that guard by his select gendarmerie. The prisoners did
      not dare to communicate one with another for fear of mutual injury, but
      all evinced a courage which created no little alarm as to the consequences
      of the trial. Neither offers nor threats produced any confessions in the
      course of the interrogatories. Pichegru, in particular, displayed an
      extraordinary firmness, and Real one day, on leaving the chamber where he
      had been examining him, said aloud in the presence of several persons,
      "What a man that Pichegru is!"
    
The commander of the main guard at the Temple was General Savory, who had strengthened that guard with his elite gendarmerie. The prisoners didn't dare communicate with each other for fear of causing harm, but all showed a level of courage that raised significant concerns about the outcome of the trial. Neither offers nor threats led to any confessions during the interrogations. Pichegru, in particular, showed remarkable steadiness, and Real once, as he was leaving the room where he had been questioning him, said out loud in front of several people, "What a man that Pichegru is!"







      Forty days elapsed after the arrest of General Pichegru when, on the
      morning of the 6th of April, he was found dead in the chamber he occupied
      in the Temple. Pichegru had undergone ten examinations; but he had made no
      confessions, and no person was committed by his replies.
    
Forty days passed after General Pichegru's arrest when, on the morning of April 6th, he was found dead in his room at the Temple. Pichegru had gone through ten interrogations, but he had not made any confessions, and no one was implicated by his answers.







      All his declarations, however, gave reason to believe that he would speak
      out, and that too in a lofty and energetic manner during the progress of
      the trial. "When I am before my judges," said he, "my language shall be
      conformable to truth and the interests of my country." What would that
      language have been? Without doubt there was no wish that it should be
      heard. Pichegru would have kept his promise, for he was distinguished for
      his firmness of character above everything, even above his qualities as a
      soldier; differing in this respect from Moreau, who allowed himself to be
      guided by his wife and mother-in-law, both of whom displayed ridiculous
      pretensions in their visits to Madame Bonaparte.
    
All his statements, however, suggested that he would speak up, and do so in a bold and passionate way during the trial. "When I'm in front of my judges," he said, "my words will be true and reflect the interests of my country." What would that truth have sounded like? Undoubtedly, there was no desire for it to be heard. Pichegru would have kept his word, as he was known for his strong character above all else, even more than his skills as a soldier; unlike Moreau, who let himself be influenced by his wife and mother-in-law, both of whom displayed absurd pretensions in their visits to Madame Bonaparte.







      The day on which Real spoke before several persons of Pichegru in the way
      I have related was the day of his last examination. I afterwards learned,
      from a source on which I can rely, that during his examination Pichegru,
      though careful to say nothing which could affect the other prisoners,
      showed no disposition to be tender of him who had sought and resolved his
      death, but evinced a firm resolution to unveil before the public the
      odious machinery of the plot into which the police had drawn him. He also
      declared that he and his companions had no longer any object but to
      consider of the means of leaving Paris, with the view of escaping from the
      snares laid for them when their arrest took place. He declared that they
      had all of them given up the idea of overturning the power of Bonaparte, a
      scheme into which they had been enticed by shameful intrigues. I am
      convinced the dread excited by his manifestation of a resolution to speak
      out with the most rigid candour hastened the death of Pichegru. M. Real,
      who is still living, knows better than any one else what were Pichegru's
      declarations, as he interrogated him. I know not whether that gentleman
      will think fit, either at the present or some future period, to raise the
      veil of mystery which hangs over these events, but of this I am sure, he
      will be unable to deny anything I advance. There is evidence almost
      amounting to demonstration that Pichegru was strangled in prison, and
      consequently all idea of suicide must be rejected as inadmissible. Have I
      positive and substantive proof of what I assert? I have not; but the
      concurrence of facts and the weight of probabilities do not leave me in
      possession of the doubts I should wish to entertain on that tragic event.
      Besides, there exists a certain popular instinct, which is rarely at
      fault, and it must be in the recollection of many, not only that the
      general opinion favoured the notion of Pichegru's assassination, but that
      the pains taken to give that opinion another direction, by the affected
      exhibition of the body, only served to strengthen it. He who spontaneously
      says, I have not committed such or such a crime, at least admits there is
      room for suspecting his guilt.
    
The day Real spoke about Pichegru in front of several people was the day of his final examination. I later learned from a reliable source that during his examination, Pichegru, while careful not to say anything that could implicate the other prisoners, showed no intention to be kind to the man who had sought and planned his death. Instead, he was determined to reveal the disgusting tactics of the plot that the police had dragged him into. He also stated that he and his companions were no longer focused on overthrowing Bonaparte’s regime, a plan they had been lured into through shameful intrigues. I’m convinced that the fear stirred up by his willingness to speak out with complete honesty sped up Pichegru’s death. M. Real, who is still alive, knows better than anyone what Pichegru said since he interrogated him. I don’t know if that gentleman will decide at some point, now or in the future, to lift the veil of mystery surrounding these events, but I’m certain he cannot deny anything I’m stating. There is almost conclusive evidence that Pichegru was strangled in prison, so any idea of suicide must be dismissed as unacceptable. Do I have solid proof of what I’m saying? I do not; but the combination of facts and the weight of probabilities leaves me with little room for the doubts I’d prefer to hold regarding that tragic event. Furthermore, there exists a certain common instinct that is rarely wrong, and many will remember that general opinion leaned toward the idea of Pichegru’s assassination, and the attempts to redirect that opinion by theatrically displaying the body only served to reinforce it. Someone who declares, “I did not commit this or that crime,” at least acknowledges that there’s room to suspect their guilt.







      The truth is, the tide of opinion never set in with such force against
      Bonaparte as during the trial of Moreau; nor was the popular sentiment in
      error on the subject of the death of Pichegru, who was clearly strangled
      in the Temple by secret agents. The authors, the actors, and the witnesses
      of the horrible prison scenes of the period are the only persons capable
      of removing the doubts which still hang over the death of Pichegru; but I
      must nevertheless contend that the preceding circumstances, the general
      belief at the time, and even probability, are in contradiction with any
      idea of suicide on the part of Pichegru. His death was considered
      necessary, and this necessity was its real cause.
    
The truth is, public opinion never turned against Bonaparte as strongly as it did during Moreau's trial; nor was the public wrong about Pichegru's death, who was clearly strangled in the Temple by secret agents. The people involved—those who created, acted in, and witnessed the horrific prison scenes of that time—are the only ones who can clear up the doubts surrounding Pichegru's death. However, I still argue that the circumstances leading up to it, the general belief at the time, and even the likelihood of the situation all contradict any notion that Pichegru committed suicide. His death was seen as necessary, and that necessity was its true cause.








 


 




















      CHAPTER XXV.
    



      1804.
    
1804.


   Arrest of Georges—The fruiterer's daughter of the Rue de La
   Montagne—St. Genevieve—Louis Bonaparte's visit to the Temple—
   General Lauriston—Arrest of Villeneuve and Barco—Villeneuve
   wounded—Moreau during his imprisonment—Preparations for leaving
   the Temple—Remarkable change in Georges—Addresses and
   congratulations—Speech of the First Consul forgotten—Secret
   negotiations with the Senate—Official proposition of Bonaparte's
   elevation to the Empire—Sitting of the Council of State—
   Interference of Bonaparte—Individual votes—Seven against twenty—
   His subjects and his people—Appropriateness of the title of
   Emperor—Communications between Bonaparte and the Senate—Bonaparte
   first called Sire by Cambacérès—First letter signed by Napoleon as
   Emperor—Grand levee at the Tuileries—Napoleon's address to the
   Imperial Guard—Organic 'Senatus-consulte'—Revival of old formulas
   and titles—The Republicanism of Lucien—The Spanish Princess—
   Lucien's clandestine marriage—Bonaparte's influence on the German
   Princes—Intrigues of England—Drake at Munich—Project for
   overthrowing Bonaparte's Government—Circular from the Minister for
   Foreign Affairs to the members of the Diplomatic Body—Answers to
   that circular.

   Arrest of Georges—the fruit seller’s daughter from Rue de La Montagne—St. Genevieve—Louis Bonaparte's visit to the Temple—General Lauriston—Arrest of Villeneuve and Barco—Villeneuve wounded—Moreau during his imprisonment—Preparations for leaving the Temple—Notable change in Georges—Addresses and congratulations—Speech of the First Consul forgotten—Secret negotiations with the Senate—Official proposal for Bonaparte's rise to the Empire—Council of State meeting—Bonaparte's interference—Individual votes—Seven against twenty—His subjects and his people—Suitability of the title of Emperor—Communications between Bonaparte and the Senate—Bonaparte first called Sire by Cambacérès—First letter signed by Napoleon as Emperor—Grand reception at the Tuileries—Napoleon's address to the Imperial Guard—Organic Senatus-consulte—Revival of old formulas and titles—Lucien's Republicanism—The Spanish Princess—Lucien's secret marriage—Bonaparte's influence over the German Princes—Intrigues of England—Drake in Munich—Plan to overthrow Bonaparte's Government—Circular from the Foreign Affairs Minister to the members of the Diplomatic Body—Responses to that circular.







      Georges was arrested about seven o'clock, on the evening of the 9th of
      March, with another conspirator, whose name, I think, was Leridan. Georges
      was stopped in a cabriolet on the Place de l'Odeon, whither he had no
      doubt been directed by the police agent, who was constantly about him. In
      not seizing him at his lodgings, the object, probably, was to give more
      publicity to his arrest, and to produce an effect upon the minds of the
      multitude. This calculation cost the life of one man, and had well-nigh
      sacrificed the lives of two, for Georges, who constantly carried arms
      about him, first shot dead the police officer who seized the horse's
      reins, and wounded another who advanced to arrest him is the cabriolet.
      Besides his pistols there was found upon him a poniard of English
      manufacture.
    
Georges was arrested around seven o'clock in the evening on March 9th, along with another conspirator, who I believe was named Leridan. Georges was stopped in a cab on the Place de l'Odeon, where he had likely been led by the police agent who was always following him. By not capturing him at his place, the intention was probably to make his arrest more public and influence the crowd's perception. This decision cost one man his life and nearly put two others in danger because Georges, who always carried weapons, first shot dead the police officer who grabbed the horse's reins and injured another officer who approached him in the cab. In addition to his pistols, he was found with a British-made dagger.







      Georges lodged with a woman named Lemoine, who kept a fruiterer's shop in
      the Rue de la Montagne St. Genevieve, and on the evening of the 9th of
      March he had just left his lodging to go, it was said, to a perfumer's
      named Caron. It is difficult to suppose that the circumstance of the
      police being on the spot was the mere effect of chance. The fruiterer's
      daughter was putting into the cabriolet a parcel belonging to Georges at
      the moment of his arrest. Georges, seeing the officers advance to seize
      him, desired the girl to get out of the way, fearing lest he should shoot
      her when he fired on the officers. She ran into a neighbouring house,
      taking the parcel along with her. The police, it may readily be supposed,
      were soon after her. The master of the house in which she had taken
      refuge, curious to know what the parcel contained, had opened it, and
      discovered, among other things, a bag containing 1000 Dutch sovereigns,
      from which he acknowledged he had abstracted a considerable sum. He and
      his wife, as well as the fruiterer's daughter, were all arrested; as to
      Georges, he was taken that same evening to the Temple, where he remained
      until his removal to the Conciergerie when the trial commenced.
    
Georges stayed with a woman named Lemoine, who ran a fruit shop on Rue de la Montagne St. Genevieve. On the evening of March 9th, he had just left his place to go, reportedly, to a perfumer's called Caron. It's hard to believe that the police showing up was just a coincidence. The fruit shop owner's daughter was putting a package that belonged to Georges into a cabriolet when he was arrested. Seeing the officers approaching to capture him, Georges told the girl to move aside, worried he might accidentally shoot her when he fired at the police. She ran into a nearby house, taking the package with her. The police quickly followed her. The owner of the house where she sought refuge, curious about the package's contents, opened it and found, among other things, a bag with 1000 Dutch sovereigns, which he admitted to taking a large amount from. He, his wife, and the fruit shop owner's daughter were all arrested. As for Georges, he was taken that same evening to the Temple, where he stayed until he was moved to the Conciergerie when the trial began.







      During the whole of the legal proceedings Georges and the other important
      prisoners were kept in solitary confinement. Immediately on Pichegru's
      death the prisoners were informed of the circumstance. As they were all
      acquainted with the general, and none believed the fact of his reported
      suicide, it may easily be conceived what consternation and horror the
      tragical event excited among them. I learned, and I was sorry to hear of
      it, that Louis Bonaparte, who was an excellent man, and, beyond all
      comparison, the best of the family, had the cruel curiosity to see Georges
      in his prison a few days after the death of Pichegru, and when the
      sensation of horror excited by that event in the interior of the Temple
      was at its height, Louis repaired to the prison, accompanied by a
      brilliant escort of staff-officers, and General Savary introduced him to
      the prisoners. When Louis arrived, Georges was lying on his bed with his
      hands strongly bound by manacles. Lauriston, who accompanied Louis,
      related to me some of the particulars of this visit, which, in spite of
      his sincere devotedness to the first Consul, he assured me had been very
      painful to him.
    
During the entire legal proceedings, Georges and the other key prisoners were kept in solitary confinement. As soon as Pichegru died, the prisoners were informed about it. Since they all knew the general and none of them believed the news of his reported suicide, you can imagine the shock and horror that this tragic event caused among them. I found out, and I was saddened to hear, that Louis Bonaparte, who was a good person and by far the best of the family, had the cruel curiosity to see Georges in his prison a few days after Pichegru's death, while the sense of horror from that event was still fresh in the Temple. Louis went to the prison with a bright entourage of staff officers, and General Savary introduced him to the prisoners. When Louis arrived, Georges was lying on his bed with his hands tightly bound by manacles. Lauriston, who was with Louis, told me some details about this visit, which, despite his genuine loyalty to the first Consul, he assured me was very distressing for him.







      After the arrest of Georges there were still some individuals marked out
      as accomplices in the conspiracy who had found means to elude the search
      of the police. The persons last arrested were, I think, Villeneuve, one of
      the principal confidants of Georges, Burban Malabre, who went by the name
      of Barco, and Charles d'Hozier. They were not taken till five days after
      the arrest of the Duc d'Enghien. The famous Commissioner Comminges,
      accompanied by an inspector and a detachment of gendarmes d'Elite, found
      Villeneuve and Burban Malabre in the house of a man named Dubuisson, in
      the Rue Jean Robert.
    
After Georges was arrested, there were still some people identified as accomplices in the conspiracy who managed to avoid being caught by the police. The last ones to be arrested were, I believe, Villeneuve, one of Georges' main confidants, Burban Malabre, known as Barco, and Charles d'Hozier. They weren’t apprehended until five days after the Duc d'Enghien's arrest. The well-known Commissioner Comminges, along with an inspector and a team of elite police officers, found Villeneuve and Burban Malabre at a house owned by a man named Dubuisson on Rue Jean Robert.







      This Dubuisson and his wife had sheltered some of the principal persons
      proscribed by the police. The Messieurs de Polignac and M. de Riviere had
      lodged with them. When the police came to arrest Villeneuve and Burban
      Malabre the people with whom they lodged declared that they had gone away
      in the morning. The officers, however, searched the house, and discovered
      a secret door within a closet. They called, and receiving no answer, the
      gendarmerie had recourse to one of those expedients which were,
      unfortunately, too familiar to them. They fired a pistol through the door.
      Villeneuve, who went by the name of Joyau, was wounded in the arm, which
      obliged him and his companion to come from the place of their concealment,
      and they were then made prisoners.
    
This Dubuisson and his wife had hidden some of the key figures wanted by the police. The Messieurs de Polignac and M. de Riviere had stayed with them. When the police came to arrest Villeneuve and Burban Malabre, the people they were staying with claimed that they had left in the morning. However, the officers searched the house and found a secret door inside a closet. They called out but got no response, so the gendarmerie resorted to one of their usual tactics. They fired a pistol through the door. Villeneuve, who went by the name Joyau, was hit in the arm, forcing him and his companion to come out of hiding, and they were then captured.







      Moreau was not treated with the degree of rigour observed towards the
      other prisoners. Indeed, it would not have been safe so to treat him, for
      even in his prison he received the homage and respect of all the military,
      not excepting even those who were his guards. Many of these soldiers had
      served under him, and it could not be forgotten how much he was beloved by
      the troops he had commanded. He did not possess that irresistible charm
      which in Bonaparte excited attachment, but his mildness of temper and
      excellent character inspired love and respect. It was the general opinion
      in Paris that a single word from Moreau to the soldiers in whose custody
      he was placed would in a moment have converted the gaoler-guard into a
      guard of honour, ready to execute all that might be required for the
      safety of the conqueror of Hohenlinden. Perhaps the respect with which he
      was treated and the indulgence of daily seeing his wife and child were but
      artful calculations for keeping him within the limits of his usual
      character. Besides, Moreau was so confident of the injustice of the charge
      brought against him that he was calm and resigned, and showed no
      disposition to rouse the anger of an enemy who would have been happy to
      have some real accusation against him. To these causes combined I always
      attributed the resignation; and I may say the indifference, of Moreau
      while he was in prison and on his trial.
    
Moreau wasn’t treated as harshly as the other prisoners. In fact, it wouldn’t have been safe to do so, because even in his confinement, he commanded the admiration and respect of all the military, including his guards. Many of those soldiers had served under him and remembered how much he was loved by the troops he led. He didn't have the same magnetic charm that Bonaparte used to inspire loyalty, but his gentle nature and good character earned him love and respect. The general belief in Paris was that a single word from Moreau to the soldiers guarding him would instantly turn his guard into a group of honor guards, ready to do anything for the safety of the conqueror of Hohenlinden. Perhaps the respect he received and the privilege of seeing his wife and child each day were calculated moves to keep him in line with his usual demeanor. Moreover, Moreau felt so certain of the unfairness of the charges against him that he remained calm and resigned, showing no inclination to provoke an enemy that would have relished any real accusation against him. I always attributed his resignation—and I might say his indifference—while he was in prison and on trial to these combined factors.







      When the legal preparations for the trial were ended the prisoners of the
      Temple were permitted to communicate with each other, and, viewing their
      fate with that indifference which youth, misfortune, and courage inspired,
      they amused themselves with some of those games which usually serve for
      boyish recreation. While they were thus engaged the order arrived for
      their removal to the Conciergerie. The firmness of all remained unshaken,
      and they made their preparations for departure as if they were going about
      any ordinary business. This fortitude was particularly remarkable in
      Georges, in whose manner a change had taken place which was remarked by
      all his companions in misfortune.
    
When the legal preparations for the trial were over, the prisoners in the Temple were allowed to talk to each other. Seeing their fate with the indifference that youth, misfortune, and courage bring, they entertained themselves with some games typical for young boys. While they were busy with that, the order came for their transfer to the Conciergerie. Everyone stayed strong, and they got ready to leave as if they were just going about any normal task. This bravery was especially notable in Georges, whose demeanor had changed in a way that all his fellow prisoners noticed.







      For some time past the agents of Government throughout France had been
      instructed to solicit the First Consul to grant for the people what the
      people did not want, but what Bonaparte wished to take while he appeared
      to yield to the general will, namely, unlimited sovereign authority, free
      from any subterfuge of denomination. The opportunity of the great
      conspiracy just discovered, and in which Bonaparte had not incurred a
      moment's danger, as he did at the time of the infernal machine, was not
      suffered to escape; that opportunity was, on the contrary, eagerly seized
      by the authorities of every rank, civil, ecclesiastical, and military, and
      a torrent of addresses, congratulations, and thanksgivings inundated the
      Tuileries. Most of the authors of these addressee did not confine
      themselves to mere congratulations; they entreated Bonaparte to
      consolidate his work, the true meaning of which was that it was time he
      should make himself Emperor and establish hereditary succession. Those who
      on other occasions had shown an officious readiness to execute Bonaparte's
      commands did not now fear to risk his displeasure by opposing the opinion
      he had expressed in the Council of State on the discussion of the question
      of the Consulate for life. Bonaparte then said, "Hereditary succession is
      absurd. It is irreconcilable with the principle of the sovereignty of the
      people, and impossible in France."
    
For some time now, government agents across France had been instructed to persuade the First Consul to grant the people something they didn't want, but that Bonaparte wanted to impose while pretending to listen to the general will—specifically, unlimited sovereign power, without any guise of title. The opportunity presented by the recent conspiracy that had just been uncovered, in which Bonaparte faced no real danger as he did during the explosive incident, was not missed; instead, it was eagerly taken up by officials at all levels—civil, religious, and military—and a flood of messages, congratulations, and thanks poured into the Tuileries. Most of the people sending these messages didn't stop at simple congratulations; they urged Bonaparte to solidify his position, which really meant it was time for him to declare himself Emperor and establish a hereditary succession. Those who had previously been eager to carry out Bonaparte's orders were now willing to risk his displeasure by opposing his views expressed in the Council of State regarding the topic of a lifetime Consulate. Bonaparte had stated then, "Hereditary succession is ridiculous. It contradicts the principle of the sovereignty of the people and is impossible in France."







      In this scene of the grand drama Bonaparte played his part with his
      accustomed talent, keeping himself in the background and leaving to others
      the task of preparing the catastrophe. The Senate, who took the lead in
      the way of insinuation, did not fail, while congratulating the First
      Consul on his escape from the plots of foreigners, or, as they were
      officially styled, the daggers of England, to conjure him not to delay the
      completion of his work. Six days after the death of the Duc d'Enghien the
      Senate first expressed this wish. Either because Bonaparte began to repent
      of a useless crime, and felt the ill effect it must produce on the public
      mind, or because he found the language of the Senate somewhat vague, he
      left the address nearly a month unanswered, and then only replied by the
      request that the intention of the address might be more completely
      expressed. These negotiations between the Senate and the Head of the
      Government were not immediately published. Bonaparte did not like
      publicity except for what had arrived at a result; but to attain the
      result which was the object of his ambition it was necessary that the
      project which he was maturing should be introduced in the Tribunate, and
      the tribune Curee had the honour to be the first to propose officially, on
      the 30th of April 1804, the conversion of the Consular Republic into an
      Empire, and the elevation of Bonaparte to the title of Emperor; with the
      rights of hereditary succession.
    
In this scene of the grand drama, Bonaparte played his role with his usual skill, staying in the background and letting others handle the unfolding disaster. The Senate, which took the initiative through subtle hints, made sure to congratulate the First Consul on his escape from foreign plots, or as they were officially called, the daggers of England, while urging him not to delay in completing his work. Six days after the death of the Duc d'Enghien, the Senate first voiced this desire. Either because Bonaparte began to regret an unnecessary crime and recognized its negative impact on public opinion, or because he found the Senate's wording somewhat unclear, he left the address unanswered for nearly a month, eventually responding only with a request for clarification on the address's intent. These discussions between the Senate and the Head of Government were not disclosed right away. Bonaparte preferred to keep things under wraps unless there was a concrete outcome; however, to achieve his ambitious goals, it was necessary to present the project he was developing to the Tribunate. The tribune Curee had the honor of being the first to officially propose, on April 30, 1804, the transformation of the Consular Republic into an Empire and Bonaparte's elevation to the title of Emperor, along with the rights of hereditary succession.







      If any doubts could exist respecting the complaisant part which Curee
      acted on this occasion one circumstance would suffice to remove them; that
      is, that ten days before the development of his proposition Bonaparte had
      caused the question of founding the Empire and establishing hereditary
      succession in his family to be secretly discussed in the Council of State.
      I learned from one of the Councillors of State all that passed on that
      occasion, and I may remark that Cambacérès showed himself particularly
      eager in the Council of State, as well as afterwards in the Senate, to
      become the exalted subject of him who had been his first colleague in the
      Consulate.
    
If there were any doubts about the supportive role Curee played in this situation, one fact would clear them up: ten days before he presented his proposal, Bonaparte had secretly brought up the idea of founding the Empire and establishing a hereditary succession in his family during a Council of State meeting. I got the details from one of the Councillors of State, and I should note that Cambacérès was particularly eager both in the Council of State and later in the Senate to become the prominent figure of someone who had been his first colleague in the Consulate.







      About the middle of April, the Council of State being assembled as for an
      ordinary sitting, the First Consul, who was frequently present at the
      sittings, did not appear. Cambacérès arrived and took the Presidency in
      his quality of Second Consul, and it was remarked that his air was more
      solemn than usual, though he at all times affected gravity.
    
About the middle of April, the Council of State gathered for a regular meeting, but the First Consul, who usually attended, did not show up. Cambacérès came in and took over as President in his role as Second Consul, and it was noted that he seemed more serious than usual, even though he always tried to appear solemn.







      The partisans of hereditary succession were the majority, and resolved to
      present an address to the First Consul. Those of the Councillors who
      opposed this determined on their part to send a counter-address; and to
      avoid this clashing of opinions Bonaparte signified his wish that each
      member of the Council should send him his opinion individually, with his
      signature affixed. By a singular accident it happened to be Berlier's task
      to present to the First Consul the separate opinions of the Council. Out
      of the twenty-seven Councillors present only seven opposed the question.
      Bonaparte received them all most graciously, and told them, among other
      things, that he wished for hereditary power only for the benefit of
      France; that the citizens would never be his subjects, and that the French
      people would never be his people. Such were the preliminaries to the
      official proposition of Curee to the Tribunate, and upon reflection it was
      decided that, as all opposition would be useless and perhaps dangerous to
      the opposing party, the minority should join the majority. This was
      accordingly done.
    
The supporters of hereditary succession were in the majority and decided to present a message to the First Consul. Those Councillors who disagreed with this planned to send a counter-message; to prevent this clash of views, Bonaparte expressed his desire for each Council member to share his thoughts individually, with his signature attached. By a strange twist of fate, it was Berlier's job to deliver the Councillors' separate opinions to the First Consul. Out of the twenty-seven Councillors present, only seven opposed the idea. Bonaparte received them all very graciously, stating, among other things, that he wanted hereditary power solely for the good of France, that the citizens would never be his subjects, and that the French people would never be his people. These were the preliminaries to Curee’s official proposal to the Tribunate, and after some consideration, it was determined that, since all opposition would be futile and possibly risky for the dissenting party, the minority should align with the majority. This was done accordingly.







      The Tribunate having adopted the proposition of Curee, there was no longer
      any motive for concealing the overtures of the Senate. Its address to the
      First Consul was therefore published forty days after its date: the pear
      was then ripe. This period is so important that I must not omit putting
      together the most remarkable facts which either came within my own
      observation, or which I have learned since respecting the foundation of
      the Empire.
    
The Tribunate accepted Curee's proposal, so there was no reason to hide the Senate's overtures anymore. Its message to the First Consul was released forty days after it was written: the time was right. This time frame is so crucial that I need to compile the most notable facts that I either witnessed myself or have learned since regarding the establishment of the Empire.







      Bonaparte had a long time before spoken to me of the title of Emperor as
      being the most appropriate for the new sovereignty which he wished to
      found in France. This, he observed, was not restoring the old system
      entirely, and he dwelt much on its being the title which Caesar had borne.
      He often said, "One may be the Emperor of a republic, but not the King of
      a republic, those two terms are incongruous."
    
Bonaparte had previously talked to me about the title of Emperor as the most fitting for the new rule he wanted to establish in France. He pointed out that this wasn't a complete return to the old system, and he often emphasized that it was the title that Caesar had held. He frequently remarked, "One can be the Emperor of a republic, but not the King of a republic; those two terms don’t go together."







      In its first address the Senate had taken as a test the documents it had
      received from the Government in relation to the intrigues of Drake, who
      had been sent from England to Munich. That text afforded the opportunity
      for a vague expression of what the Senate termed the necessities of
      France. To give greater solemnity to the affair the Senate proceeded in a
      body to the Tuileries, and one thing which gave a peculiar character to
      the preconcerted advances of the Senate was that Cambacérès, the Second
      Consul, fulfilled his functions of President on this occasion, and
      delivered the address to the First Consul.
    
In its first address, the Senate used the documents it had received from the Government regarding Drake’s activities, who had been sent from England to Munich, as a test. This document allowed for a vague expression of what the Senate referred to as the necessities of France. To add more seriousness to the matter, the Senate went in a group to the Tuileries. One thing that made the Senate’s planned approach unique was that Cambacérès, the Second Consul, took on his role as President during this occasion and delivered the address to the First Consul.







      However, the First Consul thought the address of the Senate, which, I have
      been informed, was drawn up by Francois de Neufchateau, was not expressed
      with sufficient clearness; he therefore, after suffering a little interval
      to elapse, sent a message to the Senate signed by himself, in which he
      said, "Your address has been the object of my earnest consideration." And
      though the address contained no mention of hereditary succession, he
      added, "You consider the hereditary succession of the supreme magistracy
      necessary to defend the French people against the plots of our enemies and
      the agitation arising from rival ambition. At the same time several of our
      institutions appear to you to require improvement so as to ensure the
      triumph of equality and public liberty, and to offer to the nation and the
      Government the double guarantee they require." From the subsequent
      passages of the message it will be sufficient to extract the following:
      "We have been constantly guided by this great truth: that the sovereignty
      dwells with the French people, and that it is for their interest,
      happiness, and glory that the Supreme Magistracy, the Senate, the Council
      of State, the Legislative Body, the Electoral Colleges, and the different
      branches of the Government, are and must be instituted." The omission of
      the Tribunate in this enumeration is somewhat remarkable. It announced a
      promise which was speedily realised.
    
However, the First Consul believed that the Senate's address, which I’ve been told was written by Francois de Neufchateau, wasn’t clear enough. After letting a bit of time pass, he sent a message to the Senate under his own signature, stating, "Your address has been the object of my serious consideration." Although the address didn't mention hereditary succession, he added, "You see the hereditary succession of the supreme position as necessary to protect the French people from the schemes of our enemies and the unrest caused by competing ambitions. At the same time, some of our institutions seem to need improvement to ensure the success of equality and public liberty while providing both the nation and the Government with the dual guarantee they need." From the following sections of the message, we can draw out this: "We have always been guided by this important truth: sovereignty resides with the French people, and it is for their benefit, happiness, and glory that the Supreme Magistracy, the Senate, the Council of State, the Legislative Body, the Electoral Colleges, and the various branches of Government are and must be established." The absence of the Tribunate in this list is quite notable. It signaled a promise that was soon fulfilled.







      The will of Bonaparte being thus expressed in his message to the—Senate,
      that body, which was created to preserve the institutions consecrated by
      the Constitution of the year VIII., had no alternative but to submit to
      the intentions manifested by the First Consul. The reply to the message
      was, therefore, merely a counterpart of the message itself. It positively
      declared that hereditary government was essential to the happiness, the
      glory, and the prosperity of France, and that that government could be
      confided only to Bonaparte and his family. While the Senate so
      complaisantly played its part in this well-get-up piece, yet, the better
      to impose on the credulity of the multitude, its reply, like Bonaparte's
      message, resounded with the words liberty and equality. Indeed, it was
      impudently asserted in that reply that Bonaparte's accession to hereditary
      power would be a certain guarantee for the liberty of the press, a liberty
      which Bonaparte held in the greatest horror, and without which all other
      liberty is but a vain illusion.
    
The will of Bonaparte was clearly stated in his message to the Senate. This body, established to uphold the institutions set by the Constitution of Year VIII, had no choice but to agree with the intentions expressed by the First Consul. As a result, the response to the message was simply a mirror of the message itself. It explicitly stated that hereditary rule was necessary for the happiness, glory, and prosperity of France, and that this rule could only be entrusted to Bonaparte and his family. While the Senate dutifully played its role in this orchestrated performance, to better deceive the public, its response, like Bonaparte's message, echoed with the words liberty and equality. In fact, it was boldly claimed in that response that Bonaparte's rise to hereditary power would guarantee freedom of the press, a freedom that Bonaparte despised, and without which all other freedoms are just an empty illusion.







      By this reply of the Senate the most important step was performed. There
      now remained merely ceremonies to regulate and formulas to fill up. These
      various arrangements occasioned a delay of a fortnight. On the 18th of May
      the First Consul was greeted for the first time by the appellation of Sire
      by his former colleague, Cambacérès, who at the head of the Senate went to
      present to Bonaparte the organic 'Senatus-consulte' containing the
      foundation of the Empire. Napoleon was at St. Cloud, whither the Senate
      proceeded in state. After the speech of Cambacérès, in which the old
      designation of Majesty was for the first time revived, the EMPEROR
      replied:—
    
With this response from the Senate, the most significant step was taken. Now, only ceremonies needed to be organized and formalities completed. These various arrangements caused a two-week delay. On May 18th, the First Consul was addressed as Sire for the first time by his former colleague, Cambacérès, who, at the head of the Senate, went to present the organic 'Senatus-consulte' that laid the foundation of the Empire to Bonaparte. Napoleon was at St. Cloud, where the Senate arrived in a formal procession. After Cambacérès’ speech, which revived the old title of Majesty for the first time, the EMPEROR replied:—






   All that can contribute to the welfare of the country is essentially
   connected with my happiness. I accept the title which you believe
   to be conducive to the glory of the nation. I submit to the
   sanction of the people the law of hereditary succession. I hope
   that France will never repent the honours she may confer on my
   family. At all events, my spirit will not be with my posterity when
   they cease to merit the confidence and love of the great nation.

   Everything that can benefit the country is closely tied to my happiness. I accept the title that you think will enhance the nation's glory. I agree to the people's approval of the law of hereditary succession. I hope that France will never regret the honors she chooses to bestow upon my family. In any case, my spirit will not be with my descendants if they no longer deserve the trust and love of the great nation.







      Cambacérès next went to congratulate the Empress, and then was realised to
      Josephine the prediction which I had made to her three years before at
      Malmaison.
    
Cambacérès then went to congratulate the Empress and shared with Josephine the prediction I had made to her three years earlier at Malmaison.






 —[In the original motion as prepared by Curee, the Imperial dignity
   was to be declared hereditary in the family of Napoleon. Previous to
   being formerly read before the Tribunate, the First Consul sent for
   the document, and when it was returned it was found that the word
   family was altered to descendants. Fabre, the President of the
   Tribunate, who received the altered document from Maret, seeing the
   effect the alteration would have on the brothers of Napoleon, and
   finding that Maret affected to crest the change as immaterial, took
   on himself to restore the original form, and in that shape it was
   read by the unconscious Curee to the Tribunals. On this curious,
   passage see Miot de Melito, tome ii, p. 179. As finally settled the
   descent of the crown in default of Napoleon's children was limited
   to Joseph and Louis and their descendants, but the power of adoption
   was given to Napoleon. The draft of the 'Senates-consulte' was
   heard by the Council of State in silence, and Napoleon tried in vain
   to get even the most talkative of the members now to speak. The
   Senate were not unanimous in rendering the 'Senatus-consulte'. The
   three votes given against it were said to have been Gregoire, the
   former constitutional Bishop of Blois, Carat, who as Minister of
   Justice had read to Louis XVI. the sentence of death, and
   Lanjuinais, one of the very few survivors of the Girondists, Thiers
   says there was only one dissentient voice. For the fury of the
   brothers of Napoleon, who saw the destruction of all their ambitions
   hopes in any measure for the descent of the crown except in the
   family, see Miot, tome ii. p.. 172, where Joseph is described as
   cursing the ambition of his brother, and desiring his death as a
   benefit for France and his family.]— 
 —[In the original motion prepared by Curee, the imperial title was meant to be declared hereditary in Napoleon's family. Before it was officially presented to the Tribunate, the First Consul summoned the document and, when it was returned, noticed that the term family had been changed to descendants. Fabre, the President of the Tribunate, who received the altered document from Maret, realized the impact this change would have on Napoleon's brothers and, seeing that Maret dismissed the change as unimportant, took it upon himself to restore the original wording. It was in this form that the unaware Curee presented it to the Tribunals. For more on this interesting incident, see Miot de Melito, tome ii, p. 179. Ultimately, it was decided that the crown would pass to Joseph and Louis and their descendants, should Napoleon have no children, but Napoleon was given the power to adopt. The draft of the 'Senates-consulte' was presented to the Council of State in silence, and Napoleon unsuccessfully tried to prompt even the most talkative members to speak. The Senate was not unanimous in passing the 'Senatus-consulte.' Three votes against it were reportedly cast by Gregoire, the former constitutional Bishop of Blois; Carat, who had read Louis XVI's death sentence as Minister of Justice; and Lanjuinais, one of the few survivors of the Girondists. Thiers noted that only one voice dissented. For the outrage of Napoleon's brothers, who saw all their ambitions crushed because the crown would not be passed down except through family, see Miot, tome ii, p. 172, where Joseph is depicted as cursing his brother's ambition and wishing for his death as a benefit for France and his family.]—







      Bonaparte's first act as Emperor, on the very day of his elevation to the
      Imperial throne, was the nomination of Joseph to the dignity of Grand
      Elector, with the title of Imperial Highness. Louis was raised to the
      dignity of Constable, with the same title, and Cambacérès and Lebrun were
      created Arch-Chancellor and Arch-Treasurer of the Empire. On the same day
      Bonaparte wrote the following letter to Cambacérès, the first which he
      signed as Emperor, and merely with the name of Napoleon:—
    
Bonaparte's first action as Emperor, on the very day he took the Imperial throne, was to appoint Joseph as Grand Elector, giving him the title of Imperial Highness. Louis was promoted to Constable, also with the same title, and Cambacérès and Lebrun were made Arch-Chancellor and Arch-Treasurer of the Empire. On that same day, Bonaparte wrote the following letter to Cambacérès, the first he signed as Emperor, simply using the name Napoleon:—






   CITIZEN CONSUL CAMBACERES—Your title has changed; but your
   functions and my confidence remain the same. In the high dignity
   with which you are now invested you will continue to manifest, as
   you have hitherto done in that of Consul, that wisdom and that
   distinguished talent which entitle you to so important a share in
   all the good which I may have effected. I have, therefore, only to
   desire the continuance of the sentiments you cherish towards the
   State and me.

   Given at the Palace of St. Cloud, 28th Floréal, an XII.
   (18th May 1804).
                       (Signed) NAPOLEON.

   By the Emperor.
   H. B. MARET.

   CITIZEN CONSUL CAMBACERES—Your title has changed, but your responsibilities and my trust in you remain the same. In the high position you now hold, I expect you to continue showing the wisdom and exceptional talent that have earned you a significant role in all the good I may have accomplished. Therefore, I ask that you keep the same feelings you have for the State and for me.

   Given at the Palace of St. Cloud, 28th Floréal, an XII. (18th May 1804).  
                       (Signed) NAPOLEON.

   By the Emperor.  
   H. B. MARET.







      I have quoted this first letter of the Emperor because it is
      characteristic of Bonaparte's art in managing transitions. It was to the
      Citizen Consul that the Emperor addressed himself, and it was dated
      according to the Republican calendar. That calendar, together with the
      delusive inscription on the coin, were all that now remained of the
      Republic. Next day the Emperor came to Paris to hold a grand levee at the
      Tuileries, for he was not the man to postpone the gratification that
      vanity derived from his new dignity and title. The assembly was more
      numerous and brilliant than on any former occasion. Bessières having
      addressed the Emperor on the part of the Guards, the Emperor replied in
      the following terms: "I know the sentiments the Guards cherish towards me.
      I repose perfect confidence in their courage and fidelity. I constantly
      see, with renewed pleasure, companions in arms who have escaped so many
      dangers, and are covered with so many honourable wounds. I experience a
      sentiment of satisfaction when I look at the Guards, and think that there
      has not, for the last fifteen years, in any of the four quarters of the
      world, been a battle in which some of them have not taken part."
    
I have quoted this first letter from the Emperor because it demonstrates Bonaparte's talent for managing transitions. He addressed it to the Citizen Consul, and it was dated according to the Republican calendar. That calendar, along with the misleading inscription on the coin, was all that remained of the Republic. The next day, the Emperor arrived in Paris to host a grand levee at the Tuileries, as he was not the type to delay the satisfaction that came from his new dignity and title. The gathering was larger and more dazzling than any before. After Bessières spoke to the Emperor on behalf of the Guards, the Emperor responded with the following words: "I know the feelings the Guards have towards me. I have complete confidence in their courage and loyalty. I constantly take pleasure in seeing comrades in arms who have survived so many dangers and are adorned with so many honorable wounds. I feel a sense of satisfaction when I look at the Guards and remember that for the past fifteen years, there has not been a battle anywhere in the world without some of them taking part."







      On the same day all the generals and colonels in Paris were presented to
      the Emperor by Louis Bonaparte, who had already begun to exercise his
      functions of Constable. In a few days everything assumed a new aspect; but
      in spite of the admiration which was openly expressed the Parisians
      secretly ridiculed the new courtiers. This greatly displeased Bonaparte,
      who was very charitably informed of it in order to check his prepossession
      in favour of the men of the old Court, such as the Comte de Segur, and at
      a later period Comte Louis de Narbonne.
    
On the same day, all the generals and colonels in Paris were introduced to the Emperor by Louis Bonaparte, who had already started to take on his role as Constable. In just a few days, everything had a fresh look; however, despite the admiration openly expressed, the Parisians secretly mocked the new courtiers. This really upset Bonaparte, who was kindly made aware of it to curb his bias in favor of the old Court figures, like Comte de Segur, and later, Comte Louis de Narbonne.







      To give all possible solemnity to his accession Napoleon ordered that the
      Senate itself should proclaim in Paris the organic 'Senates-consulte',
      which entirely changed the Constitution of the State. By one of those
      anomalies which I have frequently had occasion to remark, the Emperor
      fixed for this ceremony Sunday, the 30th Floral. That day was a festival
      in all Paris, while the unfortunate prisoners were languishing in the
      dungeons of the Temple.
    
To give all possible seriousness to his rise to power, Napoleon ordered the Senate to announce in Paris the official 'Senates-consulte', which completely altered the Constitution of the State. In one of those oddities I've often noticed, the Emperor chose Sunday, the 30th Floral, for this ceremony. That day was a celebration across Paris, while the unfortunate prisoners suffered in the dungeons of the Temple.







      On the day after Bonaparte's accession the old formulae were restored. The
      Emperor determined that the French Princes and Princesses should receive
      the title of Imperial Highness; that his sisters should take the same
      title; that the grand dignitaries of the Empire should be called Serene
      Highnesses; that the Princes and titularies of the grand dignitaries
      should be addressed by the title of Monseigneur; that M. Maret, the
      Secretary of State, should have the rank of Minister; that the ministers
      should retain the title of Excellency, to which should be added that of
      Monseigneur in the petitions addressed to them; and that the title of
      Excellency should be given to the President of the Senate.
    
The day after Bonaparte took power, the old titles were brought back. The Emperor decided that the French Princes and Princesses would be called Imperial Highness; his sisters would have the same title; the high officials of the Empire would be addressed as Serene Highnesses; the Princes and titles of the high officials would be referred to as Monseigneur; M. Maret, the Secretary of State, would hold the rank of Minister; the ministers would keep the title of Excellency, which would also include Monseigneur in the petitions directed to them; and the title of Excellency would be given to the President of the Senate.







      At the same time Napoleon appointed the first Marshals of the Empire, and
      determined that they should be called Monsieur le Marechal when addressed
      verbally, and Monseigneur in writing. The following are the names of these
      sons of the Republic transformed into props of the Empire: Berthier,
      Murat, Moncey, Jourdan, Massena, Augereau, Bernadotte, Soult, Brune,
      Lannes, Mortier, Ney, Davoust, and Besaieres. The title of Marshal of the
      Empire was also granted to the generals Kellerman, Lefebvre, Perignon, and
      Serrurier, as having served as commander-in-chief.
    
At the same time, Napoleon appointed the first Marshals of the Empire and decided that they should be addressed as Monsieur le Marechal in conversation and Monseigneur in writing. Here are the names of these men from the Republic who became supporters of the Empire: Berthier, Murat, Moncey, Jourdan, Massena, Augereau, Bernadotte, Soult, Brune, Lannes, Mortier, Ney, Davoust, and Besaieres. The title of Marshal of the Empire was also given to generals Kellerman, Lefebvre, Perignon, and Serrurier for having served as commander-in-chief.







      The reader cannot have failed to observe that the name of Lucien has not
      been mentioned among the individuals of Bonaparte's family on whom
      dignities were conferred. The fact is, the two brothers were no longer on
      good terms with each other. Not, as it has been alleged, because Lucien
      wished to play the part of a Republican, but because he would not submit
      to the imperious will of Napoleon in a circumstance in which the latter
      counted on his brother's docility to serve the interests of his policy. In
      the conferences which preceded the great change in the form of government
      it was not Lucien but Joseph who, probably for the sake of sounding
      opinion, affected an opposition, which was by some mistaken for
      Republicanism. With regard to Lucien, as he had really rendered great
      services to Napoleon on the 19th Brumaire at St. Cloud, and as he himself
      exaggerated the value of those services, he saw no reward worthy of his
      ambition but a throne independent of his brother. It is certain that when
      at Madrid he had aspired to win the good graces of a Spanish Infanta, and
      on that subject reports were circulated with which I have nothing to do,
      because I never had any opportunity of ascertaining their truth. All I
      know is that, Lucien's first wife being dead, Bonaparte, wished him to
      marry a German Princess, by way of forming the first great alliance in the
      family. Lucien, however, refused to comply with Napoleon's wishes, and he
      secretly married the wife of an agent, named, I believe, Joubertou, who
      for the sake of convenience was sent to the West Indies, where he: died
      shortly after. When Bonaparte heard of this marriage from the priest by
      whom it had been clandestinely performed, he fell into a furious passion,
      and resolved not to confer on Lucien the title of French Prince, on
      account of what he termed his unequal match. Lucien, therefore, obtained
      no other dignity than that of Senator.
    
The reader must have noticed that Lucien's name hasn't been mentioned among the members of Bonaparte’s family who received honors. The truth is, the two brothers were no longer on good terms. This wasn’t because Lucien wanted to be a Republican, as some have suggested, but because he refused to bow to Napoleon’s demands when the latter expected his brother to support his political agenda. In the discussions leading up to the major political change, it was Joseph, not Lucien, who pretended to oppose Napoleon, probably to gauge public opinion, which some confused for Republicanism. Lucien had actually provided significant help to Napoleon on the 19th Brumaire at St. Cloud, and he believed that he deserved a reward worthy of his ambition—an independent throne. It’s clear that while in Madrid, he hoped to win the favor of a Spanish Infanta, and though there were rumors about this, I can’t comment further since I couldn't verify their accuracy. All I know is that after Lucien’s first wife passed away, Bonaparte wanted him to marry a German princess to strengthen the family's alliances. However, Lucien refused Napoleon’s wishes and instead secretly married the wife of an agent named, I believe, Joubertou, who was conveniently sent to the West Indies, where he died shortly after. When Bonaparte learned about this secret marriage from the priest who performed the ceremony, he flew into a rage and decided not to give Lucien the title of French Prince, branding the marriage as unequal. As a result, Lucien only received the title of Senator.






 —[According to Lucien himself, Napoleon wished him to marry the
   Queen of Etruria Maria-Louise, daughter of Charles IV. of Spain, who
   had married, 1795 Louie de Bourbon, Prince of Parma, son of the Duke
   of Parma, to whom Napoleon had given Tuscany in 1801 as the Kingdom
   of, Etruria. Her husband had died in May 1808, and she governed in
   the name of her son. Lucien, whose first wife, Anne Christine
   Boyer, had died in 1801, had married his second wife, Alexandrine
   Laurence de Bleschamps, who had married, but who had divorced, a M.
   Jonberthon. When Lucien had been ambassador in Spain in 1801,
   charged among other things with obtaining Elba, the Queen, he says,
   wished Napoleon should marry an Infanta,—Donna Isabella, her
   youngest daughter, afterwards Queen of Naples, an overture to which
   Napoleon seems not to have made any answer. As for Lucien, he
   objected to his brother that the Queen was ugly, and laughed at
   Napoleon's representations as to her being "propre": but at last he
   acknowledged his marriage with Madame Jouberthon. This made a
   complete break between the brothers, and on hearing of the execution
   of the Duc d'Enghien, Lucien said to his wife, "Alexandrine, let us
   go; he has tasted blood." He went to Italy, and in 1810 tried to go
   to the United States. Taken prisoner by the English, he was
   detained first at Malta, and then in England, at Ludlow Castle and
   at Thorngrove, till 1814, when he went to Rome. The Pope, who ever
   showed a kindly feeling towards the Bonapartes, made the
   ex-"Brutus" Bonaparte Prince de Canino and Duc de Musignano.
   In 1815 he joined Napoleon and on the final fall of the Empire
   he was interned at Rome till the death of his brother.]— 
—[Lucien said that Napoleon wanted him to marry the Queen of Etruria, Maria-Louise, who was the daughter of Charles IV of Spain. She had married Louie de Bourbon, the Prince of Parma, in 1795; he was the son of the Duke of Parma, who had been given Tuscany by Napoleon in 1801 as the Kingdom of Etruria. Her husband passed away in May 1808, and she ruled on behalf of her son. Lucien's first wife, Anne Christine Boyer, had died in 1801, and he married his second wife, Alexandrine Laurence de Bleschamps, who had previously been married but was now divorced from a Mr. Jonberthon. While Lucien was an ambassador in Spain in 1801, he was tasked with, among other things, acquiring Elba. The Queen, he says, wanted Napoleon to marry one of her daughters, Donna Isabella, the youngest, who later became Queen of Naples. Napoleon didn’t seem to respond to this suggestion. Lucien complained to his brother that the Queen was unattractive and mocked Napoleon's claims that she was "proper." Eventually, he did acknowledge his marriage to Madame Jouberthon. This caused a complete rift between the brothers, and upon learning of the execution of the Duc d'Enghien, Lucien told his wife, "Alexandrine, we need to leave; he has tasted blood." He went to Italy, and in 1810 attempted to go to the United States. He was captured by the English and held first in Malta, then in England, at Ludlow Castle and Thorngrove, until 1814 when he moved to Rome. The Pope, who always had a soft spot for the Bonapartes, made the former "Brutus" Bonaparte Prince de Canino and Duc de Musignano. In 1815, he joined Napoleon, and after the final downfall of the Empire, he was kept in Rome until his brother's death.]—







      Jerome, who pursued an opposite line of conduct, was afterwards made a
      King. As to Lucien's Republicanism, it did not survive the 18th Brumaire,
      and he was always a warm partisan of hereditary succession.
    
Jerome, who took a different approach, was later made a King. As for Lucien's Republican views, they didn't last past the 18th Brumaire, and he was always a strong supporter of hereditary succession.







      But I pass on to relate what I know respecting the almost incredible
      influence which, on the foundation of the Empire, Bonaparte exercised over
      the powers which did not yet dare to declare war against him. I studied
      Bonaparte's policy closely, and I came to this conclusion on the subject,
      that he was governed by ambition, by the passion of dominion, and that no
      relations, on a footing of equality, between himself and any other power,
      could be of long duration. The other States of Europe had only to choose
      one of two things—submission or war. As to secondary States, they
      might thenceforth be considered as fiefs of the French Government; and as
      they could not resist, Bonaparte easily accustomed them to bend to his
      yoke. Can there be a stronger proof of this arbitrary influence than what
      occurred at Carlsruhe, after the violation of the territory of Baden, by
      the arrest of the Duc d'Enghien? Far from venturing to make any
      observation on that violation, so contrary to the rights of nations, the
      Grand Duke of Baden was obliged to publish, in his own State, a decree
      evidently dictated by Bonaparte. The decree stated, that many individuals
      formerly belonging to the army of Condé having come to the neighbourhood
      of Carlsruhe, his Electoral Highness had felt it his duty to direct that
      no individual coming from Condé's army, nor indeed any French emigrant,
      should, unless he had permission previously to the place, make a longer
      sojourn than was allowed to foreign travellers. Such was already the
      influence which Bonaparte exercised over Germany, whose Princes, to use an
      expression which he employed in a later decree, were crushed by the grand
      measures of the Empire.
    
But I’ll move on to share what I know about the almost unbelievable influence Bonaparte had on the foundation of the Empire, especially over the powers that didn’t yet dare to declare war on him. I studied Bonaparte's policies closely, and I concluded that he was driven by ambition and a desire for control, meaning that no relationship based on equality between him and any other power could last long. The other states of Europe only had to choose between two options—submission or war. As for the smaller states, they could now be seen as vassals of the French Government; since they couldn't resist, Bonaparte quickly made them accept his dominance. Can there be a stronger example of this arbitrary influence than what happened in Carlsruhe, after the territory of Baden was violated by the arrest of the Duc d'Enghien? Rather than daring to protest that violation, which went against the rights of nations, the Grand Duke of Baden was forced to issue a decree in his own state that was clearly written by Bonaparte. The decree stated that many individuals who had once been part of Condé's army had come to the area around Carlsruhe, and that his Electoral Highness felt it necessary to announce that no one coming from Condé's army, nor any French emigrant, should stay longer than what was allowed for foreign travelers unless they had prior permission. Such was the influence Bonaparte already had over Germany, where the Princes, to use a phrase he later included in another decree, were crushed by the grand measures of the Empire.







      But to be just, without however justifying Bonaparte, I must acknowledge
      that the intrigues which England fomented in all parts of the Continent
      were calculated to excite his natural irritability to the utmost degree.
      The agents of England were spread over the whole of Europe, and they
      varied the rumours which they were commissioned to circulate, according to
      the chances of credit which the different places afforded. Their reports
      were generally false; but credulity gave ear to them, and speculators
      endeavoured, each according to his interest, to give them support. The
      headquarters of all this plotting was Munich, where Drake, who was sent
      from England, had the supreme direction. His correspondence, which was
      seized by the French Government, was at first placed amongst the documents
      to be produced on the trial of Georges, Moreau, and the other prisoners;
      but in the course of the preliminary proceedings the Grand Judge received
      directions to detach them, and make them the subject of a special report
      to the First Consul, in order that their publication beforehand might
      influence public opinion, and render it unfavourable to those who were
      doomed to be sacrificed. The instructions given by Drake to his agents
      render it impossible to doubt that England wished to overthrow the
      Government of Bonaparte. Drake wrote as follows to a man who was appointed
      to travel through France:—
    
But to be fair, without justifying Bonaparte, I have to admit that the schemes England stirred up all over the Continent were designed to push his natural irritability to the limit. England's agents were spread throughout Europe, and they adjusted the rumors they were instructed to spread based on how believable they thought they would be in different locations. Their reports were mostly false; yet, people believed them, and speculators sought to support them, each for their own gain. The hub of all this plotting was Munich, where Drake, sent from England, had the top command. His correspondence, which was intercepted by the French Government, was initially included among the documents to be used in the trial of Georges, Moreau, and the other prisoners; however, during the preliminary proceedings, the Grand Judge was instructed to separate them and prepare a special report for the First Consul, so their prior publication could sway public opinion and turn it against those who were destined to be sacrificed. The directives Drake gave to his agents leave no doubt that England aimed to bring down Bonaparte's Government. Drake wrote the following to a person assigned to travel through France:—






   The principal object of your journey being the overthrow of the
   existing Government, one of the means of effecting it is to acquire
   a knowledge of the enemy's plans. For this purpose it is of the
   highest importance to begin, in the first place, by establishing
   communications with persons who may be depended upon in the
   different Government offices in order to obtain exact information of
   all plans with respect to foreign or internal affairs. The
   knowledge of these plans will supply the best means of defeating
   them; and failure is the way to bring the Government into complete
   discredit—the first and most important step towards the end
   proposed. Try to gain over trustworthy agents in the different
   Government departments. Endeavour, also, to learn what passes in
   the secret committee, which is supposed to be established at St
   Cloud, and composed of the friends of the First Consul. Be careful
   to furnish information of the various projects which Bonaparte may
   entertain relative to Turkey and Ireland. Likewise send
   intelligence respecting the movements of troops, respecting vessels
   and ship-building, and all military preparations.

The main goal of your mission is to overthrow the current Government, and one of the ways to achieve this is by understanding the enemy's plans. To do this effectively, it's crucial to start by building connections with reliable people in different Government offices to get accurate information on all strategies related to foreign or domestic issues. Knowing these plans will provide the best way to counter them, and failure is how to bring the Government into total disrepute—the first and most important step towards achieving your goal. Try to win over trustworthy contacts in the various Government departments. Also, make an effort to find out what’s happening in the secret committee, which is believed to be set up at St. Cloud and made up of the First Consul's allies. Be sure to gather information on the different projects that Bonaparte might consider regarding Turkey and Ireland. Additionally, report on troop movements, ship activities, and all military preparations.







      Drake, in his instructions, also recommended that the subversion of
      Bonaparte's Government should, for the time, be the only object in view,
      and that nothing should be said about the King's intentions until certain
      information could be obtained respecting his views; but most of his
      letters and instructions were anterior to 1804. The whole bearing of the
      seized documents proved what Bonaparte could not be ignorant of, namely,
      that England was his constant enemy; but after examining them, I was of
      opinion that they contained nothing which could justify the belief that
      the Government of Great Britain authorised any attempt at assassination.
    
Drake, in his instructions, also suggested that undermining Bonaparte's government should be the main focus for now, and that nothing should be said about the King's intentions until we could gather more information regarding his plans. However, most of his letters and instructions were from before 1804. The overall content of the seized documents indicated that Bonaparte must have known that England was his ongoing adversary; but after reviewing them, I concluded that they contained no evidence to support the idea that the government of Great Britain endorsed any assassination attempts.







      When the First Consul received the report of the Grand Judge relative to
      Drake's plots' against his Government he transmitted a copy of it to the
      Senate, and it was in reply to this communication that the Senate made
      those first overtures which Bonaparte thought vague, but which,
      nevertheless, led to the formation of the Empire. Notwithstanding this
      important circumstance, I have not hitherto mentioned Drake, because his
      intrigues for Bonaparte's overthrow appeared to me to be more immediately
      connected with the preliminaries of the trial of Georges and Moreau, which
      I shall notice in my next chapter.
    
When the First Consul got the report from the Grand Judge about Drake's plots against his government, he sent a copy to the Senate. In response to this communication, the Senate made those initial overtures that Bonaparte found vague, but that ultimately led to the formation of the Empire. Despite this significant detail, I haven't mentioned Drake until now because his schemes to overthrow Bonaparte seemed more directly related to the initial proceedings of the trial for Georges and Moreau, which I will discuss in my next chapter.






 —[These were not plots for assassination. Bonaparte, in the same
   way, had his secret agents in every country of Europe, without
   excepting England. Alison (chap. xxxvii. par. 89) says on this
   matter of Drake that, though the English agents were certainly
   attempting a counter-revolution, they had no idea of encouraging the
   assassination of Napoleon, while "England was no match for the
   French police agents in a transaction of this description, for the
   publication of Regular revealed the mortifying fact that the whole
   correspondence both of Drake and Spencer Smith had been regularly
   transmitted, as fast as it took place, to the police of Paris, and
   that their principal corresponded in that city, M. Mehu de la
   Tonche, was himself an agent of the police, employed to tempt the
   British envoys into this perilous enterprise."]— 
 —[These were not plots to assassinate anyone. Bonaparte also had his secret agents in every country in Europe, including England. Alison (chap. xxxvii. par. 89) notes that, regarding Drake, while the English agents were indeed trying to instigate a counter-revolution, they had no intention of promoting the assassination of Napoleon. He added that “England was no match for the French police agents in such an operation, as the publication of Regular disclosed the embarrassing truth that all the correspondence of both Drake and Spencer Smith was consistently sent, as it happened, to the Paris police, and that their main contact in that city, M. Mehu de la Tonche, was himself a police agent, tasked with luring the British envoys into this dangerous scheme.”]— 







      At the same time that Bonaparte communicated to the Senate the report of
      the Grand Judge, the Minister for Foreign Affairs addressed the following
      circular letter to the members of the Diplomatic Body:
    
At the same time that Bonaparte shared the report from the Grand Judge with the Senate, the Minister for Foreign Affairs sent the following circular letter to the members of the Diplomatic Body:






   The First Consul has commanded me to forward to your Excellency a
   copy of a report which has been presented to him, respecting a
   conspiracy formed in France by Mr. Drake, his Britannic Majesty's
   Minister at the Court of Munich, which, by its object as well as its
   date, is evidently connected with the infamous plot now in the
   course of investigation.

   The printed copy of Mr. Drake's letters and authentic documents is
   annexed to the report. The originals will be immediately sent, by
   order of the First Consul, to the Elector of Bavaria.

   Such a prostitution of the most honourable function which can be
   intrusted to a man is unexampled in the history of civilised
   nations. It will astonish and afflict Europe as an unheard of
   crime, which hitherto the most perverse Governments have not dared
   to meditate. The First Consul is too well acquainted with
   sentiments of the Diplomatic Body accredited to him not to be fully
   convinced that every one of its members will behold, with profound
   regret, the profanation of the sacred character of Ambassador,
   basely transformed into a minister of plots, snares, and corruption.

The First Consul has instructed me to send you a copy of a report that has been presented to him regarding a conspiracy in France orchestrated by Mr. Drake, the British Minister at the Court of Munich. This conspiracy, based on its purpose and timing, is clearly linked to the notorious plot currently under investigation.

The printed copy of Mr. Drake's letters and official documents is attached to the report. The originals will be sent immediately, as ordered by the First Consul, to the Elector of Bavaria.

Such a misuse of the most honorable role entrusted to a person is unprecedented in the history of civilized nations. It will shock and disturb Europe as an unheard-of crime that even the most corrupt governments have not dared to consider. The First Consul understands the sentiments of the diplomatic community accredited to him and is fully convinced that every member will regard, with deep sorrow, the violation of the sacred role of an ambassador, shamefully reduced to a minister of plots, schemes, and corruption.







      All the ambassadors, ministers, plenipotentiaries, envoys, ordinary or
      extraordinary, whatever might be their denomination, addressed answers to
      the Minister for Foreign Affairs, in which they expressed horror and
      indignation at the conduct of England and Drake's machinations. These
      answers were returned only five days after the Duc d'Enghien's death; and
      here one cannot help admiring the adroitness of Bonaparte, who thus
      compelled all the representatives of the European Governments to give
      official testimonies of regard for his person and Government.
    
All the ambassadors, ministers, representatives, and envoys, whether regular or special, whatever their titles, sent responses to the Minister for Foreign Affairs, expressing shock and anger at England's actions and Drake's schemes. These responses were returned just five days after the Duc d'Enghien's death; and one can't help but admire Bonaparte's cleverness, as he managed to make all the representatives of European Governments officially demonstrate their respect for him and his administration.








 


 




















      CHAPTER XXVI.
    



      1804.
    
1804.


   Trial of Moreau, Georges, and others—Public interest excited by
   Moreau—Arraignment of the prisoners—Moreau's letter to Bonaparte—
   Violence of the President of the Court towards the prisoners—
   Lajolais and Rolland—Examinations intended to criminate Moreau—
   Remarkable observations—Speech written by M. Garat—Bonaparte's
   opinion of Garat's eloquence—General Lecourbe and Moreau's son—
   Respect shown to Moreau by the military—Different sentiments
   excited by Georges and Moreau—Thoriot and 'Tui-roi'—Georges'
   answers to the interrogatories—He refuses an offer of pardon—
   Coster St. Victor—Napoleon and an actress—Captain Wright—
   M. de Riviere and the medal of the Comte d'Artois—Generous struggle
   between MM. de Polignac—Sentence on the prisoners—Bonaparte's
   remark—Pardons and executions.

   Trial of Moreau, Georges, and others—Public interest stirred by
   Moreau—Arraignment of the prisoners—Moreau's letter to Bonaparte—
   Aggression of the President of the Court towards the prisoners—
   Lajolais and Rolland—Examinations aimed at incriminating Moreau—
   Notable remarks—Speech written by M. Garat—Bonaparte's
   view of Garat's eloquence—General Lecourbe and Moreau's son—
   Respect shown to Moreau by the military—Different feelings
   stirred by Georges and Moreau—Thoriot and 'Tui-roi'—Georges'
   responses to the interrogations—He declines an offer of pardon—
   Coster St. Victor—Napoleon and an actress—Captain Wright—
   M. de Riviere and the medal of the Comte d'Artois—Noble struggle
   between MM. de Polignac—Sentence on the prisoners—Bonaparte's
   comment—Pardons and executions.







      On the 28th of May, about ten days after Napoleon had been declared
      Emperor, the trials of Moreau and others commenced. No similar event that
      has since occurred can convey an idea of the fermentation which then
      prevailed in Paris. The indignation excited by Moreau's arrest was openly
      manifested, and braved the observation of the police. Endeavours had been
      successfully made to mislead public opinion with respect to Georges and
      some others among the accused, who were looked upon as assassins in the
      pay of England, at least by that numerous portion of the public who lent
      implicit faith to declarations presented to them as official. But the case
      was different with regard to those individuals who were particularly the
      objects of public interest,—viz. MM. de Polignac, de Riviere,
      Charles d'Hozier, and, above all, Moreau. The name of Moreau towered above
      all the rest, and with respect to him the Government found itself not a
      little perplexed. It was necessary on the one hand to surround him with a
      guard sufficiently imposing, to repress the eagerness of the people and of
      his friends, and yet on the other hand care was required that this guard
      should not be so strong as to admit of the possibility of making it a
      rallying-point, should the voice of a chief so honoured by the army appeal
      to it for defence. A rising of the populace in favour of Moreau was
      considered as a very possible event,—some hoped for it, others
      dreaded it. When I reflect on the state of feeling which then prevailed, I
      am certain that a movement in his favour would infallibly have taken place
      had judges more complying than even those who presided at the trial
      condemned Moreau to capital punishment.
    
On May 28th, about ten days after Napoleon was declared Emperor, the trials of Moreau and others began. No event since then can capture the turmoil that was happening in Paris at that time. The outrage sparked by Moreau's arrest was openly displayed, and the police could not ignore it. Attempts were made to sway public opinion about Georges and some of the others accused, who were seen as assassins working for England, at least by many who uncritically accepted the official narrative. But things were different for those who were the focus of public attention—namely, MM. de Polignac, de Riviere, Charles d'Hozier, and especially Moreau. Moreau's name stood above all the others, and the Government found itself in a tricky situation regarding him. They needed to place a guard around him strong enough to calm the crowds and his supporters, but not so strong that it could become a rallying point if a leader so respected by the army called for protection. A public uprising in favor of Moreau was seen as very likely—some people hoped for it, while others feared it. Looking back at the emotions of the time, I'm certain that a movement supporting him would have definitely happened if judges more lenient than those presiding over the trial had sentenced Moreau to death.







      It is impossible to form an idea of the crowd that choked up the avenues
      of the Palace of Justice on the day the trials commenced. This crowd
      continued during the twelve days the proceedings lasted, and was
      exceedingly great on the day the sentence was pronounced. Persons of the
      highest class were anxious to be present.
    
It’s hard to describe the crowd that packed the streets outside the Palace of Justice when the trials started. This crowd stayed there for the twelve days of the proceedings and was especially large on the day the verdict was announced. People from the highest society were eager to be there.







      I was one of the first in the Hall, being determined to watch the course
      of these solemn proceedings. The Court being assembled, the President
      ordered the prisoners to be brought in. They entered in a file, and ranged
      themselves on the benches each between two gendarmes. They appeared
      composed and collected, and resignation was depicted on the countenances
      of all except Bouvet de Lozier, who did not dare to raise his eyes to his
      companions in misfortune, whom his weakness, rather than his will, had
      betrayed. I did not recognise him until the President proceeded to call
      over the prisoners, and to put the usual questions respecting their names,
      professions, and places of abode. Of the forty-nine prisoners, among whom
      were several females, only two were personally known to me; namely,
      Moreau, whose presence on the prisoner's bench seemed to wring every
      heart, and Georges, whom I had seen at the Tuileries in the First Consul's
      cabinet.
    
I was one of the first in the Hall, eager to witness these serious proceedings. Once the Court was assembled, the President ordered the prisoners to be brought in. They walked in a line and took their places on the benches, each flanked by two gendarmes. They seemed calm and composed, with resignation visible on the faces of all except Bouvet de Lozier, who didn't have the courage to look at his fellow prisoners, having been betrayed by his weakness rather than his will. I didn’t recognize him until the President started calling out the prisoners' names and asking the usual questions about their names, professions, and addresses. Of the forty-nine prisoners, which included several women, I personally knew only two: Moreau, whose presence on the prisoner’s bench seemed to break every heart, and Georges, whom I had seen at the Tuileries in the First Consul's cabinet.







      The first sitting of the Court was occupied with the reading of the act of
      accusation or indictment, and the voices of the ushers, commanding
      silence, could scarce suppress the buzz which pervaded the Court at the
      mention of Moreau's name. All eyes were turned towards the conqueror of
      Hohenlinden, and while the Procureur Imperial read over the long
      indictment and invoked the vengeance of the law on an attempt against the
      head of the Republic, it was easy to perceive how he tortured his
      ingenuity to fasten apparent guilt on the laurels of Moreau. The good
      sense of the public discerned proofs of his innocence in the very
      circumstances brought forward against him. I shall never forget the effect
      produced—so contrary to what was anticipated by the prosecutors—by
      the reading of a letter addressed by Moreau from his prison in the Temple
      to the First Consul, when the judges appointed to interrogate him sought
      to make his past conduct the subject of accusation, on account of M. de
      Klinglin's papers having fallen into his hands. He was reproached with
      having too long delayed transmitting these documents to the Directory; and
      it was curious to see the Emperor Napoleon become the avenger of pretended
      offences committed against the Directory which he had overthrown.
    
The first session of the Court began with the reading of the accusation or indictment, and despite the ushers commanding silence, the buzz in the courtroom grew louder at the mention of Moreau's name. Everyone focused on the victor of Hohenlinden, and as the Procureur Imperial read through the lengthy indictment, calling for the law’s vengeance over an attack on the head of the Republic, it was clear he struggled to pin any real guilt on Moreau’s achievements. The public's common sense recognized evidence of his innocence in the very circumstances presented against him. I will always remember the unexpected impact—so contrary to what the prosecutors anticipated—of reading a letter Moreau had sent from his prison in the Temple to the First Consul, when the judges questioning him attempted to use his past actions as an accusation because M. de Klinglin's documents had come into his possession. He was criticized for taking too long to send these documents to the Directory; it was ironic to see Emperor Napoleon acting as the avenger of alleged offenses against the Directory he had already overthrown.







      In the letter here alluded to Moreau said to Bonaparte, then First Consul—
    
In the letter mentioned here, Moreau told Bonaparte, who was then the First Consul—






   "In the short campaign of the year V. (from the 20th to the 23d of
   March 1797) we took the papers belonging to the staff of the enemy's
   army, and a number of documents were brought to me which General
   Desaix, then wounded, amused himself by perusing. It appeared from
   this correspondence that General Pichegru had maintained
   communications with the French Princes. This discovery was very
   painful, and particularly to me, and we agreed to say nothing of the
   matter. Pichegru, as a member of the Legislative Body, could do but
   little to injure the public cause, since peace was established. I
   nevertheless took every precaution for protecting the army against
   the ill effects of a system of espionage. . . . The events of
   the 18th Fructidor occasioned so much anxiety that two officers, who
   knew of the existence of the correspondence, prevailed on me to
   communicate it to the Government. . . . I felt that, as a
   public functionary, I could no longer remain silent. . . .
   During the two last campaigns in Germany, and since the peace,
   distant overtures have been made to me, with the view of drawing me
   into connection with the French Princes. This appeared so absurd
   that I took no notice of these overtures. As to the present
   conspiracy, I can assure you I have been far from taking any share
   in it. I repeat to you, General, that whatever proposition to that
   effect was made me, I rejected it, and regarded it as the height of
   madness. When it was represented to me that the invasion of England
   would offer a favourable opportunity for effecting a change in the
   French Government, I invariably answered that the Senate was the
   authority to which the whole of France would naturally cling in the
   time of trouble, and that I would be the first to place myself under
   its orders. To such overtures made to a private individual, who
   wished to preserve no connection either with the army, of whom
   nine-tenths have served under me, or any constituted authority, the
   only possible answer was a refusal. Betrayal of confidence I
   disdained. Such a step, which is always base, becomes doubly odious
   when the treachery is committed against those to whom we owe
   gratitude, or have been bound by old friendship.

   "This, General, is all I have to tell you respecting my relations
   with Pichegru, and it must convince you that very false and hasty
   inferences have been drawn from conduct which, though perhaps
   imprudent, was far from being criminal."

   "During the brief campaign in year V (from March 20th to 23rd, 1797), we seized the documents from the enemy's army staff, and several papers were brought to me that General Desaix, who was wounded at the time, entertained himself by reading. It became clear from this correspondence that General Pichegru had been in contact with the French Princes. This revelation was particularly distressing for me, and we agreed to keep it to ourselves. Pichegru, as a member of the Legislative Body, had limited power to harm the public cause since peace had been established. Still, I took every precaution to protect the army against the negative effects of spying. The events of the 18th of Fructidor caused so much worry that two officers, who were aware of the correspondence, urged me to inform the Government. I realized that, as a public official, I could no longer stay silent. During the last two campaigns in Germany, and since the peace, I received distant proposals aimed at connecting me with the French Princes. This seemed so ridiculous that I ignored those approaches. As for the current conspiracy, I assure you I have had no part in it. I repeat, General, that any proposition made to me in that regard was rejected, as I saw it as nothing short of madness. When it was suggested that invading England would provide a good chance to change the French Government, I consistently stated that the Senate was the authority to which all of France would naturally turn in times of trouble, and that I would be the first to put myself under its orders. To such offers made to a private individual who wanted to maintain no connection with the army, of which nine-tenths served under me, or any established authority, the only appropriate response was a refusal. I scorned betrayal of trust. Such an act, which is always despicable, becomes even more reprehensible when the treachery is directed at those to whom we owe gratitude or have longstanding friendships.

   "This, General, is all I have to say regarding my relationship with Pichegru, and it should convince you that very incorrect and hasty conclusions have been drawn from actions that, although perhaps imprudent, were far from criminal."







      Moreau fulfilled his duty as a public functionary by communicating to the
      Directory the papers which unfolded a plot against the Government, and
      which the chances of war had thrown into his hands. He fulfilled his duty
      as a man of honour by not voluntarily incurring the infamy which can never
      be wiped from the character of an informer. Bonaparte in Moreau's
      situation would have acted the same part, for I never knew a man express
      stronger indignation than himself against informers, until he began to
      consider everything a virtue which served his ambition, and everything a
      crime which opposed it.
    
Moreau did his job as a public official by sharing with the Directory the documents that revealed a conspiracy against the government, which chance had given him access to because of the war. He upheld his integrity by avoiding the disgrace that follows an informer. In Moreau's position, Bonaparte would have acted similarly, as I have never seen anyone express stronger outrage toward informers than he did—until he began to view everything that aided his ambition as virtuous and everything that stood in the way of it as a crime.







      The two facts which most forcibly obtruded themselves on my attention
      during the trial were the inveterate violence of the President of the
      Court towards the prisoners and the innocence of Moreau.
    
The two facts that stood out to me the most during the trial were the constant aggression of the Court's President towards the prisoners and Moreau's innocence.






 —[It is strange that Bourrienne does not acknowledge that he was
   charged by Napoleon with the duty of attending this trial of Moreau,
   and of sending in a daily report of the proceedings.]— 
 —[It's odd that Bourrienne doesn’t recognize that Napoleon assigned him the task of attending Moreau's trial and sending a daily report on what happened.]—







      But, in spite of the most insidious examinations which can be conceived,
      Moreau never once fell into the least contradiction. If my memory fail me
      not, it was on the fourth day that he was examined by Thuriot, one of the
      judges. The result, clear as day to all present, was, that Moreau was a
      total stranger to all the plots, all the intrigues which had been set on
      foot in London. In fact, during the whole course of the trial, to which I
      listened with as much attention as interest, I did not discover the shadow
      of a circumstance which could in the least commit him, or which had the
      least reference to him. Scarcely one of the hundred and thirty-nine
      witnesses who were heard for the prosecution knew him, and he himself
      declared on the fourth sitting, which took place on the 31st of May, that
      there was not an individual among the accused whom he knew,—not one
      whom he had ever seen. In the course of the long proceedings,
      notwithstanding the manifest efforts of Thuriot to extort false admissions
      and force contradictions, no fact of any consequence was elicited to the
      prejudice of Moreau. His appearance was as calm as his conscience; and as
      he sat on the bench he had the appearance of one led by curiosity to be
      present at this interesting trial, rather than of an accused person, to
      whom the proceedings might end in condemnation and death. But for the fall
      of Moreau in the ranks of the enemy,—but for the foreign cockade
      which disgraced the cap of the conqueror of Hohenlinden, his complete
      innocence would long since have been put beyond doubt, and it would have
      been acknowledged that the most infamous machinations were employed for
      his destruction. It is evident that Lajolais, who had passed from London
      to Paris, and from Paris to London, had been acting the part of an
      intriguer rather than of a conspirator; and that the object of his
      missions was not so much to reconcile Moreau and Pichegru as to make
      Pichegru the instrument of implicating Moreau. Those who supposed Lajolais
      to be in the pay of the British Government were egregiously imposed on.
      Lajolais was only in the pay of the secret police; he was condemned to
      death, as was expected, but he received his pardon, as was agreed upon.
      Here was one of the disclosures which Pichegru might have made; hence the
      necessity of getting him out of the way before the trial. As to the
      evidence of the man named Rolland, it was clear to everybody that Moreau
      was right when he said to the President, "In my opinion, Rolland is either
      a creature of the police, or he has given his evidence under the influence
      of fear." Rolland made two declarations the first contained nothing at
      all; the second was in answer to the following observations: "You see you
      stand in a terrible situation; you must either be held to be an accomplice
      in the conspiracy, or you must be taken as evidence. If you say nothing,
      you will be considered in the light of an accomplice; if you confess, you
      will be saved." This single circumstance may serve to give an idea of the
      way the trials were conducted so as to criminate Moreau. On his part the
      general repelled the attacks, of which he was the object, with calm
      composure and modest confidence, though flashes of just indignation would
      occasionally burst from him. I recollect the effect he produced upon the
      Court and the auditors at one of the sittings, when the President had
      accused him of the design of making himself Dictator. He exclaimed, "I
      Dictator! What, make myself Dictator at the head of the partisans of the
      Bourbons! Point out my partisans! My partisans would naturally be the
      soldiers of France, of whom I have commanded nine-tenths, and saved more
      than fifty thousand. These are the partisans I should look to! All my
      aides de camp, all the officers of my acquaintance, have been arrested;
      not the shadow of a suspicion could be found against any of them, and they
      have been set at liberty. Why, then, attribute to me the madness of aiming
      to get myself made Dictator by the aid of the adherents of the old French
      Princes, of persons who have fought in their cause since 1792? You allege
      that these men, in the space of four-and-twenty hours, formed the project
      of raising me to the Dictatorship! It is madness to think of it! My
      fortune and my pay have been alluded to; I began the world with nothing; I
      might have had by this time fifty millions; I have merely a house and a
      bit of ground; as to my pay, it is forty thousand francs. Surely that sum
      will not be compared with my services."
    
But despite the most insidious examinations imaginable, Moreau never once contradicted himself. If I remember correctly, it was on the fourth day that he was examined by Thuriot, one of the judges. The outcome, clear as day to everyone there, was that Moreau had no connection to any of the plots or intrigues that had been initiated in London. In fact, throughout the entire trial, which I followed with keen attention and interest, I did not find a single circumstance that could implicate him or was even related to him. Almost none of the 139 witnesses called for the prosecution knew him, and he himself stated during the fourth session, which took place on May 31, that he did not know any of the accused—not one he had ever seen. Throughout the lengthy proceedings, despite Thuriot’s obvious efforts to extract false confessions and force contradictions, no significant fact was brought to light against Moreau. His demeanor was as calm as his conscience; as he sat on the bench, he looked more like someone curious to observe this fascinating trial rather than an accused person facing potential condemnation and death. If not for Moreau's fall from grace and the foreign cockade tarnishing the cap of the conqueror of Hohenlinden, his complete innocence would have long been established, and it would have been recognized that the most nefarious schemes were crafted for his downfall. It’s clear that Lajolais, who traveled back and forth between London and Paris, was playing the role of an intriguer rather than a conspirator; his goal was less about reconciling Moreau and Pichegru and more about using Pichegru to implicate Moreau. Those who thought Lajolais was being funded by the British Government were sorely mistaken. Lajolais was only on the payroll of the secret police; he was sentenced to death, as expected, but he received his pardon, as arranged. This was one of the revelations Pichegru could have made, hence the urgency to eliminate him before the trial. Regarding the testimony of a man named Rolland, it was evident to everyone that Moreau was right when he told the President, "In my opinion, Rolland is either a pawn of the police or has given his testimony out of fear." Rolland made two statements; the first provided no information at all, while the second was in response to the following remarks: "You see, you're in a terrible situation; you must either be seen as an accomplice in the conspiracy or as a witness. If you say nothing, you'll be considered an accomplice; if you confess, you'll be spared." This single detail illustrates how the trials were conducted to incriminate Moreau. On his part, the general repelled the attacks aimed at him with calm composure and quiet confidence, although flashes of rightful indignation occasionally emerged. I remember the impact he had on the Court and the audience during one session when the President accused him of trying to make himself Dictator. He exclaimed, "Me, Dictator! You think I would make myself Dictator with the support of the Bourbons' partisans? Name my supporters! My supporters would naturally be the soldiers of France, of whom I have commanded nine-tenths and saved over fifty thousand. These are the people I would rely on! All my aides-de-camp, all the officers I know, have been arrested; not a single shadow of suspicion has been found against them, and they’ve been freed. So why suggest I'm foolish enough to try to become Dictator with the support of those loyal to the old French Princes, those who have fought for them since 1792? You claim that these men, in just twenty-four hours, came up with the idea of elevating me to the Dictatorship! It’s madness to consider! My fortune and my salary have been mentioned; I started with nothing; by now, I could have had fifty million; I have only a house and a bit of land; as for my salary, it’s forty thousand francs. Surely you can’t compare that to my services."







      During the trial Moreau delivered a defence, which I knew had been written
      by his friend Garat, whose eloquence I well remember was always disliked
      by Bonaparte. Of this I had a proof on the occasion of a grand ceremony
      which took place in the Place des Victoires, on laying the first stone of
      a monument which was to have been erected to the memory of Desaix, but
      which was never executed. The First Consul returned home in very
      ill-humour, and said to me, "Bourrienne, what a brute that Garat is! What
      a stringer of words! I have been obliged to listen to him for
      three-quarters of an hour. There are people who never know when to hold
      their tongues!"
    
During the trial, Moreau gave a defense that I knew had been written by his friend Garat, whose eloquence I remembered Bonaparte always disliked. I had proof of this during a big ceremony in the Place des Victoires, where they were laying the first stone of a monument meant to honor Desaix, which was never actually built. The First Consul came home in a really bad mood and said to me, "Bourrienne, what a jerk that Garat is! What a rambling fool! I had to listen to him for three-quarters of an hour. Some people just don’t know when to shut up!"







      Whatever might be the character of Garat's eloquence or Bonaparte's
      opinion of it, his conduct was noble on the occasion of Moreau's trial;
      for he might be sure Bonaparte would bear him a grudge for lending the aid
      of his pen to the only man whose military glory, though not equal to that
      of the First Consul, might entitle him to be looked upon as his rival in
      fame. At one of the sittings a circumstance occurred which produced an
      almost electrical effect. I think I still see General Lecourbe, the worthy
      friend of Moreau, entering unexpectedly into the Court, leading a little
      boy. Raising the child in his arms, he exclaimed aloud, and with
      considerable emotion, "Soldiers, behold the son of your general!"
    
No matter what Garat's eloquence was like or what Bonaparte thought of it, his actions during Moreau's trial were honorable; he knew Bonaparte would hold a grudge against him for supporting the only man whose military achievements, while not as great as the First Consul's, could qualify him as a rival in fame. During one of the sessions, something happened that had an almost electric impact. I can still picture General Lecourbe, Moreau's loyal friend, unexpectedly entering the courtroom, carrying a little boy. Lifting the child in his arms, he exclaimed loudly and with deep emotion, "Soldiers, look at your general's son!"






 —[This action of Lecourbe, together with the part played in this
   trial by his brother, one of the judges, was most unfortunate, not
   only for Lecourbe but for France, which consequently lost the
   services of its best general of mountain warfare. His campaigns of
   Switzerland in 1799 on the St. Gothard against Suwarrow are well
   known. Naturally disgraced for the part he took with Moreau, he was
   not again employed till the Cent Jours, when he did good service,
   although he had disapproved of the defection of Ney from the
   Royalist cause. He died in 1816; his brother, the judge, had a most
   furious reception from Napoleon, who called him a prevaricating
   judge, and dismissed him from his office (Rémusat, tome ii. p.
   8).]— 
 [Lecourbe's actions, along with his brother's role as one of the judges in this trial, were very unfortunate, not just for Lecourbe but also for France, which ended up losing the services of its best general in mountain warfare. His campaigns in Switzerland in 1799 at St. Gothard against Suwarrow are well documented. Naturally disgraced for his involvement with Moreau, he wasn’t employed again until the Cent Jours, where he performed well, even though he disagreed with Ney’s defection from the Royalist cause. He passed away in 1816; his brother, the judge, faced a furious backlash from Napoleon, who called him a deceitful judge and removed him from his position (Rémusat, tome ii. p. 8).] 







      At this unexpected movement all the military present spontaneously rose
      and presented arms; while a murmur of approbation from the spectators
      applauded the act. It is certain that had Moreau at that moment said but
      one word, such was the enthusiasm in his favour, the tribunal would have
      been broken up and the prisoners liberated. Moreau, however, was silent,
      and indeed appeared the only unconcerned person in Court. Throughout the
      whole course of the trial Moreau inspired so much respect that when he was
      asked a question and rose to reply the gendarmes appointed to guard him
      rose at the same time and stood uncovered while he spoke.
    
At this unexpected move, all the military present instantly stood up and saluted, while the spectators murmured their approval of the act. It's clear that if Moreau had spoken even a single word at that moment, the enthusiasm for him would have led the tribunal to break up and the prisoners to be released. However, Moreau remained silent and seemed to be the only one in the courtroom who was unfazed. Throughout the entire trial, Moreau commanded such respect that whenever he was asked a question and stood up to respond, the guards assigned to watch him also stood up and removed their hats while he spoke.







      Georges was far from exciting the interest inspired by Moreau. He was an
      object of curiosity rather than of interest. The difference of their
      previous conduct was in itself sufficient to occasion a great contrast in
      their situation before the Court. Moreau was full of confidence and
      Georges full of resignation. The latter regarded his fate with a fierce
      kind of resolution. He occasionally resumed the caustic tone which he
      seemed to have renounced when he harangued his associates before their
      departure from the Temple. With the most sarcastic bitterness he alluded
      to the name and vote of Thuriot, one of the most violent of the judges,
      often terming him 'Tue-roi';
    
Georges didn't generate the same level of interest as Moreau. He was more of a curiosity than anything else. The difference in their previous behavior created a striking contrast in how they were perceived by the Court. Moreau was brimming with confidence, while Georges was filled with resignation. The latter faced his fate with a fierce kind of determination. Occasionally, he would revert to the sharp tone he seemed to have dropped when he spoke to his peers before leaving the Temple. With the most sarcastic bitterness, he referenced the name and vote of Thuriot, one of the most extreme judges, often calling him 'Tue-roi';






 —[Thuriot and the President Hemart both voted for the death of the
   King. Merlin, the imperial Procureur-General, was one of the
   regicides.—Bourrienne.]— 
—[Thuriot and President Hemart both voted for the King's death. Merlin, the imperial Procureur-General, was one of the assassins of the King.—Bourrienne.]—







      and after pronouncing his name, or being forced to reply to his
      interrogatories, he would ask for a glass of brandy to wash his mouth.
    
and after saying his name, or being made to answer his questions, he would ask for a glass of brandy to cleanse his palate.







      Georges had the manners and bearing of a rude soldier; but under his
      coarse exterior he concealed the soul of a hero. When the witnesses of his
      arrest had answered the questions of the President Hemart, this judge
      turned towards the accused, and inquired whether he had anything to say in
      reply.—"No."—"Do you admit the facts?"—"Yes." Here
      Georges busied himself in looking over the papers which lay before him,
      when Hemart warned him to desist, and attend to the questions. The
      following dialogue then commenced. "Do you confess having been arrested in
      the place designated by the witness?"—"I do not know the name of the
      place."—"Do you confess having been arrested?"—"Yes."—"Did
      you twice fire a pistol?"—"Yes."—"Did you kill a man?"—"Indeed
      I do not know."— "Had you a poniard?"—"Yes."—"And two
      pistols?"—"Yes."—"Who was in company with you?"—"I do
      not know the person."—"Where did you lodge in Paris?"—"Nowhere."—"At
      the time of your arrest did you not reside in the house of a fruiterer in
      the Rue de la Montagne St. Genevieve?"— "At the time of my arrest I
      was in a cabriolet. I lodged nowhere."— "Where did you sleep on the
      evening of your arrest?"—"Nowhere."—"What were you doing in
      Paris?"—"I was walking about."—"Whom have you seen in Paris?"—"I
      shall name no one; I know no one."
    
Georges had the demeanor and attitude of a rude soldier, but beneath his rough exterior, he hid the spirit of a hero. When the witnesses of his arrest had answered President Hemart's questions, this judge turned to the accused and asked if he had anything to say in response. —"No." —"Do you admit the facts?" —"Yes." Georges then started looking over the papers in front of him, but Hemart told him to stop and focus on the questions. The following dialogue began: "Do you admit you were arrested at the location specified by the witness?" —"I don’t know the name of the place." —"Do you admit you were arrested?" —"Yes." —"Did you fire a pistol twice?" —"Yes." —"Did you kill a man?" —"Honestly, I don’t know." —"Did you have a dagger?" —"Yes." —"And two pistols?" —"Yes." —"Who was with you?" —"I don’t know that person." —"Where did you stay in Paris?" —"Nowhere." —"At the time of your arrest, did you not live at the residence of a fruit seller on Rue de la Montagne St. Genevieve?" —"At the time of my arrest, I was in a cab. I didn’t stay anywhere." —"Where did you sleep on the night of your arrest?" —"Nowhere." —"What were you doing in Paris?" —"I was just walking around." —"Who have you seen in Paris?" —"I won’t name anyone; I don’t know anyone."







      From this short specimen of the manner in which Georges replied to the
      questions of the President we may judge of his unshaken firmness during
      the proceedings. In all that concerned himself he was perfectly open; but
      in regard to whatever tended to endanger his associates he maintained the
      most obstinate silence, notwithstanding every attempt to overcome his
      firmness.
    
From this brief example of how Georges answered the President's questions, we can see his unwavering strength throughout the proceedings. He was completely honest about himself, but when it came to anything that could threaten his partners, he held his ground and refused to speak, despite all efforts to break his resolve.







      That I was not the only one who justly appreciated the noble character of
      Georges is rendered evident by the following circumstance. Having
      accompanied M. Carbonnet to the police, where he went to demand his
      papers, on the day of his removal to St. Pelagic, we were obliged to await
      the return of M. Real, who was absent. M. Desmarets and several other
      persons were also in attendance. M. Real had been at the Conciergerie,
      where he had seen Georges Cadoudal, and on his entrance observed to M.
      Desmarets and the others, sufficiently loud to be distinctly heard by M.
      Carbonnet and myself, "I have had an interview with Georges who is an
      extraordinary man. I told him that I was disposed to offer him a pardon if
      he would promise to renounce the conspiracy and accept of employment under
      Government. But to my arguments and persuasions he only replied, 'My
      comrades followed me to France, and I shall follow them, to death.'" In
      this he kept his word.
    
That I wasn't the only one who truly recognized Georges's noble character became clear during a certain incident. After accompanying M. Carbonnet to the police to collect his papers on the day he was taken to St. Pelagic, we had to wait for M. Real to return, as he was out at the time. M. Desmarets and a few others were also there. M. Real had just come from the Conciergerie, where he met Georges Cadoudal. Upon entering, he said to M. Desmarets and the others, loud enough for M. Carbonnet and me to hear, "I’ve spoken with Georges, who is an incredible man. I told him I was willing to offer him a pardon if he promised to give up the conspiracy and work for the Government. But in response to my arguments and persuasion, he simply said, ‘My comrades came to France with me, and I will follow them to death.’” He stayed true to his word.







      Were we to judge these memorable proceedings from the official documents
      published in the Moniteur and other journals of that period, we should
      form a very erroneous opinion. Those falsities were even the object of a
      very serious complaint on the part of Cosier St. Victor, one of the
      accused.
    
If we were to evaluate these significant events based on the official documents published in the Moniteur and other journals from that time, we would come to a very mistaken conclusion. These inaccuracies were even the subject of a serious complaint by Cosier St. Victor, one of the accused.







      After the speech of M. Gauthier, the advocate of Coster St. Victor, the
      President inquired of the accused whether he had anything further to say
      in his defence, to which he replied, "I have only to add that the
      witnesses necessary to my exculpation have not yet appeared. I must
      besides express my surprise at the means which have been employed to lead
      astray public opinion, and to load with infamy not only the accused but
      also their intrepid defenders. I have read with pain in the journals of
      to-day that the proceedings—" Here the President interrupting,
      observed that "these were circumstances foreign to the case."—"Not
      in the least," replied Cosier St. Victor; "on the contrary, they bear very
      materially on the cause, since mangling and misrepresenting our defence is
      a practice assuredly calculated to ruin us in the estimation of the
      public. In the journals of to-day the speech of M. Gauthier is shamefully
      garbled, and I should be deficient in gratitude were I not here to bear
      testimony to the zeal and courage which he has displayed in my defence. I
      protest against the puerilities and absurdities which have been put into
      his mouth, and I entreat him not to relax in his generous efforts. It is
      not on his account that I make this observation; he does not require it at
      my hands; it is for 'myself, it is for the accused, whom such arts tend to
      injure in the estimation of the public."
    
After M. Gauthier, Coster St. Victor's lawyer, finished speaking, the President asked the accused if he wanted to add anything to his defense. He replied, "I just want to say that the witnesses who could clear my name haven't shown up yet. I also want to express my surprise at how public opinion has been misled, and how it's not just the accused but also their brave defenders who have been unfairly targeted. I read in today's newspapers that the proceedings—" Here, the President interrupted, saying, "These are matters unrelated to the case." "Not at all," Cosier St. Victor replied; "in fact, they directly impact the case, as twisting and misrepresenting our defense is definitely a tactic meant to damage our reputation with the public. In today's newspapers, M. Gauthier's speech is terribly distorted, and I would be ungrateful if I didn't take this moment to acknowledge the dedication and bravery he has shown in my defense. I protest against the ridiculous and absurd things that have been attributed to him, and I urge him not to lessen his generous efforts. I'm saying this not for his sake; he doesn't need my support; it’s for myself, for the accused, because such tactics harm us in the eyes of the public."







      Coster St. Victor had something chivalrous in his language and manners
      which spoke greatly in his favour; he conveyed no bad idea of one of the
      Fiesco conspirators, or of those leaders of the Fronds who intermingled
      gallantry with their politics.
    
Coster St. Victor had a chivalrous way of speaking and behaving that worked in his favor; he gave a positive impression of one of the Fiesco conspirators, or of those leaders of the Fronds who combined charm with their political actions.







      An anecdote to this effect was current about the period of the trial.
      Coster St. Victor, it is related, being unable any longer to find a secure
      asylum in Paris, sought refuge for a single night in the house of a
      beautiful actress, formerly in the good graces of the First Consul; and it
      is added that Bonaparte, on the same night, having secretly arrived on a
      visit to the lady, found himself unexpectedly in the presence of Coster
      St. Victor, who might have taken his life; but that only an interchange of
      courtesy took place betwixt the rival gallants.
    
An interesting story was going around during the time of the trial. Coster St. Victor, it was said, could no longer find a safe place to stay in Paris, so he sought refuge for one night in the home of a beautiful actress who had once been favored by the First Consul. It’s also noted that Bonaparte, secretly visiting the lady that same night, unexpectedly found himself face to face with Coster St. Victor, who could have killed him; however, instead, the two rivals simply exchanged polite words.







      This ridiculous story was doubtless intended to throw additional odium on
      the First Consul, if Cosier St. Victor should be condemned and not obtain
      a pardon, in which case malignity would not fail to attribute his
      execution to the vengeance of a jealous lover.
    
This absurd story was definitely meant to increase the blame on the First Consul if Cosier St. Victor was condemned and didn’t receive a pardon, in which case people would surely argue that his execution was due to the revenge of a jealous lover.







      I should blush to relate such stories, equally destitute of probability
      and truth, had they not obtained some credit at the time. Whilst I was
      with Bonaparte he never went abroad during the night; and it was not
      surely at a moment when the saying of Fouché, "The air is full of
      poniards," was fully explained that he would have risked such nocturnal
      adventures.
    
I should feel embarrassed to share such stories, which are completely lacking in likelihood and truth, if they hadn't gained some credibility back then. While I was with Bonaparte, he never went out at night; and it certainly wasn't at a time when Fouché's saying, "The air is full of poniards," was fully understood that he would have taken such nighttime risks.







      Wright was heard in the sixth sitting, on the 2d of June, as the hundred
      and thirty-fourth witness in support of the prosecution. He, however,
      refused to answer any interrogatories put to him, declaring that, as a
      prisoner of war, he considered himself only amenable to his own
      Government.
    
Wright was heard in the sixth session, on June 2nd, as the one hundred thirty-fourth witness for the prosecution. However, he refused to answer any questions directed at him, stating that, as a prisoner of war, he believed he was only accountable to his own government.







      The Procureur-General requested the President to order the examinations of
      Captain Wright on the 21st of May' and at a later period to be read over
      to him; which being done, the witness replied, that it was omitted to be
      stated that on these occasions the questions had been accompanied with the
      threat of transferring him to a military tribunal, in order to be shot, if
      he did not betray the secrets of his country.
    
The Attorney General asked the President to have Captain Wright's statements reviewed on May 21st and again later. When this was done, the witness noted that it hadn't been mentioned that during these times, the questions came with the threat of being sent to a military court to be executed if he didn't reveal his country's secrets.







      In the course of the trial the most lively interest was felt for MM. de
      Polignac—
    
In the course of the trial, there was a lot of lively interest in MM. de Polignac—






 —[The eldest of the Polignacs, Armand (1771-1847), condemned to
   death, had that penalty remitted, but was imprisoned in Ham till
   permitted to escape m 1813. He became Duc de Richelieu in 1817.
   His younger brother, Jules (1780-1847) was also imprisoned and
   escaped. In 1814 he was one of the first to display the white flag
   in Paris. In 1829 he became Minister of Charles X. and was
   responsible for the ordinances which cost his master his throne in
   1830. Imprisoned, nominally for life, he was released in 1836, and
   after passing some time in England returned to France. The
   remission of the sentence of death on Prince Armand was obtained by
   the Empress Josephine. Time after time, urged on by Madame de
   Rémusat, she implored mercy from Napoleon, who at last consented to
   see the wife of the Prince. Unlike the Bourbon Louis XVIII., who
   could see Madame de Lavalette only to refuse the wretched woman's
   prayer for her husband, for Napoleon to grant the interview was to
   concede the pardon. The Prince escaped death, and his wife who had
   obtained the interview by applying to Madame de Rémusat, when she
   met her benefactress in the times of the Restoration, displayed a
   really grand forgetfulness of what had passed (see Rémusat, tome ii.
   chap. i.).]— 
 —[The oldest of the Polignacs, Armand (1771-1847), was sentenced to death but had his sentence commuted and was imprisoned in Ham until he managed to escape in 1813. He became the Duc de Richelieu in 1817. His younger brother, Jules (1780-1847), was also imprisoned and escaped. In 1814, he was one of the first to raise the white flag in Paris. In 1829, he became Minister under Charles X and was responsible for the ordinances that cost his king his throne in 1830. He was imprisoned, technically for life, but was released in 1836. After spending some time in England, he returned to France. The commutation of Armand's death sentence was secured by Empress Josephine. Time and again, urged on by Madame de Rémusat, she pleaded for mercy from Napoleon, who eventually agreed to meet the prince's wife. Unlike Bourbon Louis XVIII., who could only refuse Madame de Lavalette's desperate plea for her husband, Napoleon's consent to the meeting was effectively a grant of pardon. The prince escaped execution, and his wife, who had obtained the meeting by reaching out to Madame de Rémusat, later showed remarkable generosity in forgetting the past when she encountered her benefactor during the Restoration (see Rémusat, tome ii. chap. i.).]—







      Charles d'Hozier, and de Riviere. So short a period had elapsed since the
      proscription of the nobility that, independently of every feeling of
      humanity, it was certainly impolitic to exhibit before the public the
      heirs of an illustrious name, endowed with that devoted heroism which
      could not fail to extort admiration even from those who condemned their
      opinions and principles.
    
Charles d'Hozier and de Riviere. It had only been a short time since the nobility had been banned, and aside from any feelings of compassion, it was definitely unwise to showcase the heirs of such a distinguished name, who possessed a kind of devoted heroism that would likely win admiration even from those who disagreed with their views and beliefs.







      The prisoners were all young, and their situation create universal
      sympathy. The greatest number of them disdained to have recourse to a
      denial, and seemed less anxious for the preservation of their own lives
      than for the honour of the cause in which they had embarked, not with the
      view of assassination, as had been demonstrated, but for the purpose of
      ascertaining the true state of the public feeling, which had been
      represented by some factious intriguers as favourable to the Bourbons.
      Even when the sword of the law was suspended over their heads the faithful
      adherents of the Bourbons displayed on every occasion their attachment and
      fidelity to the royal cause. I recollect that the Court was dissolved in
      tears when the President adduced as a proof of the guilt of M. de Riviere
      his having worn a medal of the Comte d'Artois, which the prisoner
      requested to examine; and, on its being handed to him by an officer, M. de
      Riviere pressed it to his lips and his heart, then returning it, he said
      that he only wished to render homage to the Prince whom he loved.
    
The prisoners were all young, and their situation created universal sympathy. The majority of them refused to deny their actions and seemed less worried about saving their own lives than about the honor of the cause they were part of, which was not aimed at assassination, as had been shown, but rather at understanding the true public sentiment, which some scheming troublemakers had falsely presented as supportive of the Bourbons. Even when the threat of punishment loomed over them, the loyal supporters of the Bourbons consistently showed their allegiance and commitment to the royal cause. I remember the courtroom was filled with tears when the President brought up as evidence of M. de Riviere's guilt the fact that he had worn a medal of the Comte d'Artois, which the prisoner asked to see. When it was passed to him by an officer, M. de Riviere pressed it to his lips and heart, and then, returning it, he said he only wanted to pay tribute to the Prince he loved.







      The Court was still more deeply affected on witnessing the generous
      fraternal struggle which took place during the last sitting between the
      two De Polignacs. The emotion was general when the eldest of the brothers,
      after having observed that his always going out alone and during the day
      did not look like a conspirator anxious for concealment, added these
      remarkable words which will remain indelibly engraven on my memory: "I
      have now only one wish, which is that, as the sword is suspended over our
      heads, and threatens to cut short the existence of several of the accused,
      you would, in consideration of his youth if not of his innocence, spare my
      brother, and shower down upon me the whole weight of your vengeance." It
      was during the last sitting but one, on Friday the 8th of June, that M.
      Armand de Polignac made the above affecting appeal in favour of his
      brother. The following day, before the fatal sentence was pronounced, M.
      Jules de Polignac addressed the judges, saying, "I was so deeply affected
      yesterday, while my brother was speaking, as not fully to have attended to
      what I read in my own defence: but being now perfectly tranquil, I
      entreat, gentlemen, that you will not regard what he urged in my behalf. I
      repeat, on the contrary, and with most justice, if one of us must fall a
      sacrifice, if there be yet time, save him, restore him to the tears of his
      wife; I have no tie like him, I can meet death unappalled;—too young
      to have tasted the pleasures of the world, I cannot regret their loss."—"No,
      no," exclaimed his brother, "you are still in the outset of your career;
      it is I who ought to fall."
    
The Court was even more moved when witnessing the heartfelt struggle between the two De Polignacs during the last session. There was a wave of emotion when the older brother, noting that his frequent outings alone during the day didn’t reflect a conspirator trying to hide, said these unforgettable words that are etched in my memory: "I have only one wish now, which is that, with the sword hanging over us, threatening to end the lives of several of those accused, you would, considering his youth if not his innocence, spare my brother and take all the weight of your judgment on me instead." This touching appeal in favor of his brother was made by M. Armand de Polignac during the second-to-last session, on Friday, June 8th. The next day, before the final verdict was announced, M. Jules de Polignac spoke to the judges, saying, "I was so overwhelmed yesterday while my brother was speaking that I didn’t fully focus on what I read in my defense: but now that I’m calm, I urge you, gentlemen, not to take my brother’s words into account. I repeat, quite justifiably, if one of us has to be sacrificed, and if there’s still time, save him and return him to his wife’s tears; I have no ties like he does, and I can face death without fear; too young to have experienced the joys of the world, I can’t regret their loss."—"No, no," his brother exclaimed, "you are just at the start of your journey; it should be me who falls."







      At eight in the morning the members of the Tribunal withdrew to the
      council-chamber. Since the commencement of the proceedings the crowd, far
      from diminishing, seemed each day to increase; this morning it was
      immense, and, though the sentence was not expected to be pronounced till a
      late hour, no one quitted the Court for fear of not being able to find a
      place when the Tribunal should resume its sitting.
    
At eight in the morning, the members of the Tribunal went to the council chamber. Since the proceedings started, the crowd had only gotten larger each day; this morning it was huge, and even though the sentence wasn’t expected to be announced until later, no one left the Court for fear they wouldn’t get a spot when the Tribunal resumed its session.







      Sentence of death was passed upon Georges Caudoudal, Bouvet de Lozier,
      Rusillon, Rochelle, Armand de Polignac, Charles d'Hozier, De Riviere,
      Louis Ducorps, Picot, Lajolais, Roger, Coster St. Victor, Deville,
      Gaillard, Joyaub, Burban; Lemercier, Jean Cadudol, Lelan, and Merille;
      while Lies de Polignac, Leridant, General Moreau,—[General Moreau's
      sentence was remitted, and he was allowed to go to America.]—Rolland,
      and Hisay were only condemned to two years' imprisonment.
    
The death sentence was handed down to Georges Caudoudal, Bouvet de Lozier, Rusillon, Rochelle, Armand de Polignac, Charles d'Hozier, De Riviere, Louis Ducorps, Picot, Lajolais, Roger, Coster St. Victor, Deville, Gaillard, Joyaub, Burban; Lemercier, Jean Cadudol, Lelan, and Merille; while Lies de Polignac, Leridant, General Moreau—[General Moreau's sentence was overturned, and he was allowed to go to America.]—Rolland, and Hisay were only sentenced to two years in prison.







      This decree was heard with consternation by the assembly, and soon spread
      throughout Paris. I may well affirm it to have been a day of public
      mourning; even though it was Sunday every place of amusement was nearly
      deserted. To the horror inspired by a sentence of death passed so
      wantonly, and of which the greater number of the victims belonged to the
      most distinguished class of society, was joined the ridicule inspired by
      the condemnation of Moreau; of the absurdity of which no one seemed more
      sensible than Bonaparte himself, and respecting which he expressed himself
      in the most pointed terms. I am persuaded that every one who narrowly
      watched the proceedings of this celebrated trial must have been convinced
      that all means were resorted to in order that Moreau, once accused, should
      not appear entirely free from guilt.
    
This decree shocked the assembly and quickly spread throughout Paris. I can confidently say it was a day of public mourning; even though it was Sunday, nearly all entertainment venues were empty. The horror felt from a death sentence handed down so carelessly, especially since most of the victims were from the upper class, was compounded by the ridicule surrounding Moreau’s condemnation. No one seemed more aware of its absurdity than Bonaparte himself, who made his thoughts on the matter very clear. I believe anyone who closely followed this famous trial must have realized that every effort was made to ensure that Moreau, once accused, wouldn’t appear completely innocent.







      Bonaparte is reported to have said, "Gentlemen, I have no control over
      your proceedings; it is your duty strictly to examine the evidence before
      presenting a report to me. But when it has once the sanction of your
      signatures, woe to you if an innocent man be condemned." This remark is in
      strict conformity with his usual language, and bears a striking similarity
      to the conversation I held with him on the following Thursday; but though
      this language might be appropriate from the lips of a sovereign whose
      ministers are responsible, it appears but a lame excuse in the mouth of
      Bonaparte, the possessor of absolute power.
    
Bonaparte reportedly said, "Gentlemen, I have no control over your actions; it's your responsibility to thoroughly review the evidence before you submit a report to me. But once you approve it with your signatures, woe to you if an innocent man is convicted." This statement aligns perfectly with his usual way of speaking and closely resembles the conversation I had with him the following Thursday. However, while this language might suit a sovereign whose ministers are accountable, it sounds like a weak excuse coming from Bonaparte, who holds absolute power.







      The condemned busied themselves in endeavouring to procure a repeal of
      their sentence, the greatest number of them yielded in this respect to the
      entreaties of their friends, who lost no time in taking the steps
      requisite to obtain the pardon of those in whom they were most interested.
      Moreau at first also determined to appeal; but he relinquished his purpose
      before the Court of Cessation commenced its sittings.
    
The condemned focused on trying to get their sentences overturned. Most of them gave in to the pleas of their friends, who quickly took the necessary steps to secure pardons for those they cared about most. Moreau initially decided to appeal, but he changed his mind before the Court of Cessation began its sessions.







      As soon as the decree of the special Tribunal was delivered, Murat,
      Governor of Paris, and brother-in-law to the Emperor, sought his presence
      and conjured him in the most urgent manner to pardon all the criminals,
      observing that such an act of clemency would redound greatly to his honour
      in the opinion of France and all Europe, that it would be said the Emperor
      pardoned the attempt against the life of the First Consul, that this act
      of mercy would shed more glory over the commencement of his reign than any
      security which could accrue from the execution of the prisoners. Such was
      the conduct of Murat; but he did not solicit, as has been reported, the
      pardon of any one in particular.
    
As soon as the special Tribunal's decree was delivered, Murat, the Governor of Paris and brother-in-law to the Emperor, sought his presence and urgently pleaded with him to pardon all the criminals. He noted that such an act of mercy would greatly enhance his reputation in the eyes of France and all of Europe, suggesting that it would be said the Emperor forgave the attempt on the life of the First Consul. Murat argued that this act of leniency would bring more glory to the start of his reign than any sense of security that could come from executing the prisoners. This was Murat's stance; however, he did not specifically request the pardon of any individual, contrary to what has been reported.







      Those who obtained the imperial pardon were Bouvet de Lozier, who expected
      it from the disclosures he had made; Rusillon, de Riviere, Rochelle,
      Armand de Polignac, d'Hozier, Lajolais, who had beforehand received a
      promise to that effect, and Armand Gaillard.
    
Those who received the emperor's pardon were Bouvet de Lozier, who anticipated it due to the information he had provided; Rusillon, de Riviere, Rochelle, Armand de Polignac, d'Hozier, Lajolais, who had previously been promised that outcome, and Armand Gaillard.







      The other ill-fated victims of a sanguinary police underwent their
      sentence on the 25th of June, two days after the promulgation of the
      pardon of their associates.
    
The other unfortunate victims of a brutal police force faced their punishment on June 25th, two days after the announcement of a pardon for their companions.







      Their courage and resignation never forsook them even for a moment, and
      Georges, knowing that it was rumoured he had obtained a pardon, entreated
      that he might die the first, in order that his companions in their last
      moments might be assured he had not survived them.
    
Their bravery and acceptance never left them for a second, and Georges, aware that people were saying he had received a pardon, begged to be the first to die so that his friends in their final moments would know he hadn’t outlived them.








 


 




















      CHAPTER XXVII.
    



      1804.
    
1804.


   Clavier and Hemart—Singular Proposal of Corvisart-M. Desmaisons—
   Project of influencing the judges—Visit to the Tuileries—Rapp in
   attendance—Long conversation with the Emperor—His opinion on the
   trial of Moreau—English assassins and Mr. Fox—Complaints against
   the English Government—Bonaparte and Lacuee—Affectionate
   behaviour—Arrest of Pichegru—Method employed by the First Consul
   to discover his presence in Paris—Character of Moreau—Measures of
   Bonaparte regarding him—Lauriston sent to the Temple—Silence
   respecting the Duc d'Enghien—Napoleon's opinion of Moreau and
   Georges—Admiration of Georges—Offers of employment and dismissal—
   Recital of former vexations—Audience of the Empress—Melancholy
   forebodings—What Bonaparte said concerning himself—Marks of
   kindness.

   Clavier and Hemart—Unique Proposal from Corvisart-M. Desmaisons—  
   Plan to influence the judges—Visit to the Tuileries—Rapp present—  
   Extended conversation with the Emperor—His views on Moreau's trial—  
   English assassins and Mr. Fox—Complaints about the English Government—  
   Bonaparte and Lacuee—Affectionate behavior—Arrest of Pichegru—  
   Strategy used by the First Consul to find his presence in Paris—  
   Character of Moreau—Bonaparte's plans regarding him—  
   Lauriston sent to the Temple—Silence about the Duc d'Enghien—  
   Napoleon's views on Moreau and Georges—Admiration for Georges—  
   Job offers and dismissals—Recap of past grievances—  
   Audience with the Empress—Melancholy premonitions—  
   What Bonaparte said about himself—Signs of kindness.







      The judges composing the Tribunal which condemned Moreau were not all like
      Thuriot and Hemart. History has recorded an honourable contrast to the
      general meanness of the period in the reply given by M. Clavier, when
      urged by Hemart to vote for the condemnation of Moreau. "Ah, Monsieur, if
      we condemn him, how shall we be able to acquit ourselves?" I have,
      besides, the best reason for asserting that the judges were tampered with,
      from, a circumstance which occurred to myself.
    
The judges who made up the Tribunal that condemned Moreau weren’t all like Thuriot and Hemart. History has noted an honorable contrast to the general pettiness of the time in M. Clavier’s response when Hemart pressured him to vote for Moreau’s condemnation. “Ah, Sir, if we condemn him, how can we justify ourselves?” I also have good reason to believe that the judges were influenced, based on an experience I had.







      Bonaparte knew that I was intimately connected with M. Desmaisons, one of
      the members of the Tribunal, and brother in-law to Corvisart; he also knew
      that Desmaisons was inclined to believe in Moreau's innocence, and
      favourable to his acquittal. During the progress of the trial Corvisart
      arrived at my house one morning at a very early hour, in a state of such
      evident embarrassment that, before he had time to utter a word, I said to
      him, "What is the matter? Have you heard any bad news?"
    
Bonaparte knew that I had a close relationship with M. Desmaisons, one of the members of the Tribunal, and brother-in-law to Corvisart; he also knew that Desmaisons was inclined to believe in Moreau's innocence and was supportive of his acquittal. During the trial, Corvisart showed up at my place one morning very early, looking so troubled that before he could say anything, I asked him, "What’s going on? Have you heard some bad news?"







      "No," replied Corvisart, "but I came by the Emperor's order. He wishes you
      to see my brother-in-law. 'He is,' said he to me, 'the senior judge, and a
      man of considerable eminence; his opinion will carry with it great weight,
      and I know that he is favourable to Moreau; he is in the wrong. Visit
      Bourrienne, said the Emperor, and concert with him respecting the best
      method of convincing Desmaisons of his error, for I repeat he is wrong, he
      is deceived.' This is the mission with which I am entrusted."
    
"No," Corvisart replied, "but I came here on the Emperor's orders. He wants you to meet my brother-in-law. 'He is,' the Emperor told me, 'the senior judge and a man of significant standing; his opinion will carry a lot of weight, and I know he's supportive of Moreau; he is in the wrong. Visit Bourrienne,' the Emperor said, 'and discuss with him the best way to convince Desmaisons he's mistaken, because I repeat, he is wrong; he is misled.' This is the mission I’ve been given."







      "How," said I, with thorough astonishment, "how came you to be employed in
      this affair? Could you believe for one moment that I would tamper with a
      magistrate in order to induce him to exercise an unjust rigour?"
    
"How," I said, completely shocked, "how did you get involved in this? Did you really think for even a second that I would try to manipulate a judge to make him act unfairly?"







      "No, rest assured," replied Corvisart, "I merely visited you this morning
      in obedience to the order of the Emperor; but I knew beforehand in what
      manner you would regard the proposition with which I was charged. I knew
      your opinions and your character too well to entertain the smallest doubt
      in this respect, and I was convinced that I ran no risk in becoming the
      bearer of a commission which would be attended with no effect. Besides,
      had I refused to obey the Emperor, it would have proved prejudicial to
      your interest, and confirmed him in the opinion that you were favourable
      to the acquittal of Moreau. For myself," added Corvisart, "it is needless
      to affirm that I have no intention of attempting to influence the opinion
      of my brother-in-law; and if I had, you know him sufficiently well to be
      convinced in what light he would regard such a proceeding."
    
"No, you can relax," Corvisart replied. "I only came to see you this morning because the Emperor ordered it; but I already knew how you would feel about the proposal I was given. I understood your views and your character too well to have any doubt about it, and I was sure that bringing this message wouldn't put me at risk. Besides, if I had refused the Emperor, it would have harmed your interests and made him even more convinced that you supported Moreau's acquittal. As for me," Corvisart added, "there's no need to say that I don't plan to sway my brother-in-law's opinion; and if I did, you know him well enough to understand how he would view that."







      Such were the object and result of Corvisart's visit, and I am thence led
      to believe that similar attempts must have been made to influence other
      members of the Tribunal.
    
Such was the purpose and outcome of Corvisart's visit, and this leads me to believe that similar efforts must have been made to sway other members of the Tribunal.






 —["The judges had been pressed and acted on in a thousand ways by
   the hangers on of the Palace and especially by Real, the natural
   intermediary between justice and the Government. Ambition,
   servility, fear, every motive capable of influencing them, had been
   used: even their humane scruples were employed" (Lanfrey tome iii.
   p. 193, who goes on to say that the judges were urged to sentence
   Moreau to death in order that the Emperor might fully pardon him).]

 —["The judges were influenced in countless ways by the people around the Palace, particularly by Real, who acted as a go-between for justice and the Government. They faced pressure from ambition, servility, fear—every possible motive that could sway them was used: even their sense of humanity was manipulated" (Lanfrey tome iii. p. 193, who continues to say that the judges were pushed to sentence Moreau to death so that the Emperor could fully pardon him).]







      But however this may be, prudence led me to discontinue visiting M.
      Desmaisons, with whom I was in habits of the strictest friendship.
    
But no matter what, common sense made me stop visiting M. Desmaisons, with whom I had a very close friendship.







      About this period I paid a visit which occupies an important place in my
      recollections. On the 14th of June 1804, four days after the condemnation
      of Georges and his accomplices, I received a summons to attend the Emperor
      at St. Cloud. It was Thursday, and as I thought on the great events and
      tragic scenes about to be acted, I was rather uneasy respecting his
      intentions.
    
About this time, I took a visit that holds a significant place in my memories. On June 14, 1804, four days after the sentencing of Georges and his accomplices, I got a request to see the Emperor at St. Cloud. It was Thursday, and as I reflected on the major events and tragic scenes about to unfold, I felt a bit anxious about his intentions.







      But I was fortunate enough to find my friend Rapp in waiting, who said to
      me as I entered, "Be not alarmed; he is in the best of humours at present,
      and wishes to have some conversation with you."
    
But I was lucky enough to find my friend Rapp waiting, who said to me as I entered, "Don't worry; he’s in a great mood right now and wants to chat with you."







      Rapp then announced me to the Emperor, and I was immediately admitted to
      his presence. After pinching my ear and asking his usual questions, such
      as, "What does the world say? How are your children? What are you about?
      etc.," he said to me, "By the by, have you attended the proceedings
      against Moreau?"—"Yes, Sire, I have not been absent during one of
      the sittings."—"Well, Bourrienne, are you of the opinion that Moreau
      is innocent?"—"Yes, Sire; at least I am certain that nothing has
      come out in the course of the trial tending to criminate him; I am even
      surprised how he came to be implicated in this conspiracy, since nothing
      has appeared against him which has the most remote connexion with the
      affair."—"I know your opinion on this subject; Duroc related to me
      the conversation you held with him at the Tuileries; experience has shown
      that you were correct; but how could I act otherwise? You know that Bouvet
      de Lozier hanged himself in prison, and was only saved by accident. Real
      hurried to the Temple in order to interrogate him, and in his first
      confessions he criminated Moreau, affirming that he had held repeated
      conferences with Pichegru. Real immediately reported to me this fact, and
      proposed that Moreau should be arrested, since the rumours against him
      seemed to be well founded; he had previously made the same proposition. I
      at first refused my sanction to this measure; but after the charge made
      against him by Bouvet de Lozier, how could I act otherwise than I did?
      Could I suffer such open conspiracies against the Government? Could I
      doubt the truth of Bouvet de Lozier's declaration, under the circumstances
      in which it was made? Could I foresee that he would deny his first
      declaration when brought before the Court? There was a chain of
      circumstances which human sagacity could not penetrate, and I consented to
      the arrest of Moreau when it was proved that he was in league with
      Pichegru. Has not England sent assassins?"—"Sire," said I, "permit
      me to call to your recollection the conversation you had in my presence
      with Mr. Fox, after which you said to me, 'Bourrienne, I am very happy at
      having heard from the mouth of a man of honour that the British Government
      is incapable of seeking my life; I always wish to esteem my enemies."—"Bah!
      you are a fool! Parbleu! I did not say that the English Minister sent over
      an assassin, and that he said to him, 'Here is gold and a poniard; go and
      kill the First Consul.' No, I did not believe that; but it cannot be
      denied that all those foreign conspirators against my Government were
      serving England, and receiving pay from that power. Have I agents in
      London to disturb the Government of Great Britain? I have waged with it
      honourable warfare; I have not attempted to awaken a remembrance of the
      Stuarts amongst their old partisans. Is not Wright, who landed Georges and
      his accomplices at Dieppe, a captain in the British navy? But rest assured
      that, with the exception of a few babblers, whom I can easily silence, the
      hearts of the French people are with me; everywhere public opinion has
      been declared in my favour, so that I have nothing to apprehend from
      giving the greatest publicity to these plots, and bringing the accused to
      a solemn trial. The greater number of those gentlemen wished me to bring
      the prisoners before a military commission, that summary judgment might be
      obtained; but I refused my consent to this measure. It might have been
      said that I dreaded public opinion; and I fear it not. People may talk as
      much as they please, well and good, I am not obliged to hear them; but I
      do not like those who are attached to my person to blame what I have
      done."
    
Rapp then introduced me to the Emperor, and I was quickly granted access to him. After pinching my ear and asking his usual questions, such as, "What’s the latest news? How are your kids? What are you up to?" he asked me, "By the way, have you followed the trial against Moreau?"—"Yes, Sire, I’ve been present for every session."—"So, Bourrienne, do you believe Moreau is innocent?"—"Yes, Sire; at least I’m certain nothing revealed in the trial points to his guilt; I’m even surprised he got involved in this conspiracy since there’s been no evidence against him linking him to the case."—"I know your view on this matter; Duroc told me about your conversation at the Tuileries; experience has confirmed you were right; but what else could I do? You know Bouvet de Lozier hanged himself in prison, and it was only by chance that he survived. Real rushed to the Temple to interrogate him, and in his initial confession, he implicated Moreau, claiming they’d had multiple meetings with Pichegru. Real immediately informed me and suggested Moreau’s arrest since the rumors seemed credible; he had previously proposed the same course of action. I initially refused to approve this, but given Bouvet de Lozier’s accusation against him, what was I supposed to do? Could I ignore such blatant conspiracies against the Government? Could I doubt the truth of Bouvet de Lozier’s claim, considering the context in which he made it? Could I anticipate that he would recant his initial confession when presented in Court? There was a series of events that no one could have predicted, so I agreed to Moreau’s arrest when it was shown he conspired with Pichegru. Didn’t England send assassins?”—“Sire,” I replied, “let me remind you of your conversation with Mr. Fox in my presence, after which you said to me, ‘Bourrienne, I’m glad to have heard from an honorable man that the British Government isn’t trying to kill me; I prefer to respect my enemies.’”—“Bah! You’re being foolish! Of course, I didn’t say the English Minister sent an assassin who was told, ‘Here’s some money and a dagger; go kill the First Consul.’ No, I didn’t believe that; but it’s undeniable that all those foreign conspirators against my Government were working for England and receiving money from them. Do I have agents in London stirring up trouble for the British Government? I have fought them honorably; I haven’t tried to stir up loyalties to the Stuarts among their old followers. Isn’t Wright, who brought Georges and his accomplices to Dieppe, a captain in the British navy? But rest assured that, aside from a few loudmouths I can easily silence, the French people are with me; public opinion has overwhelmingly supported me, so I have nothing to fear by making these plots public and putting the accused on trial. Most of those gentlemen wanted me to present the prisoners before a military commission to get a quick judgment, but I didn’t agree to that. It would have suggested that I fear public opinion; and I don’t. People can say whatever they want, that’s fine; I’m not obligated to listen to them, but I don’t appreciate those close to me criticizing my actions."







      As I could not wholly conceal an involuntary emotion, in which the Emperor
      saw something more than mere surprise, he paused, took me by the ear, and,
      smiling in the most affectionate manner, said, "I had no reference to you
      in what I said, but I have to complain of Lacuee. Could you believe that
      during the trial he went about clamouring in behalf of Moreau? He, my aide
      de camp—a man who owes everything to me! As for you, I have said
      that you acted very well in this affair."—"I know not, Sire, what
      has either been done or said by Lacuee,—whom I have not seen for a
      long time; what I said to Duroc is what history teaches in every page."—"By
      the by," resumed the Emperor, after a short silence, "do you know that it
      was I myself who discovered that Pichegru was in Paris. Everyone said to
      me, Pichegru is in Paris; Fouché, Real, harped on the same string, but
      could give me no proof of their assertion. 'What a fool you are,' said I
      to Real, when in an instant you may ascertain the fact. Pichegru has a
      brother, an aged ecclesiastic, who resides in Paris; let his dwelling be
      searched, and should he be absent, it will warrant a suspicion that
      Pichegru is here; if, on the contrary, his brother should be at home, let
      him be arrested: he is a simple-minded man, and in the first moments of
      agitation will betray the truth. Everything happened as I had foreseen,
      for no sooner was he arrested than, without waiting to be questioned, he
      inquired if it was a crime to have received his brother into his house.
      Thus every doubt was removed, and a miscreant in the house in which
      Pichegru lodged betrayed him to the police. What horrid degradation to
      betray a friend for the sake of gold."
    
As I couldn't completely hide my surprise, which the Emperor noticed as something deeper than mere astonishment, he paused, took me by the ear, and, smiling warmly, said, "I wasn't talking about you when I said that, but I have to complain about Lacuee. Can you believe that during the trial he was running around shouting in support of Moreau? He’s my aide de camp—a man who owes everything to me! As for you, I've mentioned that you handled this situation very well."—"I don’t know, Sire, what Lacuee has done or said, since I haven’t seen him in a while; what I told Duroc reflects what history teaches us."—"By the way," the Emperor continued after a brief pause, "do you know that I was the one who discovered Pichegru was in Paris? Everyone kept telling me that Pichegru was in Paris; Fouché and Real were repeating the same thing, but they couldn’t provide any evidence. 'What an idiot you are,' I said to Real, when you can find out the truth in an instant. Pichegru has a brother, an old clergyman, who lives in Paris; if we search his place and he’s not there, that will raise suspicions that Pichegru is nearby; if his brother is home, we should arrest him: he’s simple-minded, and in his initial panic, he will reveal the truth. Everything went exactly as I expected, because as soon as he was arrested, without even waiting to be questioned, he asked if it was a crime to have let his brother stay at his house. That cleared up all doubts, and a scoundrel in the house where Pichegru stayed turned him in to the police. What a shameful thing to betray a friend for money."







      Then reverting to Moreau, the Emperor talked a great deal respecting that
      general. "Moreau," he said, "possesses many good qualities; his bravery is
      undoubted; but he has more courage than energy; he is indolent and
      effeminate. When with the army he lived like a pasha; he smoked, was
      almost constantly in bed, and gave himself up to the pleasures of the
      table. His dispositions are naturally good; but he is too indolent for
      study; he does not read, and since he has been tied to his wife's
      apronstrings is fit for nothing. He sees only with the eyes of his wife
      and her mother, who have had a hand in all these late plots; and then,
      Bourrienne, is it not very strange that it was by my advice that he
      entered into this union? I was told that Mademoiselle Hulot was a creole,
      and I believed that he would find in her a second Josephine; how greatly
      was I mistaken! It is these women who have estranged us from each other,
      and I regret that he should have acted so unworthily. You must remember my
      observing to you more than two years ago that Moreau would one day run his
      head against the gate of the Tuileries; that he has done so was no fault
      of mine, for you know how much I did to secure his attachment. You cannot
      have forgotten the reception I gave him at Malmaison. On the 18th Brumaire
      I conferred on him the charge of the Luxembourg, and in that situation he
      fully justified my choice. But since that period he has behaved towards me
      with the utmost ingratitude—entered into all the silly cabala
      against me, blamed all my measures, and turned into ridicule the Legion of
      Honour. Have not some of the intriguers put it into his head that I regard
      him with jealousy? You must be aware of that. You must also know as well
      as I how anxious the members of the Directory were to exalt the reputation
      of Moreau. Alarmed at my success in Italy, they wished to have in the
      armies a general to serve as a counterpoise to my renown. I have ascended
      the throne and he is the inmate of a prison! You are aware of the
      incessant clamouring raised against me by the whole family, at which I
      confess I was very much displeased; coming from those whom I had treated
      so well! Had he attached himself to me, I would doubtless have conferred
      on him the title of First Marshal of the Empire; but what could I do? He
      constantly depreciated my campaigns and my government. From discontent to
      revolt there is frequently only one step, especially when a man of a weak
      character becomes the tool of popular clubs; and therefore when I was
      first informed that Moreau was implicated in the conspiracy of Georges I
      believed him to be guilty, but hesitated to issue an order for his arrest
      till I had taken the opinion of my Council. The members having assembled,
      I ordered the different documents to be laid before them, with an
      injunction to examine them with the utmost care, since they related to an
      affair of importance, and I urged them candidly to inform me whether, in
      their opinion, any of the charges against Moreau were sufficiently strong
      to endanger his life. The fools! their reply was in the affirmative; I
      believe they were even unanimous! Then I had no alternative but to suffer
      the proceedings to take their course. It is unnecessary to affirm to you,
      Bourrienne, that Moreau never should have perished on a scaffold! Most
      assuredly I would have pardoned him; but with the sentence of death
      hanging over his head he could no longer have proved dangerous; and his
      name would have ceased to be a rallying-point for disaffected Republicans
      or imbecile Royalists. Had the Council expressed any doubts respecting his
      guilt I would have intimated to him that the suspicions against him were
      so strong as to render any further connection between us impossible; and
      that the best course he could pursue would be to leave France for three
      years, under the pretext of visiting some of the places rendered
      celebrated during the late wars; but that if he preferred a diplomatic
      mission I would make a suitable provision for his expenses; and the great
      innovator, Time, might effect great changes during the period of his
      absence. But my foolish Council affirmed to me that his guilt, as a
      principal, being evident, it was absolutely necessary to bring him to
      trial; and now his sentence is only that of a pickpocket. What think you I
      ought to do? Detain him? He might still prove a rallying-point. No. Let
      him sell his property and quit? Can I confine him in the Temple? It is
      full enough without him. Still, if this had been the only great error they
      had led me to commit—"
    
Then returning to Moreau, the Emperor spoke a lot about that general. “Moreau,” he said, “has many good qualities; his bravery is undeniable, but he has more courage than drive; he’s lazy and soft. While with the army, he lived like a pasha; he smoked, was almost always in bed, and indulged in good food. His natural instincts are good; but he’s too lazy for study; he doesn’t read, and since he’s been tied to his wife, he’s good for nothing. He only sees things through his wife and her mother, who’ve played a part in all these recent plots; and then, Bourrienne, isn’t it strange that it was my advice that led him to this union? I was told that Mademoiselle Hulot was a creole, and I thought he would find in her a second Josephine; how wrong I was! It’s these women who have driven us apart, and I regret that he acted so poorly. You must remember I told you more than two years ago that Moreau would eventually hit his head against the gate of the Tuileries; that he has done so was not my fault, for you know how much I did to secure his loyalty. You can’t have forgotten the welcome I gave him at Malmaison. On the 18th Brumaire, I gave him the position at the Luxembourg, and in that role, he completely justified my choice. But since then, he has treated me with the utmost ingratitude—joined in all the silly conspiracies against me, criticized all my actions, and mocked the Legion of Honour. Haven’t some of the schemers convinced him that I view him with jealousy? You must be aware of that. You must also know how eager the members of the Directory were to boost Moreau’s reputation. Alarmed by my success in Italy, they wanted a general in the army to balance my fame. I’ve ascended to the throne while he’s stuck in prison! You know about the nonstop complaints against me from the entire family, which I admit I found very displeasing, coming from those I had treated so well! If he had stuck by me, I would certainly have made him the First Marshal of the Empire; but what could I do? He constantly belittled my campaigns and my governance. There’s often just one step from discontent to rebellion, especially when a weak character becomes a pawn for populist groups; and so, when I first learned that Moreau was involved in Georges’ conspiracy, I believed him to be guilty, but I hesitated to order his arrest until I consulted my Council. Once the members gathered, I had the relevant documents presented to them for thorough examination because they pertained to an important matter, and I urged them to honestly tell me whether any of the charges against Moreau were strong enough to threaten his life. The fools! Their response was affirmative; I believe they were even unanimous! So, I had no choice but to let the process unfold. I don’t need to tell you, Bourrienne, that Moreau should never have died on a scaffold! I would have certainly pardoned him; but with a death sentence hanging over his head, he could no longer pose a threat, and his name would have stopped being a rallying point for disgruntled Republicans or foolish Royalists. If the Council had expressed any doubts about his guilt, I would have suggested to him that the suspicions against him were so strong that any further connection between us would be impossible; and that the best thing for him would be to leave France for three years, under the guise of visiting some notable places from the recent wars; but if he preferred a diplomatic mission, I would provide for his expenses; and the great innovator, Time, might create significant changes during his absence. However, my foolish Council insisted that his guilt, as a principal actor, was clear, and it was absolutely necessary to put him on trial; and now his sentence is no more than that of a pickpocket. What do you think I should do? Keep him detained? He might still become a rallying point. No. Should he sell his property and leave? Can I confine him in the Temple? It’s full enough without him. Still, if this was the only major mistake they led me to make—”







      "Sire, how greatly you have been deceived."
    
"Sire, you've been deceived so much."







      "Oh yes, I have been so; but I cannot see everything with my own eyes."
    
"Oh yeah, I have been, but I can’t see everything with my own eyes."







      At this part of our conversation, of which I have suppressed my own share
      as much as possible, I conceived that the last words of Bonaparte alluded
      to the death of the Duc d'Enghien; and I fancied he was about to mention
      that event but he again spoke of Moreau.
    
At this point in our conversation, which I have tried to minimize my own input as much as I could, I thought that Bonaparte's last words referred to the death of the Duc d'Enghien; and I imagined he was about to bring up that event, but he turned his attention back to Moreau.







      "He is very much mistaken," resumed the Emperor, "if he conceives I bore
      any ill-will towards him. After his arrest I sent Lauriston to the Temple,
      whom I chose because he was of an amiable and conciliating disposition; I
      charged him to tell Moreau to confess he had only seen Pichegru, and I
      would cause the proceedings against him to be suspended. Instead of
      receiving this act of generosity as he ought to have done, he replied to
      it with great haughtiness, so much was he elated that Pichegru had not
      been arrested; he afterwards, however, lowered his tone. He wrote to me a
      letter of excuse respecting his anterior conduct, which I caused to be
      produced on the trial. He was the author of his own ruin; besides, it
      would have required men of a different stamp from Moreau to conspire
      against me. Amoung, the conspirators, for example, was an individual whose
      fate I regret; this Georges in my hands might have achieved great things.
      I can duly appreciate the firmness of character he displayed, and to which
      I could have given a proper direction. I caused Real to intimate to him
      that, if he would attach himself to me, not only should he be pardoned,
      but that I would give him the command of a regiment. Perhaps I might even
      have made him my aide de camp. Complaints would have been made, but,
      parbleu, I should not have cared. Georges refused all my offers; he was as
      inflexible as iron. What could I do? he underwent his fate, for he was a
      dangerous man; circumstances rendered his death a matter of necessity.
      Examples of severity were called for, when England was pouring into France
      the whole offscouring of the emigration; but patience, patience! I have a
      long arm, and shall be able to reach them, when necessary. Moreau regarded
      Georges merely as a ruffian—I viewed him in a different light. You
      may remember the conversation I had with him at the Tuileries—you
      and Rapp were in an adjoining cabinet. I tried in vain to influence him—some
      of his associates were affected at the mention of country and of glory; he
      alone stood cold and unmoved. I addressed myself to his feelings, but in
      vain; he was insensible to everything I said. At that period Georges
      appeared to me little ambitious of power; his whole wishes seemed to
      centre in commanding the Vendeans. It was not till I had exhausted every
      means of conciliation that I assumed the tone and language of the first
      magistrate. I dismissed him with a strong injunction to live retired—to
      be peaceable and obedient—not to misinterpret the motives of my
      conduct towards himself—nor attribute to weakness what was merely
      the result of moderation and strength. 'Rest assured,' I added, 'and
      repeat to your associates, that while I hold the reins of authority there
      will be neither chance nor salvation for those who dare to conspire
      against me: How he conformed to this injunction the event has shown. Real
      told me that when Moreau and Georges found themselves in the presence of
      Pichegru they could not come to any understanding, because Georges would
      not act against the Bourbons. Well, he had a plan, but Moreau had none; he
      merely wished for my overthrow, without having formed any ulterior views
      whatever. This showed that he was destitute of even common sense. Apropos,
      Bourrienne, have you seen Corvisart?"—"Yes, Sire."—"Well!" "He
      delivered to me the message with which you entrusted him."—"And
      Desmaisons!—I wager that you have not spoken to him in conformity to
      my wishes."—"Sire, the estimation in which I hold Desmaisons
      deterred me from a course so injurious to him; for in what other light
      could he have considered what I should have said to him? I have never
      visited at his house since the commencement of the trial."—"Well!
      well! Be prudent and discreet, I shall not forget you." He then waved a
      very gracious salute with his hand, and withdrew into his cabinet.
    
"He is very much mistaken," the Emperor continued, "if he thinks I held any ill feelings toward him. After his arrest, I sent Lauriston to the Temple because I wanted someone who was friendly and diplomatic. I told him to ask Moreau to just admit he had only seen Pichegru, and I would halt the proceedings against him. Instead of accepting this act of generosity as he should have, he responded with a lot of arrogance, so pleased was he that Pichegru hadn’t been arrested; he later, however, toned it down. He wrote me a letter apologizing for his previous behavior, which I had presented during the trial. He brought about his own downfall; besides, it would have taken someone very different from Moreau to conspire against me. Among the conspirators was a person whose fate I regret; this Georges could have achieved great things if he had been on my side. I recognize the strength of character he showed, which I could have properly guided. I had Real let him know that if he joined me, not only would he be pardoned, but I would also give him command of a regiment. I might have even made him my aide-de-camp. Sure, there would have been complaints, but honestly, I wouldn’t have cared. Georges rejected all my offers; he was as unyielding as iron. What could I do? He faced his fate since he was a dangerous man; circumstances made his death necessary. During a time when England was sending the worst of the emigration into France, examples of severity were needed; but patience, patience! I have a long arm, and I will be able to reach them when necessary. Moreau only saw Georges as a thug—I saw him differently. You might remember our conversation at the Tuileries—you and Rapp were in the next room. I tried in vain to sway him—some of his friends were touched by the ideas of country and glory; he, on the other hand, remained cold and unfazed. I appealed to his feelings, but it was futile; he was indifferent to everything I said. At that time, Georges didn’t seem to care much about power; all he seemed to want was to lead the Vendeans. It wasn’t until I had exhausted every conciliatory approach that I took on the tone and authority of the head magistrate. I dismissed him with a strong warning to live quietly—to be peaceful and obedient—not to misinterpret my intentions towards him—nor attribute to weakness what was merely a result of moderation and strength. 'Rest assured,' I added, 'and tell your associates that as long as I have power, there will be no chances or escape for those who dare to conspire against me.' How he followed this warning has been shown by events. Real told me that when Moreau and Georges found themselves facing Pichegru, they couldn’t agree because Georges wouldn’t act against the Bourbons. He had a plan, but Moreau had none; he just wanted to take me down without any further strategy in mind. This showed he lacked even basic common sense. By the way, Bourrienne, have you seen Corvisart?"—"Yes, Sire."—"Well!" "He delivered the message you asked him to."—"And Desmaisons! I bet you didn’t talk to him as I wanted."—"Sire, my high regard for Desmaisons stopped me from doing something that could harm him; how else could he have seen what I would have said to him? I haven’t visited his house since the trial began."—"Well! Be careful and discreet; I won’t forget you." He then waved a gracious farewell with his hand and went back into his office.







      The Emperor had detained me more than an hour. On leaving the
      audience-chamber I passed through the outer salon, where a number of
      individuals were waiting; and I perceived that an observance of etiquette
      was fast gaining ground, though the Emperor had not yet adopted the
      admirable institution of Court Chamberlains.
    
The Emperor had kept me for over an hour. As I left the audience chamber, I walked through the outer salon, where several people were waiting; I noticed that a sense of etiquette was quickly becoming established, even though the Emperor hadn't yet implemented the excellent practice of Court Chamberlains.







      I cannot deny that I was much gratified with my reception; besides I was
      beginning to be weary of an inactive life, and was anxious to obtain a
      place, of which I stood in great need, from the losses I had sustained and
      the unjust resumption which Bonaparte had made of his gifts. Being
      desirous to speak of Napoleon with the strictest impartiality, I prefer
      drawing my conclusions from those actions in which I had no personal
      concern. I shall therefore only relate here, even before giving an account
      of my visit to the Empress on leaving the audience-chamber, the former
      conduct of Napoleon towards myself and Madame de Bourrienne, which will
      justify the momentary alarm with which I was seized when summoned to the
      Tuileries, and the satisfaction I felt at my reception. I had a proof of
      what Rapp said of the Emperor being in good-humour, and was flattered by
      the confidential manner in which he spoke to me concerning some of the
      great political secrets of his Government. On seeing me come out Rapp
      observed, "You have had a long audience."—"Yes, not amiss;" and this
      circumstance procured for me a courtly salutation from all persons waiting
      in the antechamber.'
    
I can't deny that I was really pleased with my reception; besides, I was starting to get tired of a life without much activity, and I was eager to secure a position that I desperately needed after the losses I had faced and the unfair way Bonaparte took back his gifts. Wanting to talk about Napoleon with complete impartiality, I prefer to draw my conclusions from the actions in which I had no personal stake. So, I will only share here, even before recounting my visit to the Empress after leaving the audience chamber, Napoleon's previous behavior towards me and Madame de Bourrienne, which explains the brief panic I felt when called to the Tuileries, and the satisfaction I experienced during my reception. I saw proof of what Rapp said about the Emperor being in a good mood and felt honored by the trustful way he spoke to me about some significant political secrets of his Government. When I came out, Rapp commented, "You’ve had a long audience." — "Yes, it was fine;" and this got me a polite greeting from everyone waiting in the antechamber.







      I shall now relate how I spent the two preceding years. The month after I
      tendered my resignation to the First Consul, and which he refused to
      accept, the house at St. Cloud belonging to Madame Deville was offered to
      me; it was that in which the Duc d'Angouleme and the Duc de Berri were
      inoculated. I visited this mansion, thinking it might be suitable for my
      family; but, notwithstanding the beauty of its situation, it seemed far
      too splendid either for my taste or my fortune. Except the outer walls, it
      was in a very dilapidated state, and would require numerous and expensive
      repairs. Josephine, being informed that Madame de Bourrienne had set her
      face against the purchase, expressed a wish to see the mansion, and
      accompanied us for that purpose. She was so much delighted with it that
      she blamed my wife for starting any objections to my becoming, its
      possessor. "With regard to the expense," Josephine replied to her, "ah, we
      shall arrange that." On our return to Malmaison she spoke of it in such
      high terms that Bonaparte said to me, "Why don't you purchase it,
      Bourrienne, since the price is so reasonable?"
    
I’ll now share how I spent the last two years. The month after I resigned to the First Consul, which he refused to accept, I was offered the house in St. Cloud owned by Madame Deville; it was the same one where the Duc d'Angouleme and the Duc de Berri were inoculated. I checked out the place, thinking it might be right for my family, but despite its beautiful location, it felt way too extravagant for my taste and budget. Aside from the outer walls, it was pretty run down and needed a lot of costly repairs. Josephine heard that Madame de Bourrienne was against the purchase and wanted to see the house, so she joined us. She was so impressed that she scolded my wife for having any objections to my becoming its owner. "As for the cost," Josephine told her, "oh, we can work that out." On our way back to Malmaison, she praised it so much that Bonaparte said to me, "Why don't you buy it, Bourrienne, since the price is so good?"







      The house was accordingly purchased. An outlay of 20,000 francs was
      immediately required to render it habitable. Furniture was also necessary
      for this large mansion, and orders for it were accordingly given. But no
      sooner were repairs begun than everything crumbled to pieces, which
      rendered many additional expenses necessary.
    
The house was bought as planned. An immediate investment of 20,000 francs was needed to make it livable. Furniture was also necessary for this large mansion, so orders were placed for it. But as soon as the repairs started, everything fell apart, leading to many extra expenses.







      About this period Bonaparte hurried forward the works at St. Cloud, to
      which place he immediately removed. My services being constantly required,
      I found it so fatiguing to go twice or thrice a day from Ruel to St. Cloud
      that I took possession of my new mansion, though it was still filled with
      workmen. Scarcely eight days had elapsed from this period when Bonaparte
      intimated that he no longer had occasion for my services. When my wife
      went to take leave Napoleon spoke to her in a flattering manner of my good
      qualities, my merit, and the utility of my labours, saying that he was
      himself the most unfortunate of the three, and that my loss could never be
      replaced. He then added, "I shall be absent for a month, but Bourrienne
      may be quite easy; let him remain in retirement, and on my return I shall
      reward his services, should I even create a place on purpose for him."
    
During this time, Bonaparte rushed the construction at St. Cloud and quickly moved there. Since my services were always in demand, I found it exhausting to travel back and forth from Ruel to St. Cloud two or three times a day, so I moved into my new house, even though it was still occupied by workers. Just a week later, Bonaparte indicated that he no longer needed my services. When my wife went to say goodbye, Napoleon spoke highly of my qualities, my contributions, and the value of my work, mentioning that he considered himself the most unfortunate of the three and that my absence couldn't be replaced. He then added, "I will be away for a month, but Bourrienne shouldn’t worry; he can stay out of sight, and when I return, I will reward his services, even if I have to create a position just for him."







      Madame de Bourrienne then requested leave to retain the apartments
      appropriated to her in the Tuileries till after her accouchement, which
      was not far distant, to which he replied, "You may keep them as long as
      you please; for it will be some time before I again reside in Paris."
    
Madame de Bourrienne then asked if she could keep the rooms assigned to her in the Tuileries until after she gave birth, which was coming up soon. He replied, "You can hold onto them for as long as you want; it'll be a while before I stay in Paris again."







      Bonaparte set out on his journey, and shortly afterwards I went with my
      family to visit Madame de Coubertin, my cousin-german, who received us
      with her usual kindness. We passed the time of the First Consul's absence
      at her country seat, and only returned to St. Cloud on the day Bonaparte
      was expected.
    
Bonaparte started his journey, and soon after, my family and I went to visit Madame de Coubertin, my cousin, who welcomed us with her usual warmth. We spent the time while the First Consul was away at her country house, and only came back to St. Cloud on the day Bonaparte was expected.







      Scarcely a quarter of an hour had elapsed after his arrival when I
      received an intimation to give up, in twenty-four hours, the apartments in
      the Tuileries, which he had promised my wife should retain till after her
      confinement. He reclaimed at the same time the furniture of Ruel, which he
      presented to me two years before, when I purchased that small house on
      purpose to be near him.
    
Barely fifteen minutes had passed since his arrival when I got a notice to vacate the apartments in the Tuileries within twenty-four hours, which he had assured my wife would be available until after her childbirth. At the same time, he also asked for the furniture from Ruel that he had given me two years earlier when I bought that little house specifically to be close to him.







      I addressed several memorials to him on this subject, stating that I had
      replaced the worn-out furniture with new and superior articles; but this
      he wholly disregarded, compelling me to give up everything, even to the
      greatest trifle. It may be right to say that on his return the Emperor
      found his table covered with information respecting my conduct in Paris,
      though I had not held the smallest communication with any one in the
      capital, nor once entered it during his absence.
    
I wrote him several letters about this matter, explaining that I had replaced the old furniture with new and better items; but he completely ignored this, forcing me to give up everything, even the smallest things. It’s worth mentioning that when the Emperor returned, he found his table piled with details about my actions in Paris, even though I hadn’t spoken to anyone in the capital or set foot there during his absence.







      After my departure for Hamburg, Bonaparte took possession of my stables
      and coach-house, which he filled with horses. Even the very avenues and
      walks were converted into stabling. A handsome house at the entrance to
      the park was also appropriated to similar purposes; in fact, he spared
      nothing. Everything was done in the true military style; I neither had
      previous intimation of the proceedings nor received any remuneration for
      my loss. The Emperor seemed to regard the property as his own; but though
      he all but ordered me to make the purchase, he did not furnish the money
      that was paid for it. In this way it was occupied for more than four
      years.
    
After I left for Hamburg, Bonaparte took over my stables and coach house, which he filled with horses. Even the paths and walkways were turned into stables. A beautiful house at the entrance to the park was also used for the same purpose; in fact, he held nothing back. Everything was done in true military fashion; I had no prior notice of what was happening and didn't receive any compensation for my loss. The Emperor seemed to treat the property as if it belonged to him; even though he practically ordered me to make the purchase, he didn't provide the money that was paid for it. In this way, it was occupied for more than four years.







      The recollection of those arbitrary and vexatious proceedings on the part
      of Bonaparte has led me farther than I intended. I shall therefore return
      to the imperial residence of St. Cloud. On leaving the audience-chamber,
      as already stated, I repaired to the apartments of the Empress, who,
      knowing that I was in the Palace, had intimated her wishes for my
      attendance. No command could have been more agreeable to me, for every one
      was certain of a gracious reception from Josephine. I do not recollect
      which of the ladies in waiting was in attendance when my name was
      announced; but she immediately retired, and left me alone with Josephine.
      Her recent elevation had not changed the usual amenity of her disposition.
      After some conversation respecting the change in her situation, I gave her
      an account of what had passed between the Emperor and myself.
    
The memory of those random and frustrating actions by Bonaparte has taken me further than I meant to go. So, I’ll get back to the imperial residence of St. Cloud. After leaving the audience chamber, as I mentioned before, I went to the Empress’s rooms, who, knowing I was in the Palace, had indicated that she wanted me to attend. No request could have pleased me more, since everyone knew Josephine would greet us warmly. I can’t remember which lady in waiting was present when my name was announced; she quickly left, leaving me alone with Josephine. Her recent rise in status hadn’t changed her usual warmth and friendliness. After some discussion about her new situation, I told her what had happened between the Emperor and me.







      I faithfully related all that he had said of Moreau, observing that at one
      moment I imagined he was about to speak of the Duc d'Enghien, when he
      suddenly reverted to what he had been saying, and never made the slightest
      allusion to the subject.
    
I honestly shared everything he had said about Moreau, noting that for a moment I thought he was going to talk about the Duc d'Enghien, but then he suddenly went back to his previous topic and never brought it up again.







      Madame Bonaparte replied to me, "Napoleon has spoken the truth respecting
      Moreau. He was grossly deceived by those who believed they could best pay
      their court to him by calumniating that general. His silence on the
      subject of the Duc d'Enghien does not surprise me; he says as little
      respecting it as possible, and always in a vague manner, and with manifest
      repugnance. When you see Bonaparte again be silent on the subject, and
      should chance bring it forward, avoid every expression in the smallest
      degree indicative of reproach; he would not suffer it; you would ruin
      yourself for ever in his estimation, and the evil is, alas! without
      remedy. When you came to Malmaison I told you that I had vainly
      endeavoured to turn him from his fatal purpose, and how he had treated me.
      Since then he has experienced but little internal satisfaction; it is only
      in the presence of his courtiers that he affects a calm and tranquil
      deportment; but I perceive his sufferings are the greater from thus
      endeavouring to conceal them. By the by, I forgot to mention that he knew
      of the visit you paid me on the day after the catastrophe. I dreaded that
      your enemies, the greater number of whom are also mine, might have
      misrepresented that interview; but, fortunately, he paid little attention
      to it. He merely said, 'So you have seen Bourrienne? Does he sulk at me?
      Nevertheless I must do something for him.' He has again spoken in the same
      strain, and repeated nearly the same expressions three days ago; and since
      he has commanded your presence to-day, I have not a doubt but he has
      something in view for your advantage."—"May I presume to inquire
      what it is?"—"I do not yet know; but I would recommend to you, in
      the meantime, to be more strictly on your guard than ever; he is so
      suspicious, and so well informed of all that is done or said respecting
      himself. I have suffered so much since I last saw you; never can I forget
      the unkind manner in which he rejected my entreaties! For several days I
      laboured under a depression of spirits which greatly irritated him,
      because he clearly saw whence it proceeded. I am not dazzled by the title
      of Empress; I dread some evil will result from this step to him, to my
      children, and to myself. The miscreants ought to be satisfied; see to what
      they have driven us! This death embitters every moment of my life. I need
      not say to you, Bourrienne, that I speak this in confidence."—"You
      cannot doubt my prudence."—"No, certainly not, Bourrienne. I do not
      doubt it. My confidence in you is unbounded. Rest assured that I shall
      never forget what you have done for me, under various circumstances, and
      the devotedness you evinced to me on your return from Egypt.—Adieu,
      my friend. Let me see you soon again."
    
Madame Bonaparte replied to me, "Napoleon has been honest about Moreau. He was badly misled by those who thought they could win his favor by slandering that general. His silence on the Duc d'Enghien doesn't surprise me; he speaks as little about it as possible, and when he does, it's always vague and with clear reluctance. When you see Bonaparte again, keep quiet about it. If the topic comes up, avoid saying anything that could even slightly imply criticism; he wouldn’t tolerate it, and you would ruin your standing with him forever, and sadly, that damage is irreversible. When you visited Malmaison, I told you I had tried in vain to steer him away from his harmful course and how he had treated me. Since then, he hasn’t found much inner peace; he only appears calm and composed in front of his courtiers, but I can see his pain is more intense because he tries to hide it. By the way, I forgot to mention that he knew about your visit to me the day after the tragedy. I worried your enemies, many of whom are also mine, might have twisted that meeting, but fortunately, he didn’t pay much attention to it. He just said, 'So you’ve seen Bourrienne? Is he sulking at me? Still, I have to do something for him.' He mentioned something similar just three days ago, and since he has asked for you to be here today, I’m sure he has something planned for your benefit." — "Can I ask what it is?" — "I don't know yet; but I suggest you stay on your toes more than ever; he’s extremely suspicious and knows everything that’s happening or being said about him. I’ve suffered a lot since our last meeting; I can never forget how harshly he dismissed my pleas! For several days, I was down, which annoyed him greatly, as he clearly understood the cause. I’m not impressed by the title of Empress; I fear this decision will lead to trouble for him, for my children, and for myself. Those villains should be satisfied; look at what they’ve pushed us into! This death darkens every moment of my life. I don’t need to remind you, Bourrienne, that I’m sharing this in confidence." — "You know I’m discreet." — "Yes, I definitely believe you, Bourrienne. I have complete trust in you. Rest assured that I will never forget what you’ve done for me in various situations and your loyalty to me when you returned from Egypt. — Goodbye, my friend. I hope to see you again soon."







      It was on the 14th of June 1804 that I had this audience of the Emperor,
      and afterwards attended the Empress.
    
It was on June 14, 1804, that I met with the Emperor and then saw the Empress.







      On my return home I spent three hours in making notes of all that was said
      to me by these two personages; and the substance of these notes I have now
      given to the reader.
    
On my way back home, I took three hours to jot down everything that was said to me by these two individuals, and I've now shared the essence of those notes with the reader.








 


 




















      CHAPTER XXVIII.
    



      1804.
    
1804.


   Curious disclosures of Fouché—Remarkable words of Bonaparte
   respecting the protest of Louis XVIII—Secret document inserted in
   the Moniteur—Announcement from Bonaparte to Regnier—Fouché
   appointed Minister of Police—Error of Regnier respecting the
   conspiracy of Georges—Undeserved praise bestowed on Fouché—
   Indication of the return of the Bourbons—Variation between the
   words and conduct of Bonaparte—The iron crown—Celebration of the
   14th of July—Church festivals and loss of time—Grand ceremonial at
   the Invalides—Recollections of the 18th Brumaire—New oath of the
   Legion of Honour—General enthusiasm—Departure for Boulogne—Visits
   to Josephine at St. Cloud and Malmaison—Josephine and Madame de
   Rémusat—Pardons granted by the Emperor—Anniversary of the 14th of
   July—Departure for the camp of Boulogne—General error respecting
   Napoleon's designs—Caesar's Tower—Distribution of the crosses of
   the Legion of Honour—The military throne—Bonaparte's charlatanism
   —Intrepidity of two English sailors—The decennial prizes and the
   Polytechnic School—Meeting of the Emperor and Empress—First
   negotiation with the Holy Sea—The Prefect of Arras and Comte Louis
   de Narbonne—Change in the French Ministry.

   Curious revelations about Fouché—Notable comments from Bonaparte regarding Louis XVIII's protest—Secret document published in the Moniteur—Announcement from Bonaparte to Regnier—Fouché appointed Minister of Police—Regnier's mistake regarding Georges' conspiracy—Unmerited praise for Fouché—Signs of the Bourbons' return—Discrepancy between Bonaparte's words and actions—The iron crown—Celebration of July 14th—Church festivals and wasted time—Grand ceremony at the Invalides—Memories of the 18th Brumaire—New oath of the Legion of Honor—General excitement—Departure for Boulogne—Visits to Josephine at St. Cloud and Malmaison—Josephine and Madame de Rémusat—Pardons granted by the Emperor—Anniversary of July 14th—Departure for the Boulogne camp—Widespread misunderstanding of Napoleon's intentions—Caesar's Tower—Distribution of the crosses of the Legion of Honor—The military throne—Bonaparte's showmanship—Bravery of two English sailors—The decade prizes and the Polytechnic School—Meeting of the Emperor and Empress—First negotiations with the Holy See—The Prefect of Arras and Comte Louis de Narbonne—Change in the French Ministry.







      Louis XVIII., being at Warsaw when he was informed of the elevation of
      Napoleon to the Imperial dignity, addressed to the sovereigns of Europe a
      protest against that usurpation of his throne. Fouché, being the first who
      heard of this protest, immediately communicated the circumstance to the
      Emperor, observing that doubtless the copies would be multiplied and
      distributed amongst the enemies of his Government, in the Faubourg St.
      Germain, which might produce the worst effects, and that he therefore
      deemed it his duty to inform him that orders might be given to Regnier and
      Real to keep a strict watch over those engaged in distributing this
      document.
    
Louis XVIII was in Warsaw when he learned about Napoleon's rise to the throne. He sent a protest to the rulers of Europe against this takeover of his position. Fouché, the first to hear about the protest, quickly informed the Emperor, pointing out that copies would likely be circulated among the enemies of his Government in Faubourg St. Germain, which could lead to serious consequences. Therefore, he felt it was necessary to let the Emperor know that orders should be given to Regnier and Real to closely monitor those involved in distributing this document.







      "You may judge of my surprise," added Fouché, "you who know so well that
      formerly the very mention of the Bourbons rendered Bonaparte furious,
      when, after perusing the protest, he returned it to me, saying, 'Ah, ah,
      so the Comte de Lille makes his protest! Well, well, all in good time. I
      hold my right by the voice of the French nation, and while I wear a sword
      I will maintain it! The Bourbons ought to know that I do not fear them;
      let them, therefore, leave me in tranquillity. Did you say that the fools
      of the Faubourg St. Germain would multiply the copies of this protest of
      Comte de Lille? well, they shall read it at their ease. Send it to the
      Moniteur, Fouché; and let it be inserted to-morrow morning.'" This passed
      on the 30th of June, and the next day the protest of Louis XVIII. did
      actually appear in that paper.
    
"You can imagine my surprise," Fouché said, "you who know that in the past, just mentioning the Bourbons would infuriate Bonaparte, when, after reading the protest, he handed it back to me, saying, 'Ah, so the Comte de Lille is making his protest! Fine, fine, all in good time. I claim my right through the voice of the French nation, and as long as I carry a sword, I will defend it! The Bourbons should know that I’m not afraid of them; they should just leave me in peace. Did you say that the fools from Faubourg St. Germain would make copies of this protest by Comte de Lille? Well, they can read it at their leisure. Send it to the Moniteur, Fouché; and have it published tomorrow morning.'" This took place on June 30th, and the next day, Louis XVIII's protest actually appeared in that paper.







      Fouché was wholly indifferent respecting the circulation of this protest;
      he merely wished to show the Emperor that he was better informed of
      passing events than Regnier, and to afford Napoleon another proof of the
      inexperience and inability of the Grand Judge in police; and Fouché was
      not long in receiving the reward which he expected from this step. In
      fact, ten days after the publication of the protest, the Emperor announced
      to Regnier the re-establishment of the Ministry of General Police.
    
Fouché didn’t care much about how this protest was being spread; he just wanted to show the Emperor that he was more in the loop about current events than Regnier was, and to give Napoleon another example of the Grand Judge's lack of experience and skill in police matters. It didn’t take long for Fouché to get the reward he was hoping for from this move. In fact, ten days after the protest was published, the Emperor informed Regnier about the re-establishment of the Ministry of General Police.







      The formula, I Pray God to have you in His holy keeping, with which the
      letter to Regnier closed, was another step of Napoleon in the knowledge of
      ancient usages, with which he was not sufficiently familiar when he wrote
      Cambacérès on the day succeeding his elevation to the Imperial throne; at
      the same time it must be confessed that this formula assorted awkwardly
      with the month of "Messidor," and the "twelfth year of the Republic!"
    
The phrase, "I pray God to keep you in His holy protection," which ended the letter to Regnier, was another indication of Napoleon's growing understanding of old customs, which he hadn’t fully grasped when he wrote to Cambacérès the day after his rise to the Imperial throne. At the same time, it must be acknowledged that this phrase seemed out of place for the month of "Messidor" and the "twelfth year of the Republic!"







      The errors which Regnier had committed in the affair of Georges were the
      cause which determined Bonaparte to re-establish the Ministry of Police,
      and to bestow it on a man who had created a belief in the necessity of
      that measure, by a monstrous accumulation of plots and intrigues. I am
      also certain that the Emperor was swayed by the probability of a war
      breaking out, which would force him to leave France; and that he
      considered Fouché as the most proper person to maintain the public
      tranquillity during his absence, and detect any cabala that might be
      formed in favour of the Bourbons.
    
The mistakes Regnier made in the Georges situation led Bonaparte to restore the Ministry of Police and hand it over to someone who had made people believe that this was necessary through a huge amount of plots and schemes. I'm also sure that the Emperor was influenced by the likelihood of a war breaking out, which would require him to leave France; he thought Fouché was the best person to keep public order while he was away and to uncover any conspiracies that might support the Bourbons.







      At this period, when Bonaparte had given the finishing blow to the
      Republic, which had only been a shadow since the 19th Brumaire, it was not
      difficult to foresee that the Bourbons would one day remount the throne of
      their ancestors; and this presentiment was not, perhaps, without its
      influence in rendering the majority greater in favour of the foundation of
      the Empire than for the establishment of a Consulate for life. The
      reestablishment of the throne was a most important step in favour of the
      Bourbons, for that was the thing most difficult to be done. But Bonaparte
      undertook the task; and, as if by the aid of a magic rod, the ancient
      order of things was restored in the twinkling of an eye. The distinctions
      of rank—orders—titles, the noblesse—decorations—all
      the baubles of vanity—in short, all the burlesque tattooing which
      the vulgar regard as an indispensable attribute of royalty, reappeared in
      an instant. The question no longer regarded the form of government, but
      the individual who should be placed at its head. By restoring the ancient
      order of things, the Republicans had themselves decided the question, and
      it could no longer be doubted that when an occasion presented itself the
      majority of the nation would prefer the ancient royal family, to whom
      France owed her civilisation, her greatness, and her power, and who had
      exalted her to such a high degree of glory and prosperity.
    
At this time, after Bonaparte dealt a final blow to the Republic, which had only been a shadow since the 19th Brumaire, it was easy to see that the Bourbons would eventually return to the throne of their ancestors. This feeling probably contributed to the majority leaning more towards establishing the Empire than a lifetime Consulate. Restoring the throne was a significant step for the Bourbons, as it was the most challenging task. But Bonaparte took it on; and as if by magic, the old order was restored in the blink of an eye. The distinctions of rank—orders, titles, nobility, decorations—all the trappings of vanity—basically, all the ridiculous symbols that people consider essential to royalty—came back instantly. The debate shifted from the type of government to who would lead it. By bringing back the old order, the Republicans settled the issue themselves, and it was clear that when the time came, most of the nation would prefer the old royal family, to whom France owed her civilization, greatness, and power, and who had elevated her to such a high level of glory and prosperity.







      It was not one of the least singular traits in Napoleon's character that
      during the first year of his reign he retained the fete of the 14th of
      July. It was not indeed strictly a Republican fate, but it recalled the
      recollection of two great popular triumphs,—the taking of the
      Bastille and the first Federation. This year the 14th of July fell on a
      Saturday, and the Emperor ordered its celebration to be delayed till the
      following day, because it was Sunday; which was in conformity with the
      sentiments he delivered respecting the Concordat. "What renders me," he
      said, "most hostile to the re-establishment of the Catholic worship is the
      number of festivals formerly observed. A saint's day is a day of
      indolence, and I wish not for that; the people must labour in order to
      live. I consent to four holidays in the year, but no more; if the
      gentlemen from Rome are not satisfied with this, they may take their
      departure."
    
One of the most unique traits of Napoleon's character was that during the first year of his reign, he kept the celebration of July 14th. While it wasn't strictly a Republican holiday, it brought to mind two major popular victories—the storming of the Bastille and the first Federation. This year, July 14th fell on a Saturday, and the Emperor decided to push the celebration to the next day because it was Sunday; this aligned with the sentiments he expressed about the Concordat. "What makes me," he said, "most opposed to bringing back Catholic worship is the number of festivals that used to be held. A saint's day is a day of laziness, and I don’t want that; the people need to work to survive. I agree to four holidays a year, but no more; if the people from Rome aren't happy with this, they can leave."







      The loss of time seemed to him so great a calamity that he seldom failed
      to order an indispensable solemnity to be held on the succeeding holiday.
      Thus he postponed the Corpus Christi to the following Sunday.
    
The loss of time felt like such a huge disaster to him that he almost always made sure to arrange an important ceremony for the next holiday. So, he moved the Corpus Christi celebration to the following Sunday.







      On Sunday, the 15th of July 1804, the Emperor appeared for the first time
      before the Parisians surrounded by all the pomp of royalty. The members of
      the Legion of Honour, then in Paris, took the oath prescribed by the new
      Constitution, and on this occasion the Emperor and Empress appeared
      attended for the first time by a separate and numerous retinue.
    
On Sunday, July 15, 1804, the Emperor made his first appearance before the people of Paris, surrounded by all the grandeur of royalty. The members of the Legion of Honour, who were in Paris at the time, took the oath required by the new Constitution. On this occasion, the Emperor and Empress were attended for the first time by a separate and large entourage.







      The carriages in the train of the Empress crossed the garden of the
      Tuileries, hitherto exclusively appropriated to the public; then followed
      the cavalcade of the Emperor, who appeared on horseback, surrounded by his
      principal generals, whom he had created Marshals of the Empire. M. de
      Segur, who held the office of Grand Master of Ceremonies, had the
      direction of the ceremonial to be observed on this occasion, and with, the
      Governor received the Emperor on the threshold of the Hotel des Invalides.
      They conducted the Empress to a tribune prepared for her reception,
      opposite the Imperial throne which Napoleon alone occupied, to the right
      of the altar. I was present at this ceremony, notwithstanding the
      repugnance I have to such brilliant exhibitions; but as Duroc had two days
      before presented me with tickets, I deemed it prudent to attend on the
      occasion, lest the keen eye of Bonaparte should have remarked my absence
      if Duroc had acted by his order.
    
The carriages of the Empress's train crossed the garden of the Tuileries, which had previously been for the public only; then came the Emperor's procession, where he appeared on horseback, surrounded by his main generals, whom he had made Marshals of the Empire. M. de Segur, who served as the Grand Master of Ceremonies, oversaw the event's protocol, and along with the Governor, welcomed the Emperor at the entrance of the Hotel des Invalides. They took the Empress to a platform set up for her, directly opposite the Imperial throne that Napoleon occupied alone, to the right of the altar. I was there for this ceremony, despite my dislike for such flashy events; but since Duroc had given me tickets two days earlier, I thought it wise to attend, in case Bonaparte's sharp eye noticed my absence if Duroc had acted on his orders.







      I spent about an hour contemplating the proud and sometimes almost
      ludicrous demeanour of the new grandees of the Empire; I marked the
      manoeuvring of the clergy, who, with Cardinal Belloy at their head,
      proceeded to receive the Emperor on his entrance into the church. What a
      singular train of ideas was called up to my mind when I beheld my former
      comrade at the school of Brienne seated upon an elevated throne,
      surrounded by his brilliant staff, the great dignitaries of his Empire—his
      Ministers and Marshals! I involuntarily recurred to the 19th Brumaire, and
      all this splendid scene vanished; when I thought of Bonaparte stammering
      to such a degree that I was obliged to pull the skirt of his coat to
      induce him to withdraw.
    
I spent about an hour thinking about the proud and sometimes almost ridiculous behavior of the new elite of the Empire; I noticed the clergy, led by Cardinal Belloy, getting ready to welcome the Emperor as he entered the church. A peculiar mix of thoughts flooded my mind when I saw my former classmate from the Brienne school sitting on a raised throne, surrounded by his impressive team, the top officials of his Empire—his Ministers and Marshals! I couldn't help but remember the 19th Brumaire, and suddenly this grand scene faded away; when I thought of Bonaparte struggling to speak so much that I had to tug on the back of his coat to get him to leave.







      It was neither a feeling of animosity nor of jealousy which called up such
      reflections; at no period of our career would I have exchanged my
      situation for his; but whoever can reflect, whoever has witnessed the
      unexpected elevation of a former equal, may perhaps be able to conceive
      the strange thoughts that assailed my mind, for the first time, on this
      occasion.
    
It wasn’t feelings of hostility or jealousy that prompted such thoughts; at no point in my career would I have traded my position for his. But anyone who can think back, anyone who has seen a former peer suddenly rise to a higher status, might understand the unusual thoughts that crossed my mind for the first time on this occasion.







      When the religious part of the ceremony terminated, the church assumed, in
      some measure, the appearance of a profane temple. The congregation
      displayed more devotion to the Emperor than towards the God of the
      Christians,—more enthusiasm than fervour. The mass had been heard
      with little attention; but when M. de Lacepede, Grand Chancellor of the
      Legion of Honour, after pronouncing a flattering discourse, finished the
      call of the Grand Officers of the Legion, Bonaparte covered, as did the
      ancient kings of France when they held a bed of justice. A profound
      silence, a sort of religious awe, then reigned throughout the assembly,
      and Napoleon, who did not now stammer as in the Council of the Five
      Hundred, said in a firm voice:
    
When the religious part of the ceremony ended, the church somewhat resembled a secular venue. The congregation showed more devotion to the Emperor than to the God of Christians—more excitement than true passion. The mass had been attended to with little focus; but when M. de Lacepede, Grand Chancellor of the Legion of Honour, finished a flattering speech and called the Grand Officers of the Legion, Bonaparte took his place like the ancient kings of France during a bed of justice. A deep silence, a kind of religious awe, settled over the crowd, and Napoleon, no longer stammering as he had in the Council of the Five Hundred, spoke in a steady voice:







      "Commanders, officers, legionaries, citizens, soldiers; swear upon your
      honour to devote yourselves to the service of the Empire—to the
      preservation of the integrity of the French territory—to the defence
      of the Emperor, of the laws of the Republic, and of the property which
      they have made sacred—to combat by all the means which justice,
      reason, and the laws authorise every attempt to reestablish the feudal
      system; in short, swear to concur with all your might in maintaining
      liberty and equality, which are the bases of all our institutions. Do you
      swear?"
    
"Commanders, officers, soldiers, citizens; pledge your honor to serve the Empire—to protect the integrity of French territory—to defend the Emperor, the laws of the Republic, and the properties they have made sacred—to fight by all means authorized by justice, reason, and the law against any attempts to restore the feudal system; in short, vow to do everything you can to uphold liberty and equality, which are the foundations of all our institutions. Do you swear?"







      Each member of the Legion of Honour exclaimed, "I swear;" adding, "Vive
      l'Empereur!" with an enthusiasm it is impossible to describe, and in which
      all present joined.
    
Each member of the Legion of Honour shouted, "I swear," followed by "Long live the Emperor!" with an enthusiasm that’s hard to describe, and everyone present joined in.







      What, after all, was this new oath? It only differed from that taken by
      the Legion of Honour, under the Consulate, in putting the defence of the
      Emperor before that of the laws of the Republic; and this was not merely a
      form. It was, besides, sufficiently laughable and somewhat audacious, to
      make them swear to support equality at the moment so many titles and
      monarchical distinctions had been re-established.
    
What was this new oath, anyway? It was just different from the one taken by the Legion of Honour during the Consulate in that it prioritized defending the Emperor over the laws of the Republic; and this wasn’t just a matter of wording. It was also pretty ridiculous and a bit audacious to have them swear to uphold equality when so many titles and royal distinctions had just been reinstated.







      On the 18th of July, three days after this ceremony, the Emperor left
      Paris to visit the camp at Boulogne. He was not accompanied by the Empress
      on this journey, which was merely to examine the progress of the military
      operations. Availing myself of the invitation Josephine had given me, I
      presented myself at St. Cloud a few days after the departure of Napoleon;
      as she did not expect my visit, I found her surrounded by four or five of
      the ladies in waiting, occupied in examining some of the elegant productions
      of the famous Leroi and Madame Despeaux; for amidst the host of painful
      feelings experienced by Josephine she was too much of a woman not to
      devote some attention to the toilet.
    
On July 18th, three days after the ceremony, the Emperor left Paris to check on the camp at Boulogne. He wasn’t accompanied by the Empress on this trip, which was just to see how the military operations were going. Taking advantage of the invitation Josephine had given me, I showed up at St. Cloud a few days after Napoleon left; since she didn’t expect my visit, I found her surrounded by four or five ladies in waiting, busy looking at some of the beautiful creations by the famous Leroi and Madame Despeaux. Despite the many painful feelings Josephine was dealing with, she was too much of a woman not to pay some attention to her appearance.







      On my introduction they were discussing the serious question of the
      costume to be worn by the Empress on her journey to Belgium to meet
      Napoleon at the Palace of Lacken, near Brussels. Notwithstanding those
      discussions respecting the form of hats, the colour and shape of dresses,
      etc., Josephine received me in her usual gracious manner. But not being
      able to converse with me, she said, without giving it an appearance of
      invitation but in a manner sufficiently evident to be understood, that she
      intended to pass the following morning at Malmaison.
    
When I arrived, they were talking about the important issue of what costume the Empress should wear on her trip to Belgium to meet Napoleon at the Palace of Lacken, near Brussels. Despite all the discussions about hat styles, colors, and dress shapes, Josephine welcomed me graciously as usual. However, since she couldn’t talk to me, she indicated in a way that wasn’t quite an invitation, but clear enough to be understood, that she planned to spend the next morning at Malmaison.







      I shortened my visit, and at noon next day repaired to that delightful
      abode, which always created in my mind deep emotion. Not an alley, not a
      grove but teemed with interesting recollections; all recalled to me the
      period when I was the confidant of Bonaparte. But the time was past when
      he minutely calculated how much a residence at Malmaison would cost, and
      concluded by saying that an income of 30,000 livres would be necessary.
    
I cut my visit short, and by noon the next day, I went to that lovely place, which always stirred deep feelings in me. Every path, every grove was full of fascinating memories; they all reminded me of the time when I was close to Bonaparte. But that time had gone when he meticulously figured out how much it would cost to live at Malmaison, ultimately deciding that an income of 30,000 livres would be necessary.







      When I arrived Madame Bonaparte was in the garden with Madame de Rémusat,
      who was her favourite from the similarity of disposition which existed
      between them.
    
When I arrived, Madame Bonaparte was in the garden with Madame de Rémusat, who was her favorite due to their similar personalities.







      Madame de Rémusat was the daughter of the Minister Vergennes, and sister
      to Madame de Nansouty, whom I had sometimes seen with Josephine, but not
      so frequently as her elder sister. I found the ladies in the avenue which
      leads to Ruel, and saluted Josephine by inquiring respecting the health of
      Her Majesty. Never can I forget the tone in which she replied: "Ah!
      Bourrienne, I entreat that you will suffer me, at least here, to forget
      that I am an Empress." As she had not a thought concealed from Madame de
      Rémusat except some domestic vexations, of which probably I was the only
      confidant, we conversed with the same freedom as if alone, and it is easy
      to define that the subject of our discourse regarded Bonaparte.
    
Madame de Rémusat was the daughter of Minister Vergennes and the sister of Madame de Nansouty, whom I had occasionally seen with Josephine, but not as often as her older sister. I met the ladies on the avenue leading to Ruel and greeted Josephine by asking about Her Majesty’s health. I will never forget the way she responded: "Ah! Bourrienne, I beg you to let me at least forget here that I am an Empress." Since she had no thoughts hidden from Madame de Rémusat except for some personal troubles, which I was probably the only one she confided in, we spoke as freely as if we were alone, and it was clear that our conversation was about Bonaparte.







      After having spoken of her intended journey to Belgium, Josephine said to
      me, "What a pity, Bourrienne, that the past cannot be recalled! He
      departed in the happiest disposition: he has bestowed some pardons and I
      am satisfied that but for those accursed politics he would have pardoned a
      far greater number. I would have said much more, but I endeavoured to
      conceal my chagrin because the slightest contradiction only renders him
      the more obstinate. Now, when in the midst of his army, he will forget
      everything. How much have I been afflicted that I was not able to obtain a
      favourable answer to all the petitions which were addressed to me. That
      good Madame de Monteason came from Romainville to St. Cloud to solicit the
      pardon of MM. de Riviere and de Polignac; we succeeded in gaining an
      audience for Madame de Polignac; . . . how beautiful she is! Bonaparte was
      greatly affected on beholding her; he said to her, 'Madame, since it was
      only my life your husband menaced, I may pardon him.' You know Napoleon,
      Bourrienne; you know that he is not naturally cruel; it is his counsellors
      and flatterers who have induced him to commit so many villainous actions.
      Rapp has behaved extremely well; he went to the Emperor, and would not
      leave him till he had obtained the pardon of another of the condemned,
      whose name I do not recollect. How much these Polignacs have interested
      me! There will be then at least some families who will owe him gratitude!
      Strive, if it be possible, to throw a veil over the past; I am
      sufficiently miserable in my anticipations of the future. Rest assured, my
      dear Bourrienne, that I shall not fail to exert myself during our stay in
      Belgium in your behalf, and inform you of the result. Adieu!"
    
After talking about her upcoming trip to Belgium, Josephine said to me, "It's so unfortunate, Bourrienne, that we can't look back on the past! He left in such a good mood: he granted some pardons, and I'm sure that if it weren't for those awful politics, he would have granted even more. I wanted to say so much more, but I tried to hide my disappointment because just the slightest disagreement makes him more stubborn. Now, surrounded by his army, he’ll forget everything. I’ve been so distressed that I couldn’t get a positive response to all the requests that were sent to me. That kind Madame de Monteason traveled from Romainville to St. Cloud to ask for pardons for MM. de Riviere and de Polignac; we managed to get an audience for Madame de Polignac; … she’s so beautiful! Bonaparte was really touched when he saw her; he told her, 'Madame, since it was only my life your husband threatened, I may pardon him.' You know Napoleon, Bourrienne; you know he’s not naturally cruel; it’s his advisors and sycophants who have led him to commit so many terrible acts. Rapp has acted very well; he went to the Emperor and wouldn’t leave until he secured the pardon of another condemned man, whose name I can’t remember. I care so much about these Polignacs! There will be at least some families who will be grateful to him! Try, if you can, to put the past behind us; I’m already miserable enough thinking about the future. Rest assured, my dear Bourrienne, that I will do my best during our time in Belgium for you and let you know how it goes. Goodbye!"







      During the festival in celebration of the 14th of July, which I have
      already alluded to, the Emperor before leaving the Hotel des Invalides had
      announced that he would go in person to distribute the decorations of the
      Legion of Honour to the army assembled in the camp of Boulogne. He was not
      long before he fulfilled his promise. He left St. Cloud on the 18th and
      travelled with such rapidity that the next morning, whilst every one was
      busy with preparations for his reception, he was already at that port, in
      the midst of the labourers, examining the works. He seemed to multiply
      himself by his inconceivable activity, and one might say that he was
      present everywhere.
    
During the festival celebrating July 14th, which I've already mentioned, the Emperor announced before leaving the Hotel des Invalides that he would personally hand out the decorations of the Legion of Honour to the army gathered at the camp in Boulogne. He quickly kept his promise. He left St. Cloud on the 18th and traveled so fast that by the next morning, while everyone was busy getting ready for his arrival, he was already at the port, among the workers, inspecting the projects. He seemed to be everywhere at once due to his incredible energy.







      At the Emperor's departure it was generally believed at Paris that the
      distribution of the crosses at the camp of Boulogne was only a pretext,
      and that Bonaparte had at length gone to carry into execution the project
      of an invasion of England, which every body supposed he contemplated. It
      was, indeed, a pretext. The Emperor wished to excite more and more the
      enthusiasm of the army—to show himself to the military invested in
      his new dignity, to be present at some grand manoeuvres, and dispose the
      army to obey the first signal he might give. How indeed, on beholding such
      great preparations, so many transports created, as it were, by
      enchantment, could any one have supposed that he did not really intend to
      attempt a descent on England? People almost fancied him already in London;
      it was known that all the army corps echelloned on the coast from Maples
      to Ostend were ready to embark. Napoleon's arrival in the midst of his
      troops inspired them, if possible, with a new impulse. The French ports on
      the Channel had for a long period been converted into dockyards and
      arsenals, where works were carried on with that inconceivable activity
      which Napoleon knew so well how to inspire. An almost incredible degree of
      emulation prevailed amongst the commanders of the different camps, and it
      descended from rank to rank to the common soldiers and even to the
      labourers.
    
When the Emperor left, people in Paris widely believed that the awarding of medals at the Boulogne camp was just a cover story and that Bonaparte had finally set out to carry out his plan to invade England, which everyone thought he was considering. In reality, it was just a cover. The Emperor wanted to further boost the army's enthusiasm—to present himself to the military invested in his new position, to be part of some grand maneuvers, and to prepare the army to respond to his first call. With such significant preparations and so many ships being readied, it was hard to imagine that he didn't genuinely plan to attempt a landing in England. People almost envisioned him already in London; it was known that all the army corps stationed along the coast from Maples to Ostend were ready to embark. Napoleon’s presence among his troops inspired them, if possible, with renewed vigor. The French ports on the Channel had long been transformed into shipyards and arsenals, where work was done with an incredible intensity that Napoleon knew how to inspire. An almost unbelievable spirit of competition existed among the commanders of the different camps, and it trickled down to the common soldiers and even the laborers.







      As every one was eager to take advantage of the slightest effects of
      chance, and exercised his ingenuity in converting them into prognostics of
      good fortune for the Emperor, those who had access to him did not fail to
      call his attention to some remains of a Roman camp which had been
      discovered at the Tour d'Ordre, where the Emperor's tent was pitched. This
      was considered an evident proof that the French Caesar occupied the camp
      which the Roman Caesar had formerly constructed to menace Great Britain.
      To give additional force to this allusion, the Tour d'Ordre resumed the
      name of Caesar's Tower. Some medals of William the Conqueror, found in
      another spot, where, perhaps, they had been buried for the purpose of
      being dug up, could not fail to satisfy the most incredulous that Napoleon
      must conquer England.
    
As everyone was eager to take advantage of even the slightest chance events and used their creativity to turn them into signs of good luck for the Emperor, those who were close to him didn't miss the opportunity to point out some remains of a Roman camp that had been discovered at the Tour d'Ordre, where the Emperor's tent was set up. This was seen as clear proof that the French Caesar was occupying the camp that the Roman Caesar had previously built to threaten Great Britain. To strengthen this reference, the Tour d'Ordre was renamed Caesar's Tower. Some medals of William the Conqueror, found in another location, where they might have been buried with the intent of being uncovered, undoubtedly reassured even the most skeptical that Napoleon would conquer England.







      It was not far from Caesar's Tower that 80,000 men of the camps of
      Boulogne and Montreuil, under the command of Marshal Soult, were assembled
      in a vast plain to witness the distribution of the crosses of the Legion
      of Honour impressed with the Imperial effigy. This plain, which I saw with
      Bonaparte in our first journey to the coast, before our departure to
      Egypt, was circular and hollow; and in the centre was a little hill. This
      hill formed the Imperial throne of Bonaparte in the midst of his soldiers.
      There he stationed himself with his staff and around this centre of glory
      the regiments were drawn up in lines and looked like so many diverging
      rays. From this throne, which had been erected by the hand of nature,
      Bonaparte delivered in a loud voice the same form of oath which he had
      pronounced at the Hotel des Invalides a few days before. It was the signal
      for a general burst of enthusiasm, and Rapp, alluding to this ceremony,
      told me that he never saw the Emperor appear more pleased. How could he be
      otherwise? Fortune then seemed obedient to his wishes. A storm came on
      during this brilliant day, and it was apprehended that part of the
      flotilla would have suffered.
    
Not far from Caesar's Tower, 80,000 soldiers from the camps of Boulogne and Montreuil, commanded by Marshal Soult, gathered in a large plain to see the distribution of the crosses of the Legion of Honour, marked with the Imperial seal. This plain, which I visited with Bonaparte on our first trip to the coast before heading to Egypt, was circular and sunken, with a small hill in the center. This hill served as Bonaparte’s Imperial throne amidst his soldiers. He took his place there with his staff, and around this center of glory, the regiments were lined up like rays of light. From this natural throne, Bonaparte loudly recited the same oath he had taken at the Hotel des Invalides just days earlier. This marked the start of a huge outburst of enthusiasm, and Rapp remarked that he had never seen the Emperor look more satisfied. How could he not be? Luck seemed to be on his side. A storm broke out during this brilliant day, raising concerns that part of the flotilla might have been damaged.







      Bonaparte quitted the hill from which he had distributed the crosses and
      proceeded to the port to direct what measures should be taken, when upon
      his arrival the storm—
    
Bonaparte left the hill where he had handed out the crosses and went to the port to oversee what actions needed to be taken. When he arrived, the storm—






 —[The following description of the incident when Napoleon nearly
   occasioned the destruction of the Boulogne flotilla was forwarded to
   the 'Revue Politique et Litteraire' from a private memoir. The
   writer, who was an eye-witness, says—

   One morning, when the Emperor was mounting his horse, he announced
   that he intended to hold a review of his naval forces, and gave the
   order that the vessels which lay in the harbour should alter their
   positions, as the review was to be held on the open sea. He started
   on his usual ride, giving orders that everything should be arranged
   on his return, the time of which he indicated. His wish was
   communicated to Admiral Bruix, who responded with imperturbable
   coolness that he was very sorry, but that the review could not take
   place that day. Consequently not a vessel was moved. On his return
   back from his ride the Emperor asked whether all was ready. He was
   told what the Admiral had said. Twice the answer had to be repeated
   to him before he could realise its nature, and then, violently
   stamping his foot on the ground, he sent for the Admiral. The
   Emperor met him halfway. With eyes burning with rage, he exclaimed
   in an excited voice, "Why have my orders not been executed?" With
   respectful firmness Admiral Bruix replied, "Sire, a terrible storm
   is brewing. Your Majesty may convince yourself of it; would you
   without need expose the lives of so many men?" The heaviness of the
   atmosphere and the sound of thunder in the distance more than
   justified the fears of the Admiral. "Sir, said the Emperor, getting
   more and more irritated, "I have given the orders once more; why
   have they not been executed? The consequences concern me alone.
   Obey!" 'Sire, I will not obey,' replied the Admiral. "You are
   insolent!" And the Emperor, who still held his riding-whip in his
   hand, advanced towards the admiral with a threatening gesture.
   Admiral Bruix stepped back and put his hand on the sheath of his
   sword and said, growing very pale, "sire, take care!" The whole
   suite stood paralysed with fear. The Emperor remained motionless
   for some time, his hand lifted up, his eyes fixed on the Admiral,
   who still retained his menacing attitude. At last the Emperor threw
   his whip on the floor. M. Bruix took his hand off his sword, and
   with uncovered head awaited in silence the result of the painful
   scene. Rear-Admiral Magon was then ordered to see that the
   Emperor's orders were instantly executed. "As for you, sir," said
   the Emperor, fixing his eyes on Admiral Bruix, you leave Boulogne
   within twenty-four hours and depart for Holland. Go!" M. Magon
   ordered the fatal movement of the fleet on which the Emperor had
   insisted. The first arrangements had scarcely been made when the
   sea became very high. The black sky was pierced by lightning, the
   thunder rolled and every moment the line of vessels was broken by
   the wind, and shortly after, that which the Admiral had foreseen
   came to pass, and the most frightful storm dispersed the vessels in
   each a way that it seamed impossible to save them. With bent head,
   arms crossed, and a sorrowful look in his face, the Emperor walked
   up and down on the beach, when suddenly the most terrible cries were
   heard. More than twenty gunboats filled with soldiers and sailors
   were being driven towards the shore, and the unfortunate men were
   vainly fighting against the furious waves, calling for help which
   nobody could give them. Deeply touched by the spectacle and the
   heart-rending cries and lamentations of the multitude which had
   assembled on the beach, the Emperor, seeing his generals and
   officers tremble with horror, attempted to set an example of
   devotion, and, in spite of all efforts to keep him back, he threw
   himself into a boat, saying, "Let me go! let me go! they must be
   brought out of this." In a moment the boat was filled with water.
   The waves poured over it again and again, and the Emperor was
   drenched. One wave larger than the others almost threw him
   overboard and his hat was carried sway. Inspired by so much
   courage, officers, soldiers, seamen, and citizens tried to succour
   the drowning, some in boats, some swimming. But, alas! only a small
   number could be saved of the unfortunate men. The following day
   more than 200 bodies were thrown ashore, and with them the hat of
   the conqueror of Marengo. That sad day was one of desolation for
   Boulogne and for the camp. The Emperor groaned under the burden of
   an accident which he had to attribute solely to his own obstinacy.
   Agents were despatched to all parts of the town to subdue with gold
   the murmurs which were ready to break out into a tumult.]— 
 —[The following description of the incident when Napoleon almost caused the destruction of the Boulogne flotilla was sent to the 'Revue Politique et Littéraire' from a private memoir. The writer, who witnessed the event, says—

   One morning, as the Emperor was getting on his horse, he announced that he planned to hold a review of his naval forces and ordered the ships in the harbor to change their positions because the review was to take place in open sea. He went on his usual ride, instructing that everything should be prepared for his return, the timing of which he specified. His request was communicated to Admiral Bruix, who calmly replied that he was very sorry, but the review couldn’t occur that day. As a result, no ship was moved. Upon returning from his ride, the Emperor asked if everything was ready. He was informed of the Admiral's response. The answer had to be repeated twice before he understood, and then, stamping his foot on the ground in anger, he called for the Admiral. The Emperor met him halfway. With eyes blazing with rage, he shouted, "Why have my orders not been followed?" With respectful firmness, Admiral Bruix replied, "Sire, a terrible storm is approaching. You can see for yourself; would you endanger so many lives unnecessarily?" The heavy atmosphere and distant thunder clearly supported the Admiral's concerns. "Sir," the Emperor said, growing increasingly irritated, "I have given the orders again; why were they not executed? The consequences are my responsibility alone. Obey!" "Sire, I will not obey," the Admiral replied. "You are insolent!" And the Emperor, still holding his riding whip, moved towards the Admiral with a threatening gesture. Admiral Bruix stepped back, placed his hand on his sword’s sheath, and said, turning pale, "Sire, be careful!" The entire entourage was frozen in fear. The Emperor stood still for a moment, his hand raised, his eyes locked on the Admiral, who maintained his threatening posture. Finally, the Emperor threw his whip to the ground. M. Bruix removed his hand from his sword, and with his head uncovered, awaited the outcome of the tense scene in silence. Rear-Admiral Magon was then ordered to ensure the Emperor's commands were carried out immediately. "As for you, sir," the Emperor said, fixing his gaze on Admiral Bruix, "you will leave Boulogne within twenty-four hours and go to Holland. Go!" M. Magon ordered the disastrous movement of the fleet that the Emperor had insisted on. The initial arrangements were barely made when the sea became very rough. The dark sky flashed with lightning, thunder rolled, and at any moment, the line of ships was disrupted by the wind. Soon after, the Admiral's fears came true, and a horrific storm scattered the vessels in such a way that it seemed impossible to save them. With his head down, arms crossed, and a pained expression, the Emperor walked along the beach, when suddenly, terrible cries were heard. More than twenty gunboats filled with soldiers and sailors were being pushed towards the shore, and the unfortunate men were desperately fighting against the raging waves, calling for help that no one could provide. Deeply affected by the sight and the heartbreaking cries of the crowd gathered on the beach, the Emperor, seeing his generals and officers trembling with horror, tried to set an example of bravery and, despite efforts to hold him back, jumped into a boat, shouting, "Let me go! Let me go! They must be saved!" In an instant, the boat was swamped with water. The waves crashed over it repeatedly, soaking the Emperor. One particularly large wave nearly threw him overboard, and his hat was swept away. Inspired by his courage, officers, soldiers, sailors, and citizens attempted to rescue the drowning, some in boats, others swimming. But, sadly, only a few of the unfortunate men could be saved. The next day, more than 200 bodies washed ashore, along with the hat of the conqueror of Marengo. That tragic day was one of sorrow for Boulogne and for the camp. The Emperor mourned the burden of an incident he could only attribute to his own stubbornness. Agents were sent throughout the town to quell the murmurs that were ready to erupt into a riot.]—







      —ceased as if by enchantment. The flotilla entered the port safe and
      sound and he went back to the camp, where the sports and amusements
      prepared for the soldiers commenced, and in the evening the brilliant
      fireworks which were let off rose in a luminous column, which was
      distinctly seen from the English coast.—[It appears that Napoleon
      was so well able to cover up this fiasco that not even Bourrienne ever
      heard the true story. D.W.]
    
—stopped as if by magic. The fleet arrived at the port safe and sound, and he returned to the camp, where the games and activities planned for the soldiers began. In the evening, the spectacular fireworks that were set off created a glowing column, clearly visible from the English coast.—[It seems that Napoleon was so skilled at hiding this disaster that not even Bourrienne ever learned the real story. D.W.]







      When he reviewed the troops he asked the officers, and often the soldiers,
      in what battles they had been engaged, and to those who had received
      serious wounds he gave the cross. Here, I think, I may appropriately
      mention a singular piece of charlatanism to which the Emperor had
      recourse, and which powerfully contributed to augment the enthusiasm of
      his troops. He would say to one of his aides de camp, "Ascertain from the
      colonel of such a regiment whether he has in his corps a man who has
      served in the campaigns of Italy or the campaigns of Egypt. Ascertain his
      name, where he was born, the particulars of his family, and what he has
      done. Learn his number in the ranks, and to what company he belongs, and
      furnish me with the information."
    
When he reviewed the troops, he asked the officers and often the soldiers about the battles they had fought in, and he awarded the cross to those who had suffered serious injuries. Here, I should mention a unique trick that the Emperor used, which significantly boosted the enthusiasm of his troops. He would tell one of his aides, "Find out from the colonel of that regiment if there’s a man in his unit who served in the campaigns in Italy or Egypt. Get his name, where he was born, the details of his family, and what he accomplished. Find out his rank number and which company he belongs to, and give me the information."







      On the day of the review Bonaparte, at a single glance, could perceive the
      man who had been described to him. He would go up to him as if he
      recognised him, address him by his name, and say, "Oh! so you are here!
      You are a brave fellow—I saw you at Aboukir—how is your old
      father? What! have you not got the Cross? Stay, I will give it you." Then
      the delighted soldiers would say to each other, "You see the Emperor knows
      us all; he knows our families; he knows where we have served." What a
      stimulus was this to soldiers, whom he succeeded in persuading that they
      would all some time or other become Marshals of the Empire!
    
On the day of the review, Bonaparte could instantly recognize the man who had been described to him. He approached him as if they were already acquainted, called him by name, and said, "Oh! So you're here! You're a brave guy—I saw you at Aboukir—how's your dad? What! You haven't gotten the Cross yet? Hold on, I'll take care of that for you." The thrilled soldiers would then say to each other, "See? The Emperor knows us all; he knows our families; he knows where we've served." What a boost this was for the soldiers, whom he managed to convince would eventually all become Marshals of the Empire!







      Lauriston told me, amongst other anecdotes relating to Napoleon's sojourn
      at the camp at Boulogne, a remarkable instance of intrepidity on the part
      of two English sailors. These men had been prisoners at Verdun, which was
      the most considerable depot of English prisoners in France at the rupture
      of the peace of Amiens. They effected their escape from Verdun, and
      arrived at Boulogne without having been discovered on the road,
      notwithstanding the vigilance with which all the English were watched.
      They remained at Boulogne for some time, destitute of money, and without
      being able to effect their escape. They had no hope of getting aboard a
      boat, on account of the strict watch that was kept upon vessels of every
      kind. These two sailors made a boat of little pieces of wood, which they
      put together as well as they could, having no other tools than their
      knives. They covered it with a piece of sail-cloth. It was only three or
      four feet wide, and not much longer, and was so light that a man could
      easily carry it on his shoulders,—so powerful a passion is the love
      of home and liberty! Sure of being shot if they were discovered, almost
      equally sure of being drowned if they effected their escape, they,
      nevertheless, resolved to attempt crossing the Channel in their fragile
      skiff. Perceiving an English frigate within sight of the coast, they
      pushed off and endeavoured to reach her. They had not gone a hundred
      toises from the shore when they were perceived by the custom-house
      officers, who set out in pursuit of them, and brought them back again. The
      news of this adventure spread through the camp, where the extraordinary
      courage of the two sailors was the subject of general remark. The
      circumstance reached the Emperor's ears. He wished to see the men, and
      they were conducted to his presence, along with their little boat.
      Napoleon, whose imagination was struck by everything extraordinary, could
      not conceal his surprise at so bold a project, undertaken with such feeble
      means of execution. "Is it really true," said the Emperor to them, "that
      you thought of crossing the sea in this?"—"Sire," said they, "if you
      doubt it, give us leave to go, and you shall see us depart."—"I
      will. You are bold and enterprising men—I admire courage wherever I
      meet it. But you shall not hazard your lives. You are at liberty; and more
      than that, I will cause you to be put on board an English ship. When you
      return to London tell how I esteem brave men, even when they are my
      enemies." Rapp, who with Lauriaton, Duroc, and many others were present at
      this scene, were not a little astonished at the Emperor's generosity. If
      the men had not been brought before him, they would have been shot as
      spies, instead of which they obtained their liberty, and Napoleon gave
      several pieces of gold to each. This circumstance was one of those which
      made the strongest impression on Napoleon, and he recollected it when at
      St. Helena, in one of his conversations with M. de Las Casas.
    
Lauriston shared with me, among other stories about Napoleon’s time at the camp in Boulogne, a remarkable tale of bravery from two English sailors. These men had been held as prisoners in Verdun, which was the main detention center for English prisoners in France when the peace of Amiens was broken. They managed to escape from Verdun and reached Boulogne without being caught along the way, despite how closely all the English were monitored. They stayed in Boulogne for a while, without any money and unable to escape. They had no chance of getting on a boat due to the strict watch over all vessels. The two sailors crafted a boat from small pieces of wood, assembling it as best they could with only their knives for tools. They covered it with a piece of sailcloth. It was only about three or four feet wide and not much longer, light enough for a man to carry it on his shoulders—so strong is the desire for home and freedom! Knowing they would be shot if caught and almost certain to drown if they succeeded, they nonetheless decided to try crossing the Channel in their fragile little boat. Spotting an English frigate close to the shore, they pushed off and tried to reach her. They hadn’t even traveled a hundred toises from the shoreline when the customs officers noticed them and gave chase, bringing them back. The story of their adventure spread throughout the camp, where the extraordinary courage of the two sailors was a hot topic of discussion. The news even reached the Emperor. He wanted to meet them, and they were brought before him along with their tiny boat. Napoleon, who was always captivated by anything extraordinary, couldn’t hide his astonishment at such a daring plan executed with such limited resources. "Is it really true," the Emperor asked them, "that you considered crossing the sea in this?"—"Sire," they replied, "if you doubt us, let us go, and you’ll see us leave."—"I will. You are bold and enterprising men—I admire courage wherever I find it. But you should not risk your lives. You are free; in fact, I will have you placed on an English ship. When you return to London, tell them how much I value brave men, even when they are my enemies." Rapp, along with Lauriston, Duroc, and several others present at that moment, were quite taken aback by the Emperor’s generosity. If the men hadn’t been brought to him, they would have been executed as spies; instead, they were granted their freedom, and Napoleon gave each of them several gold coins. This incident made a lasting impression on Napoleon, and he remembered it during his conversations with M. de Las Casas while at St. Helena.







      No man was ever so fond of contrasts as Bonaparte. He liked, above
      everything, to direct the affairs of war whilst seated in his easy chair,
      in the cabinet of St. Cloud, and to dictate in the camp his decrees
      relative to civil administration. Thus, at the camp of Boulogne, he
      founded the decennial premiums, the first distribution of which he
      intended should take place five years afterwards, on the anniversary of
      the 18th Brumaire, which was an innocent compliment to the date of the
      foundation of the Consular Republic. This measure also seemed to promise
      to the Republican calendar a longevity which it did not attain. All these
      little circumstances passed unobserved; but Bonaparte had so often
      developed to me his theory of the art of deceiving mankind that I knew
      their true value. It was likewise at the camp of Boulogne that, by a
      decree emanating from his individual will, he destroyed the noblest
      institution of the Republic, the Polytechnic School, by converting it into
      a purely military academy. He knew that in that sanctuary of high study a
      Republican spirit was fostered; and whilst I was with him he had often
      told me it was necessary that all schools, colleges, and establishments
      for public instruction should be subject to military discipline. I
      frequently endeavoured to controvert this idea, but without success.
    
No one loved contrasts more than Bonaparte. He enjoyed overseeing military operations while relaxing in his easy chair at the St. Cloud office, and issuing his orders regarding civil administration from the battlefield. At the Boulogne camp, he established the decennial premiums, planning for the first awards to take place five years later on the anniversary of the 18th Brumaire, which was a straightforward nod to the founding of the Consular Republic. This initiative also seemed to suggest a lasting future for the Republican calendar that it ultimately didn’t achieve. These little details went largely unnoticed; however, Bonaparte had often explained to me his strategy for tricking people, so I understood their true significance. It was also at the Boulogne camp that he, by his own decree, dismantled the Republic's finest institution, the Polytechnic School, turning it into a purely military academy. He knew that a Republican spirit thrived in that center of higher learning; during my time with him, he frequently insisted that all schools, colleges, and public education institutions should adhere to military discipline. I often tried to argue against this notion, but I was never successful.







      It was arranged that Josephine and the Emperor should meet in Belgium. He
      proceeded thither from the camp of Boulogne, to the astonishment of those
      who believed that the moment for the invasion of England had at length
      arrived. He joined the Empress at the Palace of Lacken, which the Emperor
      had ordered to be repaired and newly furnished with great magnificence.
    
It was decided that Josephine and the Emperor would meet in Belgium. He traveled there from the camp of Boulogne, surprising those who thought the time for the invasion of England had finally come. He met the Empress at the Palace of Lacken, which the Emperor had instructed to be renovated and newly decorated with great splendor.







      The Emperor continued his journey by the towns bordering on the Rhine. He
      stopped first in the town of Charlemagne, passed through the three
      bishoprics,
    
The Emperor continued his journey through the towns along the Rhine. He first stopped in the town of Charlemagne and then passed through the three bishoprics,






 —[There are two or three little circumstances in connection with
   this journey that seem worth inserting here:

   Mademoiselle Avrillion was the 'femme de chambre' of Josephine, and
   was constantly about her person from the time of the first
   Consulship to the death of the Empress in 1814. In all such matters
   as we shall quote from them, her memoirs seem worthy of credit.
   According to Mademoiselle, the Empress during her stay at Aix-la-
   Chapelle, drank the waters with much eagerness and some hope. As
   the theatre there was only supplied with some German singers who
   were not to Josephine's taste, she had part of a French operatic
   company sent to her from Paris. The amiable creole had always a
   most royal disregard of expense. When Bonaparte joined her, he
   renewed his old custom of visiting his wife now and then at her
   toilet, and according to Mademoiselle Avrillion, he took great
   interest in the subject of her dressing. She says, "It was a most
   extraordinary thing for us to see the man whose head was filled with
   such vast affairs enter into the most minute details of the female
   toilet and of what dresses, what robes, and what jewels the Empress
   should wear on such and such an occasion. One day he daubed her
   dress with ink because he did not like it, and wanted her to put on
   another. Whenever he looked into her wardrobe he was sure to throw
   everything topsy-turvy."

   This characteristic anecdote perfectly agrees with what we have
   heard from other persons. When the Neapolitan Princess di——- was
   at the Tuileries as 'dame d'honneur' to Bonaparte's sister Caroline
   Murat, then Queen of Naples, on the grand occasion of the marriage
   with Maria Louisa, the, Princess, to her astonishment, saw the
   Emperor go up to a lady of the Court and address her thus: "This is
   the same gown you wore the day before yesterday! What's the meaning
   of this, madame? This is not right, madame!"

   Josephine never gave him a similar cause of complaint, but even when
   he was Emperor she often made him murmur at the profusion of her
   expenditure under this head. The next anecdote will give some idea
   of the quantity of dresses which she wore for a day or so, and then
   gave away to her attendants, who appear to have carried on a very
   active trade in them.

   "While we were at Mayence the Palace was literally besieged by Jews,
   who continually brought manufactured and other goods to show to the
   followers of the Court; and we had the greatest difficulty to avoid
   buying them. At last they proposed that we should barter with them;
   and when Her Majesty had given us dresses that were far too rich for
   us to wear ourselves, we exchanged them with the Jews for
   piecegoods. The robes we thus bartered did not long remain in the
   hands of the Jews, and there must have been a great demand for them
   among the belles of Mayence, for I remember a ball there at which
   the Empress might have seen all the ladies of a quadrille party
   dressed in her cast-off clothes.—I even saw German Princesses
   wearing them" (Memoires de Mademoiselle Avrillion).]

 —[There are a couple of small details related to this journey that seem worth mentioning here:

   Mademoiselle Avrillion was Josephine's maid and was always around her from the time of the first Consulship until the Empress's death in 1814. In the anecdotes we quote, her memoirs appear to be reliable. According to Mademoiselle, during her stay in Aix-la-Chapelle, the Empress eagerly drank the waters there with some hope. Since the local theater only featured German singers that Josephine didn’t like, she arranged to have part of a French opera company sent to her from Paris. The charming Creole was known for her complete disregard for expense. When Bonaparte joined her, he resumed his old habit of visiting his wife occasionally while she was getting ready, and according to Mademoiselle Avrillion, he showed great interest in how she dressed. She notes, "It was quite remarkable for us to see a man occupied with such serious matters focus on the smallest details of women’s clothing—what dresses, what gowns, and what jewels the Empress should wear for various occasions. One day he smeared her dress with ink because he didn’t like it and wanted her to wear something else. Whenever he looked into her wardrobe, he would turn everything upside down."

   This amusing story aligns perfectly with what we’ve heard from others. When the Neapolitan Princess di—— was at the Tuileries as 'dame d'honneur' to Bonaparte's sister Caroline Murat, who was then Queen of Naples, during the grand occasion of the marriage to Maria Louisa, the Princess, to her surprise, witnessed the Emperor approach a lady of the Court and say, "This is the same dress you wore the day before yesterday! What’s the idea, madame? This isn't right, madame!"

   Josephine never gave him a similar reason to complain, but even when he was Emperor, she often made him grumble about her excessive spending on this matter. The next story gives an idea of the quantity of dresses she wore for just a day or two before giving them away to her attendants, who seemed to have carried on a very active trade with them.

   "While we were in Mayence, the Palace was practically besieged by Jews, who constantly brought manufactured and other goods to show to the Court’s followers; we had a hard time avoiding buying them. Eventually, they suggested we could barter with them; and when Her Majesty gave us dresses that were way too extravagant for us to wear ourselves, we exchanged them with the Jews for fabric. The gowns we traded didn’t stay long with the Jews, and demand among the fashionable women of Mayence must have been high because I remember a ball there where the Empress could have seen all the ladies of a quadrille wearing her discarded clothing.—I even saw German princesses in them" (Memoires de Mademoiselle Avrillion).]







      —on his way Cologne and Coblentz, which the emigration had rendered
      so famous, and arrived at Mayence, where his sojourn was distinguished by
      the first attempt at negotiation with the Holy See, in order to induce the
      Pope to come to France to crown the new Emperor, and consolidate his power
      by supporting it with the sanction of the Church. This journey of Napoleon
      occupied three months, and he did not return to St. Cloud till October.
      Amongst the flattering addresses which the Emperor received in the course
      of his journey I cannot pass over unnoticed the speech of M. de la Chaise,
      Prefect of Arras, who said, "God made Bonaparte, and then rested." This
      occasioned Comte Louis de Narbonne, who was not yet attached to the
      Imperial system, to remark "That it would have been well had God rested a
      little sooner."
    
—on his way to Cologne and Coblentz, which had become so famous due to emigration, he arrived in Mainz, where his stay was marked by the first attempt at negotiation with the Holy See, aiming to persuade the Pope to travel to France to crown the new Emperor and strengthen his power with the Church’s endorsement. This journey of Napoleon took three months, and he didn't return to St. Cloud until October. Among the flattering speeches the Emperor received on his journey, I can't ignore the remarks made by M. de la Chaise, Prefect of Arras, who said, "God created Bonaparte, and then took a break." This prompted Comte Louis de Narbonne, who was not yet part of the Imperial system, to comment, "It would have been better if God had taken a break a little sooner."







      During the Emperor's absence a partial change took place in the Ministry.
      M. de Champagny succeeded M. Chaptal as Minister of the Interior. At the
      camp of Boulogne the pacific Joseph found himself, by his brother's wish,
      transformed into a warrior, and placed in command of a regiment of
      dragoons, which was a subject of laughter with a great number of generals.
      I recollect that one day Lannes, speaking to me of the circumstance in his
      usual downright and energetic way, said, "He had better not place him
      under my orders, for upon the first fault I will put the scamp under
      arrest."
    
During the Emperor's absence, a partial change happened in the Ministry. M. de Champagny took over from M. Chaptal as Minister of the Interior. At the camp in Boulogne, the peaceful Joseph found himself, at his brother's request, turned into a warrior and put in charge of a regiment of dragoons, which made many generals laugh. I remember one day Lannes, speaking to me about this situation in his usual direct and forceful manner, said, "He better not put him under my command, because at the first mistake, I'll have that rascal arrested."








 


 




















      CHAPTER XXIX.
    



      1804.
    
1804.


   England deceived by Napoleon—Admirals Missiessy and Villeneuve—
   Command given to Lauriston—Napoleon's opinion of Madame de Stael—
   Her letters to Napoleon—Her enthusiasm converted into hatred—
   Bonaparte's opinion of the power of the Church—The Pope's arrival
   at Fontainebleau—Napoleon's first interview with Pius VII.—
   The Pope and the Emperor on a footing of equality—Honours rendered
   to the Pope—His apartments at the Tuileries—His visit to the
   Imperial printing office—Paternal rebuke—Effect produced in
   England by the Pope's presence in Paris—Preparations for Napoleon's
   coronation—Votes in favour of hereditary succession—Convocation of
   the Legislative Body—The presidents of cantons—Anecdote related by
   Michot the actor—Comparisons—Influence of the Coronation on the
   trade of Paris—The insignia of Napoleon and the insignia of
   Charlemagne—The Pope's mule—Anecdote of the notary Raguideau—
   Distribution of eagles in the Champ de Mars—Remarkable coincidence.

England misled by Napoleon—Admirals Missiessy and Villeneuve—Command given to Lauriston—Napoleon's views on Madame de Stael—Her letters to Napoleon—Her enthusiasm turned into hatred—Bonaparte's views on the power of the Church—The Pope's arrival at Fontainebleau—Napoleon's first meeting with Pius VII.—The Pope and the Emperor on equal terms—Honors given to the Pope—His accommodations at the Tuileries—His visit to the Imperial printing office—Paternal reprimand—Impact in England due to the Pope's presence in Paris—Preparations for Napoleon's coronation—Votes supporting hereditary succession—Convocation of the Legislative Body—The presidents of cantons—Anecdote shared by Michot the actor—Comparisons—Influence of the Coronation on Paris's trade—The insignia of Napoleon and the insignia of Charlemagne—The Pope's mule—Anecdote about the notary Raguideau—Distribution of eagles in the Champ de Mars—Noteworthy coincidence.







      England was never so much deceived by Bonaparte as during the period of
      the encampment at Boulogne. The English really believed that an invasion
      was intended, and the Government exhausted itself in efforts for raising
      men and money to guard against the danger of being taken by surprise.
      Such, indeed, is the advantage always possessed by the assailant. He can
      choose the point on which he thinks it most convenient to act, while the
      party which stands on the defence, and is afraid of being attacked, is
      compelled to be prepared in every point. However, Napoleon, who was then
      in the full vigour of his genius and activity, had always his eyes fixed
      on objects remote from those which surrounded him, and which seemed to
      absorb his whole attention. Thus, during the journey of which I have
      spoken, the ostensible object of which was the organisation of the
      departments on the Rhine, he despatched two squadrons from Rochefort and
      Boulogne, one commanded by Missiessy, the other by Villeneuve—I
      shall not enter into any details about those squadrons; I shall merely
      mention with respect to them that, while the Emperor was still in Belgium,
      Lauriston paid me a sudden and unexpected visit. He was on his way to
      Toulon to take command of the troops which were to be embarked on
      Villeneuve's squadron, and he was not much pleased with the service to
      which he had been appointed.
    
England was never so misled by Bonaparte as during the time when he camped at Boulogne. The English genuinely believed that an invasion was coming, and the Government went all out in efforts to raise men and funds to protect against the risk of being caught off guard. This is the advantage always held by the attacker. They can choose the point where they think it's easiest to strike, while the defending side, fearing an attack, has to be ready for anything. However, Napoleon, who was then full of energy and sharpness, always had his sights set on goals far removed from what was happening around him, which seemed to grab his full attention. So, during the journey I mentioned earlier, ostensibly to organize the departments on the Rhine, he sent out two squadrons from Rochefort and Boulogne—one led by Missiessy, the other by Villeneuve. I won’t go into details about those squadrons; I’ll just note that while the Emperor was still in Belgium, Lauriston made a sudden and unexpected visit to me. He was on his way to Toulon to take command of the troops that were to be loaded onto Villeneuve's squadron, and he wasn't very happy with the assignment he had received.







      Lauriston's visit was a piece of good fortune for me. We were always on
      friendly terms, and I received much information from him, particularly
      with respect to the manner in which the Emperor spent his time. "You can
      have no idea," said he, "how much the Emperor does, and the sort of
      enthusiasm which his presence excites in the army. But his anger at the
      contractors is greater than ever, and he has been very severe with some of
      them." These words of Lauriaton did not at all surprise me, for I well
      knew Napoleon's dislike to contractors, and all men who had mercantile
      transactions with the army. I have often heard him say that they were a
      curse and a leprosy to nations; that whatever power he might attain, he
      never would grant honours to any of them, and that of all aristocracies,
      theirs was to him the most insupportable. After his accession to the
      Empire the contractors were no longer the important persons they had been
      under the Directory, or even during the two first years of the Consulate.
      Bonaparte sometimes acted with them as he had before done with the Beya of
      Egypt, when he drew from them forced contributions.
    
Lauriston's visit was a stroke of luck for me. We were always on good terms, and I got a lot of valuable insights from him, especially about how the Emperor spent his time. "You can't imagine," he said, "how much the Emperor does and the kind of excitement his presence brings to the army. But his frustration with the contractors is stronger than ever, and he's been really tough on some of them." Lauriston's words didn't surprise me at all because I was well aware of Napoleon's disdain for contractors and anyone involved in commercial dealings with the army. I’ve often heard him say they were a plague and a curse to nations; that no matter how much power he gained, he would never give any of them honors, and that of all the aristocracies, theirs was the most unbearable to him. After he became Emperor, the contractors were no longer the influential figures they had been under the Directory or even during the first two years of the Consulate. Bonaparte sometimes dealt with them as he had previously done with the Beya of Egypt when he extracted forced contributions from them.






 —[Lauriston, one of Napoleon's aides de camp, who was with him at
   the Military School of Paris, and who had been commissioned in the
   artillery at the same time as Napoleon, considered that he should
   have had the post of Grand Ecuyer which Caulaincourt had obtained.
   He had complained angrily to the Emperor, and after a stormy
   interview was ordered to join the fleet of Villeneuve—In
   consequence he was at Trafalgar. On his return after Austerlitz
   his temporary disgrace was forgotten, and he was sent as governor to
   Venice. He became marshal under the Restoration.]— 
—[Lauriston, one of Napoleon's aides de camp, who was with him at the Military School of Paris and was commissioned in the artillery at the same time as Napoleon, believed he should have been appointed Grand Ecuyer, a position that Caulaincourt got. He angrily complained to the Emperor, and after a heated meeting, he was ordered to join Villeneuve's fleet—As a result, he was at Trafalgar. When he returned after Austerlitz, his temporary disgrace was overlooked, and he was appointed governor of Venice. He became a marshal during the Restoration.]— 







      I recollect another somewhat curious circumstance respecting the visit of
      Lauriston, who had left the Emperor and Empress at Aix-la-Chapelle.
      Lauriston was the best educated of the aides de camp, and Napoleon often
      conversed with him on such literary works as he chose to notice. "He sent
      for me one day," said Lauriston, "when I was on duty at the Palace of
      Lacken, and spoke to me of the decennial prizes, and the tragedy of
      'Carion de Nisas', and a novel by Madame de Stael, which he had just read,
      but which I had not seen, and was therefore rather embarrassed in replying
      to him. Respecting Madame de Stael and her Delphine, he said some
      remarkable things. 'I do not like women,' he observed, 'who make men of
      themselves, any more than I like effeminate men. There is a proper part
      for every one to play in the world. What does all this flight of
      imagination mean? What is the result of it? Nothing. It is all sentimental
      metaphysics and disorder of the mind. I cannot endure that woman; for one
      reason, that I cannot bear women who make a set at me, and God knows how
      often she has tried to cajole me!'"
    
I remember another somewhat interesting thing about Lauriston's visit, who had just left the Emperor and Empress at Aix-la-Chapelle. Lauriston was the most educated of the aides-de-camp, and Napoleon often had discussions with him about the literary works he chose to mention. “One day, he called for me,” Lauriston said, “when I was on duty at the Palace of Lacken, and talked to me about the decennial prizes, the play 'Carion de Nisas', and a novel by Madame de Stael that he had just read, which I hadn’t seen, so I felt a bit awkward responding to him. Regarding Madame de Stael and her Delphine, he said some striking things. ‘I don’t like women,’ he noted, ‘who try to be like men, any more than I like feminized men. Everyone has their role to play in the world. What does all this imaginative thinking achieve? Nothing. It’s just sentimental nonsense and a disordered mind. I can’t stand that woman; for one reason, I can’t tolerate women who make advances at me, and God knows how often she has tried to charm me!’”







      The words of Lauriston brought to my recollection the conversations I had
      often had with Bonaparte respecting Madame de Stael, of whose advances
      made to the First Consul, and even to the General of the Army of Italy, I
      had frequently been witness. Bonaparte knew nothing at first of Madame de
      Stael but that she was the daughter of M. Necker, a man for whom, as I
      have already shown, he had very little esteem. Madame de Stael had not
      been introduced to him, and knew nothing more of him than what fame had
      published respecting the young conqueror of Italy, when she addressed to
      him letters full of enthusiasm. Bonaparte read some passages of them to
      me, and, laughing, said, "What do you think, Bourrienne, of these
      extravagances. This woman is mad." I recollect that in one of her letters
      Madame de Stael, among other things, told him that they certainly were
      created for each other—that it was in consequence of an error in
      human institutions that the quiet and gentle Josephine was united to his
      fate—that nature seemed to have destined for the adoration of a hero
      such as he, a soul of fire like her own. These extravagances disgusted
      Bonaparte to a degree which I cannot describe. When he had finished
      reading these fine epistles he used to throw them into the fire, or tear
      them with marked ill-humour, and would say, "Well, here is a woman who
      pretends to genius—a maker of sentiments, and she presumes to
      compare herself to Josephine! Bourrienne, I shall not reply to such
      letters."
    
The words of Lauriston reminded me of the many conversations I had with Bonaparte about Madame de Stael, whose advances towards the First Consul and even the General of the Army of Italy I had often witnessed. At first, Bonaparte knew nothing about Madame de Stael except that she was M. Necker's daughter, a man for whom, as I've mentioned before, he had very little respect. Madame de Stael had not been introduced to him and knew nothing more about him than what was widely reported about the young conqueror of Italy when she sent him letters full of enthusiasm. Bonaparte read some excerpts from them to me and, laughing, said, "What do you think, Bourrienne, of these wild claims? This woman is crazy." I remember that in one of her letters, Madame de Stael mentioned, among other things, that they were certainly made for each other—that due to a mistake in human arrangements, the calm and gentle Josephine was linked to his destiny—and that nature seemed to have intended a fiery soul like hers for the admiration of a hero like him. These wild ideas disgusted Bonaparte to a degree I can't fully describe. After reading those letters, he would throw them into the fire or rip them apart with obvious irritation, saying, "Well, here's a woman who pretends to have genius—a creator of feelings, and she dares to compare herself to Josephine! Bourrienne, I won’t respond to such letters."







      I had, however, the opportunity of seeing what the perseverance of a woman
      of talent can effect. Notwithstanding Bonaparte's prejudices against
      Madame de Stael, which he never abandoned, she succeeded in getting
      herself introduced to him; and if anything could have disgusted him with
      flattery it would have been the admiration, or, to speak more properly,
      the worship, which she paid him; for she used to compare him to a god
      descended on earth,—a kind of comparison which the clergy, I
      thought, had reserved for their own use. But, unfortunately, to please
      Madame de Stael it would have been necessary that her god had been Plutua;
      for behind her eulogies lay a claim for two millions, which M. Necker
      considered still due to him on account of his good and worthy services.
      However, Bonaparte said on this occasion that whatever value he might set
      on the suffrage of Madame de Stael, he did not think fit to pay so dear
      for it with the money of the State. The conversion of Madame de Stael's
      enthusiasm into hatred is well known, as are also the petty vexations,
      unworthy of himself, with which the Emperor harassed her in her retreat at
      Coppet.
    
I had the chance to see what a talented woman's determination can accomplish. Despite Bonaparte's ongoing biases against Madame de Stael, which he never let go of, she managed to get introduced to him; and if anything could have made him sick of flattery, it would have been the admiration, or more accurately, the worship she showed him, as she would compare him to a god who had come down to earth—a comparison I thought only the clergy reserved for themselves. Unfortunately, for Madame de Stael to be pleased, her god would have had to be Plutus; behind her praises lay a demand for two million, which M. Necker still believed was owed to him for his honorable services. However, Bonaparte remarked that no matter how much he valued Madame de Stael's support, he didn’t think it wise to pay that much with state funds. The transformation of Madame de Stael's enthusiasm into hatred is well known, as are the small, petty annoyances, unworthy of him, with which the Emperor troubled her during her time in retreat at Coppet.







      Lauriston had arrived at Paris, where he made but a short stay, some days
      before Caffarelli, who was sent on a mission to Rome to sound the Papal
      Court, and to induce the Holy Father to come to Paris to consecrate
      Bonaparte at his coronation. I have already described the nature of
      Bonaparte's ideas on religion. His notions on the subject seemed to amount
      to a sort of vague feeling rather than to any belief founded on
      reflection. Nevertheless, he had a high opinion of the power of the
      Church; but not because he considered it dangerous to Governments,
      particularly to his own. Napoleon never could have conceived how it was
      possible that a sovereign wearing a crown and a sword could have the
      meanness to kneel to a Pope, or to humble his sceptre before the keys of
      St. Peter. His spirit was too great to admit of such a thought. On the
      contrary, he regarded the alliance between the Church and his power as a
      happy means of influencing the opinions of the people, and as an
      additional tie which was to attach them to a Government rendered
      legitimate by the solemn sanction of the Papal authority. Bonaparte was
      not deceived. In this, as well as in many other things, the perspicacity
      of his genius enabled him to comprehend all the importance of a
      consecration bestowed on him by the Pope; more especially as Louis XVIII.,
      without subjects, without territory, and wearing only an illusory crown,
      had not received that sacred unction by which the descendants of Hugh
      Capet become the eldest sons of the Church.
    
Lauriston arrived in Paris, where he stayed for just a few days, before Caffarelli, who was sent on a mission to Rome to gauge the Papal Court and persuade the Holy Father to come to Paris to consecrate Bonaparte at his coronation. I've already described Bonaparte's views on religion. His ideas on the subject seemed more like a vague feeling than a belief based on deep thought. Still, he had a high regard for the power of the Church, not because he saw it as a threat to governments, especially his own. Napoleon could never grasp how a sovereign with a crown and a sword could be lowly enough to kneel to a Pope or lower his scepter before the keys of St. Peter. His spirit was too grand for such thoughts. Instead, he viewed the alliance between the Church and his power as a clever way to sway public opinion and an additional bond to connect the people to a government made legitimate by the formal endorsement of Papal authority. Bonaparte wasn't misled. In this, as in many other matters, his keen insight allowed him to recognize the significance of a consecration given to him by the Pope; especially since Louis XVIII., lacking subjects and territory, and wearing only a hollow crown, had not received that sacred anointing by which the descendants of Hugh Capet become the eldest sons of the Church.







      As soon as the Emperor was informed of the success of Caffarelli's
      mission, and that the Pope, in compliance with his desire, was about to
      repair to Paris to confirm in his hands the sceptre of Charlemagne,
      nothing was thought of but preparations for that great event, which had
      been preceded by the recognition of Napoleon as Emperor of the French on
      the part of all the States of Europe, with the exception of England.
    
As soon as the Emperor learned about Caffarelli's successful mission, and that the Pope, following his request, was headed to Paris to officially hand over the scepter of Charlemagne, all attention turned to preparations for that significant event. This came after all European states, except for England, acknowledged Napoleon as the Emperor of the French.







      On the conclusion of the Concordat Bonaparte said to me, "I shall let the
      Republican generals exclaim as much as they like against the Mass. I know
      what I am about; I am working for posterity." He was now gathering the
      fruits of his Concordat. He ordered that the Pope should be everywhere
      treated in his journey through the French territory with the highest
      distinction, and he proceeded to Fontainebleau to receive his Holiness.
      This afforded an opportunity for Bonaparte to re-establish the example of
      those journeys of the old Court, during which changes of ministers used
      formerly to be made. The Palace of Fontainebleau, now become Imperial,
      like all the old royal chateaux, had been newly furnished with a luxury
      and taste corresponding to the progress of modern art. The Emperor was
      proceeding on the road to Nemours when courtiers informed him of the
      approach of Pius VII. Bonaparte's object was to avoid the ceremony which
      had been previously settled. He had therefore made the pretext of going on
      a hunting-party, and was in the way as it were by chance when the Pope's
      carriage was arriving. He alighted from horseback, and the Pope came out
      of his carriage. Rapp was with the Emperor, and I think I yet hear him
      describing, in his original manner and with his German accent, this grand
      interview, upon which, however, he for his part looked with very little
      respect. Rapp, in fact, was among the number of those who, notwithstanding
      his attachment to the Emperor, preserved independence of character, and he
      knew he had no reason to dissemble with me. "Fancy to yourself," said he,
      "the amusing comedy that was played." After the Emperor and the Pope had
      well embraced they went into the same carriage; and, in order that they
      might be upon a footing of equality, they were to enter at the same time
      by opposite doors. All that was settled; but at breakfast the Emperor had
      calculated how he should manage, without appearing to assume anything, to
      get on the righthand side of the Pope, and everything turned out as he
      wished. "As to the Pope," said Rapp, "I must own that I never saw a man
      with a finer countenance or more respectable appearance than Pius VII."
    
At the end of the Concordat, Bonaparte said to me, "I’ll let the Republican generals complain as much as they want about the Mass. I know what I’m doing; I’m working for the future." He was now reaping the benefits of his Concordat. He ordered that the Pope should be treated with the highest honor during his travels through France, and he went to Fontainebleau to welcome his Holiness. This was a chance for Bonaparte to revive the tradition of those trips from the old Court, where cabinet changes were often announced. The Palace of Fontainebleau, now turned Imperial, like all the former royal châteaux, had been newly decorated with a luxury and style that matched the advancements of modern art. The Emperor was heading to Nemours when his courtiers informed him of Pius VII's arrival. Bonaparte wanted to avoid the formal ceremony that had been arranged, so he pretended to be going on a hunting trip and positioned himself “by chance” as the Pope's carriage approached. He dismounted, and the Pope got out of his carriage. Rapp was with the Emperor, and I can still hear him recounting, in his unique style and with his German accent, this grand meeting, which he viewed with little admiration. Rapp was one of those who, despite his loyalty to the Emperor, maintained his independence and felt no need to hide his opinions from me. "Just imagine," he said, "the funny scene that unfolded." After the Emperor and the Pope embraced, they got into the same carriage; they agreed to enter simultaneously from opposite doors to ensure equality. Everything was arranged, but at breakfast, the Emperor plotted how to position himself on the right side of the Pope without appearing presumptuous, and it all went according to his plan. "As for the Pope," Rapp said, "I must admit I’ve never seen a man with a more distinguished face or a more respectable presence than Pius VII."







      After the conference between the Pope and the Emperor at Fontainebleau,
      Pius VII. set off for Paris first. On the road the same honours were paid
      to him as to the Emperor. Apartments were prepared for him in the Pavilion
      de Flore in the Tuileries, and his bedchamber was arranged and furnished
      in the same manner as his chamber in the Palace of Monte-Cavallo, his
      usual residence in Rome. The Pope's presence in Paris was so extraordinary
      a circumstance that it was scarcely believed, though it had some time
      before been talked of. What, indeed, could be more singular than to see
      the Head of the Church in a capital where four years previously the altars
      had been overturned, and the few faithful who remained had been obliged to
      exercise their worship in secret!
    
After the meeting between the Pope and the Emperor at Fontainebleau, Pius VII set off for Paris first. Along the way, he received the same honors as the Emperor. Accommodations were prepared for him in the Pavilion de Flore in the Tuileries, and his bedroom was set up and decorated just like his room in the Palace of Monte-Cavallo, his usual residence in Rome. The Pope’s presence in Paris was such an unusual event that it was hard to believe, even though it had been discussed some time before. What could be more remarkable than seeing the Head of the Church in a capital city where, just four years earlier, the altars had been toppled and the few faithful who remained had to worship in secret!







      The Pope became the object of public respect and general curiosity. I was
      exceedingly anxious to see him, and my wish was gratified on the day when
      he went to visit the Imperial printing office, then situated where the
      Bank of France now is.
    
The Pope became a focus of public respect and widespread curiosity. I was really eager to see him, and my wish was fulfilled on the day he visited the Imperial printing office, which was located where the Bank of France is now.







      A pamphlet, dedicated to the Pope, containing the "Pater Noster," in one
      hundred and fifty different languages, was struck off in the presence of
      his Holiness. During this visit to the printing office an ill-bred young
      man kept his hat on in the Pope's presence. Several persons, indignant at
      this indecorum, advanced to take off the young man's hat. A little
      confusion arose, and the Pope, observing the cause of it, stepped up to
      the young man and said to him, in a tone of kindness truly patriarchal,
      "Young man, uncover, that I may give thee my blessing. An old man's
      blessing never yet harmed any one." This little incident deeply affected
      all who witnessed it. The countenance and figure of Pope Pius VII.
      commanded respect. David's admirable portrait is a living likeness of him.
    
A pamphlet dedicated to the Pope, featuring the "Our Father" in one hundred and fifty different languages, was produced in the presence of his Holiness. During this visit to the printing office, a rude young man kept his hat on while in the Pope's presence. Several people, outraged by this disrespect, stepped forward to remove the young man’s hat. A bit of confusion broke out, and the Pope, noticing what was happening, approached the young man and said to him in a genuinely kind tone, "Young man, take off your hat so I can bless you. An old man's blessing has never hurt anyone." This small incident deeply moved everyone who saw it. The demeanor and stature of Pope Pius VII demanded respect. David’s remarkable portrait captures his likeness perfectly.







      The Pope's arrival at Paris produced a great sensation in London, greater
      indeed there than anywhere else, notwithstanding the separation of the
      English Church from the Church of Rome. The English Ministry now spared no
      endeavours to influence public opinion by the circulation of libels
      against Bonaparte. The Cabinet of London found a twofold advantage in
      encouraging this system, which not merely excited irritation against the
      powerful enemy of England, but diverted from the British Government the
      clamour which some of its measures were calculated to create. Bonaparte's
      indignation against England was roused to the utmost extreme, and in truth
      this indignation was in some degree a national feeling in France.
    
The Pope's arrival in Paris created a huge stir in London, even more so than anywhere else, despite the split between the Church of England and the Church of Rome. The English government did everything it could to sway public opinion by spreading false information about Bonaparte. The London Cabinet saw a dual benefit in promoting this strategy, which not only fueled anger against England's powerful enemy but also shifted the public's attention away from the backlash that some of its own policies were likely to provoke. Bonaparte's anger towards England reached its peak, and honestly, this anger was somewhat a national sentiment in France.







      Napoleon had heard of the success of Caffarelli's negotiations previous to
      his return to Paris, after his journey to the Rhine. On arriving at St.
      Cloud he lost no time in ordering the preparations for his coronation.
      Everything aided the fulfilment of his wishes. On 28th November the Pope
      arrived at Paris, and two days after, viz. on the 1st of December, the
      Senate presented to the Emperor the votes of the people for the
      establishment of hereditary succession in his family: for as it was
      pretended that the assumption of the title of Emperor was no way
      prejudicial to the Republic, the question of hereditary succession only
      had been proposed for public sanction. Sixty thousand registers had been
      opened in different parts of France,—at the offices of the
      ministers, the prefects, the mayors of the communes, notaries, solicitors,
      etc. France at that time contained 108 departments, and there were
      3,574,898 voters. Of these only 2569 voted against hereditary succession.
      Bonaparte ordered a list of the persons who had voted against the question
      to be sent to him, and he often consulted it. They proved to be not
      Royalist, but for the most part staunch Republicans. To my knowledge many
      Royalists abstained from voting at all, not wishing to commit themselves
      uselessly, and still less to give their suffrages to the author of the Duc
      d'Enghien's death. For my part, I gave my vote in favour of hereditary
      succession in Bonaparte's family; my situation, as may well be imagined,
      did not allow me to do otherwise.
    
Napoleon had heard about the success of Caffarelli's negotiations before he returned to Paris after his trip to the Rhine. Upon arriving at St. Cloud, he quickly started making arrangements for his coronation. Everything was falling into place for him. On November 28th, the Pope arrived in Paris, and two days later, on December 1st, the Senate presented the Emperor with the people's votes for establishing hereditary succession in his family. It was claimed that taking the title of Emperor would not harm the Republic, so only the question of hereditary succession was put up for public approval. Sixty thousand registers were opened across France—at the offices of ministers, prefects, mayors of communes, notaries, solicitors, and so on. At that time, France had 108 departments and 3,574,898 voters. Out of these, only 2,569 voted against hereditary succession. Bonaparte requested a list of those who voted against it, and he frequently consulted it. They turned out to be mostly steadfast Republicans, not Royalists. Many Royalists, as I know, chose not to vote at all, avoiding unnecessary commitments and even less wanting to support the person responsible for the Duc d'Enghien's death. Personally, I voted in favor of hereditary succession in Bonaparte's family; considering my situation, I really had no other choice.







      Since the month of October the Legislative Body had been convoked to
      attend the Emperor's coronation. Many deputies arrived, and with them a
      swarm of those presidents of cantons who occupied a conspicuous place in
      the annals of ridicule at the close of the year 1804. They became the
      objects of all sorts of witticisms and jests. The obligation of wearing
      swords made their appearance very grotesque. As many droll, stories were
      told of them as were ten years afterwards related of those who were styled
      the voltigeurs of Louis XIV. One of these anecdotes was so exceedingly
      ludicrous that, though it was probably a mere invention, yet I cannot
      refrain from relating it. A certain number of these presidents were one
      day selected to be presented to the Pope; and as most of them were very
      poor they found it necessary to combine economy with the etiquette
      necessary to be observed under the new order of things. To save the
      expense of hiring carriages they therefore proceeded to the Pavilion de
      Flore on foot, taking the precaution of putting on gaiters to preserve
      their white silk stockings from the mud which covered the streets, for it
      was then the month of December. On arriving at the Tuileries one of the
      party put his gaiters into his pocket. It happened that the Pope delivered
      such an affecting address that all present were moved to tears, and the
      unfortunate president who had disposed of his gaiters in the way just
      mentioned drew them out instead of his handkerchief and smeared his face
      over with mud. The Pope is said to have been much amused at this mistake.
      If this anecdote should be thought too puerile to be repeated here, I may
      observe that it afforded no small merriment to Bonaparte, who made Michot
      the actor relate it to the Empress at Paris one evening after a Court
      performance.
    
Since October, the Legislative Body had been called to attend the Emperor's coronation. Many deputies showed up, along with a bunch of those cantonal presidents who had become infamous for their ridiculed actions at the end of 1804. They were the targets of all kinds of jokes and mockery. The requirement to wear swords added to the absurdity of their appearance. Just as many funny stories were told about them as were recounted a decade later about the voltigeurs of Louis XIV. One of these stories was so hilarious that, despite probably being just a fabrication, I can’t help but share it. A few of these presidents were chosen to be presented to the Pope; since most of them were quite poor, they had to balance frugality with the etiquette required in this new era. To avoid the cost of hiring carriages, they decided to walk to the Pavilion de Flore, making sure to wear gaiters to keep their white silk stockings clean from the mud on the streets since it was December. Upon arriving at the Tuileries, one of the group tucked his gaiters into his pocket. When the Pope delivered such a touching speech that everyone was brought to tears, the unfortunate president who had put away his gaiters instead pulled them out instead of his handkerchief and ended up smudging his face with mud. It is said that the Pope found this mix-up quite amusing. If this story seems too silly to share here, I should note that it brought a lot of laughter to Bonaparte, who had Michot the actor recount it to the Empress one evening in Paris after a Court performance.







      Napoleon had now attained the avowed object of his ambition; but his
      ambition receded before him like a boundless horizon. On the 1st of
      December; the day on which the Senate presented to the Emperor the result
      of the votes for hereditary succession, Francois de Neufchateau delivered
      an address to him, in which there was no want of adulatory expressions. As
      President of the Senate he had had some practice in that style of
      speechmaking; and he only substituted the eulogy of the Monarchical
      Government for that of the Republican Government 'a sempre bene', as the
      Italians say.
    
Napoleon had now achieved the openly stated goal of his ambition, but that ambition seemed to pull away from him like an endless horizon. On December 1st, the day the Senate presented the results of the votes for hereditary succession to the Emperor, Francois de Neufchateau gave a speech filled with flattering remarks. As President of the Senate, he was already accustomed to that kind of rhetoric; he simply replaced praise for the Republican Government with praise for the Monarchical Government, 'a sempre bene,' as the Italians say.







      If I wished to make comparisons I could here indulge in some curious ones.
      Is it not extraordinary that Fontainebleau should have witnessed, at the
      interval of nearly ten years, Napoleon's first interview with the Pope,
      and his last farewell to his army, and that the Senate, who had previously
      given such ready support to Bonaparte, should in 1814 have pronounced his
      abdication at Fontainebleau.
    
If I wanted to compare things, I could find some interesting examples here. Isn't it amazing that Fontainebleau hosted, almost ten years apart, Napoleon's first meeting with the Pope and his final goodbye to his army? It's also surprising that the Senate, which had once supported Bonaparte so readily, declared his abdication at Fontainebleau in 1814.







      The preparations for the Coronation proved very advantageous to the
      trading classes of Paris. Great numbers of foreigners and people from the
      provinces visited the capital, and the return of luxury and the revival of
      old customs gave occupation to a variety of tradespeople who could get no
      employment under the Directory or Consulate, such as saddlers,
      carriage-makers, lacemen, embroiderers, and others. By these positive
      interests were created more partisans of the Empire than by opinion and
      reflection; and it is but just to say that trade had not been so active
      for a dozen years before. The Imperial crown jewels were exhibited to the
      public at Biennais the jeweller's. The crown was of a light form, and,
      with its leaves of gold, it less resembled the crown of France than the
      antique crown of the Caesars. These things were afterwards placed in the
      public treasury, together with the imperial insignia of Charlemagne, which
      Bonaparte had ordered to be brought from Aix-la-Chapelle. But while
      Bonaparte was thus priding himself in his crown and his imagined
      resemblance to Charlemagne, Mr. Pitt, lately recalled to the Ministry, was
      concluding at Stockholm a treaty with Sweden, and agreeing to pay a
      subsidy to that power to enable it to maintain hostilities against France.
      This treaty was concluded on the 3d of December, the day after the
      Coronation.
    
The preparations for the Coronation turned out to be very beneficial for the business community in Paris. A large number of foreigners and people from the provinces came to the capital, and the return of luxury and the revival of old customs provided work for various tradespeople who had been struggling to find jobs during the Directory or Consulate, like saddlers, carriage makers, lace sellers, embroiderers, and others. These tangible interests created more supporters of the Empire than opinions or reflections ever could; and it’s fair to say that trade had not been this vibrant for over a dozen years. The Imperial crown jewels were displayed to the public at Biennais the jeweler's. The crown was lightweight and, with its gold leaves, resembled the antique crown of the Caesars more than the crown of France. These items were later placed in the public treasury, along with Charlemagne's imperial insignia, which Bonaparte had ordered to be brought from Aix-la-Chapelle. But while Bonaparte was taking pride in his crown and his supposed connection to Charlemagne, Mr. Pitt, who had recently returned to the Ministry, was finalizing a treaty with Sweden in Stockholm, agreeing to provide financial support to help them continue their fight against France. This treaty was signed on December 3rd, the day after the Coronation.






 —[The details of the preparation for the Coronation caused many
   stormy scenes between Napoleon and his family. The Princesses, his
   sisters and sisters-in-law, were especially shocked at having to
   carry the train of the Imperial mantle of Josephine, and even when
   Josephine was actually moving from the altar to the throne the
   Princesses evinced their reluctance so plainly that Josephine could
   not advance and an altercation took place which had to be stopped by
   Napoleon himself. Joseph was quite willing himself give up
   appearing in a mantle with a train, but he wished to prevent his
   wife bearing the mantle of the Empress; and he opposed his brother
   on so many points that Napoleon ended by calling on him to either
   give up his position and retire from all politics, or else to fully
   accept the imperial regime. How the economical Camberceres used up
   the ermine he could not wear will be seen in Junot tome iii. p.
   196. Josephine herself was in the greatest anxiety as to whether
   the wish of the Bonaparte family that she should be divorced would
   carry the day with her husband. When she had gained her cause for
   the time and after the Pope had engaged to crown her, she seems to
   have most cleverly managed to get the Pope informed that she was
   only united to Napoleon by a civil marriage. The Pope insisted on
   a religious marriage. Napoleon was angry, but could not recede, and
   the religions rite was performed by Cardinal Fesch the day, or two
   days, before the Coronation. The certificate of the marriage was
   carefully guarded from Napoleon by Josephine, and even placed beyond
   his reach at the time of the divorce. Such at least seems to be the
   most probable account of this mysterious and doubtful matter.

   The fact that Cardinal Fesch maintained that the religious rite had
   been duly performed, thirteen of the Cardinals (not, however
   including Fesch) were so convinced of the legality of the marriage
   that they refused to appear at the ceremony of marriage with Marie
   Louise, thus drawing down the wrath of the Emperor, and becoming the
   "Cardinals Noirs," from being forbidden; to wear their own robes,
   seems to leave no doubt that the religious rite had been performed.
   The marriage was only pronounced to be invalid in 1809 by the local
   canonical bodies, not by the authority of the pope.]— 
 —[The preparations for the Coronation led to many heated arguments between Napoleon and his family. His sisters and sisters-in-law, the Princesses, were particularly upset about having to carry the train of Josephine's Imperial mantle. Even when Josephine was moving from the altar to the throne, the Princesses showed their reluctance so openly that Josephine couldn't proceed, resulting in a confrontation that Napoleon had to intervene in. Joseph was more than willing to avoid wearing a mantle with a train himself, but he wanted to prevent his wife from bearing the mantle of the Empress. He disagreed with Napoleon on so many issues that Napoleon ultimately told him to either step back from politics entirely or fully accept the imperial regime. The frugal Camberceres’ use of the ermine he couldn't wear will be detailed in Junot tome iii. p. 196. Josephine was extremely anxious about whether her husband's desire for her to divorce would prevail. Once she managed to secure her position for the time being and after the Pope agreed to crown her, she cleverly informed the Pope that her union with Napoleon was only civil. The Pope insisted on a religious marriage. Though Napoleon was angry, he couldn't turn back, and the religious ceremony took place with Cardinal Fesch one or two days before the Coronation. Josephine carefully kept the marriage certificate from Napoleon and even put it out of his reach at the time of the divorce. This at least seems to be the most likely explanation for this mysterious and uncertain situation.

   The fact that Cardinal Fesch claimed the religious rite had been properly performed, along with thirteen Cardinals (not including Fesch) believing in the legality of the marriage to the point of refusing to attend Napoleon's marriage to Marie Louise, resulting in their being dubbed the "Cardinals Noirs" and banned from wearing their own robes, strongly suggests that the religious ceremony did take place. The marriage was only declared invalid in 1809 by local canonical authorities, not by the Pope himself.]—







      It cannot be expected that I should enter into a detail of the ceremony
      which took place on the 2d of December. The glitter of gold, the waving
      plumes, and richly-caparisoned horses of the Imperial procession; the mule
      which preceded the Pope's cortege, and occasioned so much merriment to the
      Parisians, have already been described over and over again. I may,
      however, relate an anecdote connected with the Coronation, told me by
      Josephine, and which is exceedingly characteristic of Napoleon.
    
I can't go into detail about the ceremony that happened on December 2nd. The shine of gold, the fluttering feathers, and the lavishly adorned horses of the Imperial procession; the mule that walked in front of the Pope's parade, which made the Parisians laugh, have all been described countless times. However, I can share an anecdote related to the Coronation, told to me by Josephine, that really shows what Napoleon was like.







      When Bonaparte was paying his addresses to Madame de BEAUHARNAIS, neither
      the one nor the other kept a carriage; and therefore Bonaparte frequently
      accompanied her when she walked out. One day they went together to the
      notary Raguideau, one of the shortest men I think I ever saw in my life,
      Madame de Beauharnais placed great confidence, in him, and went there on
      purpose to acquaint him of her intention to marry the young general of
      artillery,—the protege of Barras. Josephine went alone into, the
      notary's cabinet, while Bonaparte waited for her in an adjoining room. The
      door of Raguideau's cabinet did not shut close, and Bonaparte plainly
      heard him dissuading Madame de Beauharnais from her projected marriage.
      "You are going to take a very wrong step," said he, "and you will be sorry
      for it, Can you be so mad as to marry a young man who has nothing but his
      cloak and his sword?" Bonaparte, Josephine told me, had never mentioned
      this to her, and she never supposed that he had heard what fell from
      Raguideau. "Only think, Bourrienne," continued she, "what was my
      astonishment when, dressed in the Imperial robes on the Coronation day, he
      desired that Raguideau might be sent for, saying that he wished to see him
      immediately; and when Raguideau appeared; he said to him, 'Well, sir! have
      I nothing but my cloak and my sword now?'"
    
When Bonaparte was pursuing Madame de Beauharnais, neither of them had a carriage, so Bonaparte often walked with her when she went out. One day, they visited notary Raguideau, one of the shortest men I think I've ever seen. Madame de Beauharnais trusted him a lot and went there specifically to tell him about her intention to marry the young general of artillery, who was Barras's protégé. Josephine went alone into the notary's office while Bonaparte waited for her in an adjacent room. The door to Raguideau's office didn’t close completely, and Bonaparte clearly heard him trying to talk her out of the marriage. "You're making a huge mistake," he said, "and you’ll regret it. Can you really be foolish enough to marry a young man who has nothing but his cloak and sword?" Bonaparte, Josephine later told me, never mentioned this to her, and she never thought he had overheard Raguideau. "Just think, Bourrienne," she continued, "how surprised I was when, dressed in the imperial robes on Coronation day, he insisted that Raguideau be summoned, saying he wanted to see him right away; and when Raguideau arrived, he said, 'Well, sir! Do I have nothing but my cloak and my sword now?'"







      Though Bonaparte had related to me almost all the circumstances of his
      life, as they occurred to his memory, he never once mentioned this affair
      of Raguideau, which he only seemed to have suddenly recollected on his
      Coronation day.
    
Though Bonaparte had shared almost everything about his life with me, as he remembered it, he never once brought up the matter of Raguideau, which he only seemed to suddenly remember on the day of his Coronation.







      The day after the Coronation all the troops in Paris were assembled in the
      Champ de Mars the Imperial eagles might be distributed to each regiment,
      in lieu of the national flags. I had stayed away from the Coronation in
      the church of Notre Dame, but I wished to see the military fete in the
      Champ de Mars because I took real pleasure in seeing Bonaparte amongst his
      soldiers. A throne was erected in front of the Military School, which,
      though now transformed into a barrack, must have recalled, to Bonaparte's
      mind some singular recollections of his boyhood. At a given signal all the
      columns closed and approached the throne. Then Bonaparte, rising, gave
      orders for the distribution of the eagles, and delivered the following
      address to the deputations of the different corps of the army:
    
The day after the Coronation, all the troops in Paris gathered in the Champ de Mars so that the Imperial eagles could be given to each regiment instead of the national flags. I had skipped the Coronation at Notre Dame, but I wanted to see the military celebration in the Champ de Mars because I genuinely enjoyed seeing Bonaparte with his soldiers. A throne was set up in front of the Military School, which, although now a barrack, must have brought back some unique memories of Bonaparte's childhood. At a certain signal, all the columns moved closer to the throne. Then Bonaparte stood up, ordered the distribution of the eagles, and delivered the following speech to the representatives of the various army corps:






   "Soldiers, Soldiers! behold your colours. These eagles will always
   be your rallying-point! They will always be where your Emperor may
   think them necessary for the defence of his throne and of his
   people. Swear to sacrifice your lives to defend them, and by your
   courage to keep them constantly in the path of victory.—Swear!"

   "Soldiers, Soldiers! look at your flags. These eagles will always be your rallying point! They will always be where your Emperor believes they are needed to defend his throne and his people. Promise to give your lives to protect them, and with your bravery, keep them always on the path to victory.—Promise!"







      It would be impossible to describe the acclamations which followed this
      address; there is something so seductive in popular enthusiasm that even
      indifferent persons cannot help yielding to its influence. And yet the
      least reflection would have shown how shamefully Napoleon forswore the
      declaration he made to the Senate, when the organic 'Senatus-consulte' for
      the foundation of the Empire was presented to him at St: Cloud: On that
      occasion he said; "The French people shall never be MY people!" And yet
      the day after his Coronation his eagles were to be carried wherever they
      might be necessary for the defence of his people.
    
It would be impossible to describe the cheers that followed this speech; there’s something so captivating about public enthusiasm that even those who are indifferent can’t help but be affected by it. However, a little reflection would reveal how shamefully Napoleon broke the promise he made to the Senate when the organic 'Senatus-consulte' for establishing the Empire was presented to him at St. Cloud: On that occasion, he stated, "The French people shall never be MY people!" And yet, the day after his Coronation, his eagles were to be taken wherever they were needed for the defense of his people.







      By a singular coincidence, while on the 2d of December 1804 Bonaparte was
      receiving from the head of the Church the Imperial crown of France, Louis
      XVIII., who was then at Colmar, prompted as it were by an inexplicable
      presentiment, drew up and signed a declaration to the French people, in
      which he declared that he then, swore never to break the sacred bond which
      united his destiny to theirs, never to renounce the inheritance of his
      ancestors, or to relinquish his rights.
    
By a strange coincidence, on December 2, 1804, while Bonaparte was receiving the Imperial crown of France from the head of the Church, Louis XVIII., who was then in Colmar, seemingly driven by an inexplicable feeling, wrote and signed a declaration to the French people. In it, he stated that he swore never to break the sacred bond connecting his fate to theirs, never to give up the inheritance of his ancestors, or to abandon his rights.








 


 




















      CHAPTER XXX.
    



      1805
    
1805


   My appointment as Minister Plenipotentiary at Hamburg—My interview
   with Bonaparte at Malmaison—Bonaparte's designs respecting Italy—
   His wish to revisit Brienne—Instructions for my residence in
   Hamburg—Regeneration of European society—Bonaparte's plan of
   making himself the oldest sovereign in Europe—Amedee Jaubert's
   mission—Commission from the Emperor to the Empress—My conversation
   with Madame Bonaparte.

   My appointment as Minister Plenipotentiary in Hamburg—My meeting with Bonaparte at Malmaison—Bonaparte's plans for Italy—His desire to return to Brienne—Instructions for my time in Hamburg—Revival of European society—Bonaparte's strategy to become the oldest ruler in Europe—Amedee Jaubert's mission—Commission from the Emperor to the Empress—My conversation with Madame Bonaparte.







      I must now mention an event which concerns myself personally, namely, my
      appointment as Minister Plenipotentiary, to the Dukes of Brunswick and
      Mecklenburg-Schwerin, and to the Hanse towns.
    
I need to mention an event that personally affects me, specifically my appointment as Minister Plenipotentiary to the Dukes of Brunswick and Mecklenburg-Schwerin, as well as to the Hanse towns.







      This appointment took place on the 22d of March 1806. Josephine, who had
      kindly promised to apprise me of what the Emperor intended to do for me,
      as soon as she herself should know his intentions, sent a messenger to
      acquaint me with my appointment, and to tell me that the Emperor wished to
      see me. I had not visited Josephine since her departure for Belgium. The
      pomp and ceremonies of the Coronation had, I may say, dazzled me, and
      deterred me from presenting myself at the Imperial Palace, where I should
      have been annoyed by the etiquette which had been observed since the
      Coronation. I cannot describe what a disagreeable impression this parade
      always produced on me. I could not all at once forget the time when I used
      without ceremony to go into Bonaparte's chamber and wake him at the
      appointed hour. As to Bonaparte I had not seen him since he sent for me
      after the condemnation of Georges, when I saw that my candour relative to
      Moreau was not displeasing to him. Moreau had since quitted France without
      Napoleon's subjecting him to the application of the odious law which has
      only been repealed since the return of the Bourbons, and by virtue of
      which he was condemned to the confiscation of his property. Moreau sold
      his estate of Gros Bois to Berthier, and proceeded to Cadiz, whence he
      embarked for America. I shall not again have occasion to speak of him
      until the period of the intrigues into which he was drawn by the same
      influence which ruined him in France.
    
This appointment took place on March 22, 1806. Josephine, who had kindly promised to let me know what the Emperor planned for me as soon as she found out, sent a messenger to inform me about my appointment and that the Emperor wanted to see me. I hadn’t visited Josephine since she left for Belgium. The grandeur and ceremonies of the Coronation had, I must say, overwhelmed me and kept me from going to the Imperial Palace, where I would have been bothered by the strict etiquette that had been in place since the Coronation. I can’t explain how unpleasant this spectacle always made me feel. I couldn’t immediately forget the time when I would casually go into Bonaparte’s room and wake him at the scheduled hour. I hadn’t seen Bonaparte since he called for me after the execution of Georges, when I realized that my honesty about Moreau didn’t upset him. Moreau had since left France without Napoleon enforcing the horrible law that had only been repealed after the Bourbons returned, under which he was sentenced to have his property confiscated. Moreau sold his estate of Gros Bois to Berthier and went to Cadiz, from where he sailed to America. I won’t have to mention him again until the time of the intrigues he became involved in due to the same forces that brought about his downfall in France.







      On the evening of the day when I received the kind message from Josephine
      I had an official invitation to proceed the next day to Malmaison, where
      the Emperor then was. I was much pleased at the idea of seeing him there
      rather than at the Tuileries, or even at St. Cloud. Our former intimacy at
      Malmaison made me feel more at my ease respecting an interview of which my
      knowledge of Bonaparte's character led me to entertain some apprehension.
      Was I to be received by my old comrade of Brienne, or by His Imperial
      Majesty? I was received by my old college companion.
    
On the evening I got the thoughtful message from Josephine, I received an official invitation to head to Malmaison the next day, where the Emperor was at the time. I was really pleased at the thought of seeing him there instead of at the Tuileries or even St. Cloud. Our past friendship at Malmaison made me feel more relaxed about the meeting, though my understanding of Bonaparte's character made me a bit anxious. Would I be welcomed by my old buddy from Brienne, or by His Imperial Majesty? I was welcomed by my old college friend.







      On my arrival at Malmaison I was ushered into the tentroom leading to the
      library. How I was astonished at the good-natured familiarity with which
      he received me! This extraordinary man displayed, if I may employ the
      term, a coquetry towards me which surprised me, notwithstanding my past
      knowledge of his character. He came up to me with a smile on his lips,
      took my hand (which he had never done since he was Consul), pressed it
      affectionately, and it was impossible that I could look upon him as the
      Emperor of France and the future King of Italy. Yet I was too well aware
      of his fits of pride to allow his familiarity to lead me beyond the bounds
      of affectionate respect. "My dear Bourrienne," said he, "can you suppose
      that the elevated rank I have attained has altered my feelings towards
      you? No. I do not attach importance to the glitter of Imperial pomp; all
      that is meant for the people; but I must still be valued according to my
      deserts. I have been very well satisfied with your services, and I have
      appointed you to a situation where I shall have occasion for them. I know
      that I can rely upon you." He then asked with great warmth of friendship
      what I was about, and inquired after my family, etc. In short, I never saw
      him display less reserve or more familiarity and unaffected simplicity;
      which he did the more readily, perhaps, because his greatness was now
      incontestable.
    
When I arrived at Malmaison, I was led into the tentroom that goes to the library. I was amazed at how friendly and casual he was when he greeted me! This remarkable man showed, if I can use the term, a playful charm towards me that caught me off guard, despite my previous understanding of his character. He approached me with a smile, took my hand (something he hadn't done since he became Consul), held it warmly, and it was impossible for me to see him as the Emperor of France and the future King of Italy. Still, I was too aware of his moments of pride to let his friendliness cross the line into anything more than affectionate respect. "My dear Bourrienne," he said, "do you think that my high position has changed how I feel about you? No. I don’t care about the shine of Imperial glory; that’s all for show. But I want to be recognized for my true worth. I have been very pleased with your work, and I’ve given you a role where I will need your skills. I know I can count on you." He then asked warmly what I was up to and inquired about my family, etc. In short, I had never seen him show less reserve or more openness and genuine simplicity; perhaps he felt more comfortable doing so now that his status was beyond doubt.







      "You know," added Napoleon, "that I set out in a week for Italy. I shall
      make myself King; but that is only a stepping-stone. I have greater
      designs respecting Italy.
    
"You know," Napoleon added, "that I'm leaving for Italy in a week. I'm going to make myself King, but that's just a stepping stone. I have bigger plans for Italy."







      "It must be a kingdom comprising all the Transalpine States, from Venice
      to the Maritime Alps. The union of Italy with France can only be
      temporary; but it is necessary, in order to accustom the nations of Italy
      to live under common laws. The Genoese, the Piedmontese, the Venetians,
      the Milanese, the inhabitants of Tuscany, the Romans, and the Neapolitans,
      hate each other. None of them will acknowledge the superiority of the
      other, and yet Rome is, from the recollections connected with it, the
      natural capital of Italy. To make it so, however, it is necessary that the
      power of the Pope should be confined within limits purely spiritual. I
      cannot now think of this; but I will reflect upon it hereafter. At present
      I have only vague ideas on the subject, but they will be matured in time,
      and then all depends on circumstances. What was it told me, when we were
      walking like two idle fellows, as we were, in the streets of Paris, that I
      should one day be master of France—my wish—merely a vague
      wish. Circumstances have done the rest. It is therefore wise to look into
      the future, and that I do. With respect to Italy, as it will be impossible
      with one effort to unite her so as to form a single power, subject to
      uniform laws, I will begin by making her French. All these little States
      will insensibly become accustomed to the same laws, and when manners shall
      be assimilated and enmities extinguished, then there will be an Italy, and
      I will give her independence. But for that I must have twenty years, and
      who can count on the future? Bourrienne, I feel pleasure in telling you
      all this. It was locked up in my mind. With you I think aloud."
    
"It should be a kingdom that includes all the Transalpine States, from Venice to the Maritime Alps. The alliance between Italy and France can only be temporary; however, it’s necessary to help the people of Italy get used to living under common laws. The Genoese, Piedmontese, Venetians, Milanese, Tuscans, Romans, and Neapolitans all dislike each other. None of them will accept that one is better than the other, yet Rome is, due to its historical significance, the natural capital of Italy. To solidify this, the Pope's power must be limited to spiritual matters. I can't think about this right now, but I’ll reflect on it later. For now, my thoughts are just vague, but they will become clearer over time, and everything depends on the circumstances. Remember when we were just wandering around in the streets of Paris, and someone told me I would someday be in charge of France—something I wanted, just a distant wish. Circumstances have shaped that desire. So, it’s wise to plan for the future, and that’s what I'm doing. Regarding Italy, since it’s impossible to unite her all at once into a single power under uniform laws, I will start by making her part of France. All these small states will gradually adapt to the same laws, and when customs align and hostilities fade away, then there will be an Italy, and I will grant her independence. But I will need twenty years for that, and who can predict the future? Bourrienne, I’m glad to share all this with you. It was locked away in my mind. With you, I can think out loud."







      I do not believe that I have altered two words of what Bonaparte said to
      me respecting Italy, so perfect, I may now say without vanity, was my
      memory then, and so confirmed was my habit of fixing in it all that he
      said to me. After having informed me of his vague projects Bonaparte, with
      one of those transitions so common to him, said, "By the by, Bourrienne, I
      have something to tell you. Madame de Brienne has begged that I will pass
      through Brienne, and I promised that I will. I will not conceal from you
      that I shall feel great pleasure in again beholding the spot which for six
      years was the scene of our boyish sports and studies." Taking advantage of
      the Emperor's good humour I ventured to tell him what happiness it would
      give me if it were possible that I could share with him the revival of all
      recollections which were mutually dear to us. But Napoleon, after a
      moment's pause, said with extreme kindness, "Hark ye, Bourrienne, in your
      situation and mine this cannot be. It is more than two years since we
      parted. What would be said of so sudden a reconciliation? I tell you
      frankly that I have regretted you, and the circumstances in which I have
      frequently been placed have often made me wish to recall you. At Boulogne
      I was quite resolved upon it. Rapp, perhaps, has informed you of it. He
      liked you, and he assured me that he would be delighted at your return.
      But if upon reflection I changed my mind it was because, as I have often
      told you, I will not have it said that I stand in need of any one. No. Go
      to Hamburg. I have formed some projects respecting Germany in which you
      can be useful to me. It is there I will give a mortal blow to England. I
      will deprive her of the Continent,—besides, I have some ideas not
      yet matured which extend much farther. There is not sufficient unanimity
      amongst the nations of Europe. European society must be regenerated—a
      superior power must control the other powers, and compel them to live in
      peace with each other; and France is well situated for that purpose. For
      details you will receive instructions from Talleyrand; but I recommend
      you, above all things, to keep a strict watch on the emigrants. Woe to
      them if they become too dangerous! I know that there are still agitators,—among
      them all the 'Marquis de Versailles', the courtiers of the old school. But
      they are moths who will burn themselves in the candle. You have been an
      emigrant yourself, Bourrienne; you feel a partiality for them, and you
      know that I have allowed upwards of two hundred of them to return upon
      your recommendation. But the case is altered. Those who are abroad are
      hardened. They do not wish to return home. Watch them closely. That is the
      only particular direction I give you. You are to be Minister from France
      to Hamburg; but your place will be an independent one; besides your
      correspondence with the Minister for Foreign Affairs, I authorise you to
      write to me personally, whenever you have anything particular to
      communicate. You will likewise correspond with Fouché."
    
I don't think I've changed a single word of what Bonaparte told me about Italy; my memory was so sharp back then, and I made it a habit to remember everything he said to me. After sharing his vague plans with me, Bonaparte, making one of those transitions he was known for, said, "By the way, Bourrienne, I have something to tell you. Madame de Brienne has asked me to stop by Brienne, and I promised I would. I won't hide from you that I'm looking forward to seeing again the place where we spent six years of our youth playing and studying." Seizing the opportunity to share in the Emperor's good mood, I expressed how happy it would make me if I could join him in recalling those fond memories we both cherished. But Napoleon, after a brief pause, said kindly, "Listen, Bourrienne, given our current situations, that can't happen. It's been over two years since we parted. What would people think of such a sudden reconciliation? Honestly, I've missed you, and there have been times when I've wanted to bring you back. At Boulogne, I was quite determined to do so. Rapp might have told you about it; he liked you and assured me he would be happy to have you back. But on reflection, I changed my mind because, as I've told you before, I don't want it to be said that I need anyone. No. Go to Hamburg. I have plans for Germany where you can be of help to me. That's where I intend to deal a serious blow to England. I will cut her off from the Continent—and beyond that, I have some ideas that are still in the works that go much further. There's not enough agreement among the nations of Europe. European society needs to be renewed—a stronger power must oversee the others and force them to live in peace; France is well-suited for that. For specifics, you will get instructions from Talleyrand; but I strongly advise you to keep a close eye on the emigrants. Woe to them if they become too dangerous! I know there are still agitators, including the 'Marquis de Versailles,' the courtiers from the old guard. But they’re like moths who will end up burning themselves in the flame. You've been an emigrant yourself, Bourrienne; you feel sympathetic towards them, and you know I've allowed more than two hundred of them to return based on your recommendation. But the situation has changed. Those who are abroad have become hardened. They don’t want to come back. Keep a close watch on them. That's the only specific instruction I give you. You are to be the Minister from France to Hamburg; but your position will be an independent one. Besides your correspondence with the Minister for Foreign Affairs, I authorize you to write to me personally whenever you have something important to communicate. You will also correspond with Fouché."







      Here the Emperor remained silent for a moment, and I was preparing to
      retire, but he detained me, saying in the kindest manner, "What, are you
      going already, Bourrienne? Are you in a hurry? Let us chat a little
      longer. God knows, when we may see each other again!" Then after two or
      three moments' silence he said, "The more I reflect on our situation, on
      our former intimacy, and our subsequent separation, the more I see the
      necessity of your going to Hamburg. Go, then, my dear fellow, I advise
      you. Trust me. When do you think of setting out?" "In May."—"In May?
      . . . Ah, I shall be in Milan then, for I wish to stop at Turin. I like
      the Piedmontese; they are the best soldiers in Italy."—"Sire, the
      King of Italy will be the junior of the Emperor of France!"
    
Here the Emperor paused for a moment, and I was getting ready to leave, but he held me back, saying in the kindest way, "What, are you leaving already, Bourrienne? Are you in a rush? Let’s talk a little longer. Who knows when we’ll see each other again!" After a brief silence, he continued, "The more I think about our situation, about our previous closeness, and our later separation, the more I realize you need to go to Hamburg. So go, my dear friend, I recommend it. Trust me. When do you plan to leave?" "In May."—"In May? . . . Ah, I’ll be in Milan then, since I want to stop in Turin. I like the people from Piedmont; they’re the best soldiers in Italy."—"Sire, the King of Italy will be junior to the Emperor of France!"






 —[I alluded to a conversation which I had with Napoleon when we
   first went to the Tuileries. He spoke to me about his projects of
   royalty, and I stated the difficulties which I thought he would
   experience in getting himself acknowledged by the old reigning
   families of Europe. "If it comes to that," he replied. "I will
   dethrone them all, and then I shall be the oldest sovereign among
   them."—Bourrienne.]— 
 —[I mentioned a conversation I had with Napoleon when we first arrived at the Tuileries. He talked to me about his plans for royalty, and I shared the challenges I thought he would face in gaining recognition from the old royal families of Europe. "If it comes to that," he said. "I will overthrow them all, and then I will be the longest-reigning ruler among them."—Bourrienne.]—







      —"Ah! so you recollect what I said one day at the Tuileries; but, my
      dear fellow, I have yet a devilish long way to go before I gain my point."—"At
      the rate, Sire, at which you are going you will not be long in reaching
      it."—"Longer than you imagine. I see all the obstacles in my way;
      but they do not alarm me. England is everywhere, and the struggle is
      between her and me. I see how it will be. The whole of Europe will be our
      instruments; sometimes serving one, sometimes the other, but at bottom the
      dispute is wholly between England and France.
    
—"Ah! so you remember what I said one day at the Tuileries; but, my dear friend, I still have a really long way to go before I achieve my goal."—"At the rate you’re going, Sire, you won’t take long to get there."—"Longer than you think. I see all the obstacles ahead of me; but they don’t scare me. England is everywhere, and the fight is between her and me. I can see how it will play out. The whole of Europe will be our tools; sometimes supporting one, sometimes the other, but ultimately the conflict is entirely between England and France.







      "A propos," said the Emperor, changing the subject, for all who knew him
      are aware that this 'a propos' was his favourite, and, indeed, his only
      mode of transition; a propos, Bourrienne, you surely must have heard of
      the departure of Jaubert,
    
"A propos," said the Emperor, switching topics, because everyone who knew him knew that this 'a propos' was his favorite and really his only way of changing the subject; a propos, Bourrienne, you must have heard about Jaubert's departure,






 —[Amedee Jaubart had been with Napoleon in Egypt, and was appointed
   to the cabinet of the Consul as secretary interpreter of Oriental
   languages. He was sent on several missions to the East, and brought
   back, is 1818, goats from Thibet, naturalising in France the
   manufacture of cashmeres. He became a peer of France under the
   Monarchy of July.]— 
 —[Amedee Jaubart had served with Napoleon in Egypt and was appointed as the secretary interpreter of Eastern languages in the Consul's cabinet. He was sent on several missions to the East and, in 1818, brought back goats from Tibet, introducing the manufacturing of cashmeres in France. He became a peer of France during the July Monarchy.]—







      and his mission. What is said on the subject?"—"Sire, I have only
      heard it slightly alluded to. His father, however, to whom he said nothing
      respecting the object of his journey, knowing I was intimate with Jaubert,
      came to me to ascertain whether I could allay his anxiety respecting a
      journey of the duration of which he could form no idea. The precipitate
      departure of his son had filled him with apprehension I told him the
      truth, viz., that Jaubert had said no more to me on the subject than to
      him."—"Then you do not know where he is gone?"—"I beg your
      pardon, Sire; I know very well."—"How, the devil!" said Bonaparte,
      suddenly turning on me a look of astonishment. "No one, I, declare, has
      ever told me; but I guessed it. Having received a letter from Jaubert
      dated Leipsic, I recollected what your Majesty had often told me of your
      views respecting Persia and India. I have not forgotten our conversation
      in Egypt, nor the great projects which you enfolded to me to relieve the
      solitude and sometimes the weariness of the cabinet of Cairo. Besides, I
      long since knew your opinion of Amedee, of his fidelity, his ability, and
      his courage. I felt convinced, therefore, that he had a mission to the
      Shah of Persia."—"You guessed right; but I beg of you, Bourrienne,
      say nothing of this to any person whatever. Secrecy on this point is of
      great importance. The English would do him an ill turn, for they are well
      aware that my views are directed against their possessions and their
      influence in the East."—"I think, Sire, that my answer to Amedee's
      worthy father is a sufficient guarantee for my discretion. Besides, it was
      a mere supposition on my part, and I could have stated nothing with
      certainty before your Majesty had the kindness to inform me of the fact.
      Instead of going to Hamburg, if your Majesty pleases, I will join Jaubert,
      accompany him to Persia, and undertake half his mission."— "How!
      would you go with him?"—"Yes, Sire; I am much attached to him. He is
      an excellent man, and I am sure that he would not be sorry to have me with
      him."—"But . . . Stop, Bourrienne, . . . this, perhaps, would not be
      a bad idea. You know a little of the East. You are accustomed to the
      climate. You could assist Jaubert. . . . But. . . . No! Daubert must be
      already far off—I, fear you could not overtake him. And besides you
      have a numerous family. You will be more useful to me in Germany. All
      things considered, go to Hamburg—you know the country, and, what is
      better you speak the language."
    
and his mission. What do we know about it?"—"Sire, I’ve only heard a few hints. His father, not knowing the purpose of his journey, came to me because he was worried about his son’s sudden departure and wanted to ease his anxiety since he knew I was close to Jaubert. I told him the truth, which is that Jaubert hasn’t mentioned anything to me either."—"So you don’t know where he’s gone?"—"I’m sorry, Sire; I do know."—"What the hell!" Bonaparte said, giving me a look of surprise. "No one has ever told me; I assumed it. I received a letter from Jaubert dated Leipzig, and I remembered what your Majesty has often shared about your ambitions concerning Persia and India. I haven't forgotten our talks in Egypt or the grand plans you shared to break the monotony of the Cairo cabinet. Besides, I have long recognized your opinion of Amedee, his loyalty, his skills, and his bravery. So, I was convinced that he had a mission for the Shah of Persia."—"You’re correct; but please, Bourrienne, don’t mention this to anyone. It's crucial to keep this a secret. The English would take advantage of it, knowing I’m targeting their holdings and influence in the East."—"I believe, Sire, that my response to Amedee's father ensures my discretion. Moreover, it was just my assumption, and I wouldn’t have stated anything with confidence until your Majesty kindly informed me. Instead of going to Hamburg, if your Majesty allows, I could join Jaubert, accompany him to Persia, and take on half his mission."—"What! You want to go with him?"—"Yes, Sire; I care for him greatly. He’s a wonderful man, and I’m sure he’d appreciate my company."—"But... Wait, Bourrienne, that could actually be a good idea. You know a bit about the East. You're used to the climate. You could help Jaubert... But... No! Daubert is probably already far away—I worry you might not catch up to him. And besides, you have a large family. You’ll be more useful to me in Germany. All things considered, go to Hamburg—you know the area, and, more importantly, you speak the language."







      I could see that Bonaparte still had something to say to me. As we were
      walking up and down the room he stopped; and looking at me with an
      expression of sadness, he said, "Bourrienne, you must, before I proceed to
      Italy, do me a service. You sometimes visit my wife, and it is right; it
      is fit you should. You have been too long one of the family not to
      continue your friendship with her. Go to her.
    
I could see that Bonaparte still had something he wanted to say to me. As we paced back and forth in the room, he stopped and looked at me with a sad expression, saying, "Bourrienne, before I head to Italy, I need you to do me a favor. You sometimes visit my wife, and that's proper; it’s only right that you do. You've been part of the family for too long not to keep up your friendship with her. Go to her."






 —[This employment of Bourrienne to remonstrate with Josephine is a
   complete answer to the charge sometimes made that Napoleon, while
   scolding, really encouraged the foolish expenses of his wife, as
   keeping her under his control. Josephine was incorrigible. "On the
   very day of her death," says Madame de Rémusat "she wished to put on
   a very pretty dressing-gown because she thought the Emperor of
   Russia would perhaps come to see her. She died all covered with
   ribbons and rose-colored satin." "One would not, sure, be frightful
   when one's dead!" As for Josephine's great fault—her failure to
   give Napoleon an heir—he did not always wish for one. In 1802, on
   his brother Jerome jokingly advising Josephine to give the Consul a
   little Caesar. Napoleon broke out, "Yea, that he may end in the
   same manner as that of Alexander? Believe me, Messieurs, that at
   the present time it is better not to have children: I mean when one
   is condemned to rule nations." The fate of the King of Rome shows
   that the exclamation was only too true!]— 
 —[This push for Bourrienne to talk to Josephine is a clear response to the claim that Napoleon, while reprimanding, actually supported his wife's extravagant spending to keep her under his thumb. Josephine was impossible to change. "On the very day of her death," says Madame de Rémusat, "she wanted to wear a beautiful dressing gown because she thought the Emperor of Russia might come to see her. She died adorned with ribbons and rose-colored satin." "One wouldn't want to look terrible when one's dead!" As for Josephine's biggest flaw—failing to give Napoleon an heir—he didn't always want one. In 1802, when his brother Jerome jokingly told Josephine to give the Consul a little Caesar, Napoleon exclaimed, "Yeah, so he can meet the same fate as Alexander? Believe me, gentlemen, right now it’s better not to have children, especially when you're stuck ruling nations." The fate of the King of Rome shows that this statement was unfortunately very true!] 







      "Endeavour once more to make her sensible of her mad extravagance. Every
      day I discover new instances of it, and it distresses me. When I speak to
      her—on the subject I am vexed; I get angry—she weeps. I
      forgive her, I pay her bills—she makes fair promises; but the same
      thing occurs over and over again. If she had only borne me a child! It is
      the torment of my life not to have a child. I plainly perceive that my
      power will never be firmly established until I have one. If I die without
      an heir, not one of my brothers is capable of supplying my place. All is
      begun, but nothing is ended. God knows what will happen! Go and see
      Josephine, and do not forget my injunctions.."
    
"Try once again to make her aware of her crazy spending. Every day I find new examples of it, and it upsets me. When I talk to her about it, I get frustrated; I get angry—she cries. I forgive her, I pay her bills—she makes good promises, but the same thing keeps happening. If only she had given me a child! It's the torture of my life not having one. I can clearly see that my power will never be fully established until I have an heir. If I die without one, none of my brothers can take my place. Everything has started, but nothing is finished. God knows what will happen! Go visit Josephine, and remember my instructions."







      Then he resumed the gaiety which he had exhibited at intervals during our
      conversation, far clouds driven by the wind do not traverse the horizon
      with such rapidity as different ideas and sensations succeeded each other
      in Napoleon's mind. He dismissed me with his usual nod of the head, and
      seeing him in such good humour I said on departing, "well, Sire, you are
      going to hear the old bell of Brienne. I have no doubt it will please you
      better than the bells of Ruel." He replied, "That's true—you are
      right. Adieu!"
    
Then he went back to the cheerfulness he had shown at various points during our conversation; no clouds blown by the wind race across the horizon as quickly as the different ideas and feelings flickered through Napoleon's mind. He sent me off with his usual nod, and seeing him in such a good mood, I said as I left, "Well, Sire, you're about to hear the old bell of Brienne. I'm sure you'll like it better than the bells of Ruel." He replied, "That's true—you’re right. Goodbye!"







      Such are my recollections of this conversation, which lasted for more than
      an hour and a half. We walked about all the time, for Bonaparte was
      indefatigable in audiences of this sort, and would, I believe, have walked
      and talked for a whole day without being aware of it. I left him, and,
      according to his desire, went to see Madame Bonaparte, which indeed I had
      intended to do before he requested it.
    
Such are my memories of this conversation, which lasted over an hour and a half. We kept walking the whole time because Bonaparte was tireless in meetings like this and would, I think, have walked and talked for an entire day without realizing it. I left him and, as he asked, went to see Madame Bonaparte, which I had actually planned to do before he mentioned it.







      I found Josephine with Madame de la Rochefoucauld, who had long been in
      her suite, and who a short time before had obtained the title of lady of
      honour to the Empress. Madame de la Rochefoucauld was a very amiable
      woman, of mild disposition, and was a favourite with Josephine. When I
      told the Empress that I had just left the Emperor, she, thinking that I
      would not speak freely before a third person, made a sign to Madame de la
      Rochefoucauld to retire. I had no trouble in introducing the conversation
      on the subject concerning which Napoleon had directed me to speak to
      Josephine, for; after the interchange of a few indifferent remarks, she
      herself told me of a violent scene, which had occurred between her and the
      Emperor two days before. "When I wrote to you yesterday," said she, "to
      announce your appointment, and to tell you that Bonaparte would recall
      you, I hoped that you would come to see me on quitting him, but I did not
      think that he would have sent for you so soon. Ah! how I wish that you
      were still with him, Bourrienne; you could make him hear reason. I know
      not who takes pleasure in bearing tales to him; but really I think there
      are persons busy everywhere in finding out my debts, and telling him of
      them."
    
I found Josephine with Madame de la Rochefoucauld, who had been part of her circle for a long time and had recently been given the title of lady-in-waiting to the Empress. Madame de la Rochefoucauld was a very friendly woman with a gentle nature, and she was a favorite of Josephine's. When I told the Empress that I had just met with the Emperor, she, thinking I might not speak openly in front of someone else, signaled for Madame de la Rochefoucauld to leave. I had no trouble steering the conversation toward the topic Napoleon had asked me to discuss with Josephine, because after exchanging a few casual remarks, she opened up about a heated argument that had happened between her and the Emperor two days earlier. "When I wrote to you yesterday," she said, "to let you know about your appointment and to say that Bonaparte would recall you, I hoped you would come to see me right after your meeting with him, but I didn’t expect he would send for you so soon. Oh, how I wish you were still with him, Bourrienne; you could make him see reason. I don’t know who enjoys spreading rumors to him, but honestly, I feel like there are people everywhere trying to dig up my debts and report them to him."







      These complaints, so gently uttered by Josephine rendered less difficult
      the preparatory mission with which I commenced the exercise of my
      diplomatic functions. I acquainted Madame Bonaparte with all that the
      Emperor had said to me. I reminded her of the affair of the 1,200,000
      francs which we had settled with half that sum. I even dropped some
      allusions to the promises she had made.
    
These complaints, softly spoken by Josephine, made the initial task of my diplomatic duties easier. I informed Madame Bonaparte about everything the Emperor had told me. I reminded her of the issue regarding the 1,200,000 francs that we had resolved with only half that amount. I even hinted at some of the promises she had made.







      "How can I help it?" Said she. "Is it my fault?" Josephine uttered these
      words in a tone of sincerity which was at once affecting and ludicrous.
      "All sorts of beautiful things are brought to me," she continued; "they
      are praised up; I buy them—I am not asked for the money, and all of
      a sudden, when I have got none, they come upon me with demands for
      payment. This reaches Napoleon's ears, and he gets angry. When I have
      money, Bourrienne you know how I employ it. I give it principally to the
      unfortunate who solicit my assistance, and to poor emigrants. But I will
      try to be more economical in future. Tell him so if you see him again, But
      is it not my duty to bestow as much in charity as I can?"—"Yes,
      Madame; but permit me to say that nothing requires greater discernment
      than the distribution of charity. If you had always sat upon a throne you
      might have always supposed that your bounty always fall into the hands of
      the deserving; but you cannot be ignorant that it oftener falls to the lot
      of intrigue than to the meritorious needy. I cannot disguise from you that
      the Emperor was very earnest when he spoke on this subject; and he desired
      me to tell you so."—"Did he reproach me with nothing else?"—"No
      Madame. You know the influence you have over him with respect to
      everything but what relates to politics. Allow a faithful and sincere
      friend to prevail upon you seriously not to vex him on this point."—"Bourrienne,
      I give you my word. Adieu! my friend."
    
"How can I help it?" she said. "Is it my fault?" Josephine said this with a sincerity that was both touching and silly. "All kinds of lovely things are brought to me," she continued; "they get a lot of praise, I buy them—I’m not asked for the money, and suddenly, when I'm broke, they come to me demanding payment. This reaches Napoleon's ears, and he gets mad. When I have money, Bourrienne, you know how I use it. I mostly give it to those in need who ask for my help, and to poor emigrants. But I’ll try to be more careful with my spending from now on. Tell him that if you see him again. But isn’t it my duty to give as much to charity as I can?"—"Yes, Madame; but may I say that nothing requires more discernment than distributing charity. If you had always been on a throne, you might have thought your generosity always goes to the deserving; but you must know it often goes to those who are crafty rather than to those truly in need. I can't hide from you that the Emperor was very serious when he talked about this; he wanted me to tell you that."—"Did he criticize me about anything else?"—"No, Madame. You know the influence you have over him regarding everything except politics. Let a loyal and sincere friend advise you not to upset him on this matter."—"Bourrienne, I promise you. Goodbye, my friend."







      In communicating to Josephine what the Emperor had said to me I took care
      not to touch a chord which would have awakened feelings far more painful
      to her than even the Emperor's harsh reproof on account of her
      extravagance. Poor Josephine! how I should have afflicted her had I
      uttered a word of Bonaparte's regret at not having a child. She always had
      a presentiment of the fate that one day awaited her. Besides, Josephine
      told the truth in assuring me that it was not her fault that, she spent as
      she did; at least all the time I was with both of them, order and economy
      were no more compatible with her than moderation and—patience with
      Napoleon. The sight of the least waste put him beside himself, and that
      was a sensation his wife hardly ever spared him. He saw with irritation
      the eagerness of his family to gain riches; the more he gave, the more
      insatiable they appeared, with the exception of Louis, whose inclinations
      were always upright, and his tastes moderate. As for the other members of
      his family, they annoyed him so much by their importunity that one day he
      said, "Really to listen to them it would be thought that I had wasted the
      heritage of our father."
    
While sharing with Josephine what the Emperor had told me, I made sure not to bring up anything that would trigger feelings far more painful for her than the Emperor's harsh criticism of her spending habits. Poor Josephine! I would have truly hurt her if I mentioned Bonaparte's regret about not having a child. She always had a sense of the fate that awaited her one day. Plus, Josephine was right when she said it wasn’t entirely her fault for spending the way she did; during the entire time I spent with both of them, order and frugality were just as incompatible with her as moderation and patience were with Napoleon. The slightest waste drove him mad, and that was a feeling his wife rarely spared him. He would get annoyed at his family's eagerness to accumulate wealth; the more he gave, the more they seemed to want, except for Louis, whose inclinations were always honorable and whose tastes were moderate. As for the other members of his family, they bothered him so much with their demands that one day he remarked, "Honestly, if you listened to them, you’d think I had squandered our father’s inheritance."








 


 




















      CHAPTER XXXI.
    



      1805
    
1805


   Napoleon and Voltaire—Demands of the Holy See—Coolness between the
   pope and the Emperor—Napoleon's departure for Italy—Last interview
   between the Pope and the Emperor at Turin—Alessandria—The field of
   Marengo—The last Doge of Genoa—Bonaparte's arrival at Milan—Union
   of Genoa to the French Empire—Error in the Memorial of St. Helen—
   Bonaparte and Madam Grassini—Symptoms of dissatisfaction on the
   part of Austria and Russia—Napoleon's departure from Milan—
   Monument to commemorate the battle of Marengo—Napoleon's arrival in
   Paris and departure for Boulogne—Unfortunate result of a naval
   engagement—My visit to Fouché's country seat—Sieyès, Barras, the
   Bourbons, and Bonaparte—Observations respecting Josephine.

   Napoleon and Voltaire—Demands from the Vatican—Tension between the pope and the Emperor—Napoleon's trip to Italy—Final meeting between the Pope and the Emperor in Turin—Alessandria—The Battle of Marengo—The last Doge of Genoa—Bonaparte's arrival in Milan—Genoa's annexation to the French Empire—Mistake in the Memorial of St. Helena—Bonaparte and Madame Grassini—Signs of unrest from Austria and Russia—Napoleon's departure from Milan—Monument to honor the Battle of Marengo—Napoleon's return to Paris and departure for Boulogne—Unfortunate outcome of a naval battle—My visit to Fouché's estate—Sieyès, Barras, the Bourbons, and Bonaparte—Comments about Josephine.







      Voltaire says that it is very well to kiss the feet of Popes provided
      their hands are tied. Notwithstanding the slight estimation in which
      Bonaparte held Voltaire, he probably, without being aware of this
      irreverent satire, put it into practice. The Court of Rome gave him the
      opportunity of doing so shortly after his Coronation. The Pope, or rather
      the Cardinals, his advisers' conceiving that so great an instance of
      complaisance as the journey of His Holiness to Paris ought not to go for
      nothing; demanded a compensation, which, had they been better acquainted
      with Bonaparte's character and policy, they would never have dreamed of
      soliciting. The Holy see demanded the restitution of Avignon, Bologna, and
      some parts of the Italian territory which had formerly been subject to the
      Pope's dominion. It may be imagined how such demands were received by
      Napoleon, particularly after he had obtained all he wanted from the Pope.
      It was, it must be confessed, a great mistake of the Court of Rome, whose
      policy is usually so artful and adroit, not to make this demand till after
      the Coronation. Had it been made the condition of the Pope's journey to
      France perhaps Bonaparte would have consented to give up, not Avignon,
      certainly, but the Italian territories, with the intention of taking them
      back again. Be this as it may, these tardy claims, which were peremptorily
      rejected, created an extreme coolness between Napoleon and Pius VII. The
      public did not immediately perceive it, but there is in the public an
      instinct of reason which the most able politicians never can impose upon;
      and all eyes were opened when it was known that the Pope, after having
      crowned Napoleon as Emperor of France, refused to crown him as sovereign
      of the regenerated kingdom of Italy.
    
Voltaire said it's fine to kiss the feet of Popes as long as their hands are tied. Despite his low opinion of Voltaire, Bonaparte likely unknowingly put this irreverent joke into action. The Court of Rome gave him the chance to do so shortly after his Coronation. The Pope, or rather the Cardinals who advised him, thought that such a significant act of courtesy as the Pope's visit to Paris shouldn't go unreciprocated; they asked for compensation that, if they had understood Bonaparte's character and strategies better, they would never have imagined requesting. The Holy See wanted the return of Avignon, Bologna, and some parts of the Italian territory that were once under the Pope’s control. One can imagine how Napoleon reacted to such demands, especially after he had already gotten everything he wanted from the Pope. It was indeed a major mistake by the Court of Rome, known for its cunning and skill, to wait until after the Coronation to make this demand. Had it been a condition for the Pope's trip to France, Bonaparte might have agreed to give up at least some Italian territories, even if not Avignon, with the plan to reclaim them later. In any case, these late demands, which were firmly dismissed, caused a serious rift between Napoleon and Pius VII. The public didn’t notice it right away, but people have a natural instinct for reason that even the most clever politicians can't deceive; everyone realized something was off when it became clear that the Pope, after crowning Napoleon as Emperor of France, refused to crown him as the ruler of the newly established kingdom of Italy.







      Napoleon left Paris on the 1st of April to take possession of the Iron
      Crown at Milan. The Pope remained some time longer in the French capital.
      The prolonged presence of His Holiness was not without its influence on
      the religious feelings of the people, so great was the respect inspired by
      the benign countenance and mild manners of the Pope. When the period of
      his persecutions arrived it would have been well for Bonaparte had Pius
      VII. never been seen in Paris, for it was impossible to view in any other
      light than as a victim the man whose truly evangelic meekness had been
      duly appreciated.
    
Napoleon left Paris on April 1st to take possession of the Iron Crown in Milan. The Pope stayed in the French capital for a while longer. His Holiness’s extended visit had a significant impact on the religious sentiments of the people, as his kind demeanor and gentle personality inspired great respect. When the time came for Bonaparte's persecutions, it would have been better for him if Pius VII had never been seen in Paris because it was hard not to see the man whose genuine, Christ-like humility had been well recognized as a victim.







      Bonaparte did not evince great impatience to seize the Crown of Italy,
      which he well knew could not escape him. He stayed a considerable time at
      Turin, where he resided in the Stupinis Palace, which may be called the
      St. Cloud of the Kings of Sardinia. The Emperor cajoled the Piedmontese.
      General Menou, who was made Governor of Piedmont, remained there till
      Napoleon founded the general government of the Transalpine departments in
      favour of his brother-in-law, the Prince Borghese, of whom he would have,
      found it difficult to make anything else than a Roman Prince. Napoleon was
      still at Turin when the Pope passed through that city on his return to
      Rome. Napoleon had a final interview with His Holiness to whom he now
      affected to show the greatest personal deference. From Turin Bonaparte
      proceeded to Alessandria, where he commenced those immense works on which
      such vast sums were expended. He had many times spoken to me of his
      projects respecting Alessandria, as I have already observed, all his great
      measures as Emperor were merely the execution of projects conceived at a
      time when his future elevation could have been only a dream of the
      imagination. He one day said to Berthier, in my presence, during our
      sojurn at Milan after the battle of Marengo, "With Alessandria in my
      possession I should always be master of Italy. It might be made the
      strongest fortress in the world; it is capable of containing a garrison of
      40,000 men, with provisions for six months. Should insurrection take
      place, should Austria send a formidable force here, the French troops
      might retire to Alessandria, and stand a six months' siege. Six months
      would be more than sufficient, wherever I might be, to enable me to fall
      upon Italy, rout the Austrians, and raise the siege of Alessandria!"
    
Bonaparte wasn't overly eager to grab the Crown of Italy, knowing well that it was already his for the taking. He spent a significant amount of time in Turin, where he stayed in the Stupinis Palace, often compared to the St. Cloud of the Kings of Sardinia. The Emperor charmed the Piedmontese. General Menou, appointed Governor of Piedmont, remained there until Napoleon established the general government of the Transalpine departments in favor of his brother-in-law, Prince Borghese, who could only realistically be considered a Roman Prince. Napoleon was still in Turin when the Pope passed through on his way back to Rome. He had a final meeting with His Holiness, to whom he pretended to show the utmost respect. After Turin, Bonaparte went to Alessandria, where he began those massive projects that consumed massive amounts of money. He often spoke to me about his plans for Alessandria, as I have noted before; all his major initiatives as Emperor were simply the fulfillment of ideas he had when his rise to power seemed only a distant dream. One day, he told Berthier, in my presence, during our stay in Milan after the battle of Marengo, "With Alessandria in my control, I'd always be in charge of Italy. It could be turned into the strongest fortress in the world; it can hold a garrison of 40,000 men with supplies for six months. If there were a rebellion or if Austria sent a strong force here, the French troops could retreat to Alessandria and withstand a six-month siege. Six months would be more than enough time, wherever I might be, to launch a counter-attack in Italy, defeat the Austrians, and lift the siege of Alessandria!"







      As he was so near the field of Marengo the Emperor did not fail to visit
      it, and to add to this solemnity he reviewed on the field all the corps of
      French troops which were in Italy. Rapp told me afterwards that the
      Emperor had taken with him from Paris the dress and the hat which he wore
      on the day of that memorable battle, with the intention of wearing them on
      the field where it was fought. He afterwards proceeded by the way of Casal
      to Milan.
    
As he was so close to the Marengo battlefield, the Emperor made sure to visit it. To enhance this important occasion, he reviewed all the French troops stationed in Italy on that field. Rapp later told me that the Emperor had brought with him from Paris the uniform and hat he wore on the day of that famous battle, intending to wear them at the site where it took place. He then continued his journey via Casal to Milan.







      There the most brilliant reception he had yet experienced awaited him. His
      sojourn at Milan was not distinguished by outward demonstrations of
      enthusiasm alone. M. Durszzo, the last Doge of Genoa, added another gem to
      the Crown of Italy by supplicating the Emperor in the name of the
      Republic, of which he was the representative, to permit Genoa to exchange
      her independence for the honour of becoming a department of France. This
      offer, as may be guessed, was merely a plan contrived beforehand. It was
      accepted with an air of protecting kindness, and at the same moment that
      the country of Andrea Doria was effaced from the list of nations its last
      Doge was included among the number of French Senators. Genoa, which
      formerly prided herself in her surname, the Superb, became the chief
      station of the twenty-seventh military division. The Emperor went to take
      possession of the city in person, and slept in the Doria Palace, in the
      bed where Charles V. had lain. He left M. le Brun at Genoa as
      Governor-General.
    
There, the most impressive reception he had ever experienced awaited him. His time in Milan wasn't just marked by outward signs of enthusiasm. M. Durszzo, the last Doge of Genoa, added another achievement to Italy’s legacy by pleading with the Emperor on behalf of the Republic he represented, asking for Genoa to give up its independence for the honor of becoming a department of France. This offer, as one might expect, was a plan arranged in advance. It was accepted with a sense of protective kindness, and at the same moment that the country of Andrea Doria disappeared from the list of nations, its last Doge was included among the French Senators. Genoa, which once took pride in being called the Superb, became the main hub of the twenty-seventh military division. The Emperor went to take possession of the city himself and stayed in the Doria Palace, in the same bed where Charles V. had slept. He left M. le Brun in charge as Governor-General.







      At Milan the Emperor occupied the Palace of Monza. The old Iron Crown of
      the Kings of Lombardy was brought from the dust in which it had been
      buried, and the new Coronation took place in the cathedral at Milan, the
      largest in Italy, with the exception of St. Peter's at Rome. Napoleon
      received the crown from the hands of the Archbishop of Milan, and placed
      it on his head, exclaiming, "Dieu me l'a donnee, gare a qui la touche."
      This became the motto of the Order of the Iron Crown, which the Emperor
      founded in commemoration of his being crowned King of Italy.
    
At Milan, the Emperor took over the Palace of Monza. The old Iron Crown of the Kings of Lombardy was retrieved from the dust where it had been buried, and the new coronation happened in the cathedral at Milan, the largest in Italy, except for St. Peter's in Rome. Napoleon received the crown from the Archbishop of Milan and placed it on his head, exclaiming, "God gave it to me; watch out for anyone who touches it." This became the motto of the Order of the Iron Crown, which the Emperor established to commemorate his coronation as King of Italy.







      Napoleon was crowned in the month of May 1805: and here I cannot avoid
      correcting some gross and inconceivable errors into which Napoleon must
      have voluntarily fallen at St. Helena. The Memorial states "that the
      celebrated singer Madame Grasaini attracted his attention at the time of
      the Coronation." Napoleon alleges that Madame Grassini on that occasion
      said to him, "When I was in the prime of my beauty and talent all I wished
      was that you would bestow a single look upon me. That wish was not
      fulfilled, and now you notice me when I am no longer worthy your
      attention."
    
Napoleon was crowned in May 1805, and I can’t help but correct some serious and unbelievable mistakes that Napoleon must have willingly made while at St. Helena. The Memorial claims that the famous singer Madame Grassini caught his eye during the Coronation. Napoleon says that Madame Grassini told him at that time, “When I was at the height of my beauty and talent, all I wanted was for you to give me a single glance. That wish wasn’t granted, and now you notice me when I’m no longer deserving of your attention.”







      I confess I am at a loss to conceive what could induce Napoleon to invent
      such a story. He might have recollected his acquaintance with Madame
      Grassini at Milan before the battle of Marengo. It was in 1800, and not in
      1805, that I was first introduced to her, and I know that I several times
      took tea with her and Bonaparte in the General's apartments I remember
      also another circumstance, which is, that on the night when I awoke
      Bonaparte to announce to him the capitulation of Genoa, Madame Grassini
      also awoke. Napoleon was charmed with Madame Grasaini's delicious voice,
      and if his imperious duties had permitted it he would have listened with
      ecstasy to her singing for hours together. Whilst Napoleon was at Milan,
      priding himself on his double sovereignty, some schemes were set on foot
      at Vienna and St. Petersburg which I shall hereafter have occasion to
      notice. The Emperor, indeed, gave cause for just complaint by the fact of
      annexing Genoa to the Empire within four months after his solemn
      declaration to the Legislative Body, in which he pledged himself in the
      face of France and Europe not to seek any aggrandisement of territory. The
      pretext of a voluntary offer on the part of Genoa was too absurd to
      deceive any one. The rapid progress of Napoleon's ambition could not
      escape the observation of the Cabinet of Vienna, which began to allow
      increased symptoms of hostility. The change which was effected in the form
      of the Government of the Cisalpine Republic was likewise an act calculated
      to excite remonstrance on the part of all the powers who were not entirely
      subject to the yoke of France. He disguised the taking of Genoa under the
      name of a gift, and the possession of Italy under the appearance of a mere
      change of denomination. Notwithstanding these flagrant outrages the
      exclusive apologists of Napoleon have always asserted that he did not wish
      for war, and he himself maintained that assertion at St. Helena. It is
      said that he was always attacked, and hence a conclusion is drawn in
      favour of his love of peace. I acknowledge Bonaparte would never have
      fired a single musket-shot if all the powers of Europe had submitted to be
      pillaged by him one after the other without opposition. It was in fact
      declaring war against them to place them under the necessity of breaking a
      peace, during the continuance of which he was augmenting his power, and
      gratifying his ambition, as if in defiance of Europe. In this way Napoleon
      commenced all the wars in which he was engaged, with the exception of that
      which followed the peace of Marengo, and which terminated in Moreau's
      triumph at Hohenlinden. As there was no liberty of the press in France he
      found it easy to deceive the nation. He was in fact attacked, and thus he
      enjoyed the pleasure of undertaking his great military expeditions without
      being responsible in the event of failure.
    
I admit I'm struggling to understand why Napoleon would make up such a story. He might have remembered his connection with Madame Grassini in Milan before the Battle of Marengo. It was in 1800, not in 1805, that I first met her, and I know I often had tea with her and Bonaparte in the General's rooms. I also recall that on the night I woke Bonaparte to tell him about the capitulation of Genoa, Madame Grassini was also awake. Napoleon was captivated by Madame Grassini's beautiful voice, and if his busy schedule had allowed it, he would have happily listened to her sing for hours. While Napoleon was in Milan, boasting about his dual sovereignty, there were plans being made in Vienna and St. Petersburg that I will discuss later. The Emperor caused legitimate complaints when he annexed Genoa to the Empire just four months after his formal promise to the Legislative Body, where he assured France and Europe that he wouldn't seek any territorial expansion. The claim that Genoa willingly offered itself was too ridiculous to fool anyone. The quick rise of Napoleon's ambition couldn't escape the attention of the Cabinet in Vienna, which started to show more signs of hostility. The change made to the government of the Cisalpine Republic was also sure to provoke objections from all the powers that weren't completely under France's control. He disguised taking Genoa as a gift and portrayed the hold over Italy as just a mere change in name. Despite these blatant wrongdoings, Napoleon's staunch defenders have always claimed he didn't want war, and he maintained that claim even at St. Helena. It's said that he was always the one attacked, leading to the conclusion that he loved peace. I admit Bonaparte would never have fired a single shot if all the powers in Europe had simply surrendered to his plundering one after the other without resistance. It was, in fact, a declaration of war against them to force them to break a peace during which he was increasing his power and feeding his ambition, as if in defiance of Europe. This is how Napoleon initiated all the wars he participated in, except for the one that followed the peace of Marengo, which ended in Moreau's victory at Hohenlinden. Since there was no freedom of the press in France, he easily misled the nation. He was indeed attacked, allowing him the pleasure of embarking on his grand military campaigns without facing the consequences if they failed.







      During the Emperor's stay in the capital of the new kingdom of Italy he
      received the first intelligence of the dissatisfaction of Austria and
      Russia. That dissatisfaction was not of recent date. When I entered on my
      functions at Hamburg I learned some curious details (which I will relate
      in their proper place) respecting the secret negotiations which had been
      carried on for a considerable time previously to the commencement of
      hostilities. Even Prussia was no stranger to the dissatisfaction of
      Austria and Russia; I do not mean the King, but the Cabinet of Berlin,
      which was then under the control of Chancellor Hardenberg; for the King of
      Prussia had always personally declared himself in favour of the exact
      observance of treaties, even when their conditions were not honourable. Be
      that as it may, the Cabinet of Berlin, although dissatisfied in 1806 with
      the rapid progress of Napoleon's ambition, was nevertheless constrained to
      conceal its discontent, owing to the presence of the French troops in
      Hanover.
    
While the Emperor was in the capital of the new kingdom of Italy, he received the first news about Austria and Russia being unhappy. This discontent wasn't new. When I started my role in Hamburg, I discovered some interesting details (which I'll share later) about the secret talks that had been going on for quite a while before the fighting began. Even Prussia was aware of Austria and Russia's dissatisfaction; I'm not talking about the King, but the Berlin Cabinet, which was then led by Chancellor Hardenberg. The King of Prussia had always made it clear that he supported strict adherence to treaties, even if their terms were not fair. Regardless, the Berlin Cabinet, although unhappy in 1806 with the swift rise of Napoleon's power, had to hide its frustration because of the French troops stationed in Hanover.







      On returning from Milan the Emperor ordered the erection, of a monument on
      the Great St. Bernard in commemoration of the victory of Marengo. M. Denon
      who accompanied Napoleon, told me that he made a useless search to
      discover the body of Desaix, which Bonaparte wished to be buried beneath
      the monument and that it was at length found by General Savary. It is
      therefore certain that the ashes of the brave Desaix repose on the summit
      of the Alps.
    
Upon returning from Milan, the Emperor ordered a monument to be built on the Great St. Bernard to commemorate the victory at Marengo. M. Denon, who was with Napoleon, told me that he conducted a pointless search to find the body of Desaix, which Bonaparte wanted buried beneath the monument, and it was eventually located by General Savary. Therefore, it is clear that the remains of the brave Desaix rest on the summit of the Alps.







      The Emperor arrived in Paris about the end of June and instantly set off
      for the camp at Boulogne. It was now once more believed that the project
      of invading England would be accomplished. This idea obtained the greater
      credit because Bonaparte caused some experiments for embarkation to be
      made, in his presence. These experiments, however, led to no result. About
      this period a fatal event but too effectually contributed to strengthen
      the opinion of the inferiority of our navy. A French squadron consisting
      of fifteen ships, fell in with the English fleet commanded by Admiral
      Calder, who had only nine vessels under his command, and in an engagement,
      which there was every reason to expect would terminate in our favour, we
      had the misfortune to lose two ships. The invasion of England was as
      little the object of this as of the previous journey to Boulogne; all
      Napoleon had in view was to stimulate the enthusiasm of the troops, and to
      hold out those threats against England when conceived necessary for
      diverting attention from the real motive of his hostile preparations,
      which was to invade Germany and repulse the Russian troops, who had begun
      their march towards Austria. Such was the true object of Napoleons last
      journey to Boulogne.
    
The Emperor arrived in Paris around the end of June and immediately set off for the camp at Boulogne. Once again, people believed that the plan to invade England would be realized. This belief gained traction because Bonaparte had some embarkation trials conducted in his presence. However, these trials yielded no outcome. Around this time, a tragic event significantly reinforced the perception of our navy's inferiority. A French squadron consisting of fifteen ships encountered the English fleet led by Admiral Calder, who had only nine vessels. In a battle that many expected would end in our favor, we unfortunately lost two ships. The invasion of England was not the goal of this trip, just as it hadn’t been for previous journeys to Boulogne; all Napoleon aimed to do was to boost the troops' enthusiasm and issue threats against England when he thought it necessary to distract from the true intention of his military preparations, which was to invade Germany and fend off the Russian forces that were marching toward Austria. That was the actual purpose of Napoleon's last trip to Boulogne.







      I had been some time at Hamburg when these events took place, and it was
      curious to observe the effect they produced. But I must not forget one
      circumstance in which I am personally concerned, and which brings me back
      to the time when I was in Paris. My new title of Minister Plenipotentiary
      obliged me to see a little more of society than during the period when
      prudence required me to live as it were in retirement. I had received
      sincere congratulations from Duroc, Rape, and Lauriston, the three friends
      who had shown the greatest readiness to serve my interests with the
      Emperor; and I had frequent occasion to see M. Talleyrand, as my functions
      belonged to his department. The Emperor, on my farewell audience, having
      informed me that I was to correspond directly with the Minister of the
      General Police, I called on Fouché, who invited me to spend some days at
      his estate of Pont-Carre. I accepted the invitation because I wanted to
      confer with him, and I spent Sunday and Monday, the 28th and 29th of
      April, at Pont-Carre.
    
I had been in Hamburg for a while when these events happened, and it was interesting to see the impact they had. But I must mention one detail that's personally relevant to me, and it takes me back to my time in Paris. My new title as Minister Plenipotentiary required me to socialize more than I had during the time I needed to be somewhat reclusive. I received heartfelt congratulations from Duroc, Rape, and Lauriston, my three friends who were most willing to support my interests with the Emperor; and I often had to meet with M. Talleyrand since my duties fell under his department. During my farewell meeting, the Emperor told me that I would be communicating directly with the Minister of the General Police, so I reached out to Fouché, who invited me to spend a few days at his estate in Pont-Carre. I accepted the invitation because I wanted to talk with him, and I spent Sunday and Monday, April 28th and 29th, at Pont-Carre.







      Fouché, like the Emperor, frequently revealed what he intended to conceal;
      but he had such a reputation for cunning that this sort of indiscretion
      was attended by no inconvenience to him. He was supposed to be such a
      constant dissembler that those who did not know him well looked upon the
      truth when he spoke it merely as an artful snare laid to entrap them. I,
      however, knew that celebrated person too well to confound his cunning with
      his indiscretion. The best way to get out of him more than he was aware of
      was to let him talk on without interruption. There were very few visitors
      at Pont-Carre, and during the two days I spent there I had several
      conversations with Fouché. He told me a great deal about the events of
      1804, and he congratulated himself on having advised Napoleon to declare
      himself Emperor—"I have no preference," says Fouché, "for one form
      of government more than another. Forms signify nothing. The first object
      of the Revolution was not the overthrow of the Bourbons, but merely the
      reform of abuses and the destruction of prejudices. However, when it was
      discovered that Louis XVI. had neither firmness to refuse what he did not
      wish to grant, nor good faith to grant what his weakness had led him to
      promise, it was evident that the Bourbons could no longer reign over
      France and things were carried to such a length that we were under the
      necessity of condemning Louis XVI. and resorting to energetic measures.
      You know all that passed up to the 18th Brumaire, and after. We all
      perceived that a Republic could not exist in France; the question,
      therefore, was to ensure the perpetual removal of the Bourbons; and I
      believed the only means for so doing was to transfer the inheritance of
      their throne to another family. Some time before the 18th Brumaire I had a
      conversation with Sieyès and Barras, in which it was proposed, in case of
      the Directory being threatened, to recall the Duke of Orleans; and I could
      see very well that Barras favoured that suggestion, although he alluded to
      it merely as a report that was circulated about, and recommended me to pay
      attention to it. Sieyès said nothing, and I settled the question by
      observing, that if any such thing had been agitated I must have been
      informed of it through the reports of my agents. I added, that the
      restoration of the throne to a collateral branch of the Bourbons would be
      an impolitic act, and would but temporarily change the position of those
      who had brought about the Revolution. I rendered an account of this
      interview with Barras to General Bonaparte the first time I had an
      opportunity of conversing with him after your return from Egypt. I sounded
      him; and I was perfectly convinced that in the state of decrepitude into
      which the Directory had fallen he was just the man we wanted. I therefore
      adopted such measures with the police as tended to promote his elevation
      to the First Magistracy. He soon showed himself ungrateful, and instead of
      giving me all his confidence he tried to outwit me. He put into the hands
      of a number of persons various matters of police which were worse than
      useless. Most of their agents, who were my creatures, obeyed my
      instructions in their reports; and it often happened that the First Consul
      thought he had discovered, through the medium of others, information that
      came from me, and of the falsehood of which I easily convinced him. I
      confess I was at fault on the 3d Nivoise; but are there any human means of
      preventing two men, who have no accomplices, from bringing a plot to
      execution? You saw the First Consul on his return from the opera; you
      heard all his declamations. I felt assured that the infernal machine was
      the work of the Royalists. I told the Emperor this, and he was, I am sure,
      convinced of it; but he, nevertheless, proscribes a number of men on the
      mere pretence of their old opinions. Do you suppose I am ignorant of what
      he said of me and of my vote at the National Convention? Most assuredly it
      ill becomes him to reproach the Conventionists. It was that vote which
      placed the crown upon his head. But for the situation in which we were
      placed by that event, which circumstances had rendered inevitable, what
      should we have cared for the chance of seeing the Bourbons return? You
      must have remarked that the Republicans, who were not Conventionists, were
      in general more averse than we to the proceedings of the 18th Brumaire,
      as, for example, Bernadotte and Moreau. I know positively that Moreau was
      averse to the Consulate; and that it was only from irresolution that he
      accepted the custody of the Directory. I know also that he excused himself
      to his prisoners for the duty which had devolved upon him. They themselves
      told me this."
    
Fouché, like the Emperor, often revealed what he meant to keep hidden; but he had such a reputation for cleverness that this kind of indiscretion didn’t cause him any trouble. People thought he was such a constant deceiver that those who didn't know him well saw the truth when he spoke it as just a clever trap to ensnare them. However, I knew that famous person too well to confuse his cleverness with his indiscretion. The best way to get him to reveal more than he realized was to let him talk without interruption. There were very few visitors at Pont-Carre, and during the two days I was there, I had several conversations with Fouché. He shared a lot about the events of 1804 and took pride in having advised Napoleon to declare himself Emperor—"I don’t have a preference," Fouché said, "for one form of government over another. Forms mean nothing. The main goal of the Revolution was not to overthrow the Bourbons but to reform abuses and eliminate prejudices. However, once it became clear that Louis XVI. neither had the strength to refuse what he didn't want to grant nor the integrity to give what his weakness led him to promise, it was clear that the Bourbons could no longer rule France, and things escalated to the point where we had to condemn Louis XVI. and take decisive action. You know everything that happened up to the 18th Brumaire, and afterward. We all realized that a Republic couldn't exist in France; thus, the question was how to ensure the Bourbons were permanently removed from power; and I believed the only way to do that was to pass on the inheritance of their throne to another family. Some time before the 18th Brumaire, I had a conversation with Sieyès and Barras, where it was suggested that if the Directory was threatened, we should bring back the Duke of Orleans; and I could clearly see that Barras supported that idea, even though he mentioned it only as a rumor and advised me to keep an eye on it. Sieyès said nothing, and I concluded the discussion by saying that if any such thing had been discussed, I would have heard about it through my agents' reports. I added that restoring the throne to a collateral branch of the Bourbons would be a misguided move, merely changing the positions of those who caused the Revolution temporarily. I reported this discussion with Barras to General Bonaparte the first chance I got to talk to him after your return from Egypt. I tested him; and I was completely convinced that given the weakened state of the Directory, he was exactly the person we needed. I therefore took steps with the police to support his rise to the First Magistracy. He soon proved ungrateful, and instead of giving me his full trust, he tried to outsmart me. He handed off various police matters to several people that were worse than useless. Most of their agents, who were under my influence, followed my instructions in their reports; and it often happened that the First Consul thought he had uncovered information through others that really came from me, and I easily showed him it was false. I admit I was at fault on the 3rd Nivoise; but is there any way to stop two men, who have no accomplices, from carrying out a plot? You saw the First Consul when he came back from the opera; you heard all his speeches. I was convinced that the infernal machine was the work of the Royalists. I told the Emperor this, and I’m sure he believed it; but he still banned several people just based on their old opinions. Do you think I don't know what he said about me and my vote at the National Convention? It's certainly inappropriate for him to criticize the Conventionists. That vote was what placed the crown on his head. If it weren't for the situation we found ourselves in because of that event, which circumstances made unavoidable, we wouldn’t have cared about the possibility of the Bourbons returning. You must have noticed that the Republicans, who were not Conventionists, were generally even more opposed than we were to the proceedings of the 18th Brumaire, like Bernadotte and Moreau. I know for certain that Moreau was against the Consulate; and that he only accepted the role of overseeing the Directory out of uncertainty. I also know that he apologized to his prisoners for the duty he had to perform. They themselves told me this."







      Fouché entered further into many details respecting his conduct, and the
      motives which had urged him to do what he did in favour of the First
      Consul. My memory does not enable me to report all he told me, but I
      distinctly recollect that the impression made on my mind by what fell from
      him was, that he had acted merely with a view to his own interests. He did
      not conceal his satisfaction at having outwitted Regnier, and obliged
      Bonaparte to recall him, that he set in motion every spring calculated to
      unite the conspirators, or rather to convert the discontented into
      conspirators, is evident from the following remarks which fell from him:
      "With the information I possessed, had I remained in office it is probable
      that I might have prevented the conspiracy, but Bonaparte would still have
      had to fear the rivalry of Moreau. He would not have been Emperor; and we
      should still have had to dread the return of the Bourbons, of which, thank
      God, there is now no fear."
    
Fouché went into a lot of detail about his actions and the reasons that drove him to support the First Consul. I can't recall everything he shared, but I clearly remember that I was left with the impression that he acted solely out of self-interest. He didn’t hide his pleasure at having outsmarted Regnier and forcing Bonaparte to bring him back. It's clear from his comments that he worked to unite the conspirators, or rather to turn the dissatisfied into conspirators. He said, "With the information I had, if I had stayed in office, I might have been able to stop the conspiracy, but Bonaparte would still have had to worry about Moreau as a rival. He wouldn’t have become Emperor, and we would still have to fear the return of the Bourbons, which, thank God, is no longer a concern."







      During my stay at Pont-Carry I said but little to Fouché about my long
      audience with the Emperor. However, I thought I might inform him that I
      was authorised to correspond directly with his Majesty. I thought it
      useless to conceal this fact, since he would soon learn it through his
      agents. I also said a few words about Bonaparte's regret at not having
      children. My object was to learn Fouché's opinion on this subject, and it
      was not without a feeling of indignation that I heard him say, "It is to
      be hoped the Empress will soon die. Her death will remove many
      difficulties. Sooner or later he must take a wife who will bear him a
      child; for as long as he has no direct heir there is every chance that his
      death will be the signal for a Revolution. His brothers are perfectly
      incapable of filling his place, and a new party would rise up in favour of
      the Bourbons; which must be prevented above all things. At present they
      are not dangerous, though they still have active and devoted agents.
      Altona is full of them, and you will be surrounded by them. I beg of you
      to keep a watchful eye upon them, and render me a strict account of all
      their movements, and even of their most trivial actions. As they have
      recourse to all sorts of disguises, you cannot be too vigilant; therefore
      it will be advisable, in the first place, to establish a good system of
      espionage; but have a care of the spies who serve both sides, for they
      swarm in Germany."
    
During my time at Pont-Carry, I didn’t say much to Fouché about my long meeting with the Emperor. However, I thought it was worth mentioning that I was allowed to communicate directly with His Majesty. I figured it was pointless to hide this since he would soon find out through his contacts. I also talked a bit about Bonaparte's sadness over not having children. My aim was to gauge Fouché's opinion on this matter, and I felt a wave of indignation as I heard him say, "We can only hope the Empress dies soon. Her passing would solve many problems. Eventually, he has to marry someone who can give him a child; as long as he has no direct heir, there's a good chance his death could spark a Revolution. His brothers are completely unfit to take his place, and a new faction might rise up in support of the Bourbons, which must be avoided at all costs. Right now, they're not a threat, though they still have active and loyal agents. Altona is packed with them, and you’ll be surrounded by them. Please keep a close eye on them and report back to me about all their activities, even the smallest details. Since they use all kinds of disguises, you have to be very alert; therefore, it would be wise to set up a good system for espionage. But be careful of the spies who work for both sides, as they are everywhere in Germany."







      This is all I recollect of my conversations with Fouché at Pont-Carre. I
      returned to Paris to make preparations for my journey to Hamburg.
    
This is all I remember about my conversations with Fouché at Pont-Carre. I went back to Paris to get ready for my trip to Hamburg.








 


 




















      CHAPTER XXXII.
    



      1805.
    
1805.


   Capitulation of Sublingen—Preparations for war—Utility of
   commercial information—My instructions—Inspection of the emigrants
   and the journals—A pamphlet by Kotzebue—Offers from the Emperor of
   Russia to Moreau—Portrait of Gustavus Adolphus by one of his
   ministers—Fouché's denunciations—Duels at Hamburg—M. de Gimel
   —The Hamburg Correspondent—Letter from Bernadotte.

   Surrender of Sublingen—Preparing for war—Importance of commercial info—My instructions—Reviewing the emigrants and the journals—A pamphlet by Kotzebue—Offers from the Emperor of Russia to Moreau—Portrait of Gustavus Adolphus by one of his ministers—Fouché's accusations—Duels in Hamburg—M. de Gimel—The Hamburg Correspondent—Letter from Bernadotte.







      I left Paris on the 20th of May 1805. On the 5th of June following I
      delivered my credentials to the Senate of Hamburg, which was represented
      by the Syndic Doormann and the Senator Schutte. M. Reinhart, my
      predecessor, left Hamburg on the 12th of June.
    
I left Paris on May 20, 1805. On June 5, I delivered my credentials to the Senate of Hamburg, which was represented by the Syndic Doormann and Senator Schutte. M. Reinhart, my predecessor, left Hamburg on June 12.







      The reigning Dukes of Mecklenburg-Schwerin and Brunswick, to whom I had
      announced my arrival as accredited Minister to them, wrote me letters
      recognising me in that character. General Walmoden had just signed the
      capitulation of Sublingen with Marshal Mortier, who had the command in
      Hanover. The English Government refused to ratify this, because it
      stipulated that the troops should be prisoners of war. Bonaparte had two
      motives for relaxing this hard condition. He wished to keep Hanover as a
      compensation for Malta, and to assure the means of embarrassing and
      attacking Prussia, which he now began to distrust. By advancing upon
      Prussia he would secure his left, so that when convenient he might march
      northward. Mortier, therefore, received orders to reduce the conditions of
      the capitulation to the surrender of the arms, baggage, artillery, and
      horses. England, which was making great efforts to resist the invasion
      with which she thought herself threatened, expended considerable sums for
      the transport of the troops from Hanover to England. Her precipitation was
      indescribable, and she paid the most exorbitant charges for the hire of
      ships. Several houses in Hamburg made fortunes on this occasion.
      Experience has long since proved that it is not at their source that
      secret transactions are most readily known. The intelligence of an event
      frequently resounds at a distance, while the event itself is almost
      entirely unknown in the place of its occurrence. The direct influence of
      political events on commercial speculations renders merchants exceedingly
      attentive to what is going on. All who are engaged in commercial pursuits
      form a corporation united by the strongest of all bonds, common interest;
      and commercial correspondence frequently presents a fertile field for
      observation, and affords much valuable information, which often escapes
      the inquiries of Government agents.
    
The current Dukes of Mecklenburg-Schwerin and Brunswick, to whom I had announced my arrival as their accredited Minister, wrote me letters recognizing my role. General Walmoden had just signed the capitulation of Sublingen with Marshal Mortier, who was in charge in Hanover. The English Government refused to approve this because it stated that the troops would be prisoners of war. Bonaparte had two reasons for easing this harsh condition. He wanted to keep Hanover as compensation for Malta and to ensure he could complicate and potentially attack Prussia, which he was starting to distrust. By moving toward Prussia, he would secure his left flank so that he could march north when it suited him. Therefore, Mortier was ordered to reduce the terms of the capitulation to just the surrender of arms, baggage, artillery, and horses. England, which was making significant efforts to resist what it believed to be a looming invasion, spent a lot of money to transport troops from Hanover to England. Their urgency was incredible, and they paid outrageously high fees for ship rentals. Several businesses in Hamburg made fortunes during this time. Experience has shown that it is often not at the origin that secret dealings become widely known. News of an event often travels far while the event itself remains almost entirely unknown where it happened. The direct impact of political events on commercial ventures makes merchants very aware of what is happening. Everyone engaged in trade forms a network bound by the strongest connection of all: common interest; and trade correspondence often provides a rich source of observation and valuable information that frequently escapes the scrutiny of government agents.







      I resolved to form a connection with some of the mercantile houses which
      maintained extensive and frequent communications with the Northern States.
      I knew that by obtaining their confidence I might gain a knowledge of all
      that was going on in Russia, Sweden, England, and Austria. Among the
      subjects upon which it was desirable to obtain information I included
      negotations, treaties, military measures—such as recruiting troops
      beyond the amount settled for the peace establishment, movements of
      troops, the formation of camps and magazines, financial operations, the
      fitting-out of ships, and many other things, which, though not important
      in themselves, frequently lead to the knowledge of what is important.
    
I decided to connect with some of the trading companies that kept in close contact with the Northern States. I knew that by earning their trust, I could learn all about what was happening in Russia, Sweden, England, and Austria. I wanted to gather information on several topics, including negotiations, treaties, military actions—like recruiting more troops than what was agreed upon for peacetime, troop movements, setting up camps and supply depots, financial activities, the preparation of ships, and many other details that, while not significant on their own, often hint at more important matters.







      I was not inclined to place reliance on all public reports and gossiping
      stories circulated on the Exchange without close investigation; for I
      wished to avoid transmitting home as truths what might frequently be mere
      stock-jobbing inventions. I was instructed to keep watch on the emigrants,
      who were exceedingly numerous in Hamburg and its neighbourhood,
      Mecklenburg, Hanover, Brunswick, and Holstein; but I must observe that my
      inspection was to extend only to those who were known to be actually
      engaged in intrigues and plots.
    
I wasn’t inclined to trust all the public reports and gossip stories going around on the Exchange without careful investigation; I wanted to avoid sending home what might often be just fabrications for stock trading. I was directed to keep an eye on the emigrants, who were very numerous in Hamburg and its surrounding areas, including Mecklenburg, Hanover, Brunswick, and Holstein; but I should note that my oversight was meant only for those known to be actually involved in schemes and plots.







      I was also to keep watch on the state of the public mind, and on the
      journals which frequently give it a wrong direction, and to point out
      those articles in the journals which I thought censurable. At first I
      merely made verbal representations and complaints, but I could not always
      confine myself to this course. I received such distinct and positive
      orders that, in spite of myself, inspection was speedily converted into
      oppression. Complaints against the journals filled one-fourth of my
      despatches.
    
I was also supposed to monitor public opinion and the newspapers that often mislead people, and to highlight the articles in those newspapers that I found objectionable. At first, I only made verbal reports and complaints, but I couldn't stick to that approach for long. I received such clear and direct orders that, whether I liked it or not, my oversight quickly turned into oppression. Complaints about the newspapers took up a quarter of my reports.







      As the Emperor wished to be made acquainted with all that was printed
      against him, I sent to Paris, in May 1805, and consequently a very few
      days after my arrival in Hamburg, a pamphlet by the celebrated Kotzebue,
      entitled 'Recollections of my Journey to Naples and Rome'. This
      publication, which was printed at Berlin, was full of indecorous attacks
      and odious allusions on the Emperor.
    
As the Emperor wanted to know everything that was being said about him, I sent to Paris in May 1805, just a few days after I arrived in Hamburg, a pamphlet by the famous Kotzebue, titled 'Recollections of my Journey to Naples and Rome.' This publication, printed in Berlin, was filled with inappropriate attacks and nasty references to the Emperor.







      I was informed at that time, through a certain channel, that the Emperor
      Alexander had solicited General Moreau to enter his service, and take the
      command of the Russian infantry. He offered him 12,000 roubles to defray
      his travelling expenses. At a subsequent period Moreau unfortunately
      accepted these offers, and died in the enemy's ranks.
    
I was told at that time, through a certain source, that Emperor Alexander had asked General Moreau to join his service and lead the Russian infantry. He offered him 12,000 roubles to cover his travel expenses. Later on, Moreau unfortunately accepted the offer and died fighting for the enemy.







      On the 27th of June M. Bouligny arrived at Hamburg. He was appointed to
      supersede M. d'Ocariz at Stockholm. The latter minister had left Hamburg
      on the 11th of June for Constantinople, where he did not expect to stay
      three months. I had several long conversations with him before his
      departure, and he did not appear to be satisfied with his destination. We
      frequently spoke of the King of Sweden, whose conduct M. d'Ocariz blamed.
      He was, he said, a young madman, who, without reflecting on the change of
      time and circumstances, wished to play the part of Gustavus Adolphus, to
      whom he bore no resemblance but in name. M. d'Ocariz spoke of the King of
      Sweden's camp in a tone of derision. That Prince had returned to the King
      of Prussia the cordon of the Black Eagle because the order had been given
      to the First Consul. I understood that Frederick William was very much
      offended at this proceeding, which was as indecorous and absurd as the
      return of the Golden Fleece by Louis XVII. to the King of Spain was
      dignified and proper. Gustavus Adolphus was brave, enterprising, and
      chivalrous, but inconsiderate and irascible. He called Bonaparte Monsieur
      Napoleon. His follies and reverses in Hanover were without doubt the cause
      of his abdication. On the 31st of October 1805 he published a declaration
      of war against France in language highly insulting to the Emperor.
    
On June 27th, M. Bouligny arrived in Hamburg. He was assigned to replace M. d'Ocariz in Stockholm. The latter had left Hamburg on June 11th for Constantinople, where he didn’t expect to stay for more than three months. I had several long conversations with him before he left, and he didn’t seem happy about his assignment. We often talked about the King of Sweden, whose actions M. d'Ocariz criticized. He described him as a young fool, who, without considering the changes in time and circumstances, wanted to pretend to be Gustavus Adolphus, to whom he only shared the name. M. d'Ocariz spoke of the King of Sweden's camp mockingly. That prince had returned the Black Eagle cordon to the King of Prussia because the order had been given to the First Consul. I gathered that Frederick William was quite offended by this move, which was as inappropriate and ridiculous as Louis XVII’s return of the Golden Fleece to the King of Spain was dignified and correct. Gustavus Adolphus was brave, adventurous, and noble, but also thoughtless and quick-tempered. He referred to Bonaparte as Monsieur Napoleon. His foolish actions and defeats in Hanover were undoubtedly the reason for his abdication. On October 31, 1805, he issued a declaration of war against France in language that was extremely insulting to the Emperor.







      Fouché overwhelmed me with letters. If I had attended to all his
      instructions I should have left nobody unmolested. He asked me for
      information respecting a man named Lazoret, of the department of Gard, a
      girl, named Rosine Zimbenni, having informed the police that he had been
      killed in a duel at Hamburg. I replied that I knew but of four Frenchmen
      who had been killed in that way; one, named Clement, was killed by
      Tarasson; a second, named Duparc, killed by Lezardi; a third, named
      Sadremont, killed by Revel; and a fourth, whose name I did not know,
      killed by Lafond. This latter had just arrived at Hamburg when he was
      killed, but he was not the man sought for.
    
Fouché flooded me with letters. If I had followed all his instructions, I wouldn’t have left anyone alone. He wanted information about a man named Lazoret from the Gard department, as a girl named Rosine Zimbenni had informed the police that he was killed in a duel in Hamburg. I replied that I only knew of four Frenchmen who had died that way: one named Clement, killed by Tarasson; a second named Duparc, killed by Lezardi; a third named Sadremont, killed by Revel; and a fourth whose name I didn’t know, killed by Lafond. This last one had just arrived in Hamburg when he was killed, but he wasn’t the man they were looking for.







      Lafond was a native of Brabant, and had served in the British army. He
      insulted the Frenchman because he wore the national cockade—A duel
      was the consequence, and the offended party fell. M. Reinhart, my
      predecessor wished to punish Lafond, but the Austrian Minister having
      claimed him as the subject of his sovereign, he was not molested. Lafond
      took refuge in Antwerp, where he became a player.
    
Lafond was from Brabant and had served in the British army. He insulted the Frenchman for wearing the national cockade, which led to a duel, and the offended party fell. M. Reinhart, my predecessor, wanted to punish Lafond, but the Austrian Minister claimed him as a subject of his sovereign, so he was not bothered. Lafond found shelter in Antwerp, where he became an actor.







      During the first months which succeeded my arrival in Hamburg I received
      orders for the arrest of many persons, almost all of whom were designated
      as dangerous and ill disposed men. When I was convinced that the
      accusation was groundless I postponed the arrest. The matter was then
      forgotten, and nobody complained.
    
During the first few months after I arrived in Hamburg, I got orders to arrest several people, almost all of whom were labeled as dangerous and hostile. When I was sure that the accusations were baseless, I delayed the arrests. The issue was then forgotten, and no one complained.







      A title, or a rank in foreign service, was a safeguard against the Paris
      inquisition. Of this the following is an instance. Count Gimel, of whom I
      shall hereafter have occasion to speak more at length, set out about this
      time for Carlsbad. Count Grote the Prussian Minister, frequently spoke to
      me of him. On my expressing apprehension that M. de Gimel might be
      arrested, as there was a strong prejudice against him, M. Grote replied,
      "Oh! there is no fear of that. He will return to Hamburg with the rauk of
      an English colonel."
    
A title or rank in foreign service was a shield against the Paris inquisition. Here’s an example of this. Count Gimel, whom I will discuss in more detail later, headed to Carlsbad around this time. Count Grote, the Prussian Minister, often talked to me about him. When I expressed concern that M. de Gimel might be arrested due to the strong bias against him, M. Grote replied, "Oh! There’s no worry about that. He'll return to Hamburg with the rank of an English colonel."







      On the 17th of July there appeared in the Correspondent an article
      exceedingly insulting to France. It had been inserted by order of Baron
      Novozilzow, who was at Berlin, and who had become very hostile to France,
      though it was said he had been sent from St. Petersburg on a specific
      mission to Napoleon. The article in question was transmitted from Berlin
      by an extraordinary courier, and Novozilzow in his note to the Senate said
      it might be stated that the article was inserted at the request of His
      Britannic Majesty. The Russian Minister at Berlin, M. Alopaeus, despatched
      also an 'estafette' to the Russian charge d'affaires at Hamburg, with
      orders to apply for the insertion of the article, which accordingly
      appeared. In obedience to the Emperor's instructions, I complained of it,
      and the Senate replied that it never opposed the insertion of an official
      note sent by any Government; that insults would redound against those from
      whom they came; that the reply of the French Government would be
      published; and that the Senate had never deviated from this mode of
      proceeding.
    
On July 17th, an article that was extremely insulting to France appeared in the Correspondent. It was published on the orders of Baron Novozilzow, who was in Berlin and had become very hostile towards France, although he was supposedly sent from St. Petersburg on a specific mission to Napoleon. The article was sent from Berlin by a special courier, and Novozilzow noted to the Senate that it could be said the article was published at the request of His Britannic Majesty. The Russian Minister in Berlin, M. Alopaeus, also sent a messenger to the Russian charge d'affaires in Hamburg, instructing him to request the publication of the article, which was subsequently included. Following the Emperor's instructions, I lodged a complaint regarding it, and the Senate replied that it never opposes the publication of an official note from any government; that insults would ultimately reflect poorly on those who express them; that the French Government's response would be published; and that the Senate had always followed this approach.







      I observed to the Senate that I did not understand why the Correspondent
      should make itself the trumpet of M. Novozilzow; to which the Syndic
      replied, that two great powers, which might do them much harm, had
      required the insertion of the article, and that it could not be refused.
    
I pointed out to the Senate that I didn't understand why the Correspondent was acting as a mouthpiece for M. Novozilzow. The Syndic responded that two major powers, which could cause them significant trouble, had insisted on including the article, and that it couldn't be turned down.







      The hatred felt by the foreign Princes, which the death of the Duc
      d'Enghien had considerably increased; gave encouragement to the
      publication of everything hostile to Napoleon. This was candidly avowed to
      me by the Ministers and foreigners of rank whom I saw in Hamburg. The King
      of Sweden was most violent in manifesting the indignation which was
      generally excited by the death of the Duc d'Enghien. M. Wetterstadt, who
      had succeeded M. La Gerbielske in the Cabinet of Stockholm, sent to the
      Swedish Minister at Hamburg a long letter exceedingly insulting to
      Napoleon. It was in reply to an article inserted in the 'Moniteur'
      respecting the return of the Black Eagle to the King of Prussia. M.
      Peyron, the Swedish Minister at Hamburg, who was very far from approving
      all that his master did, transmitted to Stockholm some very energetic
      remarks on the ill effect which would be produced by the insertion of the
      article in the 'Correspondent'. The article was then a little modified,
      and M. Peyron received formal orders to get it inserted. However; on my
      representations the Senate agreed to suppress it, and it did not appear.
    
The resentment felt by the foreign princes, which the death of the Duc d'Enghien had significantly intensified, led to more hostile publications against Napoleon. This was openly acknowledged to me by the ministers and high-ranking foreigners I met in Hamburg. The King of Sweden was particularly outspoken in expressing the outrage that the Duc d'Enghien's death stirred up. M. Wetterstadt, who had taken over from M. La Gerbielske in the Swedish Cabinet, sent a long, highly insulting letter to the Swedish Minister in Hamburg, directed at Napoleon. This was in response to an article published in the 'Moniteur' about the return of the Black Eagle to the King of Prussia. M. Peyron, the Swedish Minister in Hamburg, who was not fully in support of everything his king did, sent some strong comments back to Stockholm about the negative impact of publishing the article in the 'Correspondent'. The article was then slightly altered, and M. Peyron received formal orders to have it published. However, after I made my case, the Senate agreed to suppress it, and it did not get published.







      Marshal Bernadotte, who had the command of the French troops in Hanover,
      kept up a friendly correspondence with me unconnected with the duties of
      our respective functions.
    
Marshal Bernadotte, who commanded the French troops in Hanover, maintained a friendly correspondence with me that was unrelated to our official duties.







      On the occupation of Hanover Mr. Taylor, the English Minister at Cassel,
      was obliged to leave that place; but he soon returned in spite of the
      opposition of France. On this subject the marshal furnished me with the
      following particulars:
    
On the occupation of Hanover, Mr. Taylor, the English Minister in Cassel, had to leave that place; however, he quickly returned despite France's objections. Regarding this matter, the marshal provided me with the following details:






   I have just received, my dear Bourrienne, information which leaves
   no doubt of what has taken place at Cassel with respect to Mr.
   Taylor. That Minister has been received in spite of the
   representations of M. Bignon, which, however, had previously been
   merely verbal. I know that the Elector wrote to London to request
   that Mr. Taylor should not return. In answer to this the English
   Government sent him back. Our Minister has done everything he could
   to obtain his dismissal; but the pecuniary interests of the Elector
   have triumphed over every other consideration. He would not risk
   quarrelling with the Court from which he expects to receive more
   than 12,000,000 francs. The British Government has been written to
   a second time, but without effect. The Elector himself, in a
   private letter, has requested the King of England to recall Mr.
   Taylor, but it is very probable that the Cabinet of London will
   evade this request.

   Under these circumstances our troops have approached nearer to
   Cassel. Hitherto the whole district of Gottingen had been exempt
   from quartering troops. New arrangements, tendered necessary by the
   scarcity of forage, have obliged me to send a squadron of 'chasseurs
   de cheval' to Munden, a little town four leagues from Cassel. This
   movement excited some alarm in the Elector, who expressed a wish to
   see things restored to the same footing as before. He has requested
   M. Bignon to write to me, and to assure me again that he will be
   delighted to become acquainted with me at the waters of Nemidorff,
   where he intends to spend some time. But on this subject I shall
   not alter the determination I have already mentioned to you.
   —Yours, etc.,
                       (Signed) BERNADOTTE.
   STADE, 10th Thermidor (29th July, 1805).

   I just got word, my dear Bourrienne, that makes it clear what’s been happening in Cassel regarding Mr. Taylor. That Minister has been allowed to stay despite M. Bignon's previous verbal objections. I know the Elector wrote to London asking for Mr. Taylor not to return. In response, the British Government sent him back. Our Minister has done everything possible to have him dismissed, but the Elector's financial interests won out over everything else. He isn’t willing to risk a fallout with the Court from which he expects to receive over 12,000,000 francs. The British Government has been contacted again about this, but with no results. The Elector himself, in a private letter, has asked the King of England to recall Mr. Taylor, but it’s very likely that the London Cabinet will ignore this request.

   Given these circumstances, our troops have moved closer to Cassel. Until now, the entire Gottingen area had been free of stationed troops. New arrangements, necessitated by a shortage of forage, have forced me to send a squadron of 'chasseurs de cheval' to Munden, a small town four leagues from Cassel. This move caused some alarm for the Elector, who expressed a desire to restore things to how they were before. He has asked M. Bignon to write to me again and assure me that he would be happy to meet me at the waters of Nemidorff, where he plans to spend some time. However, regarding this matter, I won’t change the decision I’ve already mentioned to you.
   —Yours, etc.,
                       (Signed) BERNADOTTE.
   STADE, 10th Thermidor (29th July, 1805).








 


 




















      CHAPTER XXXIII.
    



      1805.
    
1805.


   Treaty of alliance between England and Russia—Certainty of an
   approaching war—M. Forshmann, the Russian Minister—Duroc's mission
   to Berlin—New project of the King of Sweden—Secret mission to the
   Baltic—Animosity against France—Fall of the exchange between
   Hamburg and Paris—Destruction of the first Austrian army—Taking of
   Ulm—The Emperor's displeasure at the remark of a soldier—Battle of
   Trafalgar—Duroc's position at the Court of Prussia—Armaments in
   Russia—Libel upon Napoleon in the Hamburg 'Corespondent'—
   Embarrassment of the Syndic and Burgomaster of Hamburg—The conduct
   of the Russian Minister censured by the Swedish and English
   Ministers.

   Treaty of alliance between England and Russia—Certainty of an
   approaching war—M. Forshmann, the Russian Minister—Duroc's mission
   to Berlin—New project of the King of Sweden—Secret mission to the
   Baltic—Animosity against France—Fall of the exchange between
   Hamburg and Paris—Destruction of the first Austrian army—Taking of
   Ulm—The Emperor's displeasure at the remark of a soldier—Battle of
   Trafalgar—Duroc's position at the Court of Prussia—Armaments in
   Russia—Libel upon Napoleon in the Hamburg 'Corespondent'—
   Embarrassment of the Syndic and Burgomaster of Hamburg—The conduct
   of the Russian Minister criticized by the Swedish and English
   Ministers.







      At the beginning of August 1805 a treaty of alliance between Russia and
      England was spoken of. Some persons of consequence, who had the means of
      knowing all that was going on in the political world, had read this
      treaty, the principal points of which were communicated to me.
    
At the start of August 1805, there was talk of an alliance treaty between Russia and England. Some influential individuals, who were well-informed about the political situation, had seen this treaty, and they shared the main points with me.







      Article 1st stated that the object of the alliance was to restore the
      balance of Europe. By art. 2d the Emperor of Russia was to place 36,000
      men at the disposal of England. Art. 3d stipulated that neither of the two
      powers would consent to treat with France, nor to lay down arms until the
      King of Sardinia should either be restored to his dominions or receive an
      equivalent indemnity in the northeast of Italy. By art. 4th Malta was to
      be evacuated by the English, and occupied by the Russians. By art. 5th the
      two powers were to guarantee the independence of the Republic of the
      Ionian Isles, and England was to pledge herself to assist Russia in her
      war against Persia. If this plan of a treaty, of the existence of which I
      was informed on unquestionable authority, had been brought to any result
      it is impossible to calculate what might have been its consequences.
    
Article 1 stated that the goal of the alliance was to restore the balance of Europe. According to Article 2, the Emperor of Russia was to make 36,000 troops available to England. Article 3 stipulated that neither power would agree to negotiate with France or lay down arms until the King of Sardinia was either restored to his territory or received adequate compensation in northeastern Italy. Article 4 specified that Malta was to be evacuated by the English and taken over by the Russians. Article 5 outlined that the two powers would guarantee the independence of the Republic of the Ionian Isles, and England would commit to helping Russia in its war against Persia. If this proposed treaty, of which I was informed by reliable sources, had been finalized, it’s impossible to predict what its consequences might have been.







      At that time an immediate Continental war was confidently expected by
      every person in the north of Europe; and it is very certain that, had not
      Napoleon taken the hint in time and renounced his absurd schemes at
      Boulogne, France would have stood in a dangerous situation.
    
At that time, everyone in Northern Europe was sure that an immediate war would break out on the continent. It's quite clear that if Napoleon hadn't caught on in time and given up his ridiculous plans at Boulogne, France would have found itself in a very risky position.







      M. Forshmann, the Russian charge d'affaires, was intriguing to excite the
      north of Europe against France. He repeatedly received orders to obtain
      the insertion of irritating articles in the 'Correspondent'. He was an
      active, intriguing, and spiteful little man, and a declared enemy of
      France; but fortunately his stupidity and vanity rendered him less
      dangerous than he wished to be. He was universally detested, and he would
      have lost all credit but that the extensive trade carried on between
      Russia and Hamburg forced the inhabitants and magistrates of that city to
      bear with a man who might have done them, individually, considerable
      injury.
    
M. Forshmann, the Russian charge d'affaires, was trying to stir up trouble in Northern Europe against France. He kept getting orders to push for annoying articles in the 'Correspondent'. He was an active, scheming, and petty little man, openly hostile toward France; but thankfully, his foolishness and arrogance made him less threatening than he wanted to be. He was widely hated, and he would have lost all credibility if it weren't for the significant trade between Russia and Hamburg that forced the locals and officials of that city to tolerate a man who could have caused them serious harm.







      The recollection of Duroc's successful mission to Berlin during the
      Consulate induced Napoleon to believe that that general might appease the
      King of Prussia, who complained seriously of the violation of the
      territory of Anspach, which Bernadotte, in consequence of the orders he
      received, had not been able to respect. Duroc remained about six weeks in
      Berlin.
    
The memory of Duroc's successful mission to Berlin during the Consulate led Napoleon to think that the general could calm the King of Prussia, who was seriously upset about the violation of Anspach's territory, which Bernadotte, following his orders, had been unable to honor. Duroc stayed in Berlin for about six weeks.







      The following letter from Duroc will show that the facility of passing
      through Hesse seemed to excuse the second violation of the Prussian
      territory; but there was a great difference between a petty Prince of
      Hesse and the King of Prussia.
    
The following letter from Duroc will show that the ease of passing through Hesse seemed to justify the second violation of Prussian territory; however, there was a significant difference between a minor prince of Hesse and the King of Prussia.






   I send you, my dear Bourrienne, two despatches, which I have
   received for you. M. de Talleyrand, who sends them, desires me to
   request that you will transmit General Victor's by a sure
   conveyance.

   I do not yet know whether I shall stay long in Berlin. By the last
   accounts I received the Emperor is still in Paris, and numerous
   forces are assembling on the Rhine. The hopes of peace are
   vanishing every day, and Austria does everything to promote war.

   I have received accounts from Marshal Bernadotte. He has effected
   his passage through Hesse. Marshal Bernadotte was much pleased with
   the courtesy he experienced from the Elector.

I’m sending you, my dear Bourrienne, two messages I received for you. M. de Talleyrand, who sent them, asked me to make sure you forward General Victor's message by a reliable courier.

I still don’t know if I’ll be staying in Berlin for long. According to the latest updates I got, the Emperor is still in Paris, and a lot of troops are gathering along the Rhine. The hopes for peace are fading every day, and Austria is doing everything it can to push for war.

I’ve received updates from Marshal Bernadotte. He successfully made it through Hesse. Marshal Bernadotte was very pleased with the kindness he received from the Elector.







      The junction of the corps commanded by Bernadotte with the army of the
      Emperor was very important, and Napoleon therefore directed the Marshal to
      come up with him as speedily as possible, and by the shortest road. It was
      necessary he should arrive in time for the battle of Austerlitz. Gustavus,
      King of Sweden, who was always engaged in some enterprise, wished to raise
      an army composed of Swedes, Prussians, and English; and certainly a
      vigorous attack in the north would have prevented Bernadotte from quitting
      the banks of the Elbe and the Weser, and reinforcing the Grand Army which
      was marching on Vienna. But the King of Sweden's coalition produced no
      other result than the siege of the little fortress of Hameln.
    
The joining of Bernadotte's corps with the Emperor's army was crucial, so Napoleon told the Marshal to get to him as quickly as possible and by the shortest route. It was essential for him to arrive in time for the Battle of Austerlitz. Gustavus, King of Sweden, who was always up to something, wanted to assemble an army made up of Swedes, Prussians, and English forces; a strong offensive in the north would have definitely kept Bernadotte from leaving the banks of the Elbe and the Weser to reinforce the Grand Army heading to Vienna. However, the coalition led by the King of Sweden resulted in nothing more than the siege of the small fortress of Hameln.







      Prussia would not come to a rupture with France, the King of Sweden was
      abandoned, and Bonaparte's resentment against him increased. This abortive
      project of Gustavus contributed not a little to alienate the affections of
      his subjects, who feared that they might be the victims of the revenge
      excited by the extravagant plans of their King, and the insults he had
      heaped upon Napoleon, particularly since the death of the Duc d'Enghien.
    
Prussia wouldn't break with France, the King of Sweden was left on his own, and Bonaparte's anger toward him grew. This failed scheme by Gustavus further distanced him from his subjects, who worried they could be caught in the crossfire of the retaliation stirred up by their King's outrageous ambitions and the insults he had thrown at Napoleon, especially after the death of the Duc d'Enghien.







      On the 13th of September 1805 I received a letter from the Minister of
      Police soliciting information about Swedish Pomerania.
    
On September 13, 1805, I got a letter from the Minister of Police asking for information about Swedish Pomerania.







      Astonished at not obtaining from the commercial Consuls at Lübeck and
      Stettin any accounts of the movements of the Russians, I had sent to those
      ports, four days before the receipt of the Police Minister's letter, a
      confidential agent, to observe the Baltic: though we were only 64 leagues
      from Stralsund the most uncertain and contradictory accounts came to hand.
      It was, however, certain that a landing of the Russians was expected at
      Stralsund, or at Travemtinde, the port of Lübeck, at the mouth of the
      little river Trave. I was positively informed that Russia had freighted a
      considerable number of vessels for those ports.
    
Astonished that the commercial Consuls in Lübeck and Stettin hadn’t provided any information about the movements of the Russians, I had sent a confidential agent to those ports four days before I received the Police Minister's letter, to monitor the Baltic. Even though we were only 64 leagues from Stralsund, the reports we received were uncertain and contradictory. However, it was clear that a Russian landing was anticipated at Stralsund or at Travemünde, the port of Lübeck, at the mouth of the small river Trave. I was reliably informed that Russia had chartered a significant number of vessels for those ports.







      The hatred of the French continued to increase in the north of Europe.
      About the end of September there appeared at Kiel, in Denmark, a libellous
      pamphlet, which was bought and read with inconceivable avidity. This
      pamphlet, which was very ably written, was the production of some fanatic
      who openly preached a crusade against France. The author regarded the
      blood of millions of men as a trifling sacrifice for the great object of
      humiliating France and bringing her back to the limits of the old
      monarchy. This pamphlet was circulated extensively in the German
      departments united to France, in Holland, and in Switzerland. The number
      of incendiary publications which everywhere abounded indicated but too
      plainly that if the nations of the north should be driven back towards the
      Arctic regions they would in their turn repulse their conquerors towards
      the south; and no man of common sense could doubt that if the French
      eagles were planted in foreign capitals, foreign standards would one day
      wave over Paris.
    
The hatred of the French kept growing in northern Europe. By the end of September, a scandalous pamphlet surfaced in Kiel, Denmark, which people bought and read with unbelievable enthusiasm. This pamphlet, well-written, was created by some fanatic who openly called for a crusade against France. The author saw the deaths of millions as a minor sacrifice for the bigger goal of humiliating France and pushing her back to the boundaries of the old monarchy. This pamphlet was widely distributed in the German territories that were linked to France, in Holland, and in Switzerland. The sheer number of inflammatory publications that were everywhere made it clear that if the northern nations were pushed back towards the Arctic regions, they would in turn push their conquerors southward; and no reasonable person could doubt that if the French eagles were planted in foreign capitals, foreign flags would eventually fly over Paris.







      On the 30th of September 1805 I received, by an 'estafette', intelligence
      of the landing at Stralsund of 6000 Swedes, who had arrived from Stockholm
      in two ships of war.
    
On September 30, 1805, I got a message via a courier about 6,000 Swedes landing in Stralsund. They had come from Stockholm on two warships.







      About the end of September the Hamburg exchange on Paris fell alarmingly.
      The loss was twenty per cent. The fall stopped at seventeen below par. The
      speculation for this fall of the exchange had been made with equal
      imprudence and animosity by the house of Osy and Company.
    
Toward the end of September, the Hamburg exchange rate for Paris dropped significantly. The loss was twenty percent. The decline ended at seventeen below par. The speculation behind this drop in the exchange rate was made with equal recklessness and hostility by the firm of Osy and Company.







      The head of that house, a Dutch emigrant, who had been settled at Hamburg
      about six years, seized every opportunity of manifesting his hatred of
      France. An agent of that rich house at Rotterdam was also very hostile to
      us, a circumstance which shows that if many persons sacrifice their
      political opinions to their interests there are others who endanger their
      interests for the triumph of their opinions.
    
The head of that household, a Dutch immigrant who had been living in Hamburg for about six years, took every chance to show his hatred for France. An agent from that wealthy firm in Rotterdam was also quite hostile towards us, which demonstrates that while many people compromise their political beliefs for their interests, there are others who risk their interests for the victory of their beliefs.







      On the 23d of October 1805 I received official intelligence of the total
      destruction of the first Austrian army: General Barbou, who was in
      Hanover, also informed me of that event in the following terms: "The first
      Austrian army has ceased to exist." He alluded to the brilliant affair of
      Ulm. I immediately despatched twelve estafettes to different parts; among
      other places to Stralsund and Husum. I thought that these prodigies, which
      must have been almost incredible to those who were unacquainted with
      Napoleon's military genius, might arrest the progress of the Russian
      troops, and produces some change in the movements of the enemy's forces. A
      second edition of the 'Correspondent' was published with this
      intelligence, and 6000 copies were sold at four times the usual price.
    
On October 23, 1805, I received official news of the complete destruction of the first Austrian army. General Barbou, who was in Hanover, also informed me of this event, saying, "The first Austrian army has ceased to exist." He was referring to the remarkable event at Ulm. I immediately sent out twelve couriers to different locations, including Stralsund and Husum. I believed that these astonishing developments, which would have been nearly unbelievable to those unfamiliar with Napoleon's military genius, might slow down the advance of the Russian troops and change the enemy's movements. A second edition of the 'Correspondent' was published with this news, and 6,000 copies were sold at four times the usual price.







      I need not detain the reader with the details of the capitulation of Ulm,
      which have already been published, but I may relate the following
      anecdote, which is not generally known. A French general passing before
      the ranks of his men said to them, "Well, comrades, we have prisoners
      enough here."—"yes indeed," replied one of the soldiers, "we never
      saw so many . . . collected together before." It was stated at the time,
      and I believe it, that the Emperor was much displeased when he heard of
      this, and remarked that it was "atrocious to insult brave men to whom the
      fate of arms had proved unfavourable."
    
I won’t keep you with the details of the surrender at Ulm, which have already been reported, but I can share a lesser-known story. A French general walked in front of his troops and said to them, “Well, comrades, we have plenty of prisoners here.” One soldier replied, “Yes, indeed, we’ve never seen so many gathered together before.” At the time, it was said—and I believe it—that the Emperor was very unhappy when he heard this and stated that it was “atrocious to insult brave men who had faced an unfortunate outcome in battle.”







      In reading the history of this period we find that in whatever place
      Napoleon happened to be, there was the central point of action. The
      affairs of Europe were arranged at his headquarters in the same manner as
      if he had been in Paris. Everything depended on his good or bad fortune.
      Espionage, seduction, false promises, exactions,—all were put in
      force to promote the success of his projects; but his despotism, which
      excited dissatisfaction in France, and his continual aggressions, which
      threatened the independence of foreign States, rendered him more and more
      unpopular everywhere.
    
While reading the history of this period, we see that wherever Napoleon was, that was the hub of activity. The affairs of Europe were managed from his headquarters just as if he were in Paris. Everything relied on his luck, whether good or bad. Espionage, manipulation, broken promises, and coercion were all used to advance his plans; however, his tyranny, which caused frustration in France, and his ongoing attacks, which jeopardized the independence of other nations, made him increasingly unpopular everywhere.







      The battle of Trafalgar took place while Napoleon was marching on Vienna,
      and on the day after the capitulation of Ulm. The southern coast of Spain
      then witnessed an engagement between thirty-one French and about an equal
      number of English ships, and in spite of this equality of force the French
      fleet was destroyed.—[The actual forces present were 27 English
      ships of the line and 38 Franco-Spanish ships of the line; see James'
      Naval History, vol. iii. p. 459.]
    
The Battle of Trafalgar happened while Napoleon was heading toward Vienna and the day after the surrender of Ulm. The southern coast of Spain saw a confrontation between thirty-one French ships and about the same number of English ships, and despite this balance of forces, the French fleet was wiped out. —[The actual forces present were 27 English ships of the line and 38 Franco-Spanish ships of the line; see James' Naval History, vol. iii. p. 459.]







      This great battle afforded another proof of our naval inferiority. Admires
      Calder first gave us the lesson which Nelson completed, but which cost the
      latter his life. According to the reports which Duroc transmitted to me,
      courage gave momentary hope to the French; but they were at length forced
      to yield to the superior naval tactics of the enemy. The battle of
      Trafalgar paralysed our naval force, and banished all hope of any attempt
      against England.
    
This major battle provided further evidence of our naval weakness. Admiral Calder first taught us a lesson that Nelson finished, but it ultimately cost Nelson his life. Based on the reports Duroc sent me, the French had a brief moment of hope due to their courage, but they were eventually compelled to surrender to the enemy's superior naval tactics. The battle of Trafalgar crippled our naval power and eliminated any hope of launching an attack against England.







      The favour which the King, of Prussia had shown to Duroc was withdrawn
      when his Majesty received intelligence of the march of Bernadotte's troops
      through the Margravate of Anspach. All accounts concurred respecting the
      just umbrage which that violation of territory occasioned to the King of
      Prussia. The agents whom I had in that quarter overwhelmed me with reports
      of the excesses committed by the French in passing through the Margravate.
      A letter I received from Duroc contains the following remarks on this
      subject:
    
The favor that the King of Prussia had shown to Duroc was taken back when His Majesty learned about Bernadotte's troops moving through the Margravate of Anspach. Everyone agreed on the rightful anger that this violation of territory caused the King of Prussia. The agents I had in that area bombarded me with reports about the abuses committed by the French while passing through the Margravate. A letter I received from Duroc includes the following comments on this issue:






   The corps of Marshal Bernadotte has passed through Anapach and by
   some misunderstanding this has been regarded at Berlin as an insult
   to the King, a violence committed upon his neutrality. How can it
   be supposed, especially under present circumstances, that the
   Emperor could have any intention of insulting or committing violence
   upon his friend? Besides, the reports have been exaggerated, and
   have been made by persons who wish to favour our enemies rather than
   us. However, I am perfectly aware that Marshal Bernadotte's 70,000
   men are not 70,000 virgins. Be this as it may, the business might
   have been fatal, and will, at all events, be very injurious to us.
   Laforeat and I are treated very harshly, though we do not deserve
   it. All the idle stories that have been got up here must have
   reached you. Probably Prussia will not forget that France was, and
   still may be, the only power interested in her glory and
   aggrandisement.

   The corps of Marshal Bernadotte has passed through Anapach, and due to some misunderstanding, this has been seen in Berlin as an insult to the King, an infringement on his neutrality. How can it be assumed, especially under the current circumstances, that the Emperor would have any intention of insulting or harming his ally? Moreover, the reports have been blown out of proportion and come from people who prefer to support our enemies over us. Still, I fully recognize that Marshal Bernadotte's 70,000 troops are not 70,000 saints. That said, this situation could have been disastrous and will definitely be very damaging for us. Laforeat and I are being treated very unfairly, even though we don’t deserve it. All the rumors that have been spread here must have reached you. It’s likely that Prussia won’t forget that France was, and may still be, the only power invested in her glory and expansion.







      At the end of October the King of Prussia, far from thinking of war, but
      in case of its occurrence wishing to check its disasters as far as
      possible, proposed to establish a line of neutrality. This was the first
      idea of the Confederation of the North. Duroc, fearing lest the Russians
      should enter Hamburg, advised me, as a friend, to adopt precautions. But I
      was on the spot; I knew all the movement the little detached corps, and I
      was under no apprehension.
    
At the end of October, the King of Prussia, not thinking about war but wanting to minimize its potential disasters, suggested setting up a neutral zone. This was the initial concept for the Confederation of the North. Duroc, worried that the Russians might enter Hamburg, advised me as a friend to take precautions. However, I was there; I was aware of all the movements of the small detached corps, and I had no concerns.







      The editor of the Hamburg 'Correspondent' sent me every evening a proof of
      the number which was to appear next day,—a favour which was granted
      only to the French Minister. On the 20th of November I received the proof
      as usual, and saw nothing objectionable in it. How great, therefore, was
      my astonishment when next morning I read in the same journal an article
      personally insulting to the Emperor, and in which the legitimate
      sovereigns of Europe were called upon to undertake a crusade against the
      usurper etc. I immediately sent for M. Doormann, first Syndic of the
      Senate of Hamburg. When he appeared his mortified look sufficiently
      informed me that he knew what I had to say to him. I reproached him
      sharply, and asked him how, after all I had told him of the Emperor's
      susceptibility, he could permit the insertion of such an article. I
      observed to him that this indecorous diatribe had no official character,
      since it had no signature; and that, therefore, he had acted in direct
      opposition to a decree of the Senate, which prohibited the insertion in
      the journals of any articles which were not signed. I told him plainly
      that his imprudence might be attended with serious consequences. M.
      Doormann did not attempt to justify himaelt but merely explained to me how
      the thing had happened.
    
The editor of the Hamburg 'Correspondent' sent me a proof of the issue that was going to be published the next day every evening—a privilege granted only to the French Minister. On November 20th, I received the proof as usual and didn’t see anything objectionable in it. So, I was extremely shocked when I read an article the next morning that personally insulted the Emperor, calling on Europe’s legitimate rulers to launch a crusade against the usurper, among other things. I immediately called for M. Doormann, the first Syndic of the Senate of Hamburg. When he came in, his embarrassed expression told me that he was already aware of what I was going to discuss. I reprimanded him sharply and asked how, after everything I had told him about the Emperor's sensitivity, he could allow such an article to be published. I pointed out that this inappropriate attack had no official status since it was unsigned, and therefore, he had directly violated a Senate decree that prohibited the publication of uncredited articles. I told him outright that his recklessness could have serious consequences. M. Doormann didn’t try to defend himself but simply explained how it had happened.







      On the 20th of November, in the evening, M. Forshmann, the Russian charge
      d'affaires who had in the course of the day arrived from the Russian
      headquarters presented to the editor of the Correspondent the article in
      question. The editor, after reading the article, which he thought
      exceedingly indecorous, observed to M. Forshmann that his paper was
      already made up, which was the fact, for I had seen a proof. M. Forshmann,
      however, insisted on the insertion of the article. The editor then told
      him that he could not admit it without the approbation of the Syndic
      Censor. M. Forshmann immediately waited upon M. Doormann, and when the
      latter begged that he would not insist on the insertion of the article, M.
      Forshmann produced a letter written in French, which, among other things,
      contained the following: "You will get the enclosed article inserted in
      the Correspondent without suffering a single word to be altered. Should
      the censor refuse, you must apply to the directing Burgomaster, and, in
      case of his refusal, to General Tolstoy, who will devise some means of
      rendering the Senate more complying, and forcing it to observe an
      impartial deference."
    
On the evening of November 20th, M. Forshmann, the Russian chargé d'affaires who had arrived earlier that day from the Russian headquarters, presented the article in question to the editor of the Correspondent. After reading the article, which he found extremely inappropriate, the editor told M. Forshmann that his paper was already set for print, which was true; I had seen a proof. However, M. Forshmann insisted that the article be included. The editor then informed him that he couldn't publish it without the approval of the Syndic Censor. M. Forshmann promptly visited M. Doormann, and when the latter requested that he not press for the article's inclusion, M. Forshmann produced a letter written in French which contained, among other things, the following: "You will ensure that the enclosed article is published in the Correspondent without altering a single word. If the censor refuses, you must appeal to the directing Burgomaster, and if he also refuses, to General Tolstoy, who will find a way to persuade the Senate to comply and to show it an impartial consideration."







      M. Doorman, thinking he could not take upon himself to allow the insertion
      of the article, went, accompanied by M. Forshmann, to wait upon M. Von
      Graffen, the directing Burgomaster. MM. Doorman and Von Graffen earnestly
      pointed out the impropriety of inserting the article; but M. Forshmann
      referred to his order, and added that the compliance of the Senate on this
      point was the only means of avoiding great mischief. The Burgomaster and
      the Syndic, finding themselves thus forced to admit the article, entreated
      that the following passage at least might be suppressed: "I know a certain
      chief, who, in defiance of all laws divine and human,—in contempt of
      the hatred he inspires in Europe, as well as among those whom he has
      reduced to be his subjects, keeps possession of a usurped throne by
      violence and crime. His insatiable ambition would subject all Europe to
      his rule. But the time is come for avenging the rights of nations . . . ."
      M. Forshmann again referred to his orders, and with some degree of
      violence insisted on the insertion of the article in its complete form.
      The Burgomaster then authorised the editor of the Correspondent to print
      the article that night, and M. Forshmann, having obtained that authority,
      carried the article to the office at half-past eleven o'clock.
    
M. Doorman, believing he couldn't allow the article to be published, went with M. Forshmann to speak with M. Von Graffen, the main Burgomaster. Both Doorman and Von Graffen strongly pointed out the inappropriateness of publishing the article, but M. Forshmann referred to his orders and added that the Senate's compliance on this issue was the only way to prevent serious trouble. The Burgomaster and the Syndic, feeling pressured to accept the article, pleaded that at least the following part be removed: "I know a certain leader who, defying all divine and human laws—in spite of the hatred he evokes in Europe as well as among those he has made his subjects—holds onto a stolen throne through violence and crime. His endless ambition aims to dominate all of Europe. But the time has come to avenge the rights of nations . . . ." M. Forshmann again referred to his orders and with some force insisted on including the article in its entirety. The Burgomaster then authorized the editor of the Correspondent to publish the article that night, and M. Forshmann, having secured that permission, took the article to the office at half-past eleven.







      Such was the account given me by M. Doormann. I observed that I did not
      understand how the imaginary apprehension of any violence on the part of
      Russia should have induced him to admit so insolent an attack upon the
      most powerful sovereign in Europe, whose arms would soon dictate laws to
      Germany. The Syndic did not dissemble his fear of the Emperor's
      resentment, while at the same time he expressed a hope that the Emperor
      would take into consideration the extreme difficulty of a small power
      maintaining neutrality in the extraordinary circumstances in which Hamburg
      was placed, and that the articles might be said to have been presented
      almost at the point of the Cossacks' spears. M. Doormann added that a
      refusal, which world have brought Russian troops to Hamburg, might have
      been attended by very unpleasant consequences to me, and might have
      committed the Senate in a very different way. I begged of him, once for
      all, to set aside in these affairs all consideration of my personal
      danger: and the Syndic, after a conversation of more than two hours,
      departed more uneasy in his mind than when he arrived, and conjuring me to
      give a faithful report of the facts as they had happened.
    
This is what M. Doormann told me. I noticed that I couldn’t understand how the fear of potential violence from Russia led him to accept such an aggressive attack on the strongest ruler in Europe, whose military would soon impose laws on Germany. The Syndic didn’t hide his worry about the Emperor’s anger, but he also hoped the Emperor would consider how difficult it is for a small power to remain neutral in the unusual situation Hamburg found itself in, and that the demands could be seen as being made almost at the point of Cossack swords. M. Doormann added that a refusal, which would have brought Russian troops to Hamburg, could have had very nasty consequences for me and could have put the Senate in a much tougher position. I urged him to ignore any thoughts of my personal safety in these matters. After talking for more than two hours, the Syndic left even more troubled than when he came, asking me to provide an honest account of the events as they unfolded.







      M. Doormann was a very worthy man, and I gave a favourable representation
      of his excuses and of the readiness which he had always evinced to keep
      out of the Correspondent articles hostile to France; as, for example, the
      commencement of a proclamation of the Emperor of Germany to his subjects,
      and a complete proclamation of the King of Sweden. As it happened, the
      good Syndic escaped with nothing worse than a fright; I was myself
      astonished at the success of my intercession. I learned from the Minister
      for Foreign Affairs that the Emperor was furiously indignant on reading
      the article, in which the French army was outraged as well as he. Indeed,
      he paid but little attention to insults directed against himself
      personally. Their eternal repetition had inured him to them; but at the
      idea of his army being insulted he was violently enraged, and uttered the
      most terrible threats.
    
M. Doormann was a very respectable man, and I presented a positive account of his excuses and the willingness he always showed to avoid the Correspondent articles that were critical of France; like, for instance, the start of a proclamation from the Emperor of Germany to his subjects and a complete proclamation from the King of Sweden. Fortunately, the good Syndic came through with nothing worse than a scare; I was honestly surprised by how well my plea worked. I found out from the Minister for Foreign Affairs that the Emperor was extremely angry after reading the article, which attacked both him and the French army. In fact, he hardly ever paid much mind to insults aimed at him personally. He had grown used to their constant repetition; but the thought of his army being insulted made him explosively furious, and he made the most dire threats.







      It is worthy of remark that the Swedish and English Ministers, as soon as
      they read the article, waited upon the editor of the Correspondent, and
      expressed their astonishment that such a libel should have been published.
      "Victorious armies," said they, "should be answered by cannonballs and not
      by insults as gross as they are ridiculous." This opinion was shared by
      all the foreigners at that time in Hamburg.
    
It's worth noting that the Swedish and English Ministers, as soon as they read the article, visited the editor of the Correspondent and expressed their shock that such a libel had been published. "Victorious armies," they said, "should be met with cannonballs, not with insults that are as outrageous as they are absurd." This view was shared by all the foreigners in Hamburg at that time.








 


 




















      CHAPTER XXXIV.
    



      1805
    
1805


   Difficulties of my situation at Hamburg—Toil and responsibility—
   Supervision of the emigrants—Foreign Ministers—Journals—Packet
   from Strasburg—Bonaparte fond of narrating Giulio, an extempore
   recitation of a story composed by the Emperor.

   Challenges I faced in Hamburg—Hard work and responsibility—  
   Overseeing the emigrants—Foreign Ministers—Journals—  
   Package from Strasbourg—Bonaparte enjoyed telling the story of Giulio, an impromptu retelling of a tale created by the Emperor.







      The brief detail I have given in the two or three preceding chapters of
      the events which occurred previously to and during the campaign of
      Austerlitz, with the letters of Duroc and Bernadotte, may afford the
      reader some idea of my situation during the early part of my residence in
      Hamburg. Events succeeded each other with such incredible rapidity as to
      render my labour excessive. My occupations were different, but not less
      laborious, than those which I formerly performed when near the Emperor;
      and, besides, I was now loaded with a responsibility which did not attach
      to me as the private secretary of General Bonaparte and the First Consul.
      I had, in fact, to maintain a constant watch over the emigrants in Altona,
      which was no easy matter—to correspond daily with the Minister for
      Foreign Affairs and the Minister of Police—to confer with the
      foreign Ministers accredited at Hamburg—to maintain active relations
      with the commanders of the French army—to interrogate my secret
      agents, and keep a strict surveillance over their proceedings; it was,
      besides, necessary to be unceasingly on the watch for scurrilous articles
      against Napoleon in the Hamburg 'Corespondent'. I shall frequently have
      occasion to speak of all these things, and especially of the most marked
      emigrants, in a manner less irregular, because what I have hitherto said
      may, in some sort, be considered merely as a summary of all the facts
      relating to the occurrences which daily passed before my eyes.
    
The brief details I've shared in the few chapters before this about the events leading up to and during the Austerlitz campaign, along with the letters from Duroc and Bernadotte, should give the reader a sense of my situation during the early days of my stay in Hamburg. Events unfolded so quickly that my workload became overwhelming. My tasks, although different, were just as demanding as those I carried out when I was close to the Emperor; plus, I now had a responsibility that I didn't have as General Bonaparte's private secretary and the First Consul. I had to keep a constant watch over the emigrants in Altona, which was quite challenging—to correspond daily with the Minister for Foreign Affairs and the Minister of Police—to meet with the foreign diplomats in Hamburg—to maintain active communication with the commanders of the French army—to question my secret agents and closely monitor their activities; I also needed to be constantly alert for any defamatory articles against Napoleon in the Hamburg 'Correspondent'. I will often refer back to these issues, particularly the prominent emigrants, in a more organized way, as what I've shared so far can be seen as just a summary of the events that unfolded before me daily.







      In the midst of these multifarious and weighty occupations I received a
      packet with the Strasburg postmark at the time the Empress was in that
      city. This packet had not the usual form of a diplomatic despatch, and the
      superscription announced that it came from the residence of Josephine. My
      readers, I venture to presume, will not experience less gratification than
      I did on a perusal of its contents, which will be found at the end of this
      chapter; but before satisfying the curiosity to which I have perhaps given
      birth, I may here relate that one of the peculiarities of Bonaparte was a
      fondness of extempore narration; and it appears he had not discontinued
      the practice even after he became Emperor.
    
In the middle of all these various and important tasks, I received a package with a Strasburg postmark while the Empress was in that city. This package didn't have the usual format of a diplomatic message, and the address indicated that it came from Josephine's residence. I believe my readers will find as much pleasure in reading its contents as I did, which you can find at the end of this chapter; but before I satisfy the curiosity I may have sparked, I should mention that one of Bonaparte's unique traits was his love for spontaneous storytelling, and it seems he didn't stop this practice even after he became Emperor.







      In fact, Bonaparte, during the first year after his elevation to the
      Imperial throne, usually passed those evenings in the apartments of the
      Empress which he could steal from public business. Throwing himself on a
      sofa, he would remain absorbed in gloomy silence, which no one dared to
      interrupt. Sometimes, however, on the contrary, he would give the reins to
      his vivid imagination and his love of the marvelous, or, to speak more
      correctly, his desire to produce effect, which was perhaps one of his
      strongest passions, and would relate little romances, which were always of
      a fearful description and in unison with the natural turn of his ideas.
      During those recitals the ladies-in-waiting were always present, to one of
      whom I am indebted for the following story, which she had written nearly
      in the words of Napoleon. "Never," said this lady in her letter to me,
      "did the Emperor appear more extraordinary. Led away by the subject, he
      paced the salon with hasty strides; the intonations of his voice varied
      according to the characters of the personages he brought on the scene; he
      seemed to multiply himself in order to play the different parts, and no
      person needed to feign the terror which he really inspired, and which he
      loved to see depicted in the countenances of those who surrounded him." In
      this tale I have made no alterations, as can be attested by those who, to
      my knowledge, have a copy of it. It is curious to compare the impassioned
      portions of it with the style of Napoleon in some of the letters addressed
      to Josephine.
    
In fact, Bonaparte, during the first year after he became Emperor, often spent those evenings in the Empress's rooms whenever he could escape from public duties. He would throw himself on a sofa, lost in a gloomy silence that no one dared to break. Sometimes, however, he would unleash his vivid imagination and love for the extraordinary, or more accurately, his desire to make an impression, which was probably one of his biggest passions, and would tell little stories that were always quite dark and aligned with his natural way of thinking. During these storytelling sessions, the ladies-in-waiting were always present, and one of them provided me with the following story, written almost in Napoleon's own words. "Never," this lady wrote to me, "did the Emperor seem more extraordinary. Caught up in the topic, he paced the room with quick steps; the intonations of his voice changed based on the characters he introduced; he appeared to become multiple people to play the different parts, and no one needed to pretend the fear he truly inspired, which he enjoyed seeing reflected on the faces of those around him." In this tale, I made no changes, as those who I know have a copy can confirm. It's interesting to compare the passionate parts of it with Napoleon's style in some letters he wrote to Josephine.








 


 

































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      CHAPTER I.
    



      1805.
    
1805.


   Abolition of the Republican calendar—Warlike preparations in
   Austria—Plan for re-organizing the National Guard—Napoleon in
   Strasburg—General Mack—Proclamation—Captain Bernard's
   reconnoitering mission—The Emperor's pretended anger and real
   satisfaction—Information respecting Ragusa communicated by Bernard
   —Rapid and deserved promotion—General Bernard's
   retirement to the United States of America.

   Abolition of the Republican calendar—Military preparations in Austria—Plan for reorganizing the National Guard—Napoleon in Strasbourg—General Mack—Proclamation—Captain Bernard's reconnaissance mission—The Emperor's feigned anger and true satisfaction—Information about Ragusa shared by Bernard—Quick and well-deserved promotion—General Bernard's move to the United States.







      I had been three months at Hamburg when I learned that the Emperor had at
      last resolved to abolish the only remaining memorial of the Republic,
      namely, the revolutionary calendar. That calendar was indeed an absurd
      innovation, for the new denominations of the months were not applicable in
      all places, even in France; the corn of Provence did not wait to be opened
      by the sun of the month of Messidor. On the 9th of September a
      'Senates-consulte' decreed that on the 1st of January following the months
      and days should resume their own names. I read with much interest
      Laplace's report to the Senate, and must confess I was very glad to see
      the Gregorian calendar again acknowledged by law, as it had already been
      acknowledged in fact. Frenchmen in foreign countries experienced
      particular inconvenience from the adoption of a system different from all
      the rest of the world.
    
I had been in Hamburg for three months when I found out that the Emperor had finally decided to get rid of the last remaining reminder of the Republic, which was the revolutionary calendar. That calendar was definitely a silly idea, as the new month names didn’t really work everywhere, not even in France; the wheat in Provence didn’t wait to be harvested by the sun of the month of Messidor. On September 9th, a 'Senates-consulte' declared that starting on January 1st, the months and days would revert to their original names. I read Laplace's report to the Senate with great interest and must admit I was very pleased to see the Gregorian calendar officially recognized by law, just as it had already been in practice. French people living abroad faced particular difficulties because they had to use a system that was different from the rest of the world.







      A few days after the revival of the old calendar the Emperor departed for
      the army. When at Hamburg it may well be supposed that I was anxious to
      obtain news, and I received plenty from the interior of Germany and from
      some friends in Paris. This correspondence enables me to present to my
      readers a comprehensive and accurate picture of the state of public
      affairs up to the time when Napoleon took the field. I have already
      mentioned how artfully he always made it appear that he was anxious for
      peace, and that he was always the party attacked; his, conduct previous to
      the first conquest of Vienna affords a striking example of this artifice.
      It was pretty evident that the transformation of the Cisalpine Republic
      into the kingdom of Italy, and the union of Genoa to France were
      infractions of treaties; yet the Emperor, nevertheless, pretended that all
      the infractions were committed by Austria. The truth is, that Austria was
      raising levies as secretly as possible, and collecting her troops on the
      frontiers of Bavaria. An Austrian corps even penetrated into some
      provinces of the Electorate; all this afforded Napoleon a pretext for
      going to the aid of his allies.
    
A few days after the old calendar was revived, the Emperor left for the army. While I was in Hamburg, it’s easy to imagine that I was eager for updates, and I received plenty from inside Germany and from friends in Paris. This correspondence helps me give my readers a clear and accurate picture of the situation in public affairs until the moment Napoleon went into battle. I've already pointed out how skillfully he always seemed to want peace, while portraying himself as the one being attacked; his behavior before the first capture of Vienna is a prime example of this tactic. It was quite clear that changing the Cisalpine Republic into the Kingdom of Italy and merging Genoa with France violated treaties; yet the Emperor still claimed that all the violations were made by Austria. The reality was that Austria was secretly raising troops and gathering them at the Bavarian borders. An Austrian force even moved into some regions of the Electorate; all of this gave Napoleon a reason to come to the assistance of his allies.







      In the memorable sitting preceding his departure the Emperor presented a
      project of a 'Senatus-consulte' relative to the re-organisation of the
      National Guard. The Minister for Foreign Affairs read an explanation of
      the reciprocal conduct of France and Austria since the peace of Luneville,
      in which the offences of France were concealed with wonderful skill.
      Before the sitting broke up the Emperor addressed the members, stating
      that he was about to leave the capital to place himself at the head of the
      army to afford prompt succour to his allies, and defend the dearest
      interests of his people. He boasted of his wish to preserve peace, which
      Austria and Russia, as he alleged, had, through the influence of England,
      been induced to disturb.
    
In the memorable meeting before his departure, the Emperor presented a proposal for a 'Senatus-consulte' regarding the reorganization of the National Guard. The Minister for Foreign Affairs provided an explanation of the interactions between France and Austria since the peace of Luneville, skillfully downplaying France's wrongdoings. Before the meeting ended, the Emperor spoke to the members, noting that he was about to leave the capital to lead the army in order to quickly assist his allies and protect the vital interests of his people. He claimed that he wanted to maintain peace, which Austria and Russia, he argued, had been pressured by England to disrupt.







      This address produced a very powerful impression in Hamburg. For my part,
      I recognised in it Napoleon's usual boasting strain; but on this occasion
      events seemed bent on justifying it. The Emperor may certainly have
      performed more scientific campaigns than that of Austerlitz, but never any
      more glorious in results. Everything seemed to partake of the marvellous,
      and I have often thought of the secret joy which Bonaparte must have felt
      on seeing himself at last an the point of commencing a great war in
      Germany, for which he had so often expressed an ardent desire. He
      proceeded first to Strasburg, whither Josephine accompanied him.
    
This speech made a strong impact in Hamburg. Personally, I recognized Napoleon's usual tendency to brag; however, this time it felt like events were supporting his claims. The Emperor may have led more strategic campaigns than Austerlitz, but none were as glorious in outcome. Everything seemed incredible, and I've often thought about the secret happiness Bonaparte must have felt at finally being on the verge of starting a major war in Germany, something he had longed for so often. He first went to Strasbourg, and Josephine accompanied him there.







      All the reports that I received agreed with the statements of my private
      correspondence in describing the incredible enthusiasm which prevailed in
      the army on learning that it was to march into Germany. For the first time
      Napoleon had recourse to an expeditious mode of transport, and 20,000
      carriages conveyed his army, as if by enchantment, from the shores of the
      Channel to the banks of the Rhine. The idea of an active campaign fired
      the ambition of the junior part of the army. All dreamed of glory, and of
      speedy promotion, and all hoped to distinguish themselves before the eyes
      of a chief who was idolised by his troops. Thus during his short stay at
      Strasburg the Emperor might with reason prophesy the success which crowned
      his efforts under the walls of Vienna.
    
All the reports I received agreed with my private correspondence in describing the amazing enthusiasm that filled the army when they learned they would be marching into Germany. For the first time, Napoleon used a fast mode of transport, and 20,000 carriages effortlessly moved his army from the shores of the Channel to the banks of the Rhine. The idea of an active campaign inspired the younger members of the army. Everyone dreamed of glory and quick promotions, hoping to stand out in front of a leader who was idolized by his troops. So, during his brief stay in Strasburg, the Emperor could justifiably predict the success that followed his efforts at the walls of Vienna.







      Rapp, who accompanied him, informed me that on leaving Strasburg he
      observed, in the presence of several persons, "It will be said that I made
      Mack's plan of campaign for him. The Caudine Forks are at Ulm."
    
Rapp, who was with him, told me that after leaving Strasburg he noted, in front of several people, "People will say I created Mack's battle plan for him. The Caudine Forks are at Ulm."






 —[This allusion to the Caudine Forks was always in Napoleon's mouth
   when he saw an enemy's army concentrated on a point, and foresaw its
   defeat—Bourrienne.]— 
—[This reference to the Caudine Forks was always on Napoleon's lips when he saw an enemy's army gathered in one place and predicted its defeat—Bourrienne.]—







      Experience proved that Bonaparte was not deceived; but I ought on this
      occasion to contradict a calumnious report circulated at that time, and
      since maliciously repeated. It has been said that there existed an
      understanding between Mack and Bonaparte, and that the general was bought
      over to deliver up the gates of Ulm. I have received positive proof that
      this assertion is a scandalous falsehood; and the only thing that could
      give it weight was Napoleon's intercession after the campaign that Mack
      might not be put on his trial. In this intercession Napoleon was actuated
      only by humanity.
    
Experience showed that Bonaparte wasn't mistaken; however, I need to address a slanderous rumor that was spread at that time and has been maliciously repeated since then. It's been claimed that there was a deal between Mack and Bonaparte, suggesting that the general was bribed to hand over the gates of Ulm. I have received solid proof that this claim is a disgraceful lie; the only reason it gained any credibility was Napoleon's intervention after the campaign to ensure that Mack wouldn't go to trial. In this intervention, Napoleon was motivated solely by compassion.







      On taking the field Napoleon placed himself at the head of the Bavarians,
      with whom be opposed the enemy's army before the arrival of his own
      troops. As soon as they were assembled he published the following
      proclamation, which still further excited the ardour of the troops.
    
Upon taking the field, Napoleon positioned himself at the front of the Bavarians, facing the enemy's army before his own troops arrived. Once they were gathered, he issued the following proclamation, which further fueled the troops' enthusiasm.






   SOLDIERS—The war of the third coalition is commenced. The Austrian
   army has passed the Inn, violated treaties, attacked and driven our
   ally from his capital. You yourselves have been obliged to hasten,
   by forced marches, to the defence of our frontiers. But you have
   now passed the Rhine; and we will not stop till we have secured the
   independence of the Germanic body, succoured our allies, and humbled
   the pride of our unjust assailants. We will not again make peace
   without a sufficient guarantee! Our generosity shall not again
   wrong our policy. Soldiers, your Emperor is among you! You are but
   the advanced guard of the great people. If it be necessary they
   will all rise at my call to confound and dissolve this new league,
   which has been created by the malice and the gold of England.
   But, soldiers, we shall have forced marches to make, fatigues and
   privations of every kind to endure. Still, whatever obstacles may
   be opposed to us, we will conquer them; and we will never rest until
   we have planted our eagles on the territory of our enemies!

   SOLDIERS—The war of the third coalition has begun. The Austrian army has crossed the Inn, broken treaties, attacked, and driven our ally from his capital. You have had to rush, through forced marches, to defend our borders. But you have now crossed the Rhine; and we won’t stop until we secure the independence of the Germanic body, assist our allies, and bring down the pride of our unjust attackers. We will not make peace again without a solid guarantee! Our generosity will not undermine our strategy again. Soldiers, your Emperor is with you! You are just the vanguard of the great people. If necessary, they will all rise at my call to defeat and dismantle this new alliance formed by the malice and wealth of England. But, soldiers, we will have to make forced marches, endure fatigue, and face all kinds of hardships. Still, no matter what challenges we face, we will overcome them; and we will never rest until we have planted our eagles in the territory of our enemies!







      In the confidential notes of his diplomatic agents, in his speeches, and
      in his proclamations, Napoleon always described himself as the attacked
      party, and perhaps his very earnestness in so doing sufficed to reveal the
      truth to all those who had learned to read his thoughts differently from
      what his words expressed them.
    
In the private notes of his diplomats, in his speeches, and in his declarations, Napoleon always portrayed himself as the victim. Maybe his intense sincerity in doing this was enough to show the truth to those who had come to understand his thoughts in a way that differed from what his words said.







      At the commencement of the campaign of Austerlitz a circumstance occurred
      from which is to be dated the fortune of a very meritorious man. While the
      Emperor was at Strasburg he asked General Marescot, the commander-in-chief
      of the engineers, whether he could recommend from his corps a brave,
      prudent, and intelligent young officer, capable of being entrusted with an
      important reconnoitering mission. The officer selected by General Marescot
      was a captain in the engineers, named Bernard, who had been educated in
      the Polytechnic School. He set off on his mission, advanced almost to
      Vienna, and returned to the headquarters of the Emperor at the
      capitulation of Ulm.
    
At the start of the Austerlitz campaign, an event took place that marked the beginning of







      Bonaparte interrogated him himself, and was well satisfied with his
      replies; but, not content with answering verbally the questions put by
      Napoleon, Captain Bernard had drawn up a report of what he observed, and
      the different routes which might be taken. Among other things he observed
      that it would be a great advantage to direct the whole army upon Vienna,
      without regard to the fortified places; for that, once master of the
      capital of Austria, the Emperor might dictate laws to all the Austrian
      monarchy. "I was present," said Rapp to me, "at this young officer's
      interview with the Emperor. After reading the report, would you believe
      that the Emperor flew into a furious passion? 'How!' cried he, 'you are
      very bold, very presumptuous! A young officer to take the liberty of
      tracing out a plan of campaign for me! Begone, and await my orders.'"
    
Bonaparte personally interrogated him and was pleased with his answers; however, not satisfied with just answering Napoleon’s questions verbally, Captain Bernard had prepared a report detailing his observations and the various routes that could be taken. Among other points, he noted that it would be very beneficial to direct the entire army toward Vienna, without worrying about the fortified locations; for once in control of the capital of Austria, the Emperor could impose his will on the entire Austrian monarchy. "I was there," Rapp told me, "during this young officer's meeting with the Emperor. After reading the report, can you believe the Emperor became absolutely furious? 'What!' he shouted, 'you are quite bold, very arrogant! A young officer thinks he can lay out a campaign plan for me! Get out of here and wait for my orders.'"







      This, and some other circumstances which I shall have to add respecting
      Captain Bernard, completely reveal Napoleon's character. Rapp told me that
      as soon as the young officer had left the Emperor all at once changed his
      tone. "That," said he, "is a clever young man; he has taken a proper view
      of things. I shall not expose him to the chance of being shot. Perhaps I
      shall sometime want his services. Tell Berthier to despatch an order for
      his departure for Elyria."
    
This, along with a few other things I need to mention about Captain Bernard, really shows Napoleon's character. Rapp told me that as soon as the young officer left, the Emperor suddenly changed his tone. "That," he said, "is a smart young man; he has a good perspective on things. I won’t put him in danger of being shot. I might need his services someday. Tell Berthier to send an order for him to head to Elyria."







      This order was despatched, and Captain Bernard, who, like his comrades,
      was ardently looking forward to the approaching campaign, regarded as a
      punishment what was, on the Emperor's part, a precaution to preserve a
      young man whose merit he appreciated. At the close of the campaign, when
      the Emperor promoted those officers who had distinguished themselves,
      Bernard, who was thought to be in disgrace, was not included in Berthier's
      list among the captains of engineers whom he recommended to the rank of
      chef de bataillon; but Napoleon himself inscribed Bernard's name before
      all the rest. However, the Emperor forgot him for some time; and it was
      only an accidental circumstance that brought him to his recollection. I
      never had any personal acquaintance with Bernard, but I learned from Rapp,
      how he afterwards became his colleague as aide de camp to the Emperor; a
      circumstance which I shall now relate, though it refers to a later period.
    
This order was sent out, and Captain Bernard, who, like his fellow soldiers, was eagerly anticipating the upcoming campaign, saw what the Emperor considered a precaution to protect a promising young man, as a punishment. At the end of the campaign, when the Emperor promoted the officers who had excelled, Bernard, who was thought to be in disgrace, was not included in Berthier's list of engineer captains recommended for the rank of chef de bataillon; however, Napoleon himself wrote Bernard's name at the top of the list. Still, the Emperor overlooked him for a while, and it was only by chance that he came to remember him. I never personally knew Bernard, but I learned from Rapp how he later became his colleague as an aide de camp to the Emperor; I will now share that story, even though it pertains to a later time.







      Before the Emperor left Paris for the campaign of 1812 he wished to gain
      precise information respecting Ragusa and Elyria. He sent for Marmont, but
      was not satisfied with his answers. He then interrogated several other
      generals, but the result of his inquiries always was, "This is all very
      well; but it is not what I want. I do not know Ragusa." He then sent for
      General Dejean, who had succeeded M. de Marescot as first inspector of the
      Engineers.
    
Before the Emperor left Paris for the 1812 campaign, he wanted to get accurate information about Ragusa and Elyria. He called for Marmont but wasn't happy with his responses. Then he questioned several other generals, but each time he got the same reply: "This is all fine, but it's not what I need. I don't know Ragusa." Next, he summoned General Dejean, who had taken over from M. de Marescot as the chief inspector of the Engineers.







      "Have you any one among your officers," he asked, "who is well acquainted
      with Ragusa?" Dejean, after a little reflection, replied, "Sire, there is
      a chef de bataillon who has been a long time forgotten, but who knows
      Elyria perfectly."—"What's his name?"—"Bernard."—"Ah!
      stop . . . Bernard! I remember that name. Where is he?"—"At Antwerp,
      Sire, employed on the fortifications."—"Let a telegraphic despatch
      be immediately, transmitted,—[by semaphore arms.]—desiring him
      to mount his horse and come with all speed to Paris."
    
"Do you have anyone among your officers," he asked, "who knows Ragusa well?" Dejean thought for a moment and replied, "Sire, there is a battalion chief who has been overlooked for a while, but he knows Elyria inside and out."—"What's his name?"—"Bernard."—"Oh! wait... Bernard! I remember that name. Where is he?"—"In Antwerp, Sire, working on the fortifications."—"Send a telegram immediately—[by semaphore arms.]—asking him to get on his horse and come to Paris as fast as he can."







      The promptitude with which the Emperor's orders were always executed is
      well known. A few days after Captain Bernard was in the Emperor's cabinet
      in Paris. Napoleon received him very graciously. The first thing he said
      was, "Talk to me about Ragusa." This was a favourite mode of interrogation
      with him in similar cases, and I have heard him say that it was a sure way
      of drawing out all that a man had observed in any country that he had
      visited. Be that as it may, he was perfectly satisfied with M. Bernard's
      information respecting Elyria; and when the chef de bataillon had finished
      speaking Napoleon said, "Colonel Bernard, I am now acquainted with
      Ragusa." The Emperor afterwards conversed familiarly with him, entered
      into details respecting the system of fortification adopted at Antwerp,
      referred to the plan of the works, criticised it, and showed how he would,
      if he besieged the town, render the means of defence unavailing. The new
      Colonel explained so well how he would defend the town against the
      Emperor's attack that Bonaparte was delighted, and immediately bestowed
      upon, the young officer a mark of distinction which, as far as I know, he
      never granted but upon that single occasion. The Emperor was going to
      preside at the Council of State, and desired Colonel Bernard to accompany
      him, and many times during the sittings be asked him for his opinion upon
      the points which were under discussion. On leaving the Council Napoleon
      said, "Bernard, you are in future my aide de camp." After the campaign he
      was made General of Brigade, soon after General of Division, and now he is
      acknowledged to be one of the ablest engineer officers in existence.
      Clarke's silly conduct deprived France of this distinguished man, who
      refused the brilliant offers of several sovereigns of Europe for the sake
      of retiring to the United States of America, where he commands the
      Engineers, and has constructed fortifications on the coast of the Floridas
      which are considered by engineers to be masterpieces of military art.
    
The quickness with which the Emperor's orders were always carried out is well known. A few days later, Captain Bernard found himself in the Emperor's cabinet in Paris. Napoleon welcomed him warmly. The first thing he said was, "Tell me about Ragusa." This was a favorite way for him to ask questions in similar situations, and I heard him say it was a reliable method for getting someone to share everything they had observed in any country they visited. Regardless, he was very pleased with M. Bernard's information about Elyria; and when the chef de bataillon finished speaking, Napoleon remarked, "Colonel Bernard, I now know about Ragusa." The Emperor then talked casually with him, delved into details about the fortification system at Antwerp, commented on the layout of the works, critiqued it, and showed how he would render the defense ineffective if he were to lay siege to the town. The new Colonel explained so effectively how he would defend the town against the Emperor's attack that Bonaparte was thrilled, and immediately awarded the young officer a distinction that, as far as I know, he only granted on that one occasion. The Emperor was about to lead the Council of State and asked Colonel Bernard to accompany him, frequently seeking his opinion on the matters being discussed. Upon leaving the Council, Napoleon said, "Bernard, from now on you're my aide-de-camp." After the campaign, he was made General of Brigade, soon thereafter General of Division, and he is now recognized as one of the most capable engineer officers around. Clarke's foolish behavior deprived France of this distinguished man, who turned down impressive offers from several European leaders to retire to the United States, where he leads the Engineers and has built fortifications on the coast of Florida that are considered masterpieces of military engineering.








 


 




















      CHAPTER II.
    



      1805.
    
1805.


   Rapidity of Napoleon's victories—Murat at Wertingen—Conquest of
   Ney's duchy—The French army before Ulm—The Prince of Liechtenstein
   at the Imperial headquarters—His interview with Napoleon described
   by Rapp—Capitulation of Ulm signed by Berthier and Mack—Napoleon
   before and after a victory—His address to the captive generals—
   The Emperor's proclamation—Ten thousand prisoners taken by Murat—
   Battle of Caldiero in Italy—Letter from Duroc—Attempts to retard
   the Emperor's progress—Fruitless mission of M. de Giulay—The first
   French eagles taken by the Russians—Bold adventure of Lannes and
   Murat—The French enter Vienna—Savary's mission to the Emperor
   Alexander.

   Speed of Napoleon's victories—Murat at Wertingen—Conquest of Ney's duchy—The French army before Ulm—The Prince of Liechtenstein at the Imperial headquarters—His meeting with Napoleon described by Rapp—Capitulation of Ulm signed by Berthier and Mack—Napoleon before and after a victory—His speech to the captured generals—The Emperor's proclamation—Ten thousand prisoners taken by Murat—Battle of Caldiero in Italy—Letter from Duroc—Attempts to slow down the Emperor's progress—Fruitless mission of M. de Giulay—The first French eagles captured by the Russians—Daring adventure of Lannes and Murat—The French enter Vienna—Savary's mission to Emperor Alexander.







      To convey an idea of the brilliant campaign of 1805 from an abstract of
      the reports and letters I received at Hamburg I should, like the
      almanac-makers, be obliged to note down a victory for every day. Was not
      the rapidity of the Emperor's first operations a thing hitherto
      unprecedented? He departed from Paris on the 24th of September, and
      hostilities commenced on the 2d of October. On the 6th and 7th the French
      passed the Danube, and turned the enemy's army. On the 8th Murat, at the
      battle of Wertingen, on the Danube, took 2000 Austrian prisoners, amongst
      whom, besides other general officers, was Count Auffemberg. Next day the
      Austrians fell back upon Gunsburg, retreating before our victorious
      legions, who, pursuing their triumphal course, entered Augsburg on the
      10th, and Munich on the 12th. When I received my despatches I could have
      fancied I was reading a fabulous narrative. Two days after the French
      entered Munich—that is to say, on the 14th—an Austrian corps
      of 6000 men surrendered to Marshal Soult at Memingen, whilst Ney
      conquered, sword in hand, his future Duchy of Elchingen. Finally, on the
      17th of October, came the famous capitulation of General Mack at Ulm,' and
      on the same day hostilities commenced in Italy between the French and
      Austrians, the former commanded by Massena and the latter by Prince
      Charles.
    
To give an idea of the brilliant campaign of 1805 based on the reports and letters I received in Hamburg, I would have to note a victory for every day, just like the almanac-makers. Wasn't the speed of the Emperor's initial operations something never seen before? He left Paris on September 24, and fighting started on October 2. On the 6th and 7th, the French crossed the Danube and outmaneuvered the enemy's army. On the 8th, Murat captured 2,000 Austrian soldiers at the Battle of Wertingen on the Danube, including Count Auffemberg and other general officers. The next day, the Austrians fell back to Gunsburg, retreating before our victorious forces, who triumphantly entered Augsburg on the 10th and Munich on the 12th. When I read my reports, I could have sworn I was reading a fantastic story. Two days after the French entered Munich—on the 14th—an Austrian corps of 6,000 men surrendered to Marshal Soult at Memingen, while Ney, sword in hand, seized his future Duchy of Elchingen. Finally, on October 17, came the famous surrender of General Mack at Ulm, and on that same day, fighting began in Italy between the French and the Austrians, with the former led by Massena and the latter by Prince Charles.






 —[Prince Maurice Liechtenstein was sent by General Mack as a flag
   of truce to the Imperial headquarters before Ulm. He was, according
   to custom, led blindfold on horseback. Rapp, who was present,
   together with several of Napoleon's aides de camp, afterwards spoke
   to me of the Prince's interview with the Emperor. I think he told
   me that Berthier was present likewise. "Picture to yourself," said
   Rapp, "the astonishment, or rather confusion, of the poor Prince
   when the bandage was removed from his eyes. He knew nothing of what
   had been going on, and did not even suspect that the Emperor had yet
   joined the army. When he understood that he was in the presence of
   Napoleon he could not suppress an exclamation of surprise, which did
   not escape the Emperor, and he ingenuously acknowledged that General
   Mack had no idea he was before the walls of Ulm." Prince
   Liechtenstein proposed to capitulate on condition that the garrison
   of Ulm should be allowed to return into Austria. This proposal, in
   the situation in which the garrison stood, Rapp said, made the
   Emperor smile. "How can you expect," said Napoleon, "that I can
   accede to such a proposition? What shall I gain by it? Eight days.
   In eight days you will be in my power without any condition. Do you
   suppose I am not acquainted with everything? . . You expect the
   Russians? . . . At the nearest they are in Bohemia. Were I to
   allow you to march out, what security can I have that you will not
   join them, and afterwards fight against me? Your generals have
   deceived me often enough, and I will no longer be duped. At Marengo
   I was weak enough to allow the troops of Melas to march out of
   Alessandria. He promised to treat for peace. What happened? Two
   months after Moreau had to fight with the garrison of Alessandria.
   Besides, this war is not an ordinary war. After the conduct of your
   Government I am not bound to keep any terms with it. I have no
   faith in its promises. You have attacked me. If I should agree to
   what you ask, Mack would pledge his word, I know. But, even relying
   on his good faith, would be he able to keep his promise? As far as
   regards himself—yes; but as regards his army—no. If the Archduke
   Ferdinand were still with you I could rely upon his word, because he
   would be responsible for the conditions, and he would not disgrace
   himself; but I know he has quitted Ulm and passed the Danube. I
   know how to reach him, however."

   Rapp said it was impossible to imagine the embarrassment of Prince
   Liechtenstein whilst the Emperor was speaking. He, however,
   somewhat regained his self-possession, and observed that, unless the
   conditions which he proposed were granted the army would not
   capitulate. "If that be the case," said Napoleon. "you may as well
   go back to Mack, for I will never grant such conditions. Are you
   jesting with me? Stay; here is the capitulation of Memingen—show
   it to your General—let him surrender on the same conditions—I will
   consent to no others. Your officers may return to Austria, but the
   soldiers must be prisoners. Tell him to be speedy, for I have no
   time to lose. The more he delays the worse he will render his own
   condition and yours. To-morrow I shall have here the corps to which
   Memingen capitulated, and then we shall see what is to be done.
   Make Mack clearly understand that he has no alternative but to
   conform to my will."

   The imperious tones which Napoleon employed towards his enemies
   almost always succeeded, and it produced the accustomed effect upon
   Mack. On the same day that Prince Liechtenstein had been at our
   headquarters Mack wrote to the Emperor, stating that he would not
   have treated with any other on such terms; but that he yielded to
   the ascendency of Napoleon's fortune; and on the following day
   Berthier was sent into Ulm, from whence he returned with the
   capitulation signed. Thus Napoleon was not mistaken respecting the
   Caudine Forks of the Austrian army. The garrison of Ulm marched out
   with what are called the honours of war, and were led prisoners into
   France.—Bourrienne.]— 
 —[Prince Maurice Liechtenstein was sent by General Mack as a flag of truce to the Imperial headquarters before Ulm. According to custom, he was led blindfolded on horseback. Rapp, who was there along with several of Napoleon's aides, later told me about the Prince's meeting with the Emperor. I think he mentioned that Berthier was also present. "Just imagine," Rapp said, "the shock, or rather confusion, of the poor Prince when the blindfold was taken off. He had no idea what was happening and didn’t even suspect that the Emperor had joined the army. When he realized he was in front of Napoleon, he couldn’t help but exclaim in surprise, which caught the Emperor’s attention. He honestly admitted that General Mack had no clue he was outside Ulm." Prince Liechtenstein suggested capitulating on the condition that the garrison of Ulm would be allowed to return to Austria. This proposal, considering the position of the garrison, made the Emperor smile, Rapp said. "How could you expect," Napoleon said, "that I could agree to such a proposal? What would I gain? Eight days. In eight days, you’ll be at my mercy without any conditions. Do you think I'm not aware of everything? ... You expect the Russians? ... At the nearest, they're in Bohemia. If I let you leave, what guarantee do I have that you won’t join them and fight against me later? Your generals have deceived me enough times, and I won’t be fooled again. At Marengo, I was foolish enough to let Melas's troops leave Alessandria. He swore he would negotiate for peace. What happened? Two months later, Moreau had to battle the garrison of Alessandria. Besides, this war isn’t ordinary. Given your government’s conduct, I have no obligation to deal fairly with it. I don't trust its promises. You attacked me. If I agree to your request, Mack would promise, I know. But can he keep his word? For himself—sure; but for his army—not a chance. If Archduke Ferdinand was still with you, I could trust him because he would be responsible for the terms, and he wouldn’t let himself down; but I know he has left Ulm and crossed the Danube. However, I know how to reach him."

  Rapp said it’s hard to imagine the embarrassment of Prince Liechtenstein while the Emperor spoke. He did regain some composure and noted that unless the conditions he proposed were accepted, the army would not capitulate. "If that’s the case," Napoleon replied, "you might as well head back to Mack because I will never agree to those conditions. Are you joking with me? Wait; here’s the capitulation of Memingen—show that to your General—let him surrender under the same terms—I will agree to no others. Your officers can go back to Austria, but the soldiers will need to be prisoners. Tell him to hurry because I have no time to waste. The longer he waits, the worse he makes the situation for both of you. Tomorrow, I will have the corps that Memingen capitulated to here, and then we’ll see what can be done. Make sure Mack understands that he has no choice but to comply with my demands."

  The commanding tone that Napoleon used with his enemies usually worked, and it had the expected effect on Mack. On the same day that Prince Liechtenstein visited our headquarters, Mack wrote to the Emperor saying that he wouldn’t have negotiated with anyone else under such terms; but that he yielded to the influence of Napoleon's fortune. The next day, Berthier was sent to Ulm, returning with the signed capitulation. Thus, Napoleon was right about the dire situation of the Austrian army. The garrison of Ulm marched out with what are referred to as the honors of war and were taken prisoner in France.—Bourrienne.]—







      Napoleon, who was so violently irritated by any obstacle which opposed
      him, and who treated with so much hauteur everybody who ventured to resist
      his inflexible will, was no longer the same man when, as a conqueror, he
      received the vanquished generals at Ulm. He condoled with them on their
      misfortune; and this, I can affirm, was not the result of a feeling of
      pride concealed beneath a feigned generosity. Although he profited by
      their defeat he pitied them sincerely. How frequently has he observed to
      me, "How much to be pitied is a general on the day after a lost battle."
      He had himself experienced this misfortune when he was obliged to raise
      the siege of St. Jean d'Acre. At that moment he would, I believe, have
      strangled Djezzar; but if Djezzar had surrendered, he would have treated
      him with the same attention which he showed to Mack and the other generals
      of the garrison of Ulm. These generals were seventeen in number, and among
      them was Prince Liechtenstein. There were also General Klenau (Baron de
      Giulay), who had acquired considerable military reputation in the
      preceding wars, and General Fresnel, who stood in a more critical
      situation than his companions in misfortune, for he was a Frenchman, and
      an emigrant.
    
Napoleon, who was easily irritated by any obstacles in his way and treated anyone who dared to challenge his strong will with disdain, was no longer the same person when, as a conqueror, he met the defeated generals at Ulm. He expressed sympathy for their misfortune; and I can assure you this was not simply pride hidden behind false generosity. Even though he benefited from their defeat, he genuinely felt for them. He often told me, "You have to feel sorry for a general the day after a lost battle." He had gone through this himself when he had to lift the siege of St. Jean d'Acre. In that moment, he might have wanted to strangle Djezzar, but if Djezzar had surrendered, he would have treated him with the same respect he showed to Mack and the other generals of the garrison at Ulm. These generals numbered seventeen, including Prince Liechtenstein. There was also General Klenau (Baron de Giulay), who had gained significant military reputation in earlier wars, and General Fresnel, who found himself in a more difficult position than his fellow unfortunate generals, as he was a Frenchman and an emigrant.







      Rapp told me that it was really painful to see these generals. They bowed
      respectfully to the Emperor, having Mack at their head. They preserved a
      mournful silence, and Napoleon was the first to speak, which he did in the
      following terms: "Gentlemen, I feel sorry that such brave men as you are
      should be the victims of the follies of a Cabinet which cherishes insane
      projects, and which does not hesitate to commit the dignity of the
      Austrian nation by trafficking with the services of its generals. Your
      names are known to me—they are honourably known wherever you have
      fought. Examine the conduct of those who have committed you. What could be
      more iniquitous than to attack me without a declaration of war? Is it not
      criminal to bring foreign invasion upon a country? Is it not betraying
      Europe to introduce Asiatic barbarities into her disputes? If good policy
      had been followed the Aulic Council, instead of attacking me, would have
      sought my alliance in order to drive back the Russians to the north. The
      alliance which your Cabinet has formed will appear monstrous in history.
      It is the alliance of dogs, shepherds, and wolves against sheep—such
      a scheme could never have been planned in the mind of a statesman. It is
      fortunate for you that I have not been defeated in the unjust struggle to
      which I have been provoked; if I had, the Cabinet of Vienna would have
      soon perceived its error, for which, perhaps, it will yet one day pay
      dearly."
    
Rapp told me that witnessing these generals was truly painful. They bowed respectfully to the Emperor, with Mack leading them. They remained silent and somber, and Napoleon was the first to break the silence, saying: "Gentlemen, it's unfortunate that such brave men like you have become victims of a Cabinet that is pursuing foolish plans and doesn't hesitate to undermine the dignity of the Austrian nation by using its generals for their purposes. I know your names—they are respected wherever you've fought. Look at the actions of those who have orchestrated this. What could be more unjust than to attack me without declaring war? Isn't it wrong to bring a foreign invasion to your country? Isn't it a betrayal of Europe to bring in Eastern barbarism into her conflicts? If the Aulic Council had any sense, instead of attacking me, they would have sought my alliance to push back the Russians to the north. The alliance your Cabinet has formed will seem monstrous in history. It's like the alliance of dogs, shepherds, and wolves against sheep—no true statesman could have devised such a plan. It's lucky for you that I haven't been defeated in this unfair struggle I've been forced into; if I had, the Cabinet in Vienna would have soon realized its mistake, for which they might yet pay dearly."







      What a change fifteen days of success, crowned by the capture of Ulm, had
      made in affairs! At Hamburg I knew through my agents to what a degree of
      folly the hopes of Napoleon's enemies had risen before he began the
      campaign. The security of the Cabinet of Vienna was really inexplicable;
      not only did they not dream of the series of victories which made Napoleon
      master of all the Austrian monarchy, but the assistants of Drake and all
      the intriguers of that sort treated France already as a conquered country,
      and disposed of some of our provinces. In the excess of their folly, to
      only give one instance, they promised the town of Lyons to the King of
      Sardinia, to recompense him for the temporary occupation of Piedmont.
    
What a difference fifteen days of success, highlighted by the capture of Ulm, made in the situation! In Hamburg, I learned through my contacts just how misguided the hopes of Napoleon's enemies had become before the campaign began. The confidence of the Vienna Cabinet was truly baffling; they not only failed to anticipate the string of victories that would make Napoleon the ruler of the entire Austrian monarchy, but also the collaborators of Drake and all the schemers of that kind were already treating France as a defeated nation, dividing up some of our provinces. In their extreme naivety, just to give one example, they promised the city of Lyons to the King of Sardinia as a reward for temporarily occupying Piedmont.






 —[In the treaties and declarations (see Martens and Thiers, tome v.
   p. 355) there is rather a tendency to sell the skin of the bear
   before killing him.]— 
 —[In the treaties and declarations (see Martens and Thiers, volume v. p. 355) there is a tendency to sell the bear's skin before actually catching the bear.]—







      While Napoleon flattered his prisoners at the expense of their Government
      he wished to express satisfaction at the conduct of his own army, and with
      this view he published a remarkable proclamation, which in some measure
      presented an abstract of all that had taken place since the opening of the
      campaign.
    
While Napoleon praised his prisoners at the expense of their government, he wanted to show his satisfaction with the behavior of his own army. To do this, he issued a notable proclamation that summarized everything that had happened since the start of the campaign.







      This proclamation was as follows:—
    
This announcement was as follows:—






   SOLDIERS OF THE GRAND ARMY—In a fortnight we have finished an
   entire campaign. What we proposed to do has been done. We have
   driven the Austrian troops from Bavaria, and restored our ally to
   the sovereignty of his dominions.

   That army, which, with equal presumption and imprudence, marched
   upon our frontiers, is annihilated.

   But what does this signify to England? She has gained her object.
   We are no longer at Boulogne, and her subsidy will be neither more
   nor less.

   Of a hundred thousand men who composed that army, sixty thousand are
   prisoners. They will replace our conscripts in the labours of
   agriculture.

   Two hundred pieces of cannon, the whole park of artillery, ninety
   flags, and all their generals are in our power. Fifteen thousand
   men only have escaped.

   Soldiers! I announced to you the result of a great battle; but,
   thanks to the ill-devised schemes of the enemy, I was enabled to
   secure the wished-for result without incurring any danger, and, what
   is unexampled in the history of nations, that result has been gained
   at the sacrifice of scarcely fifteen hundred men killed and wounded.

   Soldiers! this success is due to your unlimited confidence in your
   Emperor, to your patience in enduring fatigues and privations of
   every kind, and to your singular courage and intrepidity.

   But we will not stop here. You are impatient to commence another
   campaign!

   The Russian army, which English gold has brought from the
   extremities of the universe, shall experience the same fate as that
   which we have just defeated.

   In the conflict in which we are about to engage the honour of the
   French infantry is especially concerned. We shall now see another
   decision of the question which has already been determined in
   Switzerland and Holland; namely, whether the French infantry is the
   first or the second in Europe.

   Among the Russians there are no generals in contending against whom
   I can acquire any glory. All I wish is to obtain the victory with
   the least possible bloodshed. My soldiers are, my children.

SOLDIERS OF THE GRAND ARMY—In two weeks, we've wrapped up a whole campaign. What we set out to do has been achieved. We’ve driven the Austrian troops out of Bavaria and restored our ally to the control of his territories.

That army, which foolishly marched toward our borders, has been obliterated.

But what does this mean for England? She’s reached her goal. We are no longer in Boulogne, and her support will be unchanged.

Out of the hundred thousand soldiers in that army, sixty thousand are now prisoners. They will take the place of our conscripts in agricultural work.

We have captured two hundred cannons, the entire artillery park, ninety flags, and all their generals. Only fifteen thousand men have managed to escape.

Soldiers! I informed you about the outcome of a major battle; however, due to the enemy's poorly planned strategies, I was able to achieve the desired outcome without facing any danger, and, remarkably in the history of nations, this success was achieved with the loss of barely fifteen hundred men killed and wounded.

Soldiers! This victory is thanks to your unwavering trust in your Emperor, your patience in enduring exhaustion and hardships of all kinds, and your extraordinary courage and bravery.

But we won't stop here. You're eager to start another campaign!

The Russian army, which English money has brought from the ends of the earth, will meet the same fate as the one we just defeated.

In the upcoming fight, the honor of the French infantry is particularly at stake. We are about to see another judgment on the question already settled in Switzerland and Holland: whether the French infantry is the best or the second-best in Europe.

Among the Russians, there are no generals I can fight against to gain any glory. All I want is to win with as little bloodshed as possible. My soldiers are like my children.







      This proclamation always appeared to me a masterpiece of military
      eloquence. While he lavished praises on his troops, he excited their
      emulation by hinting that the Russians were capable of disputing with them
      the first rank among the infantry of Europe, and he concluded his address
      by calling them his children.
    
This proclamation always seemed to me a masterclass in military rhetoric. While he showered his troops with praise, he stirred their ambition by suggesting that the Russians could challenge them for the top spot among Europe’s infantry, and he wrapped up his speech by calling them his children.







      The second campaign, to which Napoleon alleged they so eagerly looked
      forward, speedily ensued, and hostilities were carried on with a degree of
      vigour which fired the enthusiasm of the army. Heaven knows what accounts
      were circulated of the Russians, who, as Bonaparte solemnly stated in his
      proclamation, had come from the extremity of the world. They were
      represented as half-naked savages, pillaging, destroying and burning
      wherever they went. It was even asserted that they were cannibals, and had
      been seen to eat children. In short, at that period was introduced the
      denomination of northern barbarians which has since been so generally
      applied to the Russians. Two days after the capitulation of Ulm Murat
      obtained the capitulation of Trochtelfingen from General Yarneck, and made
      10,000 prisoners, so that, without counting killed and wounded, the
      Austrian army had sustained a diminution of 50,000 men after a campaign of
      twenty days. On the 27th of October the French army crossed the Inn, and
      thus penetrated into the Austrian territory. Salzburg and Brannan were
      immediately taken. The army of Italy, under the command of Massena, was
      also obtaining great advantages. On the 30th of October, that is to say,
      the very day on which the Grand Army took the above-mentioned fortresses,
      the army of Italy, having crossed the Adige, fought a sanguinary battle at
      Caldiero, and took 5000 Austrian prisoners.
    
The second campaign, which Napoleon claimed everyone was really excited about, quickly followed, and the fighting was intense, boosting the army's enthusiasm. Who knows what stories were spread about the Russians, who, as Bonaparte seriously stated in his proclamation, had come from the far ends of the earth. They were portrayed as half-naked savages, looting, destroying, and burning everything in their path. It was even said that they were cannibals who had been seen eating children. In short, this was when the term "northern barbarians" became widely associated with the Russians. Two days after the surrender of Ulm, Murat secured the surrender of Trochtelfingen from General Yarneck, taking 10,000 prisoners, so that, without counting the dead and wounded, the Austrian army had lost 50,000 men after just twenty days of campaigning. On October 27, the French army crossed the Inn, entering Austrian territory. Salzburg and Brannan were captured right away. Meanwhile, the army in Italy, led by Massena, was also having significant successes. On October 30, the exact day the Grand Army captured the aforementioned fortresses, the army in Italy crossed the Adige and fought a bloody battle at Caldiero, taking 5,000 Austrian prisoners.







      In the extraordinary campaign, which has been distinguished by the name of
      "the Campaign of Austerlitz," the exploits of our troops succeeded each
      other with the rapidity of thought. I confess I was equally astonished and
      delighted when I received a note from Duroc, sent by an extraordinary
      courier, and commencing laconically with the words, "We are in Vienna; the
      Emperor is well."
    
In the remarkable campaign known as "the Campaign of Austerlitz," our troops' achievements came one after another as quickly as thought. I have to admit I was both amazed and thrilled when I got a message from Duroc, delivered by a special courier, starting simply with, "We are in Vienna; the Emperor is well."







      Duroc's letter was dated the 13th November, and the words, "We are in
      Vienna," seemed to me the result of a dream. The capital of Austria, which
      from time immemorial had not been occupied by foreigners—the city
      which Sobieski had saved from Ottoman violence, had become the prey of the
      Imperial eagle of France, which, after a lapse of three centuries, avenged
      the humiliations formerly imposed upon Francis I. by the 'Aquila Grifagna'
      of Charles V. Duroc had left the Emperor before the camp of Boulogne was
      raised; his mission to Berlin being terminated, he rejoined the Emperor at
      Lintz.
    
Duroc's letter was dated November 13th, and the words, "We are in Vienna," felt like a dream to me. The capital of Austria, which hadn’t been occupied by foreigners for ages—the city that Sobieski had saved from Ottoman violence—had fallen to the Imperial eagle of France, which, after three centuries, was getting back at the humiliations previously imposed on Francis I by the 'Aquila Grifagna' of Charles V. Duroc had left the Emperor before the camp at Boulogne was dismantled; after finishing his mission in Berlin, he rejoined the Emperor in Linz.






 —[As soon as Bonaparte became Emperor he constituted himself the
   avenger of all the insults given to the sovereigns, whom he styled
   his predecessors. All that related to the honour of France was
   sacred to him. Thus he removed the column of Rosbach from the
   Prussian territory.—Bourrienne.]— 
 —[As soon as Bonaparte became Emperor, he made himself the avenger of all the insults against the monarchs he referred to as his predecessors. Everything connected to the honor of France was sacred to him. So, he took down the column of Rosbach from Prussian territory.—Bourrienne.]— 







      Before I noticed the singular mission of M. Haugwitz to the Emperor
      Napoleon, and the result of that mission, which circumstances rendered
      diametrically the reverse of its object, I will relate what came to my
      knowledge respecting some other negotiations on the part of Austria, the
      evident intent of which was to retard Napoleon's progress, and thereby to
      dupe him. M. de Giulay, one of the generals included in the capitulation
      of Ulm, had returned home to acquaint his sovereign with the disastrous
      event. He did not conceal, either from the Emperor Francis or the Cabinet
      of Vienna, the destruction of the Austrian army, and the impossibility of
      arresting the rapid advance of the French. M. de Giulay was sent with a
      flag of truce to the headquarters of Napoleon, to assure him of the
      pacific intentions of the Emperor of Austria, and to solicit an armistice.
      The snare was too clumsy not to be immediately discovered by so crafty a
      man as Napoleon.
    
Before I realized the unique mission of M. Haugwitz to Emperor Napoleon and how the outcome of that mission ended up being completely opposite to its goal, I want to share what I learned about some other negotiations by Austria, which clearly aimed to slow down Napoleon's progress and trick him. M. de Giulay, one of the generals involved in the capitulation at Ulm, had returned home to inform his sovereign about the disastrous event. He did not hide from Emperor Francis or the Cabinet in Vienna the destruction of the Austrian army and the impossibility of stopping the rapid advance of the French forces. M. de Giulay was sent with a flag of truce to Napoleon's headquarters to assure him of the peaceful intentions of the Emperor of Austria and to request an armistice. The trap was too obvious not to be quickly seen through by someone as shrewd as Napoleon.






 —[Metternich (tome ii. p. 346, compare French edition, tome ii.
   p. 287) says, "Let us hold always the sword in one hand and the
   olive branch in the other; always ready to negotiate, but only
   negotiating while advancing." Here is Napoleons system.]— 
 —[Metternich (vol. ii, p. 346; see also French edition, vol. ii, p. 287) says, "Let us always keep the sword in one hand and the olive branch in the other; always ready to negotiate, but only negotiating while moving forward." Here is Napoleon’s system.]—







      He had always pretended a love for peace, though he was overjoyed at the
      idea of continuing a war so successfully commenced, and he directed
      General Giulay to assure the Emperor of Austria that he was not less
      anxious for peace than he, and that he was ready to treat for it, but
      without suspending the course of his operations. Bonaparte, indeed, could
      not, without a degree of imprudence of which he was incapable, consent to
      an armistice; for M. de Giulay, though entrusted with powers from Austria,
      had received none from Russia. Russia, therefore, might disavow the
      armistice and arrive in time to defend Vienna, the occupation of which was
      so important to the French army. The Russians, indeed, were advancing to
      oppose us, and the corps of our army, commanded by Mortier on the left
      bank of the Danube, experienced in the first engagement a check at
      Dirnstein, which not a little vexed the Emperor. This was the first
      reverse of fortune we had sustained throughout the campaign. It was
      trivial, to be sure, but the capture by the Russians of three French
      eagles, the first that had fallen into the hands of the enemy, was very
      mortifying to Napoleon, and caused him to prolong for some days his staff
      at St. Folten, where he then was.
    
He had always pretended to love peace, even though he was thrilled about continuing a war he had started so successfully. He instructed General Giulay to assure the Emperor of Austria that he was just as eager for peace as he was and that he was ready to negotiate, but without pausing his military operations. Bonaparte couldn't, without being reckless—which he was not—agree to a ceasefire. M. de Giulay, while empowered by Austria, had no authority from Russia. This meant that Russia could reject the ceasefire and possibly arrive in time to defend Vienna, which was crucial for the French army. The Russians were indeed advancing to confront us, and our army's division led by Mortier on the left bank of the Danube faced a setback in the first engagement at Dirnstein, which annoyed the Emperor. This was the first slight we had faced in the entire campaign. It was minor, but the Russians' capture of three French eagles—the first to be taken by the enemy—was very disheartening for Napoleon and led him to extend his stay at St. Folten for several days.







      The rapid occupation of Vienna was due to the successful temerity of
      Lannes and Murat, two men alike distinguished for courage and daring
      spirit. A bold artifice of these generals prevented the destruction of the
      Thabor bridge at Vienna, without which our army would have experienced
      considerable difficulty in penetrating into the Austrian capital. This act
      of courage and presence of mind, which had so great an influence on the
      events of the campaign, was described to me by Lannes, who told the story
      with an air of gaiety, unaccompanied by any self-complacency, and seemed
      rather pleased with the trick played upon the Austrians than proud of the
      brilliant action which had been performed. Bold enterprises were so
      natural to Lannes that he was frequently the only person who saw nothing
      extraordinary in his own exploits. Alas! what men were sacrificed to
      Napoleon's ambition!
    
The swift takeover of Vienna was due to the fearless boldness of Lannes and Murat, two men known for their courage and daring. A clever tactic from these generals saved the Thabor bridge at Vienna, without which our army would have faced major challenges entering the Austrian capital. This act of bravery and quick thinking, which greatly affected the campaign's outcome, was recounted to me by Lannes, who shared it with a sense of joy, without any arrogance, and seemed more amused by the trick played on the Austrians than proud of the remarkable feat that had been accomplished. Taking bold actions was so second nature to Lannes that he often was the only one who didn't see anything extraordinary in his own achievements. Alas! how many men were sacrificed for Napoleon's ambition!







      The following is the story of the Bridge of Thabor as I heard it from
      Lannes:—
    
The following is the story of the Bridge of Thabor as I heard it from Lannes:—






 —[I was one day walking with Murat, on the right bank of the
   Danube, and we observed on the left bank, which was occupied by the
   Austrians, some works going on, the evident object of which was to
   blow up the bridge on the approach of our troops. The fools had the
   impudence to make these preparations under our very noses; but we
   gave them a good lesson. Having arranged our plan, we returned to
   give orders, and I entrusted the command of my column of grenadiers
   to an officer on whose courage and intelligence I could rely. I
   then returned to the bridge, accompanied by Murat and two or three
   other officers. We advanced, unconcernedly, and entered into
   conversation with the commander of a post in the middle of the
   bridge. We spoke to him about an armistice which was to be speedily
   concluded: While conversing with the Austrian officers we contrived
   to make them turn their eyes towards the left bank, and then,
   agreeably to the orders we had given, my column of grenadiers
   advanced on the bridge. The Austrian cannoneers, on the left bank,
   seeing their officers in the midst of us, did not dare to fire, and
   my column advanced at a quick step. Murat and I, at the head of it,
   gained the left bank. All the combustibles prepared for blowing up
   the bridge were thrown into the river, and my men took possession of
   the batteries erected for the defence of the bridge head. The poor
   devils of Austrian officers were perfectly astounded when I told
   them they were my prisoners.]— 
—I was out walking with Murat one day on the right bank of the Danube, and we saw on the left bank, which the Austrians occupied, some work being done with the obvious goal of blowing up the bridge as our troops approached. They had the audacity to make these preparations right in front of us, but we taught them a good lesson. After we set our plan, we went back to give orders, and I put an officer I trusted for his bravery and smarts in charge of my column of grenadiers. Then I returned to the bridge with Murat and a couple of other officers. We approached casually and started chatting with the commander of a post in the middle of the bridge. We talked to him about an armistice that was going to be agreed upon soon. While we were talking to the Austrian officers, we managed to redirect their attention to the left bank, and then, according to our instructions, my column of grenadiers moved onto the bridge. The Austrian gunners on the left bank, seeing their officers in the middle of us, hesitated to fire, and my column quickened its pace. Murat and I led the way and reached the left bank. All the explosives meant for blowing up the bridge were thrown into the river, and my men took control of the defenses set up at the bridgehead. The poor Austrian officers were completely shocked when I informed them they were my prisoners.—







      Such, as well as I can recollect, was the account given by Lannes, who
      laughed immoderately in describing the consternation of the Austrian
      officers when they discovered the trick that had been played upon them.
      When Lannes performed this exploit he had little idea of the important
      consequences which would attend, it. He had not only secured to the
      remainder of the French army a sure and easy entrance to Vienna, but,
      without being aware of it, he created an insurmountable impediment to the
      junction of the Russian army with the Austrian corps, commanded by Prince
      Charles, who, being pressed by Massena, hastily advanced into the heart of
      the Hereditary States, where he fully expected a great battle would take
      place.
    
As far as I can remember, this was the account given by Lannes, who laughed uncontrollably while describing the shock of the Austrian officers when they realized the trick that had been played on them. When Lannes pulled off this stunt, he had no idea of the significant consequences that would follow. He not only guaranteed the rest of the French army a safe and easy path to Vienna, but, without realizing it, he also created an insurmountable barrier to the merging of the Russian army with the Austrian forces led by Prince Charles, who, being pressured by Massena, rushed into the heart of the Hereditary States, where he fully expected a major battle to occur.







      As soon as the corps of Murat and Lannes had taken possession of Vienna
      the Emperor ordered all the divisions of the army to march upon that
      capital.
    
As soon as Murat and Lannes' forces took control of Vienna, the Emperor commanded all divisions of the army to march toward that city.






 —[The story to told in much the same way in Theirs (tome vi, p.
   260), Rupp (p. 57), and Savory (tome ii. p. 162), but as Erreurs
   (tome i. p. 814) points out, Bourrienne makes an odd mistake in
   believing the Thabor Bridge gave the French access to Vienna. The
   capital is on the right bank, and was already in their power. The
   possession of the bridge enabled them to pass over to the left bank,
   and to advance towards Austerlitz before the Archduke Charles,
   coming from Italy, could make his junction with the allied army.
   See plan 48 of Thiers' Atlas, or 58 of Alison's. The immediate
   result of the success of this rather doubtful artifice would have
   been the destruction of the corps of Kutusoff; but Murat in his turn
   was deceived by Bagration into belief in an armistice. In fact,
   both sides at this time fell into curious errors.]— 
 —[The story is told similarly in Theirs (tome vi, p. 260), Rupp (p. 57), and Savory (tome ii. p. 162), but as Erreurs (tome i. p. 814) points out, Bourrienne makes a strange mistake in thinking that the Thabor Bridge gave the French access to Vienna. The capital is on the right bank and was already under their control. Owning the bridge allowed them to cross to the left bank and move toward Austerlitz before Archduke Charles, coming from Italy, could join the allied army. See plan 48 of Thiers' Atlas, or 58 of Alison's. The immediate result of this rather questionable tactic would have been the destruction of Kutusoff's corps; however, Murat was misled by Bagration into believing there was an armistice. In fact, both sides at this time made peculiar mistakes.]— 







      Napoleon established his headquarters at Schoenbrunn, where he planned his
      operations for compelling the corps of Prince Charles to retire to
      Hungary, and also for advancing his own forces to meet the Russians. Murat
      and Lannes always commanded the advanced guard during the forced marches
      ordered by Napoleon, which were executed in a way truly miraculous.
    
Napoleon set up his headquarters at Schoenbrunn, where he plotted his strategies to force Prince Charles's corps to withdraw to Hungary and to advance his own troops to confront the Russians. Murat and Lannes consistently led the vanguard during the forced marches mandated by Napoleon, which were carried out in an impressively efficient manner.







      To keep up the appearance of wishing to conclude peace as soon as
      reasonable propositions should be made to him, Napoleon sent for his
      Minister for foreign Affairs, who speedily arrived at Vienna, and General
      Savary was sent on a mission to the Emperor Alexander. The details of this
      mission I have learned only from the account of it given by the Duc de
      Rovigo in his apologetic Memoirs. In spite of the Duke's eagerness to
      induce a belief in Napoleon's pacific disposition, the very facts on which
      he supports his argument lead to the contrary conclusion. Napoleon wished
      to dictate his conditions before the issue of a battle the success of
      which might appear doubtful to the young Emperor of Russia, and these
      conditions were such as he might impose when victory should be declared in
      favour of our eagles. It must be clear to every reflecting person that by
      always proposing what he knew could not be honourably acceded to, he kept
      up the appearance of being a pacificator, while at the same time he
      ensured to himself the pleasure of carrying on the war.
    
To maintain the appearance of wanting to make peace as soon as reasonable proposals were presented to him, Napoleon summoned his Minister for Foreign Affairs, who quickly arrived in Vienna, and General Savary was sent on a mission to Emperor Alexander. I've only learned about the details of this mission from the account provided by the Duc de Rovigo in his apologetic Memoirs. Despite the Duke's eagerness to promote the idea that Napoleon was inclined toward peace, the very facts he uses to support his argument suggest the opposite. Napoleon wanted to set his terms before the outcome of a battle that might seem uncertain to the young Emperor of Russia, and these terms were those he could enforce once victory was declared in favor of our forces. It should be clear to any thoughtful person that by consistently proposing what he knew couldn't be honorably accepted, he maintained the facade of being a peacemaker while simultaneously ensuring he could continue the war.








 


 




















      CHAPTER III.
    



      1805.
    
1805.


   My functions at Hamburg—The King of Sweden at Stralsund—
   My bulletin describing the situation of the Russian armies—Duroc's
   recall from Berlin—General Dumouriez—Recruiting of the English in
   Hanover—The daughter of M. de Marbeof and Napoleon—Treachery of
   the King of Naples—The Sun of Austerlitz—Prince Dolgiorouki
   Rapp's account of the battle of Austerlitz—Gerard's picture—
   Eugène's marriage.

   My duties in Hamburg—The King of Sweden at Stralsund—My report on the status of the Russian armies—Duroc's recall from Berlin—General Dumouriez—Recruiting efforts by the English in Hanover—The daughter of M. de Marbeof and Napoleon—Betrayal by the King of Naples—The Sun of Austerlitz—Prince Dolgiorouki Rapp's description of the battle of Austerlitz—Gerard's painting—Eugène's marriage.







      I must now relate how, in conformity with my instructions, I was employed
      in Hamburg in aiding the success of the French army. I had sent an agent
      to observe the Russian troops, which were advancing by forced marches to
      the banks of the Elbe. This agent transmitted to me from Gadbusch an
      account of the routes taken by the different columns. It was then supposed
      that they would march upon Holland by the way of Bremen and Oldenburg. On
      the receipt of thus intelligence the Electorate of Hanover was evacuated
      by the French, and General Barbou, who had commanded there concentrated
      his forces in Hamelin.
    
I need to share how, following my instructions, I was involved in Hamburg to support the French army's efforts. I had sent an agent to keep an eye on the Russian troops that were marching quickly toward the Elbe River. This agent sent me a report from Gadbusch detailing the routes taken by the various columns. It was then believed that they would head toward Holland via Bremen and Oldenburg. Upon receiving this information, the French evacuated the Electorate of Hanover, and General Barbou, who had been in command there, gathered his forces in Hamelin.







      On the 2d of November 1805 the King of Sweden arrived at Stralsund. I
      immediately intimated to our Government that this circumstance would
      probably give a new turn to the operations of the combined army, for
      hitherto the uncertainty of its movements and the successive counter-
      orders afforded no possibility of ascertaining any determined plan. The
      intention seemed to be, that all the Swedo-Russian troops should cross the
      Elbe at the same point; viz., Lauenburg, six miles from Hamburg.
    
On November 2, 1805, the King of Sweden arrived in Stralsund. I quickly informed our Government that this development would likely change the course of action for the combined army, as the previous unpredictability of its movements and the ongoing counter-orders made it impossible to identify any concrete strategy. It appeared that all the Swedish-Russian troops were to cross the Elbe at the same point, which was Lauenburg, six miles from Hamburg.







      There was not on the 5th of November a single Russian on the southern bank
      of the Elbe.
    
There wasn't a single Russian on the southern bank of the Elbe on November 5th.







      The first column of the grand Russian army passed through Warsaw on the
      1st of November, and on the 2d the Grand-Duke Constantine was expected
      with the Guards. This column, which amounted to 6000 men, was the first
      that passed through Prussian Poland.
    
The first column of the great Russian army went through Warsaw on November 1st, and on the 2nd, Grand-Duke Constantine was expected with the Guards. This column, consisting of 6,000 men, was the first to move through Prussian Poland.







      At this time we momentarily expected to see the Hanoverian army landed on
      the banks of the Weser or the Elbe, augmented by some thousands of
      English. Their design apparently was either to attack Holland, or to
      attempt some operation on the rear of our Grand Army.
    
At that moment, we briefly anticipated the Hanoverian army landing on the banks of the Weser or the Elbe, reinforced by a few thousand English troops. Their plan seemed to be either to attack Holland or to carry out some operation against the rear of our Grand Army.







      The French Government was very anxious to receive accurate accounts of the
      march of the Swedo-Russian troops through Hanover, and of the Russian army
      through Poland. My agents at Warsaw and Stralsund, who were exceedingly
      active and intelligent, enabled me to send off a bulletin describing the
      state of Hanover, the movements of the Russians and Swedes, together with
      information of the arrival of English troops in the Elbe, and a statement
      of the force of the combined army in Hanover, which consisted of 15,000
      Russians, 8000 Swedes, and 12,000 English; making in all 35,000 men.
    
The French government was very eager to get accurate reports on the movement of the Swedish and Russian troops through Hanover, as well as the Russian army in Poland. My agents in Warsaw and Stralsund, who were extremely active and insightful, helped me send out a bulletin detailing the situation in Hanover, the movements of the Russians and Swedes, along with news of the arrival of English troops in the Elbe, and a report on the combined army's strength in Hanover, which included 15,000 Russians, 8,000 Swedes, and 12,000 English; totaling 35,000 soldiers.







      It was probably on account of this bulletin that Napoleon expressed to
      Duroc his satisfaction with my services. The Emperor on recalling Duroc
      from Berlin did not manifest the least apprehension respecting Prussia.
      Duroc wrote to me the following letter on the occasion of his recall:
    
It was likely because of this announcement that Napoleon told Duroc he was pleased with my work. When the Emperor brought Duroc back from Berlin, he showed no concern about Prussia. Duroc sent me this letter when he was called back:






   MY DEAR BOURRIENNE—The Emperor having thought my services necessary
   to the army has recalled me. I yesterday had a farewell audience of
   the King and Queen, who treated me very graciously. His Majesty
   presented me with his portrait set in diamonds. The Emperor
   Alexander will probably depart to morrow, and the Archduke Anthony
   vary speedily. We cannot but hope that their presence here will
   facilitate a good understanding.
                    (Signed) DUROC.

   MY DEAR BOURRIENNE—The Emperor has decided that my services are needed by the army, so he has called me back. Yesterday, I had a farewell meeting with the King and Queen, who were very kind to me. His Majesty gave me a portrait of himself set in diamonds. Emperor Alexander will likely leave tomorrow, and Archduke Anthony will follow soon after. We can only hope that their presence here will help create a good understanding.
                    (Signed) DUROC.







      Whenever foreign armies were opposing France the hopes of the emigrants
      revived. They falsely imagined that the powers coalesced against Napoleon
      were labouring in their cause; and many of them entered the Russian and
      Austrian armies. Of this number was General Dumouriez. I received
      information that he had landed at Stade on the 21st of November; but
      whither he intended to proceed was not known. A man named St. Martin,
      whose wife lived with Dumouriez, and who had accompanied the general from
      England to Stade, came to Hamburg, where he observed great precautions for
      concealment, and bought two carriages, which were immediately forwarded to
      Stade. St, Martin himself immediately proceeded to the latter place. I was
      blamed for not having arrested this man; but he had a commission attesting
      that he was in the English service, and, as I have before mentioned; a
      foreign commission was a safeguard; and the only one which could not be
      violated in Hamburg.
    
Whenever foreign armies were opposing France, the hopes of the emigrants were revived. They mistakenly believed that the powers united against Napoleon were working on their behalf, and many of them joined the Russian and Austrian armies. Among them was General Dumouriez. I received word that he had landed in Stade on November 21st; however, it was unclear where he planned to go next. A man named St. Martin, whose wife was with Dumouriez and who had traveled with the general from England to Stade, came to Hamburg, where he took great care to remain hidden and bought two carriages, which were immediately sent to Stade. St. Martin himself went straight to Stade. I faced criticism for not having arrested this man, but he had a commission proving that he was serving in the English military, and, as I mentioned earlier, a foreign commission served as protection; it was the only one that couldn’t be violated in Hamburg.







      In December 1805 the English recruiting in Hanover was kept up without
      interruption, and attended with extraordinary success. Sometimes a hundred
      men were raised in a day. The misery prevailing in Germany, which had been
      ravaged by the war, the hatred against the French, and the high bounty
      that was offered enabled the English to procure as many men as they
      wished.
    
In December 1805, English recruiting in Hanover continued without pause and was incredibly successful. At times, a hundred men were enlisted in a single day. The widespread suffering in Germany, which had been devastated by the war, the animosity towards the French, and the large bonuses being offered allowed the English to gather as many recruits as they wanted.







      The King of Sweden, meditating on the stir he should make in Hanover, took
      with him a camp printing-press to publish the bulletins of the grand
      Swedish army.—The first of these bulletins announced to Europe that
      his Swedish Majesty was about to leave Stralsund; and that his army would
      take up its position partly between Nelsen and Haarburg, and partly
      between Domitz and the frontiers of Hamburg.
    
The King of Sweden, thinking about the impact he should make in Hanover, brought along a camp printing press to publish updates for the grand Swedish army. The first of these updates informed Europe that his Swedish Majesty was about to leave Stralsund and that his army would position itself partly between Nelsen and Haarburg, and partly between Domitz and the borders of Hamburg.







      Among the anecdotes of Napoleon connected with this campaign I find in my
      notes the following, which was related to me by Rapp. Some days before his
      entrance into Vienna Napoleon, who was riding on horseback along the road,
      dressed in his usual uniform of the chasseurs of the Guard, met an open
      carriage, in which were seated a lady and a priest. The lady was in tears,
      and Napoleon could not refrain from stopping to ask her what was the cause
      of her distress. "Sir," she replied, for she did not know the Emperor, "I
      have been pillaged at my estate, two leagues from hence, by a party of
      soldiers, who have murdered my gardener. I am going to seek your Emperor,
      who knows my family, to whom he was once under great obligations."—"What
      is your name?" inquired Napoleon.—"De Bunny," replied the lady. "I
      am the daughter of M de Marbeuf, formerly Governor of Corsica."—"Madame,"
      exclaimed Napoleon, "I am the Emperor. I am delighted to have the
      opportunity of serving you."—"You cannot conceive," continued Rapp,
      "the attention which the Emperor showed Madame de Bunny. He consoled her,
      pitied her, almost apologised for the misfortune she had sustained. 'Will
      you have the goodness, Madame,' said he, 'to go and wait for me at my
      head-quarters? I will join you speedily; every member of M. de Marbeuf's
      family has a claim on my respect.' The Emperor immediately gave her a
      picquet of chasseurs of his guard to escort her. He saw her again during
      the day, when he loaded her with attentions, and liberally indemnified her
      for the losses she had sustained."
    
Among the stories of Napoleon related to this campaign, I have the following in my notes from Rapp. A few days before entering Vienna, Napoleon was riding along the road in his usual uniform as a chasseur of the Guard when he came across an open carriage with a lady and a priest inside. The lady was in tears, and Napoleon couldn't help but stop to ask what was troubling her. "Sir," she replied, not recognizing the Emperor, "I have been robbed at my estate, two leagues from here, by a group of soldiers who killed my gardener. I'm going to seek your Emperor, who knows my family and was once very indebted to them." — "What is your name?" Napoleon asked. — "De Bunny," the lady answered. "I am the daughter of M de Marbeuf, who used to be the Governor of Corsica." — "Madame," Napoleon exclaimed, "I am the Emperor. I'm glad to have the opportunity to help you." — "You can't imagine," Rapp continued, "the attention the Emperor showed Madame de Bunny. He consoled her, expressed sympathy, and almost apologized for what had happened to her. 'Would you kindly go and wait for me at my headquarters?' he said. 'I will join you shortly; every member of M. de Marbeuf's family deserves my respect.' The Emperor immediately assigned her a detachment of chasseurs from his guard to accompany her. He found her again later in the day, showering her with kindness and generously compensating her for her losses."







      For some time previous to the battle of Austerlitz the different corps of
      the army intersected every part of Germany and Italy, all tending towards
      Vienna as a central point. At the beginning of November the corps
      commanded by Marshal Bernadotte arrived at Saltzburg at the moment when
      the Emperor had advanced his headquarters to Braunau, where there were
      numerous magazines of artillery and a vast quantity of provisions of every
      kind. The junction of the corps commanded by Bernadotte in Hanover with
      the Grand Army was a point of such high importance that Bonaparte had
      directed the Marshal to come up with him as speedily as possible, and to
      take the shortest road. This order obliged Bernadotte to pass through the
      territory of the two Margravates.
    
For a while before the Battle of Austerlitz, the various corps of the army moved through all parts of Germany and Italy, all heading toward Vienna as their main point. At the start of November, the corps led by Marshal Bernadotte reached Salzburg just as the Emperor had moved his headquarters to Braunau, where there were plenty of artillery supplies and a large amount of provisions. The coordination of Bernadotte's corps in Hanover with the Grand Army was so crucial that Bonaparte instructed the Marshal to join him as quickly as possible and to take the shortest route. This directive required Bernadotte to pass through the territories of the two Margravates.







      At that time we were at peace with Naples. In September the Emperor had
      concluded with Ferdinand IV. a treaty of neutrality. This treaty enabled
      Carra St. Cyr, who occupied Naples, to evacuate that city and to join
      Massena in Upper Italy; both reached the Grand Army on the 28th of
      November. But no sooner had the troops commanded by Carra St. Cyr quitted
      the Neapolitan territory than the King of Naples, influenced by his
      Ministers, and above all by Queen Caroline, broke the treaty of
      neutrality, ordered hostile preparations against France, opened his ports
      to the enemies of the Emperor, and received into his States 12,000
      Russians and 8000 English. It was on the receipt of this news that
      Bonaparte, in one of his most violent bulletins, styled the Queen of
      Naples a second Fredegonda. The victory of Austerlitz having given
      powerful support to his threats, the fall of Naples was decided, and
      shortly after his brother Joseph was seated on the Neapolitan throne.
    
At that time, we were at peace with Naples. In September, the Emperor had signed a neutrality treaty with Ferdinand IV. This treaty allowed Carra St. Cyr, who controlled Naples, to leave the city and join Massena in Upper Italy; both men arrived with the Grand Army on November 28th. However, as soon as Carra St. Cyr's troops left Neapolitan territory, the King of Naples, swayed by his ministers and especially by Queen Caroline, broke the neutrality treaty, began hostile preparations against France, opened his ports to the Emperor's enemies, and welcomed 12,000 Russians and 8,000 English soldiers into his states. Upon receiving this news, Bonaparte, in one of his most furious bulletins, labeled the Queen of Naples as a second Fredegonda. After the victory at Austerlitz strengthened his threats, the downfall of Naples was decided, and shortly afterward, his brother Joseph took the Neapolitan throne.







      At length came the grand day when, to use Napoleon's expression, the Sun
      of Austerlitz rose. All our forces were concentrated on one point, at
      about 40 leagues beyond Vienna. There remained nothing but the wreck of
      the Austrian army, the corps of Prince Charles being by scientific
      manoeuvres kept at a distance from the line of operations; but the
      Russians alone were superior to us in numbers, and their army was almost
      entirely composed of fresh troops. The most extraordinary illusion
      prevailed in the enemy's camp. The north of Europe has its Gascons as well
      as the south of France, and the junior portion of the Russian army at this
      period assumed an absurd braggadocio tone. On the very eve of the battle
      the Emperor Alexander sent one of his aides de camp, Prince Dolgorouki, as
      a flag of truce to Napoleon. The Prince could not repress his
      self-sufficiency even in the presence of the Emperor, and Rapp informed me
      that on dismissing him the Emperor said, "If you were on 'the heights of
      Montmartre,' I would answer such impertinence only by cannon-balls." This
      observation was very remarkable, inasmuch as subsequent events rendered it
      a prophecy.
    
Finally, the big day arrived when, to quote Napoleon, the Sun of Austerlitz rose. All our forces were focused on one spot, about 40 leagues beyond Vienna. There was nothing left but the remnants of the Austrian army, with Prince Charles's corps kept far from the action through tactical maneuvers; however, the Russians outnumbered us, and their army was mostly made up of fresh troops. An extraordinary illusion gripped the enemy's camp. Just like the south of France has its Gascons, the north of Europe had its own. The junior members of the Russian army at this time were acting quite cocky. On the eve of the battle, Emperor Alexander sent one of his aides, Prince Dolgorouki, as a flag of truce to Napoleon. The Prince couldn't hide his arrogance even in front of the Emperor, and Rapp told me that after dismissing him, the Emperor remarked, "If you were on 'the heights of Montmartre,' I would respond to such impertinence only with cannonballs." This comment was quite significant, as future events turned it into a prophecy.







      As to the battle itself, I can describe it almost as well as if I had
      witnessed it, for some time after I had the pleasure of seeing my friend
      Rapp, who was sent an a mission to Prussia. He gave me the following
      account:
    
As for the battle itself, I can describe it nearly as if I had seen it firsthand, because not long after, I had the pleasure of meeting my friend Rapp, who was sent on a mission to Prussia. He gave me this account:






   "When we arrived at Austerlitz the Russians were not aware of the
   scientific plans which the Emperor had laid for drawing them upon
   the ground he had marked out; and seeing our advanced guards fall
   back before theirs they already considered themselves conquerors.
   They supposed that their Guard alone would secure an easy triumph.
   But the action commenced, and they experienced an energetic
   resistance on all points. At one o'clock the victory was yet
   uncertain, for they fought admirably. They wished to make a last
   effort by directing close masses against our centre. Their Imperial
   Guard deployed; their artillery, cavalry, and infantry marched upon
   a bridge which they attacked, and this movement, which was concealed
   by the rising and falling of the ground, was not observed by
   Napoleon. I was at that moment near the Emperor, awaiting his
   orders. We heard a well-maintained firing of musketry. The
   Russians were repulsing one of our brigades. The Emperor ordered me
   to take some of the Mamelukes, two squadrons of chasseurs, and one
   of grenadiers of the Guard, and to go and reconnoitre the state of
   things. I set off at full gallop, and soon discovered the disaster.
   The Russian cavalry had penetrated our squares, and was sabring our
   men. I perceived in the distance some masses of cavalry and
   infantry; which formed the reserve of the Russians. At that moment
   the enemy advanced to meet us, bringing with him four pieces of
   artillery, and ranged himself in order of battle. I had the brave
   Morland on my left, and General D'Allemagne on my right. 'Forward,
   my lads!' exclaimed I to my troop. 'See how your brothers and
   friends are being cut to pieces. Avenge them! avenge our flag!
   Forward!' These few words roused my men. We advanced as swiftly as
   our horses could carry us upon the artillery, which was taken. The
   enemy's cavalry, which awaited us firmly, was repulsed by the same
   shock, and fled in disorder, galloping as we did over the wrecks of
   our squares. The Russians rallied but a squadron of horse
   grenadiers came up to reinforce me, and thus enabled me to hold
   ground against the reserves of the Russian Guard. We charged again,
   and this charge was terrible. The brave Morland was killed by my
   side. It was downright butchery. We were opposed man to man, and
   were so mingled together that the infantry of neither one nor the
   other side could venture to fire for fear of killing its own men.
   At length the intrepidity of our troops overcame every obstacle, and
   the Russians fled in disorder, in sight of the two Emperors of
   Russia and Austria, who had stationed themselves on a height in
   order to witness the battle. They saw a desperate one," said Rapp,
   "and I trust they were satisfied. For my part, my dear friend, I
   never spent so glorious a day. What a reception the Emperor gave me
   when I returned to inform him that we had won the battle! My sword
   was broken, and a wound which I received on my head was bleeding
   copiously, so that I was covered with blood! He made me a General
   of Division. The Russians did not return to the charge; we had
   taken all their cannon and baggage, and Prince Repnin was among the
   prisoners."

   "When we got to Austerlitz, the Russians were unaware of the strategic plans the Emperor had set up to draw them into the area he had chosen. Seeing our advanced guards retreat before theirs, they already thought of themselves as victors. They believed their Guard alone would guarantee an easy win. But as the battle started, they faced strong resistance on all fronts. By one o'clock, victory was still uncertain because they fought valiantly. They aimed to make one last effort by sending large groups against our center. Their Imperial Guard spread out; their artillery, cavalry, and infantry marched toward a bridge they attacked, and this maneuver, hidden by the terrain, went unnoticed by Napoleon. At that moment, I was near the Emperor, waiting for his orders. We heard steady gunfire. The Russians were pushing back one of our brigades. The Emperor instructed me to take some Mamelukes, two squadrons of chasseurs, and one of grenadiers of the Guard, and to go check the situation. I took off at full gallop and quickly discovered the disaster. The Russian cavalry had breached our formations and was attacking our men. I saw in the distance some cavalry and infantry that made up the Russian reserves. At that moment, the enemy advanced toward us, bringing four pieces of artillery and getting into battle formation. I had the brave Morland on my left and General D'Allemagne on my right. 'Forward, my lads!' I shouted to my troops. 'Look how your brothers and friends are being slaughtered. Avenge them! Avenge our flag! Forward!' These few words energized my men. We charged as fast as our horses could go towards the artillery, which we captured. The enemy’s cavalry, waiting for us, was also pushed back by our assault and fled in chaos, racing over the remnants of our formations. The Russians regrouped, but a squadron of horse grenadiers arrived to reinforce me, allowing me to hold my position against the Russian Guard reserves. We charged again, and this attack was fierce. The brave Morland fell beside me. It was pure carnage. We fought one-on-one and were so entangled that neither side's infantry dared to fire for fear of hitting their own men. Finally, the courage of our troops overcame every hurdle, and the Russians fled in disarray, in front of the two Emperors of Russia and Austria, who had positioned themselves on a hill to watch the battle. They witnessed a fierce fight," said Rapp, "and I hope they were satisfied. For my part, my dear friend, I’ve never spent such a glorious day. What a welcome the Emperor gave me when I returned to tell him we had won the battle! My sword was broken, and a wound on my head was bleeding profusely, so I was covered in blood! He promoted me to General of Division. The Russians didn’t counterattack; we had taken all their cannons and supplies, and Prince Repnin was among the prisoners."







      Thus it was that Rapp related to me this famous battle of which he was the
      hero, as Kellerman had been the hero of Marengo. What now remains of
      Austerlitz? The recollection, the glory, and the magnificent picture of
      Gerard, the idea of which was suggested to the Emperor by the sight of
      Rapp with the blood streaming from his wound.
    
So, Rapp told me about this famous battle where he was the hero, just like Kellerman was the hero of Marengo. What’s left of Austerlitz now? The memories, the glory, and the incredible painting by Gerard, which the Emperor came up with after seeing Rapp with blood pouring from his wound.







      I cannot forbear relating here a few particulars which I learned from Rapp
      respecting his mission after the cure of his wound; and the marriage of
      Prince Eugène to the Princess Augusta of Bavaria. The friendship which
      Rapp cherished for me was of the most sincere kind. During my disgrace he
      did not even conceal it from Napoleon; and whoever knows anything of the
      Emperor's Court will acknowledge that that was a greater mark of courage
      than the carrying of a redoubt or making the most brilliant charge of
      cavalry. Rapp possessed courage of every kind, an excellent heart, and a
      downright frankness, which for a time brought him into disgrace with
      Napoleon. The only thing for which Rapp could be reproached was his
      extreme prejudice against the nobility, which I am convinced was the sole
      reason why he was not created a Duke. The Emperor made him a Count because
      he wished that all his aides de camp should have titles.
    
I can't help but share a few details I learned from Rapp about his mission after he healed from his wound, as well as the marriage of Prince Eugène to Princess Augusta of Bavaria. The friendship Rapp had for me was very genuine. Even during my downfall, he didn't hide it from Napoleon; and anyone who knows anything about the Emperor's court will agree that this required more courage than taking a redoubt or leading a brilliant cavalry charge. Rapp was brave in every way, had a great heart, and was refreshingly honest, which eventually got him into trouble with Napoleon. The only thing Rapp could be criticized for was his strong bias against the nobility, which I believe was the main reason he was never made a Duke. The Emperor made him a Count because he wanted all his aides-de-camp to have titles.






   "He had been a fortnight at Schoenbrunn," said Rapp to me, "and I had
   not yet resumed my duties, when the Emperor sent for me. He asked
   me whether I was able to travel, and on my replying in the
   affirmative, he said, 'Go then, and give an account of the battle of
   Austerlitz to Marmont, and vex him for not having been at it.' I set
   off, and in conformity with the instructions I had received from the
   Emperor I proceeded to Gratz, where I found Marmont, who was indeed
   deeply mortified at not having had a share in the great battle.
   I told him, as the Emperor had directed me, that the negotiations
   were commenced, but that nothing was yet concluded, and that
   therefore, at all events, he must hold himself in readiness. I
   ascertained the situation of his army in Styria, and the amount of
   the enemy's force before him: The Emperor wished him to send a
   number of spies into Hungary, and to transmit to him a detailed
   report from their communications. I next proceeded to Laybach,
   where I found Massena at the head of the eighth corps, and I
   informed him that the Emperor wished him to march in all haste upon
   Vienna, in case he should hear of the rupture of the negotiations.
   I continued the itinerary marked out for me until I reached Venice,
   and thence till I met the troops of Carra St. Cyr, who had received
   orders to march back upon Naples as soon as the Emperor heard of the
   treachery of the King of Naples and the landing of the English and
   Russians. Having fulfilled these different missions I proceeded to
   Klagenfurth, where I saw Marshal Ney, and I afterwards rejoined the
   Emperor at Munich. There I had the pleasure of finding our friends
   assembled, and among them Josephine, still as affable and amiable as
   ever. How delighted I was when, an my arrival, I learned that the
   Emperor had adopted Eugène. I was present at his marriage with the
   Princess Augusta of Bavaria. As to me, you know I am not very fond
   of fetes, and the Emperor might have dispensed with my performing
   the duties of Chamberlain; Eugène had no idea of what was going on
   when the Emperor sent to desire his presence at Munich with all
   possible speed. He, too, remains unchanged; he is still our old
   comrade. At first he was not much pleased with the idea of a
   political marriage; but when he saw his bride he was quite
   enchanted; and no wonder, for I assure you she is a very charming
   woman."

   "He had been at Schoenbrunn for two weeks," Rapp told me, "and I still hadn’t resumed my duties when the Emperor called for me. He asked if I was able to travel, and when I replied that I was, he said, 'Then go and report on the battle of Austerlitz to Marmont, and make sure to tease him for missing it.' I set off, and according to the Emperor's instructions, I traveled to Gratz, where I found Marmont, who was clearly upset about not having participated in the major battle. I conveyed to him, as the Emperor had directed, that negotiations had begun, but nothing was finalized yet, so he needed to be prepared. I checked on the status of his army in Styria and the size of the enemy forces in front of him. The Emperor wanted him to send several spies into Hungary and send him a detailed report based on what they found. Next, I went to Laybach, where I met Massena, who was leading the eighth corps, and informed him that the Emperor wanted him to march quickly to Vienna if he heard that the negotiations had broken down. I followed the planned route until I reached Venice, and then I met the troops of Carra St. Cyr, who had been ordered to head back to Naples as soon as the Emperor learned of the King of Naples’ betrayal and the landing of the English and Russians. After completing these various missions, I went to Klagenfurth, where I saw Marshal Ney, and later rejoined the Emperor in Munich. There, I was happy to find our friends gathered, including Josephine, who was just as friendly and charming as ever. I was so pleased to learn that upon my arrival, the Emperor had adopted Eugène. I attended his marriage to Princess Augusta of Bavaria. As for me, you know I'm not really into celebrations, and the Emperor could have let me skip my role as Chamberlain; Eugène had no idea what was happening when the Emperor requested his presence in Munich as quickly as possible. He too remains unchanged; he’s still our old friend. At first, he wasn’t thrilled about a political marriage, but when he saw his bride, he was completely taken; and no wonder, as I assure you she is a truly charming woman."








 


 




















      CHAPTER IV.
    



      1805.
    
1805.


   Depreciation of the Bank paper—Ouvrard—His great discretion—
   Bonaparte's opinion of the rich—Ouvrard's imprisonment—His
   partnership with the King of Spain—His connection with Waalenberghe
   and Desprez—Bonaparte's return to Paris after the campaign of
   Vienna—Hasty dismissal of M. Barbe Marbois.

   Depreciation of the banknotes—Ouvrard—His great discretion—Bonaparte's view of the wealthy—Ouvrard's imprisonment—His partnership with the King of Spain—His connection with Waalenberghe and Desprez—Bonaparte's return to Paris after the Vienna campaign—Hasty dismissal of M. Barbe Marbois.







      At the moment when the Emperor had reason to hope that the news of his
      extraordinary success would animate public spirit he was informed that
      considerable disquietude prevailed, and that the Bank of France was
      assailed by demands for the payment of its paper, which had fallen, more
      than 5 per cent. I was not ignorant of the cause of this decline. I had
      been made acquainted, through the commercial correspondence between
      Hamburg and Paris, with a great financial operation, planned by M.
      Ouvrard, in consequence of which he was to obtain piastres from Spanish
      America at a price much below the real value; and I had learned that he
      was obliged to support this enterprise by the funds which he and his
      partners previously employed in victualling the forces. A fresh investment
      of capital was therefore necessary for this service, which, when on a
      large scale, requires extensive advances, and the tardy payment of the
      Treasury at that period was well known.
    
At the moment when the Emperor thought that news of his remarkable success would boost public morale, he learned that there was significant unease, and the Bank of France was facing a wave of demands for payment of its notes, which had dropped more than 5 percent. I was aware of the reason for this decline. I had been informed, through the business correspondence between Hamburg and Paris, about a major financial operation planned by M. Ouvrard, through which he would acquire piastres from Spanish America at a price much lower than their actual value; and I found out that he needed to support this venture with the funds he and his partners had previously used to supply the forces. A new investment of capital was therefore essential for this operation, which, when conducted on a large scale, requires substantial upfront payments, and the slow payment from the Treasury at that time was well known.







      I was well acquainted with M. Ouvrard, and in what I am about to say I do
      not think there will be found anything offensive or disagreeable to him. I
      observed the greater number of the facts to which I shall refer in their
      origin, and the rest I learned from M. Ouvrard himself, who, when he
      visited Hamburg in 1808, communicated to me a variety of details
      respecting his immense transaction with the King of Spain. Among other
      things I recollect he told me that before the 18th Brumaire he was
      possessed of 60,000,000, without owing a franc to any person.
    
I was quite familiar with M. Ouvrard, and I don’t think what I’m about to say will be offensive or disagreeable to him. I observed most of the facts I'll mention from their origins, and the rest I learned directly from M. Ouvrard himself, who, when he visited Hamburg in 1808, shared a variety of details about his huge deal with the King of Spain. I remember he mentioned that before the 18th Brumaire, he had 60,000,000, without owing a single franc to anyone.







      This celebrated financier has been the object of great public attention.
      The prodigious variations of fortune which he has experienced, the
      activity of his life, the immense commercial operations in which he has
      been engaged; the extent and the boldness of his enterprises, render it
      necessary, in forming a judgment of M. Ouvrard, to examine his conduct
      with due care and deliberation. The son of a stationer, who was able
      merely through his own resources to play so remarkable a part, could be no
      ordinary man. It may be said of M. Ouvrard what Beaumarchais said of
      himself, that his life was really a combat. I have known him long, and I
      saw much of him in his relations with Josephine. He always appeared to me
      to possess great knowledge of the world, accompanied by honourable
      principles, and a high degree of generosity, which added greatly to the
      value of his prudence and discretion. No human power, no consideration,
      not even the ingratitude of those whom he had obliged, could induce him to
      disclose any sacrifice which he had made at the time when, under the
      Directory, the public revenue may be said to have been always at the
      disposal of the highest bidder, and when no business could be brought to a
      conclusion except by him who set about it with his hands full of money. To
      this security, with which M. Ouvrard impressed all official persons who
      rendered him services, I attribute the facility with which he obtained the
      direction of the numerous enterprises in which he engaged, and which
      produced so many changes in his fortune. The discretion of M. Ouvrard was
      not quite agreeable to the First Consul, who found it impossible to
      extract from him the information he wanted. He tried every method to
      obtain from him the names of persons to whom he had given those kind of
      subsidies which in vulgar language are called sops in the pan, and by
      ladies pin money. Often have I seen Bonaparte resort to every possible
      contrivance to gain his object. He would sometimes endeavour to alarm M.
      Ouvrard by menaces, and at other times to flatter him by promises, but he
      was in no instance successful.
    
This well-known financier has drawn a lot of public attention. The huge ups and downs he has faced, the active life he's led, and the massive business dealings he's been involved in make it essential to carefully evaluate M. Ouvrard's actions. The son of a stationer who managed to play such a remarkable role purely by his own efforts could not be an average person. One could say of M. Ouvrard what Beaumarchais said about himself: that his life was truly a struggle. I have known him for a long time and witnessed a lot of his interactions with Josephine. He always struck me as someone with great worldly knowledge, backed by honorable principles and a significant level of generosity, which enhanced the value of his prudence and discretion. No amount of power, no consideration, not even the ingratitude of those he had helped, could make him reveal any sacrifices he made at the time when, under the Directory, public funds seemed to be at the mercy of the highest bidder, and no business could wrap up unless someone approached it with a lot of cash. I believe the confidence M. Ouvrard inspired in all the officials who assisted him contributed to how easily he directed the many ventures he undertook, which caused so many shifts in his fortune. M. Ouvrard's discretion didn't sit quite well with the First Consul, who found it impossible to get the information he wanted out of him. He tried all sorts of methods to obtain the names of those to whom he had given the kind of subsidies often casually referred to as bribes or pin money. I often saw Bonaparte resort to every possible trick to achieve his goal. Sometimes he would try to intimidate M. Ouvrard with threats, and at other times he would attempt to flatter him with promises, but he was never successful.







      While we were at the Luxembourg, on, as I recollect, the 25th of January
      1800, Bonaparte said to me during breakfast, "Bourrienne, my resolution is
      taken. I shall have Ouvrard arrested."—"General, have you proofs
      against him?"—"Proofs, indeed! He is a money-dealer, a monopoliser;
      we must make him disgorge. All the contractors, the provision agents, are
      rogues. How have they made their fortunes? At the expense of the country,
      to be sure. I will not suffer such doings. They possess millions, they
      roll in an insolent luxury, while my soldiers have neither bread nor
      shoes! I will have no more of that! I intend to speak on the business
      to-day in the Council, and we shall see what can be done."
    
While we were at the Luxembourg, on what I believe was January 25, 1800, Bonaparte said to me during breakfast, "Bourrienne, I've made my decision. I'm going to have Ouvrard arrested."—"General, do you have evidence against him?"—"Evidence, of course! He’s a money dealer, a monopolist; we need to make him pay up. All the contractors, the supply agents, are crooks. How did they get rich? At the country's expense, obviously. I won’t tolerate this anymore. They have millions; they live in outrageous luxury, while my soldiers have neither bread nor shoes! I'm done with that! I plan to discuss this today at the Council, and we’ll see what we can do."







      I waited with impatience for his return from the Council to know what had
      passed. "Well, General?" said I "The order is given." On hearing this I
      became anxious about the fate of M. Ouvrard, who was thus to be treated
      more like a subject of the Grand Turk than a citizen of the Republic; but
      I soon learned that the order had not been executed because he could not
      be found.
    
I waited anxiously for him to come back from the Council to find out what had happened. "So, General?" I asked. "The order has been given." Hearing this made me worried about what would happen to M. Ouvrard, who was going to be treated more like a subject of the Grand Turk than a citizen of the Republic; but I soon found out that the order hadn’t been carried out because he couldn’t be found.







      Next day I learned that a person, whom I shall not name, who was present
      at the Council, and who probably was under obligations to Ouvrard, wrote
      him a note in pencil to inform him of the vote for his arrest carried by
      the First Consul. This individual stepped out for a moment and despatched
      his servant with the note to Ouvrard. Having thus escaped the writ of
      arrest, Ouvrard, after a few days had passed over, reappeared, and
      surrendered himself prisoner. Bonaparte was at first furious on learning
      that he had got out of the way; but on hearing that Ouvrard had
      surrendered himself he said to me, "The fool! he does not know what is
      awaiting him! He wishes to make the public believe that he has nothing to
      fear; that his hands are clean. But he is playing a bad game; he will gain
      nothing in that way with me. All talking is nonsense. You may be sure,
      Bourrienne, that when a man has so much money he cannot have got it
      honestly, and then all those fellows are dangerous with their fortunes. In
      times of revolution no man ought to have more than 3,000,000 francs, and
      that is a great deal too much."
    
The next day I found out that a person, whose name I won't mention, was at the Council and probably owed Ouvrard a favor. This person quickly wrote him a note in pencil to let him know about the vote to arrest him passed by the First Consul. He stepped out for a moment and sent his servant with the note to Ouvrard. Having escaped the arrest warrant, Ouvrard eventually returned and surrendered himself as a prisoner. Bonaparte was initially furious to learn that Ouvrard had managed to evade capture, but when he found out Ouvrard had turned himself in, he said to me, "The fool! He doesn’t realize what’s in store for him! He wants the public to believe he has nothing to fear; that he's innocent. But he’s playing a dangerous game; he won't gain anything like that with me. All this talk is nonsense. You can be sure, Bourrienne, that when a man has so much money, it can't have come from honest means, and all those guys with their fortunes are a threat. During a revolution, no one should have more than 3,000,000 francs, and that’s already far too much."







      Before going to prison Ouvrard took care to secure against all the
      searches of the police any of his papers which might have committed
      persons with whom he had dealings; and I believe that there were
      individuals connected with the police itself who had good reason for not
      regretting the opportunity which M. Ouvrard had taken for exercising this
      precaution. Seals, however, were put upon his papers; but on examining
      them none of the information Bonaparte so much desired to obtain was
      found. Nevertheless on one point his curiosity was satisfied, for on
      looking over the documents he found from some of them that Madame
      Bonaparte had been borrowing money from Ouvrard.
    
Before going to prison, Ouvrard made sure to protect any of his papers that could implicate people he had dealings with, especially from police searches. I believe some individuals in the police had good reason to appreciate the precaution Ouvrard took. His papers were sealed, but when examined, none of the information Bonaparte desperately wanted was found. However, his curiosity was satisfied on one point: while reviewing the documents, he discovered that Madame Bonaparte had been borrowing money from Ouvrard.







      As Ouvrard had a great number of friends they bestirred themselves to get
      some person of influence to speak to the First Consul in his favour. But
      this was a commission no one was willing to undertake; because, prejudiced
      as Bonaparte was, the least hint of the kind would have appeared to him to
      be dictated by private interest. Berthier was very earnestly urged to
      interfere, but he replied, "That is impossible. He would say that it was
      underhand work to get money for Madame Visconti."
    
As Ouvrard had a lot of friends, they pushed themselves to find someone influential to talk to the First Consul on his behalf. However, no one wanted to take on that task because, given Bonaparte's biases, even the slightest suggestion would seem to him like it was motivated by personal gain. Berthier was strongly urged to step in, but he replied, "That's not possible. He would think it was a shady scheme to get money for Madame Visconti."







      I do not recollect to what circumstance Ouvrard was indebted for his
      liberty, but it is certain that his captivity did not last long. Sometime
      after he had left his prison Bonaparte asked him for 12,000,000, which M.
      Ouvrard refused.
    
I don't remember what caused Ouvrard to be released, but it’s clear his imprisonment didn't last long. Not long after he got out of prison, Bonaparte asked him for 12,000,000, which Mr. Ouvrard turned down.







      On his accession to the Consulate Bonaparte found M. Ouvrard contractor
      for supplying the Spanish fleet under the command of Admiral Massaredo.
      This business introduced him to a correspondence with the famous Godoy,
      Prince of the Peace. The contract lasted three years, and M. Ouvrard
      gained by it a net profit of 15,000,000. The money was payable in
      piastres, at the rate of 3 francs and some centimes each, though the
      piastre was really worth 5 francs 40 centimes. But to recover it at this
      value it was necessary for M. Ouvrard to go and get the money in Mexico.
      This he was much inclined to do, but he apprehended some obstacle on the
      part of the First Consul, and, notwithstanding his habitual shrewdness, he
      became the victim of his over-precaution. On his application M. de
      Talleyrand undertook to ask the First Consul for authority to give him a
      passport. I was in the cabinet at the time, and I think I still hear the
      dry and decided "No," which was all the answer M. de Talleyrand obtained.
      When we were alone the First Consul said to me, "Do you not see,
      Bourrienne, this Ouvrard must have made a good thing of his business with
      the Prince of the Peace? But the fool! Why did he get Talleyrand to ask me
      for a passport? That is the very thing that raised my suspicion. Why did
      he not apply for a passport as every one else does? Have I the giving of
      them? He is an ass; so much the worse for him."
    
When Bonaparte became Consul, he discovered that M. Ouvrard was the contractor supplying the Spanish fleet under Admiral Massaredo’s command. This connection led him to correspond with the well-known Godoy, Prince of the Peace. The contract lasted three years, during which M. Ouvrard made a net profit of 15,000,000. The payment was in piastres, priced at 3 francs and some cents each, even though the actual value of the piastre was 5 francs and 40 cents. However, to collect this amount at true value, M. Ouvrard would have to go to Mexico. He was keen to do this but feared potential issues with the First Consul, and despite his usual cleverness, he fell victim to his own excessive caution. Upon his request, M. de Talleyrand agreed to ask the First Consul for permission to give him a passport. I was in the room at the time, and I can still recall the curt and firm "No," which was all M. de Talleyrand got in response. Once we were alone, the First Consul said to me, "Don’t you see, Bourrienne, this Ouvrard must have profited nicely from his dealings with the Prince of the Peace? But what a fool! Why did he ask Talleyrand to get me a passport? That's what raised my suspicion. Why didn’t he just apply for a passport like everyone else? Am I the one who issues them? He's an idiot; too bad for him."







      I was sorry for Ouvrard's disappointment, and I own none the less so
      because he had intimated his willingness to give me a share in the
      business he was to transact its Spain; and which was likely to be very
      profitable. His brother went to Mexico in his stead.
    
I felt bad about Ouvrard's disappointment, especially since he had hinted that he was willing to give me a share in the business he was going to do in Spain, which was likely to be very profitable. His brother went to Mexico in his place.







      In 1802 a dreadful scarcity afflicted France. M. Ouvrard took upon
      himself, in concert with Wanlerberghe, the task of importing foreign grain
      to prevent the troubles which might otherwise have been expected. In
      payment of the grain the foreign houses who sent it drew upon Ouvrard and
      Wanlerberghe for 26,000,000 francs in Treasury bills, which, according to
      the agreement with the Government, were to be paid. But when the bills of
      the foreign houses became due there was no money in the Treasury, and
      payment was refused. After six months had elapsed payment was offered, but
      on condition that the Government should retain half the profit of the
      commission! This Ouvrard and Wanlerberghe refused, upon which the Treasury
      thought it most economical to pay nothing, and the debt remained
      unsettled. Notwithstanding this transaction Ouvrard and Wanlerberghe
      engaged to victual the navy, which they supplied for six years and three
      months. After the completion of these different services the debt due to
      them amounted to 68,000,000.
    
In 1802, France faced a terrible shortage. M. Ouvrard, along with Wanlerberghe, took on the responsibility of importing foreign grain to avoid the issues that might have arisen otherwise. In payment for the grain, the foreign companies that shipped it drew 26,000,000 francs in Treasury bills from Ouvrard and Wanlerberghe, which were supposed to be paid according to the agreement with the Government. However, when the foreign companies' bills came due, the Treasury had no money and refused to pay. After six months, payment was offered, but only if the Government kept half of the commission's profit! Ouvrard and Wanlerberghe turned down this offer, leading the Treasury to decide it was better to pay nothing, leaving the debt unresolved. Despite this situation, Ouvrard and Wanlerberghe agreed to supply provisions for the navy, which they did for six years and three months. After completing these various services, the debt owed to them totaled 68,000,000.







      In consequence of the long delay of, payment by the Treasury the
      disbursements for supplies of grain amounted at least to more than
      40,000,000; and the difficulties which arose had a serious effect on the
      credit of the principal dealers with those persons who supplied them. The
      discredit spread and gradually reached the Treasury, the embarrassments of
      which augmented with the general alarm. Ouvrard, Wanlerberghe, and Seguin
      were the persons whose capital and credit rendered them most capable of
      relieving the Treasury, and they agreed to advance for that purpose
      102,000,000, in return for which they were allowed bonds of the
      Receivers-General to the amount of 150,000,000. M. Desprez undertook to be
      the medium through which the 102,000,000 were to be paid into the
      Treasury, and the three partners transferred the bands to him.
    
Due to the long delay in payment by the Treasury, the expenses for grain supplies reached over 40,000,000. The resulting difficulties seriously impacted the credit of the main suppliers with those who provided them goods. This loss of credit spread and gradually affected the Treasury, whose challenges increased alongside the growing public panic. Ouvrard, Wanlerberghe, and Seguin were the individuals whose resources and credit made them most capable of assisting the Treasury, and they agreed to advance 102,000,000, in exchange for which they received bonds from the Receivers-General worth 150,000,000. M. Desprez took on the role of facilitator for transferring the 102,000,000 into the Treasury, while the three partners handed the bonds over to him.







      Spain had concluded a treaty with France, by which she was bound to pay a
      subsidy of 72,000,000 francs, and 32,000,000 had become due without any
      payment being made: It was thought advisable that Ouvrard should be sent
      to Madrid to obtain a settlement, but he was afraid that his business in
      Paris would suffer during his absence, and especially the transaction in
      which he was engaged with Desprez. The Treasury satisfied him on this
      point by agreeing to sanction the bargain with Desprez, and Ouvrard
      proceeded to Madrid. It was on this occasion he entered into the immense
      speculation for trading with Spanish America.
    
Spain had signed a treaty with France, which obligated her to pay a subsidy of 72,000,000 francs, with 32,000,000 already overdue without any payment made. It was decided that Ouvrard should go to Madrid to secure a settlement, but he was concerned that his business in Paris would suffer during his absence, particularly the deal he was working on with Desprez. The Treasury reassured him by agreeing to approve the transaction with Desprez, and Ouvrard then headed to Madrid. It was during this trip that he got involved in the huge speculation for trading with Spanish America.







      Spain wished to pay the 32,000,000 which were due to France as soon as
      possible, but her coffers were empty, and goodwill does not ensure
      ability; besides, in addition to the distress of the Government, there was
      a dreadful famine in Spain. In this state of things Ouvrard proposed to
      the Spanish Government to pay the debt due to France, to import a supply
      of corn, and to advance funds for the relief of the Spanish Treasury. For
      this he required two conditions. (1.) The exclusive right of trading with
      America. (2.) The right of bringing from America on his own account all
      the specie belonging to the Crown, with the power of making loans
      guaranteed and payable by the Spanish Treasuries.
    
Spain wanted to pay the 32,000,000 owed to France as soon as possible, but the treasury was empty, and good intentions don’t guarantee capability; moreover, the Government was struggling amid a terrible famine in Spain. In light of this situation, Ouvrard suggested to the Spanish Government that he could pay the debt to France, import a supply of corn, and provide funds to help the Spanish Treasury. For this, he required two conditions: (1.) The exclusive right to trade with America. (2.) The right to bring back to Spain all the Crown’s gold and silver from America on his own account, with the ability to make loans backed by the Spanish Treasuries.







      About the end of July 1805 the embarrassment which sometime before had
      begun to be felt in the finances of Europe was alarmingly augmented. Under
      these circumstances it was obviously the interest of Ouvrard to procure
      payment as soon as possible of the 32,000,000 which he had advanced for
      Spain to the French Treasury. He therefore redoubled his efforts to bring
      his negotiation to a favourable issue, and at last succeeded in getting a
      deed of partnership between himself and Charles IV. which contained the
      following stipulation:—"Ouvrard and Company are authorised to
      introduce into the ports of the New World every kind of merchandise and
      production necessary for the consumption of those countries, and to export
      from the Spanish Colonies, during the continuance of the war with England;
      all the productions and all specie derivable from them." This treaty was
      only to be in force during the war with England, and it was stipulated
      that the profits arising from the transactions of the Company should be
      equally divided between Charles IV. and the rest of the Company; that is
      to say, one-half to the King and the other half to his partners.
    
Around the end of July 1805, the financial issues that had started to surface in Europe became increasingly serious. Given this situation, Ouvrard had a strong incentive to secure the repayment of the 32,000,000 he had advanced to the French Treasury for Spain as soon as possible. He intensified his efforts to finalize his negotiations and eventually managed to obtain a partnership agreement with Charles IV that included the following terms: “Ouvrard and Company are authorized to bring any type of goods and products needed for consumption in the New World into its ports, and to export all goods and any money obtained from them from the Spanish Colonies during the ongoing war with England.” This agreement was set to remain in effect only during the war with England, and it stated that the profits from the Company’s dealings would be split equally between Charles IV and the other partners; in other words, half would go to the King, and the other half would go to his partners.







      The consequences of this extraordinary partnership between a King and a
      private individual remain to be stated. On the signing of the deed Ouvrard
      received drafts from the Treasury of Madrid to the extent of 52,500,000
      piastres; making 262,500,000 francs; but the piastres were to be brought
      from America, while the terms of the treaty required that the urgent wants
      of the Spanish Government should be immediately supplied, and, above all,
      the progress of the famine checked. To accomplish this object fresh
      advances to an enormous amount were necessary, for M. Ouvrard had to begin
      by furnishing 2,000,000 of quintals of grain at the rate of 26 francs the
      quintal. Besides all this, before he could realise a profit and be
      reimbursed for the advances he had made to the Treasury of Paris, he had
      to get the piastres conveyed from America to Europe. After some difficulty
      the English Government consented to facilitate the execution of the
      transaction by furnishing four frigates for the conveyance of the
      piastres.
    
The outcomes of this unique partnership between a king and a private individual are yet to be outlined. Upon signing the agreement, Ouvrard received drafts from the Madrid Treasury amounting to 52,500,000 piastres, which equals 262,500,000 francs. However, the piastres needed to be shipped from America, while the treaty terms required that the immediate needs of the Spanish Government be met right away, especially to combat the ongoing famine. To achieve this, significant additional funding was essential. M. Ouvrard first had to supply 2,000,000 quintals of grain at 26 francs per quintal. Moreover, before he could make a profit and get reimbursed for the advances he had made to the Paris Treasury, he needed to have the piastres transported from America to Europe. After some challenges, the English Government agreed to help carry out the transaction by providing four frigates to transport the piastres.







      Ouvrard had scarcely completed the outline of his extraordinary enterprise
      when the Emperor suddenly broke up his camp at Boulogne to march to
      Germany. It will readily be conceived that Ouvrard's interests then
      imperatively required his presence at Madrid; but he was recalled to Paris
      by the Minister of the Treasury, who wished to adjust his accounts. The
      Emperor wanted money for the war on which he was entering, and to procure
      it for the Treasury Ouvrard was sent to Amsterdam to negotiate with the
      House of Hope. He succeeded, and Mr. David Parish became the Company's
      agent.
    
Ouvrard had just finished outlining his impressive project when the Emperor unexpectedly dismantled his camp at Boulogne and headed to Germany. It's easy to understand that Ouvrard's interests then urgently needed him in Madrid; however, he was called back to Paris by the Minister of the Treasury, who wanted to settle his accounts. The Emperor needed funds for the upcoming war, and to secure them for the Treasury, Ouvrard was sent to Amsterdam to negotiate with the House of Hope. He succeeded, and Mr. David Parish became the Company’s agent.







      Having concluded this business Ouvrard returned in all haste to Madrid;
      but in the midst of the most flattering hopes and most gigantic
      enterprises he suddenly found himself threatened with a dreadful crisis.
      M. Desprez, as has been stated, had, with the concurrence of the Treasury,
      been allowed to take upon himself all the risk of executing the treaty, by
      which 150,000,000 were to be advanced for the year 1804, and 400,000,000
      for the year 1805. Under the circumstances which had arisen the Minister
      of the Treasury considered himself entitled to call upon Ouvrard to place
      at his disposal 10,000,000 of the piastres which he had received from
      Spain. The Minister at the same time informed him that he had made
      arrangements on the faith of this advance, which he thought could not be
      refused at so urgent a moment.
    
After finishing this business, Ouvrard rushed back to Madrid; however, just as he was filled with optimism and ambitious plans, he suddenly faced a serious crisis. M. Desprez, as mentioned before, had been given permission, with the Treasury's agreement, to take on all the risk of executing the treaty, which involved advancing 150,000,000 for the year 1804 and 400,000,000 for the year 1805. Given the situation that had arisen, the Minister of the Treasury believed he had the right to ask Ouvrard to provide 10,000,000 of the piastres he had received from Spain. At the same time, the Minister informed him that he had made arrangements based on this advance, which he felt could not be denied at such a critical moment.







      The embarrassment of the Treasury, and the well-known integrity of the
      Minister, M. de Barbe Marbois, induced Ouvrard to remit the 10,000,000
      piastres. But a few days after he had forwarded the money a Commissioner
      of the Treasury arrived at Madrid with a ministerial despatch, in which
      Ouvrard was requested to deliver to the Commissioner all the assets he
      could command, and to return immediately to Paris.
    
The embarrassment of the Treasury and the well-known integrity of the Minister, M. de Barbe Marbois, led Ouvrard to send the 10,000,000 piastres. However, just a few days after he sent the money, a Treasury Commissioner arrived in Madrid with a government message asking Ouvrard to hand over all the assets he could access and to return to Paris right away.







      The Treasury was then in the greatest difficulty, and a general alarm
      prevailed. This serious financial distress was occasioned by the following
      circumstances. The Treasury had, by a circular, notified to the
      Receivers-General that Desprez was the holder of their bonds. They were
      also authorised to transmit to him all their disposable funds, to be
      placed to their credit in an account current. Perhaps the giving of this
      authority was a great error; but, be that as it may, Desprez, encouraged
      by the complaisance of the Treasury, desired the Receivers-General to
      transmit to him all the sums they could procure for payment of interest
      under 8 per cent., promising to allow them a higher rate of interest. As
      the credit of the house of Desprez stood high, it may be easily conceived
      that on such conditions the Receivers-General, who were besides secured by
      the authority of the Treasury, would enter eagerly into the proposed plan.
      In short, the Receivers-General soon transmitted very considerable sums.
      Chests of money arrived daily from every point of France. Intoxicated by
      this success, Desprez engaged in speculations which in his situation were
      extremely imprudent. He lent more than 50,000,000 to the merchants of
      Paris, which left him no command of specie. Being obliged to raise money,
      he deposited with the Bank the bonds of the Receivers-General which had
      been consigned to him, but which were already discharged by the sums
      transmitted to their credit in the account current. The Bank, wishing to
      be reimbursed for the money advanced to Desprez, applied to the
      Receivers-General whose bonds were held an security. This proceeding had
      become necessary on the part of the Bank, as Desprez, instead of making
      his payments in specie, sent in his acceptances. The Directors of the
      Bank, who conducted that establishment with great integrity and
      discretion, began to be alarmed, and required Desprez to explain the state
      of his affairs. The suspicions of the Directors became daily stronger, and
      were soon shared by the public. At last the Bank was obliged to stop
      payment, and its notes were soon at a discount of 12 per cent.
    
The Treasury was facing serious difficulties, and there was widespread panic. This financial crisis was caused by a few key factors. The Treasury had informed the Receivers-General through a circular that Desprez was the holder of their bonds. They were also authorized to send him all their available funds, which would be credited to their current account. This decision may have been a major mistake; regardless, Desprez, bolstered by the Treasury's support, asked the Receivers-General to forward him all the money they could gather for interest payments above 8 percent, promising them a better interest rate. Given the strong reputation of Desprez's firm, it's easy to understand why the Receivers-General, backed by the Treasury's authority, eagerly embraced the proposal. Soon enough, they forwarded substantial sums. Chests of money arrived daily from all over France. Fueled by this success, Desprez made risky investments that were highly unwise given his situation. He loaned over 50,000,000 to Parisian merchants, which left him short on cash. Needing to raise funds, he deposited the Receivers-General's bonds, which had already been paid off with the funds that had been credited to them. The Bank, looking to recover the money it had lent to Desprez, turned to the Receivers-General since their bonds were being used as collateral. This action was necessary for the Bank because Desprez, instead of paying in cash, submitted his promissory notes. The Bank's Directors, who managed the institution with great integrity and caution, were becoming increasingly worried and demanded that Desprez clarify his financial situation. Their suspicions grew stronger each day and soon were shared by the public. Ultimately, the Bank had to halt payments, and its notes quickly fell to a 12 percent discount.







      The Minister of the Treasury, dismayed, as well may be supposed, at such a
      state of things during the Emperor's absence, convoked a Council, at which
      Joseph Bonaparte presided, and to which Desprez and Wanlerberghe were
      summoned. Ouvrard being informed of this financial convulsion made all
      possible haste from Madrid, and on his arrival at Paris sought assistance
      from Amsterdam. Hope's house offered to take 15,000,000 piastres at the
      rate of 3 francs 75 centimes each. Ouvrard having engaged to pay the
      Spanish Government only 3 francs, would very willingly have parted with
      them at that rate, but his hasty departure from Madrid, and the financial
      events at Paris, affected his relations with the Spanish Treasury, and
      rendered it impossible for him to afford any support to the Treasury of
      France; thus the alarm continued, until the news of the battle of
      Austerlitz and the consequent hope of peace tranquillised the public mind.
      The bankruptcy of Desprez was dreadful; it was followed by the failure of
      many houses, the credit of which was previously undoubted.
    
The Minister of the Treasury, understandably upset by the situation during the Emperor's absence, called a Council, which Joseph Bonaparte led, and to which Desprez and Wanlerberghe were invited. Hearing about this financial crisis, Ouvrard hurried back from Madrid, and upon arriving in Paris, sought help from Amsterdam. Hope's firm agreed to buy 15,000,000 piastres at 3 francs 75 centimes each. Ouvrard, who promised to pay the Spanish Government only 3 francs, would have gladly sold them at that price, but his rushed departure from Madrid and the financial turmoil in Paris complicated his dealings with the Spanish Treasury, making it impossible for him to provide any support to the French Treasury. The anxiety continued until news of the battle of Austerlitz and the resulting hope for peace calmed the public. Desprez's bankruptcy was shocking; it led to the collapse of many firms that had previously been considered reliable.







      To temper the exultation which victory was calculated to excite, the news
      of the desperate situation of the Treasury and the Bank reached the
      Emperor on the day after the battle of Austerlitz. The alarming accounts
      which he received hastened his return to France; and on the very evening
      on which he arrived in Paris he pronounced, while ascending the stairs of
      the Tuileries, the dismissal of M. de Barbs Marbois. This Minister had
      made numerous enemies by the strict discharge of his duty, and yet,
      notwithstanding his rigid probity, he sunk under the accusation of having
      endangered the safety of the State by weakness of character. At this
      period even Madame de Stael said, in a party where the firmness of M.
      Barbs Marbois was the topic of conversation—"What, he inflexible? He
      is only a reed bronzed!" But whatever may be the opinion entertained of
      the character of this Minister, it is certain that Napoleon's rage against
      him was unbounded. Such was the financial catastrophe which occurred
      during the campaign of Vienna; but all was not over with Ouvrard, and in
      so great a confusion of affairs it was not to be expected that the
      Imperial hand, which was not always the hand of justice, should not make
      itself somewhere felt.
    
To temper the excitement that victory was supposed to bring, the news of the dire situation of the Treasury and the Bank reached the Emperor the day after the battle of Austerlitz. The alarming reports he received hastened his return to France; and on the very evening he arrived in Paris, as he climbed the stairs of the Tuileries, he announced the dismissal of M. de Barbs Marbois. This Minister had made many enemies by strictly doing his job, and yet, despite his unwavering integrity, he fell victim to accusations of having jeopardized the safety of the State due to a weak character. At that time, even Madame de Stael remarked at a gathering where M. Barbs Marbois's firmness was discussed—"What, he's inflexible? He’s just a bronze reed!" But regardless of any opinions about this Minister's character, it’s clear that Napoleon's anger toward him was immense. This marked a financial disaster that occurred during the Vienna campaign; however, all was not over for Ouvrard, and amidst such chaos, it was inevitable that the Imperial hand, which wasn't always just, would make its presence felt somewhere.







      In the course of the month of February 1806 the Emperor issued two
      decrees, in which he declared Ouvrard, Wanlerberghe, and Michel,
      contractors for the service of 1804, and Desprez their agent, debtors to
      the amount of 87,000,000, which they had misapplied in private
      speculations, and in transactions with Spain "for their personal
      interests." Who would not suppose from this phrase that Napoleon had taken
      no part whatever in the great financial operation between Spain and South
      America? He was, however, intimately acquainted with it, and was himself
      really and personally interested. But whenever any enterprise was
      unsuccessful he always wished to deny all connection with it. Possessed of
      title-deeds made up by himself—that is to say, his own decrees—the
      Emperor seized all the piastres and other property belonging to the
      Company, and derived from the transaction great pecuniary advantage,—though
      such advantage never could be regarded by a sovereign as any compensation
      for the dreadful state into which the public credit had been brought.
    
In February 1806, the Emperor issued two decrees declaring Ouvrard, Wanlerberghe, and Michel, contractors from 1804, and Desprez their agent, owed 87,000,000 due to misusing funds in private ventures and dealings with Spain "for their personal interests." Who would think from this wording that Napoleon had no involvement in the major financial dealings between Spain and South America? In reality, he was well aware of it and had a personal stake in it. However, whenever a venture failed, he always wanted to distance himself from it. Armed with titles he created himself—his own decrees—the Emperor confiscated all the money and assets belonging to the Company, profiting significantly from the transaction, though no amount of profit could ever make up for the terrible state of public credit that resulted.








 


 




















      CHAPTER V
    



      1805-1806.
    
1805-1806.


   Declaration of Louis XVIII.—Dumouriez watched—News of a spy—
   Remarkable trait of courage and presence of mind—Necessity of
   vigilance at Hamburg—The King of Sweden—His bulletins—Doctor Gall
   —Prussia covets Hamburg—Projects on Holland—Negotiations for
   peace—Mr. Fox at the head of the British Cabinet—Intended
   assassination of Napoleon—Propositions made through Lord Yarmouth
   —Proposed protection of the Hanse towns—Their state—
   Aggrandisement of the Imperial family—Neither peace nor war—
   Sebastiani's mission to Constantinople—Lord Lauderdale at Paris,
   and failure of the negotiations—Austria despoiled—Emigrant
   pensions—Dumouriez's intrigues—Prince of Mecklenburg-Schwerin—
   Loizeau.

   Declaration of Louis XVIII.—Dumouriez watched—News of a spy—  
   Remarkable act of bravery and quick thinking—Need for vigilance in Hamburg—  
   The King of Sweden—His bulletins—Doctor Gall—Prussia wants Hamburg—  
   Plans for Holland—Negotiations for peace—Mr. Fox leading the British Cabinet—  
   Plot to assassinate Napoleon—Proposals made through Lord Yarmouth—  
   Suggested protection for the Hanse cities—their situation—  
   Growth of the Imperial family—Neither peace nor war—  
   Sebastiani's mission to Constantinople—Lord Lauderdale in Paris,  
   and the failure of the negotiations—Austria stripped of resources—  
   Emigrant pensions—Dumouriez's plots—Prince of Mecklenburg-Schwerin—  
   Loizeau.







      I have been somewhat diffuse respecting the vast enterprises of M.
      Ouvrard, and on the disastrous state of the finances during the campaign
      of Vienna. Now, if I may so express myself, I shall return to the Minister
      Plenipotentiary's cabinet, where several curious transactions occurred.
      The facts will not always be given in a connected series, because there
      was no more relation between the reports which I received on a great
      variety of subjects than there is in the pleading of the barristers who
      succeed each other in a court of justice.
    
I’ve been a bit scattered when talking about M. Ouvrard’s big projects and the terrible state of finances during the Vienna campaign. Now, if I may say so, I’ll return to the Minister Plenipotentiary's office, where some interesting transactions took place. The facts won’t always be presented in a clear sequence, because the reports I received on a wide range of topics had as little connection to each other as the arguments of lawyers who take turns in a courtroom.







      On the 2d of January 1806 I learned that many houses in Hamburg had
      received by post packets, each containing four copies of a declaration of
      Louis XVIII. Dumouriez had his carriage filled with copies of this
      declaration when he passed through Brunswick; and in that small town alone
      more than 3000 were distributed. The size of this declaration rendered its
      transmission by post very easy, even in France.
    
On January 2, 1806, I found out that many houses in Hamburg had received by mail packets, each containing four copies of a declaration from Louis XVIII. Dumouriez had his carriage packed with copies of this declaration when he traveled through Brunswick, and in that small town alone, more than 3,000 were distributed. The size of this declaration made it very easy to send by mail, even in France.







      All my letters from the Minister recommended that I should keep a strict
      watch over the motions of Dumouriez; but his name was now as seldom
      mentioned as if he had ceased to exist. The part he acted seemed to be
      limited to disseminating pamphlets more or less insignificant.
    
All my letters from the Minister advised me to keep a close watch on Dumouriez's movements; however, his name was now rarely mentioned as if he had disappeared. His role seemed to be mostly about spreading pamphlets that were mostly unimportant.







      It is difficult to conceive the great courage and presence of mind
      sometimes found in men so degraded as are the wretches who fill the office
      of spies. I had an agent amongst the Swedo-Russians, named Chefneux, whom
      I had always found extremely clever and correct. Having for a long time
      received no intelligence from him I became very anxious,—an anxiety
      which was not without foundation. He had, in fact, been arrested at
      Lauenburg, and conducted, bound, tied hand and foot, by some Cossacks to
      Luneburg. There was found on him a bulletin which he was about to transmit
      to me, and he only escaped certain death by having in his possession a
      letter of recommendation from a Hamburg merchant well known to M.
      Alopaeus, the Russian Minister in that city. This precaution, which I had
      taken before he set out, saved his life. M. Alopaeus replied to the
      merchant that, in consequence of his recommendation the spy should be sent
      back safe and sound, but that another time neither the recommended nor the
      recommender should escape so easily. Notwithstanding this, Chefneux would
      certainly have paid with his head for the dangerous business in which he
      was embarked but for the inconceivable coolness he displayed under the
      most trying circumstances. Though the bulletin which was found upon him
      was addressed to M. Schramm, merchant, they strongly suspected that it was
      intended for me. They demanded of the prisoner whether he knew me; to
      which he boldly replied that he had never seen me. They endeavoured, by
      every possible means, to extort a confession from him, but without
      success. His repeated denials, joined to the name of M. Schramm, created
      doubts in the minds of his interrogators; they hesitated lest they should
      condemn an innocent man. They, however, resolved to make a last effort to
      discover the truth, and Chefneux, condemned to be shot, was conducted to
      the plain of Luneburg. His eyes were bandaged, and he heard the command of
      preparation given to the platoon, which was to fire upon him; at that
      moment a man approaching him whispered in his ear, in a tone of friendship
      and compassion, "They are going to fire; but I am your friend; only
      acknowledge that you know M. de Bourrienne and you are safe."—"No,"
      replied Chefneux in a firm tone; "if I said so I should tell a falsehood."
      Immediately the bandage was removed from his eyes, and he was set at
      liberty. It would be difficult to cite a more extraordinary instance of
      presence of mind.
    
It’s hard to imagine the immense courage and presence of mind that can sometimes be found in men as lowly as those who serve as spies. I had an agent among the Swedo-Russians named Chefneux, who I always found to be incredibly smart and dependable. After not hearing from him for a long time, I became very worried—a concern that was justified. He had actually been arrested in Lauenburg and was taken, bound hand and foot, by some Cossacks to Luneburg. They found a bulletin on him that he was about to send to me, and he only avoided certain death because he had a letter of recommendation from a Hamburg merchant who was well known to M. Alopaeus, the Russian Minister in that city. This precaution, which I had put in place before he left, saved his life. M. Alopaeus told the merchant that, thanks to his recommendation, the spy would be sent back safe and sound, but next time, neither the recommended nor the recommender should expect to escape so easily. Despite that, Chefneux would have likely paid with his life for the dangerous job he was involved in if not for the incredible coolness he showed under the most challenging circumstances. Although the bulletin found on him was addressed to M. Schramm, a merchant, they strongly suspected it was really meant for me. They asked the prisoner if he knew me, to which he boldly replied that he had never seen me. They tried every possible way to force a confession out of him but had no luck. His repeated denials, combined with M. Schramm’s name, created doubts in the minds of his interrogators; they hesitated, fearing they might condemn an innocent man. However, they decided to make one last effort to uncover the truth, and Chefneux, sentenced to be shot, was taken to the plain of Luneburg. His eyes were blindfolded, and he heard the order given to the firing squad, which was about to execute him; at that moment, a man approaching him whispered in a friendly and compassionate tone, "They are going to fire; but I am your friend; just admit that you know M. de Bourrienne and you’ll be safe." "No," Chefneux replied firmly, "if I said that, I would be lying." Immediately, the blindfold was taken off his eyes, and he was set free. It would be hard to find a more extraordinary example of presence of mind.







      Much as I execrate the system of espionage I am nevertheless compelled to
      admit that the Emperor was under the necessity of maintaining the most
      unremitting vigilance amidst the intrigues which were going forward in the
      neighbourhood of Hamburg, especially when the English, Swedes, and
      Russians were in arms, and there were the strongest grounds for suspecting
      the sincerity of Prussia.
    
As much as I hate the system of spying, I have to admit that the Emperor had to stay extremely vigilant with all the schemes happening around Hamburg, especially with the English, Swedes, and Russians at war and strong reasons to doubt Prussia's honesty.







      On the 5th of January 1806 the King of Sweden arrived before the gates of
      Hamburg. The Senate of that city, surrounded on all sides by English,
      Swedish, and Russian troops, determined to send a deputation to
      congratulate the Swedish monarch, who, however, hesitated so long about
      receiving this homage that fears were entertained lest his refusal should
      be followed by some act of aggression. At length, however, the deputies
      were admitted, and they returned sufficiently well satisfied with their
      reception.
    
On January 5, 1806, the King of Sweden arrived at the gates of Hamburg. The Senate of the city, encircled by English, Swedish, and Russian troops, decided to send a delegation to congratulate the Swedish king. However, he took so long to agree to meet them that there were worries his refusal might lead to some kind of aggression. Eventually, the delegates were allowed in, and they returned feeling pretty satisfied with how they were received.







      The King of Sweden then officially declared, "That all the arrangements
      entered into with relation to Hanover had no reference to hint, as the
      Swedish army was under the immediate command of its august sovereign."
    
The King of Sweden then officially declared, "All the agreements made regarding Hanover had no connection to him, as the Swedish army was directly under the command of its esteemed sovereign."







      The King, with his 6000 men, seemed inclined to play the part of the
      restorer of Germany, and to make himself the Don Quixote of the treaty of
      Westphalia. He threatened the Senate of Hamburg with the whole weight of
      his anger, because on my application the colours which used to be
      suspended over the door of the house for receiving Austrian recruits had
      been removed. The poor Senate of Hamburg was kept in constant alarm by so
      dangerous a neighbour.
    
The King, along with his 6,000 men, appeared eager to take on the role of Germany’s savior, wanting to be the Don Quixote of the Treaty of Westphalia. He warned the Senate of Hamburg about his intense displeasure because, at my insistence, the flags that used to hang over the door of the house for receiving Austrian recruits had been taken down. The Senate of Hamburg lived in constant fear of such a threatening neighbor.







      The King of Sweden had his headquarters at Boetzenburg, on the northern
      bank of the Elbe. In order to amuse himself he sent for Dr. Gall, who was
      at Hamburg, where he delivered lectures on his system of phrenology, which
      was rejected in the beginning by false science and prejudice, and
      afterwards adopted in consequence of arguments, in my opinion,
      unanswerable. I had the pleasure of living some time with Dr. Gall, and I
      owe to the intimacy which subsisted between us the honour he conferred on
      me by the dedication of one of his works. I said to him, when he departed
      for the headquarters of the King of Sweden, "My dear doctor, you will
      certainly discover the bump of vanity." The truth is, that had the doctor
      at that period been permitted to examine the heads of the sovereigns of
      Europe they would have afforded very curious craniological studies.
    
The King of Sweden had his base at Boetzenburg, on the northern bank of the Elbe. To entertain himself, he called for Dr. Gall, who was in Hamburg giving lectures on his phrenology system. Initially dismissed by flawed science and bias, phrenology later gained acceptance due to what I believe are unarguable points. I had the pleasure of spending some time with Dr. Gall, and due to our close friendship, he honored me by dedicating one of his works to me. When he was about to leave for the King of Sweden's headquarters, I told him, "My dear doctor, you'll definitely find the bump of vanity." The truth is, if the doctor had been allowed to examine the heads of Europe's rulers at that time, it would have led to some fascinating studies in craniology.







      It was not the King of Sweden alone who gave uneasiness to Hamburg; the
      King of Prussia threatened to seize upon that city, and his Minister
      publicly declared that it would very soon belong to his master. The
      Hamburgers were deeply afflicted at this threat; in fact, next to the loss
      of their independence, their greatest misfortune would have been to fall
      under the dominion of Prussia, as the niggardly fiscal system of the
      Prussian Government at that time would have proved extremely detrimental
      to a commercial city. Hanover, being evacuated by the French troops, had
      become a kind of recruiting mart for the British army, where every man who
      presented himself was enrolled, to complete the Hanoverian legion which
      was then about to be embodied. The English scattered gold by handfuls. One
      hundred and fifty carriages, each with six horses, were employed in this
      service, which confirmed me in the belief I had previously entertained,
      that the English were to join with the Russians in an expedition against
      Holland. The aim of the Anglo-Russians was to make a diversion which might
      disconcert the movements of the French armies in Germany, the allies being
      at that time unacquainted with the peace concluded at Presburg. Not a
      moment was therefore to be lost in uniting the whole of our disposable
      force for the defence of Holland; but it is not of this expedition that I
      mean to speak at present. I only mention it to afford some idea of our
      situation at Hamburg, surrounded, as we then were, by Swedish, English,
      and Russian troops. At this period the Russian Minister at Hamburg, M.
      Forshmann, became completely insane; his conduct had been more injurious
      than advantageous to his Government. He was replaced by M. Alopcous, the
      Russian Minister at Berlin; and they could not have exchanged a fool for a
      more judicious and able diplomatist.
    
It wasn't just the King of Sweden causing trouble for Hamburg; the King of Prussia also threatened to take that city, and his Minister openly stated it would soon belong to his king. The people of Hamburg were very distressed by this threat; after losing their independence, their biggest disaster would have been falling under Prussia's control, as the greedy tax system of the Prussian government at the time would have been extremely harmful to a trading city. With the French troops leaving Hanover, it turned into a sort of recruitment center for the British army, where every man who showed up was enlisted to help form the Hanoverian legion that was about to be established. The English were throwing around money left and right. One hundred and fifty carriages, each pulled by six horses, were used for this purpose, which reinforced my belief that the English were planning to team up with the Russians for an operation against Holland. The goal of the Anglo-Russian forces was to create a distraction that would throw off the movements of the French armies in Germany, as the allies at that time were unaware of the peace agreement made at Presburg. So, we needed to act fast to bring together all our available forces to defend Holland; however, I'm not focusing on that expedition right now. I mention it just to give you an idea of our situation in Hamburg, as we were surrounded by Swedish, English, and Russian troops. During this time, the Russian Minister in Hamburg, M. Forshmann, completely lost his mind; his actions had caused more harm than good for his government. He was replaced by M. Alopcous, the Russian Minister in Berlin, and they couldn't have swapped a fool for a more sensible and capable diplomat.







      I often received from the Minister of Marine letters said packets to
      transmit to the Isle of France,(Mauritius) of which the Emperor was
      extremely anxious to retain possession; and I had much trouble in finding
      any vessels prepared for that colony by which I could forward the
      Minister's communications. The death of Pitt and the appointment of Fox as
      his successor had created a hope of peace. It was universally known that
      Mr. Fox, in succeeding to his office, did not inherit the furious hatred
      of the deceased Minister against France and her Emperor. There moreover
      existed between Napoleon and Mr. Fox a reciprocal esteem, and the latter
      had shown himself really disposed to treat. The possibility of concluding
      a peace had always been maintained by that statesman when he was in
      opposition to Mr. Pitt; and Bonaparte himself might have been induced,
      from the high esteem he felt for Mr. Fox, to make concessions from which
      he would before have recoiled. But there were two obstacles, I may say
      almost insurmountable ones. The first was the conviction on the part of
      England that any peace which might be made would only be a truce, and that
      Bonaparte would never seriously relinquish his desire of universal
      dominion. On the other side, it was believed that Napoleon had formed the
      design of invading England. Had he been able to do so it would have been
      less with the view of striking a blow at her commerce and destroying her
      maritime power, than of annihilating the liberty of the press, which he
      had extinguished in his own dominions. The spectacle of a free people,
      separated only by six leagues of sea, was, according to him, a seductive
      example to the French, especially to those among them who bent unwillingly
      under his yoke.
    
I often received letters from the Minister of Marine, referred to as packets, to send to the Isle of France (Mauritius), which the Emperor was very eager to keep. I had a lot of trouble finding any ships ready to go to that colony to forward the Minister's messages. The death of Pitt and the appointment of Fox as his successor sparked hope for peace. It was well known that Mr. Fox, upon taking office, did not inherit the deep-seated hatred that the late Minister had for France and her Emperor. Furthermore, there was mutual respect between Napoleon and Mr. Fox, and the latter had shown a genuine willingness to negotiate. The possibility of achieving peace had always been advocated by that politician when he was in opposition to Mr. Pitt; and Bonaparte himself might have been swayed, due to his high regard for Mr. Fox, to make concessions he would have previously avoided. However, there were two obstacles, which I can say were nearly insurmountable. The first was England's belief that any peace established would only be a temporary ceasefire, and that Bonaparte would never truly give up his ambition for universal power. On the flip side, it was thought that Napoleon had plans to invade England. If he were able to do so, it would be less about striking at her commerce and destroying her naval strength, and more about crushing the freedom of the press, which he had already eliminated in his own territories. To him, the sight of a free people, separated only by six leagues of sea, was an enticing example for the French, especially for those who reluctantly submitted to his rule.







      At an early period of Mr. Fox's ministry a Frenchman made the proposition
      to him of assassinating the Emperor, of which information was immediately
      transmitted to M. de Talleyrand. In this despatch the Minister said that,
      though the laws of England did not authorise the permanent detention of
      any individual not convicted of a crime, he had on this occasion taken it
      on himself to secure the miscreant till such time as the French Government
      could be put on its guard against his attempts. Mr. Fox said in his letter
      that he had at first done this individual "the honour to take him for a
      spy," a phrase which sufficiently indicated the disgust with which the
      British Minister viewed him.
    
At an early stage of Mr. Fox's time in office, a Frenchman proposed to him the idea of assassinating the Emperor, and this information was quickly passed on to M. de Talleyrand. In this message, the Minister mentioned that, although England's laws did not allow for the permanent detention of anyone who hadn’t been convicted of a crime, he had taken it upon himself to hold the suspect until the French Government could be alerted to his plans. Mr. Fox stated in his letter that he had initially regarded this individual as "honorably taking him for a spy," a phrase that clearly showed the contempt with which the British Minister regarded him.







      This information was the key which opened the door to new negotiations. M.
      de Talleyrand was ordered to express, in reply to the communication of Mr.
      Fox, that the Emperor was sensibly affected at the index it afforded of
      the principles by which the British Cabinet was actuated. Napoleon did not
      limit himself to this diplomatic courtesy; he deemed it a favourable
      occasion to create a belief that he was actuated by a sincere love of
      peace. He summoned to Paris Lord Yarmouth, one of the most distinguished
      amongst the English who had been so unjustly detained prisoners at Verdun
      on the rupture of the peace of Amiens. He gave his lordship instructions
      to propose to the British Government a new form of negotiations, offering
      to guarantee to England the Cape of Good Hope and Malta. Some have been
      inclined from this concession to praise the moderation of Bonaparte;
      others to blame him for offering to resign these two places, as if the
      Cape and Malta could be put in competition with the title of Emperor, the
      foundation of the Kingdom of Italy, the acquisition of Genoa and of all
      the Venetian States, the dethronement of the King of Naples and the gift
      of his kingdom to Joseph, and finally, the new partition of Germany. These
      transactions, of which Bonaparte said not a word, and from which he
      certainly had no intention of departing, were all long after the treaty of
      Amiens.
    
This information was the key that opened the door to new negotiations. M. de Talleyrand was instructed to convey to Mr. Fox that the Emperor was genuinely affected by the insights it provided regarding the principles guiding the British Cabinet. Napoleon didn’t stop at this diplomatic courtesy; he saw it as a good opportunity to cultivate the impression that he was genuinely committed to peace. He called Lord Yarmouth to Paris, one of the most notable Englishmen who had been unfairly held as a prisoner at Verdun when the peace of Amiens broke down. He directed his lordship to suggest a new format for negotiations to the British Government, offering to guarantee the Cape of Good Hope and Malta to England. Some people have been inclined to praise Bonaparte’s moderation for this concession; others criticize him for offering to give up these two territories, as if the Cape and Malta could compare to his title as Emperor, the foundation of the Kingdom of Italy, the acquisition of Genoa, all the Venetian States, the dethronement of the King of Naples, and handing over his kingdom to Joseph, as well as the new division of Germany. Bonaparte didn’t mention these dealings, nor did he have any intention of backing away from them, all of which occurred long after the treaty of Amiens.







      Every day brought with it fresh proofs of insatiable ambition. In fact,
      Napoleon longed to obtain possession of the Hanse Towns. I was, however,
      in the first place, merely charged to make overtures to the Senates of
      each of these towns, and to point out the advantages they would derive
      from the protection of Napoleon in exchange for the small sacrifice of
      6,000,000 francs in his favour. I had on this subject numerous conferences
      with the magistrates: they thought the sum too great, representing, to me
      that the city was not so rich as formerly, because their commerce had been
      much curtailed by the war; in short, the Senate declared that, with the
      utmost goodwill, their circumstances would not permit them to accept the
      "generous proposal" of the Emperor.
    
Every day showed new evidence of relentless ambition. In fact, Napoleon wanted to take control of the Hanse Towns. However, my main task was simply to reach out to the Senates of each of these towns and explain the benefits they would gain from Napoleon's protection in exchange for a small sacrifice of 6,000,000 francs in his favor. I had many discussions with the officials about this; they felt the amount was too high, telling me that the city wasn’t as wealthy as it used to be because their trade had been greatly reduced by the war. In short, the Senate stated that, despite their best intentions, their situation wouldn’t allow them to accept the "generous proposal" from the Emperor.







      I was myself, indeed, at a loss to conceive how the absurdity of employing
      me to make such a proposition was overlooked, for I had, really no
      advantage to offer in return to the Hanse Towns. Against whom did
      Bonaparte propose to protect them? The truth is, Napoleon then wished to
      seize these towns by direct aggression, which, however, he was not able to
      accomplish until four years afterwards.
    
I honestly couldn't understand how it was overlooked that it was ridiculous to ask me to make such a proposal since I had no real benefits to offer in exchange to the Hanse Towns. Who was Bonaparte planning to protect them from? The reality is that Napoleon wanted to take these towns through direct force, but he wasn't able to do that until four years later.







      During five years I witnessed the commercial importance of these cities,
      and especially of Hamburg. Its geographical situation, on a great river
      navigable by large vessels to the city, thirty leagues from the mouth of
      the Elbe; the complete independence it enjoyed; its municipal regulations
      and paternal government, were a few amongst the many causes which had
      raised Hamburg to its enviable height of prosperity. What, in fact, was
      the population of these remnants of the grand Hanseatic League of the
      Middle Ages? The population of Hamburg when I was there amounted to
      90,000, and that of its small surrounding territory to 25,000. Bremen had
      36,000 inhabitants, and 9000 in its territory; the city of Lübeck, which
      is smaller and its territory a little more extensive than that of Bremen,
      contained a population of 24,000 souls within and 16,000 without the
      walls. Thus the total population of the Hanse Towns amounted to only
      200,000 individuals; and yet this handful of men carried on an extensive
      commerce, and their ships ploughed every sea, from the shores of India to
      the frozen regions of Greenland.
    
Over five years, I saw how important these cities were for trade, especially Hamburg. Its location on a major river that large ships could navigate to the city, thirty leagues from the mouth of the Elbe; the complete independence it had; its local laws and supportive government were just a few of the reasons that made Hamburg so prosperous. What was the population of these remaining cities from the great Hanseatic League of the Middle Ages? When I was there, Hamburg had around 90,000 residents, with another 25,000 in its small surrounding area. Bremen had 36,000 people, plus 9,000 in its territory; the city of Lübeck, which was smaller but had a slightly larger surrounding area than Bremen, had a population of 24,000 inside and 16,000 outside its walls. So, the total population of the Hanse Towns was only about 200,000 people; still, this small group engaged in extensive trade, and their ships sailed across every ocean, from the shores of India to the icy realms of Greenland.







      The Emperor arrived at Paris towards the end of January 1806. Having
      created kings in Germany he deemed the moment favourable for surrounding
      his throne with new princes. It was at this period that he created Murat,
      Grand Duke of Cleves and Berg; Bernadotte, Prince of Ponte-Corvo; M. de
      Talleyrand, Duke of Benevento; and his two former colleagues, Cambacérès
      and Lebrun, Dukes of Parma and Piacenza. He also gave to his sister
      Pauline, a short time after her second marriage with the Prince Borghese,
      the title of Duchess of Guastalla. Strange events! who could then have
      foreseen that the duchy of Cambacérès would become the refuge of a
      Princess of Austria, the widowed wife of Napoleon Bonaparte? In the midst
      of the prosperity of the Imperial family, when the eldest of the Emperor's
      brothers had ascended the throne of Naples, when Holland was on the eve of
      being offered to Louis, and Jerome had exchanged his legitimate wife for
      the illegitimate throne of Westphalia, the Imperial pillow was still far
      from being free from anxiety. Hostilities did not actually exist with the
      Continental powers; but this momentary state of repose lacked the
      tranquillity of peace. France was at war with Russia and England, and the
      aspect of the Continent presented great uncertainty, while the treaty of
      Vienna had only been executed in part. In the meantime Napoleon turned his
      eyes towards the East. General Sebastiani was sent to Constantinople. The
      measures be pursued and his judicious conduct justified the choice of the
      Emperor. He was adroit and conciliating, and peace with Turkey was the
      result of his mission. The negotiations with England did not terminate so
      happily, although, after the first overtures made to Lord Yarmouth, the
      Earl of Lauderdale had been sent to Paris by Mr. Fox. In fact, these
      negotiations wholly failed. The Emperor had drawn enormous sums from
      Austria, without counting the vases, statues, and pictures. With which he
      decorated the Louvre, and the bronze with which he clothed the column of
      the Place Vendome,—in my opinion the finest monument of his reign
      and the most beautiful one in Paris. As Austria was exhausted all the
      contributions imposed on her could not be paid in cash, and they gave the
      Emperor bills in payment. I received one for about 7,000,000 on Hamburg on
      account of the stipulations of the treaty of Presburg.
    
The Emperor arrived in Paris towards the end of January 1806. Having made kings in Germany, he saw it as a good time to surround his throne with new princes. During this time, he appointed Murat as Grand Duke of Cleves and Berg; Bernadotte as Prince of Ponte-Corvo; Talleyrand as Duke of Benevento; and his two former colleagues, Cambacérès and Lebrun, as Dukes of Parma and Piacenza. He also gave his sister Pauline, shortly after her second marriage to Prince Borghese, the title of Duchess of Guastalla. Strange times! Who could have predicted that the duchy of Cambacérès would one day become the refuge of an Austrian Princess, the widowed wife of Napoleon Bonaparte? Despite the Imperial family's prosperity—with the Emperor's eldest brother on the throne of Naples, Holland about to be offered to Louis, and Jerome trading his legitimate wife for the illegitimate throne of Westphalia—there was still much anxiety. While hostilities weren't actually happening with the Continental powers, the temporary peace felt anything but secure. France was at war with Russia and England, and the situation on the Continent was very uncertain, with the Treaty of Vienna only partially carried out. Meanwhile, Napoleon looked eastward. General Sebastiani was sent to Constantinople. His actions and wise conduct validated the Emperor's choice. He was diplomatic and accommodating, leading to peace with Turkey. The talks with England, however, didn't end so well; after initial talks with Lord Yarmouth, the Earl of Lauderdale was sent to Paris by Mr. Fox, but those negotiations completely fell through. The Emperor had extracted large amounts of money from Austria, not to mention the vases, statues, and paintings he used to adorn the Louvre, and the bronze for the column in the Place Vendome—arguably the finest monument of his reign and the most beautiful in Paris. As Austria was drained of resources, they couldn’t pay all their contributions in cash and instead gave the Emperor promissory notes. I received one for about 7,000,000 on Hamburg as part of the treaty of Presburg.







      The affairs of the Bourbon Princes became more and more unfavourable, and
      their finances, as well as their chances of success, were so much
      diminished that about this period it was notified to the emigrants in
      Brunswick that the pretender (Louis XVIII.) had no longer the means of
      continuing their pensions. This produced great consternation amongst those
      emigrants, many of whom had no other means of existence; and
      notwithstanding their devotion to the cause of royalty they found a
      pension very useful in strengthening their zeal.
    
The situation for the Bourbon Princes worsened significantly, and their finances, along with their chances of success, fell so much that around this time it was announced to the exiles in Brunswick that the pretender (Louis XVIII.) could no longer afford to pay their pensions. This caused great distress among those exiles, many of whom had no other way to support themselves; and despite their loyalty to the royal cause, they found a pension really helpful in boosting their commitment.






 —[When Louis XVIII. returned to France, and Fouché was his Minister
   of Police, the King asked Fouché whether during his (the King's)
   exile, had not set spies over him, and who they were. Fouché
   hesitated to reply, but the King insisting he said: "If your Majesty
   presses for an answer, it was the Duc de Blacas to whom this matter
   was confided."—"And how much did you pay him?" said the King.
   "Deux cents mille livres de rents, Sire."—"Ah, so!" said the King,
   "then he has played fair; we went halves."—Henry Greville's Diary,
   p. 430.]— 
—[When Louis XVIII returned to France and Fouché was his Minister of Police, the King asked Fouché if, during his exile, he had set any spies on him, and who they were. Fouché hesitated to answer, but when the King insisted, he said: "If Your Majesty wants an answer, it was the Duc de Blacas to whom this was entrusted."—"And how much did you pay him?" asked the King. "Two hundred thousand livres in rents, Sire."—"Ah, I see!" said the King, "then he was fair; we split the cost."—Henry Greville's Diary, p. 430.]—







      Amongst those emigrants was one whose name will occupy a certain place in
      history; I mean Dumouriez, of whom I have already spoken, and who had for
      some time employed himself in distributing pamphlets. He was then at
      Stralsund; and it was believed that the King of Sweden would give him a
      command. The vagrant life of this general, who ran everywhere hegging
      employment from the enemies of his country without being able to obtain
      it, subjected him to general ridicule; in fact, he was everywhere
      despised.
    
Among those emigrants was one whose name will hold a spot in history; I’m talking about Dumouriez, whom I’ve mentioned before, and who had been busy handing out pamphlets for a while. He was in Stralsund at the time, and it was thought that the King of Sweden would give him a command. The wandering life of this general, who went around begging for a job from the enemies of his country without any luck, made him the subject of widespread ridicule; in fact, he was looked down upon everywhere.







      To determine the difficulties which had arisen with regard to Holland,
      which Dumouriez dreamed of conquering with an imaginary army, and being
      discontented besides with the Dutch for not rigorously excluding English
      vessels from their ports, the Emperor constituted the Batavian territory a
      kingdom under his brother Louis. When I notified to the States of the
      circle of Lower Saxony the accession of Louis Bonaparte to the throne of
      Holland, and the nomination of Cardinal Fesch as coadjutor and successor
      of the Arch-chancellor of the Germanic Empire, along with their official
      communications, the Duke of Mecklenburg-Schwerin was the only member of
      the circle who forebore to reply, and I understood he had applied to the
      Court of Russia to know "whether" and "how" he should reply. At the same
      time he made known to the Emperor the marriage of his daughter, the
      Princess Charlotte Frederica, with Prince Christian Frederick of Denmark.
    
To figure out the issues that had come up regarding Holland, which Dumouriez fantasized about conquering with a fictional army, and also being unhappy with the Dutch for not strictly keeping English ships out of their ports, the Emperor made the Batavian territory a kingdom under his brother Louis. When I informed the States of the circle of Lower Saxony about Louis Bonaparte becoming the new king of Holland and appointed Cardinal Fesch as coadjutor and successor of the Arch-chancellor of the Germanic Empire, along with their official communications, the Duke of Mecklenburg-Schwerin was the only member of the circle who didn’t respond. I found out he had reached out to the Court of Russia to ask "whether" and "how" he should reply. At the same time, he informed the Emperor about the marriage of his daughter, Princess Charlotte Frederica, to Prince Christian Frederick of Denmark.







      At this period it would have been difficult to foresee the way in which
      this union would terminate. The Prince was young and handsome, and of an
      amiable disposition, which seemed to indicate that he would prove a good
      husband. As for the Princess, she was as beautiful as love; but she was
      heedless and giddy; in fact, she was a spoiled child. She adored her
      husband, and during several years their union proved happy. I had the
      honour of knowing them at the period when the Duke of Mecklenburg, with
      his family, sought refuge at Altona. Before leaving that town the Duchess
      of Mecklenburg, a Princess of Saxony, paid a visit to Madame de Bourrienne
      and loaded her with civilities. This Princess was perfectly amiable, and
      was therefore generally regretted when, two years afterwards, death
      snatched her from her family. Before leaving Altona the Duke of
      Mecklenburg gave some parties by way of bidding adieu to Holstein, where
      he had been so kindly received; and I can never forget the distinguished
      reception and many kindnesses Madame de Bourrienne and myself received
      from that illustrious family.
    
At this time, it would have been hard to predict how this union would end. The Prince was young, handsome, and had a charming personality, suggesting he would be a good husband. The Princess, on the other hand, was as beautiful as love itself, but she was careless and flighty; in other words, she was a spoiled child. She adored her husband, and for several years, their marriage was happy. I had the privilege of knowing them when the Duke of Mecklenburg and his family sought refuge in Altona. Before leaving the town, the Duchess of Mecklenburg, a Princess of Saxony, visited Madame de Bourrienne and showered her with kind gestures. This Princess was truly lovely and was greatly missed when, two years later, death took her from her family. Before departing Altona, the Duke of Mecklenburg threw some farewell parties for Holstein, where he had been warmly welcomed; and I will never forget the gracious hospitality and kindness that Madame de Bourrienne and I received from that esteemed family.







      It consisted of the hereditary Prince, so distinguished by his talents and
      acquirements (he was at that time the widower of a Grand Duchess of
      Russia, a sister of the Emperor Alexander), of Prince Gustavus, so amiable
      and graceful, and of Princess Charlotte and her husband, the Prince Royal
      of Denmark.
    
It included the heir to the throne, who was well-known for his skills and achievements (at that time, he was the widower of a Grand Duchess of Russia, the sister of Emperor Alexander), Prince Gustavus, who was charming and elegant, and Princess Charlotte along with her husband, the Crown Prince of Denmark.







      This happy couple were far from foreseeing that in two years they would be
      separated for ever. The Princess was at this period in all the splendour
      of her beauty; several fetes were given on her account on the banks of the
      Elbe, at which the Prince always opened the ball with Madame de
      Bourrienne. Notwithstanding her amiability the Princess Charlotte was no
      favourite at the Danish Court. Intrigues were formed against her. I know
      not whether any foundation existed for the calumnies spread to her
      disadvantage, but the Court dames accused her of great levity of conduct,
      which, true or false, obliged her husband to separate from her; and at the
      commencement of 1809 he sent her to Altona, attended by a chamberlain and
      a maid of honour. On her arrival she was in despair; hers was not a silent
      grief, for she related her story to every one. This unfortunate woman
      really attracted pity, as she shed tears for her son, three years of age,
      whom she was doomed never again to behold. But her natural levity
      returned; she did not always maintain the reserve suitable to her rank,
      and some months afterwards was sent into Jutland, where I believe she
      still lives.
    
This happy couple had no idea that in two years they would be separated forever. At this time, the Princess was in all her beauty; several celebrations were held for her along the banks of the Elbe, where the Prince always opened the dance with Madame de Bourrienne. Despite her charm, Princess Charlotte was not favored at the Danish Court. Intrigues were plotted against her. I don’t know if there was any truth to the rumors spread about her, but the ladies of the Court accused her of being very promiscuous, which, whether true or not, forced her husband to separate from her. At the start of 1809, he sent her to Altona, accompanied by a chamberlain and a maid of honor. When she arrived, she was heartbroken; her grief wasn't quiet, as she told her story to everyone. This unfortunate woman truly inspired pity as she cried for her three-year-old son, whom she was condemned never to see again. But her natural cheerfulness returned; she didn’t always keep the behavior expected of her rank, and a few months later, she was sent to Jutland, where I believe she still lives.







      The enemies of the French Government did not confine themselves to writing
      and publishing invectives against it. More than one wretch was ready to
      employ daggers against the Emperor. Among this number was a man named
      Louis Loizeau, recently arrived from London. He repaired to Altona, there
      to enjoy the singular privilege which that city afforded of sheltering all
      the ruffians, thieves, and bankrupts who fled from the justice of their
      own Governments. On the 17th of July Loizeau presented himself to Comte de
      Gimel, who resided at Altona, as the agent of the Comte de Lille. He
      offered to repair to Paris and assassinate the Emperor. Comte de Gimel
      rejected the proposal with indignation; and replied, that if he had no
      other means of serving the Bourbons than cowardly assassination he might
      go elsewhere and find confederates. This fact, which was communicated to
      me by a friend of M. de Gimel, determined me to arrest Loizeau. Not being
      warranted, however, to take this step at Altona, I employed a trusty agent
      to keep watch, and draw him into a quarrel the moment he should appear on
      the Hamburg side of a public walk which divides that city from Altona, and
      deliver him up to the nearest Hamburg guard-house. Loizeau fell into the
      snare; but finding that he was about to be conducted from the guardhouse
      to the prison of Hamburg, and that it was at my request he had been
      arrested, he hastily unloosed his cravat, and tore with his teeth the
      papers it contained, part of which he swallowed. He also endeavoured to
      tear some other papers which were concealed under his arm, but was
      prevented by the guard. Furious at this disappointment, he violently
      resisted the five soldiers who had him in custody, and was not secured
      until he had been slightly wounded. His first exclamation on entering
      prison was, "I am undone!" Loizeau was removed to Paris, and, though I am
      ignorant of the ultimate fate of this wretch, I am pretty certain that
      Fouché would take effectual means to prevent him from doing any further
      mischief.
    
The enemies of the French Government didn't just stick to writing and publishing attacks against it. More than one malicious person was ready to use knives against the Emperor. Among them was a man named Louis Loizeau, who had recently arrived from London. He went to Altona, where he could enjoy the unique privilege that the city offered of sheltering all the thugs, thieves, and bankrupts fleeing from their own Governments' justice. On July 17th, Loizeau presented himself to Comte de Gimel, who lived in Altona, as the agent of the Comte de Lille. He offered to go to Paris and assassinate the Emperor. Comte de Gimel rejected the offer with anger and replied that if he had no other way to help the Bourbons than through cowardly assassination, he should go elsewhere to find allies. This fact, which a friend of M. de Gimel shared with me, led me to decide to arrest Loizeau. However, since I wasn't authorized to take action in Altona, I hired a reliable agent to keep watch and provoke him into a fight the moment he appeared on the Hamburg side of a public walkway that separates that city from Altona, so he could be handed over to the nearest Hamburg guardhouse. Loizeau fell into the trap, but when he realized he was being taken from the guardhouse to the Hamburg prison, and that it was at my request he had been captured, he quickly loosened his cravat and bit through the papers it held, swallowing part of them. He also tried to tear some other papers hidden under his arm, but the guard stopped him. Furious about this setback, he violently resisted the five soldiers holding him, and he wasn't subdued until he had sustained minor injuries. His first shout upon entering prison was, "I am finished!" Loizeau was taken to Paris, and although I don’t know what ultimately happened to this wretch, I’m fairly certain that Fouché would take effective steps to stop him from causing any more trouble.








 


 




















      CHAPTER VI.
    



      1806.
    
1806.


   Menaces of Prussia—Offer for restoring Hanover to England—Insolent
   ultimatum—Commencement of hostilities between France and Prussia—
   Battle of Auerstadt—Death of the Duke of Brunswick—Bernadotte in
   Hamburg—Davonet and Bernadotte—The Swedes at Lübeck—Major Amiel—
   Service rendered to the English Minister at Hamburg—My appointment
   of Minister for the King of Naples—New regulation of the German
   post-office—The Confederation of the North—Devices of the Hanse
   Towns—Occupation of Hamburg in the name of the Emperor—Decree of
   Berlin—The military governors of Hamburg—Brune, Michaud, and
   Bernadotte.

   Threats from Prussia—Proposal to return Hanover to England—Rude ultimatum—Start of hostilities between France and Prussia—Battle of Auerstadt—Death of the Duke of Brunswick—Bernadotte in Hamburg—Davonet and Bernadotte—The Swedes at Lübeck—Major Amiel—Assistance provided to the English Minister in Hamburg—My appointment as Minister for the King of Naples—New regulations for the German post-office—The Confederation of the North—Schemes of the Hanse Towns—Occupation of Hamburg on behalf of the Emperor—Berlin decree—The military governors of Hamburg—Brune, Michaud, and Bernadotte.







      The moment now approached when war was about to be renewed in Germany, and
      in proportion as the hopes of peace diminished Prussia redoubled her
      threats, which were inspired by the recollection of the deeds of the great
      Frederick. The idea of peace was hateful to Prussia. Her measures, which
      till now had been sufficiently moderate, suddenly assumed a menacing
      aspect on learning that the Minister of the King of England had declared
      in Parliament that France had consented to the restitution of Hanover. The
      French Ministry intimated to the Prussian Government that this was a
      preliminary step towards a general peace, and that a large indemnity would
      be granted in return. But the King of Prussia, who was well informed, and
      convinced that the House of Hanover clung to this ancient domain, which
      gave to England a certain preponderance in Germany, considered himself
      trifled with, and determined on war.
    
The moment was approaching when war was about to break out in Germany, and as hopes for peace faded, Prussia intensified its threats, inspired by the memory of the great Frederick's actions. The thought of peace was repugnant to Prussia. Her actions, which had been relatively moderate until now, suddenly took on a threatening tone when they learned that the Minister of the King of England had announced in Parliament that France had agreed to return Hanover. The French government hinted to the Prussian government that this was a first step towards a general peace and that a significant compensation would be offered in exchange. However, the King of Prussia, who was well-informed and believed that the House of Hanover was deeply attached to this historic territory—one that gave England a certain dominance in Germany—felt belittled and resolved to go to war.







      Under these circumstances Lord Lauderdale was recalled from Paris by his
      Government. War continued with England, and was about to commence with
      Prussia. The Cabinet of Berlin sent an ultimatum which could scarcely be
      regarded in any other light than a defiance, and from the well-known
      character of Napoleon we may judge of his irritation at this ultimatum.
    
Under these circumstances, Lord Lauderdale was called back from Paris by his government. War was still ongoing with England and was about to start with Prussia. The Berlin Cabinet sent an ultimatum that could hardly be seen as anything but a challenge, and given Napoleon's well-known personality, we can imagine how irritated he must have been by this ultimatum.






 —[The severity with which Bonaparte treated the press may be
   inferred from the case of Palm the publisher. In 1808 Johann
   Phillip Palm, of Nuremberg, was shot by Napoleon's order for issuing
   a pamphlet against the rule of the French in Germany.]— 
—[The harshness with which Bonaparte dealt with the press can be seen in the case of publisher Palm. In 1808, Johann Phillip Palm from Nuremberg was executed on Napoleon's orders for publishing a pamphlet criticizing French rule in Germany.]—







      The Emperor, after his stay of eight months in Paris passed in abortive
      negotiations for peace, set out on the 25th of September for the Rhine.
    
The Emperor, after spending eight months in Paris with failed peace talks, left for the Rhine on September 25th.







      Hostilities commenced on the 10th of October 1806 between France and
      Prussia, and I demanded of the Senate that a stop should be put to the
      Prussians recruiting. The news of a great victory gained by the Emperor
      over the Prussians on the 14th of October reached Hamburg on the 19th,
      brought by some fugitives, who gave such exaggerated accounts of the loss
      of the French army that it was not until the arrival of the official
      despatches on the 28th of October that we knew whether to mourn or to
      rejoice at the victory of Jena.
    
Hostilities started on October 10, 1806, between France and Prussia, and I urged the Senate to put a stop to the Prussians' recruitment efforts. News of a significant victory won by the Emperor over the Prussians on October 14 reached Hamburg on the 19th, brought by some fleeing soldiers who gave such exaggerated accounts of the French army's losses that it wasn't until the official reports arrived on October 28 that we knew whether to mourn or celebrate the victory at Jena.







      The Duke of Brunswick, who was dangerously wounded at the battle of
      Auerstadt, arrived on the 29th of October at Altona.—[This Prince
      was in the seventy-second year of his age, and extremely infirm.]—His
      entrance into that city afforded a striking example of the vicissitudes of
      fortune. That Prince entered Altona on a wretched litter, borne by ten
      men, without officers, without domestics, followed by a troop of vagabonds
      and children, who were drawn together by curiosity. He was lodged in a
      wretched inn, and so much worn out by fatigue and the pain of his eyes
      that on the day after his arrival a report of his death very generally
      prevailed. Doctor Unzer was immediately sent for to attend the unfortunate
      Duke, who, during the few days that he survived his wounds, saw no one
      else except his wife, who arrived on the 1st of November. He expired on
      the 10th of the same month.
    
The Duke of Brunswick, who was seriously injured at the Battle of Auerstadt, arrived in Altona on October 29th. —[This prince was seventy-two years old and in very poor health.]— His arrival in the city was a striking example of the ups and downs of fate. The prince entered Altona on a miserable stretcher, carried by ten men, without any officers or servants, followed by a crowd of curious onlookers and children. He was put up in a dreadful inn, and so exhausted from fatigue and the pain in his eyes that the day after he arrived, widespread rumors of his death circulated. Doctor Unzer was immediately called to attend to the unfortunate duke, who, during the few days he survived his injuries, saw no one else except his wife, who arrived on November 1st. He passed away on the 10th of the same month.






 —[For the mistimed but rather pathetic belief of the old dying Duke
   in the courtesy with which he and his States would be treated by the
   French, see Beugnot, tome 1. p. 80: "I feel sure that there is a
   courier of the Emperor's on the road to know how I am."]— 
 —[For the misplaced yet somewhat sad belief of the old, dying Duke in the politeness he and his States would receive from the French, see Beugnot, vol. 1, p. 80: "I’m certain there’s a courier from the Emperor on the way to check on me."]—







      At this juncture Bernadotte returned to Hamburg. I asked him how I was to
      account for his conduct while he was with Davoust, who had left Nuremberg
      to attack the Prussian army; and whether it was true that he had refused
      to march with that general, and afterwards to aid him when he attacked the
      Prussians on the Weimar road. "The letters I received," observed I, "state
      that you took no part in the battle of Auerstadt; that I did not believe,
      but I suppose you saw the bulletin which I received a little after the
      battle, and which stated that Bonaparte said at Nuremberg, in the presence
      of several officers, 'Were I to bring him before a court-martial he would
      be shot. I shall say nothing to him about it, but I will take care he
      shall know what I think of his behaviour. He has too keen a sense of
      honour not to be aware that he acted disgracefully."—"I think him
      very likely," rejoined Bernadotte, "to have made these observations. He
      hates me because he knows I do not like him; but let him speak to me and
      he shall have his answer. If I am a Gascon, he is a greater one. I might
      have felt piqued at receiving something like orders from Davoust, but I
      did my duty."
    
At this point, Bernadotte returned to Hamburg. I asked him how to explain his behavior while he was with Davoust, who had left Nuremberg to attack the Prussian army, and whether it was true that he had refused to march with that general and later to help him when he attacked the Prussians on the Weimar road. "The letters I got," I noted, "say that you took no part in the battle of Auerstadt; I didn’t believe that, but I guess you saw the bulletin I received shortly after the battle, which stated that Bonaparte said at Nuremberg, in front of several officers, 'If I were to bring him before a court-martial he would be shot. I won’t say anything to him about it, but I’ll make sure he knows what I think of his behavior. He has too strong a sense of honor not to realize that he acted disgracefully.'” — "I find it quite possible," Bernadotte replied, "that he made these remarks. He dislikes me because he knows I don’t like him; but let him talk to me, and he’ll get his answer. If I’m a Gascon, he’s an even bigger one. I might have felt annoyed at getting orders from Davoust, but I did my duty."






 —[The complaints of Bernadotte's conduct on the 14th of October
   1806. when he gave no assistance to Davoust in repulsing the main
   body of the Prussians at Aneratadt, are well known. Jomini says
   that Davoust proposed to Bernadotte to march with him, and even
   offered him the command of the two corps. Bernadotte refused, and
   marched away to Dornburg, where he was of no use, "his obstinacy,
   difficult to explain, nearly compromised both Davoust and the
   success of the battle;" See also Thiers (tome vii. p. 172), who
   attributes Bernadotte's conduct to a profound aversion for Davoust
   conceived on the most frivolous grounds. Bernadotte had frequently
   given cause of complaint to Napoleon in the two campaigns of 1806
   and 1806. In the movement on Vienna Napoleon considered he showed
   want of activity and of zeal. These complaints seem to have been
   made in good faith, for in a letter to Bernadotte's brother-in-law,
   Joseph, Napoleon suggests that health may have been the causes (Du
   Cases, tome i. p. 322). Bernadotte was equally unfortunate in
   putting in his appearance too late at Eylan (see Duc de Rovigo's
   Memoirs, tome ii. p. 48), and also incurred the displeasure of
   Napoleon at Wagram (see later on).]— 
—[The complaints about Bernadotte's behavior on October 14, 1806, when he didn't help Davoust push back the main force of the Prussians at Aneratadt, are well known. Jomini notes that Davoust suggested Bernadotte join him in the march and even offered him command of the two corps. Bernadotte declined and went to Dornburg, where he was of no help; "his stubbornness, difficult to explain, almost jeopardized both Davoust and the success of the battle;" See also Thiers (vol. vii, p. 172), who attributes Bernadotte's actions to a deep-seated dislike for Davoust based on trivial reasons. Bernadotte had often given Napoleon cause for complaint during the 1806 campaigns. During the movement on Vienna, Napoleon felt Bernadotte lacked activity and enthusiasm. These complaints seem sincere, as in a letter to Bernadotte's brother-in-law, Joseph, Napoleon suggests that health issues might have been the reason (Du Cases, vol. i, p. 322). Bernadotte was also unfortunate to arrive too late at Eylan (see Duc de Rovigo's Memoirs, vol. ii, p. 48) and incurred Napoleon's displeasure at Wagram (see later on).]—







      In the beginning of November the Swedes entered Lübeck; but on the 8th of
      that month the town was taken by assault, and the Swedes, as well as the
      rest of the corps which had escaped from Jena, were made prisoners.
    
At the start of November, the Swedes entered Lübeck; however, on the 8th of that month, the town was captured in an attack, and both the Swedes and the rest of the troops that had escaped from Jena were taken prisoner.







      A troop of Prussians had advanced within four leagues of Hamburg, and that
      town had already prepared for a vigorous resistance, in case they should
      attempt an entrance, when Major Amiel attacked them at Zollenspieker and
      made some prisoners. Hamburg was, however, threatened with another danger,
      for Major Amiel expressed his intention of entering with all his
      prisoners, notwithstanding the acknowledged neutrality of the town. Amiel
      was a partisan leader in the true sense of the word; he fought rather on
      his own account than with the intention of contributing to the success of
      the operations of the army. His troop did not consist of more than forty
      men, but that was more than sufficient to spread terror and devastation in
      the surrounding villages. He was a bold fellow, and when, with his handful
      of men, he threw himself upon Hamburg, the worthy inhabitants thought he
      had 20,000 troops with him. He had pillaged every place through which he
      passed, and brought with him 300 prisoners, and a great many horses he had
      taken on his road. It was night when he presented himself at the gates of
      the city, which he entered alone, having left his men and booty at the
      last village. He proceeded to the French Embassy. I was not there at the
      time, but I was sent for, and about seven o'clock in the evening I had my
      first interview with the Major. He was the very, beau ideal of a bandit,
      and would have been an admirable model for a painter. I was not at all
      surprised to hear that on his arrival his wild appearance and huge
      mustachios had excited some degree of terror among those who were in the
      salon. He described his exploits on the march, and did not disguise his
      intention of bringing his troops into Hamburg next day. He talked of the
      Bank and of pillage. I tried for some time to divert him from this idea,
      but without effect, and at length said to him, "Sir, you know that this is
      not the way the Emperor wishes to be served. During the seven years that I
      have been about him, I have invariably heard him express his indignation
      against those who aggravate the misery which war naturally brings in her
      train. It is the express wish of the Emperor that no damage, no violence
      whatever, shall be committed on the city or territory of Hamburg." These
      few words produced a stronger effect than any entreaties I could have
      used, for the mere name of the Emperor made even the boldest tremble, and
      Major Amiel next thought of selling his booty. The Senate were so
      frightened at the prospect of having Amiel quartered upon them that to get
      rid of him they determined to purchase his booty at once, and even
      furnished him with guards for his prisoners. I did not learn till some
      time afterwards that among the horses Major Amiel had seized upon the road
      were those of the Countess Walmoden. Had I known this fact at the time I
      should certainly have taken care to have had them restored to her. Madame
      Walmoden was then a refugee at Hamburg, and between her and my family a
      close intimacy existed. On the very day, I believe, of the Major's
      departure the Senate wrote me a letter of thanks for the protection I
      afforded the town.
    
A group of Prussians had moved within four leagues of Hamburg, and the city was already gearing up for a strong defense in case they tried to enter when Major Amiel attacked them at Zollenspieker and took some prisoners. However, Hamburg faced another threat, as Major Amiel planned to enter the city with all his prisoners, despite the town’s recognized neutrality. Amiel was a true partisan leader; he fought more for his own agenda than to support the army's efforts. His troop had no more than forty men, but that was enough to instill fear and destruction in the nearby villages. He was daring, and when, with his small force, he attacked Hamburg, the residents thought he had 20,000 troops with him. He looted every place he passed through, bringing with him 300 prisoners and many horses he had captured along the way. It was nighttime when he arrived at the city's gates, entering alone after leaving his men and spoils at the last village. He headed to the French Embassy. I wasn't there at the time but was called in, and around seven o'clock in the evening, I had my first meeting with the Major. He was the perfect image of a bandit and would have made an excellent model for a painter. I wasn’t surprised to learn that his wild appearance and large mustache had caused some fear among those in the salon upon his arrival. He recounted his exploits during the march and didn’t hide his plan to bring his troops into Hamburg the next day. He spoke of the Bank and looting. I tried for a while to steer him away from this idea, but without success, and finally said to him, "Sir, you know the Emperor does not want this kind of service. In my seven years around him, I've always heard him express anger towards those who worsen the suffering that war inevitably brings. The Emperor explicitly wishes for no harm or violence against the city or territory of Hamburg." These few words had a stronger impact than any pleas I could have made because just mentioning the Emperor made even the bravest hesitate, and Major Amiel then considered selling his loot. The Senate was so scared at the thought of having Amiel imposed on them that they decided to buy his booty right away just to get rid of him and even provided him with guards for his prisoners. I didn’t find out until later that among the horses Major Amiel had captured on the road were those belonging to Countess Walmoden. If I had known this at the time, I would have made sure to have them returned to her. Madame Walmoden was staying in Hamburg as a refugee, and my family was close to her. On the very day, I believe, of the Major's departure, the Senate sent me a letter of thanks for the protection I provided to the town.







      Before the commencement of the Prussian campaign, while anxiety was
      entertained respecting the designs of the Cabinet of Berlin, my task was
      not an easy one. I exerted all my efforts to acquaint the French
      Government with what was passing on the Spree. I announced the first
      intelligence of an unexpected movement which had taken place among the
      Prussian troops cantoned in the neighbourhood of Hamburg. They suddenly
      evacuated Lauenburg, Platzburg, Haarburg, Stade, Twisenfelth, and
      Cuxhaven. This extraordinary movement gave rise to a multitude of
      surmises. I was not wrong when I informed the French Government that,
      according to every probability, Prussia was about to declare hostilities
      against France, and to enter into an alliance with England.
    
Before the start of the Prussian campaign, while there were concerns about the plans of the Berlin Cabinet, my job was quite challenging. I did my best to keep the French Government updated on what was happening along the Spree. I was the first to report an unexpected movement among the Prussian troops stationed near Hamburg. They abruptly left Lauenburg, Platzburg, Haarburg, Stade, Twisenfelth, and Cuxhaven. This surprising action led to a lot of speculation. I was correct when I informed the French Government that, most likely, Prussia was about to declare war on France and form an alliance with England.







      I much regretted that my situation did not allow me more frequent
      opportunities of meeting Mr. Thornton, the English Minister to the circle
      of Lower Saxony. However; I saw him sometimes, and had on two different
      occasions the opportunity of rendering him some service. Mr. Thornton had
      requested me to execute a little private business for him, the success of
      which depended on the Emperor. I made the necessary communication to the
      Minister for Foreign Affairs, adding in my letter that Mr. Thornton's
      conduct towards the French who had come in any way in contact with him had
      ever been just and liberal, and that I should receive great pleasure in
      being able to announce to him the success of his application. His request
      was granted.
    
I really wished my situation allowed me to meet Mr. Thornton, the English Minister to the circle of Lower Saxony, more often. Still, I saw him occasionally and had the chance to help him on two different occasions. Mr. Thornton had asked me to handle some private matters for him, which depended on the Emperor's approval. I communicated the necessary information to the Minister for Foreign Affairs, mentioning in my letter that Mr. Thornton's treatment of the French who interacted with him had always been fair and generous, and I would be very pleased to inform him of the success of his request. His request was approved.







      On another occasion Mr. Thornton applied to me for my services, and I had
      once more the pleasure of rendering them. He wished to procure some
      information respecting an Englishman named Baker, who had gone to
      Terracina, in the Campagna di Roma, for the benefit of sea-bathing. He was
      there arrested, without any cause assigned, by order of the commandant of
      the French troops in Terracina. The family of Mr. Baker, not having heard
      from him for some months, became very uneasy respecting him, for they had
      not the least idea of his arrest. His relations applied to Mr. Thornton,
      and that gentleman, notwithstanding the circumstances which, as I have
      stated, prevented our frequent intercourse, hesitated not a moment in
      requesting me to furnish him with some information respecting his
      countryman. I lost no time in writing to M. Alquier, our Ambassador at
      Rome, and soon enabled Mr. Thornton to ease the apprehension of Mr.
      Baker's friends.
    
On another occasion, Mr. Thornton asked me for my help, and I once again enjoyed providing it. He wanted to get some information about an Englishman named Baker, who had gone to Terracina in the Campagna di Roma for a sea-bathing retreat. He was arrested there without any explanation by the commandant of the French troops in Terracina. Mr. Baker's family, not hearing from him for several months, became very worried since they had no idea he had been arrested. His relatives reached out to Mr. Thornton, and despite the circumstances that I mentioned, which limited our communication, he didn’t hesitate to ask me for information about his fellow countryman. I quickly wrote to M. Alquier, our Ambassador in Rome, and soon helped Mr. Thornton put Mr. Baker's friends' minds at ease.







      I had every opportunity of knowing what was passing in Italy, for I had
      just been invested with a new dignity. As the new King of Naples, Joseph,
      had no Minister in Lower Saxony, he wished that I should discharge the
      function of Minister Plenipotentiary for Naples. His Ministers accordingly
      received orders to correspond with me upon all business connected with his
      government and his subjects. The relations between Hamburg and Naples were
      nearly nil, and my new office made no great addition to my labours.
    
I had every chance to know what was happening in Italy, since I had just been given a new position. Since the new King of Naples, Joseph, didn't have a Minister in Lower Saxony, he wanted me to act as Minister Plenipotentiary for Naples. His Ministers were instructed to communicate with me about all matters related to his government and his citizens. The relationship between Hamburg and Naples was almost nonexistent, and my new role didn't really add much to my workload.







      I experienced, however, a little more difficulty in combining all the
      post-offices of Hamburg in the office of the Grand Duchy of Berg, thus
      detaching them from the offices of Latour and Taxis, so named after the
      German family who for a length of time had had the possession of them, and
      who were devoted to Austria.
    
I did find it a bit more challenging to consolidate all the post offices in Hamburg under the Grand Duchy of Berg, therefore separating them from the Latour and Taxis offices, named after the German family that had owned them for a long time and was loyal to Austria.







      After some days of negotiation I obtained the suppression of these
      offices, and their union with the postoffice of the Grand Duc de Berg
      (Murat), who thus received letters from Italy, Hungary, Germany, Poland,
      part of Russia, and the letters from England for these countries.
    
After a few days of negotiations, I managed to eliminate these offices and merge them with the post office of the Grand Duke of Berg (Murat), who then received letters from Italy, Hungary, Germany, Poland, parts of Russia, and the letters from England destined for these countries.







      The affair of the post-offices gained for me the approbation of Napoleon.
      He expressed his satisfaction through the medium of a letter I received
      from Duroc, who at the same time recommended me to continue informing the
      Emperor of all that was doing in Germany with relation to the plans of the
      Confederation of the North. I therefore despatched to the Minister for
      Foreign Affairs a detailed letter, announcing that Baron Grote, the
      Prussian Minister at Hamburg, had set off on a visit to Bremen and Lübeck.
      Among those who accompanied him on this excursion was a person wholly
      devoted to me; and I knew that Baron Grote's object was to offer to these
      towns verbal propositions for their union with the Confederation of the
      North, which the King of Prussia wished to form as a counterpoise to the
      Confederation of the Rhine, just created by Napoleon. Baron Grote observed
      the strictest secrecy in all his movements. He showed, in confidence, to
      those to whom he addressed himself, a letter from M. Haugwitz, the
      Minister of the King of Prussia,
    
The issue with the post offices earned me Napoleon's approval. He conveyed his satisfaction through a letter I received from Duroc, who also suggested that I keep the Emperor updated on everything happening in Germany regarding the plans for the Confederation of the North. I subsequently sent a detailed letter to the Minister for Foreign Affairs, announcing that Baron Grote, the Prussian Minister in Hamburg, had departed for a visit to Bremen and Lübeck. Among those accompanying him was a person completely loyal to me, and I knew that Baron Grote's purpose was to present verbal proposals to these cities for their joining the Confederation of the North, which the King of Prussia wanted to establish as a counterbalance to the Confederation of the Rhine recently created by Napoleon. Baron Grote maintained the strictest secrecy in all his actions. He confidentially shared a letter from M. Haugwitz, the Minister of the King of Prussia, with those he spoke to.






 —[In July 1806, after Austerlitz, Napoleon had formed the
   "Confederation du Rhin." to include the smaller States of Germany,
   who threw off all connection with the German Empire, and formed a
   Confederation furnishing a considerable army. ]— —[The Emperor of Germany, Francis IL, had already in 1804, on
   Napoleon taking the title of Emperor, declared himself Hereditary
   Emperor of Austria. After the formation of the Rhenish
   Confederation and Napoleon's refusal to acknowledge the German
   Empire any longer, he released the States of the Holy Roman Empire
   from their allegiance, declared the Empire dissolved, and contented
   himself with the title of Emperor of Austria, as Francis I.]— 
 —[In July 1806, after the Battle of Austerlitz, Napoleon created the "Confederation of the Rhine," which included the smaller German states that severed ties with the German Empire and formed a Confederation that provided a significant army.]— —[The Emperor of Germany, Francis II, had already declared himself the Hereditary Emperor of Austria in 1804 when Napoleon took the title of Emperor. Following the formation of the Rhine Confederation and Napoleon's refusal to recognize the German Empire any longer, he freed the states of the Holy Roman Empire from their loyalty, declared the Empire dissolved, and settled for the title of Emperor of Austria as Francis I.]—







      who endeavoured to point out to the Hanse Towns how much the Confederation
      of the North would turn to their advantage, it being the only means of
      preserving their liberty, by establishing a formidable power. However, to
      the first communication only an evasive answer was returned. M. Van
      Sienen, the Syndic of Hamburg, was commissioned by the Senate to inform
      the Prussian Minister that the affair required the concurrence of the
      burghers, and that before he could submit it to them it would be necessary
      to know its basis and conditions. Meanwhile the Syndic Doormann proceeded
      to Lübeck, where there was also a deputy from Bremen. The project of the
      Confederation, however, never came to anything.
    
who tried to show the Hanse Towns how beneficial the Confederation of the North would be for them, as it was the only way to maintain their freedom by creating a strong power. However, the initial response was just vague. M. Van Sienen, the Syndic of Hamburg, was tasked by the Senate to inform the Prussian Minister that the matter needed to be discussed with the citizens, and that before he could present it to them, he would need to know the details and terms. In the meantime, Syndic Doormann went to Lübeck, where there was also a representative from Bremen. However, the Confederation project ultimately went nowhere.







      I scrupulously discharged the duties of my functions, but I confess I
      often found it difficult to execute the orders I received, and more than
      once I took it upon myself to modify their severity. I loved the frank and
      generous character of the Hamburgers, and I could not help pity the fate
      of the Hanse Towns, heretofore so happy, and from which Bonaparte had
      exacted such immense sacrifices.
    
I carefully carried out my responsibilities, but I admit I often struggled to follow the orders I was given, and more than once, I felt the need to soften their harshness. I admired the open and generous nature of the people from Hamburg, and I couldn't help but feel sorry for the once-happy Hanse Towns that Bonaparte had forced to endure such huge sacrifices.







      On the principal gate of the Hanse Towns is inscribed the following motto,
      well expressing the pacific spirit of the people: 'Da nobis pacem, Domine,
      in diebus nostris'. The paternal and elected government, which did
      everything to secure the happiness of these towns, was led to believe that
      the sacrifices imposed on them would be recompensed by the preservation of
      their neutrality. No distrust was entertained, and hope was kept alive by
      the assurances given by Napoleon. He published in the Moniteur that the
      Hanse Towns could not be included in any particular Confederation. He thus
      strangled in its birth the Confederation of the North, to which those
      feeble States would otherwise have been obliged to consent. When in 1806
      Napoleon marched against Prussia, he detached Marshal Mortier from the
      Grand Army when it had passed the Rhine, and directed him to invade the
      Electorate of Hesse, and march on Hamburg. On the 19th of November the
      latter town was occupied by the French army in the name of the Emperor,
      amidst the utmost order and tranquillity.
    
On the main gate of the Hanse Towns is the following motto, which captures the peaceful spirit of the people: 'Da nobis pacem, Domine, in diebus nostris'. The caring and elected government, which did everything to ensure the happiness of these towns, believed that the sacrifices they made would be rewarded with the preservation of their neutrality. There was no distrust, and hope remained strong thanks to the assurances given by Napoleon. He announced in the Moniteur that the Hanse Towns could not be included in any specific Confederation. This effectively crushed the Confederation of the North before it could even start, which those weak states would have had to agree to. When Napoleon marched against Prussia in 1806, he ordered Marshal Mortier to break off from the Grand Army after it crossed the Rhine, directing him to invade the Electorate of Hesse and march on Hamburg. On November 19th, the French army occupied Hamburg in the name of the Emperor, all while maintaining utmost order and calm.







      I must acknowledge that I was under much apprehension as to this event. At
      the intelligence of the approach of the French army consternation was
      great and universal in Hamburg, which was anxious to maintain its
      neutrality unimpaired. At the urgent request of the magistrates of the
      city I assumed functions more than diplomatic, and became, in some
      respects, the first magistrate of the town. I went to meet Marshal Mortier
      to endeavour to dissuade him from entering. I thought I should by this
      means better serve the interests of France than by favouring the
      occupation of a neutral town by our troops. But all my remonstrances were
      useless. Marshal Mortier had received formal orders from the Emperor.
    
I have to admit that I was really worried about this situation. When we learned that the French army was approaching, there was widespread panic in Hamburg, which wanted to keep its neutrality intact. At the urgent request of the city officials, I took on more than just diplomatic duties and, in some ways, became the top official of the town. I went to meet Marshal Mortier to try to convince him not to enter. I thought this would better serve France's interests than allowing our troops to occupy a neutral city. But all my efforts were in vain. Marshal Mortier had received official orders from the Emperor.







      No preparations having been made at Hamburg for the reception of Marshal
      Mortier, he quartered himself and his whole staff upon me. The few troops
      he had with him were disposed of in my courtyard, so that the residence of
      a Minister of peace was all at once converted into headquarters. This
      state of things continued until a house was got ready for the Marshal.
    
No preparations had been made in Hamburg to welcome Marshal Mortier, so he and his entire staff took up residence with me. The few troops he brought along were set up in my courtyard, turning the home of a Minister of Peace into headquarters. This situation lasted until a house was prepared for the Marshal.







      Marshal Mortier had to make very rigorous exactions, but my
      representations suspended for a while Napoleon's orders for taking
      possession of the Bank of Hamburg. I am here bound to bear testimony to
      the Marshal's honourable principles and integrity of character. The
      representations which I had sent to Marshal Mortier were transmitted by
      the latter to the Emperor at Berlin; and Mortier stated that he had
      suspended the execution of the orders until he should receive others. The
      Emperor approved of this. It was, indeed, a happy event for France and for
      Europe, even more so than for Hamburg. Those who suggested to the Emperor
      the idea of pillaging that fine establishment must have been profoundly
      ignorant of its importance. They thought only of the 90,000,000 of marks
      banco deposited in its cellars.
    
Marshal Mortier had to enforce very strict demands, but my appeals temporarily halted Napoleon's orders to take control of the Bank of Hamburg. I must acknowledge the Marshal's honorable principles and integrity. The representations I sent to Marshal Mortier were passed along to the Emperor in Berlin, and Mortier indicated that he would delay carrying out the orders until he received further instructions. The Emperor agreed to this. It was truly a fortunate situation for France and for Europe, even more so than for Hamburg. Those who advised the Emperor to loot that impressive institution must have been completely unaware of its significance. They only focused on the 90,000,000 marks banco stored in its vaults.







      By the famous decree of Berlin, dated 21st November 1806, Mortier was
      compelled to order the seizure of all English merchandise in the Hanse
      Towns, but he enforced the decree only so far as to preserve the
      appearance of having obeyed his orders.
    
By the well-known decree from Berlin, dated November 21, 1806, Mortier was forced to order the confiscation of all British goods in the Hanse Towns, but he only went through the motions of enforcing the decree to create the illusion that he was following his orders.







      Mortier, on leaving Hamburg for Mecklenburg, was succeeded by General
      Michaud, who in his turn was succeeded by Marshal Brune in the beginning
      of 1807. I am very glad to take the present opportunity of correcting the
      misconceptions which arose through the execution of certain acts of
      Imperial tyranny. The truth is, Marshal Brune, during his government,
      constantly endeavoured to moderate, as far as he could, the severity of
      the orders he received. Bernadotte became Governor of Hamburg when the
      battle of Jena rendered Napoleon master of Prussia and the north of
      Germany.
    
Mortier, after leaving Hamburg for Mecklenburg, was replaced by General Michaud, who was then succeeded by Marshal Brune at the start of 1807. I'm glad to take this opportunity to clear up the misunderstandings that came about due to certain acts of Imperial tyranny. The truth is, during his time in charge, Marshal Brune continually tried to ease the harshness of the orders he received. Bernadotte became the Governor of Hamburg when the battle of Jena made Napoleon the ruler of Prussia and northern Germany.







      The Prince of Ponte-Corvo lightened, as far as possible, the unjust
      burdens and vexations to which that unfortunate town was subject. He never
      refused his assistance to any measures which I adopted to oppose a system
      of ruin and persecution. He often protected Hamburg against exorbitant
      exactions, The Hanse Towns revived a little under his government, which
      continued longer than that of Mortier, Michaud, and Brune. The memory of
      Bernadotte will always be dear to the Hamburgers; and his name will never
      be pronounced without gratitude. His attention was especially directed to
      moderate the rigour of the custom-houses; and perhaps the effect which his
      conduct produced on public opinion may be considered as having, in some
      measure, led to the decision which, four years after, made him Hereditary
      Prince of Sweden.
    
The Prince of Ponte-Corvo did his best to ease the unfair burdens and troubles that the unfortunate town had to deal with. He always supported any efforts I made to fight against a system of destruction and oppression. He frequently defended Hamburg against excessive demands. The Hanse Towns thrived a bit under his rule, which lasted longer than that of Mortier, Michaud, and Brune. The people of Hamburg will always cherish the memory of Bernadotte, and his name will be mentioned with gratitude. He focused particularly on softening the strictness of the customs regulations, and the impact of his actions on public opinion may have contributed to the decision four years later that made him Hereditary Prince of Sweden.








 


 




















      CHAPTER VII.
    



      1806.
    
1806.


   Ukase of the Emperor of Russia—Duroc's mission to Weimar—
   Napoleon's views defeated—Triumphs of the French armies—Letters
   from Murat—False report respecting Murat—Resemblance between
   Moreau and M. Billand—Generous conduct of Napoleon—His interview
   with Madame Hatzfeld at Berlin—Letter from Bonaparte to Josephine—
   Blücher my prisoner—His character—His confidence in the future
   fate of Germany—Prince Paul of Wurtemberg taken prisoner—His wish
   to enter the French service—Distinguished emigrants at Altona—
   Deputation of the Senate to the Emperor at Berlin—The German
   Princes at Altona—Fauche-Boiel and the Comte de Gimel.

   Ukase of the Emperor of Russia—Duroc's mission to Weimar—Napoleon's views defeated—Triumphs of the French armies—Letters from Murat—False report regarding Murat—Resemblance between Moreau and M. Billand—Generous actions of Napoleon—His meeting with Madame Hatzfeld in Berlin—Letter from Bonaparte to Josephine—Blücher is my prisoner—His character—His confidence in the future of Germany—Prince Paul of Wurtemberg captured—His desire to join the French military—Notable exiles in Altona—Delegation of the Senate to the Emperor in Berlin—The German Princes in Altona—Fauche-Boiel and the Comte de Gimel.







      In September 1806 it became very manifest that, as soon as war should
      break out between France and Prussia, Russia would not be slow in forming
      an alliance with the latter power. Peace had, however, been reestablished
      between Napoleon and Alexander by virtue of a treaty just signed at Paris.
      By that treaty Russia was to evacuate the Bouches du Cattaro,—[The
      Bouches do Cattaro, on the eastern coast of the Adriatic, had formed part
      of the Dalmatian possessions of Venice.]—a condition with which she
      was in no hurry to comply. I received a number of the Court Gazette of St.
      Petersburg, containing a ukase of the Emperor of Russia, in which
      Alexander pointed out the danger which again menaced Europe, showed the
      necessity of adopting precautions for general tranquillity and the
      security of his own Empire, and declared his determination of not only
      completing but augmenting his army. He therefore ordered a levy of four
      men out of every 500 inhabitants.
    
In September 1806, it became clear that once war broke out between France and Prussia, Russia wouldn't waste time forming an alliance with Prussia. However, peace had recently been restored between Napoleon and Alexander thanks to a treaty just signed in Paris. According to that treaty, Russia was supposed to leave the Bouches du Cattaro,—[The Bouches do Cattaro, on the eastern coast of the Adriatic, had formed part of the Dalmatian possessions of Venice.]—a requirement she was in no hurry to fulfill. I received several issues of the Court Gazette from St. Petersburg, which included a decree from the Emperor of Russia. In this decree, Alexander highlighted the renewed threats facing Europe, emphasized the need for precautions to ensure overall stability and the safety of his own Empire, and stated his intention to not only complete but also expand his army. He therefore ordered a draft of four men for every 500 residents.







      Before the commencement of hostilities Duroc was sent to the King of
      Prussia with the view of discovering whether there was any possibility of
      renewing negotiations; but affairs were already too much embarrassed. All
      Duroc's endeavours were in vain, and perhaps it was no longer in the power
      of the King of Prussia to avoid war with France. Besides, he had just
      grounds of offence against the Emperor. Although the latter had given him
      Hanover in exchange for the two Margravates, he had, nevertheless, offered
      to England the restoration of that province as one of the terms of the
      negotiations commenced with Mr. Fox. This underhand work was not unknown
      to the Berlin Cabinet, and Napoleon's duplicity rendered Duroc's mission
      useless. At this time the King of Prussia was at Weimar.
    
Before the start of the conflict, Duroc was sent to the King of Prussia to see if there was any chance of restarting negotiations, but things were already too complicated. All of Duroc's efforts were pointless, and it may have been beyond the King of Prussia's ability to prevent war with France. Additionally, he had valid reasons to be upset with the Emperor. Although the Emperor had given him Hanover in exchange for the two Margravates, he had still offered England the return of that province as part of the negotiations that began with Mr. Fox. This secret maneuvering was known to the Berlin Cabinet, and Napoleon's deceit made Duroc's mission pointless. At that time, the King of Prussia was in Weimar.







      Victory everywhere favoured the French arms. Prince Hohenlohe, who
      commanded a corps of the Prussian army, was forced to capitulate at
      Prentzlau. After this capitulation General Blücher took the command of the
      remains of the corps, to which he joined the troops whose absence from
      Prentzlau exempted them from the capitulation. These corps, added to those
      which Blücher had at Auerstadt, were then almost the only ramparts of the
      Prussian monarchy. Soult and Bernadotte received orders from Murat to
      pursue Blücher, who was using all his efforts to draw from Berlin the
      forces of those two generals. Blücher marched in the direction of Lübeck.
    
Victory favored the French army everywhere. Prince Hohenlohe, who led a division of the Prussian army, was forced to surrender at Prentzlau. After this surrender, General Blücher took command of the remaining troops, adding to his forces the ones that had been absent from Prentzlau, allowing them to avoid capitulation. These units, combined with those Blücher had at Auerstadt, were nearly the last defenses of the Prussian monarchy. Soult and Bernadotte received orders from Murat to pursue Blücher, who was doing everything he could to draw forces away from Berlin from those two generals. Blücher marched toward Lübeck.







      General Murat pursued the wreck of the Prussian army which had escaped
      from Saxony by Magdeburg. Blücher was driven upon Lübeck. It was very
      important to the army at Berlin that this numerous corps should be
      destroyed, commanded as it was by a skillful and brave general, who drew
      from the centre of the military operations numerous troops, with which he
      might throw himself into Hanover, or Hesse, or even Holland, and by
      joining the English troops harass the rear of the Grand Army. The Grand
      Duke of Berg explained to me his plans and expectations, and soon after
      announced their fulfilment in several letters which contained, among other
      things, the particulars of the taking of Lübeck.
    
General Murat chased the remnants of the Prussian army that had escaped from Saxony via Magdeburg. Blücher was forced toward Lübeck. It was crucial for the army in Berlin that this large corps be destroyed, especially since it was led by a skilled and brave general who could draw in additional troops from the center of military operations, potentially launching an attack on Hanover, Hesse, or even Holland, and by teaming up with the English forces, disrupt the rear of the Grand Army. The Grand Duke of Berg shared his plans and expectations with me, and shortly after, he confirmed their success in several letters that included details about the capture of Lübeck.







      In two of these letters Murat, who was probably deceived by his agents, or
      by some intriguer, informed me that General Moreau had passed through
      Paris on the 12th of October, and had arrived in Hamburg on the 28th of
      October. The proof which Murat possessed of this circumstance was a letter
      of Fauche-Borel, which he had intercepted. I recollect a curious
      circumstance which serves to show the necessity of mistrusting the vague
      intelligence furnished to persons in authority. A fortnight before I
      received Murat's first letter a person informed me that General Moreau was
      in Hamburg. I gave no credit to this intelligence, yet I endeavoured to
      ascertain whether it had any foundation, but without effect. Two days
      later I was assured that an individual had met General Moreau, that he had
      spoken to him, that he knew him well from having served under him—together
      with various other circumstances, the truth of which there appeared no
      reason to doubt. I immediately sent for the individual in question, who
      told me that he knew Moreau, that he had met him, that the General had
      inquired of him the way to the Jungfersteige (a promenade at Hamburg),
      that he had pointed it out to him, and then said, "Have I not the honour
      to speak to General Moreau?" upon which the General answered, "Yes, but
      say nothing about having seen me; I am here incognito." All this appeared
      to me so absurd that, pretending not to know Moreau, I asked the person to
      describe him to me. He described a person bearing little resemblance to
      Moreau, and added that he wore a braided French coat and the national
      cockade in his hat. I instantly perceived the whole was a mere scheme for
      getting a little money. I sent the fellow about his business. In a quarter
      of an hour after I had got rid of him M. la Chevardiere called on me, and
      introduced M. Billaud, the French Consul at Stettin. This gentleman wore a
      braided coat and the national cockade in his hat. He was the hero of the
      story I had heard from the informer. A slight personal resemblance between
      the Consul and the General had caused several persons to mistake them for
      each other.
    
In two of these letters, Murat, who was likely misled by his agents or some schemer, informed me that General Moreau had passed through Paris on October 12th and had arrived in Hamburg on October 28th. The evidence Murat had for this was a letter from Fauche-Borel that he had intercepted. I remember an interesting situation that illustrates the need to be skeptical of vague information given to those in power. Two weeks before I received Murat's first letter, someone told me that General Moreau was in Hamburg. I didn't believe this information, but I tried to find out if there was any truth to it, but to no avail. Two days later, I was told that someone had met General Moreau, that they had talked to him, and that they recognized him well from having served under him—along with various other details that seemed credible. I quickly called for this person, who claimed to know Moreau, said they had met him, and mentioned that the General had asked for directions to the Jungfersteige (a promenade in Hamburg), which they provided. Then, supposedly, Moreau said, "Do I not have the honor of speaking to General Moreau?" to which the General replied, "Yes, but don’t mention that you saw me; I’m here incognito." All of this seemed so ridiculous to me that, pretending not to know Moreau, I asked the person to describe him. They described someone who looked little like Moreau and added that he wore a braided French coat and the national cockade in his hat. I instantly realized this was just a scheme to get some money, so I dismissed the person. Within fifteen minutes of getting rid of him, M. la Chevardiere visited me and introduced M. Billaud, the French Consul in Stettin. This gentleman wore a braided coat and the national cockade in his hat. He was the subject of the story I had heard from the informer. A slight personal resemblance between the Consul and the General had led several people to confuse them with each other.







      During the Prussian campaign nothing was talked of throughout Germany but
      Napoleon's generous conduct with respect to Prince Hatzfeld. I was
      fortunate enough to obtain a copy of a letter which the Emperor wrote to
      Josephine on the subject, and which I shall presently lay before the
      reader. In conformity with the inquisitorial system which too frequently
      characterised the Emperor's government, and which he extended to every
      country of which he had military possession, the first thing done on
      entering a town was to take possession of the post-office, and then,
      Heaven knows how little respect was shown to the privacy of
      correspondence. Among the letters thus seized at Berlin and delivered to
      Napoleon was one addressed to the King of Prussia by Prince Hatzfeld, who
      had imprudently remained in the Prussian capital. In this letter the
      Prince gave his Sovereign an account of all that had occurred in Berlin
      since he had been compelled to quit at; and at the same time he informed
      him of the force and situation of the corps of the French army. The
      Emperor, after reading this letter, ordered that the Prince should be
      arrested, and tried by a court-martial on the charge of being a spy.
    
During the Prussian campaign, the only thing anyone in Germany talked about was Napoleon's generous treatment of Prince Hatzfeld. I was lucky enough to get hold of a letter that the Emperor wrote to Josephine about it, which I’ll share with the reader shortly. According to the oppressive system that often defined the Emperor's rule, which he imposed on every territory he controlled militarily, the first action upon entering a town was to take over the post office, and as for respecting the privacy of correspondence, that was practically nonexistent. Among the letters seized in Berlin and sent to Napoleon was one addressed to the King of Prussia from Prince Hatzfeld, who foolishly stayed in the Prussian capital. In this letter, the Prince updated his Sovereign on everything that had happened in Berlin since he had to leave and also informed him about the strength and position of the French army corps. After reading this letter, the Emperor ordered the arrest of the Prince, subjecting him to a court-martial on the accusation of being a spy.







      The Court was summoned, and little doubt could be entertained as to its
      decision when Madame Hatzfeld repaired to Duroc, who on such occasions was
      always happy when he could facilitate communication with the Emperor. On
      that day Napoleon had been at a review. Duroc knew Madame Hatzfeld, whom
      he had several times seen on his visits to Berlin. When Napoleon returned
      from the review he was astonished to see Duroc at the palace at that hour,
      and inquired whether he had brought any news. Duroc answered in the
      affirmative, and followed the Emperor into his Cabinet, where he soon
      introduced Madame Hatzfeld. The remainder of the scene is described in
      Napoleon's letter. It may easily be perceived that this letter is an
      answer to one from Josephine reproaching him for the manner in which he
      spoke of women, and very probably of the beautiful and unfortunate Queen
      of Prussia, respecting whom he had expressed himself with too little
      respect in one of his bulletins. The following is Napoleon's letter:—
    
The Court was called together, and there was little doubt about its decision when Madame Hatzfeld went to see Duroc, who was always happy to help facilitate communication with the Emperor on such occasions. That day, Napoleon had been at a military review. Duroc recognized Madame Hatzfeld, having seen her several times during his visits to Berlin. When Napoleon returned from the review, he was surprised to find Duroc at the palace at that time and asked if he had any news. Duroc confirmed that he did and followed the Emperor into his office, where he soon introduced Madame Hatzfeld. The rest of the scene is detailed in Napoleon's letter. It's clear that this letter is a response to one from Josephine, who criticized him for how he spoke about women, very likely including the beautiful and unfortunate Queen of Prussia, whom he had referred to with too little respect in one of his bulletins. Here is Napoleon's letter:—






   I have received your letter, in which you seem to reproach me for
   speaking ill of women. It is true that I dislike female intriguers
   above all things. I am used to kind, gentle, and conciliatory
   women. I love them, and if they have spoiled me it is not my fault,
   but yours. However, you will see that I have done an act of
   kindness to one deserving woman. I allude to Madame de Hatzfeld.
   When I showed her her husband's letter she stood weeping, and in a
   tone of mingled grief and ingenuousness said, "It is indeed his
   writing!" This went to my heart, and I said, "Well, madame, throw
   the letter into the fire, and then I shall have no proof against
   your husband." She burned the letter, and was restored to
   happiness. Her husband now is safe: two hours later, and he would
   have been lost. You see, therefore, that I like women who are
   simple, gentle, and amiable; because they alone resemble you.

   November 6, 1806, 9 o'clock P.M.

I got your letter where you seem to blame me for speaking badly about women. It’s true that I can’t stand manipulative women more than anything else. I’m used to kind, gentle, and easygoing women. I love them, and if they’ve spoiled me, that’s not my fault but yours. However, you’ll see that I’ve done a good deed for a deserving woman. I’m referring to Madame de Hatzfeld. When I showed her her husband’s letter, she stood there crying and, with a mix of sadness and sincerity, said, “It’s definitely his writing!” This touched my heart, and I said, “Well, madame, throw the letter in the fire, and then I won’t have any proof against your husband.” She burned the letter, and it brought her back to happiness. Her husband is now safe; two hours later, and he would have been doomed. So, you see, I like women who are straightforward, kind, and pleasant because they alone remind me of you.

November 6, 1806, 9 o'clock P.M.







      When Marshal Bernadotte had driven Blücher into Lübeck and made him
      prisoner, he sent to inform me of the circumstance; but I was far from,
      expecting that the prisoner would be confided to my charge. Such, however,
      was the case. After his capitulation he was sent to Hamburg, where he had
      the whole city for his prison.
    
When Marshal Bernadotte captured Blücher and took him prisoner in Lübeck, he sent me a message about it. However, I didn't expect that I would be responsible for the prisoner. But that’s exactly what happened. After he surrendered, he was sent to Hamburg, where he had the entire city as his prison.







      I was curious to become acquainted with this celebrated man, and I saw him
      very frequently. I found that he was an enthusiastic Prussian patriot—a
      brave man, enterprising even to rashness, of limited education, and almost
      to an incredible degree devoted to pleasure, of which he took an ample
      share while he remained in Hamburg. He sat an enormous time at table, and,
      notwithstanding his exclusive patriotism, he rendered full justice to the
      wines of France. His passion for women was unbounded, and one of his most
      favourite sources of amusement was the gaming-table, at which he spent a
      considerable portion of his time. Blücher was of an extremely gay
      disposition; and considered merely as a companion he was very agreeable.
      The original style of his conversation pleased me much. His confidence in
      the deliverance of Germany remained unshaken in spite of the disasters of
      the Prussian army. He often said to me, "I place great reliance on the
      public spirit of Germany—on the enthusiasm which prevails in our
      universities. The events of war are daily changing, and even defeats con
      tribute to nourish in a people sentiments of honour and national glory.
      You may depend upon it that when a whole nation is determined to shake off
      a humiliating yoke it will succeed. There is no doubt but we shall end by
      having a landwehr very different from any militia to which the subdued
      spirit of the French people could give birth. England will always lend us
      the support of her navy and her subsidies, and we will renew alliances
      with Russia and Austria. I can pledge myself to the truth of a fact of
      which I have certain knowledge, and you may rely upon it; namely, that
      none of the allied powers engaged in the present war entertain views of
      territorial aggrandisement. All they unanimously desire is to put an end
      to the system of aggrandisement which your Emperor has established and
      acts upon with such alarming rapidity. In our first war against France, at
      the commencement of your Revolution, we fought for questions respecting
      the rights of sovereigns, for which, I assure you, I care very little; but
      now the case is altered, the whole population of Prussia makes common
      cause with its Government. The people fight in defence of their homes, and
      reverses destroy our armies without changing the spirit of the nation. I
      rely confidently on the future because I foresee that fortune will not
      always favour your Emperor. It is impossible; but the time will come when
      all Europe, humbled by his exactions, and impatient of his depredations,
      will rise up against him. The more he enslaves nations, the more terrible
      will be the reaction when they break their chains. It cannot be denied
      that he is tormented with an insatiable desire of acquiring new
      territories. To the war of 1805 against Austria and Russia the present war
      has almost immediately succeeded. We have fallen. Prussia is occupied; but
      Russia still remains undefeated. I cannot foresee what will be the
      termination of the war; but, admitting that the issue should be favourable
      to you, it will end only to break out again speedily. If we continue firm,
      France, exhausted by her conquests, must in the end fall. You may be
      certain of it. You wish for peace. Recommend it! By so doing You will give
      strong proofs of love for your country."
    
I was eager to get to know this famous man, and I met him often. I discovered that he was a passionate Prussian patriot—brave, adventurous to the point of recklessness, with limited education, and incredibly devoted to pleasure, which he indulged in while in Hamburg. He spent a long time at the table, and despite his strong patriotism, he thoroughly enjoyed French wines. His love for women was endless, and one of his favorite pastimes was gambling, where he dedicated a significant amount of his time. Blücher had a very cheerful personality; as a companion, he was quite enjoyable. I really liked his original way of speaking. His faith in Germany's liberation remained strong despite the setbacks of the Prussian army. He would often say to me, "I have great faith in the spirit of the German people—in the enthusiasm seen in our universities. The outcomes of war change daily, and even defeats help foster feelings of honor and national pride in a people. You can count on it that when an entire nation is set on breaking a humiliating yoke, it will succeed. There’s no doubt that we will end up with a landwehr that’s very different from any militia the defeated spirit of the French people could create. England will always support us with her navy and subsidies, and we will renew our alliances with Russia and Austria. I can assure you of a fact I know to be true, which you can trust; none of the allied powers involved in this war have ambitions for territorial expansion. All they want is to put an end to the expansionist system your Emperor has implemented and is advancing at a terrifying pace. In our first war against France, at the start of your Revolution, we fought for issues about the rights of sovereigns, which frankly, I care very little about; but now things have changed, the entire population of Prussia stands united with its Government. The people are fighting to protect their homes, and defeats may decimate our armies, but they do not change the spirit of the nation. I have strong faith in the future because I foresee that luck will not always be on your Emperor's side. It’s inevitable; the day will come when all of Europe, humiliated by his demands and tired of his plundering, will rise up against him. The more nations he enslaves, the more intense the backlash will be when they break free from their chains. It’s undeniable that he suffers from an insatiable desire for new territories. The war of 1805 against Austria and Russia was almost immediately followed by the current war. We have suffered losses. Prussia is occupied; but Russia remains undefeated. I can’t predict how the war will end; however, even if the outcome favors you, it will only lead to a resurgence soon after. If we remain steadfast, France, weary from her victories, will ultimately fall. You can be sure of that. You desire peace. Advocate for it! By doing so, you’ll show strong evidence of your love for your country."







      In this strain Blücher constantly spoke to me; and as I never thought it
      right to play the part of the public functionary in the drawing-room I
      replied to him with the reserve necessary in my situation. I could not
      tell him how much my anticipations frequently coincided with his; but I
      never hesitated to express to him how much I wished to see a reasonable
      peace concluded.
    
In this context, Blücher kept talking to me; and since I never thought it was appropriate to behave like a public official in the living room, I responded to him with the necessary restraint for my circumstances. I couldn't share how often my expectations matched his, but I never held back in expressing how much I wanted to see a fair peace achieved.







      Blücher's arrival at Hamburg was preceded by that of Prince Paul of
      Wutrtemberg, the second son of one of the two kings created by Napoleon,
      whose crowns were not yet a year old. This young Prince, who was imbued
      with the ideas of liberty and independence which then prevailed in
      Germany, had taken a headlong step. He had quitted Stuttgart to serve in
      the Prussian campaign without having asked his father's permission, which
      inconsiderate proceeding might have drawn Napoleon's anger upon the King
      of Wurtemberg. The King of Prussia advanced Prince Paul to the rank of
      general, but he was taken prisoner at the very commencement of
      hostilities. Prince Paul was not, as has been erroneously stated,
      conducted to Stuttgart by a captain of gendarmerie. He came to Hamburg,
      where I received many visits from him. He did not yet possess very
      definite ideas as to what he wished; for after he was made prisoner he
      expressed to me his strong desire to enter the French service, and often
      asked me to solicit for him an interview with the Emperor. He obtained
      this interview, and remained for a long time in Paris, where I know he has
      frequently resided since the Restoration.
    
Blücher's arrival in Hamburg was preceded by that of Prince Paul of Wurtemberg, the second son of one of the two kings created by Napoleon, whose crowns were still fresh. This young prince, inspired by the ideas of freedom and independence that were prominent in Germany at the time, took a bold step. He left Stuttgart to serve in the Prussian campaign without asking his father's permission, an impulsive move that could have provoked Napoleon's wrath against the King of Wurtemberg. The King of Prussia promoted Prince Paul to the rank of general, but he was captured right at the beginning of the conflict. Contrary to what has been wrongly reported, he was not escorted to Stuttgart by a gendarmerie captain. He came to Hamburg, where I received numerous visits from him. He didn't have a clear sense of what he wanted; after being captured, he shared with me his strong desire to join the French army and often asked me to arrange a meeting with the Emperor for him. He got this meeting and spent a significant amount of time in Paris, where I know he has often stayed since the Restoration.







      The individuals whom I had to observe in Hamburg gave me much less trouble
      than our neighbours at Altona. The number of the latter had considerably
      augmented, since the events of the war had compelled a great number of
      emigrants who had taken refuge at Munster to leave that town. They all
      proceeded to Altona. Conquered countries became as dangerous to them as
      the land which they had forsaken. The most distinguished amongst the
      individuals assembled at Altona were Vicomte de Sesmaisons, the Bailly
      d'Hautefeuille, the Duchess of Luxembourg, the Marquis de Bonnard, the Duc
      d'Aumont (then Duc de Villequier), the wife of Marshal de Brogue and her
      daughter, Cardinal de Montmorency, Madame de Cosse, her two daughters and
      her son (and a priest), and the Bishop of Boulogne.
    
The people I had to observe in Hamburg caused me much less trouble than our neighbors in Altona. The number of those neighbors had greatly increased since the war forced many emigrants who had found refuge in Munster to leave that town. They all moved to Altona. The conquered lands became as unsafe for them as the places they had left behind. The most notable individuals gathered in Altona were Vicomte de Sesmaisons, Bailly d'Hautefeuille, Duchess of Luxembourg, Marquis de Bonnard, Duc d'Aumont (then Duc de Villequier), the wife of Marshal de Brogue and her daughter, Cardinal de Montmorency, Madame de Cosse, her two daughters and her son (along with a priest), and the Bishop of Boulogne.







      Bonaparte stayed long enough at Berlin to permit of the arrival of a
      deputation from the French Senate to congratulate him on his first
      triumphs. I learned that in this instance the Senatorial deputation,
      departing from its accustomed complaisance, ventured not to confine itself
      to compliments and felicitations, but went so far as to interfere with the
      Emperor's plan of the campaign, to speak of the danger that might be
      incurred and finally to express a desire to in passing the Oder, see peace
      concluded. Napoleon received this communication with a very bad grace. He
      thought the Senators very bold to meddle with his affairs, treated the
      conscript fathers of France as if they had been inconsiderate youths,
      protested, according to custom, his sincere love of peace, and told the
      deputation that it was Prussia, backed by Russia, and not he, who wished
      for war!
    
Bonaparte stayed in Berlin long enough for a delegation from the French Senate to arrive and congratulate him on his initial victories. I learned that this time, the Senate delegation, breaking from their usual flattery, didn't just stick to compliments and celebrations; they actually interfered with the Emperor's campaign plans, pointed out the potential dangers, and expressed a wish to see peace established before crossing the Oder. Napoleon received this message with great displeasure. He thought the Senators were quite audacious to meddle in his affairs, treated the esteemed leaders of France as if they were thoughtless youngsters, insisted as usual on his genuine desire for peace, and told the delegation that it was Prussia, with Russia's support, that wanted war, not him!







      All the German Princes who had taken part against Napoleon fled to Altona
      after the battle of Jena with as much precipitation as the emigrants
      themselves. The Hereditary Prince of Weimar, the Duchess of Holstein,
      Prince Belmonte-Pignatelli, and a multitude of other persons distinguished
      for rank and fortune, arrived there almost simultaneously. Among the
      persons who took refuge in Altona were some intriguers, of whom
      Fauche-Borel was one. I remember receiving a report respecting a violent
      altercation which Fauche had the audacity to enter into with Comte de
      Gimel because he could not extort money from the Count in payment of his
      intrigues. Comte de Gimel had only funds for the payment of pensions, and,
      besides, he had too much sense to suppose there was any utility in the
      stupid pamphlets of Fauche-Borel, and therefore he dismissed him with a
      refusal. Fauche was insolent, which compelled Comte de Gimel to send him
      about his business as he deserved. This circumstance, which was first
      communicated to me in a report, has since been confirmed by a person who
      witnessed the scene. Fauche-Borel merely passed through Hamburg, and
      embarked for London on board the same ship which took Lord Morpeth back to
      England.
    
All the German princes who had fought against Napoleon fled to Altona after the battle of Jena as quickly as the emigrants themselves. The Hereditary Prince of Weimar, the Duchess of Holstein, Prince Belmonte-Pignatelli, and many others known for their status and wealth arrived there almost at the same time. Among those who sought refuge in Altona was a group of schemers, including Fauche-Borel. I recall receiving a report about a heated argument Fauche had the nerve to initiate with Comte de Gimel because he couldn’t get any money from the Count for his schemes. Comte de Gimel only had money for pensions and was too sensible to believe there was any value in Fauche-Borel's foolish pamphlets, so he turned him down. Fauche was disrespectful, which led Comte de Gimel to send him on his way as he deserved. This incident, which was initially shared with me in a report, has since been confirmed by someone who witnessed the exchange. Fauche-Borel just passed through Hamburg and boarded the same ship that took Lord Morpeth back to England.






 —[Louis Fauche-Borel (1762-1829), a Swiss who devoted himself to
   the cause of the Royalists. As Louis stepped on the shore of France
   in 1814, Fauche-Borel was ready to assist him from the boat, and was
   met with the gracious remark that he was always at hand when a
   service was required. His services were however left unrewarded]— 
—[Louis Fauche-Borel (1762-1829), a Swiss who dedicated himself to the Royalist cause. When Louis arrived on the shores of France in 1814, Fauche-Borel was ready to help him from the boat, and was greeted with the kind words that he was always there when a service was needed. However, his help went unrecognized]—








 


 




















      CHAPTER VIII.
    



      1806.
    
1806.


   Alarm of the city of Hamburg—The French at Bergdorf—Favourable
   orders issued by Bernadotte—Extortions in Prussia—False
   endorsements—Exactions of the Dutch—Napoleon's concern for his
   wounded troops—Duroc's mission to the King of Prussia—Rejection of
   the Emperor's demands—My negotiations at Hamburg—Displeasure of
   the King of Sweden—M. Netzel and M. Wetteratedt.

   Alarm in the city of Hamburg—The French at Bergdorf—Favorable
   orders issued by Bernadotte—Extortions in Prussia—False
   endorsements—Exactions from the Dutch—Napoleon's concern for his
   wounded troops—Duroc's mission to the King of Prussia—Rejection of
   the Emperor's demands—My negotiations in Hamburg—Displeasure of
   the King of Sweden—M. Netzel and M. Wetteratedt.







      At this critical moment Hamburg was menaced on all sides; the French even
      occupied a portion of its territory. The French troops, fortunately for
      the country, were attached to the corps commanded by the Prince de
      Ponte-Corvo. This military occupation alarmed the town of Hamburg, to
      which, indeed, it proved very injurious. I wrote to Marshal Bernadotte on
      the subject. The grounds on which the Senate appealed for the evacuation
      of their territory were such that Bernadotte could not but acknowledge
      their justice. The prolonged stay of the French troops in the bailiwick of
      Bergdorf, which had all the appearance of an occupation, might have led to
      the confiscation of all Hamburg property in England, to the laying an
      embargo on the vessels of the Republic, and consequently to the ruin of a
      great part of the trade of France and Holland, which was carried on under
      the flag of Hamburg. There was no longer any motive for occupying the
      bailiwick of Bergdorf when there were no Prussians in that quarter. It
      would have been an absurd misfortune that eighty men stationed in that
      bailiwick should, for the sake of a few louis and a few ells of English
      cloth, have occasioned the confiscation of Hamburg, French, and Dutch
      property to the amount of 80,000,000 francs.
    
At this critical moment, Hamburg was threatened from all sides; the French even occupied part of its territory. Luckily for the country, the French troops were part of the forces commanded by Prince de Ponte-Corvo. This military presence alarmed the town of Hamburg and was quite damaging to it. I wrote to Marshal Bernadotte about this issue. The reasons the Senate gave for requesting the evacuation of their territory were so valid that Bernadotte had to acknowledge their fairness. The extended presence of French troops in the bailiwick of Bergdorf, which seemed very much like an occupation, could have led to the confiscation of all Hamburg property in England, an embargo on the republic's ships, and ultimately the ruin of a large part of the trade of France and Holland that was conducted under the Hamburg flag. There was no longer any reason to occupy the bailiwick of Bergdorf when there were no Prussians in the area. It would have been an absurd disaster for eighty soldiers stationed there to cause the confiscation of Hamburg, French, and Dutch property worth 80,000,000 francs just for a few louis and some yards of English cloth.







      Marshal Bernadotte replied to me on the 16th of November, and said, "I
      hasten to inform you that I have given orders for the evacuation of the
      bailiwick of Bergdorf and all the Hamburg territory. If you could obtain
      from the Senate of Hamburg, by the 19th of this month, two or three
      thousand pairs of shoes, you would oblige me greatly. They shall be paid
      for in goods or in money."
    
Marshal Bernadotte responded to me on November 16th, saying, "I’m eager to let you know that I’ve ordered the evacuation of the Bergdorf region and all of Hamburg. If you could secure two or three thousand pairs of shoes from the Hamburg Senate by the 19th of this month, I would greatly appreciate it. They will be paid for in goods or cash."







      I obtained what Bernadotte required from the Senate, who knew his
      integrity, while they were aware that that quality was not the
      characteristic of all who commanded the French armies! What extortions
      took place during the occupation of Prussia! I will mention one of the
      means which, amongst others, was employed at Berlin to procure money.
      Bills of exchange were drawn, on which endorsements were forged, and these
      bills were presented to the bankers on whom they were purported to be
      drawn. One day some of these forged bills to a large amount were presented
      to Messrs. Mathiesen and Silleine of Hamburg, who, knowing the endorsement
      to be forged, refused to cash them. The persons who presented the bills
      carried their impudence so far as to send for the gendarmes, but the
      bankers persisted in their refusal. I was informed of this almost
      incredible scene, which had drawn together a great number of people.
      Indignant at such audacious robbery, I instantly proceeded to the spot and
      sent away the gendarmes, telling them it was not their duty to protect
      robbers, and that it was my business to listen to any just claims which
      might be advanced. Under Clarke's government at Berlin the inhabitants
      were subjected to all kinds of oppression and exaction. Amidst these
      exactions and infamous proceedings, which are not the indispensable
      consequences of war, the Dutch generals distinguished themselves by a
      degree of rapacity which brought to mind the period of the French
      Republican peculations in Italy. It certainly was not their new King who
      set the example of this conduct. His moderation was well known, and it was
      as much the result of his disposition as of his honest principles. Louis
      Bonaparte, who was a King in spite of himself, afforded an example of all
      that a good man could suffer upon a usurped throne.
    
I got what Bernadotte needed from the Senate, who trusted his integrity, aware that not everyone leading the French armies had that quality! The extortion that happened during the occupation of Prussia was shocking! I’ll mention one way they tried to get money in Berlin. They forged endorsements on bills of exchange and presented them to the banks they were supposedly drawn on. One day, some of these forged bills, amounting to a large sum, were submitted to Messrs. Mathiesen and Silleine in Hamburg. They recognized the signatures were fake and refused to cash them. The people who presented the bills were so bold that they called the gendarmes, but the bankers stood firm in their refusal. I heard about this almost unbelievable scene, which attracted a large crowd. Outraged by such brazen theft, I quickly went to the scene and sent the gendarmes away, telling them it wasn’t their job to protect thieves and that it was my responsibility to consider any legitimate claims that came forward. Under Clarke's rule in Berlin, the residents faced all sorts of oppression and demands. Amid these abuses, which aren't the necessary outcomes of war, the Dutch generals showed a level of greed reminiscent of the French Republicans’ thefts in Italy. It certainly wasn’t their new King who set this example. His moderation was well known, and it stemmed from his character as much as his honest values. Louis Bonaparte, who was a King despite himself, demonstrated all that a good man could endure on a usurped throne.







      When the King of Prussia found himself defeated at every point he bitterly
      repented having undertaken a war which had delivered his States into
      Napoleon's power in less time than that in which Austria had fallen the
      preceding year. He wrote to the Emperor, soliciting a suspension of
      hostilities. Rapp was present when Napoleon received the King of Prussia's
      letter. "It is too late," said he; "but, no matter, I wish to stop the
      effusion of blood; I am ready to agree to anything which is not
      prejudicial to the honour or interests of the nation." Then calling Duroc,
      he gave him orders to visit the wounded, and see that they wanted for
      nothing. He added, "Visit every man on my behalf; give them all the
      consolation of which they stand in need; afterwards find the King of
      Prussia, and if he offers reasonable proposals let me know them."
    
When the King of Prussia realized he was losing on all fronts, he deeply regretted starting a war that had handed his territories over to Napoleon in less time than it took Austria to fall the previous year. He wrote to the Emperor, asking for a halt to the fighting. Rapp was there when Napoleon got the King of Prussia's letter. "It's too late," he said, "but still, I want to stop the bloodshed; I’m willing to agree to anything that doesn’t harm the honor or interests of the nation." Then he called Duroc and ordered him to visit the wounded, making sure they had everything they needed. He added, "Check on each man for me; provide them with all the comfort they require; then find the King of Prussia, and if he makes reasonable offers, let me know."







      Negotiations were commenced, but Napoleon's conditions were of a nature
      which was considered inadmissible. Prussia still hoped for assistance from
      the Russian forces. Besides, the Emperor's demands extended to England,
      who at that moment had no reason to accede to the pretensions of France.
      The Emperor wished England to restore to France the colonies which she had
      captured since the commencement of the war, that Russia should restore to
      the Porte Moldavia and Wallachia, which she then occupied; in short, he
      acted upon the advice which some tragedy-king gives to his ambassador:
      "Demand everything, that you may obtain nothing." The Emperor's demands
      were, in fact, so extravagant that it was scarcely possible he himself
      could entertain the hope of their being accepted. Negotiations,
      alternately resumed and abandoned, were carried on with coldness on both
      sides until the moment when England prevailed on Russia to join Prussia
      against France; they then altogether ceased: and it was for the sake of
      appearing to wish for their renewal, on bases still more favourable to
      France, that Napoleon sent Duroc to the King of Prussia. Duroc found the
      King at Osterode, on the other side of the Vistula. The only answer he
      received from His Majesty was, "The time is passed;" which was very much
      like Napoleon's observation; "It is too late."
    
Negotiations began, but Napoleon's conditions were considered unacceptable. Prussia still hoped for help from the Russian forces. Plus, the Emperor's demands included England, which at that moment had no reason to agree to France's claims. The Emperor wanted England to return the colonies it had captured since the war started and for Russia to return Moldavia and Wallachia, which it was occupying at the time; in short, he followed the advice a certain tragic king gives to his ambassador: "Demand everything, so you end up with nothing." The Emperor's demands were so outrageous that it was hard to believe he actually thought they would be accepted. Negotiations, which were repeatedly started and then stopped, were handled with indifference by both sides until England convinced Russia to ally with Prussia against France; after that, all talks ceased. To maintain the appearance of wanting to renew negotiations on even more favorable terms for France, Napoleon sent Duroc to the King of Prussia. Duroc found the King in Osterode, on the other side of the Vistula. The only response he got from His Majesty was, "The time has passed," which was very much like Napoleon's remark, "It is too late."







      Whilst Duroc was on his mission to the King of Prussia I was myself
      negotiating at Hamburg. Bonaparte was very anxious to detach Sweden from
      the coalition, and to terminate the war with her by a separate treaty.
      Sweden, indeed, was likely to be very useful to him if Prussia, Russia,
      and England should collect a considerable mass of troops in the north.
      Denmark was already with us, and by gaining over Sweden also the union of
      those two powers might create a diversion, and give serious alarm to the
      coalition, which would be obliged to concentrate its principal force to
      oppose the attack of the grand army in Poland. The opinions of M. Peyron,
      the Swedish Minister at Hamburg, were decidedly opposed to the war in
      which his sovereign was engaged with France. I was sorry that this
      gentleman left Hamburg upon leave of absence for a year just at the moment
      I received my instructions from the Emperor upon this subject. M. Peyron
      was succeeded by M. Netzel, and I soon had the pleasure of perceiving that
      his opinions corresponded in every respect with those of his predecessor.
    
While Duroc was on his mission to the King of Prussia, I was negotiating in Hamburg. Bonaparte was very eager to pull Sweden away from the coalition and to end the war with a separate treaty. Sweden could be very helpful to him if Prussia, Russia, and England gathered a large number of troops in the north. Denmark was already on our side, and by bringing Sweden in as well, the alliance of these two powers could create a distraction and seriously worry the coalition, which would have to focus its main force to counter the grand army's attack in Poland. M. Peyron, the Swedish Minister in Hamburg, was strongly against the war his king was involved in with France. I regretted that this gentleman left Hamburg for a yearlong leave of absence just as I received my instructions from the Emperor regarding this matter. M. Peyron was replaced by M. Netzel, and I quickly realized that his views matched those of his predecessor in every way.







      As soon as he arrived M. Netzel sought an interview to speak to me on the
      subject of the Swedes, who had been taken prisoners on the Drave. He
      entreated me to allow the officers to return to Sweden on their parole. I
      was anxious to get Netzel's demand acceded to, and availed myself of that
      opportunity to lead him gradually to the subject of my instructions. I had
      good reason to be satisfied with the manner in which he received my first
      overtures. I said nothing to him of the justice of which he was not
      previously convinced. I saw he understood that his sovereign would have
      everything to gain by a reconciliation with France, and he told me that
      all Sweden demanded peace. Thus encouraged, I told him frankly that I was
      instructed to treat with him. M. Netzel assured me that M. de Wetterstedt,
      the King of Sweden's private secretary, with whom he was intimate, and
      from whom he showed me several letters, was of the same opinion on the
      subject as himself. He added, that he had permission to correspond with
      the King, and that he would; write the same evening to his sovereign and
      M.. de Wetterstedt to acquaint them with our conversation.
    
As soon as he arrived, M. Netzel asked for a meeting to discuss the Swedes who had been captured on the Drave. He urged me to let the officers return to Sweden under parole. I was eager to agree to Netzel's request and took that chance to gradually steer the conversation towards my instructions. I had every reason to be pleased with how he responded to my initial overtures. I didn’t mention anything about the justice he wasn’t already convinced of. I could see he understood that his king would benefit from mending ties with France, and he told me that Sweden was seeking peace. Feeling encouraged, I told him openly that I was instructed to negotiate with him. M. Netzel assured me that M. de Wetterstedt, the private secretary to the King of Sweden, who was a close friend of his and from whom he showed me several letters, shared the same view. He added that he had permission to communicate with the King and would write to him and M. de Wetterstedt that very evening to inform them about our discussion.







      It will be perceived, from what I have stated, that no negotiation was
      ever commenced under more favourable auspices; but who could foresee what
      turn the King of Sweden would take? That unlucky Prince took M. Netzel's
      letter in very ill part, and M. de Wetterstedt himself received peremptory
      orders to acquaint M. Netzel with his sovereign's displeasure at his
      having presumed to visit a French Minster, and, above all, to enter into a
      political conversation with him, although it was nothing more than
      conversation. The King did not confine himself to reproaches; M. Netzel
      came in great distress to inform me he had received orders to quit Hamburg
      immediately, without even awaiting the arrival of his successor. He
      regarded his disgrace as complete. I had the pleasure of seeing M. Netzel
      again in 1809 at Hamburg, where he was on a mission from King Charles
      XIII.
    
From what I’ve said, it’s clear that no negotiation ever started under better conditions; but who could have predicted what the King of Sweden would do? That unfortunate prince took M. Netzel's letter very badly, and M. de Wetterstedt received strict orders to inform M. Netzel of his ruler's anger at his having dared to meet with a French Minister and, most importantly, to engage in a political discussion with him, even though it was really just a conversation. The King didn’t just limit himself to criticisms; M. Netzel came to me in great distress to tell me he had been ordered to leave Hamburg immediately, without waiting for his successor to arrive. He saw his disgrace as total. I had the pleasure of seeing M. Netzel again in 1809 in Hamburg, where he was on a mission from King Charles XIII.








 


 




















      CHAPTER IX.
    



      1806
    
1806


   The Continental system—General indignation excited by it—Sale of
   licences by the French Government—Custom-house system at Hamburg—
   My letter to the Emperor—Cause of the rupture with Russia—
   Bernadotte's visit to me—Trial by court-martial for the purchase of
   a sugar-loaf—Davoust and the captain "rapporteur"—Influence of the
   Continental system on Napoleon's fall.

The Continental system—General outrage caused by it—Sale of licenses by the French Government—Customs system at Hamburg—My letter to the Emperor—Reason for the break with Russia—Bernadotte's visit to me—Court-martial for buying a sugar loaf—Davoust and the reporting captain—Impact of the Continental system on Napoleon's downfall.







      I have a few remarks to make on the famous Continental system, which was a
      subject of such engrossing interest. I had, perhaps, better opportunities
      than any other person of observing the fraud and estimating the fatal
      consequences of this system. It took its rise during the war in 1806, and
      was brought into existence by a decree; dated from Berlin. The project was
      conceived by weak counsellors, who; perceiving the Emperor's just
      indignation at the duplicity of England, her repugnance to enter, into
      negotiations with him, and her constant endeavours to raise enemies
      against France, prevailed upon him to issue the decree, which I could only
      regard as an act of madness and tyranny. It was not a decree, but fleets,
      that were wanting. Without a navy it was ridiculous to declare the British
      Isles in a state of blockade, whilst the English fleets were in fact
      blockading all the French ports. This declaration was, however, made in
      the Berlin Decree. This is what was called the Continental system! which,
      in plain terms, was nothing but a system of fraud and pillage.
    
I have a few comments to make about the famous Continental system, which was such an interesting topic. I probably had better opportunities than anyone else to see the deception and understand the dire consequences of this system. It started during the war in 1806 and was established by a decree from Berlin. The idea came from weak advisors who, seeing the Emperor's justified anger at England's deceit, her refusal to negotiate with him, and her ongoing efforts to incite enemies against France, convinced him to issue the decree, which I could only see as an act of madness and tyranny. What was needed was not a decree, but fleets. Without a navy, it was absurd to declare the British Isles blockaded while the English fleets were actually blockading all the French ports. Nonetheless, this declaration was made in the Berlin Decree. This was what they called the Continental system! In simple terms, it was just a scheme of deception and plunder.







      One can now scarcely conceive how Europe could for a single day endure
      that fiscal tyranny which extorted exorbitant prices for articles which
      the habits of three centuries had rendered indispensable to the poor as
      well as to the rich. So little of truth is there in the pretence that this
      system had for its sole and exclusive object to prevent the sale of
      English goods, that licences for their disposal were procured at a high
      price by whoever was rich enough to pay for them. The number and quality
      of the articles exported from France were extravagantly exaggerated. It
      was, indeed, necessary to take out some of the articles is compliance with
      the Emperor's wishes, but they were only thrown into the sea. And yet no
      one had the honesty to tell the Emperor that England sold on the continent
      but bought scarcely anything. The speculation in licences was carried to a
      scandalous extent only to enrich a few, and to satisfy the short-sighted
      views of the contrivers of the system.
    
It's hard to imagine how Europe could tolerate the fiscal oppression that charged outrageously high prices for goods that had become essential to both the poor and the rich over three centuries. The claim that this system was solely meant to stop the sale of English goods is far from the truth, as licenses to sell them were bought at a high cost by anyone wealthy enough. The amount and quality of goods exported from France were ridiculously inflated. While it was necessary to surrender some items to meet the Emperor's demands, they were often just discarded in the sea. Yet, no one had the integrity to inform the Emperor that England sold a lot on the continent but hardly bought anything. The trading of licenses became scandalous, benefiting only a few and catering to the shortsighted agendas of those who created the system.







      This system proves what is written in the annals of the human heart and
      mind, that the cupidity of the one is insatiable, and the errors of the
      other incorrigible. Of this I will cite an example, though it refers to a
      period posterior to the origin of the Continental system. In Hamburg, in
      1811, under Davoust's government, a poor man had well-nigh been shot for
      having introduced into the department of the Elbe a small loaf of sugar
      for the use of his family, while at the same moment Napoleon was perhaps
      signing a licence for the importation of a million of sugar-loaves.
    
This system shows what’s been noted in the hearts and minds of people: that one person's greed is endless, and the mistakes of others are impossible to correct. I’ll give an example, even though it took place after the start of the Continental system. In Hamburg, in 1811, under Davoust’s rule, a poor man nearly got shot for bringing a small loaf of sugar into the Elbe region for his family, while at the same time, Napoleon was probably signing a permit to import a million sugar loaves.






 —[In this same year (1811) Murat, as King of Naples, not only
   winked at the infringement of the Continental system, but almost
   openly broke the law himself. His troops in Calabria and all round
   his immense line sea coast, carried on an active trade with Sicilian
   and English smugglers. This was so much the case that an officer
   never set out from Naples to join, without, being, requested by his
   wife, his relations or friends, to bring them some English muslins,
   some sugar and coffee, together with a few needles, pen-knives, and
   razors. Some of the Neapolitan officers embarked in really large
   commercial operations, going shares with the custom house people who
   were there to enforce the law, and making their soldiers load and
   unload the contraband vessels. The Comte de ——-, a French officer
   on Murat's staff, was very noble, but very poor, and excessively
   extravagant. After making several vain efforts to set him up in the
   world, the King told him one day he would give him the command of
   the troops round the Gulf of Salerno; adding that the devil was in
   it if he could not make a fortune in such a capital smuggling
   district, in a couple of years.—The Count took the hint, and did
   make a fortune.—Editor 1836 edition.]— 
—[In the same year (1811), Murat, as King of Naples, not only overlooked the violations of the Continental system but almost openly broke the law himself. His troops in Calabria and along his vast coastline were actively trading with Sicilian and English smugglers. It got to the point where an officer would never leave Naples without being asked by his wife, relatives, or friends to bring back some English muslins, sugar, and coffee, along with a few needles, penknives, and razors. Some Neapolitan officers got involved in large-scale commercial operations, teaming up with customs officials who were supposed to enforce the law, and having their soldiers load and unload the smuggled goods. The Comte de ———, a French officer on Murat's staff, was quite noble but very poor and excessively extravagant. After several unsuccessful attempts to help him financially, the King one day told him he would give him command of the troops around the Gulf of Salerno, adding that it would be surprising if he couldn’t make a fortune in such a prime smuggling area within a couple of years. —The Count took the hint and did indeed make a fortune. —Editor 1836 edition.]—







      Smuggling on a small scale was punished with death, whilst the Government
      themselves carried it on extensively. The same cause filled the Treasury
      with money, and the prisons with victims:
    
Smuggling on a small scale was punished with death, while the Government themselves engaged in it extensively. This same situation filled the Treasury with cash and the prisons with victims:







      The custom-house laws of this period, which waged open war against
      rhubarb, and armed the coasts of the Continent against the introduction of
      senna, did not save the Continental system from destruction. Ridicule
      attended the installation of the odious prevotal courts. The president of
      the Prevotal Court at Hamburg, who was a Frenchman, delivered an address,
      in which he endeavoured to prove that in the time of the Ptolemies there
      had existed extraordinary fiscal tribunals, and that it was to those Egypt
      owed her prosperity. Terror was thus introduced by the most absurd folly.
      The ordinary customhouse officers, formerly so much abhorred in Hamburg,
      declared with reason that they would soon be regretted, and than the
      difference between them and the prevotal courts would soon be felt.
      Bonaparte's counsellors led him to commit the folly of requiring that a
      ship which had obtained a licence should export merchandise equivalent to
      that of the colonial produce to be imported under the authority of the
      licence. What was the consequence? The speculators bought at a low price
      old stores of silk-which change of fashion had made completely unsaleable,
      and as those articles were prohibited in England they were thrown into the
      sea without their loss being felt. The profits of the speculation made
      ample amends for the sacrifice. The Continental system was worthy only of
      the ages of ignorance and barbarism, and had it been admissible in theory,
      was impracticable in application.
    
The customs laws of this time openly targeted rhubarb and fortified the coasts of the Continent against the import of senna, but they didn't save the Continental system from failure. The installation of the hated prevotal courts was met with mockery. The president of the Prevotal Court in Hamburg, a Frenchman, gave a speech attempting to argue that during the time of the Ptolemies, extraordinary tax tribunals existed, and it was those that brought prosperity to Egypt. This absurdity introduced fear. The regular customs officers, once despised in Hamburg, rightly claimed they would soon be missed and that the differences between them and the prevotal courts would soon be noticeable. Bonaparte's advisors foolishly insisted that a ship with a license must export goods equal in value to the colonial products being imported under that license. What happened? Speculators bought up old silk stocks that were no longer sellable due to changing fashions, and since those goods were banned in England, they were tossed into the sea without anyone caring about the loss. The profits from this speculation made it worth the sacrifice. The Continental system was only fit for the days of ignorance and barbarism; even if it was theoretically acceptable, it was impossible to implement.






 —[Sydney Smith was struck with the, ridiculous side of the war of
   tariffs: "We are told that the Continent is to be reconquered by the
   want of rhubarb and plums." (Essays of Sydney Smith, p. 533, edition
   of 1861).]— 
 —[Sydney Smith was struck by the ridiculous aspect of the tariff war: "We're told that the Continent is going to be reconquered because of a lack of rhubarb and plums." (Essays of Sydney Smith, p. 533, edition of 1861).]—







      It cannot be sufficiently stigmatised. They were not the friends of the
      Emperor who recommended a system calculated to rouse the indignation of
      Europe, and which could not fail to create reaction. To tyrannize over the
      human species, and to exact uniform admiration and submission, is to
      require an impossibility. It would seem that fate, which had still some
      splendid triumphs in store for Bonaparte, intended to prepare beforehand
      the causes which were to deprive him of all his triumphs at once, and
      plunge him into reverses even greater than the good fortune which had
      favoured his elevation.
    
It can't be condemned enough. The people who weren’t really the Emperor's friends suggested a system designed to provoke outrage across Europe, which was bound to backfire. To oppress humanity and demand constant admiration and obedience is to ask for something impossible. It appears that fate, which still had some remarkable victories in store for Bonaparte, was also setting up the reasons that would strip him of all his successes at once and lead him to face setbacks even worse than the fortune that had helped him rise.







      The prohibition of trade, the habitual severity in the execution of this
      odious system, made it operate like a Continental impost. I will give a
      proof of this, and I state nothing but what came under my own observation.
      The fiscal regulations were very rigidly enforced at Hamburg, and along
      the two lines of Cuxhaven and Travemunde. M. Eudel, the director of that
      department, performed his duty with zeal and disinterestedness. I feel
      gratified in rendering him this tribute. Enormous quantities of English
      merchandise and colonial produce were accumulated at Holstein, where they
      almost all arrived by way of Kiel and Hudsum, and were smuggled over the
      line at the expense of a premium of 33 and 40 per cent. Convinced of this
      fact by a thousand proofs, and weary of the vexations of the preventive
      system, I took upon myself to lay my opinions on the subject before the
      Emperor. He had given me permission to write to him personally, without
      any intermediate agency, upon everything that I might consider essential
      to his service. I sent an extraordinary courier to Fontainebleau, where he
      then was, and in my despatch I informed him that, notwithstanding his
      preventive guard, every prohibited article was smuggled in because the
      profits on the sale in Germany, Poland, Italy, and even France, into which
      the contrabrand goods found their way, were too considerable not to induce
      persons to incur all risks to obtain them. I advised him, at the very time
      he was about to unite the Hanse Towns to the French Empire, to permit
      merchandise to be imported subject to a duty of 33 per cent., which was
      about equal to the amount of the premium for insurance. The Emperor
      adopted my advice without hesitation, and in 1811 the regulation produced
      a revenue of upwards of 60,000,000 francs in Hamburg alone.
    
The ban on trade and the usual harshness in enforcing this detestable system made it feel like a continental tax. I will provide proof of this, and I’m only stating what I have personally witnessed. The tax regulations were strictly enforced in Hamburg and along the routes from Cuxhaven and Travemünde. M. Eudel, the director of that department, carried out his duties with enthusiasm and selflessness. I feel pleased to acknowledge this. Huge amounts of English goods and colonial products were piled up in Holstein, most of which came through Kiel and Hudsum, and were smuggled across the border with a markup of 33 to 40 percent. Convinced of this fact through countless pieces of evidence and tired of the frustrations caused by the preventive system, I decided to share my thoughts on the matter with the Emperor. He had allowed me to write to him directly about anything I deemed important for his service. I sent an extraordinary courier to Fontainebleau, where he was at the time, and in my message, I informed him that, despite his preventive measures, every banned item was being smuggled in because the profits from selling in Germany, Poland, Italy, and even France, where the contraband goods ended up, were too significant to deter people from taking the risks to obtain them. I suggested that, just as he was about to integrate the Hanse Towns into the French Empire, he should allow goods to be imported with a duty of 33 percent, which was roughly the cost of insuring them. The Emperor accepted my suggestion without hesitation, and by 1811, the regulation generated over 60,000,000 francs in revenue just in Hamburg.







      This system, however, embroiled us with Sweden and Russia, who could not
      endure that Napoleon should enact a strict blockade from them, whilst he
      was himself distributing licences in abundance. Bernadotte, on his way to
      Sweden, passed through Hamburg in October 1810. He stayed with me three
      days, during which time he scarcely saw any person but myself. He asked my
      opinion as to what he should do in regard to the Continental system. I did
      not hesitate to declare to him, not as a French Minister, but as a private
      individual to his friend, that in his place, at the head of a poor nation,
      which could only subsist by the exchange of its territorial productions
      with England, I would open my ports, and give the Swedes gratuitously that
      general licence which Bonaparte sold in detail to intrigue and cupidity.
    
This system, however, got us caught up with Sweden and Russia, who couldn’t stand the fact that Napoleon was imposing a strict blockade on them while he was handing out licenses left and right. Bernadotte, on his way to Sweden, passed through Hamburg in October 1810. He stayed with me for three days and barely saw anyone but me. He asked for my advice on what to do about the Continental system. I didn’t hesitate to tell him, not as a French Minister but as a friend speaking privately, that if I were in his position, leading a struggling nation that could only survive by trading its goods with England, I would open my ports and freely give the Swedes that general license that Bonaparte was selling off piece by piece for profit and greed.







      The Berlin decree could not fail to cause a reaction against the Emperor's
      fortune by raising up whole nations against him. The hurling of twenty
      kings from their thrones would have excited less hatred than this contempt
      for the wants of nations. This profound ignorance of the maxims of
      political economy caused general privation and misery, which in their turn
      occasioned general hostility. The system could only succeed in the
      impossible event of all the powers of Europe honestly endeavouring to
      carry it into effect. A single free port would have destroyed it. In order
      to ensure its complete success it was necessary to conquer and occupy all
      countries, and never to evacuate them. As a means of ruining England it
      was contemptible. It was necessary that all Europe should be compelled by
      force of arms to join this absurd coalition, and that the same force
      should be constantly employed to maintain it. Was this possible? The
      captain "rapporteur" of a court-martial allowed a poor peasant to escape
      the punishment due to the offence of having bought a loaf of sugar beyond
      the custom-house barrier. This officer was some time afterwards at a
      dinner given by Marshal Davoust; the latter said to him, "You have a very
      scrupulous conscience, sir; go to headquarters and you will find an order
      there for you." This order sent him eighty leagues from Hamburg. It is
      necessary to have witnessed, as I have, the numberless vexations and
      miseries occasioned by the unfortunate Continental system to understand
      the mischief its authors did in Europe, and how much that mischief
      contributed to Napoleon's fall.
    
The Berlin decree definitely sparked a backlash against the Emperor's power by rallying entire nations against him. The ousting of twenty kings from their thrones would have generated less animosity than this disregard for the needs of nations. This deep misunderstanding of political economy principles led to widespread suffering and hardship, which in turn fueled widespread resentment. The system could only work if every European power genuinely tried to implement it. Just one free port would have doomed it. To ensure total success, it was essential to conquer and occupy every country and never withdraw from them. As a strategy to defeat England, it was pathetic. All of Europe had to be forced by military might to join this ridiculous coalition, and that same force would need to be constantly deployed to maintain it. Was that even achievable? The officer in charge of a court-martial allowed a poor peasant to avoid punishment for buying a loaf of sugar beyond the customs barrier. Later, at a dinner hosted by Marshal Davoust, the marshal remarked to him, "You have quite the scrupulous conscience, sir; go to headquarters, and you’ll find an order waiting for you." That order sent him eighty leagues from Hamburg. You need to have witnessed, as I have, the countless annoyances and suffering caused by the unfortunate Continental system to grasp the harm its creators inflicted on Europe and how greatly that harm contributed to Napoleon's downfall.






 —[The so-called Continental system was framed by Napoleon in
   revenge for the English very extended system of blockades, after
   Trafalgar had put it out of his power to attempt to keep the seas.
   By these decrees all ports occupied by the French were closed to the
   English, and all English goods were to be destroyed wherever found
   in any country occupied by the French. All States under French
   influence had to adopt this system. It must be remembered that
   Napoleon eventually held or enforced his system on all the
   coastlines of Europe, except that of Spain and Turkey; but as
   Bourrienne shows the plan of giving licences to break his own system
   was too lucrative to be resisted by him, or, still more, by his
   officers. For the working of the system in the occupied lands,
   Laffite the banker told Savary it was a grand idea, but
   impracticable (Savary, tome v. p. 110). The Emperor Alexander is
   reported to have said, after visiting England in 1814, that he
   believed the system would have reduced England if it had lasted
   another year. The English, who claimed the right of blockading any
   coast with but little regard to the effectiveness of the blockade,
   retaliated by orders in Council, the chief of which are dated 7th
   January 1807, and 11th November 1807, by which no ships of any power
   were allowed to trade between any French ports, or the ports of any
   country closed to England. Whatever the real merits of the system,
   and although it was the cause of war between the United States and
   England, its execution did most to damage France and Napoleon, and
   to band all Europe against it. It is curious that even in 1831 a
   treaty had to be made to settle the claims of the United States on
   France for unjust seizures under these decrees.]— 
—[The so-called Continental System was created by Napoleon as revenge for England's extensive system of blockades, after Trafalgar made it impossible for him to control the seas. Through these decrees, all ports occupied by the French were closed to the English, and any English goods found in French-occupied countries were to be destroyed. All states under French influence had to adopt this system. It's important to note that Napoleon eventually enforced his system along all the coastlines of Europe, except for Spain and Turkey; however, as Bourrienne points out, the plan to issue licenses to break his own system was too profitable for him to resist, or even more so, for his officers. Regarding the system's operation in the occupied territories, banker Laffite told Savary it was a great idea but unworkable (Savary, tome v. p. 110). Emperor Alexander reportedly said, after visiting England in 1814, that he believed the system would have weakened England if it had continued for another year. The English, who claimed the right to blockade any coast with little concern for the blockade's effectiveness, retaliated with Orders in Council, the main ones dated January 7, 1807, and November 11, 1807, which prohibited ships of any nation from trading between any French ports or the ports of any country closed to England. Regardless of the system's actual merits, and although it sparked a war between the United States and England, its implementation primarily harmed France and Napoleon, uniting all of Europe against it. Interestingly, even in 1831, a treaty was needed to resolve the United States' claims against France for unjust seizures under these decrees.]—








 


 




















      CHAPTER X.
    



      1806-1807.
    
1806-1807.


   New system of war—Winter quarters—The Emperor's Proclamation—
   Necessity of marching to meet the Russians—Distress in the Hanse
   Towns—Order for 50,000 cloaks—Seizure of Russian corn and timber—
   Murat's entrance into Warsaw—Re-establishment of Poland—Duroc's
   accident—M. de Talleyrand's carriage stopped by the mud—Napoleon's
   power of rousing the spirit of his troops—His mode of dictating—
   The Duke of Mecklenburg-Schwerin—His visits to Hamburg—The Duke of
   Weimar—His letter and present—Journey of the Hereditary Prince of
   Denmark to Paris—Batter, the English spy—Traveling clerks—Louis
   Bonaparte and the Berlin decree—Creation of the Kingdom of Saxony—
   Veneration of Germany for the King of Saxony—The Emperor's
   uncertainty respecting Poland—Fetes and reviews at Warsaw—The
   French Government at the Emperor's head quarters—Ministerial
   portfolios sent to Warsaw.—Military preparations during the month
   of January—Difference of our situation daring the campaigns of
   Vienna and Prussia—News received and sent—Conduct of the Cabinet
   of Austria similar to that of the Cabinet of Berlin—Battle of
   Eylau—Unjust accusation against Bernadotte—Death of General
   d'Hautpoult—Te Deum chanted by the Russians—Gardanne's mission to
   Persia

   New system of warfare—Winter quarters—The Emperor's Proclamation—  
   Need to march to confront the Russians—Struggles in the Hanse  
   Towns—Order for 50,000 cloaks—Seizure of Russian grain and timber—  
   Murat's entry into Warsaw—Re-establishment of Poland—Duroc's  
   accident—M. de Talleyrand's carriage stuck in the mud—Napoleon's  
   ability to inspire his troops—His way of giving orders—  
   The Duke of Mecklenburg-Schwerin—His visits to Hamburg—The Duke of  
   Weimar—His letter and gift—Journey of the Hereditary Prince of  
   Denmark to Paris—Batter, the English spy—Traveling clerks—Louis  
   Bonaparte and the Berlin decree—Creation of the Kingdom of Saxony—  
   Germany's reverence for the King of Saxony—The Emperor's  
   uncertainty about Poland—Festivities and reviews in Warsaw—The  
   French Government at the Emperor's headquarters—Ministerial  
   portfolios sent to Warsaw.—Military preparations during January—  
   Difference in our situation during the campaigns of  
   Vienna and Prussia—News received and sent—The conduct of the  
   Austrian Cabinet similar to that of the Berlin Cabinet—Battle of  
   Eylau—Unfair accusation against Bernadotte—Death of General  
   d'Hautpoult—Te Deum sung by the Russians—Gardanne's mission to  
   Persia







      Bonaparte was not only beyond all comparison the greatest captain of
      modern times, but he may be said to have wrought a complete change in the
      art of war. Before his time the most able generals regulated the fighting
      season by the almanac. It was customary in Europe to brave the cannon's
      mouth only from the first fine days of spring to the last fine days of
      autumn; and the months of rain, snow, and frost were passed in what were
      called winter quarters. Pichegru, in Holland, had set the example of
      indifference to temperature. At Austerlitz, too, Bonaparte had braved the
      severity of winter; this answered his purpose well, and he adopted the
      same course in 1806. His military genius and activity seemed to increase,
      and, proud of his troops, he determined to commence a winter campaign in a
      climate more rigorous than any in which he had yet fought. The men,
      chained to his destiny, were now required to brave the northern blast, as
      they had formerly braved the vertical sun of Egypt. Napoleon, who, above
      all generals, was remarkable for the choice of his fields of battle, did
      not wish to wait tranquilly until the Russian army, which was advancing
      towards Germany, should come to measure its strength with him in the
      plains of conquered Prussia; he resolved to march to meet it, and to reach
      it before it should arose the Vistula; but before he left Berlin to
      explore and conqueror, Poland and the confines of Russia; he addressed a
      proclamation to his troops, in which he stated all that had hitherto been
      achieved by the French army, and at the same time announced his future
      intentions. It was especially advisable that he should march forward, for,
      had he waited until the Russians had passed the Vistula, there could
      probably have been no winter campaign, and he would have been obliged
      either to take up miserable winter quarters between the Vistula and the
      Oder, or to recross the Oder to combat the enemy in Prussia. Napoleon's
      military genius and indefatigable activity served him admirably on this
      occasion, and the proclamation just alluded to, which was dated from
      Berlin before his departure from Charlottenburg; proves that he did not
      act fortuitously, as he frequently did, but that his calculations were
      well-made.
    
Bonaparte was undoubtedly the greatest military leader of modern times, and he can be credited with completely changing the art of war. Before him, the best generals planned their campaigns according to the calendar. In Europe, it was common to engage in battles only from the first nice days of spring to the last nice days of autumn; the rainy, snowy, and frosty months were spent in what were called winter quarters. Pichegru in Holland had set a precedent by ignoring weather conditions. At Austerlitz, Bonaparte also faced the harsh winter; this strategy worked well for him, and he took the same approach in 1806. His military genius and energy seemed to grow, and proud of his soldiers, he decided to launch a winter campaign in an even harsher climate than he had previously encountered. His men, bound to his fate, were now expected to endure the northern cold as they had once endured the blazing sun of Egypt. Napoleon, known for his strategic choice of battlefields, didn’t want to wait calmly for the Russian army, advancing towards Germany, to challenge him in the plains of conquered Prussia; instead, he planned to march to meet them before they crossed the Vistula. Before leaving Berlin to explore and conquer Poland and the borders of Russia, he issued a proclamation to his troops, detailing all that the French army had accomplished so far and outlining his future plans. It was crucial for him to move forward; if he had waited until the Russians crossed the Vistula, a winter campaign would likely have been impossible, forcing him to either take up miserable winter quarters between the Vistula and the Oder or retreat to fight the enemy in Prussia. Napoleon's military brilliance and relentless energy served him well at this time. The proclamation mentioned, dated from Berlin before he left Charlottenburg, shows that he acted with intention rather than chance, as he often did, and that his plans were carefully thought out.






 —[Before leaving the capital of Prussia Bonaparte stole from the
   monument, of Frederick the Great his sword and military orders. He
   also plundered the galleries of Berlin and Potsdam of their best
   pictures and statues, thus continuing the system he had began is
   Italy. All those things he sent to Paris as trophies of victory and
   glory.—Editor of as 1836 edition.]

 —[Before leaving the capital of Prussia, Bonaparte took the sword and military orders from the monument of Frederick the Great. He also looted the galleries of Berlin and Potsdam of their finest paintings and statues, continuing the practice he had started in Italy. He sent all these items to Paris as trophies of victory and glory.—Editor of the 1836 edition.]







      A rapid and immense impulse given to great masses of men by the will of a
      single individual may produce transient lustre and dazzle the eyes of the
      multitude; but when, at a distance from the theatre of glory, we flee only
      the melancholy results which have been produced. The genius of conquest
      can only be regarded as the genius of destruction. What a sad picture was
      often presented to my eyes! I was continually doomed to hear complaints of
      the general distress, and to execute orders which augmented the immense
      sacrifices already made by the city of Hamburg. Thus, for example, the
      Emperor desired me to furnish him with 50,000 cloaks which I immediately
      did. I felt the importance of such an order with the approach of winter,
      and in a climate—the rigour of which our troops had not yet
      encountered. I also received orders to seize at Lübeck (Which town, as I
      have already stated, had been alternately taken and retaken try Blücher
      and Bernadotte) 400,000 lasts of corn,—[A last weighs 2000
      kilogrammes]—and to send them to Magdeburg. This corn belonged to
      Russia. Marshal Mortier, too, had seized some timber for building, which
      also belonged to Russia; and which was estimated at 1,400,000 francs.
    
A quick and massive push given to large groups of people by the will of one person can create a momentary shine and blind the masses; but when we step back from the scene of glory, we only see the sad outcomes that have resulted. The genius of conquering should really be seen as the genius of destruction. What a sad sight often appeared before me! I was always hearing complaints about the widespread suffering and carrying out orders that increased the huge sacrifices already made by the city of Hamburg. For instance, the Emperor asked me to provide him with 50,000 cloaks, which I did immediately. I recognized how important this order was as winter approached, especially in a climate that our troops had not yet faced. I also got orders to seize 400,000 lasts of corn from Lübeck (which, as I mentioned before, had been taken and retaken by Blücher and Bernadotte)—[A last weighs 2,000 kilograms]—and send it to Magdeburg. This corn belonged to Russia. Marshal Mortier had also taken some timber for construction, which again belonged to Russia and was valued at 1,400,000 francs.







      Meanwhile our troops continued to advance with such rapidity that before
      the end of November Murat arrived at Warsaw, at the head of the advanced
      guard of the Grand Army, of which, he had the command. The Emperor's
      headquarters, were then at Posen, and, he received deputations from all
      parts soliciting the re-establishment and independence of the Kingdom of
      Poland.
    
Meanwhile, our troops kept moving forward so quickly that by the end of November, Murat reached Warsaw, leading the advanced guard of the Grand Army, which he commanded. The Emperor's headquarters were in Posen, where he received requests from all over for the restoration and independence of the Kingdom of Poland.







      Rapp informed me that after receiving the deputation from Warsaw the
      Emperor said to him, "I love the Poles; their enthusiastic character
      pleases me; I should like to make them independent, but that is a
      difficult matter. Austria, Russia, and Prussia have all had a slice of the
      cake; when the match is once kindled who knows where, the conflagration
      may stop? My first duty, is towards France, which I must not sacrifice to
      Poland; we must refer this matter to the sovereign of all things—Time,
      he will presently show us what we must do." Had Sulkowsky lived Napoleon
      might have recollected what he had said to him in Egypt, and, in all
      probability he would have raised up a power, the dismemberment of which;
      towards the close of the last century, began to overturn the political
      equilibrium which had subsisted in Europe since the peace of Westphalia in
      1648.
    
Rapp told me that after getting the delegation from Warsaw, the Emperor said to him, "I care for the Poles; their enthusiastic spirit appeals to me; I want to make them independent, but that's a tough situation. Austria, Russia, and Prussia have all taken their shares; once the fire is lit, who knows where it will end? My first responsibility is to France, which I can't sacrifice for Poland; we need to leave this to Time, the ultimate authority—he'll soon show us what we need to do." If Sulkowsky had lived, Napoleon might have remembered what he said to him in Egypt, and most likely he would have established a power, the fragmentation of which; towards the end of the last century, began to disrupt the political balance that had existed in Europe since the peace of Westphalia in 1648.







      It was at the headquarters at Posen that Duroc rejoined the Emperor after
      his mission to the King of Prussia. His carriage overturned on the way,
      and he had the misfortune to break his collar-bone. All the letters I
      received were nothing but a succession of complaints on the bad state of
      the roads. Our troops were absolutely fighting in mud, and it was with
      extreme difficulty that the artillery and caissons of the army could be
      moved along. M. de Talleyrand had been summoned to headquarters by the
      Emperor, in the expectation of treating for peace, and I was informed that
      his carriage stuck in the mud and he was detained on his journey for
      twelve hours. A soldier having asked one of the persons in M. de
      Talleyrand's suite who the traveller was, was informed that he was the
      Minister for Foreign Affairs. "Ah! bah!" said the soldier, "why does he
      come with his diplomacy to such a devil of a country as this?"
    
It was at the headquarters in Posen that Duroc rejoined the Emperor after his mission to the King of Prussia. His carriage overturned on the way, and unfortunately, he broke his collarbone. All the letters I received were just a stream of complaints about the terrible condition of the roads. Our troops were literally fighting in mud, and it was extremely difficult to move the artillery and supply wagons of the army. M. de Talleyrand had been called to headquarters by the Emperor to negotiate peace, and I was told that his carriage got stuck in the mud, delaying him for twelve hours. A soldier, upon asking one of M. de Talleyrand's aides who the traveler was, was told he was the Minister for Foreign Affairs. "Oh really!" said the soldier, "why does he bring his diplomacy to such a hellish place as this?"







      The Emperor entered Warsaw on the 1st of January 1807. Most of the reports
      which he had received previous to his entrance had concurred in describing
      the dissatisfaction of the troops, who for some time had had to contend
      with bad roads, bad weather, and all aorta of privations.' Bonaparte said
      to the generals who informed him that the enthusiasm of his troops had
      been succeeded by dejection and discontent, "Does their spirit fail them
      when they come in sight of the enemy?"—"No, Sire."— "I knew
      it; my troops are always the same." Then turning to Rapp he said, "I must
      rouse them;" and he dictated the following proclamation:
    
The Emperor entered Warsaw on January 1, 1807. Most of the reports he had received before his arrival agreed on the dissatisfaction of the troops, who had been dealing with poor roads, bad weather, and all sorts of hardships for some time. Bonaparte told the generals who informed him that the enthusiasm of his troops had been replaced by low spirits and discontent, "Does their spirit fail them when they see the enemy?"—"No, Sire."—"I knew it; my troops are always the same." Then, turning to Rapp, he said, "I need to motivate them;" and he dictated the following proclamation:






   SOLDIERS—It is a year this very hour since you were on the field of
   Austerlitz, where the Russian battalions fled in disorder, or
   surrendered up their arms to their conquerors. Next day proposals,
   of peace were talked of; but they were deceptive. No sooner had the
   Russians escaped, by perhaps, blamable generosity from the disasters
   of the third coalition than they contrived a fourth. But the ally
   on whose tactics they founded their principal hope was no more. His
   capital, his fortresses; his magazines; his arsenals, 280 flags, and
   700 field-pieces have fallen into our power. The Oder, the Wartha,
   the deserts of Poland, and the inclemency of the season have not for
   a moment retarded your progress. You have braved all; surmounted
   all; every obstacle has fled at your approach. The Russians have in
   vain endeavoured to defend the capital of ancient and illustrious
   Poland. The French eagle hovers over the Vistula. The brave and
   unfortunate Poles, on beholding you, fancied they saw the legions of
   Sobieski, returning from their memorable expedition.

   Soldiers, we will not lay down our arms until a general peace has
   secured the power of our allies and restored to us our colonies and
   our freedom of trade. We have gained on the Elbe and the Oder,
   Pondicherry, our Indian establishments, the Cape of Good Hope, and
   the Spanish colonies. Why should the Russians have the right of
   opposing destiny and thwarting our just designs? They and we are
   still the soldiers who fought at Austerlitz.

SOLDIERS—It has been a year this very hour since you were on the battlefield of Austerlitz, where the Russian troops fled in disarray or surrendered their weapons to their conquerors. The next day, people talked about peace proposals, but they were misleading. Just as the Russians managed to escape, perhaps due to a misguided generosity from the disasters of the third coalition, they plotted a fourth. However, the ally on whom they placed their main hopes was no longer there. His capital, his fortresses, his supply depots, his arsenals, 280 flags, and 700 field guns have fallen into our hands. The Oder, the Wartha, the barren lands of Poland, and the harshness of the season have not slowed your advance for even a moment. You have faced everything; overcome everything; every obstacle has vanished in your presence. The Russians have tried in vain to defend the capital of ancient and distinguished Poland. The French eagle soars over the Vistula. The brave and unfortunate Poles, upon seeing you, believed they saw the legions of Sobieski returning from their famous campaign.

Soldiers, we will not lay down our arms until a general peace has secured the strength of our allies and returned our colonies and our freedom of trade. We have gained on the Elbe and the Oder, Pondicherry, our Indian holdings, the Cape of Good Hope, and the Spanish colonies. Why should the Russians have the right to defy fate and undermine our rightful plans? They and we are still the soldiers who fought at Austerlitz.







      Rapp thus describes the entrance of the French into Warsaw, and adds a few
      anecdotes connected with that event:
    
Rapp describes how the French entered Warsaw and shares a few stories related to that event:






   "At length we entered the Polish capital. The King of Naples had
   preceded us, and had driven the Russians from the city. Napoleon
   was received with enthusiasm. The Poles thought that the moment of
   their regeneration had arrived, and that their wishes were
   fulfilled. It would be difficult to describe the joy thus evinced,
   and the respect with which they treated us. The French troops,
   however, were not quite so well pleased; they manifested the
   greatest repugnance to crossing the Vistula. The idea of want and
   bad weather had inspired them with the greatest aversion to Poland,
   and they were inexhaustible, in their jokes on the country."

   "Eventually, we arrived in the Polish capital. The King of Naples had gotten there ahead of us and had driven the Russians out of the city. Napoleon was welcomed with excitement. The Poles believed that their moment of revival had come and that their dreams were being fulfilled. It’s hard to put into words the joy they showed and the respect they gave us. However, the French troops were not as happy; they showed a strong unwillingness to cross the Vistula River. The thought of hunger and bad weather made them really dislike Poland, and they couldn't stop cracking jokes about the country."







      When Bonaparte dictated his proclamations—and how many have I not
      written from his dictation!—he was for the moment inspired, and he
      evinced all the excitement which distinguishes the Italian improvisatori.
      To follow him it was necessary to write with inconceivable rapidity. When
      I have read over to him what he has dictated I have often known him to
      smile triumphantly at the effect which he expected any particular phrase
      would produce. In general his proclamations turned on three distinct
      points—(1) Praising his soldiers for what they had done; (2)
      pointing out to them what they had yet to do; and (3) abusing his enemies.
      The proclamation to which I have just now alluded was circulated profusely
      through Germany, and it is impossible to conceive the effect it produced.
      on the whole army. The corps stationed in the rear burned too pass, by
      forced marches, the space which still separated them from headquarters;
      and those who were nearer the Emperor forgot their fatigues and privations
      and were only anxious to encounter the enemy. They frequently could not
      understand what Napoleon said in these proclamations; but no matter for
      that, they would have followed him cheerfully barefooted and without
      provisions. Such was the enthusiasm, or rather the fanaticism, which
      Napoleon could inspire among his troops when he thought proper to rouse
      them, as he termed it.
    
When Bonaparte dictated his proclamations—and I've lost count of how many I’ve written for him—he was truly inspired in that moment, showing all the excitement that characterizes Italian improvisers. To keep up with him, you had to write at an unbelievable speed. After I read his dictations back to him, I often saw him smile triumphantly, anticipating the impact a specific phrase would have. Generally, his proclamations focused on three main points—(1) praising his soldiers for their achievements; (2) highlighting what they still needed to accomplish; and (3) criticizing his enemies. The proclamation I just mentioned was distributed widely across Germany, and it’s hard to imagine the effect it had on the entire army. The corps stationed further back rushed forward on forced marches to close the distance to headquarters; those closer to the Emperor shrugged off their fatigue and hardships, eager to engage the enemy. They often didn’t fully grasp what Napoleon meant in these proclamations, but it didn’t matter—they would have followed him gladly, even barefoot and without supplies. Such was the enthusiasm, or rather fanaticism, that Napoleon could instill in his troops when he chose to motivate them, as he called it.







      When, on a former occasion, I spoke of the Duke of, Mecklenburg-Schwerin
      and his family, I forgot a circumstance respecting my intercourse with him
      which now occurs to my memory. When, on his expulsion from his States,
      after the battle of Jena, he took refuge in Altona, he requested, through
      the medium of his Minister at Hamburg, Count von Plessen, that I would
      give him permission occasionally to visit that city. This permission I
      granted without hesitation; but the Duke observed no precaution in his
      visits, and I made some friendly observations to him on the subject. I
      knew the object of his visits. It was a secret connection in Hamburg; but
      in consequence of my observations he removed the lady to Altona, and
      assured me that he adopted that determination to avoid committing me. He
      afterwards came very seldom to Hamburg; but as we were on the best
      understanding with Denmark I frequently saw his daughter, and son-in-law,
      who used to visit me at a house I had in Holstein, near Altona.
    
When I previously talked about the Duke of Mecklenburg-Schwerin and his family, I forgot to mention something about my interactions with him that’s now coming to mind. After he was expelled from his territory following the battle of Jena and took refuge in Altona, he asked, through his Minister in Hamburg, Count von Plessen, if I would allow him to visit the city occasionally. I granted this permission without hesitation, but the Duke didn’t take any precautions during his visits, so I made some friendly comments to him about it. I was aware of the reason for his visits; he had a secret liaison in Hamburg. Due to my comments, he moved the lady to Altona and assured me that he made that choice to avoid putting me in a difficult position. After that, he rarely came to Hamburg, but since our relationship with Denmark was strong, I often saw his daughter and son-in-law, who used to visit me at my house in Holstein, near Altona.







      There I likewise saw, almost every day, the Duke of Weimar, an excellent
      old man. I had the advantage of being on such terms of intimacy with him
      that my house was in some measure his. He also had lost his States. I was
      so happy as to contribute to their restitution, for my situation enabled
      me to exercise some influence on the political indulgences or severities
      of the Government. I entertained a sincere regard for the Duke of Weimar,
      and I greatly regretted his departure. No sooner had he arrived in Berlin
      than he wrote me a letter of, thanks, to which he added the present of a
      diamond, in token of his grateful remembrance of me. The Duke of
      Mecklenburg was not so fortunate as the Duke of Weimar, in spite of his
      alliance with the reigning family of Denmark. He was obliged to remain at
      Altona until the July following, for his States were restored only by the
      Treaty of Tilsit. As soon as it was known that the Emperor had returns to
      Paris the Duke's son, the Hereditary Prince, visited me in Hamburg, and
      asked me whether I thought he could present himself to the Emperor, for
      the purpose of expressing his own and his father's gratitude. He was a
      very well-educated young man. He set out, accompanied by M. Oertzen and
      Baron von Brandstaten. Some time afterwards I saw his name in the
      Moniteur, in one of the lists of presentations to Napoleon, the collection
      of which, during the Empire, might be regarded as a general register of
      the nobility of Europe.
    
There I also saw, almost every day, the Duke of Weimar, a truly great old man. I enjoyed a level of intimacy with him that made my home feel like his own. He had also lost his territories. I was fortunate to help restore them since my position allowed me to have some influence over the government's political leniency or harshness. I had a genuine fondness for the Duke of Weimar, and I deeply regretted his leaving. As soon as he arrived in Berlin, he sent me a letter of thanks, along with a diamond as a token of his appreciation for me. The Duke of Mecklenburg wasn't as lucky as the Duke of Weimar, despite his connection to the reigning family of Denmark. He had to stay in Altona until July of the following year since his territories were only restored by the Treaty of Tilsit. Once it became known that the Emperor had returned to Paris, the Duke's son, the Hereditary Prince, visited me in Hamburg and asked if I thought he could meet with the Emperor to express his and his father's gratitude. He was a very well-educated young man. He set out, accompanied by M. Oertzen and Baron von Brandstaten. Some time later, I saw his name in the Moniteur, among the lists of presentations to Napoleon, which could be seen as a general register of the nobility of Europe during the Empire.







      It is commonly said that we may accustom ourselves to anything, but to me
      this remark is subject to an exception; for, in spite of the necessity to
      which I was reduced of employing spies, I never could surmount the disgust
      I felt at them, especially when I saw men destined to fill a respectable
      rank in society degrade themselves to that infamous profession. It is
      impossible to conceive the artifices to which these men resort to gain the
      confidence of those whom they wish to betray. Of this the following
      example just now occurs to my mind.
    
It's often said that we can get used to anything, but I think there’s an exception to that. Even though I felt forced to use spies, I could never shake off my disgust for them, especially when I saw men who were meant to hold a respectable position in society stoop to that terrible profession. It’s hard to imagine the tricks these men use to earn the trust of those they want to betray. An example comes to mind right now.







      One of those wretches who are employed in certain circumstances, and by
      all parties, came to offer his services to me. His name was Butler, and he
      had been sent from England to the Continent as a spy upon the French
      Government. He immediately came to me, complaining of pretended enemies
      and unjust treatment. He told me he had the greatest wish to serve the
      Emperor, and that he would make any sacrifice to prove his fidelity. The
      real motive of his change of party was, as it is with all such men, merely
      the hope of a higher reward. Most extraordinary were the schemes he
      adopted to prevent his old employers from suspecting that he was serving
      new ones. To me he continually repeated how happy he was to be revenged on
      his enemies in London. He asked me to allow him to go to Paris to be
      examined by the Minister of Police. The better to keep up the deception he
      requested that on his arrival in Paris he might be confined in the Temple,
      and that there might be inserted in the French journals an announcement in
      the following terms:
    
One of those unfortunate souls who get involved in various situations and are used by everyone came to offer his services to me. His name was Butler, and he had been sent from England to the Continent as a spy on the French Government. He immediately approached me, complaining about fake enemies and unfair treatment. He told me he was eager to serve the Emperor and would make any sacrifice to prove his loyalty. The real reason for his change of allegiance was, like with all such people, simply the hope of a bigger reward. His schemes to keep his old employers from suspecting he was working for new ones were quite extraordinary. He constantly repeated to me how happy he was to take revenge on his enemies in London. He asked me to let him go to Paris to be questioned by the Minister of Police. To maintain the deception, he requested that upon his arrival in Paris, he be confined in the Temple, and that an announcement be published in the French newspapers in the following terms:






   "John Butler, commonly called Count Butler, has just been arrested
   and sent to Paris under a good escort by the French Minister at
   Hamburg."

   "John Butler, usually known as Count Butler, has just been arrested and sent to Paris with a solid escort by the French Minister in Hamburg."







      At the expiration of a few weeks Butler, having received his
      instruction's, set out for London, but by way of precaution he said it
      would be well to publish in the journals another announcement; which was
      as follows:
    
At the end of a few weeks, Butler, having received his instructions, set off for London. However, just to be safe, he suggested that it would be a good idea to publish another announcement in the newspapers, which was as follows:






   "John Butler, who has been arrested in Hamburg as an English agent,
   and conveyed to Paris, is ordered to quit France and the territories
   occupied by the French armies and their allies, and not to appear
   there again until the general peace."

   "John Butler, who has been arrested in Hamburg as an English agent, and taken to Paris, is ordered to leave France and the areas controlled by the French armies and their allies, and must not return until there is a general peace."







      In England Butler enjoyed the honours of French prosecution. He was
      regarded as a victim who deserved all the confidence of the enemies of
      France. He furnished Fouché with a considerable amount of information, and
      he was fortunate enough to escape being hanged.
    
In England, Butler received praise for his role in the French prosecution. He was seen as a victim who had the full trust of those opposing France. He provided Fouché with a lot of valuable information, and he was lucky enough to avoid being hanged.







      Notwithstanding the pretended necessity of employing secret agents,
      Bonaparte was unwilling that, even under that pretext, too many
      communications should be established between France and England: Fouché,
      nevertheless, actively directed the evolutions of his secret army. Ever
      ready to seize on anything that could give importance to the police and
      encourage the suspicions of the Emperor, Fouché wrote to me that the
      government had received certain—information that many Frenchmen
      traveling for commercial houses in France were at Manchester purchasing
      articles of English manufacture. This was true; but how was it to be
      prevented? These traveling clerks passed through Holland, where they
      easily procured a passage to England.
    
Despite the claimed need for secret agents, Bonaparte was hesitant to allow too many communications between France and England, even under that excuse. Nevertheless, Fouché actively managed the operations of his secret army. Always looking to find something that could enhance the importance of the police and heighten the Emperor's suspicions, Fouché informed me that the government had received intel indicating that several French nationals working for commercial firms in France were in Manchester buying English-made goods. This was true, but how could it be stopped? These traveling clerks went through Holland, where they could easily secure a passage to England.







      Louis Bonaparte, conceiving that the King of Holland ought to sacrifice
      the interests of his new subjects to the wishes of his brother, was at
      first very lenient as to the disastrous Continental system. But at this
      Napoleon soon manifested his displeasure, and about the end of the year
      1806 Louis was reduced to the necessity of ordering the strict observance
      of the blockade. The facility with which the travelers of French
      commercial houses passed from Holland to England gave rise to other alarms
      on the part of the French Government. It was said that since Frenchmen
      could so easily pass from the Continent to Great Britain, the agents of
      the English Cabinet might, by the same means, find their way to the
      Continent. Accordingly the consuls were directed to keep a watchful eye,
      not only upon individuals who evidently came from England, but upon those
      who might by any possibility come from that country. This plan was all
      very well, but how was it to be put into execution? . . . The Continent
      was, nevertheless, inundated with articles of English manufacture, for
      this simple reason, that, however powerful may be the will of a sovereign,
      it is still less powerful and less lasting than the wants of a people. The
      Continental system reminded me of the law created by an ancient
      legislator, who, for a crime which he conceived could not possibly be
      committed, condemned the person who should be guilty of it to throw a bull
      over Mount Taurus.
    
Louis Bonaparte, believing that the King of Holland should prioritize his brother's wishes over the interests of his new subjects, initially took a lenient approach to the disastrous Continental system. However, Napoleon soon showed his dissatisfaction, and by the end of 1806, Louis had to enforce the strict observance of the blockade. The ease with which travelers from French commercial houses went from Holland to England raised further concerns for the French Government. It was claimed that since French citizens could easily access Great Britain, agents from the British Cabinet might similarly breach the Continent. As a result, consuls were instructed to keep a close watch not only on individuals clearly arriving from England but also on anyone who could potentially come from that country. This plan sounded good, but how could it actually be implemented? . . . The Continent was still flooded with English manufactured goods, simply because, no matter how strong a ruler's will may be, it is ultimately weaker and less enduring than the needs of the people. The Continental system reminded me of a law from an ancient legislator, who condemned those guilty of a crime he thought was impossible to commit to throw a bull over Mount Taurus.







      It is not my present design to trace a picture of the state of Europe at
      the close of 1806. I will merely throw together a few facts which came to
      my knowledge at the time, and which I find in my correspondence. I have
      already mentioned that the Emperor arrived at Warsaw on the 1st of
      January. During his stay at Posen he had, by virtue of a treaty concluded
      with the Elector of Saxony, founded a new kingdom, and consequently
      extended his power in Germany, by the annexation of the new Kingdom of
      Saxony to the Confederation of the Rhine. By the terms of this treaty
      Saxony, so justly famed for her cavalry, was to furnish the Emperor with a
      contingent of 20,000 men and horses.
    
I’m not planning to give a detailed overview of Europe at the end of 1806. I’ll just put together a few facts that I learned at the time and that I found in my correspondence. I already mentioned that the Emperor arrived in Warsaw on January 1st. During his stay in Posen, he established a new kingdom through a treaty with the Elector of Saxony, thereby increasing his influence in Germany by adding the new Kingdom of Saxony to the Confederation of the Rhine. According to this treaty, Saxony, known for its excellent cavalry, was to supply the Emperor with a contingent of 20,000 men and horses.







      It was quite a new spectacle to the Princes of Germany, all accustomed to
      old habits of etiquette, to see an upstart sovereign treat them as
      subjects, and even oblige them to consider themselves as such. Those
      famous Saxons, who had made Charlemagne tremble, threw themselves on the
      protection of the Emperor; and the alliance of the head of the House of
      Saxony was not a matter of indifference to Napoleon, for the new King was,
      on account of his age, his tastes, and his character, more revered than
      any other German Prince.
    
It was quite a new sight for the Princes of Germany, who were used to old habits of etiquette, to see a self-made ruler treat them as subjects and even force them to see themselves that way. Those famous Saxons, who had once made Charlemagne tremble, sought the protection of the Emperor; and the alliance of the head of the House of Saxony was significant to Napoleon because the new King was, due to his age, interests, and personality, more respected than any other German Prince.







      From the moment of Napoleon's arrival at Warsaw until the commencement of
      hostilities against the Russians he was continually solicited to
      reestablish the throne of Poland, and to restore its chivalrous
      independence to the ancient empire of the Jagellons. A person who was at
      that time in Warsaw told me that the Emperor was in the greatest
      uncertainty as to what he should do respecting Poland. He was entreated to
      reestablish that ancient and heroic kingdom; but he came to no decision,
      preferring, according to custom, to submit to events, that he might appear
      to command them. At Warsaw, indeed, the Emperor passed a great part of his
      time in fetes and reviews, which, however, did not prevent him from
      watching, with his eagle eye, every department of the public service, both
      interior and exterior. He himself was in the capital of Poland, but his
      vast influence was present everywhere. I heard Duroc say, when we were
      conversing together about the campaign of Tilsit, that Napoleon's activity
      and intelligence were never more conspicuously developed.
    
From the moment Napoleon arrived in Warsaw until the start of hostilities against the Russians, he was constantly urged to restore the throne of Poland and bring back its noble independence to the ancient empire of the Jagellons. A person who was in Warsaw at the time told me that the Emperor was very uncertain about what to do regarding Poland. He was pressed to revive that ancient and heroic kingdom, but he made no decision, preferring, as was his habit, to go with the flow of events while still appearing to take charge. In Warsaw, Napoleon spent a lot of his time attending festivities and military reviews, which didn't stop him from keeping a close watch with his sharp eye on all areas of public service, both domestic and foreign. He was physically in the capital of Poland, but his significant influence was felt everywhere. I heard Duroc mention during a conversation we had about the Tilsit campaign that Napoleon's energy and insight were never more evident.







      One very remarkable feature of the imperial wars was, that, with the
      exception of the interior police, of which Fouché was the soul, the whole
      government of France was at the headquarters of the Emperor. At Warsaw
      Napoleon's attention was not only occupied with the affairs of his army,
      but he directed the whole machinery of the French Government just the same
      as if he had been in Paris. Daily estafettes, and frequently the useless
      auditors of the Council of State, brought him reports more or less
      correct, and curious disclosures which were frequently the invention of
      the police. The portfolios of the Ministers arrived every week, with the
      exception of those of the Minister for Foreign Affairs and the Minister of
      the War Department; the former had first stopped at Mayence with the
      Empress, but had been called on to Warsaw; and the latter, Clarke, was,
      for the misfortune of Berlin, governor of that city. This state of things
      lasted during the ten months of the Emperor's absence from Paris. Louis
      XIV. said, "I am myself the State." Napoleon did not say this; but, in
      fact, under his reign the Government of France was always at his
      headquarters. This circumstance had well-nigh proved fatal to him, on the
      occasion of the extraordinary conspiracy of Malet, with some points of
      which I alone, perhaps, am thoroughly acquainted. The Emperor employed the
      month of January in military preparations for the approaching attack of
      the Russians, but at the same time he did not neglect the business of the
      cabinet: with him nothing was suffered to linger in arrear.
    
One striking aspect of the imperial wars was that, aside from the internal police led by Fouché, the entire French government was based at the Emperor's headquarters. In Warsaw, Napoleon was not only focused on his army's affairs but also managed all the operations of the French Government as if he were in Paris. Daily couriers, along with often unnecessary reports from the Council of State, provided him with information that was sometimes inaccurate and often fabricated by the police. The ministers' portfolios were sent to him weekly, except for those of the Foreign Affairs Minister and the War Minister; the former had initially gone to Mayence with the Empress but was then summoned to Warsaw, while Clarke, the War Minister, was overseeing Berlin, much to its misfortune. This situation persisted during the ten months he was away from Paris. Louis XIV famously declared, "I am the State." Napoleon didn’t say that, but, in practice, the French Government was always where he was stationed. This condition almost led to his downfall during the bizarre conspiracy of Malet, with some details that I alone, perhaps, fully know. The Emperor spent January preparing militarily for the upcoming Russian attack, but he also kept up with cabinet matters: nothing was allowed to fall behind.







      While Napoleon was at Warsaw a battle was not the only thing to be thought
      about; affairs were much more complicated than during the campaign of
      Vienna. It was necessary, on the one hand, to observe Prussia, which was
      occupied; and on the other to anticipate the Russians, whose movements
      indicated that they were inclined to strike the first blow. In the
      preceding campaign Austria, before the taking of Vienna, was engaged
      alone. The case was different now: Austria had had only soldiers; and
      Prussia, as Blücher declared to me, was beginning to have citizens. There
      was no difficulty in returning from Vienna, but a great deal in returning
      from Warsaw, in case of failure, notwithstanding the creation of the
      Kingdom of Saxony, and the provisional government given to Prussia, and to
      the other States of Germany which we had conquered. None of these
      considerations escaped the penetration of Napoleon: nothing was omitted in
      the notes, letters, and official correspondence which came to me from all
      quarters. Receiving, as I did, accurate information from my own
      correspondents of all that was passing in Germany, it often happened that
      I transmitted to the Government the same news which it transmitted to me,
      not supposing that I previously knew it. Thus, for example, I thought I
      was apprising the Government of the arming of Austria, of which I received
      information from headquarters a few days after.
    
While Napoleon was in Warsaw, there was more to think about than just battles; the situation was much more complex than during the Vienna campaign. On one hand, it was important to keep an eye on Prussia, which was currently occupied; on the other, we had to anticipate the Russians, whose movements suggested they were ready to strike first. In the previous campaign, Austria had been alone before taking Vienna. This time was different: Austria had only soldiers, while as Blücher told me, Prussia was starting to have citizens. Returning from Vienna wasn’t a problem, but returning from Warsaw could be challenging if we failed, despite the creation of the Kingdom of Saxony, and the provisional government set up for Prussia and the other German states we had conquered. Napoleon was fully aware of all these factors; nothing was overlooked in the notes, letters, and official correspondence that came to me from various sources. I often received detailed updates from my own contacts about what was happening in Germany, and there were times when I shared the same news with the government that they had sent to me, not realizing I already knew it. For instance, I thought I was informing the government about Austria's military preparations, which I had learned about from headquarters a few days later.







      During the Prussian campaign Austria played precisely the same waiting
      game which Prussia had played clueing the campaign of Austria. As Prussia
      had, before the battle of Austerlitz, awaited the success or defeat of the
      French to decide whether she should remain neutral or declare herself
      against France, so Austria, doubtless supposing that Russia would be more
      fortunate as the ally of Prussia than she had been as her ally, assembled
      a corps of 40,000 men in Bohemia. That corps was called an army of
      observation; but the nature of these armies of observation is well known;
      they belong to the class of armed neutralities, like the ingenious
      invention of sanitary cordons. The fact is, that the 40,000 men assembled
      in Bohemia were destined to aid and assist the Russians in case they
      should be successful (and who can blame the Austrian Government for
      wishing to wash away the shame of the Treaty of Presburg?). Napoleon had
      not a moment to lose, but this activity required no spur; he had hastened
      the battle of Austerlitz to anticipate Prussia, and he now found it
      necessary to anticipate Russia in order to keep Austria in a state of
      indecision.
    
During the Prussian campaign, Austria played the same waiting game that Prussia had during Austria's own campaign. Just as Prussia had waited to see whether the French would win or lose before deciding to stay neutral or side against France before the battle of Austerlitz, Austria, likely assuming that Russia would be more successful as Prussia's ally than it had been as its own, gathered a corps of 40,000 men in Bohemia. This corps was referred to as an army of observation; however, the nature of these armies of observation is well known; they fall into the category of armed neutralities, similar to the clever idea of sanitary cordons. The reality is that the 40,000 troops assembled in Bohemia were meant to support the Russians if they were successful (and who can blame the Austrian Government for wanting to erase the embarrassment of the Treaty of Pressburg?). Napoleon couldn’t afford to waste any time, but this urgency didn’t need any extra motivation; he had rushed the battle of Austerlitz to outpace Prussia, and now he felt it necessary to outpace Russia to keep Austria uncertain.







      The Emperor, therefore, left Warsaw about the end of January, and
      immediately gave orders for engaging the Russian army in the beginning of
      February; but, in spite of his desire of commencing the attack, he was
      anticipated. On the 8th of February, at seven in the morning, he was
      attacked by the Russians, who advanced during a terrible storm of snow,
      which fell in large flakes. They approached Preussich-Eylau, where the
      Emperor was, and the Imperial Guard stopped the Russian column. Nearly the
      whole French army was engaged in that battle-one of the most sanguinary
      ever fought in Europe. The corps commanded by Bernadotte was not engaged,
      in the contest; it had been stationed on the left at Mohrungen, whence it
      menaced Dantzic. The issue of the battle would have been very different
      had the four, divisions of infantry and the two of cavalry composing
      Bernadotte's corps arrived in time; but unfortunately the officer
      instructed to convey orders to Bernadotte to march without delay on
      Preussich-Eylau was taken by a body of Cossacks; Bernadotte, therefore,
      did not arrive. Bonaparte, who always liked to throw blame on some one if
      things did not turn out exactly as he wished, attributed the doubtful
      success of the day to the absence of Bernadotte; in this he was right; but
      to make his absence a reproach to that Marshal was a gross injustice.
      Bernadotte was accused of not having been willing to march on
      Preussich-Eylau, though, as it was alleged, General d'Hautpoult had
      informed him of the necessity of his presence. But how can that fact be
      ascertained, since General d'Hautpoult was killed on that same day? Who
      can assure us that that General had been able to communicate with the
      Marshal?
    
The Emperor left Warsaw towards the end of January and immediately ordered an engagement with the Russian army to begin in early February. However, despite his eagerness to start the attack, he was outpaced. On February 8th, at seven in the morning, the Russians launched an attack during a severe snowstorm with large flakes falling. They approached Preussich-Eylau, where the Emperor was, and the Imperial Guard halted the Russian advance. Nearly the entire French army took part in this battle, one of the bloodiest ever fought in Europe. The corps led by Bernadotte was not involved in the fight; it had been positioned on the left at Mohrungen, threatening Dantzic. The outcome of the battle could have been very different if Bernadotte’s four infantry divisions and two cavalry divisions had arrived in time. Unfortunately, the officer sent to deliver the orders to Bernadotte to march immediately on Preussich-Eylau was captured by a group of Cossacks, so Bernadotte did not make it. Bonaparte, who always preferred to place blame on someone when things didn’t go as planned, blamed the uncertain outcome of the day on Bernadotte's absence. He was right about that, but blaming the Marshal for not being there was deeply unfair. Bernadotte was accused of hesitating to march on Preussich-Eylau, despite claims that General d'Hautpoult had informed him of the need for his presence. But how can that be confirmed, given that General d'Hautpoult was killed on the same day? Who can guarantee that General d'Hautpoult was able to communicate with the Marshal?







      Those who knew Bonaparte, his cunning, and the artful advantage he would
      sometimes take of words which he attributed to the dead, will easily solve
      the enigma. The battle of Eylau was terrible. Night came on—Bernadotte's
      corps was instantly, but in vain, expected; and after a great loss the
      French army had the melancholy honour of passing the night on the field of
      battle. Bernadotte at length arrived, but too late. He met the enemy, who
      were retreating without the fear of being molested towards Konigsberg, the
      only capital remaining to Prussia. The King of Prussia was then at Memel,
      a small port on the Baltic, thirty leagues from Konigsberg.
    
Those who knew Bonaparte, his cleverness, and how he would sometimes take shrewd advantage of the words he attributed to the dead, will easily figure out the riddle. The battle of Eylau was brutal. Night fell—Bernadotte's corps was eagerly awaited, but it arrived too late; after suffering heavy losses, the French army had the unfortunate honor of spending the night on the battlefield. Bernadotte finally showed up, but it was too late. He encountered the enemy, who were retreating towards Konigsberg without fear of being attacked, the only capital still in Prussian hands. The King of Prussia was then at Memel, a small port on the Baltic, about thirty leagues from Konigsberg.







      After the battle of Eylau both sides remained stationary, and several days
      elapsed without anything remarkable taking place. The offers of peace made
      by the Emperor, with very little earnestness it is true, were disdainfully
      rejected, as if a victory disputed with Napoleon was to be regarded as a
      triumph. The battle of Eylau seemed to turn the heads of the Russians, who
      chanted Te Deum on the occasion. But while the Emperor was making
      preparations to advance, his diplomacy was taking effect in a distant
      quarter, and raising up against Russia an old and formidable enemy. Turkey
      declared war against her. This was a powerful diversion, and obliged
      Russia to strip her western frontiers to secure a line of defence on the
      south.
    
After the battle of Eylau, both sides stayed put, and several days went by without anything significant happening. The peace offers from the Emperor, though not very sincere, were rejected with contempt, as if defeating Napoleon was seen as a victory. The battle of Eylau appeared to boost the morale of the Russians, who celebrated with a Te Deum. However, while the Emperor was getting ready to move forward, his diplomatic efforts were making an impact elsewhere, rallying an old and powerful enemy against Russia. Turkey declared war on her. This was a major distraction and forced Russia to pull troops from her western borders to defend the south.







      Some time after General Gardanne set out on the famous embassy to Persia;
      for which the way had been paved by the success of the mission of my
      friend, Amedee Jaubert. This embassy was not merely one of those pompous
      legations such as Charlemagne, Louis XIV., and Louis XVI. received from
      the Empress Irene, the King of Siam, and Tippoo Saib. It was connected
      with ideas which Bonaparte had conceived at the very dawn of his power. It
      was, indeed, the light from the East which fast enabled him to see his
      greatness in perspective; and that light never ceased to fix his attention
      and dazzle his imagination. I know well that Gardanne's embassy was at
      first conceived on a much grander scale than that on which it was
      executed. Napoleon had resolved to send to the Shah of Persia 4000
      infantry, commanded by chosen and experienced officers, 10,000 muskets,
      and 50 pieces, of cannon; and I also know that orders were given for the
      execution of this design. The avowed object of the Emperor was to enable
      the Shah of Persia to make an important diversion, with 80,000 men, in,
      the eastern provinces of Russia. But there was likewise another, an old
      and constant object, which was always, uppermost in Napoleon's mind,
      namely the wish to strike at England in the very heart of her Asiatic
      possessions. Such was the principal motive of Gardanne's mission, but
      circumstances did not permit the Emperor, to, give, it, all the importance
      he desired. He contented himself with sending a few officers of engineers
      and artillery, to Persia, who, on their arrival, were astonished at the
      number of English they found there.
    
Some time after General Gardanne set out on the famous mission to Persia, which was made possible by the success of my friend, Amedee Jaubert's mission. This embassy wasn't just another fancy delegation like those received by Charlemagne, Louis XIV, and Louis XVI from the Empress Irene, the King of Siam, and Tippoo Saib. It was linked to ideas that Bonaparte had formed at the start of his rise to power. The light from the East helped him see his greatness more clearly, and it continuously captured his attention and dazzled his imagination. I know that Gardanne's embassy was initially planned on a much grander scale than it was ultimately carried out. Napoleon had decided to send 4,000 infantry to the Shah of Persia, led by chosen and experienced officers, along with 10,000 muskets and 50 cannons. I also know that orders were issued to carry out this plan. The official goal of the Emperor was to enable the Shah of Persia to create a significant diversion with 80,000 men in the eastern provinces of Russia. However, there was also another, ongoing goal that always remained in Napoleon's mind: the desire to strike at England in the heart of her Asian territories. That was the primary reason for Gardanne's mission, but circumstances prevented the Emperor from giving it the level of importance he wanted. He settled for sending a few engineering and artillery officers to Persia, who, upon their arrival, were taken aback by the number of English they encountered there.








 


 




















      CHAPTER XI.
    



      1807
    
1807


   Abuse of military power—Defence of diplomatic rights—Marshal Brune
   —Army supplies—English cloth and leather—Arrest on a charge of
   libel—Dispatch from M. Talleyrand—A page of Napoleon's glory—
   Interview between the two Emperors at Tilsit,—Silesia restored to
   the Queen of Prussia—Unfortunate situation in Prussia—
   Impossibility of reestablishing Poland in 1807—Foundation of the
   Kingdom of Westphalia—The Duchy of Warsaw and the King of Saxony.

   Abuse of military power—Defense of diplomatic rights—Marshal Brune  
   —Army supplies—English cloth and leather—Arrest for libel—Dispatch from M. Talleyrand—A moment of Napoleon's glory—Interview between the two Emperors at Tilsit—Silesia returned to the Queen of Prussia—Unfortunate situation in Prussia—Impossibility of reestablishing Poland in 1807—Foundation of the Kingdom of Westphalia—The Duchy of Warsaw and the King of Saxony.







      Meanwhile the internal affairs of the towns over which my diplomatic
      jurisdiction extended soon gave me more employment than ever. The greatest
      misfortune of the Empire was, perhaps, the abuse of the right arrogated by
      the wearers of epaulettes. My situation gave me an opportunity of
      observing all the odious character of a military government. Another in my
      place could not have done all that I did. I say this confidently, for my
      situation was a distinct and independent one, as Bonaparte had told me:
      Being authorised to correspond directly with the Emperor; the military
      chiefs feared, if they did not yield to my just representations, that I
      would made private reports; this apprehension was wonderfully useful in
      enabling me to maintain the rights of the towns, which had adopted me as
      their first citizen.
    
Meanwhile, the internal affairs of the towns under my diplomatic jurisdiction soon kept me busier than ever. The biggest problem for the Empire was probably the abuse of power by those in military uniforms. My position allowed me to see the unpleasant nature of a military government. Someone else in my position wouldn't have been able to achieve what I did. I say this confidently because my situation was distinct and independent, as Bonaparte had told me: I was authorized to communicate directly with the Emperor, and the military leaders feared that if they didn’t listen to my reasonable requests, I would submit private reports. This fear was incredibly helpful in allowing me to uphold the rights of the towns that had embraced me as their first citizen.







      A circumstance occurred in which I had to defend the rights of the
      diplomatic and commercial agents against the pretensions of military
      power. Marshal Brune during his government at Hamburg, went to Bremman. to
      watch the strict execution of the illusive blockade against England. The
      Marshal acting no doubt, in conformity with the instructions of Clarke,
      then Minister of War and Governor of Berlin, wished to arrogate the right
      of deciding on the captures made by our cruisers.
    
A situation arose where I had to protect the rights of the diplomatic and commercial agents against the claims of military authority. Marshal Brune, while in charge of Hamburg, went to Bremen to ensure the strict enforcement of the deceptive blockade against England. The Marshal, likely following the orders of Clarke, who was the Minister of War and Governor of Berlin, attempted to claim the right to make decisions on the captures made by our cruisers.







      He attempted to prevent the Consul Lagau from selling the confiscated
      ships in order to sell them himself. Of this M. Lagau complained to me.
      The more I observed a disposition to encroach on the part of the military
      authorities, the more I conceived it necessary to maintain the rights of
      the consuls, and to favour their influence, without which they would have
      lost their consideration. To the complaints of M. Lagau I replied, "That
      to him alone belonged the right of deciding, in the first instance, on the
      fate of the ships; that he could not be deprived of that right without
      changing the law; that he was free to sell the confiscated Prussian ships;
      that Marshall Brune was at Bremen only for the execution of the decree
      respecting the blockade of England, and that he ought not to interfere in
      business unconnected with that decree." Lagau showed this letter to Brune,
      who then allowed him to do as he wished; but it was an affair of profit,
      and the Marshal for a long time owed me a grudge.
    
He tried to stop Consul Lagau from selling the confiscated ships so he could sell them himself. Lagau complained to me about this. The more I noticed the military authorities trying to overstep their bounds, the more I felt it was important to uphold the rights of the consuls and support their influence; without that, they would have lost their significance. In response to Lagau's complaints, I said, "You alone have the right to decide the fate of the ships; you can’t be denied that right without changing the law; you're free to sell the confiscated Prussian ships; Marshall Brune is in Bremen solely to enforce the decree regarding the blockade of England, and he shouldn’t get involved in matters unrelated to that decree." Lagau showed this letter to Brune, who then let him proceed as he wanted; however, it was a matter of profit, and the Marshal held a grudge against me for a long time.







      Bernadotte was exceedingly disinterested, but he loved to be talked about.
      The more the Emperor endeavoured to throw accusations upon him, the more
      he was anxious to give publicity to all his actions. He sent to me an
      account of the brilliant affair of Braunsburg, in which a division of the
      first corps had been particularly distinguished. Along with this narrative
      he sent me a note in the following terms:—"I send you, my dear.
      Minister, an account of the affair of Braunsburg. You will, perhaps, think
      proper to publish it. In that case I shall be obliged by your getting it
      inserted in the Hamburg journals," I did so. The injustice of the Emperor,
      and the bad way in which he spoke of Bernadotte, obliged the latter,—for
      the sake of his own credit, to make the truth known to the world.
    
Bernadotte was really indifferent, but he loved to be in the spotlight. The more the Emperor tried to accuse him, the more he wanted to make all his actions public. He sent me a report about the impressive event at Braunsburg, where a division of the first corps had stood out. Along with this report, he included a note that said: “I’m sending you, my dear Minister, a report about the Braunsburg event. You might want to publish it. If so, I’d appreciate it if you could have it included in the Hamburg newspapers.” I did just that. The Emperor's unfairness and the way he spoke poorly of Bernadotte forced him, for his own reputation's sake, to share the truth with the world.







      I have already mentioned that I received an order from the Emperor to
      supply 50,000 cloaks for the army. With this order, which was not the only
      one I received of the same kind, some circumstances were connected which I
      may take the present opportunity of explaining.
    
I’ve already said that I got an order from the Emperor to supply 50,000 cloaks for the army. Along with this order, which wasn’t the only one of its kind that I received, there were some circumstances that I’d like to explain now.







      The Emperor gave me so many orders for army clothing that all that could
      be supplied by the cities of Hamburg, Bremen, and Lübeck would have been
      insufficient for executing the commissions. I entered into a treaty with a
      house in Hamburg, which I authorised, in spite of the Berlin decree, to
      bring cloth and leather from England. Thus I procured these articles in a
      sure and cheap way. Our troops might have perished of cold had the
      Continental system and the absurd mass of inexecutable decrees relative to
      English merchandise been observed.
    
The Emperor issued so many orders for army clothing that what could be provided by the cities of Hamburg, Bremen, and Lübeck would not have been enough to fulfill the requests. I made a deal with a company in Hamburg, which I allowed, despite the Berlin decree, to bring in cloth and leather from England. This way, I was able to obtain these materials reliably and affordably. Our troops could have frozen to death if we had followed the Continental system and the ridiculous number of impossible decrees regarding English goods.







      The Director of the Customs at Hamburg got angry, but I held firm: my
      cloths and my leather arrived; cloaks, coats; boots, all were promptly
      made, and our soldiers thus were sheltered from the severity of the
      season. To preserve peace with the Imperial Custom-house I wrote to M.
      Collie, then Director-General, that M. Eudel having wished to put in
      execution the law of the 10th Brumaire and complaints had been made on
      every side. Marshal Brune asked for my opinion on this matter, and I gave
      it to him. I declared to M. Collie that the full execution of the decree
      of 31st October 1796 was impracticable, injurious to France, and to the
      Hanseatic Towns, without doing harm to England. Indeed, what said article
      5 of this law? "All goods imported from foreign countries, whatever may be
      their origin, are to be considered as coming from English manufacturers."
      According to this article France was a foreign country for the Hanseatic
      Towns, and none of the objects enumerated in this article ought to enter
      Hamburg! But the town received from England a large quantity of fine
      cloths, buttons; ironmongery, toys, china; and from France only clocks,
      bronzes, jewellery, ribbons, bonnets, gauzes and gloves. "Let," said I to
      M. Eudel, "the Paris Duane be asked what that town alone exports in
      matters of this sort and it will be seen how important it is not to stop a
      trade all the more profitable to France, as the workmanship forms the
      greatest part of the price of the goods which make up this trade. What
      would happen if the importation of these goods were absolutely prohibited
      in Hamburg? The consignments would cease, and one of the most productive
      sources of trade for France, and especially for Paris would be cut off."
    
The Director of Customs in Hamburg got really upset, but I stood my ground: my fabrics and leather arrived; cloaks, coats, boots—all were quickly made, and our soldiers were kept warm during the harsh weather. To maintain peace with the Imperial Customs office, I wrote to M. Collie, who was the Director-General at the time, about how M. Eudel wanted to enforce the law from the 10th Brumaire and complaints were coming from all sides. Marshal Brune asked for my thoughts on this, and I shared them with him. I told M. Collie that fully enforcing the decree from October 31, 1796, was not feasible, harmful to France, and the Hanseatic Towns, without actually hurting England. In fact, what did article 5 of this law say? "All goods imported from foreign countries, regardless of their origin, are to be considered as coming from English manufacturers." According to this, France was treated as a foreign country by the Hanseatic Towns, and none of the items listed in this article should be allowed into Hamburg! However, the town was receiving a large amount of fine fabrics, buttons, hardware, toys, china from England, and only clocks, bronzes, jewelry, ribbons, bonnets, gauzes, and gloves from France. I said to M. Eudel, "Let’s ask the Paris customs office what that town alone exports in these types of goods, and it will show how important it is not to stop a trade that is even more profitable for France, since the craftsmanship makes up the biggest part of the price of the goods involved in this trade. What would happen if the import of these goods were totally banned in Hamburg? The shipments would stop, and one of the most profitable sources of trade for France, especially for Paris, would be lost."







      At this time neither Hamburg nor its territory had any manufacture of
      cloth. All woollen stuffs were prohibited, according to M. Eudel, and
      still my duty was to furnish, and I had furnished, 50,000 cloaks for the
      Grand Army. In compliance with a recent Imperial decree I had to have made
      without delay 16,000 coats, 37,000 waistcoats, and the Emperor required of
      me 200,000 pairs of boots, besides the 40,000 pairs I had sent in. Yet M.
      Eudel said that tanned and worked leather ought not to enter Hamburg! If
      such a ridiculous application of the law of 1796 had been made it would
      have turned the decree of 21st November 1796 against France, without
      fulfilling its object.
    
At this point, neither Hamburg nor its area had any cloth production. According to M. Eudel, all woolen goods were banned, yet it was still my responsibility to provide—and I had provided—50,000 cloaks for the Grand Army. Following a recent Imperial order, I was required to quickly produce 16,000 coats, 37,000 waistcoats, and the Emperor demanded 200,000 pairs of boots from me, in addition to the 40,000 pairs I had already sent. However, M. Eudel insisted that tanned and processed leather should not enter Hamburg! If such a ridiculous enforcement of the law from 1796 had been made, it would have turned the decree of November 21, 1796 against France, without achieving its intended purpose.







      These reflections, to which I added other details, made the Government
      conclude that I was right, and I traded with England to the great
      advantage of the armies, which were well clothed and shod. What in the
      world can be more ridiculous than commercial laws carried out to one's own
      detriment?
    
These thoughts, along with additional details I provided, led the Government to agree with me, and I began trading with England, which greatly benefited the armies, ensuring they were well clothed and shod. What could be more absurd than following commercial laws that ultimately harm oneself?







      At the beginning of 1807 my occupations at Hamburg were divided between
      the furnishing of supplies for the army and the inspection of the
      emigrants, whom Fouché pretended to dread in order to give greater
      importance to his office.
    
At the start of 1807, my work in Hamburg was split between providing supplies for the army and checking on the emigrants, whom Fouché claimed to fear to make his position seem more significant.







      I never let slip an opportunity of mitigating the rigour of Fouché's
      orders, which, indeed, were sometimes so absurd that I did not attempt to
      execute them. Of this an instance occurs to my recollection. A printer at
      Hamburg had been arrested on the charge of having printed a libel in the
      German language. The man was detained in prison because, very much to his
      honour, he would not disclose the name of the writer of the pamphlet. I
      sent for him and questioned him. He told me, with every appearance of
      sincerity, that he had never but once seen the man who had brought him the
      manuscript. I was convinced of the truth of what he said, and I gave an
      order for his liberation. To avoid irritating the susceptibility of the
      Minister of Police I wrote to him the following few lines:—"The
      libel is the most miserable rhapsody imaginable. The author, probably with
      the view of selling his pamphlet in Holstein, predicts that Denmark will
      conquer every other nation and become the greatest kingdom in the world.
      This alone will suffice to prove to you how little clanger there is in
      rubbish written in the style of the Apocalypse."
    
I never missed an opportunity to soften the harshness of Fouché's orders, which were sometimes so ridiculous that I didn’t even try to carry them out. One instance comes to mind. A printer in Hamburg had been arrested for allegedly printing a libel in German. He was kept in prison because, quite honorably, he refused to reveal the name of the pamphlet's author. I called him in and questioned him. He sincerely told me that he had only seen the man who brought him the manuscript once. I believed him, and I ordered his release. To avoid upsetting the Minister of Police, I wrote him a brief note: “The libel is the most pathetic nonsense imaginable. The author, likely trying to sell his pamphlet in Holstein, claims that Denmark will conquer all other nations and become the greatest kingdom in the world. This alone should show you how little danger there is in rubbish written in the style of the Apocalypse.”







      After the battle of Eylau I received a despatch from M. de Talleyrand, to
      which was added an account in French of that memorable battle, which was
      more fatal to the conqueror than to the other party,—I cannot say
      the conquered in speaking of the Russians, the more especially when I
      recollect the precautions which were then taken throughout Germany to make
      known the French before the Russian version. The Emperor was exceedingly
      anxious that every one should view that event as he himself viewed it.
      Other accounts than his might have produced an unfavourable impression in
      the north. I therefore had orders to publish that account. I caused 2000
      copies of it to be issued, which were more than sufficient for circulation
      in the Hanse Towns and their territories.
    
After the battle of Eylau, I got a message from M. de Talleyrand, which included a report in French about that significant battle, which turned out to be more devastating for the winner than the other side—I can't really call the Russians the losers, especially when I think about the efforts made throughout Germany to promote the French version before the Russian one. The Emperor was very eager for everyone to see that event the way he did. Other accounts could have created a negative impression in the north. So, I was ordered to publish that account. I arranged for 2,000 copies to be printed, which were more than enough for distribution in the Hanse Towns and their areas.







      The reader will perhaps complain that I have been almost silent with
      respect to the grand manoeuvres of the French army from the battle of
      Eylau to that of Friedland, where, at all events, our success was
      indisputable. There was no necessity for printing favourable versions of
      that event, and, besides, its immense results were soon felt throughout
      Europe. The interview at Tilsit is one of the culminating points of modern
      history, and the waters of the Niemen reflected the image of Napoleon at
      the height of his glory. The interview between the two Emperors at Tilsit,
      and the melancholy situation of the King of Prussia, are generally known.
      I was made acquainted with but few secret details relative to those
      events, for Rapp had gone to Dantzic, and it was he who most readily
      communicated to me all that the Emperor said and did, and all that was
      passing around him.—
    
The reader might complain that I have been nearly silent about the major movements of the French army from the battle of Eylau to that of Friedland, where our success was undeniable. There was no need to publish overly positive accounts of that event, and besides, its massive impact was quickly felt all over Europe. The meeting at Tilsit is one of the high points of modern history, and the waters of the Niemen reflected the image of Napoleon at the peak of his power. The meeting between the two Emperors at Tilsit, along with the grim situation of the King of Prussia, is well known. I was made aware of only a few secret details regarding those events, as Rapp had gone to Danzig, and he was the one who best communicated to me everything the Emperor said and did, as well as what was happening around him.






 —[Savory gives the following account of the interview between
   Napoleon and Alexander at Tilsit.

   "The Emperor Napoleon, whose courtesy was manifest in all his
   actions, ordered a large raft to be floated in the middle of the
   river, upon which was constructed a room well covered in and
   elegantly decorated having two doors on opposite aides, each of
   which opened into an antechamber. The work could not have been
   better executed in Paris. The roof was surmounted by two
   weathercocks: one displaying the eagle of Russia, and the other the
   eagle of France. The two outer doors were also surmounted by the
   eagles of the two countries.

   "The raft was precisely in the middle of the river, with the two
   doors of the salon facing the two opposite banks.

   "The two sovereigns appeared on the banks of the river, and embarked
   at the same moment But the Emperor Napoleon having a good boat,
   manned by marines of the Guard, arrived first on the raft, entered
   the room, and went to the opposite door, which he opened, and then
   stationed himself on the edge of the raft to receive the Emperor
   Alexander, who had not yet arrived, not having each good rowers as
   the Emperor Napoleon.

   "The two Emperors met in the most amicable way, et least to all
   appearance. They remained together for a considerable time, and
   then took leave of each other with as friendly an air as that with
   which they had met.

   "Next day the Emperor of Russia established himself at Tilsit with a
   battalion of his Guard. Orders were given for evacuating that part
   of the town where he and his battalion were to be quartered; and,
   though we were very much pressed for room, no encroachment on the
   space allotted to the Russians was thought of.

   "On the day the Emperor Alexander, entered Tilsit the whole army was
   under arms. The Imperial Guard was drawn out in two lines of three
   deep from the landing-place to the Emperor Napoleon's quarters, and
   from thence to the quarters of the Emperor of Russia. A salute of
   100 guns was fired the moment Alexander stepped ashore on the spot
   where the Emperor Napoleon was waiting to receive him. The latter
   carried his attention to his visitor so far as to send from his
   quarters the furniture for Alexander's bedchamber. Among the
   articles sent was a camp-bed belonging to the Emperor, which he
   presented to Alexander, who appeared much pleased with the gift.

   "This meeting; the first which history records of the same kind and
   of equal importance, attracted visitors to Tilsit from 100 leagues
   round. M. de Talleyrand arrived, and after the observance of the
   usual ceremonies business began to be discussed." (Memoirs of the
   Duc de Rovigo, tome iii. p. 117).

   "When," said Napoleon, "I was at Tilsit with the Emperor Alexander
   and the King of Prussia, I was the most ignorant of the three in
   military affairs. These two sovereigns, especially the King of
   Prussia, were completely 'au fait' as to the number of buttons there
   ought to be in front of a jacket, how many behind, and the manner in
   which the skirts ought to be cut. Not a tailor in the army knew
   better than King Frederick how many measures of cloth it took to
   make a jacket. In fact," continued he laughing, "I was nobody in
   comparison with them. They continually tormented me about matters
   belonging to tailors, of which I was entirely ignorant, although, in
   order not to affront them, I answered just as gravely as if the fate
   of an army depended upon the cut of a jacket. When I went to see
   the King of Prussia, instead of a library, I found that he had a
   large room, like an arsenal, furnished with shelves and pegs; on
   which were hung fifty or sixty jackets of different patterns. Every
   day he changed his fashion and put on a different one. He attached
   more importance to this than was necessary for the salvation of a
   kingdom." (O'Meara's Napoleon in Exile.)]— 
 —[Savory gives the following account of the interview between Napoleon and Alexander at Tilsit.

   "Emperor Napoleon, who was courteous in all his actions, had a large raft floated in the middle of the river. On it, a well-covered and elegantly decorated room was built, with two doors on opposite sides, each opening into an antechamber. The craftsmanship could not have been better than in Paris. The roof featured two weather vanes: one displaying the eagle of Russia and the other the eagle of France. The two outer doors were also topped with the eagles of their respective countries.

   "The raft was positioned directly in the center of the river, with the two doors of the salon facing the opposite banks.

   "The two sovereigns appeared on the riverbanks and set off at the same time. However, Emperor Napoleon had a good boat, manned by guards, and arrived first on the raft. He entered the room, went to the opposite door, opened it, and then stood at the edge of the raft to welcome Emperor Alexander, who was delayed due to not having as skilled rowers as Napoleon.

   "The two Emperors greeted each other in the friendliest way, or at least it appeared so. They spent a significant amount of time together and took their leave with just as much friendliness as when they met.

   "The next day, the Emperor of Russia settled in at Tilsit with a battalion of his guards. Orders were issued for evacuating the area of town where he and his battalion were to be quartered. Despite the tight quarters, no one considered encroaching upon the space designated for the Russians.

   "On the day that Emperor Alexander entered Tilsit, the entire army was on alert. The Imperial Guard was lined up in two rows of three deep from the landing area to Emperor Napoleon's quarters, and from there to the quarters of the Emperor of Russia. A salute of 100 guns was fired the moment Alexander stepped ashore at the spot where Napoleon was waiting to receive him. Napoleon even went so far as to send over the furniture for Alexander's bedroom from his own quarters. Among the items sent was a camp bed belonging to Napoleon, which he gifted to Alexander, who seemed very pleased with the present.

   "This meeting, the first of its kind and significance recorded in history, drew visitors to Tilsit from 100 leagues around. M. de Talleyrand arrived, and after observing the usual ceremonies, discussions about business began." (Memoirs of the Duc de Rovigo, tome iii. p. 117).

   "When," said Napoleon, "I was at Tilsit with Emperor Alexander and the King of Prussia, I was the least knowledgeable of the three when it came to military matters. These two sovereigns, especially the King of Prussia, were completely aware of how many buttons should be on the front of a jacket, how many on the back, and how the sleeves should be cut. No tailor in the army knew better than King Frederick how much fabric it took to make a jacket. In fact," he added with a laugh, "I was nobody compared to them. They constantly bothered me about tailor-related issues, which I knew nothing about, though to avoid offending them, I responded as seriously as if the fate of an army depended on the cut of a jacket. When I visited the King of Prussia, instead of a library, I found a large room resembling an arsenal, equipped with shelves and hooks. Fifty or sixty jackets of different styles were hung there. Every day, he changed his style and wore a different one. He placed more importance on this than was necessary for the stability of a kingdom." (O'Meara's Napoleon in Exile.)]—







      I, however, learned one circumstance peculiarly worthy of remark which
      occurred in the Emperor's apartments at Tilsit the first time he received
      a visit from the King of Prussia. That unfortunate monarch, who was
      accompanied by Queen Louisa, had taken refuge in a mill beyond the town.
      This was his sole habitation, whilst the Emperors occupied the two
      portions of the town, which is divided by the Niemen. The fact I am about
      to relate reached me indirectly through the medium of an offices of the
      Imperial Guard, who was on duty in Napoleon's apartments and was an
      eye-witness of it. When the Emperor Alexander visited Napoleon they
      continued for a long time in conversation on a balcony below, where as
      immense crowd hailed their meeting with enthusiastic shouts. Napoleon
      commenced the conversation, as he did the year preceding with the Emperor
      of Austria, by speaking of the uncertain fate of war. Whilst they were
      conversing the King of Prussia was announced. The King's emotion was
      visible, and may easily be imagined; for as hostilities were suspended,
      and his territory in possession of the French, his only hope was in the
      generosity of the conqueror. Napoleon himself, it is said, appeared moved
      by his situation, and invited him, together with the Queen, to dinner. On
      sitting down to table Napoleon with great gallantry told the beautiful
      Queen that he would restore to her Silesia, a province which she earnestly
      wished should be retained in the new arrangements which were necessarily
      about to take place.
    
I learned about a notable event that happened in the Emperor's rooms at Tilsit when he first welcomed the King of Prussia. That unfortunate king, who was with Queen Louisa, had sought shelter in a mill outside the town. This was his only place to stay while the Emperors occupied the two parts of the town divided by the Niemen River. The information I’m about to share reached me through an officer of the Imperial Guard, who was on duty in Napoleon's chambers and witnessed the event firsthand. When Emperor Alexander met with Napoleon, they had a lengthy conversation on a balcony below, where a large crowd greeted their meeting with enthusiastic cheers. Napoleon began the discussion, just as he had the previous year with the Emperor of Austria, by talking about the uncertain outcome of war. While they were talking, the King of Prussia was announced. The King's emotion was evident and easy to imagine, as hostilities were paused and his territory was under French control, leaving him with little hope except for the conqueror's generosity. It’s said that Napoleon was moved by the King’s situation and invited him and the Queen to dinner. Once they sat at the table, Napoleon gallantly told the lovely Queen that he would return Silesia to her, a province she desperately wanted to remain in the new arrangements that were about to unfold.






 —[Las Cases mentions that at the time of the treaty of Tilsit
   Napoleon wrote to the Empress Josephine as follows:

   "'The Queen of Prussia is really a charming woman. She is fond of
   coquetting with me; but do not be jealous: I am like oilcloth, along
   which everything of this sort elides without penetrating. It would
   cost me too dear to play the gallant'

   "On this subject an anecdote was related in the salon of Josephine.
   It was said that the Queen of Prussia one day had a beautiful rose
   in her hand, which the Emperor asked her to give him. The Queen
   hesitated for a few moments, and then presented it to him, saying,
   'Why should I so readily grant what you request, while you remain
   deaf to all my entreaties?' (She alluded to the fortress of
   Magdeburg, which she had earnestly solicited)." (Memorial de St.
   Helene).]— 
—[Las Cases mentions that at the time of the Treaty of Tilsit, Napoleon wrote to Empress Josephine as follows:

   "'The Queen of Prussia is really a charming woman. She enjoys flirting with me; but don’t be jealous: I’m like oilcloth, and things like that just slide off me without making an impact. It would be too costly for me to act the gentleman.' 

   "On this topic, a story was shared in Josephine's salon. It was said that one day the Queen of Prussia had a beautiful rose in her hand, which the Emperor asked her to give to him. The Queen hesitated for a moment and then handed it to him, saying, 'Why should I so readily grant your request while you ignore all my pleas?' (She was referring to the fortress of Magdeburg, which she had passionately asked for)." (Memorial de St. Helene).]—







      The treaty of peace concluded at Tilsit between France and Russia, on the
      7th of July, and ratified two days after, produced no less striking a
      change in the geographical division of Europe than had been effected the
      year preceding by the Treaty of Presburg. The treaty contained no
      stipulation dishonourable to Russia, whose territory was preserved
      inviolate; but how was Prussia treated? Some historians, for the vain
      pleasure of flattering by posthumous praises the pretended moderation of
      Napoleon, have almost reproached him for having suffered some remnants of
      the monarchy of the great Frederick to survive. There is, nevertheless, a
      point on which Napoleon has been wrongfully condemned, at least with
      reference to the campaign of 1807. It has been said that he should at that
      period have re-established the kingdom of Poland; and certainly there is
      every reason to regret, for the interests of France and Europe, that it
      was not re-established. But when a desire, even founded on reason, is not
      carried into effect, should we conclude that the wished-for object ought
      to be achieved in defiance of all obstacles? At that time, that is to say,
      during the campaign of Tilsit, insurmountable obstacles existed.
    
The peace treaty signed at Tilsit between France and Russia on July 7, which was ratified two days later, brought about a change in Europe's geographical divisions that was just as significant as the one created the previous year by the Treaty of Presburg. The treaty did not include any terms that would be dishonorable to Russia, whose territory remained intact; however, how was Prussia treated? Some historians, perhaps to flatter Napoleon with posthumous praises for his supposed moderation, have criticized him for allowing some remnants of Frederick the Great's monarchy to continue. There is, however, one point on which Napoleon has been unfairly judged, particularly regarding the 1807 campaign. It has been suggested that he should have restored the kingdom of Poland at that time, and it is certainly regrettable for the interests of France and Europe that it wasn’t restored. But when a desire, even one based on solid reasoning, isn’t realized, should we assume that the desired outcome should be achieved regardless of obstacles? At that time, during the Tilsit campaign, there were insurmountable challenges.







      If, however, by the Treaty of Tilsit, the throne of Poland was not
      restored to serve as a barrier between old Europe and the Empire of the
      Czars, Napoleon founded a Kingdom of Westphalia, which he gave to the
      young 'ensigne de vaisseau' whom he had scolded as a schoolboy, and whom
      he now made a King, that he might have another crowned prefect under his
      control. The Kingdom of Westphalia was composed of the States of
      Hesse-Cassel, of a part of the provinces taken from Prussia by the
      moderation of the Emperor, and of the States of Paderborn, Fulda,
      Brunswick, and a part of the Electorate of Hanover. Napoleon, at the same
      time, though he did not like to do things by halves, to avoid touching the
      Russian and Austrian provinces of old Poland, planted on the banks of the
      Vistula the Grand Duchy of Warsaw, which he gave to the King of Saxony,
      with the intention of increasing or destroying it afterwards as he might
      find convenient. Thus he allowed the Poles to hope better things for the
      future, and ensured to himself partisans in the north should the chances
      of fortune call him thither. Alexander, who was cajoled even more than his
      father had been by what I may call the political coquetry of Napoleon,
      consented to all these arrangements, acknowledged 'in globo' all the kings
      crowned by the Emperor, and accepted some provinces which had belonged to
      his despoiled ally, the King of Prussia, doubtless by way of consolation
      for not having been able to get more restored to Prussia. The two Emperors
      parted the best friends in the world; but the Continental system was still
      in existence.
    
If, however, the Treaty of Tilsit did not restore the throne of Poland to act as a barrier between old Europe and the Empire of the Czars, Napoleon established a Kingdom of Westphalia, which he handed over to the young naval ensign he had criticized as a schoolboy, now made a King, so he could have another crowned leader under his control. The Kingdom of Westphalia included the states of Hesse-Cassel, parts of the provinces taken from Prussia due to the Emperor’s moderation, and the states of Paderborn, Fulda, Brunswick, and part of the Electorate of Hanover. At the same time, since he preferred to take decisive actions, to avoid interfering with the Russian and Austrian regions of old Poland, he set up the Grand Duchy of Warsaw on the banks of the Vistula and gave it to the King of Saxony, intending to expand or diminish it later as he saw fit. This way, he let the Poles hope for a better future and secured supporters in the north should fortune lead him there. Alexander, who was even more charmed than his father by what I might call Napoleon's political flirtation, agreed to all these arrangements, acknowledged all the kings crowned by the Emperor in general, and accepted some provinces that had belonged to his robbed ally, the King of Prussia, likely as consolation for not being able to restore more to Prussia. The two Emperors parted as the best of friends; however, the Continental system was still in place.








 


 




















      CHAPTER XII.
    



      1807.
    
1807.


   Effect produced at Altona by the Treaty of Tilsit—The Duke of
   Mecklenburg-Schwerin's departure from Hamburg—English squadron in
   the Sound—Bombardment of Copenhagen—Perfidy of England—Remark of
   Bonaparte to M. Lemercier—Prussia erased from the map—Napoleon's
   return to Paris—Suppression of the Tribunate—Confiscation of
   English merchandise—Nine millions gained to France—M. Caulaincourt
   Ambassador to Russia—Repugnance of England to the intervention of
   Russia—Affairs of Portugal—Junot appointed to command the army—
   The Prince Regent's departure for the Brazils—The Code Napoleon—
   Introduction of the French laws into Germany—Leniency of Hamburg
   Juries—The stolen cloak and the Syndic Doormann.

   Effect produced at Altona by the Treaty of Tilsit—The Duke of  
   Mecklenburg-Schwerin's departure from Hamburg—English squadron in  
   the Sound—Bombardment of Copenhagen—Perfidy of England—Remark of  
   Bonaparte to M. Lemercier—Prussia erased from the map—Napoleon's  
   return to Paris—Suppression of the Tribunate—Confiscation of  
   English merchandise—Nine million gained for France—M. Caulaincourt  
   Ambassador to Russia—Reluctance of England to the intervention of  
   Russia—Affairs of Portugal—Junot appointed to lead the army—  
   The Prince Regent's departure for Brazil—The Code Napoleon—  
   Introduction of French laws into Germany—Leniency of Hamburg  
   Juries—The stolen cloak and the Syndic Doormann.







      The Treaty of Tilsit, as soon as it was known at Altona, spread
      consternation amongst the emigrants. As to the German Princes, who were
      awaiting the issue of events either at Altolna or Hamburg, when they
      learned that a definitive treaty of peace had been signed between France
      and Russia, and that two days after the Treaty of Tilsit the Prussian
      monarchy was placed at the mercy of Napoleon, every courier that arrived
      threw them into indescribable agitation. It depended on the Emperor's will
      whether they were to be or not to be. The Duke of Mecklenburg- Schwerin
      had not succeeded in getting himself re-established in his states, by an
      exceptional decision, like the Duke of Weimar; but at length he obtained
      the restitution of his territory at the request of the Emperor Alexander,
      and on the 28th of July he quitted Hamburg to return to his Duchy.
    
The Treaty of Tilsit, as soon as it was known in Altona, caused panic among the emigrants. As for the German princes, who were waiting for the outcome of events in either Altona or Hamburg, when they found out that a definitive peace treaty had been signed between France and Russia, and that just two days after the Treaty of Tilsit, the Prussian monarchy was left at Napoleon's mercy, every courier that arrived sent them into a state of indescribable agitation. Their fate depended entirely on the Emperor's will. The Duke of Mecklenburg-Schwerin hadn’t managed to get reinstated in his territories by an exceptional decision like the Duke of Weimar; however, he eventually gained back his land at the request of Emperor Alexander, and on July 28th, he left Hamburg to return to his duchy.







      The Danish charge d'affaires communicated to me about the same time an
      official report from his Government. This report announced that on Monday,
      the 3d of August, a squadron consisting of twelve ships of the line and
      twelve frigates, commanded by Admiral Gambier, had passed the Sound. The
      rest of the squadron was seen in the Categat. At the same time the English
      troops which were in the island of Rugen had reembarked. We could not then
      conceive what enterprise this considerable force had been sent upon. But
      our uncertainty was soon at an end. M. Didelot, the French Ambassador at
      Copenhagen, arrived at Hamburg, at nine o'clock in the evening of the 12th
      of August. He had been fortunate enough to pass through the Great Belt,
      though in sight of the English, without being stopped. I forwarded his
      report to Paris by an extraordinary courier.
    
The Danish charge d'affaires informed me around the same time about an official report from his Government. This report stated that on Monday, August 3rd, a squadron made up of twelve ships of the line and twelve frigates, led by Admiral Gambier, had passed through the Sound. The rest of the squadron was spotted in the Kattegat. Meanwhile, the English troops stationed on the island of Rugen had reembarked. We couldn't then figure out what mission this significant force had been sent for. However, our uncertainty was quickly resolved. M. Didelot, the French Ambassador in Copenhagen, arrived in Hamburg at nine o'clock in the evening on August 12th. He had managed to pass through the Great Belt, even while being observed by the English, without being stopped. I sent his report to Paris via an urgent courier.







      The English had sent 20,000 men and twenty-seven vessels into the Baltic;
      Lord Cathcart commanded the troops. The coast of Zealand was blockaded by
      ninety vessels. Mr. Jackson, who had been sent by England to negotiate
      with Denmark, which she feared would be invaded by the French troops,
      supported the propositions he was charged to offer to Denmark by a
      reference to this powerful British force. Mr. Jackson's proposals had for
      their object nothing less than to induce the King of Denmark to place in
      the custody of England the whole of his ships and naval stores. They were,
      it is true, to be kept in deposit, but the condition contained the words,
      "until the conclusion of a general peace," which rendered the period of
      their restoration uncertain. They were to be detained until such
      precautions should be no longer necessary. A menace and its execution
      followed close upon this demand. After a noble but useless resistance, and
      a terrific bombardment, Copenhagen surrendered, and the Danish fleet was
      destroyed. It would be difficult to find in history a more infamous and
      revolting instance of the abuse of power against weakness.
    
The English sent 20,000 troops and twenty-seven ships into the Baltic; Lord Cathcart was in charge of the troops. The coast of Zealand was blockaded by ninety ships. Mr. Jackson, who had been sent by England to negotiate with Denmark, which they feared would be invaded by French forces, supported the proposals he was tasked with offering to Denmark by referencing this powerful British force. Mr. Jackson's proposals aimed to convince the King of Denmark to hand over all his ships and naval supplies to England. They were to be kept in deposit, but the condition included the phrase, "until the conclusion of a general peace," making the timeline for their return uncertain. They would be held until such precautions were no longer needed. A threat and its execution quickly followed this demand. After a brave but futile resistance, and a fierce bombardment, Copenhagen surrendered, and the Danish fleet was destroyed. It would be hard to find a more infamous and shocking example of the abuse of power against the weak in history.







      Sometime after this event a pamphlet entitled "Germania" appeared, which I
      translated and sent to the Emperor. It was eloquently written, and
      expressed the indignation which the conduct of England had excited in the
      author as in every one else.
    
Sometime after this event, a pamphlet called "Germania" came out, which I translated and sent to the Emperor. It was well-written and conveyed the outrage that England's actions had stirred in the author and everyone else.






 —["That expedition," said Napoleon at St. Helena, "showed great
   energy on the part of your Ministers: but setting aside the
   violation of the laws of, nations which you committed—for in fact
   it was nothing but a robbery—I think that it was; injurious to your
   interests, as it made the Danish nation irreconcilable enemies to
   you, and in fact shut you out of the north for three years. When I
   heard of it I said, I am glad of it, as it will embroil England
   irrecoverably with the Northern Powers. The Danes being able to
   join me with sixteen sail of the line was of but little consequence.
   I had plenty of ships, and only wanted seamen, whom you did not
   take, and whom I obtained afterwards, while by the expedition your
   Ministers established their characters as faithless, and as persons
   with whom no engagements, no laws were binding." (Voice from St.
   Helena.)]— 
 —["That expedition," Napoleon said at St. Helena, "showed a lot of energy from your Ministers: but aside from the fact that you violated international laws, which was basically just theft, I believe it was harmful to your interests, as it turned the Danish nation into your irreconcilable enemies and effectively shut you out of the north for three years. When I heard about it, I thought, I'm glad, as it will irreparably embroil England with the Northern Powers. The Danes being able to join me with sixteen ships didn’t matter much. I had plenty of ships; I only needed sailors, whom you didn’t take and whom I got later, while your Ministers by that expedition established themselves as untrustworthy and as people with whom no commitments or laws were binding." (Voice from St. Helena.)]—







      I have stated what were the principal consequences of the Treaty of
      Tilsit; it is more than probable that if the bombardment of Copenhagen had
      preceded the treaty the Emperor would have used Prussia even worse than he
      did. He might have erased her from the list of nations; but he did not do
      so, out of regard to the Emperor Alexander. The destruction of Prussia was
      no new project with Bonaparte. I remember an observation of his to M.
      Lemercier upon that subject when we first went to reside at Malmaison. M.
      Lemercier had been reading to the First Consul some poem in which
      Frederick the Great was spoken of. "You seem to admire him greatly," said
      Bonaparte to M. Lemercier; "what do you find in him so astonishing? He is
      not equal to Turenne."—"General," replied M. Lemercier, "it is not
      merely the warrior that I esteem in Frederick; it is impossible to refrain
      from admiring a man who was a philosopher even on the throne." To this the
      First Consul replied, in a half ill-humoured tone, "Certainly, Lemercier;
      but Frederick's philosophy shall not prevent me from erasing his kingdom
      from the map of Europe." The kingdom of Frederick the Great was not,
      however, obliterated from the map, because the Emperor of Russia would not
      basely abandon a faithful ally who had incurred with him the chances of
      fortune. Prussia then bitterly had to lament the tergiversations which had
      prevented her from declaring herself against France during the campaign of
      Austerlitz.
    
I have outlined the main consequences of the Treaty of Tilsit; it’s highly likely that if the bombardment of Copenhagen had happened before the treaty, the Emperor would have treated Prussia even more harshly than he did. He could have wiped it off the map entirely, but he didn’t, out of respect for Emperor Alexander. Bonaparte had long been considering the destruction of Prussia. I remember him making a comment to M. Lemercier about this when we first moved to Malmaison. M. Lemercier had been reading a poem to the First Consul that mentioned Frederick the Great. "You seem to admire him a lot," Bonaparte said to M. Lemercier; "what do you find so remarkable about him? He doesn’t compare to Turenne."—"General," replied M. Lemercier, "it’s not just the warrior I admire in Frederick; it’s hard not to admire a man who was a philosopher even while on the throne." The First Consul responded, somewhat sulkily, "Certainly, Lemercier; but Frederick's philosophy won't stop me from erasing his kingdom from the map of Europe." However, Frederick the Great’s kingdom wasn’t erased from the map because the Emperor of Russia wouldn’t treacherously abandon a loyal ally who had shared fortune and fate with him. Prussia then had to bitterly regret the indecision that had prevented it from declaring against France during the Austerlitz campaign.







      Napoleon returned to Paris about the end of July after an absence of ten
      months, the longest he had yet made since he had been at the head of the
      French Government, whether as Consul or Emperor. The interview at Tilsit,
      the Emperor Alexander's friendship, which was spoken of everywhere in
      terms of exaggeration, and the peace established on the Continent,
      conferred on Napoleon a moral influence in public opinion which he had not
      possessed since his coronation. Constant in his hatred of deliberative
      assemblies, which he had often termed collections of babblers,
      ideologists, and phrasemongers, Napoleon, on his return to Paris,
      suppressed the Tribunate, which had been an annoyance to him ever since
      the first day of his elevation. The Emperor, who was 'skillful above all
      men in speculating on the favourable disposition of opinion, availed
      himself at this conjuncture of the enthusiasm produced by his interview on
      the Niemen. He therefore discarded from the fundamental institutions of
      the government that which still retained the shadow of a popular
      character. But it was necessary that he should possess a Senate merely to
      vote men; a mute Legislative Body to vote money; that there should be no
      opposition in the one and no criticism in the other; no control over him
      of any description; the power of arbitrarily doing whatever he pleased; an
      enslaved press;—this was what Napoleon wished, and this he obtained.
      But the month of March 1814 resolved the question of absolute power!
    
Napoleon returned to Paris around the end of July after being away for ten months, the longest he had been absent since he became the leader of the French Government, whether as Consul or Emperor. The meeting at Tilsit, Emperor Alexander's friendship—which was talked about everywhere in exaggerated terms—and the peace established in Europe gave Napoleon a level of moral influence in public opinion that he hadn't had since his coronation. Consistently opposed to deliberative assemblies, which he often called groups of chatterers, ideologists, and wordsmiths, Napoleon suppressed the Tribunate upon his return to Paris, which had annoyed him since the start of his reign. The Emperor, who was skilled at predicting the favorable public sentiment, took advantage of the enthusiasm generated by his meeting by the Niemen. He therefore removed anything from the core institutions of government that still had a semblance of a popular character. However, he needed a Senate solely to appoint people; a silent Legislative Body to approve budgets; no opposition in one or criticism in the other; no oversight of any kind; the power to do as he pleased; and a controlled press—this was what Napoleon wanted, and this is what he got. But March 1814 settled the issue of absolute power!







      In the midst of these great affairs, and while Napoleon was dreaming of
      universal monarchy, I beheld in a less extensive sphere the inevitable
      consequences of the ambition of a single man. Pillage and robbery were
      carried on in all parts over which my diplomatic jurisdiction extended.
      Rapine seemed to be legally authorised, and was perpetrated with such
      fury, and at the same time with such ignorance, that the agents were
      frequently unacquainted with the value of the articles which they seized.
      Thus, for example, the Emperor ordered the seizure at Hamburg, Bremen, and
      Lübeck of all English merchandise, whatever might be its nature or origin.
      The Prince of Neufchatel (Berthier) wrote to me from the Emperor that I
      must procure 10,000,000 francs from the Hanse Towns. M. Daru, the
      Intendant-General, whose business it was to collect this sort of levy,
      which Napoleon had learned to make in Egypt, wrote to urge me to obtain a
      prompt and favourable decision. The unfortunate towns which I was thus
      enjoined to oppress had already suffered sufficiently. I had obtained, by
      means of negotiation, more than was demanded for the ransom of the English
      merchandise, which had been seized according to order. Before I received
      the letters of M. Darn and the Prince of Neufchatel I had obtained from
      Hamburg 16,000,000 instead of 10,000,000, besides nearly 3,000,000 from
      Bremen and Lübeck. Thus I furnished the Government with 9,000,000 more
      than had been required, and yet I had so managed that those enormous
      sacrifices were not overoppressive to those who made them. I fixed the
      value of the English merchandise because I knew that the high price at
      which it sold on the Continent would not only cover the proposed ransom
      but also leave a considerable profit. Such was the singular effect of the
      Continental system that when merchandise was confiscated, and when
      afterwards the permission to sell it freely was given, the price fetched
      at the sale was so large that the loss was covered, and even great
      advantage gained.
    
In the middle of these significant events, while Napoleon was envisioning a global monarchy, I witnessed the inevitable fallout from one man's ambition on a smaller scale. Looting and theft occurred everywhere within my diplomatic reach. It seemed that theft was officially sanctioned and was carried out with such intensity, and at the same time with such ignorance, that those responsible often had no idea of the value of the items they were taking. For instance, the Emperor ordered the confiscation of all English goods in Hamburg, Bremen, and Lübeck, regardless of their nature or origin. The Prince of Neufchatel (Berthier) informed me on behalf of the Emperor that I needed to collect 10,000,000 francs from the Hanse Towns. M. Daru, the Intendant-General, whose job was to gather this type of tax, which Napoleon had learned to impose in Egypt, urged me to secure a quick and favorable outcome. The unfortunate towns I was ordered to exploit had already endured enough hardship. Through negotiations, I managed to get more than what was needed for the ransom of the English goods that had been seized per orders. Before I received the letters from M. Daru and the Prince of Neufchatel, I had already secured 16,000,000 from Hamburg instead of 10,000,000, along with nearly 3,000,000 from Bremen and Lübeck. Therefore, I provided the Government with 9,000,000 more than requested, all while ensuring that these substantial sacrifices weren’t too burdensome for those who made them. I determined the value of the English goods because I knew that the high prices at which they sold on the Continent would not only cover the proposed ransom but would also leave a significant profit. Such was the unique outcome of the Continental system that when goods were confiscated, and then later allowed to be sold freely, the selling price was so high that the losses were compensated, and even significant gains were made.







      Peace being concluded with Russia it was necessary to make choice of an
      Ambassador, not only to maintain the new relations of amity between
      Napoleon and Alexander, but likewise to urge on the promised intervention
      of Russia with England,—to bring about reconciliation and peace
      between the Cabinets of Paris and London. The Emperor confided this
      mission to Caulaincourt, with respect to whom there existed an unfounded
      prejudice relating to some circumstances which preceded the death of the
      Duc d'Enghien. This unfortunate and unjust impression had preceded
      Caulaincourt to St. Petersburg, and it was feared that he would not
      experience the reception due to the French Ambassador and to his own
      personal qualities. I knew at the time, from positive information, that
      after a short explanation with Alexander that monarch retained no
      suspicion unfavourable to our Ambassador, for whom he conceived and
      maintained great esteem and friendship.
    
With peace established with Russia, it was necessary to choose an Ambassador, not only to maintain the new friendly relations between Napoleon and Alexander but also to encourage Russia’s promised involvement with England—aiming to achieve reconciliation and peace between the governments of Paris and London. The Emperor entrusted this mission to Caulaincourt, despite there being an incorrect bias related to previous events surrounding the death of the Duc d'Enghien. This unfortunate and unfair perception had followed Caulaincourt to St. Petersburg, and there were concerns that he would not receive the proper acknowledgment expected of the French Ambassador and based on his own personal qualities. At the time, I had reliable information that after a brief discussion with Alexander, the monarch held no lingering negative feelings towards our Ambassador, for whom he held great respect and friendship.







      Caulaincourt's mission was not, in all respects, easy of fulfilment, for
      the invincible repugnance and reiterated refusal of England to enter into
      negotiations with France through the medium of Russia was one of the
      remarkable circumstances of the period of which I am speaking. I knew
      positively that England was determined never to allow Napoleon to possess
      himself of the whole of the Continent,—a project which he indicated
      too undisguisedly to admit of any doubt respecting it. For two years he
      had indeed advanced with rapid strides; but England was not discouraged.
      She was too well aware of the irritation of the sovereigns and the
      discontent of the people not be certain that when she desired it, her
      lever of gold would again raise up and arm the Continent against the
      encroaching power of Napoleon. He, on his part, perceiving that all his
      attempts were fruitless, and that England would listen to no proposals,
      devised fresh plans for raising up new enemies against England.
    
Caulaincourt's mission was not easy to accomplish, as England's strong refusal to enter negotiations with France through Russia was a notable factor during this time. I knew for sure that England was determined to prevent Napoleon from taking control of the entire Continent, a goal he made clear enough that there was no doubt about it. Over the last two years, he had indeed made rapid progress, but England was undeterred. She understood the frustration of the rulers and the discontent of the people well enough to know that when she wanted, her financial influence could once again rally the Continent against Napoleon's growing power. In response to the futility of his attempts and England's unwillingness to entertain any proposals, he sought out new strategies to create new enemies for England.







      It probably is not forgotten that in 1801 France compelled Portugal to
      make common cause with her against England. In 1807 the Emperor did again
      what the First Consul had done. By an inexplicable fatality Junot obtained
      the command of the troops which were marching against Portugal. I say
      against Portugal, for that was the fact, though France represented herself
      as a protector to deliver Portugal from the influence of England. Be that
      as it may, the choice which the Emperor made of a commander astonished
      everybody. Was Junot, a compound of vanity and mediocrity, the fit man to
      be entrusted with the command of an army in a distant country, and under
      circumstances in which great political and military talents were
      requisite? For my own part, knowing Junot's incapacity, I must acknowledge
      that his appointment astonished me. I remember one day, when I was
      speaking on the subject to Bernadotte, he showed me a letter he had
      received from Paris, in which it was said that the Emperor had sent Junot
      to Portugal only for the sake of depriving him of the government of Paris.
      Junot annoyed Napoleon by his bad conduct, his folly, and his incredible
      extravagance. He was alike devoid of dignity—either in feeling or
      conduct. Thus Portugal was twice the place of exile selected by Consular
      and Imperial caprice: first, when the First Consul wished to get rid of
      the familiarity of Lannes; and next, when the Emperor grew weary of the
      misconduct of a favourite.
    
It's probably not forgotten that in 1801 France forced Portugal to ally with her against England. In 1807, the Emperor repeated what the First Consul had done. By some strange twist of fate, Junot was given command of the troops heading to Portugal. I say “heading to Portugal” because that was the truth, even though France claimed to be a protector, trying to free Portugal from England's influence. Regardless, everyone was shocked by the Emperor's choice of commander. Was Junot, a mix of vanity and mediocrity, really the right person to lead an army in a distant country, especially under circumstances that required real political and military skill? Personally, knowing Junot's shortcomings, I found his appointment surprising. I remember one day discussing this with Bernadotte, who showed me a letter he got from Paris, stating that the Emperor had sent Junot to Portugal just to take away his control over Paris. Junot irritated Napoleon with his poor behavior, foolishness, and outrageous extravagance. He lacked dignity—both in feelings and actions. Thus, Portugal became the chosen place of exile due to the whims of both Consular and Imperial powers: first, when the First Consul wanted to distance himself from Lannes, and later when the Emperor grew tired of a favorite's misbehavior.







      The invasion of Portugal presented no difficulty. It was an armed
      promenade and not a war; but how many events were connected with the
      occupation of that country! The Prince Regent of Portugal, unwilling to
      act dishonourably to England, to which he was allied by treaties; and
      unable to oppose the whole power of Napoleon, embarked for Brazil,
      declaring that all defence was useless. At the same time he recommended
      his subjects to receive the French troops in a friendly manner, and said
      that he consigned to Providence the consequences of an invasion which was
      without a motive. He was answered in the Emperor's name that, Portugal
      being the ally of England, we were only carrying on hostilities against,
      the latter country by invading his dominions.
    
The invasion of Portugal was pretty straightforward. It felt more like a military stroll than an actual war; but there were plenty of events tied to the occupation of the country! The Prince Regent of Portugal, not wanting to betray England—his ally through treaties—and knowing he couldn't stand up to Napoleon’s full power, headed to Brazil, stating that defending the country was pointless. At the same time, he encouraged his people to welcome the French troops with open arms and said he was leaving the outcome of this unfounded invasion to fate. In response, it was stated in the Emperor's name that since Portugal was allied with England, we were essentially waging war against England by invading his land.







      It was in the month of November that the code of French jurisprudence,
      upon which the most learned legislators had indefatigably laboured, was
      established as the law of the State, under the title of the Code Napoleon.
      Doubtless this legislative monument will redound to Napoleon's honour in
      history; but was it to be supposed that the same laws would be equally
      applicable throughout so vast an extent as that comprised within the
      French Empire? Impossible as this was, as soon as the Code Napoleon way
      promulgated I received orders to establish it in the Hanse Towns.
    
It was in November that the French legal code, which the most knowledgeable legislators had worked tirelessly on, was established as the law of the State, called the Code Napoleon. Surely this legislative achievement will reflect well on Napoleon in history; but could anyone really believe that the same laws would apply equally across such a vast area as the French Empire? This was impossible, yet as soon as the Code Napoleon was announced, I received orders to implement it in the Hanse Towns.






 —[This great code of Civil Law was drawn up under Napoleon's orders
   and personal superintendence. Much had been prepared under the
   Convention, and the chief merits of it were due to the labours of
   such men as Tronchet; Partatis, Bigot de Preameneu, Maleville,
   Cambacérès, etc. But it was debated under and by Napoleon, who took
   a lively interest in it. It was first called the "Code Civil," but
   is 1807 was named "Code Napoleon," or eventually "Les Cinq Codes de
   Napoleon." When completed in 1810 it included five Codes—the Code
   Civil, decreed March 1803; Code de Procedure Civile, decreed April
   1806; Code de Commerce, decreed September 1807; Code d'Instruction
   Criminelle, decreed November 1808; and the Code Penal, decreed
   February 1810. It had to be retained by the Bourbons, and its
   principles have worked and are slowly working their way into the law
   of every nation. Napoleon was justly proud of this work. The
   Introduction of the Code into the conquered countries was, as
   Bourrienne says, made too quickly. Puymaigre, who was employed in
   the administration of Hamburg after Bourrienne left, says, "I shall
   always remember the astonishment of the Hamburgers when they were
   invaded by this cloud of French officials, who, under every form,
   made researches is their houses, and who came to apply the
   multiplied demands of the fiscal system. Like Proteus, the
   administration could take any shape. To only speak of my
   department, which certainly was not the least odious one, for it was
   opposed to the habits of the Hamburgers and annoyed all the
   industries, no idea can be formed of the despair of the inhabitants,
   subjected to perpetual visits, and exposed to be charged with
   contraventions of the law, of which they knew nothing.

   "Remembering their former laws, they used to offer to meet a charge
   of fraud by the proof of their oath, and could not imagine that such
   a guarantee could be repulsed. When they were independent they paid
   almost nothing, and such was the national spirit, that in urgent
   cases when money was wanted the senate taxed every citizen a certain
   proportion of his income, the tenth or twentieth. A donator
   presided over the recovery of this tax, which was done in a very
   strange manner. A box, covered with a carpet, received the offering
   of every citizen, without any person verifying the sum, and only on
   the simple moral guarantee of the honesty of the debtor, who himself
   judged the sum he ought to pay. When the receipt was finished the
   senate always obtained more than it had calculated on." (Puymaigre,
   pp, 181.)]— 
—[This comprehensive Civil Law code was created under Napoleon's direction and close supervision. A lot had been developed during the Convention, with significant contributions from people like Tronchet, Partatis, Bigot de Preameneu, Maleville, and Cambacérès. However, it was debated and finalized under Napoleon, who was highly interested in it. Initially named the "Code Civil," it was renamed "Code Napoleon" in 1807, and later referred to as "Les Cinq Codes de Napoleon." When it was completed in 1810, it comprised five Codes—the Code Civil, established in March 1803; Code de Procedure Civile, established in April 1806; Code de Commerce, established in September 1807; Code d'Instruction Criminelle, established in November 1808; and the Code Penal, established in February 1810. The Bourbons had to maintain it, and its principles have been gradually integrated into the laws of many nations. Napoleon was rightly proud of this achievement. The introduction of the Code in conquered territories, as Bourrienne noted, was executed too hastily. Puymaigre, who worked in the Hamburg administration after Bourrienne's departure, remarked, "I will always remember the shock of the people of Hamburg when they were overrun by a swarm of French officials who, under various pretexts, searched their homes and enforced the complex demands of the tax system. The administration was as adaptable as Proteus. To speak only of my department, which was certainly one of the most unpleasant, as it conflicted with the local customs and disrupted all industries, it's hard to convey the despair of the residents, who faced constant visits and were at risk of being charged with violations of laws they knew nothing about.

   "Recalling their past laws, they would try to counter accusations of fraud by swearing an oath and couldn't fathom that such a guarantee could be dismissed. When they were independent, they paid almost nothing, and the national spirit was such that in emergencies when money was needed, the senate would levy a tax on each citizen based on a portion of their income, either a tenth or a twentieth. A donor oversaw the collection of this tax, which was done in a rather unusual way. A box, draped with a carpet, received contributions from each citizen, without anyone verifying the amount, relying solely on the debtor's moral integrity to determine the sum they should contribute. Once the collection was done, the senate always ended up receiving more than it had anticipated." (Puymaigre, pp. 181.)]—







      The long and frequent conversations I had on this subject with the
      Senators and the most able lawyers of the country soon convinced me of the
      immense difficulty I should have to encounter, and the danger of suddenly
      altering habits and customs which had been firmly established by time.
    
The lengthy and frequent discussions I had on this topic with the Senators and the most skilled lawyers in the country quickly made me realize the huge challenges I would face and the risks of abruptly changing habits and customs that had been solidly established over time.







      The jury system gave tolerable satisfaction; but the severe punishments
      assigned to certain offences by the Code were disapproved of. Hence
      resulted the frequent and serious abuse of men being acquitted whose guilt
      was evident to the jury, who pronounced them not guilty rather than
      condemn them to a punishment which was thought too severe. Besides, their
      leniency had another ground, which was, that the people being ignorant of
      the new law were not aware of the penalties attached to particular
      offences. I remember that a man who was accused of stealing a cloak at
      Hamburg justified himself on the ground that he committed the offence in a
      fit of intoxication. M. Von Einingen, one of the jury, insisted that the
      prisoner was not guilty, because, as he said, the Syndic Doormann, when
      dining with him one day, having drunk more wine than usual, took away his
      cloak. This defence per Baccho was completely successful. An argument
      founded on the similarity between the conduct of the Syndic and the
      accused, could not but triumph, otherwise the little debauch of the former
      would have been condemned in the person of the latter. This trial, which
      terminated so whimsically, nevertheless proves that the best and the
      gravest institutions may become objects of ridicule when suddenly
      introduced into a country whose habits are not prepared to receive them.
    
The jury system had some level of satisfaction, but the harsh punishments for certain offenses outlined in the Code were generally disapproved. As a result, there were frequent and serious issues with people being acquitted even when their guilt was clear to the jury. They often chose not to convict because they thought the punishment was too harsh. Additionally, their leniency was partly based on the fact that the public, being unaware of the new laws, didn't know the penalties for specific crimes. I recall a case where a man accused of stealing a cloak in Hamburg defended himself by saying he committed the crime while drunk. M. Von Einingen, one of the jurors, argued that the defendant was not guilty because the Syndic Doormann had taken his cloak after drinking more wine than usual while dining with him. This defense worked completely. An argument that pointed out the similarity between the Syndic's behavior and the accused's could not fail to win; otherwise, the Syndic’s minor drunken spree would have been judged through the actions of the defendant. This trial, which ended in such a peculiar way, still shows that even the most respected institutions can become objects of mockery when introduced abruptly in a society that isn't ready for them.







      The Romans very wisely reserved in the Capitol a place for the gods of the
      nations they conquered. They wished to annex provinces and kingdoms to
      their empire. Napoleon, on the contrary, wished to make his empire
      encroach upon other states, and to realise the impossible Utopia of ten
      different nations, all having different customs and languages, united into
      a single State. Could justice, that safeguard of human rights, be duly
      administered in the Hanse Towns when those towns were converted into
      French departments? In these new departments many judges had been
      appointed who did not understand a word of German, and who had no
      knowledge of law. The presidents of the tribunals of Lilbeck, Stade,
      Bremerlehe, and Minden were so utterly ignorant of the German language
      that it was necessary to explain to them all the pleadings in the
      council-chamber. Was it not absurd to establish such a judicial system,
      and above all, to appoint such men in a country so important to France as
      Hamburg and the Hanse Towns? Add to this the impertinence of some
      favourites who were sent from Paris to serve official and legal
      apprenticeships in the conquered provinces, and it may be easily conceived
      what was the attachment of the people to Napoleon the Great.
    
The Romans wisely set aside a place in the Capitol for the gods of the nations they conquered. They aimed to annex provinces and kingdoms to their empire. In contrast, Napoleon wanted his empire to expand into other states and to achieve the unrealistic dream of uniting ten different nations, each with their own customs and languages, into a single State. Could justice, which protects human rights, be properly upheld in the Hanse Towns when they were turned into French departments? In these new departments, many judges were appointed who didn’t understand a word of German and had no legal knowledge. The heads of the courts in Luebeck, Stade, Bremerlehe, and Minden were so completely unfamiliar with the German language that they needed everything explained to them in the council chamber. Wasn’t it ridiculous to set up such a judicial system, especially by appointing such people in a region as significant to France as Hamburg and the Hanse Towns? On top of that, some arrogant favorites sent from Paris to serve official and legal apprenticeships in the conquered provinces further contributed to the negative feelings people had towards Napoleon the Great.








 


 




















      CHAPTER XIII.
    



      1807-1808.
    
1807-1808.


   Disturbed state of Spain—Godoy, Prince of the Peace—Reciprocal
   accusations between the King of Spain and his son—False promise of
   Napoleon—Dissatisfaction occasioned by the presence of the French
   troops—Abdication of Charles IV.—The Prince of the Peace made
   prisoner—Murat at Madrid—Important news transmitted by a
   commercial letter—Murat's ambition—His protection of Godoy—
   Charles IV, denies his voluntary abdication—The crown of Spain
   destined for Joseph—General disapprobation of Napoleon's conduct—
   The Bourbon cause apparently lost—Louis XVIII. after his departure
   from France—As Comte de Provence at Coblentz—He seeks refuge in
   Turin and Verona—Death of Louis XVII—Louis XVIII. refused an
   asylum in Austria, Saxony, and Prussia—His residence at Mittan and
   Warsaw—Alexander and Louis XVIII—The King's departure from Milan
   and arrival at Yarmouth—Determination of the King of England—M.
   Lemercier's prophecy to Bonaparte—Fouché's inquiries respecting
   Comte de Rechteren—Note from Josephine—New demands on the Hanse
   Towns—Order to raise 3000 sailors in Hamburg.

   Disturbed state of Spain—Godoy, Prince of the Peace—Mutual accusations between the King of Spain and his son—False promise from Napoleon—Discontent caused by the presence of French troops—Abdication of Charles IV.—The Prince of the Peace taken prisoner—Murat in Madrid—Important news communicated through a commercial letter—Murat's ambition—His support for Godoy—Charles IV denies his voluntary abdication—The crown of Spain intended for Joseph—General disapproval of Napoleon's actions—The Bourbon cause seems lost—Louis XVIII after leaving France—As Comte de Provence in Coblentz—He seeks refuge in Turin and Verona—Death of Louis XVII—Louis XVIII denied asylum in Austria, Saxony, and Prussia—His stay in Mittan and Warsaw—Alexander and Louis XVIII—The King's departure from Milan and arrival at Yarmouth—Determination of the King of England—M. Lemercier's prophecy to Bonaparte—Fouché's inquiries about Comte de Rechteren—Note from Josephine—New demands from the Hanse Towns—Order to recruit 3000 sailors in Hamburg.







      The disorders of Spain, which commenced about the close of the year 1807,
      in a short time assumed a most complicated aspect. Though far from the
      theatre of events I obtained an intimate knowledge of all the important
      facts connected with the extraordinary transactions in the Peninsula.
      However, as this point of history is one of the most generally, though I
      cannot say the best, known, I shall omit in my notes and memoranda many
      things which would be but repetitions to the reading portion of the
      public. It is a remarkable fact that Bonaparte, who by turns cast his eyes
      on all the States of Europe, never directed his attention to Spain as long
      as his greatness was confined to mere projects. Whenever he spoke of his
      future destiny he alluded to Italy, Germany, the East, and the destruction
      of the English power; but never to Spain. Consequently, when he heard of
      the first symptoms of disorder in the Peninsula he paid but little
      attention to the business, and some time elapsed before he took any part
      in events which subsequently had so great an influence on his fate.
    
The troubles in Spain, which started around the end of 1807, quickly became very complicated. Even though I was far from the action, I learned a lot about all the key details related to the extraordinary events in the Peninsula. However, since this part of history is pretty well-known—though I wouldn’t say the best-known—I’ll skip over many details in my notes that would just repeat what the reading public already knows. It’s interesting to note that Bonaparte, who had his eye on all of Europe, never focused on Spain while his ambitions were just plans. Whenever he mentioned his future, he talked about Italy, Germany, the East, and bringing down British power, but he never mentioned Spain. As a result, when he first heard about the chaos in the Peninsula, he didn’t pay much attention, and it took a while before he got involved in events that would later have a huge impact on his destiny.







      Godoy reigned in Spain under the name of the imbecile Charles IV. He was
      an object of execration to all who were not his creatures; and even those
      whose fate depended upon him viewed him with the most profound contempt.
      The hatred of a people is almost always the just reward of favourites.
      What sentiments, therefore, must have been inspired by a man who, to the
      knowledge of all Spain, owed the favour of the king only to the favours of
      the queen!
    
Godoy ruled in Spain as the inept Charles IV. He was hated by everyone who wasn't part of his inner circle, and even those who relied on him looked at him with deep disdain. The anger of the people is usually a fitting result for favorites. What feelings, then, must have been stirred by a man who, as all of Spain knew, won the king's favor solely through the queen's favors!






 —[Manuel Godoy, originally a private in the guards, became the
   paramour of Charles IV.'s Queen; then a grandee; and then the
   supreme ruler of the State.—Editor of 1836 edition.]— 
—[Manuel Godoy, who started as a private in the guards, became the lover of Queen Charles IV; then he became a grandee; and finally, the ultimate ruler of the State.—Editor of 1836 edition.]—







      Godoy's ascendancy over the royal family was boundless; his power was
      absolute: the treasures, of America were at his command, and he made the
      most infamous use of them. In short, he had made the Court of Madrid one
      of those places to which the indignant muse of Juvenal conducts the mother
      of Britanicus. There is no doubt that Godoy was one of the principal
      causes of all the misfortunes which have overwhelmed Spain under so many
      various forms.
    
Godoy's rise to power over the royal family was limitless; his authority was total: he had access to America's riches and used them in the most notorious ways. In short, he turned the Court of Madrid into one of those places that the outraged muse of Juvenal leads the mother of Britanicus to. There's no doubt that Godoy was one of the main reasons for all the disasters that have struck Spain in so many different ways.







      The hatred of the Spaniards against the Prince of the Peace was general.
      This hatred was shared by the Prince the Asturias,—[Afterwards
      Ferdinand VII.]—who openly declared himself the enemy of Godoy. The
      latter allied himself with France, from which he hoped to obtain powerful
      protection against his enemies. This alliance gave rise to great
      dissatisfaction in Spain, and caused France to be regarded with an
      unfavourable eye. The Prince of the Asturias was encouraged and supported
      by the complaints of the Spaniards, who wished to see the overthrow of
      Godoy's power. Charles IV., on his part, regarded all opposition to the
      Prince of the Peace as directed against himself, and in November 1807 he
      accused his son of wishing to dethrone him.
    
The Spaniards' hatred for the Prince of the Peace was widespread. This resentment was also felt by the Prince of Asturias—[Later Ferdinand VII.]—who openly declared himself an enemy of Godoy. Godoy allied himself with France, hoping to gain strong protection against his opponents. This alliance led to significant discontent in Spain and resulted in a negative perception of France. The Prince of Asturias was encouraged and bolstered by the complaints of the Spaniards, who wanted to see Godoy’s power toppled. Charles IV, for his part, viewed any opposition to the Prince of the Peace as a direct challenge to himself, and in November 1807, he accused his son of trying to overthrow him.







      The King of Spain did not confine himself to verbal complaints. He, or
      rather the Prince of the Peace, acting in his name, arrested the warmest
      partisans of the Prince of the Asturias. The latter, understanding the
      sentiments of his father, wrote to Napoleon, soliciting his support. Thus
      the father and son, at open war, were appealing one against another for
      the support of him who wished only to get rid of them both, and to put one
      of his brothers in their place, that he might have one junior more in the
      college of European kings: but, as I have already mentioned, this new
      ambition was not premeditated; and if he gave the throne of Spain to his
      brother Joseph it was only on the refusal of his brother Louis (King of
      Holland) to accept it.
    
The King of Spain didn’t just make complaints. He, or more accurately the Prince of the Peace acting on his behalf, arrested the strongest supporters of the Prince of the Asturias. The latter, knowing his father's feelings, reached out to Napoleon for support. So, the father and son, at war with each other, were both seeking the backing of someone who only wanted to eliminate them both and place one of his brothers in the throne, so he could have another junior member in the group of European kings. However, as I mentioned before, this new ambition wasn’t planned. He only gave the throne of Spain to his brother Joseph because his other brother Louis (King of Holland) refused to take it.







      The Emperor had promised to support Charles IV against his son; and, not
      wishing to take part in these family quarrels, he had not answered the
      first letters of the Prince of the Asturias. But finding that the
      intrigues of Madrid were taking a serious turn, he commenced provisionally
      by sending troops to Spain. This gave offence to the people, who were
      averse to the interference of France. In the provinces through which the
      French troops passed it was asked what was the object: of the invasion.
      Some attributed it to the Prince of the Peace, others to the Prince of the
      Asturias; but it excited general indignation, and troubles broke out at
      Madrid accompanied by all the violence peculiar to the Spanish character.
    
The Emperor had promised to back Charles IV against his son, and not wanting to get involved in these family disputes, he hadn't replied to the first letters from the Prince of Asturias. However, seeing that the schemes in Madrid were escalating, he started by sending troops to Spain on a provisional basis. This upset the locals, who were against France's interference. In the provinces where the French troops moved through, people questioned the purpose of the invasion. Some blamed it on the Prince of the Peace, while others pointed fingers at the Prince of Asturias; but it sparked widespread anger, and unrest broke out in Madrid, marked by the typical violence of the Spanish temperament.







      In these fearful circumstances Godoy proposed that Charles IV. should
      remove to Seville, where he would be the better enabled to visit the
      factious with punishment. A proposition from Godoy to his master was, in
      fact, a command, and Charles IV. accordingly resolved to depart. The
      people now looked upon Godoy as a traitor. An insurrection broke out, the
      palace was surrounded, and the Prince of the Peace was on the point of
      being massacred in an upper apartment, where he had taken refuge.
    
In these frightening circumstances, Godoy suggested that Charles IV should move to Seville, where he would be better able to punish the rebels. A suggestion from Godoy to his king was essentially a command, so Charles IV decided to leave. The people now viewed Godoy as a traitor. An uprising occurred, the palace was surrounded, and the Prince of the Peace was on the verge of being killed in an upper room, where he had taken refuge.






 —[French troops had appeared in again some months before, on their
   way to Portugal, the conquest of which country by Junot was to be
   aided by Godoy and a Spanish force of 27,000 men, according to a
   treaty (more disgraceful to the Court of Spain than to Bonaparte)
   which had been ratified at Fontainebleau on the 27th of October
   1807. Charles IV. was little better than an idiot, and Godoy and
   the French made him believe that Bonaparte world give part, or the
   whole of Portugal, to Spain. At the time of Junot's march on Lisbon
   a reserve of 40,000 French troops were assembled at Bayonne—
   a pretty clear indication, though the factious infatuated Court of
   Madrid would not see it, that Bonaparte intended to seize the whole
   of the Peninsula.—Editor of 1838 edition.]— 
 —[French troops had shown up a few months earlier, on their way to Portugal, where Junot's conquest was set to be supported by Godoy and a Spanish force of 27,000 men, according to a treaty (more shameful for the Spanish Court than for Bonaparte) that was ratified at Fontainebleau on October 27, 1807. Charles IV. was not much smarter than a fool, and Godoy along with the French convinced him that Bonaparte would give part, or maybe all, of Portugal to Spain. At the time of Junot's march on Lisbon, a reserve of 40,000 French troops was gathered at Bayonne—a pretty clear sign, although the deluded Court of Madrid refused to acknowledge it, that Bonaparte planned to take control of the entire Peninsula.—Editor of 1838 edition.]—







      One of the mob had the presence of mind to invoke in his favour the name
      of the Prince of the Asturias: this saved his life.
    
One of the guys had the quick thinking to bring up the name of the Prince of Asturias: that saved his life.







      Charles IV. did not preserve his crown; he was easily intimidated, and
      advantage was taken of a moment of alarm to demand that abdication which
      he had not spirit to refuse. He surrendered up his rights to his son, and
      thus was overthrown the insolent power of the Prince of the Peace; the
      favourite was made prisoner, and the Spaniards, who, like all ignorant
      people, are easily excited, manifested their joy on the occasion with
      barbarous enthusiasm. Meanwhile the unfortunate King, who had escaped from
      imaginary rather than real dangers, and who was at first content with
      having exchanged the right of reigning for the right of living, no sooner
      found himself in safety than he changed, his mind. He wrote to the Emperor
      protesting against his abdication, and appealed. to him as the arbiter of
      his future fate.
    
Charles IV didn’t hold onto his crown; he was easily intimidated, and when a moment of panic hit, he couldn’t refuse the demand for his abdication. He handed over his rights to his son, which brought down the arrogant power of the Prince of the Peace; the favorite was imprisoned, and the Spaniards, who, like all uninformed people, are easily stirred up, showed their joy with wild enthusiasm. Meanwhile, the unfortunate King, who had escaped from dangers that were more imaginary than real, and who initially felt okay with trading the right to rule for the right to live, changed his mind as soon as he felt safe. He wrote to the Emperor, protesting against his abdication and appealing to him as the judge of his future.







      During these internal dissensions the French army was continuing its march
      towards the Pyrenees. Those barriers were speedily crossed, and Murat
      entered Madrid in the beginning of April 1808. Before I received any
      despatch from our Government I learned that Murat's presence in Madrid,
      far from producing a good effect, had only increased the disorder. I
      obtained this information from a merchant of Lübeck who came to Hamburg on
      purpose to show me a letter he had received from his correspondent in
      Madrid. In this letter Spain was said to be a prey which Murat wished to
      appropriate to himself; and all that afterwards came to my knowledge
      served only to prove the accuracy of the writer's information. It was
      perfectly true that Murat wished to conquer Spain for himself, and it is
      not astonishing that the inhabitants of Madrid should have understood his
      designs, for he carried his indiscretion so far as openly to express his
      wish to become King of Spain. The Emperor was informed of this, and gave
      him to understand, in very significant terms, that the throne of Spain was
      not destined for him, but that he should not be forgotten in the disposal
      of other crowns.
    
During these internal conflicts, the French army continued its march toward the Pyrenees. Those obstacles were quickly crossed, and Murat entered Madrid in early April 1808. Before I received any communication from our Government, I learned that Murat's presence in Madrid, rather than having a positive effect, only intensified the chaos. I got this information from a merchant from Lübeck who came to Hamburg specifically to show me a letter he had received from his contact in Madrid. In this letter, it was mentioned that Spain was a prize Murat wanted to claim for himself; everything I learned later confirmed the accuracy of the writer's claims. It was absolutely true that Murat wanted to conquer Spain for himself, and it's no surprise that the people of Madrid caught on to his intentions, as he was indiscreet enough to openly express his desire to become King of Spain. The Emperor was made aware of this and made it very clear to him that the throne of Spain was not meant for him, but he shouldn’t worry as he wouldn’t be overlooked for other crowns.







      However, Napoleon's remonstrances were not sufficient to restrain the
      imprudence of Murat; and if he did not gain the crown of Spain for himself
      he powerfully contributed to make Charles IV. lose it. That monarch, whom
      old habits attached to the Prince of the Peace, solicited the Emperor to
      liberate his favourite, alleging that he and his family would be content
      to live in any place of security provided Godoy were with them. The
      unfortunate Charles seemed to be thoroughly disgusted with greatness.
    
However, Napoleon's complaints weren't enough to hold back Murat's rashness; and while he didn't take the crown of Spain for himself, he did play a significant role in ensuring that Charles IV lost it. That king, who was still tied to the Prince of the Peace by old habits, asked the Emperor to free his favorite, claiming that he and his family would be happy to live anywhere safe as long as Godoy was with them. The unfortunate Charles appeared to be completely fed up with being in power.







      Both the King and Queen so earnestly implored Godoy's liberation that
      Murat, whose vanity was flattered by these royal solicitations, took the
      Prince of the Peace under his protection; but he at the same time declared
      that, in spite of the abdication of Charles IV., he would acknowledge none
      but that Prince as King of Spain until he should receive contrary orders
      from the Emperor. This declaration placed Murat in formal opposition to
      the Spanish people, who, through their hatred of Godoy, embraced the cause
      of the heir of the throne; in whose favour Charles IV. had abdicated.
    
Both the King and Queen urgently requested Godoy's release, leading Murat, whose ego was boosted by these royal appeals, to take the Prince of the Peace under his wing. However, he simultaneously stated that, despite Charles IV's abdication, he would recognize only that Prince as the King of Spain until he received different orders from the Emperor. This declaration put Murat in direct conflict with the Spanish people, who, fueled by their animosity towards Godoy, supported the claim of the heir to the throne, for whom Charles IV had stepped down.







      It has been remarked that Napoleon stood in a perplexing situation in this
      conflict between the King and his son. This is not correct. King Charles,
      though he afterwards said that his abdication had been forced from him by
      violence and threats, had nevertheless tendered it. By this act Ferdinand
      was King, but Charles declared it was done against his will, and he
      retracted. The Emperor's recognition was wanting, and he, could give or
      withhold it as he pleased.
    
It has been noted that Napoleon was in a tricky position in the conflict between the King and his son. This isn’t accurate. King Charles, although he later claimed that his abdication was forced upon him through violence and threats, had nonetheless offered it. With this action, Ferdinand became King, but Charles insisted it was against his wishes and took it back. The Emperor's recognition was missing, and he had the power to grant or withhold it as he chose.







      In this state of things Napoleon arrived at Bayonne. Thither Ferdinand was
      also invited to go, under pretence of arranging with the Emperor the
      differences between his father and himself. It was some time before he
      could form his determination, but at length his ill-advised friends
      prevailed on him to set off, and he was caught in the snare. What happened
      to him, as well as to his father, who repaired to Bayonne with his
      inseparable friend the Prince of the Peace is well known. Napoleon, who
      had undertaken to be arbiter between the father and son, thought the best
      way of settling the difference was to give the disputed throne to his
      brother Joseph, thus verifying the fable of the "Two Lawyers and the
      Oyster." The insurrection in Madrid on the 2d of May accelerated the fate
      of Ferdinand, who was accused of being the author of it; at least this
      suspicion fell on his friends and adherents.
    
In this situation, Napoleon arrived in Bayonne. Ferdinand was also invited to come, supposedly to discuss the issues between him and his father with the Emperor. It took him a while to make up his mind, but eventually, his misguided friends convinced him to leave, and he fell into the trap. What happened to him, as well as to his father, who went to Bayonne with his close friend the Prince of the Peace, is well known. Napoleon, who had agreed to mediate between the father and son, thought the best way to resolve the conflict was to give the disputed throne to his brother Joseph, confirming the saying about "Two Lawyers and the Oyster." The uprising in Madrid on May 2 sped up Ferdinand's downfall, as he was blamed for instigating it; at least, that suspicion fell on his friends and supporters.







      Charles IV., it was said, would not return to Spain, and solicited an
      asylum in France. He signed a renunciation of his rights to the crown of
      Spain, which renunciation was also signed by the Infantas.
    
Charles IV was said to be unwilling to go back to Spain and sought asylum in France. He signed a document giving up his claim to the Spanish crown, which was also signed by the Infantas.







      Napoleon now issued a decree, appointing "his dearly beloved brother
      Joseph Napoleon, King of Naples and Sicily, to the crowns of Spain and the
      Indies." By a subsequent decree, 15th of July, he appointed "his
      dearly-beloved cousin, Joachim Murat, Grand Duke of Berg, to the throne of
      Naples and Sicily, which remained vacant by the accession of Joseph
      Napoleon to the kingdoms of Spain and the Indies." Both these documents
      are signed Napoleon, and countersigned by the Minister Secretary of State,
      Maret.
    
Napoleon now issued a decree, appointing "his beloved brother Joseph Napoleon, King of Naples and Sicily, to the crowns of Spain and the Indies." In a follow-up decree on July 15th, he appointed "his dear cousin, Joachim Murat, Grand Duke of Berg, to the throne of Naples and Sicily, which was left vacant by Joseph Napoleon's accession to the kingdoms of Spain and the Indies." Both of these documents are signed by Napoleon and countersigned by the Minister Secretary of State, Maret.







      The Prince Royal of Sweden, who was at Hamburg at this time, and the
      Ministers of all the European power, loudly condemned the conduct of
      Napoleon with respect to Spain. I cannot say whether or not M. de
      Talleyrand advised the Emperor not to attempt the overthrow of a branch of
      the house of Bourbon; his good sense and elevated views might certainly
      have suggested that advice. But the general opinion was that, had he
      retained the portfolio of foreign affairs, the Spanish revolution would
      have terminated with more decorum and good faith than was exhibited in the
      tragi-comedy acted at Madrid and Bayonne.
    
The Crown Prince of Sweden, who was in Hamburg at that time, along with the ministers from all the European powers, openly criticized Napoleon's actions regarding Spain. I can't say for sure if M. de Talleyrand advised the Emperor against trying to overthrow a branch of the Bourbon family; his sound judgment and high-minded perspective might have led him to offer that advice. However, the general belief was that if he had kept the foreign affairs portfolio, the Spanish revolution would have ended with more dignity and integrity than what was shown in the tragicomedy that unfolded in Madrid and Bayonne.







      After the Treaty of Tilsit and the bonds of friendship which seemed likely
      to produce a permanent union between the Emperors of France and Russia,
      the cause of the Bourbons must have been considered irretrievably lost.
      Indeed, their only hope consisted in the imprudence and folly of him who
      had usurped their throne, and that hope they cherished. I will here relate
      what I had the opportunity of learning respecting the conduct of Louis
      XVIII. after his departure from France; this will naturally bring me to
      the end of November 1807, at which time I read in the Abeille du Nord
      published on the 9th of the same month, that the Comte de Lille and the
      Duc d'Angouleme had set off for England.
    
After the Treaty of Tilsit and the friendship that seemed to promise a lasting alliance between the Emperors of France and Russia, the Bourbon cause must have seemed hopeless. In fact, their only chance lay in the reckless actions of the man who had taken their throne, and they clung to that hope. I will share what I discovered about Louis XVIII’s actions after he left France; this naturally brings me to the end of November 1807, when I read in the Abeille du Nord, published on the 9th of that month, that Comte de Lille and Duc d'Angoulême had set out for England.







      The Comte de Provence, as Louis' title then went, left Paris on the 21st
      of June 1791. He constantly expressed his wish of keeping as near as
      possible to the frontiers of France. He at first took up his abode at
      Coblentz, and I knew from good authority that all the emigrants did not
      regard him with a favourable eye. They could not pardon the wise.
      principles he had professed at a period when there was yet time to
      prevent, by reasonable concession, the misfortunes which imprudent
      irritation brought upon France. When the emigrants, after the campaign of
      1792, passed the Rhine, the Comte de Provence resided in the little town
      of Ham on the Lippe, where he remained until he was persuaded that the
      people of Toulon had called him to Provence. As he could not, of course,
      pass through France, Monsieur repaired to the Court of his father-in-law,
      the King of Sardinia, hoping to embark at Genoa, and from thence to reach
      the coast of Provence. But the evacuation of Toulon, where the name of
      Bonaparte was for the first time sounded by the breath of fame, having
      taken place before he was able to leave Turin, Monsieur remained there
      four months, at the expiration of which time his father-in-law intimated
      to him the impossibility of his remaining longer in the Sardinian States.
      He was afterwards permitted to reside at Verona, where he heard of Louis
      XVI.'s death. After remaining two years in that city the Senate of Venice
      forbade his presence in the Venetian States. Thus forced to quit Italy the
      Comte repaired to the army of Condé.
    
The Comte de Provence, as Louis was known at the time, left Paris on June 21, 1791. He often expressed his desire to stay as close to France's borders as possible. Initially, he settled in Coblentz, and I learned from reliable sources that not all the emigrants had a favorable opinion of him. They couldn't forgive the wise principles he had supported at a time when reasonable concessions could have prevented the misfortunes that reckless anger brought upon France. After the 1792 campaign, when the emigrants crossed the Rhine, the Comte de Provence lived in the small town of Ham on the Lippe, where he stayed until he was convinced that the people of Toulon had called him back to Provence. Since he couldn't pass through France, Monsieur went to the court of his father-in-law, the King of Sardinia, hoping to set sail from Genoa and reach the coast of Provence from there. However, the evacuation of Toulon, where Bonaparte’s name first gained significant attention, occurred before he could leave Turin. Monsieur stayed there for four months, at the end of which his father-in-law indicated that he could no longer stay in the Sardinian States. He was then allowed to reside in Verona, where he learned about Louis XVI's death. After spending two years in that city, the Senate of Venice prohibited him from being in the Venetian States. Forced to leave Italy, the Comte joined the army of Condé.







      The cold and timid policy of the Austrian Cabinet afforded no asylum to
      the Comte de Provence, and he was obliged to pass through Germany; yet, as
      Louis XVIII. repeated over and over again, ever since the Restoration, "He
      never intended to shed French blood in Germany for the sake of serving
      foreign interests." Monsieur had, indeed, too much penetration not to see
      that his cause was a mere pretext for the powers at war with France. They
      felt but little for the misfortunes of the Prince, and merely wished to
      veil their ambition and their hatred of France under the false pretence of
      zeal for the House of Bourbon.
    
The cautious and fearful approach of the Austrian government offered no refuge to the Comte de Provence, forcing him to travel through Germany. However, as Louis XVIII repeatedly stated since the Restoration, "He never meant to spill French blood in Germany just to serve foreign interests." Monsieur was insightful enough to recognize that his cause was just a facade for the nations at war with France. They cared little for the Prince's misfortunes and only wanted to disguise their ambitions and resentment toward France under the false guise of loyalty to the House of Bourbon.







      When the Dauphin died, Louis XVIII. took the title of King of France, and
      went to Prussia, where he obtained an asylum.
    
When the Dauphin died, Louis XVIII took the title of King of France and went to Prussia, where he found refuge.






 —[His brother, Charles X., the youngest of the three grandsons of
   Louis XV. (Louis XVI., Louis XVIII. Charles X.), the Comte
   d'Artois, afterwards Charles X. emigrated in 1789, and went to
   Turin and Mantas for 1789 and 1790. In 1791 and 1792 he lived at
   Coblenta, Worms, Brussels, Vienna, and at Turin. From 1792 to 1812
   he lived at Ham on the Lippe at Westphalia at London, and for most
   of the time at Holyrood, Edinburgh. During this time he visited
   Russia and Germany, and showed himself on the coast of France. In
   1818 he went to Germany, and in 1814 entered France in rear of the
   allies. In risking his person in the daring schemes of the
   followers who were giving their lives for the cause of his family he
   displayed a circumspection which was characterised by them with
   natural warmth.

   "Sire, the cowardice of your brother has ruined all;" so Charette is
   said to have written to Louis XVIII.]— 
—[His brother, Charles X, the youngest of the three grandsons of Louis XV (Louis XVI, Louis XVIII, Charles X), the Comte d'Artois, later Charles X, fled in 1789 and moved to Turin and Mantas in 1789 and 1790. In 1791 and 1792, he lived in Coblentz, Worms, Brussels, Vienna, and Turin. From 1792 to 1812, he resided in Ham on the Lippe in Westphalia, London, and mostly at Holyrood, Edinburgh. During this period, he traveled to Russia and Germany and made appearances on the coast of France. In 1818, he went to Germany, and in 1814, he entered France behind the allies. By putting himself at risk in the bold plans of his supporters who were sacrificing themselves for his family's cause, he showed a level of caution that they recognized with sincere admiration.

   "Sire, your brother's cowardice has ruined everything," Charette is said to have written to Louis XVIII.]—  







      But the pretender to the crown of France had not yet drained his cup of
      misfortune. After the 18th Fructidor the Directory required the King of
      Prussia to send away Louis XVIII., and the Cabinet of Berlin, it must be
      granted, was not in a situation to oppose the desire of the French
      Government, whose wishes were commands. In vain Louis XVIII. sought an
      asylum in the King of Saxony's States. There only remained Russia that
      durst offer a last refuge to the descendant of Louis XIV. Paul I., who was
      always in extremes, and who at that time entertained a violent feeling of
      hatred towards France, earnestly offered Louis XVIII., a residence at
      Mittau. He treated him with the honours of a sovereign, and loaded him
      with marks of attention and respect. Three years had scarcely passed when
      Paul was seized with mad enthusiasm for the man who twelve years later,
      ravaged his ancient capital, and Louis XVIII. found himself expelled from
      that Prince's territory with a harshness equal to the kindness with which
      he had at first been received.
    
But the pretender to the French crown had not yet exhausted his misfortune. After the 18th of Fructidor, the Directory required the King of Prussia to expel Louis XVIII., and the Berlin government, it must be admitted, was not in a position to defy the wishes of the French Government, which were treated as commands. Louis XVIII. sought refuge in the Kingdom of Saxony in vain. Only Russia dared to offer a final haven for the heir of Louis XIV. Paul I., who was often extreme and, at that time, harbored a strong hatred for France, earnestly offered Louis XVIII. a residence in Mittau. He treated him with the honors of a sovereign and overwhelmed him with attention and respect. Just three years barely passed before Paul became irrationally enthusiastic for the man who, twelve years later, would devastate his ancient capital, and Louis XVIII. found himself expelled from that prince’s territory with a severity equal to the kindness he had initially received.







      It was during, his three, years' residence at Mittau that Louis XVIII.,
      who was then known by the title of Comte de Lille, wrote to the First
      Consul those letters which have been referred to in these Memoirs.
      Prussia, being again solicited, at length consented that Louis XVIII.
      should reside at Warsaw; but on the accession of Napoleon to the Empire
      the Prince quitted that residence in order to consult respecting his new
      situation with the only sovereign who had not deserted him in his
      misfortune, viz. the King of Sweden. They met at Colmar, and from that
      city was dated the protest which I have already noticed. Louis XVIII. did
      not stay long in the States of the King of Sweden. Russia was now on the
      point of joining her eagles with those of Austria to oppose the new eagles
      of imperial France. Alexander offered to the Comte de Lille the asylum
      which Paul had granted to him and afterwards withdrawn. Louis XVIII.
      accepted the offer, but after the peace of Tilsit, fearing lest Alexander
      might imitate the second act of his father as well as the first, he
      plainly saw that he must give up all intention of residing on the
      Continent; and it was then that I read in the 'Abeille du Nord' the
      article before alluded to. There is, however, one fact upon which I must
      insist, because I know it to be true, viz. that it was of his own free
      will that Louis XVIII. quitted Mittau; and if he was afraid that Alexander
      would imitate his father's conduct that fear was without foundation. The
      truth is, that Alexander was ignorant even of the King's intention to go
      away until he heard from Baron von Driesen, Governor of Mittau, that he
      had actually departed. Having now stated the truth on this point I have to
      correct another error, if indeed it be only an error, into which some
      writers have fallen. It has been falsely alleged that the King left Mittau
      for the purpose of fomenting fresh troubles in France. The friends of
      Louis XVIII., who advised him to leave Mittau, had great hopes from the
      last war. They cherished still greater hopes from the new wars which
      Bonaparte's ambition could not fail to excite, but they were not so
      ill-informed respecting the internal condition of France as to expect that
      disturbances would arise there, or even to believe in the possibility of
      fomenting them. The pear was not yet ripe for Louis XVIII.
    
It was during his three years living in Mittau that Louis XVIII, then known as the Comte de Lille, wrote to the First Consul the letters mentioned in these Memoirs. After being asked again, Prussia finally agreed that Louis XVIII should stay in Warsaw; however, when Napoleon rose to power, the Prince left that place to discuss his new situation with the only ruler who had not abandoned him in his misfortune—the King of Sweden. They met in Colmar, and the protest I’ve already mentioned was sent from that city. Louis XVIII didn’t stay long in the territory of the King of Sweden. Russia was about to team up with Austria to oppose the new imperial power of France. Alexander offered the Comte de Lille the asylum that Paul had initially given him and later withdrew. Louis XVIII accepted this offer, but after the peace of Tilsit, worried that Alexander might follow in his father's footsteps regarding asylum, he realized he would have to give up any plans of living in Europe. It was then that I read the article previously mentioned in the 'Abeille du Nord.' However, I want to emphasize one fact I know to be true: it was entirely Louis XVIII's decision to leave Mittau; any fears he had that Alexander would mimic his father's actions were unfounded. In fact, Alexander did not even know the King was planning to leave until he heard from Baron von Driesen, the Governor of Mittau, that he had already gone. Now that I’ve clarified this, I need to correct another misconception that some writers have mistakenly stated. They falsely claimed that the King left Mittau to stir up new troubles in France. Louis XVIII's supporters, who advised him to leave Mittau, were very hopeful about the last war. They had even greater expectations from the new conflicts that Bonaparte's ambitions would certainly cause, but they were not so naive about the internal situation in France to think disturbances would break out there or that they could incite them. The timing just wasn’t right for Louis XVIII.







      On the 29th of November the contents of a letter which had arrived from
      London by way of Sweden were communicated to me. This letter was dated the
      3d of November, and contained some particulars respecting the Comte de
      Lille's arrival in England. That Prince had arrived at Yarmouth on the
      31st of October 1807, and it was stated that the King was obliged to wait
      some time in the port until certain difficulties respecting his landing
      and the continuance of his journey should be removed. It moreover appeared
      from this letter that the King of England thought proper to refuse the
      Comte de Lille permission to go to London or its neighbourhood. The palace
      of Holyrood in Edinburgh was assigned as his place of residence; and Mr.
      Ross, secretary to Mr. Canning, conveyed the determination of the King of
      England to Louis XVIII., at Yarmouth.
    
On November 29th, I was informed about the contents of a letter that had arrived from London via Sweden. This letter, dated November 3rd, included some details about the Comte de Lille’s arrival in England. He had reached Yarmouth on October 31, 1807, and it was noted that the King had to wait for a while in the port due to certain issues regarding his landing and travel. The letter also indicated that the King of England decided to deny the Comte de Lille permission to go to London or its surrounding areas. The palace of Holyrood in Edinburgh was designated as his residence, and Mr. Ross, secretary to Mr. Canning, communicated the King of England’s decision to Louis XVIII in Yarmouth.







      The precaution of the English Ministry in not permitting the refugee King
      to go near London appeared to me remarkable, considering the relative
      position of the Governments of France and England, and I regarded it as a
      corroboration of what the Prince Wittgenstein had told me respecting Mr.
      Canning's inclination for an amicable arrangement. But the moment was
      approaching when the affairs of Spain were to raise an invincible obstacle
      to peace, to complicate more than ever the interests of the powers of
      Europe, and open to Napoleon that vast career of ambition which proved his
      ruin. He did not allow the hopes of the emigrants to remain chimerical,
      and the year 1814 witnessed the realization of the prophetic remark made
      by M. Lemereier, in a conversation with Bonaparte a few days before the
      foundation of the Empire: "If you get into the bed of the Bourbons,
      General, you will not lie in it ten year." Napoleon occupied it for nine
      years and nine months.
    
The caution shown by the English government in not allowing the refugee King near London struck me as significant, especially given the situation between France and England. I saw it as confirmation of what Prince Wittgenstein had told me about Mr. Canning's desire for a peaceful resolution. However, the time was approaching when events in Spain would create an insurmountable barrier to peace, complicating the interests of European powers even further and opening up a vast path of ambition for Napoleon that ultimately led to his downfall. He didn’t let the hopes of the exiles remain unrealistic, and the year 1814 saw the fulfillment of M. Lemereier's prophetic comment made during a conversation with Bonaparte just days before the Empire was established: "If you get into bed with the Bourbons, General, you won't stay there for ten years." Napoleon was in power for nine years and nine months.







      Fouché, the grand investigator of the secrets of Europe, did not fail, on
      the first report of the agitations in Spain, to address to me question on
      question respecting the Comte de Rechteren, the Spanish Minister at
      Hamburg, who, however, had left that city, with the permission of his
      Court, four months after I had entered on my functions. This was going
      back very far to seek information respecting the affairs of the day. At
      the very moment when I transmitted a reply to Fouché which was not
      calculated to please him, because it afforded no ground for suspicion as
      to the personal conduct of M. de Rechteren, I received from the amiable
      Josephine a new mark of her remembrance. She sent me the following note:
    
Fouché, the top investigator of Europe’s secrets, didn’t hesitate, upon hearing about the unrest in Spain, to throw question after question at me about Comte de Rechteren, the Spanish Minister in Hamburg, who had actually left that city, with his government's permission, four months after I started my role. It was quite a stretch to dig up information about the current events. Just as I was sending Fouché a response that I knew wouldn’t please him, since it gave no reason to suspect M. de Rechteren’s personal conduct, I received a lovely note from Josephine that reminded me of her. She wrote me the following message:







      "M. Milon, who is now in Hamburg, wishes me, my dear Bourrienne, to
      request that you will use your interest in his favour. I feel the more
      pleasure in making this request as it affords me an opportunity of
      renewing the assurance of my regard for you."
    
"M. Milon, who is currently in Hamburg, asks me, my dear Bourrienne, to request that you use your influence on his behalf. I am especially pleased to make this request as it gives me the chance to reaffirm my affection for you."







      Josephine's letter was dated from Fontainebleau, whither the Emperor used
      to make journeys in imitation of the old Court of France. During these
      excursions he sometimes partook of the pleasures of the chase, but merely
      for the sake of reviving an old custom, for in that exercise he found as
      little amusement as Montaigne did in the game of chess.
    
Josephine's letter was dated from Fontainebleau, where the Emperor often traveled to mimic the old Court of France. During these trips, he sometimes enjoyed the thrill of the hunt, but only to keep up an old tradition, as he found just as little enjoyment in it as Montaigne did in playing chess.







      At Fontainebleau, as everywhere else, his mind was engaged with the means
      of augmenting his greatness, but, unfortunately, the exactions he imposed
      on distant countries were calculated to alienate the affections of the
      people. Thus, for example, I received an order emanating from him, and
      transmitted to me by M. Daru, the Intendant-General of the army, that the
      pay of all the French troops stationed in the Hanse Towns should be
      defrayed by these towns. I lamented the necessity of making such a
      communication to the Senates of Bremen, Lübeck, and Hamburg; but my duty
      compelled me to do so, and I had long been accustomed to fulfil duties
      even more painful than this. I tried every possible means with the three
      States, not collectively but separately, to induce them to comply with the
      measure, in the hope that the assent of one would help me to obtain that
      of the two others. But, as if they, had been all agreed, I only received
      evasive expressions of regret.
    
At Fontainebleau, just like everywhere else, he was focused on how to increase his greatness. Unfortunately, the demands he placed on distant countries were bound to turn the people against him. For example, I received an order from him, conveyed to me by M. Daru, the Intendant-General of the army, that the pay for all the French troops stationed in the Hanse Towns should be covered by these towns. I regretted having to send such a message to the Senates of Bremen, Lübeck, and Hamburg, but my duty required it, and I had long been used to handling even more difficult responsibilities. I tried every possible approach with the three states, not all at once but individually, hoping that getting one of them on board would help get the others to agree. However, it was like they had all coordinated their response, as I only received vague statements of regret.







      Knowing as I did, and I may say better than any one else, the hopes and
      designs of Bonaparte respecting the north of Germany, it was not without
      pain, nor even without alarm, that I saw him doing everything calculated
      to convert into enemies the inhabitants of a country which would always
      have remained quiet had it only been permitted to preserve its neutrality.
      Among the orders I received were often many which could only have been the
      result of the profoundest ignorance. For example, I was one day directed
      to press 3000 seamen in the Hanse Towns. Three thousand seamen out of a
      population of 200,000! It was as absurd as to think of raising 500,000
      sailors in France. This project being impossible, it was of course not
      executed; but I had some difficulty in persuading the Emperor that a sixth
      of the number demanded was the utmost the Hanse Towns could supply. Five
      hundred seamen were accordingly furnished, but to make up that number it
      was necessary to include many men who were totally unfit for war service.
    
Knowing what I did, and I can say better than anyone else, the hopes and plans of Bonaparte regarding northern Germany, it was not without pain, nor even without concern, that I watched him do everything that would turn the people of that country into enemies, which would have remained peaceful if only allowed to keep its neutrality. Among the orders I received were often many that could only come from the deepest ignorance. For instance, one day I was instructed to enlist 3,000 sailors from the Hanse Towns. Three thousand sailors out of a population of 200,000! It was as ridiculous as thinking about raising 500,000 sailors in France. This plan being impossible, it obviously wasn’t carried out; but I had some trouble convincing the Emperor that a sixth of the requested number was the most the Hanse Towns could provide. Five hundred sailors were supplied, but to reach that number, it was necessary to include many men who were completely unfit for military service.








 


 




















      CHAPTER—XIV.
    



      1808.
    
1808.


   Departure of the Prince of Ponte-Corvo—Prediction and superstition
   —Stoppage of letters addressed to the Spanish troops—La Romana and
   Romanillos—Illegible notifications—Eagerness of the German Princes
   to join the Confederation of the Rhine—Attack upon me on account of
   M. Hue—Bernadotte's successor in Hamburg—Exactions and tyrannical
   conduct of General Dupas—Disturbance in Hamburg—Plates broken in a
   fit of rage—My letter to Bernadotte—His reply—Bernadotte's return
   to Hamburg, and departure of Dupas for Lübeck—Noble conduct of the
   'aide de camp' Barrel.

   Departure of the Prince of Ponte-Corvo—Prediction and superstition  
   —Halt on letters sent to the Spanish troops—La Romana and Romanillos—  
   Illegible notifications—German Princes eager to join the Confederation of the Rhine—  
   Attack on me due to M. Hue—Bernadotte's successor in Hamburg—  
   Exploits and oppressive behavior of General Dupas—Unrest in Hamburg—  
   Plates smashed in a fit of rage—My letter to Bernadotte—His response—  
   Bernadotte's return to Hamburg, and Dupas's departure for Lübeck—  
   Noble actions of aide de camp Barrel.







      In the spring of 1808 a circumstance occurred which gave, me much
      uneasiness; it was the departure of Bernadotte, Prince of Ponte-Corvo, who
      received orders to repair to Copenhagen. He left Hamburg on the 8th of
      March, as he was to reach his destination on the 14th of the same month.
      The Danish charge d'affaires also received orders to join the Prince, and
      discharge the functions of King's commissary. It was during his government
      at Hamburg and his stay in Jutland that Bernadotte unconsciously paved his
      way to the throne of Sweden. I recollect that he had also his presages and
      his predestinations. In short, he believed in astrology, and I shall never
      forget the serious tone in which he one day said to me, "Would you
      believe, my dear friend, that it was predicted at Paris that I should be a
      King, but that I must cross the sea to reach my throne?" I could not help
      smiling with him at this weakness of mind, from which Bonaparte was not
      far removed. It certainly was not any supernatural influence which
      elevated Bernadotte to sovereign rank. That elevation was solely due to
      his excellent character. He had no other talisman than the wisdom of his
      government, and the promptitude which he always, showed to oppose unjust
      measures. This it was that united all opinions in his favour.
    
In the spring of 1808, something happened that made me quite uneasy; it was the departure of Bernadotte, Prince of Ponte-Corvo, who received orders to go to Copenhagen. He left Hamburg on March 8th, intending to reach his destination by March 14th. The Danish charge d'affaires also got orders to join the Prince and take on the role of the King's commissioner. During his time as governor in Hamburg and his stay in Jutland, Bernadotte unknowingly set himself on the path to becoming the King of Sweden. I remember he had his own beliefs about destiny and signs. In fact, he believed in astrology, and I’ll never forget the serious way he once said to me, "Would you believe, my dear friend, that it was predicted in Paris that I would be a King, but that I must cross the sea to reach my throne?" I couldn't help but share a smile with him at this quirk of his mind, which Bonaparte also exhibited. It certainly wasn't any supernatural force that elevated Bernadotte to royalty. That rise was entirely due to his outstanding character. He had no other advantage than the wisdom of his leadership and the readiness he always showed to stand against unjust actions. That is what earned him support from all sides.







      The bad state of the roads in the north prolonged Bernadotte's journey one
      day. He set out on the 8th of March; he was expected to arrive at
      Copenhagen on the 14th, but did not reach there till the 15th. He arrived
      precisely two hours before the death of Christian, King of Denmark, an
      event with which he made me acquainted by letter written two days after
      his arrival.
    
The poor condition of the roads up north delayed Bernadotte's trip by one day. He left on March 8th; he was supposed to get to Copenhagen on the 14th, but he didn't arrive until the 15th. He got there just two hours before the death of Christian, King of Denmark, which he informed me about in a letter written two days after he arrived.







      On the 6th of April following I received a second letter from Bernadotte,
      in which he desired me to order the Grand Ducal postmaster to keep back
      all letters addressed to the Spanish troops, who had been placed under his
      command, and of which the corps of Romana formed part. The postmaster was
      ordered to keep the letters until he received orders to forward them to
      their destinations. Bernadotte considered this step indispensable, to
      prevent the intrigues which he feared might be set on foot in order to
      shake the fidelity of the Spaniards he commanded. I saw from his despatch
      that he feared the plotting of Romanillos, who, however, was not a person
      to cause much apprehension. Romanillos was as commonplace a man as could
      well be conceived; and his speeches, as well as his writings, were too
      innocent to create any influence on public opinion.
    
On April 6th, I got a second letter from Bernadotte, in which he asked me to instruct the Grand Ducal postmaster to hold back all letters addressed to the Spanish troops under his command, including the corps of Romana. The postmaster was told to keep the letters until he got instructions to send them to their destinations. Bernadotte thought this action was essential to prevent any schemes he worried might arise to undermine the loyalty of the Spaniards he led. From his message, I could see he was concerned about Romanillos plotting, but Romanillos wasn’t someone who would cause much worry. He was as ordinary a person as one could imagine, and both his speeches and writings were too innocent to have any real impact on public opinion.







      In addition to the functions with which the Emperor at first invested me,
      I had to discharge the duties of French Consul-General at Hamburg, and in
      that character I was obliged to present to the Minister for Foreign
      Affairs a very singular request, viz. that the judicial notifications,
      which as Consul-General I had to make known to the people of Hamburg,
      might be written in a more legible hand. Many of these notifications had
      been disregarded on account of the impossibility of reading them: With
      respect to one of them it was declared that it was impossible to discover
      whether the writing was German, French, or Chinese.
    
Besides the roles the Emperor initially assigned to me, I also had to fulfill the responsibilities of French Consul-General in Hamburg. In that capacity, I was required to submit a rather unusual request to the Minister for Foreign Affairs: that the judicial notifications I needed to share with the people of Hamburg be written in a clearer handwriting. Many of these notifications had been ignored because they were impossible to read. In fact, one of them was said to be so unclear that it was impossible to tell if the writing was in German, French, or Chinese.







      I shall not record all the acts of spoliation committed by second-rate
      ambitious aspirants who hoped to come in for their share in the division
      of the Continent: The Emperor's lieutenants regarded Europe as a
      twelfthcake, but none of them ventured to dispute the best bit with
      Napoleon. Long would be the litany were I to enregister all the fraud and
      treachery which they committed, either to augment their fortunes or to win
      the favour of the chief who wished to have kings for his subjects. The
      fact is, that all the Princes of Germany displayed the greatest eagerness
      to range themselves under the protection of Napoleon, by, joining the
      Confederation of the Rhine. I received from those Princes several letters
      which served to prove at once the influence of Napoleon in Germany and the
      facility with which men bend beneath the yoke of a new power. I must say
      that among the emigrants who remained faithful to their cause there were
      some who evinced more firmness of character than the foreign Princes. I
      may mention, for example, M. Hue, the 'valet de chambre' of Louis XVI. I
      do not intend to deny the high regard I entertained for that faithful
      servant of the martyred King; but the attentions which I congratulate
      myself on having shown to an excellent man should not have subjected me to
      false imputations.
    
I won’t list all the greedy moves made by less important ambitious types who wanted to get their slice of the Continent: The Emperor’s representatives saw Europe as a twelfth cake, but none dared claim the best piece from Napoleon. It would take a long time to detail all the deception and betrayal they committed, whether to boost their wealth or gain the favor of the leader who wanted kings as his subjects. The truth is, all the Princes of Germany were very eager to put themselves under Napoleon’s protection by joining the Confederation of the Rhine. I received several letters from those Princes that illustrated both Napoleon's influence in Germany and how easily people submit to a new power. I have to say that among the emigrants who stayed loyal to their cause, some showed more strength of character than the foreign Princes. For example, I can mention M. Hue, the 'valet de chambre' of Louis XVI. I don’t mean to deny the high regard I had for that loyal servant of the martyred King; however, the kindness I took pride in showing to an excellent man shouldn't have led to false accusations about me.







      I have read the following statement in a publication:
    
I saw this statement in a publication:






   "M. Hue retired to Hamburg, where he passed nine, months in perfect
   obscurity. He afterwards went to Holland, provided with a passport
   from Bourrienne, who was Napoleon's Minister, though in disgrace,
   and who, foreseeing what was to happen, sought to ingratiate himself
   in the favour of the Bourbons."

"M. Hue moved to Hamburg, where he spent nine months in complete obscurity. He then traveled to Holland, equipped with a passport from Bourrienne, who was Napoleon's Minister, though out of favor, and who, anticipating what was to come, tried to win the favor of the Bourbons."







      The above passage contains a falsehood in almost every line. M. Hue wished
      to reside in Hamburg, but he did not wish to conceal himself. I invited
      him to visit me, and assured him that he might remain in Hamburg without
      apprehension, provided he acted prudently. He wished to go to Holland, and
      I took upon myself to give him a passport. I left M. Hue in the free
      management of his business, the nature of which I knew very well, and
      which was very honourable; he was deputed to pay the pensions which Louis
      XVIII. granted to the emigrants. As for myself, I had tendered my
      resignation of private secretary to Bonaparte; and even admitting I was in
      disgrace in that character, I was not so as Minister and Consul-General at
      Hamburg. My situation, which was of little consequence at the time I was
      appointed to it, was later on rendered exceedingly important by
      circumstances. It was, in fact, a sort of watch-tower of the Government,
      whence all the movements of northern Germany were observed; and during my
      residence in the Hanse Towns I continually experienced the truth of what
      Bonaparte said to me at my farewell audience—"Yours is a place
      independent and apart."
    
The passage above contains a falsehood in almost every line. M. Hue wanted to live in Hamburg, but he didn’t want to hide. I invited him to visit and assured him that he could stay in Hamburg without fear, as long as he acted carefully. He wanted to go to Holland, and I took it upon myself to give him a passport. I left M. Hue to manage his business, which I knew well and which was very respectable; he was tasked with paying the pensions that Louis XVIII awarded to the emigrants. As for me, I had resigned from my position as private secretary to Bonaparte, and even if I was out of favor in that role, I was not in my position as Minister and Consul-General in Hamburg. My role, which seemed unimportant when I was appointed, later became very significant due to circumstances. It was like a watchtower for the Government, where all the movements in northern Germany were monitored; during my time in the Hanse Towns, I continually experienced the truth of what Bonaparte told me during my farewell meeting—"Yours is a place independent and apart."







      It is absurd to say that the kindness I showed to M. Hue was an attempt to
      ingratiate myself with the Bourbons. My attentions to him were dictated
      solely by humanity, unaccompanied by any afterthought. Napoleon had given
      me his confidence, and by mitigating the verity of his orders I served him
      better than they who executed them in a way which could not fail to render
      the French Government odious. If I am accused of extending every possible
      indulgence to the unfortunate emigrants, I plead guilty; and, far from
      wishing to defend myself against the charge, I consider it honourable to
      me. But I defy any one of them to say that I betrayed in their favour the
      interests with which I was entrusted. They who urged Bonaparte to usurp
      the crown of France served, though perhaps unconsciously, the cause of the
      Bourbons. I, on the contrary, used all my endeavours to dissuade him from
      that measure, which I clearly saw must, in the end, lead to the
      restoration, though I do not pretend that I was sufficiently clear-sighted
      to guess that Napoleon's fall was so near at hand. The kindness I showed
      to M. Hue and his companions in misfortune was prompted by humanity, and
      not by mean speculation. As well might it be said that Bernadotte, who,
      like myself, neglected no opportunity of softening the rigour of the
      orders he was deputed to execute, was by this means working his way to the
      throne of Sweden.
    
It's ridiculous to say that the kindness I showed to M. Hue was an attempt to win favor with the Bourbons. My attention to him was driven purely by compassion, without any ulterior motives. Napoleon had trusted me, and by softening the harshness of his orders, I served him better than those who carried them out in a way that could only make the French Government seem terrible. If I'm accused of giving as much leniency as possible to the unfortunate emigrants, I admit it; and rather than defending myself against that claim, I see it as something to be proud of. However, I challenge any of them to say that I compromised the interests I was responsible for in their favor. Those who encouraged Bonaparte to seize the crown of France inadvertently supported the Bourbons. I, on the other hand, did everything I could to dissuade him from that course, which I clearly saw would eventually lead to their restoration, even though I can't claim that I predicted Napoleon's downfall was so close. The kindness I showed to M. Hue and his fellow exiles was motivated by compassion, not by selfish ambition. It would be just as absurd to claim that Bernadotte, who, like me, seized every chance to ease the severity of the orders he had to carry out, was trying to climb to the throne of Sweden.







      Bernadotte had proceeded to Denmark to take the command of the Spanish and
      French troops who had been removed from the Hanse Towns to occupy that
      kingdom, which was then threatened by the English. His departure was a
      great loss to me, for we had always agreed respecting the measures to be
      adopted, and I felt his absence the more sensibly when I was enabled to
      make a comparison between him and his successor. It is painful to me to
      detail the misconduct of those who injured the French name in Germany, but
      in fulfilment of the task I have undertaken, I am bound to tell the truth.
    
Bernadotte went to Denmark to take command of the Spanish and French troops that had been moved from the Hanse Towns to occupy that kingdom, which was then under threat from the English. His departure was a significant loss for me, as we had always agreed on the measures to take, and I felt his absence even more keenly when I compared him to his successor. It’s hard for me to talk about the misconduct of those who tarnished the French reputation in Germany, but since I’ve committed to sharing the truth, I must do so.







      In April 1808 General Dupas came to take the command of Hamburg, but only
      under the orders of Bernadotte, who retained the supreme command of the
      French troops in the Hanse Towns. By the appointment of General Dupas the
      Emperor cruelly thwarted the wishes and hopes of the inhabitants of Lower
      Saxony. That General said of the people of Hamburg, "As long as I see
      those . . . driving in their carriages I can get money from them." It is,
      however, only just to add, that his dreadful exactions were not made on
      his own account, but for the benefit of another man to whom he owed his
      all, and to whom he had in some measure devoted his existence.
    
In April 1808, General Dupas took command of Hamburg, but only under the orders of Bernadotte, who held the top command of the French troops in the Hanse Towns. By appointing General Dupas, the Emperor cruelly dashed the hopes of the people of Lower Saxony. That General remarked about the people of Hamburg, "As long as I see those... driving in their carriages, I can get money from them." However, it’s fair to add that his terrible demands were not for his own gain but for the benefit of another man to whom he owed everything and to whom he had in a way dedicated his life.







      I will state some particulars respecting the way in which the generals who
      commanded the French troops at Hamburg were maintained. The Senate of
      Hamburg granted to the Marshals thirty friederichs a day for the expenses
      of their table exclusive of the hotel in which they were lodged by the
      city. The generals of division had only twenty friederichs. General Dupas
      wished to be provided for on the same footing as the Marshals. The Senate
      having, with reason, rejected this demand, Dupas required that he should
      be daily served with a breakfast and a dinner of thirty covers. This was
      an inconceivable burden, and Dupas cost the city more than any of his
      predecessors.
    
I will share some details about how the generals who led the French troops in Hamburg were taken care of. The Senate of Hamburg gave the Marshals thirty friederichs a day for their meal expenses, not including the hotel where they stayed, provided by the city. The division generals only received twenty friederichs. General Dupas wanted to be treated the same way as the Marshals. The Senate reasonably turned down this request, so Dupas insisted that he be provided with a daily breakfast and dinner for thirty people. This was an incredible strain, and Dupas ended up costing the city more than any of his predecessors.







      I saw an account of his expenses, which during the twenty-one weeks he
      remained at Hamburg amounted to 122,000 marks, or about 183,000 francs.
      None but the most exquisite wines were drunk at the table of Dupas. Even
      his servants were treated with champagne, and the choicest fruits were
      brought from the fine hothouses of Berlin. The inhabitants were irritated
      at this extravagance, and Dupas accordingly experienced the resistance of
      the Senate.
    
I saw a record of his expenses, which during the twenty-one weeks he stayed in Hamburg totaled 122,000 marks, or about 183,000 francs. Only the finest wines were served at Dupas's table. Even his staff enjoyed champagne, and the best fruits were sourced from the top greenhouses in Berlin. The locals were frustrated by this extravagance, leading to Dupas facing pushback from the Senate.







      Among other vexations there was one to which the people could not readily
      submit. In Hamburg, which had formerly been a fortified town, the custom
      was preserved of closing the gates at nightfall. On Sundays they were
      closed three-quarters of an hour later, to avoid interrupting the
      amusements of the people.
    
Among other frustrations, there was one that the people couldn’t easily tolerate. In Hamburg, which used to be a fortified town, the tradition of closing the gates at night was still in place. On Sundays, they stayed shut for an extra forty-five minutes to avoid disrupting the people’s leisure activities.







      While General Dupas was Governor of Hamburg an event occurred which
      occasioned considerable irritation in the public mind, and might have been
      attended by fatal consequences. From some whim or other the General
      ordered the gates to be closed at seven in the evening, and consequently
      while it was broad daylight, for it was in the middle of spring; no
      exception was made in favour of Sunday, and on that day a great number of
      the inhabitants who had been walking in the outskirts of the city
      presented themselves at the gate of Altona for admittance. To their
      surprise they found the gate closed, though it was a greater thoroughfare
      than any other gate in Hamburg. The number of persons, requiring
      admittance increased, and a considerable crowd soon collected. After
      useless entreaties had been addressed to the chief officer of the post the
      people were determined to send to the Commandant for the keys. The
      Commandant arrived, accompanied by the General. When they appeared it was
      supposed they had come for the purpose of opening the gates, and they were
      accordingly saluted with a general hurrah! which throughout almost all the
      north is the usual cry for expressing popular satisfaction. General Dupas
      not understanding the meaning of this hurrah! supposed it to be a signal
      for sedition, and instead of ordering the gates to be opened he commanded
      the military to fire upon the peaceful citizens, who only wanted to return
      to their homes. Several persons were killed, and others more or less
      seriously wounded. Fortunately, after this first discharge the fury of
      Dupas was appeased; but still he persisted in keeping the gates closed at
      night. Next day an order was posted about the city prohibiting the cry of
      hurrah! under pain of a severe punishment. It was also forbidden that more
      than three persona should collect together in the streets. Thus it was
      that certain persons imposed the French yoke upon towns and provinces
      which were previously happy.
    
While General Dupas was Governor of Hamburg, an event happened that caused a lot of public frustration and could have had serious consequences. For some reason, the General ordered the gates to be closed at seven in the evening, even though it was broad daylight since it was the middle of spring. There were no exceptions made for Sunday, and that day, many residents who had been walking on the outskirts of the city tried to enter through the Altona gate. To their surprise, they found the gate shut, even though it was a major thoroughfare compared to other gates in Hamburg. As more people requested to be let in, a large crowd quickly gathered. After trying in vain to persuade the chief officer at the post, the crowd decided to send for the Commandant to get the keys. The Commandant arrived with the General. When they appeared, people thought they had come to open the gates and greeted them with a cheer, which is a common expression of satisfaction in much of the North. General Dupas, not understanding the cheer, mistakenly believed it was a sign of rebellion, and instead of ordering the gates opened, he commanded the military to fire on the peaceful citizens who just wanted to go home. Several people were killed, and others were injured to varying degrees. Fortunately, after this first gunfire, Dupas calmed down; however, he continued to keep the gates closed at night. The next day, an order was posted around the city banning the cheer under threat of severe punishment. It was also prohibited for more than three people to gather in the streets. This is how certain individuals enforced the French rule upon towns and provinces that were once content.







      Dupas was as much execrated in the Hanse Towns as Clarke had been in
      Berlin when he was governor of that capital during the campaign of 1807.
      Clarke had burdened the people of Berlin with every kind of oppression and
      exaction. He, as well as many others, manifested a ready obedience in
      executing the Imperial orders, however tyrannical they might be; and
      Heaven knows what epithets invariably accompanied the name of Clarke when
      pronounced by the lips of a Prussian.
    
Dupas was just as hated in the Hanse Towns as Clarke had been in Berlin when he was governor during the 1807 campaign. Clarke had subjected the people of Berlin to all sorts of oppression and demands. He, like many others, showed willing compliance in carrying out the Imperial orders, no matter how cruel they might be; and God knows what insults were always associated with Clarke's name when it was spoken by a Prussian.







      Dupas seemed to have taken Clarke as his model. An artillery officer, who
      was in Hamburg at the time of the disturbance I have just mentioned, told
      me that it was he who was directed to place two pieces of light-artillery
      before the gate of Altona. Having executed this order, he went to General
      Dupas, whom he found in a furious fit of passion, breaking and destroying
      everything within his reach. In the presence of the officer he broke more
      than two dozen plates which were on the table before him: these plates, of
      course, had cost him very little!
    
Dupas seemed to have modeled himself after Clarke. An artillery officer, who was in Hamburg during the disturbance I just mentioned, told me that he was ordered to set up two pieces of light artillery in front of the Altona gate. After completing this task, he went to see General Dupas, who was in a raging fit, smashing and destroying everything around him. In front of the officer, he broke more than two dozen plates that were on the table in front of him; these plates, of course, didn’t cost him much!







      On the day after the disturbance which had so fatal a termination I wrote
      to inform the Prince of Porte-Corvo of what had taken place; and in my
      letter I solicited the suppression of an extraordinary tribunal which had
      been created by General Dupas. He returned me an immediate answer,
      complying with my request. His letter was as follows:
    
On the day after the incident that ended so tragically, I wrote to inform the Prince of Porte-Corvo about what happened; in my letter, I requested the abolition of an extraordinary tribunal that General Dupas had set up. He replied right away, agreeing to my request. His letter was as follows:






   I have received your letter, my dear Minister: it forcibly conveys
   the expression of your right feeling, which revolts against
   oppression, severity, and the abase of power. I entirely concur in
   your view of the subject, and I am distressed whenever I see such
   acts of injustice committed. On an examination of the events which
   took place on the 19th it is impossible to deny that the officer who
   ordered the gates to be closed so soon was in the wrong; and next,
   it may be asked, why were not the gates opened instead of the
   military being ordered to fire on the people? But, on the other
   hand, did not the people evince decided obstinacy and
   insubordination? were they not to blame in throwing stones at the
   guard, forcing the palisades, and even refusing to listen to the
   voice of the magistrates? It is melancholy that they should have
   fallen into these excesses, from which, doubtless, they would have
   refrained had they listened to the civil chiefs, who ought to be
   their first directors. Finally, my dear Minister, the Senator who
   distributed money at the gate of Altona to appease the multitude
   would have done better had he advised them to wait patiently until
   the gates were opened; and he might, I think, have gone to the
   Commandant or the General to solicit that concession.

   Whenever an irritated mob resorts to violence there is no safety for
   any one. The protecting power mast then exert its utmost authority
   to stop mischief. The Senate of ancient Rome, so jealous of its
   prerogatives, assigned to a Dictator, in times of trouble, the power
   of life and death, and that magistrate knew no other code than his
   own will and the axe of his lictors. The ordinary laws did not
   resume their course until the people returned to submission.

   The event which took place in Hamburg produced a feeling of
   agitation of which evil-disposed persons might take advantage to
   stir up open insurrection. That feeling could only be repressed by
   a severe tribunal, which, however, is no longer necessary. General
   Dupas has, accordingly, received orders to dissolve it, and justice
   will resume her usual course.
                       J. BERNADOTTE
   DENSEL, 4th May, 1808.

   I’ve received your letter, my dear Minister, and it clearly shows your strong feelings against oppression, harshness, and the abuse of power. I completely agree with your perspective on this issue, and it troubles me whenever I witness such acts of injustice. Looking at the events that occurred on the 19th, it’s clear that the officer who closed the gates too soon was in the wrong. Moreover, one could question why the gates weren’t opened instead of ordering the military to fire on the crowd. However, on the flip side, didn’t the people show clear stubbornness and defiance? Weren’t they at fault for throwing stones at the guards, pushing against the barriers, and ignoring the magistrates' pleas? It’s sad that they resorted to such extremes, which they would likely have avoided if they had heeded the civil leaders who should guide them. Lastly, my dear Minister, the Senator who handed out money at the Altona gate to calm the crowd would have been better off urging them to wait patiently for the gates to open; I believe he could have approached the Commandant or the General to request that concession.

   Whenever an angry mob turns to violence, no one is safe. The governing authority must then use its full power to prevent chaos. The Senate of ancient Rome, which was very protective of its rights, granted a Dictator the power of life and death during crises, and that leader was bound only by his own will and the axe of his lictors. Normal laws didn’t take effect again until the people submitted.

   The incident in Hamburg has created a wave of unrest that could be exploited by troublemakers to incite open rebellion. This unrest can only be controlled by a strong judicial system, which is no longer needed. General Dupas has been ordered to disband it, and justice will return to its normal course.
                       J. BERNADOTTE  
   DENSEL, 4th May, 1808.







      When Bernadotte returned to Hamburg he sent. Dupas to Lübeck. That city,
      which was poorer than Hamburg, suffered cruelly from the visitation of
      such a guest.
    
When Bernadotte got back to Hamburg, he sent Dupas to Lübeck. That city, which was less affluent than Hamburg, suffered greatly from the arrival of such a guest.







      Dupas levied all his exactions in kind, and indignantly spurned every
      offer of accepting money, the very idea of which, he said, shocked his
      delicacy of feeling. But his demands became so extravagant that the city
      of Lübeck was utterly unable to satisfy them. Besides his table, which was
      provided in the same style of profusion as at Hamburg, he required to be
      furnished with plate, linen, wood, and candles; in short, with the most
      trivial articles of household consumption.
    
Dupas demanded all his materials in kind and angrily rejected any offers of money, saying that the very thought of it offended his sense of taste. But his requests became so excessive that the city of Lübeck simply couldn’t meet them. In addition to his lavish meals, which were as extravagant as those in Hamburg, he insisted on having plates, linens, firewood, and candles; in short, even the most basic household items.







      The Senate deputed to the incorruptible General Dupas M. Nolting, a
      venerable old man, who mildly represented to him the abuses which were
      everywhere committed in his name, and entreated that he would vouchsafe to
      accept twenty Louis a day to defray the expenses of his table alone. At
      this proposition General Dupes flew into a rage. To offer him money was an
      insult not to be endured! He furiously drove the terrified Senator out of
      the house, and at once ordered his 'aide de camp' Barrel to imprison him.
      M. de Barrel, startled at this extraordinary order, ventured to
      remonstrate with the General, but in vain; and, though against his heart,
      he was obliged to obey. The aide de camp accordingly waited upon the
      Senator Notting, and overcome by that feeling of respect which gray hairs
      involuntarily inspire in youth, instead of arresting him, he besought the
      old man not to leave his house until he should prevail on the General to
      retract his orders. It was not till the following day that M. de Barrel
      succeeded in getting these orders revoked—that is to say, he
      obtained M. Notting's release from confinement; for Dupas would not be
      satisfied until he heard that the Senator had suffered at least the
      commencement of the punishment to which his capricious fury had doomed
      him.
    
The Senate assigned the honest General Dupas M. Nolting, an elderly man, who gently pointed out the abuses being done in his name and asked him to consider accepting twenty Louis a day just to cover his dining expenses. At this suggestion, General Dupas flew into a rage. Offering him money was an insult he couldn’t tolerate! He angrily kicked the frightened Senator out of his house and immediately ordered his aide-de-camp, Barrel, to imprison him. M. de Barrel, taken aback by this unusual order, tried to argue with the General but to no avail; despite his feelings, he had to comply. The aide-de-camp then approached Senator Notting and, feeling a natural respect for the elderly man, instead of arresting him, he urged the old man not to leave until he could convince the General to take back his orders. It wasn’t until the next day that M. de Barrel managed to get those orders canceled, meaning he secured M. Notting’s release from confinement; however, Dupas wouldn't be satisfied until he knew the Senator had at least experienced the start of the punishment his unpredictable anger had sentenced him to.







      In spite of his parade of disinterestedness General Dupas yielded so far
      as to accept the twenty Louis a day for the expense of his table which M.
      Notting had offered him on the part of the Senate of Lübeck; but it was
      not without murmurings, complaints, and menaces that he made this generous
      concession; and he exclaimed more than once, "These fellows have portioned
      out my allowance for me." Lübeck was not released from the presence of
      General Dupes until the month of March 1809, when he was summoned to
      command a division in the Emperor's new campaign against Austria. Strange
      as it may appear, it is nevertheless the fact, that, oppressive as had
      been his presence at Lübeck, the Hanse Towns soon had reason to regret
      him.
    
Despite his show of indifference, General Dupas eventually agreed to accept the twenty Louis a day for his expenses that Mr. Notting offered on behalf of the Senate of Lübeck. However, he did so with plenty of grumbling, complaints, and threats, exclaiming more than once, "These guys have assigned my allowance for me." Lübeck wasn't free from General Dupas until March 1809 when he was called to lead a division in the Emperor's new campaign against Austria. Odd as it may seem, it is true that, despite how burdensome his presence had been in Lübeck, the Hanse Towns soon found themselves missing him.








 


 




















      CHAPTER XV.
    



      1808.
    
1808.


   Promulgation of the Code of Commerce—Conquests by Status-consulte—
   Three events in one day—Recollections—Application of a line of
   Voltaire—Creation of the Imperial nobility—Restoration of the
   university—Aggrandisement of the kingdom of Italy at the expense of
   Rome—Cardinal Caprara'a departure from Paris—The interview at
   Erfurt.

   Promulgation of the Code of Commerce—Conquests by Status-consulte— Three events in one day—Recollections—Application of a line of Voltaire—Creation of the Imperial nobility—Restoration of the university—Expansion of the kingdom of Italy at the expense of Rome—Cardinal Caprara's departure from Paris—The meeting at Erfurt.







      The year 1808 was fertile in remarkable events. Occupied as I was with my
      own duties, I yet employed my leisure hours in observing the course of
      those great acts by which Bonaparte seemed determined to mark every day of
      his life. At the commencement of 1808 I received one of the first copies
      of the Code of Commerce, promulgated on the 1st of January by the
      Emperor's order. This code appeared to me an act of mockery; at least it
      was extraordinary to publish a code respecting a subject which it was the
      effect of all the Imperial decrees to destroy. What trade could possibly
      exist under the Continental system, and the ruinous severity of the
      customs? The line was already extended widely enough when, by a
      'Senatus-consulte', it was still further widened. The Emperor, to whom all
      the Continent submitted, had recourse to no other formality for the
      purpose of annexing to the Empire the towns of Kehl, Cassel near Mayence,
      Wesel, and Flushing, with the territories depending on them.
    
The year 1808 was full of significant events. While I was focused on my own responsibilities, I still used my free time to watch the major actions that Bonaparte seemed determined to carry out every day of his life. At the beginning of 1808, I received one of the first copies of the Code of Commerce, announced on January 1st by the Emperor’s order. To me, this code felt like a joke; it was at least strange to publish a code about a topic that all the Imperial decrees aimed to eliminate. What kind of trade could possibly exist under the Continental system and the harsh customs regulations? The line was already drawn widely enough when, through a 'Senatus-consulte', it was extended even further. The Emperor, to whom the whole Continent obeyed, used no other formality to annex the towns of Kehl, Cassel near Mainz, Wesel, and Flushing, along with their surrounding territories.






 —[A resolution of the senate, or a "Senatus-consulte" was the means
   invented by Napoleon for altering the imperial Constitutions, and
   even the extent of the Empire. By one of these, dated 21st January
   1808, the towns of Kehl, Cassel, and Wesel, with Flushing, all
   already seized, were definitely united to France. The loss of
   Wesel, which helonged to Murat's Grand Duchy of Berg, was a very
   sore point with Murat.]— 
 —[A resolution of the senate, or a "Senatus-consulte," was the method created by Napoleon for changing the imperial Constitutions and even the boundaries of the Empire. By one of these, dated January 21, 1808, the towns of Kehl, Cassel, and Wesel, along with Flushing, which had already been seized, were officially joined to France. The loss of Wesel, which belonged to Murat's Grand Duchy of Berg, was a significant sore spot for Murat.]—







      These conquests, gained by decrees and senatorial decisions, had at least
      the advantage of being effected without bloodshed. All these things were
      carefully communicated to me by the Ministers with whom I corresponded,
      for my situation at Hamburg had acquired such importance that it was
      necessary I should know everything.
    
These conquests, achieved through edicts and decisions by the Senate, had the benefit of being accomplished without violence. All of this was carefully relayed to me by the Ministers I corresponded with, as my position in Hamburg had become so significant that I needed to be informed about everything.







      At this period I observed among the news which I received from different
      places a singular coincidence of dates, worthy of being noted by the
      authors of ephemrides. On the same day-namely, the 1st of February Paris,
      Lisbon, and Rome were the scenes of events of different kinds, but, as
      they all happened on one day, affording a striking example of the rapidity
      of movement which marked the reign of Bonaparte. At Paris the niece of
      Josephine, Mademoiselle de Tascher, whom Napoleon had lately exalted to
      the rank of Princess, was married to the reigning Prince of Ahremberg,
      while at the same time Junot declared to Portugal that the house of
      Braganza had ceased to reign, and French troops were, under the command of
      General Miollis, occupying Rome. This occupation was the commencement of
      prolonged struggles, during which Pins VII. expiated the condescension he
      had shown in going to Paris to crown Napoleon.
    
During this time, I noticed an interesting coincidence of dates in the news I received from various places, which is worth noting by the authors of timelines. On the same day—specifically, February 1st—Paris, Lisbon, and Rome experienced different events. However, since they all occurred on the same day, it highlighted the speed of events that characterized Bonaparte's reign. In Paris, Josephine's niece, Mademoiselle de Tascher, whom Napoleon had recently elevated to Princess, got married to the reigning Prince of Ahremberg. At the same time, Junot announced to Portugal that the house of Braganza had stopped ruling, while French troops, led by General Miollis, were occupying Rome. This occupation marked the beginning of extended struggles during which Pope Pius VII faced the consequences of his decision to travel to Paris to crown Napoleon.







      Looking over my notes, I see it was the day after these three events
      occurred that Bonaparte gave to his brother-in-law, Prince Borghese, the
      Governorship-General of the departments beyond the Alps which he had just
      founded; and of which he made the eighth Grand Dignitary of the Empire.
      General Menou, whom I had not seen since Egypt, was obliged by this
      appointment to leave Turin, where he had always remained. Bonaparte, not
      wishing to permit him to come to Paris, sent Menou to preside over the
      Junta of Tuscany, of which he soon afterwards made another
      General-Governorship, which he entrusted to the care of his sister Elisa.
    
Looking over my notes, I see it was the day after these three events that Bonaparte gave his brother-in-law, Prince Borghese, the Governorship-General of the departments beyond the Alps that he had just established; and he made him the eighth Grand Dignitary of the Empire. General Menou, whom I hadn't seen since Egypt, was forced by this appointment to leave Turin, where he had always stayed. Bonaparte, not wanting him to come to Paris, sent Menou to lead the Junta of Tuscany, which he soon afterwards turned into another General-Governorship, assigning it to his sister Elisa.






 —[Prince Camille Philippe Louis Borghese (1755-1832), an Italian,
   had married, 6th November 1808, Pauline Bonaparte, the sister of
   Napoleon, and the widow of General Leclerc. He had been made Prince
   and Duke of Guastalla when that duchy was given to his wife, 30th
   Marsh 1806. He separated from his wife after a few years. Indeed
   Pauline was impossible as a wife if half of the stories about her
   are true. It was she who, finding that a lady was surprised at her
   having sat naked while a statue of her was being modelled for
   Canova, believed she had satisfactorily explained matters by saying,
   "but there was a fire in the room."]— 
 —[Prince Camille Philippe Louis Borghese (1755-1832), an Italian, married Pauline Bonaparte, the sister of Napoleon and widow of General Leclerc, on November 6, 1808. He was made Prince and Duke of Guastalla when that duchy was given to his wife on March 30, 1806. They separated after a few years. In fact, Pauline was quite difficult to live with as a wife if half of the stories about her are true. She once explained away the shock of a lady who was surprised that she had posed nude for a statue being modeled by Canova, saying, "but there was a fire in the room."]—







      My correspondence relative to what passed in the south of France and of
      Europe presented to me, if I may so express myself, merely an anecdotal
      interest. Not so the news which came from the north. At Hamburg I was like
      the sentinel of an advanced post, always on the alert. I frequently
      informed the Government of what would take place before the event actually
      happened. I was one of the first to hear of the plans of Russia relative
      to Sweden. The courier whom I sent to Paris arrived there at the very
      moment when Russia made the declaration of war. About the end of February
      the Russian troops entered Swedish Finland, and occupied also the capital
      of that province, which had at all times been coveted by the Russian
      Government. It has been said that at the interview at Erfurt Bonaparte
      consented to the usurpation of that province by Alexander in return for
      the complaisance of the latter in acknowledging Joseph as King of Spain
      and the Indies.
    
My correspondence about what happened in the south of France and Europe was, if I can put it this way, only of anecdotal interest to me. The news from the north was different. In Hamburg, I felt like a lookout at a forward post, always on guard. I often informed the Government about events before they actually occurred. I was among the first to learn of Russia's plans regarding Sweden. The courier I sent to Paris arrived there just as Russia declared war. By the end of February, Russian troops had entered Swedish Finland and also occupied the capital of that province, which had always been desired by the Russian Government. It’s been said that during the meeting in Erfurt, Bonaparte agreed to Alexander's takeover of that province in exchange for Alexander's support in recognizing Joseph as King of Spain and the Indies.







      The removal of Joseph from the throne of Naples to the throne of Madrid
      belongs, indeed, to that period respecting which I am now throwing
      together a few recollections. Murat had succeeded Joseph at Naples, and
      this accession of the brother-in-law of Napoleon to one of the thrones of
      the House of Bourbon gave Bonaparte another junior in the college of
      kings, of which he would have infallibly become the senior if he had gone
      on as he began.
    
The transfer of Joseph from the throne of Naples to the throne of Madrid is part of the time I'm currently recalling. Murat took over from Joseph in Naples, and this position given to Napoleon's brother-in-law in one of the Bourbon thrones added another young king to Bonaparte’s group, of which he would undoubtedly have become the leader if he had continued as he started.







      I will relate a little circumstance which now occurs to me respecting the
      kings manufactured by Napoleon. I recollect that during the King of
      Etruria's stay in Paris—the First Consul went with that Prince to
      the Comedie Francaise, where Voltaire's 'OEdipus' was performed. This
      piece, I may observe, Bonaparte liked better than anything Voltaire ever
      wrote. I was in the theatre, but not in the First Consul's box, and I
      observed, as all present must have done, the eagerness with which the
      audience applied to Napoleon and the King of Etruria the line in which
      Philoctetes says—
    
I want to share a little story that comes to mind about the kings made by Napoleon. I remember that when the King of Etruria was in Paris, the First Consul took him to the Comédie-Française to see Voltaire's 'Oedipus.' I should note that Bonaparte preferred this play over anything else Voltaire wrote. I was at the theater, but not in the First Consul's box, and I noticed, as everyone else did, how eagerly the audience directed the line where Philoctetes says—






     "J'ai fait des souverains et n'ai pas voulu l'etre."

   ["I have made sovereigns, but have not wished to be one myself."]

"I have made rulers, but I haven't wanted to be one myself."







      The application was so marked that it could not fail to become the subject
      of conversation between the First Consul and me. "You remarked it,
      Bourrienne?" . . . "Yes, General." . . "The fools! . . . They shall see!
      They shall see!" We did indeed see. Not content with making kings,
      Bonaparte, when his brow was encircled by a double crown, after creating
      princes at length realised the object he had long contemplated, namely, to
      found a new nobility endowed with hereditary rights. It was at the
      commencement of March 1808 that he accomplished this project; and I saw in
      the 'Moniteur' a long list of princes, dukes, counts, barons, and knights
      of the Empire; there were wanting only viscounts and marquises.
    
The application was so obvious that it became a topic of conversation between the First Consul and me. "Did you notice it, Bourrienne?"... "Yes, General."..."The fools!... They will see! They will see!" And indeed we did see. Not satisfied with making kings, Bonaparte, when he wore a double crown, finally achieved what he had been planning for a long time: to establish a new nobility with hereditary rights. It was at the beginning of March 1808 that he realized this plan; and I saw in the 'Moniteur' a long list of princes, dukes, counts, barons, and knights of the Empire; the only titles missing were viscounts and marquises.







      At the same time that Bonaparte was founding a new nobility he determined
      to raise up the old edifice of the university, but on a new foundation.
      The education of youth had always been one of his ruling ideas, and I had
      an opportunity of observing how he was changed by the exercise of
      sovereign power when I received at Hamburg the statutes of the new elder
      daughter of the Emperor of the French, and compared them with the ideas
      which Bonaparte, when General and First Consul, had often expressed to me
      respecting the education which ought to be given youth. Though the sworn
      enemy of everything like liberty, Bonaparte had at first conceived a vast
      system of education, comprising above all the study of history, and those
      positive sciences, such as geology and astronomy, which give the utmost
      degree of development to the human mind. The Sovereign, however, shrunk
      from the first ideas of the man of genius, and his university, confided to
      the elegant suppleness of M. de Fontaines, was merely a school capable of
      producing educated subjects but not enlightened men.
    
At the same time that Bonaparte was creating a new nobility, he decided to rebuild the university, but on a new foundation. Educating young people had always been one of his main ideas, and I had the chance to see how he changed after gaining sovereign power when I received the statutes for the new elder daughter of the Emperor of the French in Hamburg and compared them with the ideas Bonaparte had often shared with me about youth education when he was General and First Consul. Although he was a sworn enemy of anything resembling liberty, Bonaparte initially envisioned an extensive education system, focusing primarily on studying history and the positive sciences, like geology and astronomy, which greatly develop the human mind. However, the Sovereign backed away from the initial ideas of the genius, and his university, under the graceful management of M. de Fontaines, ended up being just a school that could produce educated citizens but not enlightened individuals.







      Before taking complete possession of Rome, and making it the second city
      of the Empire, the vaunted moderation of Bonaparte was confined to
      dismembering from it the legations of Ancona, Urbino, Macerata, and
      Camerino, which were divided into three departments; and added to the
      Kingdom of Italy. The patience of the Holy See could no longer hold out
      against this act of violence, and Cardinal Caprara, who had remained in
      Paris since the coronation, at last left that capital. Shortly afterwards
      the Grand Duchies of Parma and Piacenza were united to the French Empire,
      and annexed to the government of the departments beyond the Alps. These
      transactions were coincident with the events in Spain and Bayonne before
      mentioned.
    
Before fully taking over Rome and establishing it as the second city of the Empire, Bonaparte’s supposed moderation only extended to tearing away the legations of Ancona, Urbino, Macerata, and Camerino, which were split into three departments and added to the Kingdom of Italy. The patience of the Holy See could no longer withstand this act of aggression, and Cardinal Caprara, who had stayed in Paris since the coronation, finally left the city. Soon after, the Grand Duchies of Parma and Piacenza were merged into the French Empire and incorporated into the administration of the departments beyond the Alps. These events coincided with the happenings in Spain and Bayonne mentioned earlier.







      After the snare laid at Bayonne the Emperor entered Paris on the 14th of
      August, the eve of his birthday. Scarcely had he arrived in the capital
      when he experienced fresh anxiety in consequence of the conduct of Russia,
      which, as I have stated, had declared open war with Sweden, and did not
      conceal the intention of seizing Finland. But Bonaparte, desirous of
      actively carrying on the war in Spain, felt the necessity of removing his
      troops from Prussia to the Pyrenees. He then hastened the interview at
      Erfurt, where the two Emperors of France and Russia had agreed to meet. He
      hoped that this interview would insure the tranquillity of the Continent,
      while he should complete the subjection of Spain to the sceptre of Joseph.
      That Prince had been proclaimed on the 8th of June; and on the 21st of the
      same month he made his entry into Madrid, but having received, ten days
      after, information of the disaster at Baylen, he was obliged to leave the
      Spanish capital.
    
After the trap set at Bayonne, the Emperor entered Paris on August 14th, the night before his birthday. He had barely arrived in the capital when he faced new concerns due to Russia, which, as I mentioned, had declared open war against Sweden and was openly planning to take Finland. However, Bonaparte, eager to keep the war going in Spain, knew he needed to move his troops from Prussia to the Pyrenees. He then expedited the meeting at Erfurt, where the two Emperors of France and Russia had agreed to gather. He hoped this meeting would ensure peace on the Continent while he worked to bring Spain fully under Joseph's rule. That Prince had been proclaimed on June 8th, and on June 21st, he entered Madrid, but just ten days later, after hearing about the disaster at Baylen, he had to leave the Spanish capital.






 —[The important battle of Daylen, where the French, under General
   Dupont, were beaten by the Spaniards, was fought on the 19th of July
   1808.]— 
—[The significant battle of Daylen, where the French, led by General Dupont, were defeated by the Spaniards, took place on July 19, 1808.]—







      Bonaparte's wishes must at this time have been limited to the tranquillity
      of the Continent, for the struggle between him and England was more
      desperate than ever. England had just sent troops to Portugal under the
      command of Sir Arthur Wellesley. There was no longer any hope of a
      reconciliation with Great Britain: The interview at Erfurt having been
      determined on, the Emperor, who had returned from Bayonne to Paris, again
      left the capital about the end of September, and arrived at Metz without
      stopping, except for the purpose of reviewing the regiments which were
      echeloned on his route, and which were on their march from the Grand Army
      to Spain.
    
Bonaparte’s hopes at this time were focused on maintaining peace in Europe, as his conflict with England had become more intense than ever. England had just deployed troops to Portugal, led by Sir Arthur Wellesley. The prospect of reconciling with Great Britain was no longer feasible. After the meeting in Erfurt was planned, the Emperor returned from Bayonne to Paris but then left the capital again around the end of September, arriving in Metz without any stops, except to review the regiments lined up along his route that were on their way from the Grand Army to Spain.







      I had heard some time previously of the interview which was about to take
      place, and which was so memorable in the life of Napoleon. It excited so
      much interest in Germany that the roads were covered with the equipages of
      the Princes who were going to Erfurt to witness the meeting. The French
      Emperor arrived there before Alexander, and went forward three leagues to
      meet him. Napoleon was on horseback, Alexander in a carriage. They
      embraced, it is said, in a manner expressive of the most cordial
      friendship. This interview was witnessed by most of the sovereign Princes
      of Germany. However, neither the King of Prussia nor the Emperor of
      Austria was present. The latter sovereign sent a letter to Napoleon, of
      which I obtained a copy. It was as follows:
    
I had heard earlier about the meeting that was set to happen, which turned out to be a significant event in Napoleon's life. It generated so much excitement in Germany that the roads were filled with carriages from the Princes heading to Erfurt to see the gathering. The French Emperor arrived before Alexander and traveled three leagues to greet him. Napoleon was on horseback, while Alexander rode in a carriage. They embraced in a way that showed deep friendship. Most of the sovereign Princes of Germany were there to witness this meeting. However, neither the King of Prussia nor the Emperor of Austria attended. The latter sent a letter to Napoleon, a copy of which I obtained. It read as follows:






   SIRE, MY BROTHER,—My Ambassador in Paris informs me that your
   Majesty is about to proceed to Erfurt to meet the Emperor Alexander.
   I eagerly seize the opportunity of your approach to my frontier to
   renew those testimonials of friendship and esteem which I have
   pledged to you; and I send my Lieutenant-General, Baron Vincent, to
   convey to you the assurance of my unalterable sentiments. If the
   false accounts that have been circulated respecting the internal
   institutions which I have established in my monarchy should for a
   moment have excited your Majesty's doubts as to my intentions, I
   fatter myself that the explanations given on that subject by Count
   Metternich to your Minister will have entirely removed them. Baron
   Vincent is enabled to confirm to your Majesty all that has been said
   by Count Metternich on the subject, and to add any further
   explanations, you may wish for. I beg that your Majesty will grant
   him the same gracious reception he experienced at Paris and at
   Warsaw. The renewed marks of favour you may bestow on him will be
   an unequivocal pledge of the reciprocity of your sentiments, and
   will seal that confidence which will render our satisfaction mutual.

   Deign to accept the assurance of the unalterable affection and
   respect with which I am, Sire, my Brother, Your imperial and royal
   Majesty's faithful brother and friend,
                       (Signed) FRANCIS.
   PRESBURG, 8th September 1808.

   SIRE, MY BROTHER,—My Ambassador in Paris informs me that your
   Majesty is about to travel to Erfurt to meet Emperor Alexander.
   I eagerly take this opportunity of your approach to my border to
   renew the expressions of friendship and respect that I have promised you; and I’m sending my Lieutenant-General, Baron Vincent, to convey my unwavering feelings. If the misleading reports about the internal systems I’ve established in my kingdom have, for even a moment, caused any doubts for your Majesty regarding my intentions, I trust that the clarifications provided by Count Metternich to your Minister will have fully addressed them. Baron Vincent can confirm everything Count Metternich has said on this matter and provide any additional explanations you might need. I kindly ask your Majesty to extend the same warm welcome to him that he received in Paris and Warsaw. The renewed kindness you show him will clearly signal the mutuality of our feelings and will solidify the trust that will make our satisfaction shared.

   Please accept the assurance of my constant affection and respect with which I am, Sire, my Brother, Your imperial and royal Majesty's loyal brother and friend,
                       (Signed) FRANCIS.
   PRESBURG, 8th September 1808.







      This letter appears to be a model of ambiguity, by which it is impossible
      Napoleon could have been imposed upon. However, as yet he had no suspicion
      of the hostility of Austria, which speedily became manifest; his grand
      object then was the Spanish business, and, as I have before observed, one
      of the secrets of Napoleon's genius was, that he did not apply himself to
      more than one thing at a time.
    
This letter seems to be a perfect example of ambiguity, making it impossible for Napoleon to be misled. However, he still had no idea about Austria's hostility, which quickly became clear; his main focus at that time was the situation in Spain, and as I’ve mentioned before, one of the secrets of Napoleon's brilliance was that he didn’t try to tackle more than one thing at a time.







      At Erfurt Bonaparte attained the principal object he had promised himself
      by the meeting. Alexander recognized Joseph in his new character of King
      of Spain and the Indies. It has been said that as the price of this
      recognition Napoleon consented that Alexander should have Swedish Finland;
      but for the truth of this I cannot vouch. However, I remember that when,
      after the interview at Erfurt, Alexander had given-orders to his
      ambassador to Charles IV. to continue his functions under King Joseph, the
      Swedish charge d'affaires at Hamburg told me that confidential letters
      received by him from Erfurt led him to fear that the Emperor Alexander had
      communicated to Napoleon his designs on Finland, and that Napoleon had
      given his consent to the occupation. Be this as it may, as soon as the
      interview was over Napoleon returned to Paris, where he presided with much
      splendour at the opening of the Legislative Body, and set out in the month
      of November for Spain.
    
At Erfurt, Bonaparte achieved the main goal he had set for the meeting. Alexander recognized Joseph in his new role as King of Spain and the Indies. It’s been said that to gain this recognition, Napoleon agreed to let Alexander have Swedish Finland, but I can't confirm if that's true. However, I recall that after the meeting in Erfurt, Alexander instructed his ambassador to Charles IV. to continue his duties under King Joseph. The Swedish chargé d'affaires in Hamburg told me that confidential letters he received from Erfurt made him worry that Emperor Alexander had shared his plans for Finland with Napoleon, and that Napoleon had agreed to the occupation. Regardless of the truth, as soon as the meeting concluded, Napoleon returned to Paris, where he presided magnificently over the opening of the Legislative Body and then left for Spain in November.








 


 




















      CHAPTER XVI.
    



      1808.
    
1808.


   The Spanish troops in Hamburg—Romana's siesta—His departure for
   Funen—Celebration of Napoleon's birthday—Romana's defection—
   English agents and the Dutch troops—Facility of communication
   between England and the Continent—Delay of couriers from Russia—
   Alarm and complaints—The people of Hamburg—Montesquieu and the
   Minister of the Grand Duke of Tuscany—Invitations at six months—
   Napoleon's journey to Italy—Adoption of Eugène—Lucien's daughter
   and the Prince of the Asturias—M. Auguste de Stael's interview with
   Napoleon.

The Spanish troops in Hamburg—Romana's nap—His departure for Funen—Celebration of Napoleon's birthday—Romana's defection—British agents and the Dutch troops—Ease of communication between England and the Continent—Delay of couriers from Russia—Panic and complaints—The people of Hamburg—Montesquieu and the Minister of the Grand Duke of Tuscany—Invitations six months in advance—Napoleon's trip to Italy—Adoption of Eugène—Lucien's daughter and the Prince of Asturias—M. Auguste de Stael's meeting with Napoleon.







      Previous to the interview at Erfurt an event took place which created a
      strong interest in Hamburg and throughout Europe, an event which was
      planned and executed with inconceivable secrecy. I allude to the defection
      of the Marquis de la Romans, which I have not hitherto noticed, in order
      that I might not separate the different facts which came to my knowledge
      respecting that defection and the circumstances which accompanied it.
    
Before the interview in Erfurt, something happened that sparked a lot of interest in Hamburg and across Europe—an event that was organized and carried out with unbelievable secrecy. I'm talking about the defection of the Marquis de la Romans, which I haven't mentioned before so that I wouldn't separate the various details I learned about that defection and the circumstances surrounding it.







      The Marquis de la Romans had come to the Hanse Towns at the head of an
      army corps of 18,000 men, which the Emperor in the preceding campaign
      claimed in virtue of treaties previously concluded with the Spanish
      Government. The Spanish troops at first met with a good reception in the
      Hanse Towns. The difference of language, indeed, occasionally caused
      discord, but when better acquainted the inhabitants and their visitors
      became good friends. The Marquis de la Romans was a little swarthy man, of
      unprepossessing and rather common appearance; but he had a considerable
      share of talent and information. He had travelled in almost every part of
      Europe, and as he had been a close observer of all he saw his conversation
      was exceedingly agreeable and instructive.
    
The Marquis de la Romans arrived in the Hanse Towns leading an army of 18,000 men, which the Emperor had claimed in the previous campaign based on treaties previously made with the Spanish Government. The Spanish troops were initially welcomed in the Hanse Towns. Language differences sometimes led to misunderstandings, but as they got to know each other better, the locals and soldiers became good friends. The Marquis de la Romans was a somewhat dark-skinned man with an ordinary and rather unremarkable appearance; however, he was quite talented and knowledgeable. He had traveled extensively across Europe, and since he was a keen observer of his surroundings, his conversations were very enjoyable and informative.







      During his stay at Hamburg General Romans spent almost every evening at my
      house, and invariably fell asleep over a game at whist. Madame de
      Bourrienne was usually his partner, and I recollect he perpetually offered
      apologies for his involuntary breach of good manners. This, however, did
      not hinder him from being guilty of the same offence the next evening. I
      will presently explain the cause of this regular siesta.
    
During his time in Hamburg, General Romans spent almost every evening at my place and often fell asleep during a game of whist. Madame de Bourrienne was usually his partner, and I remember he always apologized for his unintentional breach of etiquette. However, this didn’t stop him from committing the same faux pas the following evening. I'll explain the reason for this routine nap shortly.







      On the King of Spain's birthday the Marquis de la Romans gave a
      magnificent entertainment. The decorations of the ballroom consisted of
      military emblems. The Marquis did the honours with infinite grace, and
      paid particular attention to the French generals. He always spoke of the
      Emperor in very respectful terms, without any appearance of affectation,
      so that it was impossible to suspect him of harbouring disaffection. He
      played his part to the last with the utmost address. At Hamburg we had
      already received intelligence of the fatal result of the battle of the
      Sierra Morena, and of the capitulation of Dupont, which disgraced him at
      the very moment when the whole army marked him out as the man most likely
      next to receive the baton of Marshal of France.
    
On the King of Spain's birthday, the Marquis de la Romans hosted a stunning celebration. The ballroom was decorated with military symbols. The Marquis welcomed everyone with incredible grace and paid special attention to the French generals. He always spoke of the Emperor with great respect, showing no signs of insincerity, making it impossible to suspect him of any disloyalty. He played his role with the utmost skill until the very end. In Hamburg, we had already received news of the disastrous outcome of the battle of the Sierra Morena and the surrender of Dupont, which brought him shame at the very moment when the entire army considered him the most likely candidate to be the next Marshal of France.







      Meanwhile the Marquis de la Romans departed for the Danish island of
      Funen, in compliance with the order which Marshal Bernadotte had
      transmitted to him. There, as at Hamburg, the Spaniards were well liked,
      for their general obliged them to observe the strictest discipline. Great
      preparations were made in Hamburg on the approach of Saint Napoleon's day,
      which was then celebrated with much solemnity in every town in which
      France had representatives. The Prince de Ponte-Corvo was at Travemunde, a
      small seaport near Lübeck, but that did not prevent him from giving
      directions for the festival of the 15th of August. The Marquis de la
      Romana, the better to deceive the Marshal, despatched a courier,
      requesting permission to visit Hamburg on the day of the fete in order to
      join his prayers to those of the French, and to receive, on the day of the
      fete, from the hands of the Prince, the grand order of the Legion of
      Honour, which he had solicited, and which Napoleon had granted him. Three
      days after Bernadotte received intelligence of the defection of de la
      Romana. The Marquis had contrived to assemble a great number of English
      vessels on the coast, and to escape with all his troops except a depot of
      600 men left at Altona. We afterwards heard that he experienced no
      interruption on his passage, and that he landed with his troops at
      Corunna. I now knew to what to attribute the drowsiness which always
      overcame the Marquis de la Romana when he sat down to take a hand at
      whist. The fact was, he sat up all night making preparations for the
      escape which he had long meditated, while to lull suspicion he showed
      himself everywhere during the day, as usual.
    
Meanwhile, the Marquis de la Romana left for the Danish island of Funen, following the order from Marshal Bernadotte. Just like in Hamburg, the Spaniards were well-liked there, as their general enforced strict discipline. Major preparations took place in Hamburg for Saint Napoleon's Day, which was celebrated with great solemnity in every town where France had representatives. The Prince de Ponte-Corvo was in Travemunde, a small port near Lübeck, but that didn’t stop him from organizing the festival on August 15th. To deceive the Marshal, the Marquis de la Romana sent a courier requesting permission to visit Hamburg on the day of the celebration to join his prayers with those of the French and to receive the grand order of the Legion of Honour from the Prince, which he had asked for and which Napoleon had granted him. Three days later, Bernadotte learned about de la Romana's defection. The Marquis had managed to gather a large number of English ships on the coast and escape with all his troops except a detachment of 600 men left in Altona. Later, we found out that he faced no interruptions during his passage and landed with his troops in Corunna. I finally understood why the Marquis de la Romana often seemed drowsy when he sat down to play whist: he had stayed up all night planning his long-contemplated escape while maintaining his usual presence throughout the day to avoid suspicion.







      On the defection of the Spanish troops I received letters from Government
      requiring me to augment my vigilance, and to seek out those persons who
      might be supposed to have been in the confidence of the Marquis de la
      Romans. I was informed that English agents, dispersed through the Hanse
      Towns, were endeavouring to foment discord and dissatisfaction among the
      King of Holland's troops. These manoeuvres were connected with the treason
      of the Spaniards and the arrival of Danican in Denmark. Insubordination
      had already broken out, but it was promptly repressed. Two Dutch soldiers
      were shot for striking their officers, but notwithstanding this severity
      desertion among the troops increased to an alarming degree. Indefatigable
      agents in the pay of the English Government laboured incessantly to seduce
      the soldiers of King Louis (of Holland) from their duty. Some of these
      agents being denounced to me were taken almost in the act, and positive
      proof being adduced of their guilt they were condemned to death.
    
After the Spanish troops defected, I received letters from the Government urging me to be more vigilant and to identify anyone who might have been close to the Marquis de la Romans. I learned that English agents, spread out across the Hanse Towns, were trying to create discord and dissatisfaction among the King of Holland's troops. These actions were linked to the betrayal of the Spaniards and the arrival of Danican in Denmark. Insubordination had already surfaced, but it was quickly suppressed. Two Dutch soldiers were executed for striking their officers, but despite this harshness, desertion within the ranks increased to a concerning level. Tireless agents funded by the English Government worked relentlessly to persuade King Louis's (of Holland) soldiers to abandon their duty. Some of these agents, who were reported to me, were caught almost red-handed, and with solid evidence of their guilt, they were sentenced to death.







      These indispensable examples of severity did not check the manoeuvres of
      England, though they served to cool the zeal of her agents. I used every
      endeavour to second the Prince of Ponte-Corvo in tracing out the persons
      employed by England. It was chiefly from the small island of Heligoland
      that they found their way to the Continent. This communication was
      facilitated by the numerous vessels scattered about the small islands
      which lie along that coast. Five or six pieces of gold defrayed the
      expense of the passage to or from Heligoland. Thus the Spanish news, which
      was printed and often fabricated at London, was profusely circulated in
      the north of Germany. Packets of papers addressed to merchants and
      well-known persons in the German towns were put into the post-offices of
      Embden, Kuipphausen, Varel, Oldenburg, Delmenhorst, and Bremen. Generally
      speaking, this part of the coast was not sufficiently well watched to
      prevent espionage and smuggling; with regard to smuggling, indeed, no
      power could have entirely prevented it. The Continental system had made it
      a necessity, so that a great part of the population depended on it for
      subsistence.
    
These crucial examples of severity didn't stop England's actions, although they did manage to dampen the enthusiasm of her agents. I did everything I could to help the Prince of Ponte-Corvo identify the people working for England. They mainly traveled from the small island of Heligoland to the mainland. This connection was made easier by the many ships scattered around the small islands along that coast. A few pieces of gold covered the cost of traveling to or from Heligoland. As a result, the Spanish news, which was often printed and sometimes invented in London, was widely spread in northern Germany. Packs of documents addressed to merchants and prominent individuals in German towns were dropped off at the post offices in Embden, Kuipphausen, Varel, Oldenburg, Delmenhorst, and Bremen. Generally, this part of the coast wasn't monitored closely enough to stop espionage and smuggling; in fact, no power could completely eliminate smuggling. The Continental system had made it essential, so a significant portion of the population relied on it for their livelihood.







      In the beginning of December 1808 we remarked that the Russian courier who
      passed through Konigsberg and Berlin, was regularly detained four, five,
      and even six hours on his way to Hamburg. The trading portion of the
      population, always suspicious, became alarmed at this chance in the
      courier's hours, into which they inquired and soon discovered the cause.
      It was ascertained that two agents had been stationed by the postmaster of
      the Grand Duchy of Berg at Hamburg, in a village called Eschburg belonging
      to the province of Lauenburg. There the courier from Berlin was stopped,
      and his packets and letters opened. As soon as these facts were known in
      Hamburg there was a general consternation among the trading class-that is
      to say, the influential population of the city. Important and
      well-grounded complaints were made. Some letters had been suppressed,
      enclosures had been taken from one letter and put into another, and
      several bills of exchange had gone astray. The intelligence soon reached
      the ears of the Prince of Ponte-Corvo, and was confirmed by the official
      report of the commissioner for the Imperial and Royal Post-office, who
      complained of the delay of the courier, of the confusion of the packets,
      and of want of confidence in the Imperial Post-office. It was impolitic to
      place such agents in a village where there was not even a post-office, and
      where the letters were opened in an inn without any supervision. This
      examination of the letters, sometimes, perhaps, necessary, but often
      dangerous, and always extremely delicate, created additional alarm, on
      account of the persons to whom the business was entrusted. If the Emperor
      wished to be made acquainted with the correspondence of certain persons in
      the north it would have been natural to entrust the business to his agents
      and his commissioner at Hamburg, and not to two unknown individuals—another
      inconvenience attending black cabinets. At my suggestion the Prince of
      Ponte-Corvo gave orders for putting a stop to the clandestine business at
      Eschburg. The two agents were taken to Hamburg and their conduct inquired
      into. They were severely punished. They deserved this, however, less than
      those who had entrusted them with such an honourable mission; but leaders
      never make much scruple about abandoning their accomplices in the lower
      ranks.
    
At the start of December 1808, we noticed that the Russian courier traveling through Konigsberg and Berlin was regularly delayed by four, five, or even six hours on his journey to Hamburg. The business community, always wary, grew concerned about this change in the courier's schedule. They started asking questions and quickly found out the reason. It turned out that two agents had been stationed by the postmaster of the Grand Duchy of Berg in Hamburg, in a village called Eschburg, which is part of the province of Lauenburg. There, the courier from Berlin was halted, and his packages and letters were opened. Once this information became public in Hamburg, it caused widespread panic among the merchants—in other words, the influential people in the city. Serious and valid complaints were raised. Some letters had been held back, contents from one letter had been moved to another, and several bills of exchange had gone missing. The news quickly reached the Prince of Ponte-Corvo and was confirmed by an official report from the commissioner of the Imperial and Royal Post Office, who complained about the courier delays, the mix-up of packages, and the loss of trust in the Imperial Post Office. It was unwise to place such agents in a village that didn’t even have a post office, where the letters were opened at an inn without any oversight. This examination of the letters, while sometimes necessary, was often risky and always highly sensitive, which heightened concerns about who was in charge of it. If the Emperor wanted to monitor the correspondence of certain individuals in the north, it would have made sense to assign the task to his agents and commissioner in Hamburg, rather than to two unfamiliar people—another drawback of secretive practices. At my suggestion, the Prince of Ponte-Corvo ordered an end to the covert operations in Eschburg. The two agents were taken to Hamburg for questioning about their actions. They were punished severely. However, they deserved this less than those who had given them such a dishonorable task; but leaders rarely hesitate to abandon their accomplices in the lower ranks.







      But for the pain of witnessing vexations of this sort, which I had not
      always power to prevent, especially after Bernadotte's removal, my
      residence at Hamburg would have been delightful. Those who have visited
      that town know the advantages it possesses from its charming situation on
      the Elbe, and above all, the delightful country which surrounds it like a
      garden, and extends to the distance of more than a league along the banks
      of the Eyder. The manners and customs of the inhabitants bear the stamp of
      peculiarity; they are fond of pursuing their occupations in the open air.
      The old men are often seen sitting round tables placed before their doors
      sipping tea, while the children play before them, and the young people are
      at their work. These groups have a very picturesque effect, and convey a
      gratifying idea of the happiness of the people. On seeing the worthy
      citizens of Hamburg assembled round their doors I could not help thinking
      of a beautiful remark of Montesquieu. When he went to Florence with a
      letter of recommendation to the Prime Minister of the Grand Duke of
      Tuscany he found him sitting at the threshold of his door, inhaling the
      fresh air and conversing with some friends. "I see," said Montesquieu,
      "that I am arrived among a happy people, since their Prime Minister can
      enjoy his leisure moments thus."
    
But for the pain of seeing annoyances like this, which I didn’t always have the power to stop, especially after Bernadotte was removed, my time in Hamburg would have been wonderful. Those who have been to that city know the advantages it has due to its lovely location on the Elbe and, most importantly, the beautiful countryside that surrounds it like a garden, stretching more than a league along the banks of the Eyder. The customs and habits of the locals are quite unique; they enjoy doing their work outdoors. The elderly are often seen sitting around tables set up in front of their houses, sipping tea while the children play nearby and young people are busy with their tasks. These scenes are very picturesque and create a pleasant impression of the happiness of the people. Watching the good citizens of Hamburg gathered at their doors made me think of a lovely comment by Montesquieu. When he went to Florence with a letter of introduction to the Prime Minister of the Grand Duke of Tuscany, he found him sitting at his doorstep, enjoying the fresh air and chatting with some friends. "I see," Montesquieu remarked, "that I have arrived among a happy people, as their Prime Minister can enjoy his leisure like this."







      A sort of patriarchal simplicity characterises the manners of the
      inhabitants of Hamburg. They do not visit each other much, and only by
      invitation; but on such occasions they display great luxury beneath their
      simple exterior. They are methodical and punctual to an extraordinary
      degree. Of this I recollect a curious instance. I was very intimate with
      Baron Woght, a man of talent and information, and exceedingly amiable
      manners. One day he called to make us a farewell visit as he intended to
      set out on the following day for Paris. On Madame de Bourrienne expressing
      a hope that he would not protract his absence beyond six months, the
      period he had fixed upon, he replied, "Be assured, madame, nothing shall
      prevent me getting home on the day I have appointed, for I have invited a
      party of friends to dine with me on the day after my return." The Baron
      returned at the appointed time, and none of his guests required to be
      reminded of his invitation at six months' date.
    
The people of Hamburg have a kind of straightforward, traditional style. They don’t visit each other often and do so only when invited; however, when they do, they show a lot of luxury beneath their simple surface. They are remarkably organized and punctual. I remember a curious example of this. I was quite close with Baron Woght, a talented man with a lot of knowledge and very pleasant manners. One day, he stopped by to say goodbye since he was planning to leave for Paris the next day. When Madame de Bourrienne expressed hope that he wouldn’t be away longer than six months, which was the time he had planned, he replied, “Rest assured, madame, nothing will stop me from returning on the day I've set, because I’ve invited a group of friends to dinner with me the day after I get back.” The Baron returned exactly when he said he would, and none of his guests needed reminding of his invitation six months later.







      Napoleon so well knew the effect which his presence produced that after a
      conquest he loved to show himself to the people whose territories he added
      to the Empire. Duroc, who always accompanied him when he was not engaged
      on missions, gave me a curious account of Napoleon's journey in 1807 to
      Venice and the other Italian provinces, which, conformably with the treaty
      of Presburg, were annexed to the Kingdom of Italy.
    
Napoleon understood the impact his presence had so well that after a victory, he enjoyed presenting himself to the people in the territories he added to the Empire. Duroc, who always accompanied him when he wasn’t on missions, shared an interesting story about Napoleon's trip in 1807 to Venice and the other Italian provinces, which, according to the treaty of Presburg, were added to the Kingdom of Italy.







      In this journey to the Kingdom of Italy Napoleon had several important
      objects in view. He was planning great alliances; and he loaded Eugène
      with favours for the purpose of sounding him and preparing him for his
      mother's divorce. At the same time he intended to have an interview with
      his brother Lucien, because, wishing to dispose of the hand of his
      brother's daughter, he thought of making her marry the Prince of the
      Asturias (Ferdinand), who before the Spanish war, when the first
      dissensions between father and son had become manifest, had solicited an
      alliance with the Emperor in the hope of getting his support. This was
      shortly after the eldest son of Louis had died in Holland of croup. It has
      been wrongly believed that Napoleon had an affection for this child beyond
      that of an uncle for a nephew. I have already said the truth about this.
    
In this journey to the Kingdom of Italy, Napoleon had several key goals. He was planning significant alliances and showered Eugène with favors to gauge his feelings and prepare him for his mother's divorce. At the same time, he wanted to meet with his brother Lucien because, wanting to arrange a marriage for Lucien's daughter, he considered having her marry the Prince of the Asturias (Ferdinand). Before the Spanish war, when the first conflicts between father and son had become clear, Ferdinand had sought an alliance with the Emperor, hoping for his support. This was shortly after Louis' eldest son had died in Holland from croup. It has been mistakenly thought that Napoleon had a special affection for this child beyond what an uncle typically feels for a nephew. I have already clarified the truth about this.







      However this may be, it is certain that Napoleon now seriously
      contemplated a divorce from Josephine. If there had been no other proof of
      this I, who from long habit knew how to read Napoleon's thoughts by his
      acts, found a sufficient one in the decree issued at Milan by which
      Napoleon adopted Eugène as his son and successor to the crown of Italy, in
      default of male and legitimate children directly descended from him.
      Lucien went to Mantua on his brother's invitation, and this was the last
      interview they had before the Cent Jours. Lucien consented to give his
      daughter to the Prince of the Asturias, but this marriage did not take
      place. I learned from Duroc to what a height the enmity of Lucien towards
      the Beauharnais family, an enmity which I have often had occasion to speak
      of, had been renewed on this occasion. Lucien could not pardon Josephine
      for the rebuff of the counsels which he had given her, and which she had
      rejected with such proper indignation. Lucien had besides another special
      reason for giving his daughter to the Prince of the Asturias. He
      particularly wished to prevent that Prince marrying Mademoiselle de
      Tascher, the niece of Josephine, a marriage for which M. de Beauharnais,
      then Ambassador of France at Madrid, was working with all his might.
      Lucien also, with his Republican stolidity, submitted without too much
      scruple to the idea of having a Bourbon King as son-in-law. It was also
      during this journey of Napoleon that he annexed Tuscany to the Empire.
    
However this may be, it's clear that Napoleon was seriously considering a divorce from Josephine. If there had been no other evidence of this, I, who had long learned to read Napoleon's thoughts through his actions, found enough proof in the decree issued in Milan, where Napoleon adopted Eugène as his son and successor to the crown of Italy, in the absence of male and legitimate children directly descended from him. Lucien went to Mantua at his brother's invitation, and this was their last meeting before the Cent Jours. Lucien agreed to give his daughter to the Prince of the Asturias, but that marriage never happened. I learned from Duroc how intense Lucien's hostility towards the Beauharnais family had become during this time, an enmity I've often referred to. Lucien couldn't forgive Josephine for dismissing the advice he had given her, which she rejected with such rightful indignation. Lucien also had another specific reason for wanting his daughter to marry the Prince of the Asturias. He particularly wanted to prevent that Prince from marrying Mademoiselle de Tascher, Josephine's niece, a marriage that M. de Beauharnais, then France's Ambassador in Madrid, was vigorously promoting. Lucien, with his Republican mindset, also seemed to accept, without too much hesitation, the idea of having a Bourbon King as his son-in-law. It was also during this trip that Napoleon annexed Tuscany to the Empire.







      Bonaparte returned to Paris on the 1st of January 1808. On his way he
      stopped for a short time at Chambery, where a young man had been waiting
      for him several days. This was Madame de Stael's son, who was then not
      more than seventeen years of age. M. Auguste de Stael lodged at the house
      of the postmaster of Chambery, and as the Emperor was expected in the
      course of the night, he gave orders that he should be called up on the
      arrival of the first courier. The couriers, who had been delayed on the
      road, did not arrive until six in the morning, and were almost immediately
      followed by the Emperor himself, so that M, de Stael was awakened by the
      cries of Vive l'Empereur! He had just time to dress himself hastily, and
      fly to meet Napoleon, to whom he delivered a letter, which he had prepared
      beforehand for the purpose of soliciting an audience. Lauriston, the aide
      de camp on duty, took the letter, it being his business to receive all the
      letters and petitions which were presented to Napoleon on his way. Before
      breakfast the Emperor opened the letters which Lauriston had laid on the
      table; he merely looked at the signatures, and then laid them aside. On
      opening M. de Stael's letter he said, "Ah! ah! what have we here? a letter
      from M. de Stael! . . . He wishes to see me: . . . What can he want? . . .
      Can there be anything in common between me and the refugees of Geneva?"—
      "Sire," observed Lauriston, "he is a very young man; and, as well as I
      could judge from the little I saw of him, there is something very
      prepossessing in his appearance."—"A very young man, say you? . . .
      Oh, then I will see him. . . . Rustan, tell him to come in." M. de Stael
      presented himself to Napoleon with modesty, but without any unbecoming
      timidity. When he had respectfully saluted the Emperor a conversation
      ensued between them, which Duroc described to me in nearly the following
      manner.
    
Bonaparte returned to Paris on January 1, 1808. On his way, he stopped briefly in Chambery, where a young man had been waiting for him for several days. This was Madame de Stael's son, who was only seventeen at the time. M. Auguste de Stael was staying at the postmaster’s house in Chambery, and since the Emperor was expected that night, he instructed that he be notified as soon as the first courier arrived. The couriers, delayed on the road, didn’t arrive until six in the morning, shortly followed by the Emperor himself, so M. de Stael was awakened by shouts of Vive l'Empereur! He quickly got dressed and rushed to meet Napoleon, handing him a letter he had prepared earlier to request an audience. Lauriston, the aide-de-camp on duty, took the letter, as it was his job to receive all letters and petitions presented to Napoleon during his travels. Before breakfast, the Emperor opened the letters that Lauriston had placed on the table; he just glanced at the signatures and set them aside. When he opened M. de Stael's letter, he remarked, "Ah! ah! What do we have here? A letter from M. de Stael! ... He wants to see me: ... What could he want? ... Is there anything in common between me and the refugees from Geneva?"—"Sire," Lauriston noted, "he's a very young man; and from what little I saw of him, there’s something quite appealing about him."—"A very young man, you say? ... Well then, I'll see him. ... Rustan, tell him to come in." M. de Stael approached Napoleon with modesty, but without inappropriate timidity. After respectfully greeting the Emperor, a conversation followed between them, which Duroc described to me nearly as follows.







      As M. de Stael advanced towards the Emperor the latter said, "Whence do
      you come?"—"From Geneva, Sire."—"Where is your mother?"—"She
      is either in Vienna or will soon be there."—"At Vienna! . . . Well,
      that is where she ought to be; and I suppose she is happy. . . . She will
      now have a good opportunity of learning German."—"Sire, how can you
      imagine my mother is happy when she is absent from her country and her
      friends? If I were permitted to lay before your Majesty my mother's
      confidential letter you would see how unhappy she is in her exile."—
      "Ah, bah! your mother unhappy, indeed! . . . However, I do not mean to say
      she is altogether a bad woman. . . . She has talent—perhaps too
      much; and hers is an unbridled talent. She was educated amidst the chaos
      of the subverted monarchy and the Revolution; and out of these events she
      makes an amalgamation of her own! All this might become very dangerous.
      Her enthusiasm is likely to make proselytes. I must keep watch upon her.
      She does not like me; and for the interests of those whom she would
      endanger I must prohibit her coming to Paris."
    
As M. de Stael approached the Emperor, he said, "Where are you coming from?"—"From Geneva, Sir."—"Where is your mother?"—"She is either in Vienna or will be there soon."—"In Vienna! . . . Well, that's where she should be; and I assume she is happy. . . . She'll have a good chance to learn German now."—"Sir, how can you think my mother is happy when she is away from her country and her friends? If I could show your Majesty my mother's private letter, you would see how unhappy she is in her exile."—"Oh, come on! Your mother is unhappy, really! . . . Still, I won't say she's a completely bad person. . . . She has talent—maybe too much; and her talent is untamed. She was educated amidst the chaos of the fallen monarchy and the Revolution, and from those events, she creates her own blend! All of this could become very dangerous. Her enthusiasm is likely to convert others. I need to keep an eye on her. She doesn't like me; and for the sake of those she might endanger, I must stop her from coming to Paris."







      Young De Stael stated that his object in seeking the interview with the
      Emperor was to petition for his mother's return to Paris. Napoleon having
      listened without impatience to the reasons he urged in support of his
      request, said, "But supposing I were to permit your mother to return to
      Pairs, six months would not elapse before I should be obliged to send her
      to the Bicetre or to the Temple. This I should be sorry to do, because the
      affair would make a noise, and injure me in public opinion. Tell your
      mother that my determination is formed, that my decision is irrevocable.
      She shall never set foot in Paris as long as I live."— "Sire, I
      cannot believe that you would arbitrarily imprison my mother if she gave
      you no reason for such severity."—"She would give me a dozen! . . .
      I know her well."—"Sire, permit me to say that I am certain my
      mother would live in Paris in a way that would afford no ground of
      reproach; she would live retired, and would see only a very few friends.
      In spite of your Majesty's refusal I venture to entreat that you will give
      her a trial, were it only for six weeks or a month. Permit her, Sire, to
      pass that time in Paris, and I conjure you to come to no final decision
      beforehand."—"Do you think I am to be deceived by these fair
      promises? . . . I tell you it cannot be. She would serve as a rallying
      point for the Faubourg St. Germain. She see nobody, indeed! Could she make
      that sacrifice? She would visit and receive company. She would be guilty
      of a thousand follies. She would be saying things which she may consider
      as very good jokes, but which I should take seriously. My government is no
      joke: I wish this to be well known by everybody."— "Sire, will your
      Majesty permit me to repeat that my mother has no wish whatever to mingle
      in society? She would confine herself to the circle of a few friends, a
      list of whom she would give to your Majesty. You, Sire, who love France so
      well, may form some idea of the misery my mother suffers in her
      banishment. I conjure your Majesty to yield to my entreaties, and let us
      be included in the number of your faithful subjects."—"You!"—"Yes,
      Sire; or if your Majesty persist in your refusal, permit a son to inquire
      what can have raised your displeasure against his mother. Some say that it
      was my grandfather's last work; but I can assure your Majesty that my
      mother had nothing to do with that."— "Yes, certainly," added
      Napoleon, with more ill-humour than he had hitherto manifested. "Yes,
      certainly, that work is very objectionable. Your grandfather was an
      ideologist, a fool, an old lunatic. At sixty years of age to think of
      forming plans to overthrow my constitution! States would be well governed,
      truly, under such theorists, who judge of men from books and the world
      from the map."—"Sire, since my grandfather's plans are, in your
      Majesty's eyes, nothing but vain theories, I cannot conceive why they
      should so highly excite your displeasure. There is no political economist
      who has not traced out plans of constitutions."—"Oh! as to political
      economists, they are mere-visionaries, who are dreaming of plans of
      finance while they are unfit to fulfil the duties of a schoolmaster in the
      most insignificant village in the Empire. Your grandfather's work is that
      of an obstinate old man who died abusing all governments."—"Sire,
      may I presume to suppose, from the way in which you speak of it, that your
      Majesty judges from the report of malignant persons, and that you have not
      yourself read it."
    
Young De Stael said that his purpose in wanting to meet with the Emperor was to ask for his mother’s return to Paris. Napoleon listened patiently to the reasons he presented for his request and replied, "But what if I allow your mother to come back to Paris? Within six months, I’d have to send her to Bicetre or the Temple. I wouldn’t like that because it would cause a stir and hurt my reputation. Tell your mother that my mind is made up; my decision is final. She will never step foot in Paris as long as I live." — "Sire, I can’t believe you would imprison my mother without any reason for such harshness." — "She’d give me plenty! ... I know her well." — "Sire, let me say that I am sure my mother would live in Paris in a way that would give you no cause for concern; she would keep to herself and only see a few friends. Despite your Majesty’s refusal, I ask you to give her a chance, even if only for six weeks or a month. Please, Sire, allow her that time in Paris, and I urge you not to make any final decision beforehand." — "Do you think I'll be fooled by these nice promises? ... I tell you it's impossible. She’d become a focal point for the Faubourg St. Germain. She’d see no one, really? Could she make that sacrifice? She would have visitors and entertain guests. She’d commit a thousand mistakes. She’d say things she might think are funny, but I would take them seriously. My government is no joke: I want everyone to know that." — "Sire, may I remind you that my mother has no desire to engage in society? She would limit herself to a small circle of friends, a list of whom she would provide to your Majesty. You, Sire, who love France so much, can imagine the suffering my mother endures in her exile. I beg you to listen to my pleas and let us be among your loyal subjects." — "You!" — "Yes, Sire; or if you continue to refuse, allow a son to ask why you are displeased with his mother. Some say it was my grandfather's last work, but I assure your Majesty that my mother had nothing to do with that." — "Yes, certainly," Napoleon replied, showing more irritation than he had before. "Yes, certainly, that work is very problematic. Your grandfather was an ideologist, a fool, an old lunatic. At sixty, to think about forming plans to overturn my constitution! States would be well-governed under such theorists who judge people from books and the world from maps." — "Sire, since my grandfather's plans are, in your Majesty’s eyes, nothing but empty theories, I can’t understand why they would upset you so much. Every political economist has outlined constitutional plans." — "Oh! As for political economists, they are just dreamers, imagining financial plans while they're unfit to be a schoolmaster in the smallest village in the Empire. Your grandfather's work is that of a stubborn old man who died criticizing all governments." — "Sire, may I assume, based on your comments, that your Majesty’s opinion comes from the reports of malicious people and that you haven’t read it yourself?"







      "That is a mistake. I have read it myself from beginning to end."—
      "Then your Majesty must have seen how my grandfather renders justice to
      your genius."—"Fine justice, truly! . . . He calls me the
      indispensable man, but, judging from his arguments, the best thing that
      could be done would be to cut my throat! Yes, I was indeed indispensable
      to repair the follies of your grandfather, and the mischief he did to
      France. It was he who overturned the monarchy and led Louis XVI. to the
      scaffold."—"Sire, you seem to forget that my grandfather's property
      was confiscated because he defended the King."—"Defended the King! A
      fine defence, truly! You might as well say that if I give a man poison and
      present him with an antidote when he is in the agonies of death I wish to
      save him! Yet that is the way your grandfather defended Louis XVI..... As
      to the confiscation you speak of, what does that prove? Nothing. Why, the
      property of Robespierre was confiscated! And let me tell you that
      Robespierre himself, Marat, and Danton did much less mischief to France
      than M. Necker. It was he who brought about the Revolution. You, Monsieur
      de Stael, did not see this; but I did. I witnessed all that passed in
      those days of terror and public calamity. But as long as I live those days
      shall never return. Your speculators trace their Utopian schemes upon
      paper; fools read and believe them. All are babbling about general
      happiness, and presently the people have not bread to eat; then comes a
      revolution. Such is usually the fruit of all these fine theories! Your
      grandfather was the cause of the saturnalia which desolated France. He is
      responsible for all the blood shed in the Revolution!"
    
"That's a mistake. I've read it myself from start to finish."—"Then Your Majesty must have noticed how my grandfather shows justice to your talent."—"Such fine justice, indeed! He calls me the essential person, but based on his arguments, the best thing to do would be to cut my throat! Yes, I was indeed essential to fix your grandfather's mistakes and the damage he caused to France. He was the one who toppled the monarchy and led Louis XVI to the guillotine."—"Sire, you seem to forget that my grandfather's property was seized because he defended the King."—"Defended the King! That's a fine defense, truly! It’s like saying that if I give a man poison and then offer him an antidote while he’s dying, I want to save him! Yet that’s how your grandfather defended Louis XVI... As for the confiscation you mention, what does that prove? Nothing. Even Robespierre's property was taken! And let me tell you, Robespierre himself, Marat, and Danton did far less harm to France than M. Necker. It was he who caused the Revolution. You, Monsieur de Stael, didn’t see this, but I did. I witnessed everything that happened during those days of terror and public disaster. But as long as I live, those days will never come back. Your theorists sketch their utopian ideas on paper; fools read and believe them. Everyone talks about general happiness, and soon enough, the people have no bread to eat; then a revolution happens. That’s usually the outcome of all these grand theories! Your grandfather was the reason for the chaos that devastated France. He is to blame for all the bloodshed during the Revolution!"







      Duroc informed me that the Emperor uttered these last words in a tone of
      fury which made all present tremble for young De Stael. Fortunately the
      young man did not lose his self-possession in the conflict, while the
      agitated expression of his countenance evidently showed what was passing
      in his mind. He was sufficiently master of himself to reply to the Emperor
      in a calm though rather faltering voice: "Sire, permit me to hope that
      posterity will judge of my grandfather more favourably than your Majesty
      does. During his administration he was ranked by the side of Sully and
      Colbert; and let me repeat again that I trust posterity will render him
      justice."—"Posterity will, probably, say little about him."—
      "I venture to hope the contrary, Sire."
    
Duroc told me that the Emperor said these last words in a furious tone that made everyone present fear for young De Stael. Fortunately, the young man didn’t lose his composure during the confrontation, although the troubled look on his face clearly showed what was going through his mind. He was composed enough to respond to the Emperor in a calm but shaky voice: "Sire, I hope that future generations will judge my grandfather more kindly than you do. During his time, he was ranked alongside Sully and Colbert; and I want to emphasize again that I believe future generations will give him his due." — "Future generations will probably say little about him." — "I dare to hope for the opposite, Sire."







      Then, added Duroc, the Emperor turning to us said with a smile, "After
      all, gentlemen, it is not for me to say too much against the Revolution
      since I have gained a throne by it." Then again turning to M. de Stael he
      said, "The reign of anarchy is at au end. I must have subordination.
      Respect the sovereign authority, since it comes from God. You are young,
      and well educated, therefore; follow a better course, and avoid those bad
      principles which endanger the welfare of society."—"Sire, since your
      Majesty does me the honour to think me well educated, you ought not to
      condemn the principles of my grandfather and my mother, for it is in those
      principles that I have been brought up."—"Well, I advise you to keep
      right in politics, for I will not pardon any offences of the Necker kind.
      Every one should keep right in politics."
    
Then, Duroc added, the Emperor turned to us and said with a smile, "After all, gentlemen, it's not really my place to criticize the Revolution too much since I've gained a throne because of it." Then he turned to M. de Stael again and said, "The era of anarchy is over. I need order. Respect the sovereign authority, as it comes from God. You are young and well-educated, so follow a better path and steer clear of those harmful principles that threaten the well-being of society."—"Sire, since your Majesty honors me by considering me well-educated, you shouldn't condemn the principles of my grandfather and my mother, as those are the principles I was raised with."—"Well, I advise you to stay on the right side of politics, because I won't tolerate any Necker-like offenses. Everyone should be right in politics."







      This conversation, Duroc informed me, had continued the whole time of
      breakfast, and the Emperor rose just as he pronounced these last words:
      "Every one should keep right in politics." At that moment young De Stael
      again renewed his solicitations for his mother's recall from exile.
      Bonaparte then stepped up to him and pinched his ear with that air of
      familiarity which was customary to him when he was in good humour or
      wished to appear so.
    
This conversation, Duroc told me, had gone on throughout breakfast, and the Emperor stood up just as he said his final words: "Everyone should stay true in politics." At that moment, young De Stael once again asked for his mother's return from exile. Bonaparte then approached him and playfully pinched his ear, that familiar gesture he often used when he was in a good mood or wanted to seem like he was.







      "You are young," said he; "if you had my age and experience you would
      judge of things more correctly. I am far from being displeased with your
      frankness. I like to see a son plead his mother's cause. Your mother has
      given you a difficult commission, and you have executed it cleverly. I am
      glad I have had this opportunity of conversing with you. I love to talk
      with young people when they are unassuming and not too fond of arguing.
      But in spite of that I will not hold out false hopes to you. Murat has
      already spoken to me on the subject, and I have told him, as I now tell
      you, that my will is irrevocable. If your mother were in prison I should
      not hesitate to liberate her, but nothing shall induce me to recall her
      from exile."—"But, Sire, is she not as unhappy in being banished
      from her country and her friends as if she were in prison?"— "Oh!
      these are your mother's romantic ideas. She is exceedingly unhappy, and
      much to be pitied, no doubt! . . . With the exception of Paris she has all
      Europe for her prison."—"But, Sire, her friends are in Paris."—"With
      her talents she may make friends anywhere. After all, I cannot understand
      why she should be so anxious to come to Paris. Why should she wish to
      place herself immediately within the reach of my tyranny? Can she not go
      to Rome, to Berlin, to Vienna, to Milan, or to London? Yes, let her go to
      London; that is the place for her. There she may libel me as much as she
      pleases. In short, she has my full liberty to be anywhere but in Paris.
      You see, Monsieur de Stael, that is the place of my residence, and there I
      will have only those who are attached to me. I know from experience that
      if I were to allow your mother to come to Paris she would spoil everybody
      about me. She would finish the spoiling of Garat. It was she who ruined
      the Tribunate. I know she would promise wonders; but she cannot refrain
      from meddling with politics."—"I can assure your Majesty that my
      mother does not now concern herself about politics. She devotes herself
      exclusively to the society of her friends and to literature."—"Ah,
      there it is! . . . Literature! Do you think I am to be imposed upon by
      that word? While discoursing on literature, morals, the fine arts, and
      such matters, it is easy to dabble in politics. Let women mind their
      knitting. If your mother were in Paris I should hear all sorts of reports
      about her. Things might, indeed, be falsely attributed to her; but, be
      that as it may, I will have nothing of the kind going on in the capital in
      which I reside. All things considered, advise your mother to go to London.
      That is the best place for her. As for your grandfather, I have not spoken
      too severely of him. M. Necker knew nothing of the art of government. I
      have learned something of the matter during the last twenty years."—"All
      the world, Sire, renders justice to your Majesty's genius, and there is no
      one but acknowledges that the finances of France are now more prosperous
      than ever they were before your reign. But permit me to observe that your
      Majesty must, doubtless, have seen some merit in the financial regulations
      of my grandfather, since you have adopted some of them in the admirable
      system you have established."—"That proves nothing; for two or three
      good ideas do not constitute a good system. Be that as it may, I say
      again, I will never allow your mother to return to Paris."—"But,
      Sire, if sacred interests should absolutely require her presence there for
      a few days would not—"—"How! Sacred interests! What do you
      mean?"—"Yes, Sire, if you do not allow her to return I shall be
      obliged to go there, unaided by her advice, in order to recover from your
      Majesty's Government the payment of a sacred debt."—"Ah! bah!
      Sacred! Are not all the debts of the State sacred?"—"Doubtless,
      Sire; but ours is attended with circumstances which give it a peculiar
      character."—"A peculiar character! Nonsense! Does not every State
      creditor say the same of his debt? Besides, I know nothing of your claim.
      It does not concern me, and I will not meddle with it. If you have the law
      on your side so much the better; but if you want favour I tell you I will
      not interfere. If I did, I should be rather against you than otherwise."—"Sire,
      my brother and myself had intended to settle in France, but how can we
      live in a country where our mother cannot visit us?"—"I do not care
      for that. I do not advise you to come here. Go to England. The English
      like wrangling politicians. Go there, for in France, I tell you candidly,
      that I should be rather against you than for you."
    
"You’re young," he said. "If you had my age and experience, you’d see things more clearly. I’m not at all displeased with your honesty. I appreciate a son standing up for his mother. Your mother has given you a tough task, and you’ve handled it well. I’m glad we had this chance to talk. I enjoy speaking with young people when they’re humble and not overly argumentative. But I don’t want to give you any false hopes. Murat has already talked to me about this, and I’ve told him, just as I’m telling you now, that my decision is final. If your mother were in prison, I wouldn’t hesitate to free her, but nothing will convince me to bring her back from exile." — "But, Sire, isn’t she as unhappy being away from her country and friends as she would be in prison?" — "Oh! Those are just your mother’s romantic notions. She’s very unhappy, and I do pity her, no doubt! . . . Except for Paris, she has all of Europe as her prison." — "But, Sire, her friends are in Paris." — "With her talent, she can make friends anywhere. Honestly, I don’t understand why she’s so eager to go to Paris. Why would she want to put herself right under my control? Can’t she go to Rome, Berlin, Vienna, Milan, or London? Yes, let her go to London; that’s the right place for her. There, she can criticize me as much as she likes. In short, she has complete freedom to be anywhere but Paris. You see, Monsieur de Stael, that’s where I live, and I’ll only have people around me who are loyal to me. From experience, I know that if I let your mother come to Paris, she would spoil everything for me. She was the one who disrupted the Tribunate. I know she would promise amazing things; but she can’t help interfering in politics." — "I assure your Majesty that my mother isn’t focusing on politics anymore. She spends her time with her friends and on literature." — "Ah, there it is! . . . Literature! Do you really think I’m going to fall for that? While discussing literature, morals, the fine arts, and such, it’s easy to dabble in politics. Let women stick to their knitting. If your mother were in Paris, I would hear all kinds of rumors about her. Some things might be inaccurately attributed to her, but regardless, I won’t have such things happening in the capital where I reside. All things considered, advise your mother to go to London. That’s the best place for her. As for your grandfather, I haven’t spoken too harshly about him. M. Necker didn’t understand governance at all. I’ve learned a thing or two about it over the last twenty years." — "Everyone, Sire, acknowledges your Majesty’s genius, and it’s well recognized that France’s finances are more prosperous now than ever during your reign. But I must point out that your Majesty must have seen some merit in my grandfather’s financial policies, since you’ve adopted some of them in your remarkable system." — "That proves nothing; a couple of good ideas don’t make a good system. Regardless, I will say again, I will never allow your mother to return to Paris." — "But, Sire, if important matters absolutely require her presence there for a few days, wouldn’t—" — "What? Important matters! What do you mean?" — "Yes, Sire, if you don’t let her come back, I’ll have to go there, without her help, to recover a significant debt from your Majesty’s Government." — "Ah! Nonsense! Aren’t all state debts important?" — "Of course, Sire; but ours has specific circumstances that make it unique." — "Unique circumstances! Nonsense! Doesn’t every creditor say the same about their debt? Besides, I know nothing about your claim. It’s not my issue, and I won’t get involved. If you have the law on your side, that’s great; but if you’re looking for favor, I’m telling you I won’t interfere. If I did, I’d be more likely to be against you than for you." — "Sire, my brother and I intended to settle in France, but how can we live in a country where our mother can’t visit us?" — "I don’t care about that. I don’t recommend you come here. Go to England. The English enjoy quarrelsome politicians. Go there, because in France, I’m being honest when I say I’d be more against you than for you."







      "After this conversation," added Duroc, "the Emperor got into the carriage
      with me without stopping to look to the other petitions which had been
      presented to him. He preserved unbroken silence until he got nearly
      opposite the cascade, on the left of the road, a few leagues from
      Chambery. He appeared to be absorbed in reflection. At length he said, 'I
      fear I have been somewhat too harsh with this young man. . . . But no
      matter, it will prevent others from troubling me. These people calumniate
      everything I do. They do not understand me, Duroc; their place is not in
      France. How can Necker's family be for the Bourbons, whose first duty, if
      ever they returned to France, would be to hang them all.'"
    
"After this conversation," Duroc added, "the Emperor got into the carriage with me without even looking at the other petitions that had been submitted. He remained silent until we were almost opposite the waterfall on the left side of the road, a few leagues from Chambery. He seemed deep in thought. Finally, he said, 'I worry I may have been a bit too harsh with that young man... But it doesn’t matter, it will stop others from bothering me. These people slander everything I do. They don’t understand me, Duroc; they don’t belong in France. How can Necker’s family support the Bourbons, whose first duty, if they ever returned to France, would be to execute them all?'"







      This conversation, related to me by Duroc, interested me so much that I
      noted it down on paper immediately after my interview.
    
This conversation, shared with me by Duroc, intrigued me so much that I wrote it down on paper right after our interview.








 


 




















      CHAPTER XVII.
    



      1808.
    
1808.


   The Republic of Batavia—The crown of Holland offered to Louis—
   Offer and refusal of the crown of Spain—Napoleon's attempt to get
   possession of Brabant—Napoleon before and after Erfart—
   A remarkable letter to Louis—Louis summoned to Paris—His honesty
   and courage—His bold language—Louis' return to Holland, and his
   letter to Napoleon—Harsh letter from Napoleon to Louis—Affray at
   Amsterdam—Napoleon's displeasure and last letter to his brother—
   Louis' abdication in favour of his son—Union of Holland to the
   French Empire—Protest of Louis against that measure—Letter from M.
   Otto to Louis.

   The Republic of Batavia—the crown of Holland offered to Louis—  
   Offer and refusal of the crown of Spain—Napoleon's attempt to take  
   control of Brabant—Napoleon before and after Erfart—  
   An important letter to Louis—Louis called to Paris—His honesty  
   and courage—His bold words—Louis' return to Holland and his  
   letter to Napoleon—Tough letter from Napoleon to Louis—  
   Dispute in Amsterdam—Napoleon's anger and final letter to his brother—  
   Louis' abdication for the sake of his son—Union of Holland with the  
   French Empire—Louis' protest against that decision—Letter from M.  
   Otto to Louis.







      When Bonaparte was the chief of the French Republic he had no objection to
      the existence of a Batavian Republic in the north of France, and he
      equally tolerated the Cisalpine Republic in the south. But after the
      coronation all the Republics, which were grouped like satellites round the
      grand Republic, were converted into kingdoms subject to the Empire, if not
      avowedly, at least in fact. In this respect there was no difference
      between the Batavian and Cisalpine Republics. The latter having been
      metamorphosed into the Kingdom of Italy, it was necessary to find some
      pretext for transforming the former into the Kingdom of Holland. The
      government of the Republic of Batavia had been for some time past merely
      the shadow of a government, but still it preserved, even in its submission
      to France, those internal forms of freedom which console a nation for the
      loss of independence. The Emperor kept up such an extensive agency in
      Holland that he easily got up a deputation soliciting him to choose a king
      for the Batavian Republic. This submissive deputation came to Paris in
      1806 to solicit the Emperor, as a favour, to place Prince Louis on the
      throne of Holland. The address of the deputation, the answer of Napoleon,
      and the speech of Louis on being raised to the sovereign dignity, have all
      been published.
    
When Bonaparte was the leader of the French Republic, he had no issues with the Batavian Republic in the north of France, and he also tolerated the Cisalpine Republic in the south. But after his coronation, all the Republics, which were like satellites orbiting the grand Republic, were turned into kingdoms under the Empire, if not officially, then at least in practice. In this regard, there was no difference between the Batavian and Cisalpine Republics. The latter was transformed into the Kingdom of Italy, so it became necessary to find a reason to turn the former into the Kingdom of Holland. The government of the Republic of Batavia had long been just a shadow of a government, yet it still maintained, even in its submission to France, those internal forms of freedom that comfort a nation for the loss of independence. The Emperor maintained such a large presence in Holland that he easily organized a delegation asking him to choose a king for the Batavian Republic. This compliant delegation came to Paris in 1806 to request the Emperor, as a favor, to place Prince Louis on the throne of Holland. The speech of the delegation, the response from Napoleon, and Louis's speech upon being elevated to sovereign status have all been published.







      Louis became King of Holland much against his inclination, for he opposed
      the proposition as much as he dared, alleging as an objection the state of
      his health, to which certainly the climate of Holland was not favourable;
      but Bonaparte sternly replied to his remonstrance, "It is better to die a
      king than live a prince." He was then obliged to accept the crown. He went
      to Holland accompanied by Hortense, who, however, did mot stay long there.
      The new King wanted to make himself beloved by his subjects, and as they
      were an entirely commercial people the best way to win their affections
      was not to adopt Napoleon's rigid laws against commercial intercourse with
      England. Hence the first coolness between the two brothers, which ended in
      the abdication of Louis.
    
Louis became King of Holland against his will. He opposed the idea as much as he could, citing his health as a reason, which the climate of Holland certainly didn’t help. But Bonaparte firmly responded to his objections, "It’s better to die a king than to live as a prince." So, he had no choice but to accept the crown. He went to Holland with Hortense, who didn’t stay there for long. The new King wanted to be liked by his subjects, and since they were a completely commercial people, the best way to gain their favor was to avoid Napoleon's strict trade laws against England. This led to an initial tension between the two brothers, which eventually resulted in Louis's abdication.







      I know not whether Napoleon recollected the motive assigned by Louis for
      at first refusing the crown of Holland, namely, the climate of the
      country, or whether he calculated upon greater submission in another of
      his brothers; but this is certain, that Joseph was not called from the
      throne of Naples to the throne of Spain until after the refusal of Louis.
      I have in my possession a copy of a letter written to him by Napoleon on
      the subject. It is without date of time or place, but its contents prove
      it to have been written in March or April 1808. It is as follows:—
    
I don't know if Napoleon remembered the reason Louis initially declined the crown of Holland, which was the country's climate, or if he was expecting more obedience from another of his brothers. However, it's clear that Joseph wasn't called from the throne of Naples to the throne of Spain until after Louis's refusal. I have a copy of a letter Napoleon wrote to him about this. It doesn't have a date or location, but its contents indicate it was written in March or April 1808. Here it is:—






   BROTHER:—The King of Spain, Charles IV., has just abdicated. The
   Spanish people loudly appeal to me. Certain of obtaining no solid
   peace with England unless I cause a great movement on the Continent,
   I have determined to place a French King on the throne of Spain.
   The climate of Holland does not agree with you; besides, Holland
   cannot rise from her rains. In the whirlwind of events, whether we
   have peace or not, there is no possibility of her maintaining
   herself. In this state of things I have thought of the throne of
   Spain for you. Give me your opinions categorically on this measure.
   If I were to name you King of Spain would you accept the offer? May
   I count on you? Answer me these two questions. Say, "I have
   received your letter of such a day, I answer Yes," and then I shall
   count on your doing what I wish; or say "No" if you decline my
   proposal. Let no one enter into your confidence, and mention to no
   one the object of this letter. The thing must be done before we
   confess having thought about it.

                  (signed) NAPOLEON.

   BROTHER:—The King of Spain, Charles IV, has just stepped down. The Spanish people are calling on me for help. Since I can't secure lasting peace with England unless I create a significant shift in Europe, I've decided to put a French King on the throne of Spain. The weather in Holland isn’t good for you; plus, Holland can't recover from its constant rain. In this tumultuous situation, whether there’s peace or not, it can’t sustain itself. Given these circumstances, I've considered you for the throne of Spain. Please give me your thoughts on this plan clearly. If I were to make you King of Spain, would you accept? Can I count on you? Answer these two questions for me. Say, “I received your letter on such a day, I answer Yes,” and I’ll rely on you to do as I ask; or say “No” if you’re not interested. Keep this to yourself, and don’t mention the purpose of this letter to anyone. It should be done before we admit we even thought about it.

              (signed) NAPOLEON.







      Before finally seizing Holland Napoleon formed the project of separating
      Brabant and Zealand from it in exchange for other provinces, the
      possession of which was doubtful, but Louis successfully resisted this
      first act of usurpation. Bonaparte was, too intent on the great business
      in Spain to risk any commotion in the north, where the declaration of
      Russia against Sweden already sufficiently occupied him. He therefore did
      not insist upon, and even affected indifference to, the proposed
      augmentation of the territory of the Empire. This at least may be
      collected from another letter, dated St. Cloud, 17th August, written upon
      hearing from M. Alexandre de la Rochefoucauld, his Ambassador in Holland,
      and from his brother himself, the opposition of Louis to his project.
    
Before finally taking control of Holland, Napoleon planned to separate Brabant and Zealand from it in exchange for other provinces, the ownership of which was uncertain, but Louis successfully resisted this initial act of takeover. Bonaparte was too focused on the major situation in Spain to risk any disturbances in the north, where Russia's declaration against Sweden was already keeping him busy. So, he didn’t push the matter and even pretended to be indifferent to the proposed expansion of the Empire’s territory. This can be inferred from another letter dated St. Cloud, August 17th, written after hearing about Louis' opposition to his plan from M. Alexandre de la Rochefoucauld, his Ambassador in Holland, and from his brother himself.







      The letter was as follows:—
    
The letter was as follows:—






   BROTHER—I have received your letter relating to that of the Sieur
   de la Rochefoucauld. He was only authorised to make the proposals
   indirectly. Since the exchange does not please you, let us think no
   more about it. It was useless to make a parade of principles,
   though I never said that you ought not to consult the nation. The
   well-informed part of the Dutch people had already acknowledged
   their indifference to the loss of Brabant, which is connected with
   France rather than with Holland, and interspersed with expensive
   fortresses; it might have been advantageously exchanged for the
   northern provinces. But, once for all, since you do not like this
   arrangement, let no more be said about it. It was useless even to
   mention it to me, for the Sieur de la Rochefoucauld was instructed
   merely to hint the matter.

   BROTHER—I received your letter regarding the one from Sieur de la Rochefoucauld. He was only authorized to suggest the proposals indirectly. Since you’re not happy with the exchange, let’s drop it. It was pointless to make a show of principles, though I never said you shouldn’t consult the nation. The well-informed part of the Dutch population already admitted they didn’t care much about losing Brabant, which is more connected to France than Holland and filled with costly fortresses; it could have been beneficially exchanged for the northern provinces. But, since you're not in favor of this arrangement, let’s not discuss it any further. It was unnecessary to even bring it up with me, as Sieur de la Rochefoucauld was only instructed to hint at the matter.







      Though ill-humour here evidently peeps out beneath affected condescension,
      yet the tone of this letter is singularly moderate,—I may even say
      kind, in comparison with other letters which Napoleon addressed to Louis.
      This letter, it is true, was written previously to the interview at
      Erfurt, when Napoleon, to avoid alarming Russia, made his ambition appear
      to slumber. But when he got his brother Joseph recognised, and when he had
      himself struck an important blow in the Peninsula, he began to change his
      tone to Louis. On the 20th of December he wrote a very remarkable letter,
      which exhibits the unreserved expression of that tyranny which he wished
      to exercise over all his family in order to make them the instruments of
      his despotism. He reproached Louis for not following his system of policy,
      telling him that he had forgotten he was a Frenchman, and that he wished
      to become a Dutchman. Among other things he said:
    
Though bad humor clearly shows through the pretended kindness here, the tone of this letter is surprisingly moderate—I might even say kind—compared to other letters Napoleon wrote to Louis. This letter was, in fact, written before the meeting at Erfurt, when Napoleon, to avoid alarming Russia, made his ambition seem dormant. But once he had his brother Joseph recognized and had made a significant move in the Peninsula, he started to change his tone with Louis. On December 20th, he wrote a very notable letter that openly expressed the tyranny he wanted to impose on his family to make them tools of his despotism. He criticized Louis for not following his political agenda, telling him that he had forgotten he was French and that he wanted to become Dutch. Among other things, he said:






   Your Majesty has done more: you took advantage of the moment when I
   was involved in the affairs of the Continent to renew the relations
   between Holland and England—to violate the laws of the blockade,
   which are the only means of effectually destroying the latter power.
   I expressed my dissatisfaction by forbidding you to come to France,
   and I have made you feel that even without the assistance of my
   armies, by merely closing the Rhine, the Weser, the Scheldt, and the
   Meuse against Holland, I should have placed her in a situation more
   critical than if I had declared war against her. Your Majesty
   implored my generosity, appealed to my feelings as brother, and
   promised to alter your conduct. I thought this warning would be
   sufficient. I raised my custom-house prohibitions, but your Majesty
   has returned to your old system.

   Your Majesty received all the American ships that presented
   themselves in the ports of Holland after having been expelled from
   those of France. I have been obliged a second time to prohibit
   trade with Holland. In this state of things we may consider
   ourselves really at war. In my speech to the Legislative Body I
   manifested my displeasure; for I will not conceal from you that my
   intention is to unite Holland with France. This will be the most
   severe blow I can aim against England, and will deliver me from the
   perpetual insults which the plotters of your Cabinet are constantly
   directing against me. The mouths of the Rhine and of the Meuse
   ought, indeed, to belong to me. The principle that the 'Thalweg'
   (towing-path) of the Rhine is the boundary of France is a
   fundamental principle. Your Majesty writes to me on the 17th that
   you are sure of being able to prevent all trade between Holland and
   England. I am of opinion that your Majesty promises more than
   you can fulfil. I shall, however, remove my custom-house
   prohibitions whenever the existing treaties may be executed. The
   following are my conditions:—First, The interdiction of all trade
   and communication with England. Second, The supply of a fleet of
   fourteen sail-of the line, seven frigates and seven brigs or
   corvettes, armed and manned. Third, An army of 25,000 men. Fourth,
   The suppression of the rank of marshals. Fifth, The abolition of
   all the privileges of nobility which are contrary to the
   constitution which I have given and guaranteed. Your Majesty may
   negotiate on these bases with the Duc de Cadore, through the medium
   of your Minister; but be assured that on the entrance of the first
   packetboat into Holland I will restore my prohibitions, and that the
   first Dutch officer who may presume to insult my flag shall be
   seized, and hanged at the mainyard. Your Majesty will find in me a
   brother if you prove yourself a Frenchman; but if you forget the
   sentiments which attach you to our common country you cannot think
   it extraordinary that I should lose sight of those which nature
   created between us. In short, the union of Holland and France will
   be of all things, most useful to France, to Holland, and the whole
   Continent, because it will be most injurious to England. This union
   must be effected willingly or by force. Holland has given me
   sufficient reason to declare war against her. However, I shall not
   scruple to consent to an arrangement which will secure to me the
   limit of the Rhine, and by which Holland will pledge herself to
   fulfil the conditions stipulated above.

     —[Much of the manner in which Napoleon treated occupied
     countries such as Holland is explained by the spirit of his
     answer when Beugnot complained to him of the harm done to the
     Grand Duchy of Berg by the monopoly of tobacco. "It is
     extraordinary that you should not have discovered the motive
     that makes me persist in the establishment of the monopoly of
     tobacco in the Grand Duchy. The question is not about your
     Grand Duchy but about France. I am very well aware that it is
     not to your benefit, and that you very possibly lose by it, but
     what does that signify if it be for the good of France? I tell
     you, then, that in every country where there is a monopoly of
     tobacco, but which is contiguous to one where the sale is free,
     a regular smuggling infiltration must be reckoned on, supplying
     the consumption for twenty or twenty-five miles into the
     country subject to the duty. That is what I intend to preserve
     France from. You must protect yourselves as well as you can
     from this infiltration. It is enough for me to drive it back
     more than twenty or twenty-five miles from my frontier."
     (Beugnot, vol. ii. p. 26).]— 
Your Majesty has done more: you took advantage of the moment when I was busy with the matters of the Continent to renew relations between Holland and England—to break the laws of the blockade, which are the only way to effectively weaken the latter power. I expressed my dissatisfaction by banning you from coming to France, and I showed you that even without the help of my armies, by simply closing the Rhine, the Weser, the Scheldt, and the Meuse against Holland, I could have put her in a worse position than if I had declared war against her. Your Majesty begged for my generosity, appealed to my feelings as a brother, and promised to change your behavior. I thought this warning would be enough. I lifted my customs restrictions, but Your Majesty returned to your old ways.

Your Majesty welcomed all the American ships that arrived in Holland's ports after being expelled from France's ports. I have been forced to prohibit trade with Holland again. In this situation, we can truly consider ourselves at war. In my speech to the Legislative Body, I made my displeasure clear; for I will not hide from you that my intention is to unite Holland with France. This will be the most serious blow I can strike against England and will free me from the constant insults from the schemers in your Cabinet. The mouths of the Rhine and the Meuse really should belong to me. The principle that the 'Thalweg' (towing-path) of the Rhine is the boundary of France is fundamental. Your Majesty wrote to me on the 17th, saying you are confident you can prevent all trade between Holland and England. I believe Your Majesty promises more than you can deliver. However, I will lift my customs restrictions whenever the current treaties are fulfilled. Here are my conditions:—First, the ban on all trade and communication with England. Second, the provision of a fleet of fourteen ships of the line, seven frigates, and seven brigs or corvettes, fully armed and manned. Third, an army of 25,000 men. Fourth, the abolition of the rank of marshals. Fifth, the removal of all noble privileges that contradict the constitution I have established and guaranteed. Your Majesty may negotiate on these points with the Duc de Cadore through your Minister; but be assured that as soon as the first packet boat enters Holland, I will restore my prohibitions, and the first Dutch officer who dares to insult my flag will be seized and hanged from the mainyard. Your Majesty will find a brother in me if you prove yourself a Frenchman; but if you forget the loyalties that bind you to our shared country, you cannot expect that I will remember those that nature created between us. In short, the union of Holland and France will be of the greatest benefit to France, to Holland, and to the entire Continent because it will be most harmful to England. This union must be achieved willingly or by force. Holland has given me enough reason to declare war against her. However, I will not hesitate to agree to a deal that secures the Rhine boundary for me, whereby Holland will commit to fulfilling the conditions mentioned above.

—[Much of the way Napoleon dealt with occupied countries like Holland is reflected in his response when Beugnot complained about the damage caused to the Grand Duchy of Berg by the tobacco monopoly. "It's remarkable that you haven't realized the reason I insist on maintaining the tobacco monopoly in the Grand Duchy. The issue isn't about your Grand Duchy but about France. I'm fully aware that it’s not to your advantage and that you might actually be losing because of it, but what does that matter if it is for the good of France? I tell you that in every country where there is a tobacco monopoly adjacent to one where the sale is free, a consistent smuggling influx must be expected, supplying consumption for twenty or twenty-five miles into the taxed area. That is what I intend to keep France safe from. You need to protect yourselves against this infiltration as best you can. It's enough for me to push it back more than twenty or twenty-five miles from my border." (Beugnot, vol. ii. p. 26).]—







      Here the correspondence between the two brothers was suspended for a time;
      but Louis still continued exposed to new vexations on the part of
      Napoleon. About the end of 1809 the Emperor summoned all the sovereigns
      who might be called his vassals to Paris. Among the number was Louis, who,
      however, did not show himself very willing to quit his States. He called a
      council of his Ministers, who were of opinion that for the interest of
      Holland he ought to make this new sacrifice. He did so with resignation.
      Indeed, every day passed on the throne was a sacrifice made by Louis.
    
Here, the communication between the two brothers was put on hold for a while; however, Louis continued to face new troubles from Napoleon. Towards the end of 1809, the Emperor called all the rulers who could be considered his vassals to Paris. Louis was among them, but he wasn’t too eager to leave his territories. He summoned a council of his Ministers, who believed that for the sake of Holland, he should make this new sacrifice. He complied with a sense of duty. In fact, every day spent on the throne was a sacrifice for Louis.







      He lived very quietly in Paris, and was closely watched by the police, for
      it was supposed that as he had come against his will he would not protract
      his stay so long as Napoleon wished. The system of espionage under which
      he found himself placed, added to the other circumstances of his
      situation, inspired him with a degree of energy of which he was not
      believed to be capable; and amidst the general silence of the servants of
      the Empire, and even of the Kings and Princes assembled in the capital, he
      ventured to say, "I have been deceived by promises which were never
      intended to be kept. Holland is tired of being the sport of France." The
      Emperor, who was unused to such language as this, was highly incensed at
      it. Louis had now no alternative but to yield to the incessant exactions
      of Napoleon or to see Holland united to France. He chose the latter,
      though not before he had exerted all his feeble power in behalf of the
      subjects whom Napoleon had consigned to him; but he would not be the
      accomplice of the man who had resolved to make those subjects the victims
      of his hatred against England. Who, indeed, could be so blind as not to
      see that the ruin of the Continent would be the triumph of British
      commerce?
    
He lived quietly in Paris and was closely monitored by the police because it was believed that since he had come against his will, he wouldn’t stay as long as Napoleon wanted. The surveillance he faced, along with his other circumstances, fueled a level of energy that people didn’t think he had. Amid the general silence of the Empire’s servants, as well as the Kings and Princes gathered in the capital, he dared to say, "I’ve been misled by promises that were never meant to be kept. Holland is tired of being at France's mercy." The Emperor, who wasn’t used to hearing such things, was furious. Louis had no choice but to either give in to Napoleon's constant demands or allow Holland to be annexed by France. He chose the latter, but not before he used all his limited power to stand up for the people Napoleon had assigned to him; however, he refused to be an accomplice to someone who intended to make those people victims of his hatred for England. Who, really, could be so blind as to not see that the ruin of the Continent would mean a victory for British trade?







      Louis was, however, permitted to return to his States to contemplate the
      stagnating effect of the Continental blockade on every branch of trade and
      industry formerly so active in Holland. Distressed at witnessing evils to
      which he could apply no remedy, he endeavoured by some prudent
      remonstrances to avert the utter, ruin with which Holland was threatened.
      On the 23d of March 1810 he wrote the following letter to Napoleon:—
    
Louis was allowed to go back to his territory to think about the crippling impact of the Continental blockade on all the trade and industry that used to thrive in Holland. Upset by the problems he couldn’t fix, he tried through some sensible warnings to prevent the complete disaster that was looming over Holland. On March 23, 1810, he wrote the following letter to Napoleon:—






   If you wish to consolidate the present state of France, to obtain
   maritime peace, or to attack England with advantage, those objects
   are not to be obtained by measures like the blockading system, the
   destruction of a kingdom raised by yourself, or the enfeebling of
   your allies, and setting at defiance their most sacred rights and
   the first principles of the law of nations. You should, on the
   contrary, win their affections for France, and consolidate and
   reinforce your allies, making them like your brothers, in whom you
   may place confidence. The destruction of Holland, far from being
   the means of assailing England, will serve only to increase her
   strength, by all the industry and wealth which will fly to her for
   refuge. There are, in reality, only three ways of assailing
   England, namely, by detaching Ireland, getting possession of the
   East Indies, or by invasion. These two latter modes, which would be
   the most effectual, cannot be executed without naval force. But I
   am astonished that the first should have been so easily
   relinquished. That is a more secure mode of obtaining peace on good
   conditions than the system of injuring ourselves for the sake of
   committing a greater injury upon the enemy.

                    (Signed) LOUIS.

If you want to strengthen the current state of France, achieve maritime peace, or attack England successfully, you won't achieve these goals through strategies like blockades, destroying a kingdom that you built, or weakening your allies while disregarding their most sacred rights and the fundamental principles of international law. Instead, you should win the loyalty of your allies and strengthen them, treating them like brothers whom you can trust. Destroying Holland will only boost England's power, as all the industry and wealth will seek refuge there. In reality, there are only three effective ways to challenge England: by detaching Ireland, taking control of the East Indies, or through invasion. The latter two methods, which would be the most effective, can't be executed without naval power. I'm surprised that the first option has been so easily set aside. It's a more reliable way to secure peace on favorable terms than harming ourselves just to inflict a greater injury on the enemy.

                    (Signed) LOUIS.







      Written remonstrances were no more to Napoleon's taste than verbal ones at
      a time when, as I was informed by my friends whom fortune chained to his
      destiny, no one presumed to address a word to him except in answer to his
      questions. Cambacérès, who alone had retained that privilege in public as
      his old colleague in the Consulate, lost it after Napoleon's marriage with
      the daughter of Imperial Austria. His brother's letter highly roused his
      displeasure. Two months after he received it, being on a journey in the
      north, he replied from Ostend by a letter which cannot be read without a
      feeling of pain, since it serves to show how weak are the most sacred ties
      of blood in comparison with the interests of an insatiable policy. This
      letter was as follows:
    
Written complaints were just as unappealing to Napoleon as spoken ones during a time when, according to my friends who were tied to his fate, nobody dared to say a word to him unless he asked a question. Cambacérès, who was the only one left with that privilege in public as his former colleague in the Consulate, lost it after Napoleon married the daughter of Imperial Austria. His brother's letter greatly angered him. Two months after he got it, while traveling in the north, he replied from Ostend with a letter that is painful to read, as it shows how weak the most sacred family bonds can be compared to the demands of relentless ambition. This letter was as follows:






   BROTHER—In the situation in which we are placed it is best to speak
   candidly. I know your secret sentiments, and all that you can say
   to the contrary can avail nothing. Holland is certainly in a
   melancholy situation. I believe you are anxious to extricate her
   from her difficulties: it is you; and you alone, who can do this.

   When you conduct yourself in such a way as to induce the people of
   Holland to believe that you act under my influence, that all your
   measures and all your sentiments are conformable with mine, then you
   will be loved, you will be esteemed, and you will acquire the power
   requisite for re-establishing Holland: when to be my friend, and the
   friend of France, shall become a title of favour at your court,
   Holland will be in her natural situation. Since your return from
   Paris you have done nothing to effect this object. What will be the
   result of your conduct? Your subjects, bandied about between France
   and England, will throw themselves into the arms of France, and will
   demand to be united to her. You know my character, which is to
   pursue my object unimpeded by any consideration. What, therefore,
   do you expect me to do? I can dispense with Holland, but Holland
   cannot dispense with my protection. If, under the dominion of one
   of my brothers, but looking to me alone for her welfare, she does
   not find in her sovereign my image, all confidence in your
   government is at an end; your sceptre is broken. Love France, love
   my glory—that is the only way to serve Holland: if you had acted as
   you ought to have done that country, having becoming a part of my
   Empire, would have been the more dear to me since I had given her a
   sovereign whom I almost regarded as my son. In placing you on the
   throne of Holland I thought I had placed a French citizen there.
   You have followed a course diametrically opposite to what I
   expected. I have been forced to prohibit you from coming to France,
   and to take possession of a part of your territory. In proving
   yourself a bad Frenchman you are less to the Dutch than a Prince of
   Orange, to whose family they owe their rank as a nation, and a long
   succession of prosperity and glory. By your banishment from France
   the Dutch are convinced that they have lost what they would not have
   lost under a Schimmelpenninek or a Prince of Orange. Prove yourself
   a Frenchman, and the brother of the Emperor, and be assured that
   thereby you will serve the interests of Holland. But you seem to be
   incorrigible, for you would drive away the few Frenchmen who remain
   with you. You must be dealt with, not by affectionate advice, but
   by threats and compulsion. What mean the prayers and mysterious
   fasts you have ordered? Louis, you will not reign long. Your
   actions disclose better than your confidential letters the
   sentiments of your mind. Return to the right course. Be a
   Frenchman in heart, or your people will banish you, and you will
   leave Holland an object of ridicule.

     —[It was, on the contrary, became Louis made himself a
     Dutchman that his people did not banish him, and that he
     carried away with him the regret of all that portion of his
     subjects who could appreciate his excellent qualities and
     possessed good sense enough to perceive that he was not to
     blame for the evils that weighed upon Holland.—Bourrienne.
     The conduct of Bonaparte to Murat was almost a counterpart to
     this. When Murat attempted to consult the interests of Naples
     he was called a traitor to France.—Editor of 1836 edition.]—

   States must be governed by reason and policy, and not by the
   weakness produced by acrid and vitiated humours.

                    (Signed) NAPOLEON.

   BROTHER—Given the situation we’re in, it’s best to be straightforward. I understand your true feelings, and anything you say to the contrary won’t change that. Holland is certainly in a tough spot. I believe you want to help her out of her troubles: it’s you and you alone who can do this.

   When you act in a way that makes the people of Holland believe you’re under my influence, that all your decisions and feelings align with mine, then you will be loved, respected, and you'll gain the power needed to restore Holland. When being my friend, and the friend of France, becomes a valued title at your court, Holland will be in its rightful place. Since your return from Paris, you haven’t done anything to achieve this. What will happen if this continues? Your subjects, caught between France and England, will lean toward France and seek to join her. You know how I operate: I pursue my goals without being held back by anything. So, what do you expect me to do? I can manage without Holland, but Holland can't survive without my protection. If, under the rule of one of my brothers, she looks to me for her well-being and doesn’t see in her sovereign the image of me, all trust in your leadership will be lost; your power will be broken. Love France, love my glory—that’s the only way to serve Holland. If you had acted as you should have, that country, having become part of my Empire, would be even dearer to me since I put you in power, whom I almost saw as my son. When I placed you on the throne of Holland, I thought I was placing a French citizen there. You’ve taken a path completely opposite to what I expected. I’ve had to prohibit you from coming to France and to seize part of your territory. By showing yourself to be a bad Frenchman, you are less valued by the Dutch than a Prince of Orange, to whose family they owe their status as a nation, as well as a long history of prosperity and glory. Your exile from France leads the Dutch to believe they’ve lost something they wouldn’t have lost under a Schimmelpenninck or a Prince of Orange. Prove that you are a Frenchman and the brother of the Emperor, and you’ll see that you will serve Holland’s interests. But you seem unchangeable, as you drive away the few Frenchmen who remain with you. You need to be handled not with friendly advice, but with threats and pressure. What do the prayers and mysterious fasts you’ve ordered mean? Louis, you won’t reign for long. Your actions reveal more than your private letters the thoughts on your mind. Get back on the right track. Be a Frenchman at heart, or your people will drive you out, leaving Holland a laughingstock.

     —[On the contrary, it was when Louis embraced his Dutch identity that his people did not banish him, and he took with him the regret of those subjects who recognized his excellent qualities and understood he wasn’t to blame for Holland’s troubles.—Bourrienne. The treatment of Bonaparte towards Murat was nearly the same. When Murat tried to look after Naples' interests, he was branded a traitor to France.—Editor of 1836 edition.]—

   States must be governed by reason and strategy, not by weakness arising from bitterness and distorted emotions.

                    (Signed) NAPOLEON.







      A few days after this letter was despatched to Louis, Napoleon heard of a
      paltry affray which had taken place at Amsterdam, and to which Comte de la
      Rochefoucauld gave a temporary diplomatic importance, being aware that he
      could not better please his master than by affording him an excuse for
      being angry. It appeared that the honour of the Count's coachman had been
      put in jeopardy by the insult of a citizen of Amsterdam, and a quarrel had
      ensued, which, but for the interference of the guard of the palace, might
      have terminated seriously since it assumed the character of a party affair
      between the French and the Dutch. M. de la Rochefoucauld immediately
      despatched to the Emperor, who was then at Lille, a full report of his
      coachman's quarrel, in which he expressed himself with as much earnestness
      as the illustrious author of the "Maxims" evinced when he waged war
      against kings. The consequence was that Napoleon instantly fulminated the
      following letter against his brother Louis:
    
A few days after this letter was sent to Louis, Napoleon heard about a minor altercation that had happened in Amsterdam, which Comte de la Rochefoucauld temporarily elevated to diplomatic importance, knowing that he couldn’t better please his master than by giving him a reason to be upset. It seemed that the honor of the Count's coachman was threatened by an insult from a citizen of Amsterdam, leading to a quarrel that could have escalated into a serious issue if not for the intervention of the palace guards, as it turned into a faction dispute between the French and the Dutch. M. de la Rochefoucauld quickly sent a full report about his coachman’s dispute to the Emperor, who was then in Lille, expressing himself with as much fervor as the famous author of the "Maxims" did when he fought against kings. The result was that Napoleon immediately fired off the following letter to his brother Louis:






   BROTHER—At the very moment when you were making the fairest
   protestations I learn that the servants of my Ambassador have been
   ill-treated at Amsterdam. I insist that those who were guilty of
   this outrage be delivered up to me, in order that their punishment
   may serve as an example to others. The Sieur Serrurier has informed
   me how you conducted yourself at the diplomatic audiences. I have,
   consequently, determined that the Dutch Ambassador shall not remain
   in Paris; and Admiral Yerhuell has received orders to depart within
   twenty-four hours. I want no more phrases and protestations. It is
   time I should know whether you intend to ruin Holland by your
   follies. I do not choose that you should again send a Minister to
   Austria, or that you should dismiss the French who are in your
   service. I have recalled my Ambassador as I intend only to have a
   charge d'affaires in Holland. The Sieur Serrurier, who remains
   there in that capacity, will communicate my intentions. My
   Ambassador shall no longer be exposed to your insults. Write to me
   no more of those set phrases which you have been repeating for the
   last three years, and the falsehood of which is proved every day.

   This is the last letter I will ever write to you as long as I live.

               (Signed)  NAPOLEON.

   BROTHER—Right when you were making the most honorable protests, I find out that my Ambassador's staff has been mistreated in Amsterdam. I demand that those responsible for this incident be handed over to me so their punishment can serve as a warning to others. The Sieur Serrurier has updated me on your behavior during the diplomatic meetings. As a result, I've decided that the Dutch Ambassador must leave Paris; Admiral Yerhuell has been ordered to depart within twenty-four hours. I don't want any more empty words or protests. It's time for me to understand whether you plan to bring ruin to Holland with your foolishness. I will not allow you to send another Minister to Austria or to dismiss the French who work for you. I have recalled my Ambassador because I will only have a chargé d'affaires in Holland. The Sieur Serrurier, who will remain there in that role, will convey my intentions. My Ambassador will no longer endure your insults. Do not write to me again with those rehearsed phrases you've been using for the past three years, which are proven false every day.

   This is the last letter I will ever send you as long as I live.

               (Signed)  NAPOLEON.







      Thus reduced to the cruel alternative of crushing Holland with his own
      hands, or leaving that task to the Emperor, Louis did not hesitate to lay
      down his sceptre. Having formed this resolution, he addressed a message to
      the Legislative Body of the Kingdom of Holland explaining the motives of
      his abdication. The French troops entered Holland under the command of the
      Duke of Reggio, and that marshal, who was more a king than the King
      himself, threatened to occupy Amsterdam. Louis then descended from his
      throne, and four years after Napoleon was hurled from his.
    
Facing the harsh choice of either destroying Holland himself or letting the Emperor do it, Louis didn’t think twice about stepping down. After making this decision, he sent a message to the Legislative Body of the Kingdom of Holland detailing why he was abdicating. French troops rolled into Holland led by the Duke of Reggio, who acted more like a king than the actual king, and threatened to take over Amsterdam. Louis then left his throne, and four years later, Napoleon was ousted from his.







      In his act of abdication Louis declared that he had been driven to that
      step by the unhappy state of his Kingdom, which he attributed to his
      brother's unfavourable feelings towards him. He added that he had made
      every effort and sacrifice to put an end to that painful state of things,
      and that, finally, he regarded himself as the cause of the continual
      misunderstanding between the French Empire and Holland. It is curious that
      Louis thought he could abdicate the crown of Holland in favour of his son,
      as Napoleon only four years after wished to abdicate his crown in favour
      of the King of Rome.
    
In his abdication statement, Louis claimed he was compelled to take that step due to the unfortunate condition of his Kingdom, which he blamed on his brother's negative attitude towards him. He stated that he had done everything possible and made sacrifices to end that distressing situation, and ultimately, he saw himself as the reason for the ongoing conflict between the French Empire and Holland. It's interesting that Louis believed he could pass the crown of Holland to his son, just as Napoleon, four years later, wanted to transfer his crown to the King of Rome.







      Louis bade farewell to the people of Holland in a proclamation, after the
      publication of which he repaired to the waters at Toeplitz. There he was
      living in tranquil retirement when he learned that his brother had united
      Holland to the Empire. He then published a protest, of which I obtained a
      copy, though its circulation was strictly prohibited by the police. In
      this protest Louis said:
    
Louis said goodbye to the people of Holland in a proclamation. After that, he went to the waters at Toeplitz. He was enjoying a peaceful retirement when he found out that his brother had joined Holland to the Empire. He then released a protest, of which I managed to get a copy, even though the police had banned its circulation. In this protest, Louis stated:






   The constitution of the state guaranteed by the Emperor, my brother,
   gave me the right of abdicating in favour of my children. That
   abdication was made in the form and terms prescribed by the
   constitution. The Emperor had no right to declare war against
   Holland, and he has not done so.

   There is no act, no dissent, no demand of the Dutch nation that can
   authorise the pretended union.

   My abdication does not leave the throne vacant. I have abdicated
   only in favour of my children.

   As that abdication left Holland for twelve years under a regency,
   that is to say, under the direct influence of the Emperor, according
   to the terms of the constitution, there was no need of that union
   for executing every measure he might have in view against trade and
   against England, since his will was supreme in Holland.

   But I ascended the throne without any other conditions except those
   imposed upon me by my conscience, my duty, and the interest and
   welfare of my subjects. I therefore declare before God and the
   independent sovereigns to whom I address myself—

   First, That the treaty of the 16th of March 1810, which occasioned
   the separation of the province of Zealand and Brabant from Holland,
   was accepted by compulsion, and ratified conditionally by me in
   Paris, where I was detained against my will; and that, moreover, the
   treaty was never executed by the Emperor my brother. Instead of
   6000 French troops which I was to maintain, according to the terms
   of the treaty, that number has been more than doubled; instead of
   occupying only the mouths of the rivers and the coasts, the French
   custom-horses have encroached into the interior of the country;
   instead of the interference of France being confined to the measures
   connected with the blockade of England, Dutch magazines have been
   seized and Dutch subjects arbitrarily imprisoned; finally, none of
   the verbal promises have been kept which were made in the Emperor's
   name by the Duc de Cadore to grant indemnities for the countries
   ceded by the said treaty and to mitigate its execution, if the King
   would refer entirely to the Emperor, etc. I declare, in my name, in
   the name of the nation and my son, the treaty of the 16th of March
   1810 to be null and void.

   Second, I declare that my abdication was forced by the Emperor, my
   brother, that it was made only as the last extremity, and on this
   one condition—that I should maintain the rights of Holland and my
   children. My abdication could only be made in their favour.

   Third, In my name, in the name of the King my son, who is as yet a
   minor, and in the name of the Dutch nation, I declare the pretended
   union of Holland to France, mentioned in the decree of the Emperor,
   my brother, dated the 9th of July last, to be null, void, illegal,
   unjust, and arbitrary in the eyes of God and man, and that the
   nation and the minor King will assert their just rights when
   circumstances permit them.
                    (Signed)LOUIS.
   August 1, 1810.

   The constitution of the state, guaranteed by the Emperor, my brother, gave me the right to abdicate in favor of my children. That abdication was carried out according to the terms set by the constitution. The Emperor had no authority to declare war against Holland, and he hasn't done so.

   There is no action, no disagreement, and no demand from the Dutch nation that justifies the so-called union.

   My abdication does not leave the throne open. I have abdicated only in favor of my children.

   Since my abdication left Holland under a regency for twelve years, meaning under the direct influence of the Emperor, in line with the constitution, there was no need for that union to push through any measures he might have against trade and England, as his will was absolute in Holland.

   However, I took the throne with no other conditions except those dictated by my conscience, my duty, and the interests and welfare of my subjects. Therefore, I declare before God and the independent rulers to whom I am addressing myself—

   First, that the treaty of March 16, 1810, which led to the separation of the provinces of Zealand and Brabant from Holland, was accepted under duress, and I ratified it conditionally in Paris, where I was held against my will; furthermore, the treaty was never executed by the Emperor, my brother. Instead of the 6,000 French troops I was supposed to maintain per the treaty, that number has more than doubled; instead of just occupying the mouths of the rivers and the coasts, French customs officials have moved further into the country; rather than French interference being limited to actions related to the blockade of England, Dutch supplies have been seized and Dutch citizens have been jailed arbitrarily; finally, none of the verbal promises made in the Emperor's name by the Duc de Cadore to provide compensations for the territories ceded by that treaty and to ease its implementation, if the King would fully refer back to the Emperor, have been kept. I hereby declare, on my behalf, on behalf of the nation, and my son, that the treaty of March 16, 1810, is null and void.

   Second, I declare that my abdication was forced by the Emperor, my brother, that it was a last resort, and on one condition—that I maintain the rights of Holland and my children. My abdication could only be made in their favor.

   Third, on my behalf, on behalf of my son the King, who is still a minor, and on behalf of the Dutch nation, I declare the so-called union of Holland with France, as stated in the decree from the Emperor, my brother, dated July 9, to be null, void, illegal, unjust, and arbitrary before God and humanity, and that the nation, along with the young King, will assert their rightful claims when the situation allows.
                    (Signed) LOUIS.
   August 1, 1810.







      Thus there seemed to be an end of all intercourse between these two
      brothers, who were so opposite in character and disposition. But Napoleon,
      who was enraged that Louis should have presumed to protest, and that in
      energetic terms, against the union of his Kingdom with the Empire, ordered
      him to return to France, whither he was summoned in his character of
      Constable and French Prince. Louis, however, did not think proper to obey
      this summons, and Napoleon, mindful of his promise of never writing to him
      again, ordered the following letter to be addressed to him by M. Otto, who
      had been Ambassador from France to Vienna since the then recent marriage
      of the Emperor with Maria Louisa—
    
Thus, it seemed that all communication between these two brothers, who were so different in personality and temperament, had come to an end. But Napoleon, furious that Louis had dared to object in strong terms to the merging of his kingdom with the Empire, commanded him to return to France, where he was summoned as Constable and French Prince. However, Louis didn’t feel it was appropriate to comply with this request, and remembering his promise never to write to him again, Napoleon had M. Otto, who had been the Ambassador from France to Vienna since the recent marriage of the Emperor to Maria Louisa, send the following letter to him—






   SIRE:—The Emperor directs me to write to your Majesty as follows:—
   "It is the duty of every French Prince, and every member of the
   Imperial family, to reside in France, whence they cannot absent
   themselves without the permission of the Emperor. Before the union
   of Holland to the Empire the Emperor permitted the King to reside at
   Toeplitz, is Bohemia. His health appeared to require the use of the
   waters, but now the Emperor requires that Prince Louis shall return,
   at the latest by the 1st of December next, under pain of being
   considered as disobeying the constitution of the Empire and the head
   of his family, and being treated accordingly."

   I fulfil, Sire, word for word the mission with which I have been
   entrusted, and I send the chief secretary of the embassy to be
   assured that this letter is rightly delivered. I beg your Majesty
   to accept the homage of my respect, etc.

                       (Signed)OTTO.

     —[The eldest son of Louis, one of the fruits of his unhappy
     marriage with Hortense Beauharnais, the daughter of Josephine,
     the wife of his brother Napoleon, was little more than six
     years of age when his father abdicated the crown of Holland in
     his favour. In 1830-31 this imprudent young man joined the
     ill-combined mad insurrection in the States of the Pope. He
     was present in one or two petty skirmishes, and was, we
     believe, wounded; but it was a malaria fever caught in the
     unhealthy Campagna of Rome that carried him to the grave in the
     twenty-seventh year of his age.—Editor of 1836 edition.—
     The first child of Louis and of Hortense had died in 1807.
     The second son, Napoleon Louis (1804-1831) in whose favour he
     abdicated had been created Grand Duc de Berg et de Cleves by
     Napoleon in 1809. He married to 1826 Charlotte, the daughter
     of Joseph Bonaparte, and died in 1831, while engaged in a
     revolutionary movement in Italy. On his death his younger
     brother Charles Louis Napoleon, the future Napoleon III., first
     came forward as an aspirant.]— 
   SIRE:—The Emperor has instructed me to write to Your Majesty as follows:—
   "Every French prince and every member of the Imperial family must live in France and cannot leave without the Emperor's permission. Before Holland joined the Empire, the Emperor allowed the King to stay in Toeplitz, Bohemia, for his health, as he needed the waters. However, now the Emperor requires that Prince Louis return by December 1st at the latest, or he will be considered as disobeying the Empire's constitution and the head of his family, with consequences."

   I am carrying out, Sire, exactly the mission I've been given, and I'm sending the chief secretary of the embassy to ensure this letter is delivered correctly. I respectfully ask Your Majesty to accept my homage, etc.

                       (Signed)OTTO.

     —[The eldest son of Louis, a result of his unfortunate marriage to Hortense Beauharnais, daughter of Josephine, who was married to his brother Napoleon, was just over six years old when his father gave up the crown of Holland in his favor. In 1830-31, this reckless young man joined the poorly organized and chaotic uprising against the Pope. He participated in a couple of minor skirmishes and was reportedly wounded; however, it was malaria contracted in the unhealthy Campagna of Rome that ultimately led to his death at the age of twenty-seven.—Editor of the 1836 edition.— The first child of Louis and Hortense had died in 1807. The second son, Napoleon Louis (1804-1831), for whom he abdicated, was made Grand Duke of Berg and Cleves by Napoleon in 1809. He married Charlotte, daughter of Joseph Bonaparte, in 1826 and died in 1831 while participating in a revolutionary movement in Italy. After his death, his younger brother Charles Louis Napoleon, who would later become Napoleon III, emerged as a contender.]—







      What a letter was this to be addressed by a subject to a prince and a
      sovereign. When I afterwards saw M. Otto in Paris, and conversed with him
      on the subject, he assured me how much he had been distressed at the
      necessity of writing such a letter to the brother of the Emperor. He had
      employed the expressions dictated by Napoleon in that irritation which he
      could never command when his will was opposed.
    
What a letter this was to be written by a subject to a prince and a sovereign. Later, when I saw M. Otto in Paris and talked to him about it, he told me how much he had struggled with the need to write such a letter to the brother of the Emperor. He used the words that Napoleon had dictated in the frustration he could never control when his will was challenged.






 —[With regard to Louis and his conduct in Holland Napoleon thus
   spoke at St. Helena:

   "Louis is not devoid of intelligence, and has a good heart, but even
   with these qualifications a man may commit many errors, and do a
   great deal of mischief. Louis is naturally inclined to be
   capricious and fantastical, and the works of Jean Jacques Rousseau
   have contributed to increase this disposition. Seeking to obtain a
   reputation for sensibility and beneficence, incapable by himself of
   enlarged views, and, at most, competent to local details, Louis
   acted like a prefect rather than a King.

   "No sooner had he arrived in Holland than, fancying that nothing
   could be finer than to have it said that he was thenceforth a true
   Dutchman, he attached himself entirely to the party favourable to
   the English, promoted smuggling, and than connived with our enemies.
   It became necessary from that moment watch over him, and even
   threaten to wage war against him. Louis then seeking a refuge
   against the weakness of his disposition in the most stubborn
   obstinacy, and mistaking a public scandal for an act of glory, fled
   from his throne, declaiming against me and against my insatiable
   ambition, my intolerable tyranny, etc. What then remained for me to
   do? Was I to abandon Holland to our enemies? Ought I to have given
   it another King? But is that case could I have expected more from
   him than from my own brother? Did not all the Kings that I created
   act nearly in the same manner? I therefore united Holland to the
   Empire, and this act produced a most unfavourable impression in
   Europe, and contributed not a little to lay the foundation of our
   misfortunes" (Memorial de Sainte Helene)]— 
—[Regarding Louis and his actions in Holland, Napoleon commented at St. Helena:

   "Louis isn't lacking in intelligence, and he has a good heart, but even with those qualities, a person can make a lot of mistakes and cause significant harm. Louis tends to be unpredictable and fanciful, and the ideas of Jean Jacques Rousseau have only added to this tendency. In his quest for a reputation for sensitivity and kindness, which he can't achieve on his own due to his limited perspective and skills mostly suited for local matters, Louis behaved more like a prefect than a King.

   "As soon as he arrived in Holland, convinced that it would be wonderful to be seen as a true Dutchman, he aligned himself completely with the faction supportive of the English, encouraged smuggling, and then colluded with our enemies. From that point on, it became necessary to keep a close watch on him, even threatening him with war. In response, Louis, seeking to escape his weakness through stubbornness and mistaking public outrage for a heroic act, abandoned his throne, railing against me and my supposed insatiable ambition, intolerable tyranny, etc. So what was I supposed to do? Should I leave Holland to our enemies? Should I have appointed another King? But what could I have expected more from him than from my own brother? Didn't all the Kings I placed in power behave similarly? Therefore, I joined Holland to the Empire, and this decision left a very negative impression in Europe, significantly laying the groundwork for our misfortunes" (Memorial de Sainte Helene)]—








 


 




















      CHAPTER XVIII.
    



      1809.
    
1809.


   Demands for contingents from some of the small States of Germany—
   M. Metternich—Position of Russia with respect to France—Union of
   Austria and Russia—Return of the English to Spain—Soult King of
   Portugal, and Murat successor to the Emperor—First levy of the
   landwehr in Austria—Agents of the Hamburg 'Correspondent'—
   Declaration of Prince Charles—Napoleon's march to Germany—His
   proclamation—Bernadotte's departure for the army—Napoleon's
   dislike of Bernadotte—Prince Charles' plan of campaign—The English
   at Cuxhaven—Fruitlessness of the plots of England—Napoleon
   wounded—Napoleon's prediction realised—Major Schill—Hamburg
   threatened and saved—Schill in Lübeck—His death, and destruction
   of his band—Schill imitated by the Duke of Brunswick-Oels—
   Departure of the English from Cuxhaven.

   Demands for troops from some of the small German states—M. Metternich—Russia’s stance on France—Alliance between Austria and Russia—The British return to Spain—Soult crowned King of Portugal, and Murat as the successor to the Emperor—First recruitment of the landwehr in Austria—Agents from the Hamburg 'Correspondent'—Declaration from Prince Charles—Napoleon's advance into Germany—His proclamation—Bernadotte's departure for the army—Napoleon's dislike for Bernadotte—Prince Charles' campaign plan—The British in Cuxhaven—The failure of British plots—Napoleon injured—Napoleon's prediction comes true—Major Schill—Hamburg threatened and saved—Schill in Lübeck—His death and the destruction of his group—Schill copied by the Duke of Brunswick-Oels—Departure of the British from Cuxhaven.







      Bonaparte, the foundations of whose Empire were his sword and his.
      victories, and who was anxiously looking forward to the time when the
      sovereigns of Continental Europe should be his juniors, applied for
      contingents of troops from the States to which I was accredited. The Duchy
      of Mecklenburg-Schwerin was to furnish a regiment of 1800 men, and the
      other little States, such as Oldenburg and Mecklenburg-Strelitz, were to
      furnish regiments of less amount. All Europe was required to rise in arms
      to second the gigantic projects of the new sovereign. This demand for
      contingents, and the positive way in which the Emperor insisted upon them,
      gave rise to an immense correspondence, which, however, was unattended by
      any result. The notes and orders remained in the portfolios, and the
      contingents stayed at home.
    
Bonaparte, whose Empire was built on his military might and victories, eagerly anticipated the day when the leaders of Europe would be younger than him. He requested troop contributions from the States I was assigned to. The Duchy of Mecklenburg-Schwerin was expected to provide a regiment of 1800 men, while smaller states like Oldenburg and Mecklenburg-Strelitz were to contribute smaller regiments. All of Europe was expected to mobilize to support the ambitious plans of the new ruler. This demand for troops, along with the Emperor's firm insistence, led to extensive correspondence, but ultimately, it produced no results. The notes and orders piled up in files, and the troops remained at home.







      M. Metternich, whose talent has since been so conspicuously displayed, had
      been for upwards of a year Ambassador from Austria to Paris. Even then he
      excelled in the art of guiding men's minds, and of turning to the
      advantage of his policy his external graces and the favour he acquired in
      the drawing-room. His father, a clever man, brought up in the old
      diplomatic school of Thugut and Kaunitz, had early accustomed him to the
      task of making other Governments believe, by means of agents, what might
      lead them into error and tend to the advantage of his own Government. His
      manoeuvres tended to make Austria assume a discontented and haughty tone;
      and wishing, as she said, to secure her independence, she publicly
      declared her intention of protecting herself against any enterprise
      similar to those of which she had so often been the victim. This language,
      encouraged by the complete evacuation of Germany, and the war in Spain,
      the unfortunate issue of which was generally foreseen, was used—in
      time of peace between the two empires, and when France was not threatening
      war to Austria.
    
M. Metternich, whose talent has since been so clearly demonstrated, had been the Ambassador from Austria to Paris for over a year. Even then, he was skilled at influencing people's thoughts and using his charm and social connections to benefit his policies. His father, a smart man educated in the traditional diplomatic style of Thugut and Kaunitz, had early on trained him to make other governments believe misleading narratives through agents, which could mislead them and benefit Austria. His strategies aimed to give Austria a disgruntled and proud demeanor; and claiming she wanted to maintain her independence, she publicly stated her intention to protect herself against any actions similar to those that had often victimized her. This rhetoric, fueled by the complete withdrawal from Germany and the war in Spain, whose unfavorable outcome was widely expected, was employed during a time of peace between the two empires, when France was not threatening war against Austria.






 —[Metternich arrived in Paris as Ambassador on 4th August 1806,
   after Austria had been vanquished at Austerlitz. It does not seem
   probable, either from his views or his correspondence, that he
   advised the rash attempt of Austria to attack Napoleon by herself;
   compare Metternich tome 1. p. 69, on the mistake of Prussia in 1805
   and 1806; see also tome ii. p. 221, "To provoke a war with France
   would be madness" (1st July 1808). On the other hand, the tone of
   his correspondence in 1808 seams calculated to make Austria believe
   that war was inevitable, and that her forces, "so inferior to those
   of France before the insurrection in Spain, will at least be equal
   to them immediately after that event" (tome ii. p. 808). What is
   curious is that Metternich's conduct towards Napoleon while
   Ambassador had led even such men as Duke Dalberg to believe that he
   was really so well disposed towards Napoleon as to serve his cause
   more than that of Austria.

 —[Metternich arrived in Paris as Ambassador on August 4, 1806, after Austria was defeated at Austerlitz. It seems unlikely, based on his opinions and correspondence, that he encouraged Austria's reckless decision to attack Napoleon alone; see Metternich tome 1, p. 69, regarding Prussia's mistakes in 1805 and 1806; also refer to tome ii, p. 221, where he stated, "Provoking a war with France would be madness" (July 1, 1808). However, the tone of his correspondence in 1808 appears designed to make Austria think that war was unavoidable and that its forces, "so weaker than those of France before the uprising in Spain, will at least be equal to them right after that event" (tome ii, p. 808). What’s interesting is that Metternich’s behavior towards Napoleon while Ambassador led even prominent figures like Duke Dalberg to believe he was actually more aligned with Napoleon’s interests than with those of Austria.







      M. Metternich, who had instructions from his Court, gave no satisfactory
      explanation of those circumstances to Napoleon, who immediately raised a
      conscription, and brought soldiers from Spain into Germany.
    
M. Metternich, acting on orders from his Court, didn’t provide a clear explanation of those circumstances to Napoleon, who promptly initiated a draft and sent soldiers from Spain into Germany.







      It was necessary, also, to come to an understanding with Russia, who,
      being engaged with her war in Finland and Turkey, appeared desirous
      neither to enter into alliance with Austria nor to afford her support.
      What, in fact, was the Emperor Alexander's situation with respect to
      France? He had signed a treaty of peace at Tilsit which he felt had been
      forced upon him, and he knew that time alone would render it possible for
      him to take part in a contest which it was evident would again be renewed
      either with Prussia or Austria.
    
It was also important to reach an agreement with Russia, which, occupied with its war in Finland and Turkey, seemed unwilling to ally with Austria or provide her support. What was Emperor Alexander’s situation regarding France? He had signed a peace treaty at Tilsit that he believed had been imposed on him, and he realized that only time would allow him to participate in a conflict that was clearly going to be reignited, either with Prussia or Austria.







      Every person of common sense must have perceived that Austria, in taking
      up arms, reckoned, if not on the assistance, at least on the neutrality of
      Russia. Russia was then engaged with two enemies, the Swedes and the
      Turks, over whom she hoped to triumph. She therefore rejoiced to see
      France again engage in a struggle with Austria, and there was no doubt
      that she would take advantage of any chances favourable to the latter
      power to join her in opposing the encroachments of France. I never could
      conceive how, under those circumstances, Napoleon could be so blind as to
      expect assistance from Russia in his quarrel with Austria. He must,
      indeed, have been greatly deceived as to the footing on which the two
      Courts stood with reference to each other—their friendly footing and
      their mutual agreement to oppose the overgrowing ambition of their common
      enemy.
    
Every sensible person must have noticed that Austria, in going to war, expected, if not help, at least neutrality from Russia. At that time, Russia was already dealing with two enemies, the Swedes and the Turks, whom she hoped to defeat. So, she was pleased to see France get involved in a conflict with Austria again, and it was clear she would take any opportunity to support Austria in resisting France's advances. I could never understand how, given those circumstances, Napoleon could be so oblivious as to expect Russia's support in his conflict with Austria. He must have been seriously misled about the relationship between the two courts—their friendly connection and their mutual agreement to counter the rising ambition of their shared enemy.







      The English, who had been compelled to quit Spain, now returned there.
      They landed in Portugal, which might be almost regarded as their own
      colony, and marched against Marshal Soult, who left Spain to meet them.
      Any other man than Soult would perhaps have been embarrassed by the
      obstacles which he had to surmount. A great deal has been said about his
      wish to make himself King of Portugal. Bernadotte told me, when he passed
      through Hamburg, that the matter had been the subject of much conversation
      at headquarters after the battle of Wagram. Bernadotte placed no faith in
      the report, and I am pretty sure that Napoleon also disbelieved it.
      However, this matter is still involved in the obscurity from which it will
      only be drawn when some person acquainted with the intrigue shall give a
      full explanation of it.
    
The English, who had been forced to leave Spain, now returned. They landed in Portugal, which could almost be seen as their own colony, and marched against Marshal Soult, who came from Spain to meet them. Any other person besides Soult might have been intimidated by the challenges he had to face. A lot has been said about his desire to become King of Portugal. Bernadotte told me, when he passed through Hamburg, that this topic had been widely discussed at headquarters after the battle of Wagram. Bernadotte didn’t believe the rumor, and I’m pretty sure Napoleon didn’t believe it either. However, this issue remains shrouded in mystery and will only be clarified when someone familiar with the intrigue provides a complete explanation.







      Since I have, with reference to Soult, touched upon the subject of his
      supposed ambition, I will mention here what I know of Murat's expectation
      of succeeding the Emperor. When Romanzow returned from his useless mission
      of mediation to London the Emperor proceeded to Bayonne. Bernadotte, who
      had an agent in Paris whom he paid highly, told me one day that he had
      received a despatch informing him that Murat entertained the idea of one
      day succeeding the Emperor. Sycophants, expecting to derive advantage from
      it, encouraged Murat in this chimerical hope. I know not whether Napoleon
      was acquainted with this circumstance, nor what he said of it, but
      Bernadotte spoke of it to me as a certain fact. It would, however, have
      been very wrong to attach great importance to an expression which,
      perhaps, escaped Murat in a moment of ardour, for his natural temperament
      sometimes betrayed him into acts of imprudence, the result of which, with
      a man like Napoleon, was always to be dreaded.
    
Since I mentioned Soult and his supposed ambition, I want to talk about what I know regarding Murat's hope of succeeding the Emperor. When Romanzow came back from his pointless mission of mediation in London, the Emperor went to Bayonne. Bernadotte, who had an agent in Paris that he paid well, told me one day that he had received a message saying Murat was considering the idea of one day taking over the Emperor's position. Sycophants, hoping to gain from it, encouraged Murat in this unrealistic hope. I don’t know if Napoleon knew about this situation or what he thought of it, but Bernadotte mentioned it to me as a definite fact. However, it would have been very misguided to place great weight on something Murat might have said in a moment of passion, as his natural temperament sometimes led him into reckless behavior, the consequences of which, with a man like Napoleon, were always to be feared.







      It was in the midst of the operations of the Spanish war, which Napoleon
      directed in person, that he learned Austria had for the first time raised
      the landwehr. I obtained some very curious documents respecting the
      armaments of Austria from the Editor of the Hamburg 'Correspondent'. This
      paper, the circulation of which amounted to not less than 60,000, paid
      considerable sums to persons in different parts of Europe who were able
      and willing to furnish the current news. The Correspondent paid 6000
      francs a year to a clerk in the war department at Vienna, and it was this
      clerk who supplied the intelligence that Austria was preparing for war,
      and that orders had been issued in all directions to collect and put in
      motion all the resources of that powerful monarchy. I communicated these
      particulars to the French Government, and suggested the necessity of
      increased vigilance and measures of defence. Preceding aggressions,
      especially that of 1805, were not to be forgotten. Similar information
      probably reached the French Government from many quarters. Be that as it
      may, the Emperor consigned the military operations in Spain to his
      generals, and departed for Paris, where he arrived at the end of January
      1809. He had been in Spain only since the beginning of November 1808,' and
      his presence there had again rendered our banners victorious. But though
      the insurgent troops were beaten the inhabitants showed themselves more
      and more unfavourable to Joseph's cause; and it did not appear very
      probable that he could ever seat himself tranquilly on the throne of
      Madrid.
    
In the middle of the Spanish war, which Napoleon was personally overseeing, he found out that Austria had mobilized the landwehr for the first time. I obtained some very interesting documents about Austria's military preparations from the editor of the Hamburg 'Correspondent.' This publication, which had a circulation of at least 60,000, paid significant amounts to informants across Europe who could provide current news. The Correspondent paid 6,000 francs a year to a clerk in the war department in Vienna, and it was this clerk who informed us that Austria was gearing up for war, and that orders had gone out in all directions to gather and activate all the resources of that powerful monarchy. I shared this information with the French government and emphasized the need for increased vigilance and defensive measures. Previous attacks, especially that of 1805, should not be forgotten. It's likely that similar intelligence reached the French government from various sources. Regardless, the Emperor entrusted the military operations in Spain to his generals and headed to Paris, where he arrived at the end of January 1809. He had only been in Spain since early November 1808, and his presence there had once again led to victories for our banners. However, even though the insurgent forces were defeated, the local population increasingly opposed Joseph's rule, making it unlikely that he could ever comfortably claim the throne of Madrid.






 —[The successes obtained by Napoleon during his stay of about three
   months in Spain were certainly very great, and mainly resulted from
   his own masterly genius and lightning-like rapidity. The Spanish
   armies, as yet unsupported by British troops, were defeated at
   Gomenal, Espinosa, Reynosa, Tudela, and at the pass of the Somo
   sierra Mountains, and at an early hour of the morning of the 4th
   December Madrid surrendered. On the 20th of December Bonaparte
   marched with far superior forces against the unfortunate Sir John
   Moore, who had been sent to advance into Spain both by the wrong
   route and at a wrong time. On the 29th, from the heights of
   Benevento, his eyes were delighted by seeing the English in full
   retreat. But a blow struck him from another quarter, and leaving
   Soult to follow up Moore he took the road to Paris.]— 
—[The successes achieved by Napoleon during his roughly three-month stay in Spain were certainly impressive and mainly came from his incredible skill and lightning-fast strategy. The Spanish armies, still without support from British troops, were defeated at Gomenal, Espinosa, Reynosa, Tudela, and at the pass of the Somo Sierra Mountains, and by early morning on December 4th, Madrid surrendered. On December 20th, Bonaparte marched with a much larger force against the unfortunate Sir John Moore, who had been sent to advance into Spain at both the wrong time and through the wrong route. On the 29th, from the heights of Benevento, he was pleased to see the English in full retreat. However, he faced a setback from another direction, and after leaving Soult to pursue Moore, he took the road back to Paris.]—







      The Emperor Francis, notwithstanding his counsellors, hesitated about
      taking the first step; but at length, yielding to the solicitations of
      England and the secret intrigues of Russia, and, above all, seduced by the
      subsidies of Great Britain, Austria declared hostilities, not at first
      against France, but against her allies of the Confederation of the Rhine.
      On the 9th of April Prince Charles, who was appointed commander-in-chief
      of the Austrian troops, addressed a note to the commander-in-chief of the
      French army in Bavaria, apprising him of the declaration of war.
    
The Emperor Francis, despite his advisors, was hesitant to take the first step; but eventually, swayed by England's requests and Russia's secret maneuvers, and especially tempted by British financial support, Austria declared war, not initially against France, but against her allies in the Confederation of the Rhine. On April 9th, Prince Charles, who was named commander-in-chief of the Austrian forces, sent a note to the commander-in-chief of the French army in Bavaria, informing him of the declaration of war.







      A courier carried the news of this declaration to Strasburg with the
      utmost expedition, from whence it was transmitted by telegraph to Paris.
      The Emperor, surprised but not disconcerted by this intelligence, received
      it at St. Cloud on the 11th of April, and two hours after he was on the
      road to Germany. The complexity of affairs in which he was then involved
      seemed to give a new impulse to his activity. When he reached the army
      neither his troops nor his Guard had been able to come up, and under those
      circumstances he placed himself at the head of the Bavarian troops, and,
      as it were, adopted the soldiers of Maximilian. Six days after his
      departure from Paris the army of Prince Charles, which had passed the Inn,
      was threatened. The Emperor's headquarters were at Donauwerth, and from
      thence he addressed to his soldiers one of those energetic and concise
      proclamations which made them perform so many prodigies, and which was
      soon circulated in every language by the public journals. This
      complication of events could not but be fatal to Europe and France,
      whatever might be its result, but it presented an opportunity favourable
      to the development of the Emperor's genius. Like his favourite poet
      Ossian, who loved best to touch his lyre midst the howlings of the
      tempest, Napoleon required political tempests for the display of his
      abilities.
    
A courier rushed the news of this declaration to Strasburg, from where it was sent by telegraph to Paris. The Emperor, surprised but not shaken by this news, received it at St. Cloud on April 11th, and two hours later, he was on his way to Germany. The complicated situation he was in seemed to fuel his energy even more. When he arrived at the army, neither his troops nor his Guard had caught up with him, so under those circumstances, he took command of the Bavarian troops and essentially took on the soldiers of Maximilian. Six days after leaving Paris, Prince Charles's army, which had crossed the Inn, was under threat. The Emperor's headquarters were at Donauwerth, where he delivered one of those powerful and brief proclamations that inspired his soldiers to achieve remarkable feats, which was soon shared in every language by the media. This mix of events could only be disastrous for Europe and France, no matter the outcome, but it also provided a chance for the Emperor's talents to shine. Like his favorite poet Ossian, who preferred to play his lyre amidst the storms, Napoleon thrived on political upheaval to showcase his skills.







      During the campaign of 1809, and particularly at its commencement,
      Napoleon's course was even more rapid than it had been in the campaign of
      1805. Every courier who arrived at Hamburg brought us news, or rather
      prodigies. As soon as the Emperor was informed of the attack made by the
      Austrians upon Bavaria orders were despatched to all the generals having
      troops under their command to proceed with all speed to the theatre of the
      war. The Prince of Ponte-Corvo was summoned to join the Grand Army with
      the Saxon troops under his command and for the time he resigned the
      government of the Hanse Towns. Colonel Damas succeeded him at Hamburg
      during that period, but merely as commandant of the fortress; and he never
      gave rise to any murmur or complaint. Bernadotte was not satisfied with
      his situation, and indeed the Emperor, who was never much disposed to
      bring him forward, because he could not forgive him for his opposition on
      the 18th Brumaire, always appointed him to posts in which but little glory
      was to be acquired, and placed as few troops as possible under his
      command.
    
During the campaign of 1809, especially at the start, Napoleon's movements were even quicker than in the 1805 campaign. Every courier arriving in Hamburg brought us news, or rather, extraordinary reports. As soon as the Emperor learned about the Austrians attacking Bavaria, he ordered all the generals with troops to quickly head to the war front. The Prince of Ponte-Corvo was called to join the Grand Army with the Saxon troops he commanded, temporarily stepping down from governing the Hanse Towns. Colonel Damas took over in Hamburg during this time, but just as the fortress commandant; he never sparked any complaints. Bernadotte was unhappy with his position, and the Emperor, who had never been inclined to promote him due to his opposition on the 18th Brumaire, often assigned him to roles where little glory could be gained, and put as few troops as possible under his command.







      It required all the promptitude of the Emperor's march upon Vienna to
      defeat the plots which were brewing against his government, for in the
      event of his arms being unsuccessful, the blow was ready to be struck. The
      English force in the north of Germany amounted to about 10,000 men: The
      Archduke Charles had formed the project of concentrating in the middle of
      Germany a large body of troops, consisting of the corps of General Am
      Eude, of General Radizwowitz, and of the English, with whom were to be
      joined the people who were expected to revolt. The English would have
      wished the Austrian troops to advance a little farther. The English agent
      made some representations on this subject to Stadion, the Austrian
      Minister; but the Archduke preferred making a diversion to committing the
      safety of the monarchy by departing from his present inactivity and
      risking the passage of the Danube, in the face of an enemy who never
      suffered himself to be surprised, and who had calculated every possible
      event: In concerting his plan the Archduke expected that the Czar would
      either detach a strong force to assist his allies, or that he would
      abandon them to their own defence. In the first case the Archduke would
      have had a great superiority, and in the second, all was prepared in Hesse
      and in Hanover to rise on the approach of the Austrian and English armies.
    
It took all the urgency of the Emperor's march on Vienna to stop the plots forming against his government, because if his military efforts failed, the attack was ready to launch. The English force in northern Germany was about 10,000 men. The Archduke Charles had planned to gather a large number of troops in central Germany, including the corps of General Am Eude, General Radizwowitz, and the English, along with those expected to rebel. The English wanted the Austrian troops to move a little further. The English agent communicated this to Stadion, the Austrian Minister, but the Archduke preferred to create a diversion rather than risking the safety of the monarchy by changing his current inactivity and attempting to cross the Danube against an enemy who was always prepared and had anticipated every possible scenario. In planning his strategy, the Archduke expected that the Czar would either send a strong force to help his allies or leave them to defend themselves. If the first happened, the Archduke would have had a significant advantage, and if the second occurred, everything was ready in Hesse and Hanover to rise up when the Austrian and English armies approached.







      At the commencement of July the English advanced upon Cuxhaven with a
      dozen small ships of war. They landed 400 or 600 sailors and about 50
      marines, and planted a standard on one of the outworks. The day after this
      landing at Cuxhaven the English, who were in Denmark evacuated Copenhagen,
      after destroying a battery which they had erected there. All the schemes
      of England were fruitless on the Continent, for with the Emperor's new
      system of war, which consisted in making a push on the capitals, he soon
      obtained negotiations for peace. He was master of Vienna before England
      had even organised the expedition to which I have just alluded. He left
      Paris on the 11th of April, was at Donauwerth on the 17th, and on the 23d
      he was master of Ratisbon. In the engagement which preceded his entrance
      into that town Napoleon received a slight wound in the heel. He
      nevertheless remained on the field of battle. It was also between
      Donauwerth and Ratisbon that Davoust, by a bold manoeuvre, gained and
      merited the title of Prince of Eckmuhl.
    
At the beginning of July, the English advanced on Cuxhaven with a dozen small warships. They landed 400 to 600 sailors and about 50 marines, and raised a flag on one of the fortifications. The day after this landing at Cuxhaven, the English, who were in Denmark, evacuated Copenhagen after destroying a battery they had set up there. All of England's plans on the Continent were unsuccessful, as the Emperor's new war strategy focused on targeting capitals, which quickly led to peace negotiations. He captured Vienna before England had even organized the expedition I just mentioned. He left Paris on April 11, was at Donauwerth by the 17th, and by the 23rd, he had taken control of Ratisbon. In the battle before entering that town, Napoleon sustained a minor wound to his heel. However, he stayed on the battlefield. It was also in the area between Donauwerth and Ratisbon that Davoust, through a daring maneuver, earned the title of Prince of Eckmuhl.






 —[The great battle of Eckmuhl, where 100,000 Austrians were driven
   from all their positions, was fought on the 22d of April.-Editor of
   1836 edition.]— 
 —[The major battle of Eckmühl, where 100,000 Austrians were pushed from all their positions, took place on April 22nd. -Editor of 1836 edition.]—







      At this period fortune was not only bent on favouring Napoleon's arms, but
      she seemed to take pleasure in realising even his boasting predictions;
      for the French troops entered Vienna within a month after a proclamation
      issued by Napoleon at Ratisbon, in which he said he would be master of the
      Austrian capital in that time.
    
At this time, luck was not only on Napoleon's side, but it seemed to enjoy making his bold predictions come true; the French troops entered Vienna just a month after Napoleon announced in Ratisbon that he would take control of the Austrian capital within that timeframe.







      But while he was thus marching from triumph to triumph the people of
      Hamburg and the neighbouring countries had a neighbour who did not leave
      them altogether without inquietude. The famous Prussian partisan, Major
      Schill, after pursuing his system of plunder in Westphalia, came and threw
      himself into Mecklenburg, whence, I understood, it was his intention to
      surprise Hamburg. At the head of 600 well-mounted hussars and between 1500
      and 2000 infantry badly armed, he took possession of the little fort of
      Domitz, in Mecklenburg, on the 15th of May, from whence he despatched
      parties who levied contributions on both banks of the Elbe. Schill
      inspired terror wherever he went. On the 19th of May a detachment of 30
      men belonging to Schill's corps entered Wismar. It was commanded by Count
      Moleke, who had formerly been in the Prussian service, and who had retired
      to his estate in Mecklenburg, where the Duke had kindly given him an
      appointment. Forgetting his duty to his benefactor, he sent to summon the
      Duke to surrender Stralsund.
    
But while he was marching from victory to victory, the people of Hamburg and the surrounding areas had a neighbor who kept them on edge. The famous Prussian partisan, Major Schill, after continuing his plundering in Westphalia, moved into Mecklenburg, where I heard he intended to surprise Hamburg. Leading 600 well-mounted hussars and between 1,500 and 2,000 poorly armed infantry, he took control of the small fort of Domitz in Mecklenburg on May 15th, from where he sent out groups to collect contributions from both sides of the Elbe. Schill inspired fear wherever he went. On May 19th, a detachment of 30 men from Schill's force entered Wismar. It was led by Count Moleke, who had previously served in the Prussian military and had retired to his estate in Mecklenburg, where the Duke had graciously given him a position. Disregarding his duty to his benefactor, he sent a message demanding that the Duke surrender Stralsund.







      Alarmed at the progress of the partisan Schill, the Duke of Mecklenburg
      and his Court quitted Ludwigsburg, their regular residence, and retired to
      Doberan, on the seacoast. On quitting Mecklenburg Schill advanced to
      Bergdorf, four leagues from Hamburg. The alarm then increased in that
      city. A few of the inhabitants talked of making a compromise with Schill
      and sending him money to get him away. But the firmness of the majority
      imposed silence on this timid council. I consulted with the commandant of
      the town, and we determined to adopt measures of precaution. The
      custom-house chest, in which there was more than a million of gold, was
      sent to Holstein under a strong escort. At the same time I sent to Schill
      a clever spy, who gave him a most alarming account of the means of defence
      which Hamburg possessed. Schill accordingly gave up his designs on that
      city, and leaving it on his left, entered Lübeck, which was undefended.
    
Alarmed by the advances of the partisan Schill, the Duke of Mecklenburg and his Court left their usual residence in Ludwigsburg and retreated to Doberan on the coast. After leaving Mecklenburg, Schill moved to Bergdorf, which is about four leagues from Hamburg. This caused even more panic in the city. Some residents suggested compromising with Schill and sending him money to make him leave. However, the resolve of the majority silenced this hesitant group. I consulted with the town's commandant, and we decided to take precautionary measures. The customs house chest, containing over a million in gold, was sent to Holstein under heavy guard. At the same time, I sent a skilled spy to Schill, who provided him with a very alarming report about Hamburg's defensive capabilities. As a result, Schill abandoned his plans for the city and, leaving it behind, moved on to Lübeck, which was unprotected.







      Meanwhile Lieutenant-General Gratien, who had left Berlin by order of the
      Prince de Neufchatel, with 2500 Dutch and 3000 Swedish troops, actively
      pursued Schill, and tranquillity was soon restored throughout all the
      neighbouring country, which had been greatly agitated by his bold
      enterprise. Schill, after wandering for some days on the shores of the
      Baltic, was overtaken by General Gratien at Stralsund, whence he was about
      to embark for Sweden. He made a desperate defence, and was killed after a
      conflict of two hours. His band was destroyed. Three hundred of his
      hussars and 200 infantry, who had effected their escape, asked leave to
      return to Prussia, and they were conducted to the Prussian general
      commanding a neighbouring town. A war of plunder like that carried on by
      Schill could not be honourably acknowledged by a power having, any claim
      to respect. Yet the English Government sent Schill a colonel's commission,
      and the full uniform of his new rank, with the assurance that all his
      troops should thenceforth be paid by England.
    
Meanwhile, Lieutenant-General Gratien, who had left Berlin on orders from the Prince de Neufchatel, with 2,500 Dutch and 3,000 Swedish troops, actively pursued Schill, and calm was quickly restored throughout the surrounding areas, which had been greatly disturbed by his daring actions. After wandering for several days along the shores of the Baltic, Schill was caught by General Gratien at Stralsund, just as he was about to board a ship for Sweden. He put up a fierce fight but was killed after two hours of conflict. His group was wiped out. Three hundred of his hussars and 200 infantry, who managed to escape, requested permission to return to Prussia, and they were escorted to the Prussian general in charge of a nearby town. A plundering war like the one Schill led could not be respectfully endorsed by any power that values honor. Still, the English Government sent Schill a colonel's commission and the full uniform of his new rank, assuring him that from then on, all his troops would be funded by England.







      Schill soon had an imitator of exalted rank. In August 1809 the Duke of
      Brunswick-OEls sought the dangerous honour of succeeding that famous
      partisan. At the head of at most 2000 men he for some days disturbed the
      left bank of the Elbe, and on the 5th entered Bremen. On his approach the
      French Vice-Consul retired to Osterhulz. One of the Duke's officers
      presented himself at the hones of the Vice-Consul and demanded 200 Louis.
      The agent of the Vice-Consul, alarmed at the threat of the place being
      given up to pillage, capitulated with the officer, and with considerable
      difficulty got rid of him at the sacrifice of 80 Louis, for which a
      receipt was presented to him in the name of the Duke. The Duke, who now
      went by the name of "the new Schill," did not remain long in Bremen.
    
Schill soon had a high-ranking imitator. In August 1809, the Duke of Brunswick-Oels sought the risky honor of succeeding that famous partisan. Leading at most 2,000 men, he disrupted the left bank of the Elbe for a few days and entered Bremen on the 5th. When he approached, the French Vice-Consul retreated to Osterhulz. One of the Duke's officers went to the Vice-Consul's residence and demanded 200 Louis. The Vice-Consul's agent, fearing the threat of looting, negotiated with the officer and managed to send him away after giving up 80 Louis, for which he received a receipt in the Duke’s name. The Duke, now known as "the new Schill," didn't stay in Bremen for long.







      Wishing to repair with all possible speed to Holland he left Bremen on the
      evening of the 6th, and proceeded to Dehnenhorst, where his advanced guard
      had already arrived. The Westphalian troops, commanded by Rewbell, entered
      Bremen on the 7th, and not finding the Duke of Brunswick, immediately
      marched in pursuit of him. The Danish troops, who occupied Cuxhaven,
      received orders to proceed to Bremerlehe, to favour the operations of the
      Westphalians and the Dutch. Meanwhile the English approached Cuxhaven,
      where they landed 3000 or 4000 men. The persons in charge of the
      custom-house establishment, and the few sailors who were in Cuxhaven, fell
      back upon Hamburg. The Duke of Brunswick, still pursued crossed Germany
      from the frontiers of Bohemia to Elsfleth, a little port on the left bank
      of the Weser, where he arrived on the 7th, being one day in advance of his
      pursuers. He immediately took possession of all the transports at
      Elsfleth, and embarked for Heligoland.
    
Wanting to get to Holland as quickly as possible, he left Bremen on the evening of the 6th and headed to Dehnenhorst, where his advance guard had already arrived. The Westphalian troops, led by Rewbell, entered Bremen on the 7th but not finding the Duke of Brunswick, immediately set out to chase him down. The Danish troops stationed in Cuxhaven were ordered to move to Bremerlehe to support the operations of the Westphalians and the Dutch. Meanwhile, the English approached Cuxhaven, where they landed 3,000 to 4,000 men. Those in charge of the customs office, along with the few sailors in Cuxhaven, retreated to Hamburg. The Duke of Brunswick, still being pursued, crossed Germany from the Bohemian border to Elsfleth, a small port on the left bank of the Weser, where he arrived on the 7th, a day ahead of his pursuers. He immediately took control of all the transports at Elsfleth and set sail for Heligoland.







      The landing which the English effected at Cuxhaven while the Danes, who
      garrisoned that port, were occupied in pursuing the Duke of Brunswick, was
      attended by no result. After the escape of the Duke the Danes returned to
      their post which the English immediately evacuated.
    
The landing that the English made at Cuxhaven while the Danes, who were stationed at that port, were busy chasing the Duke of Brunswick, didn’t lead to anything meaningful. After the Duke escaped, the Danes went back to their position, and the English quickly pulled out.








 


 




















      CHAPTER XIX.
    



      1809.
    
1809.


   The castle of Diernstein—Richard Coeur de Lion and Marshal Lannes,
   —The Emperor at the gates of Vienna—The Archduchess Maria Louisa—
   Facility of correspondence with England—Smuggling in Hamburg—Brown
   sugar and sand—Hearses filled with sugar and coffee—Embargo on the
   publication of news—Supervision of the 'Hamburg Correspondant'—
   Festival of Saint Napoleon—Ecclesiastical adulation—The King of
   Westphalia's journey through his States—Attempt to raise a loan—
   Jerome's present to me—The present returned—Bonaparte's unfounded
   suspicions.

   The castle of Diernstein—Richard the Lionheart and Marshal Lannes,  
   —The Emperor at the gates of Vienna—The Archduchess Maria Louisa—  
   Ease of communication with England—Smuggling in Hamburg—Brown  
   sugar and sand—Hearses filled with sugar and coffee—Ban on  
   publishing news—Oversight of the 'Hamburg Correspondant'—  
   Festival of Saint Napoleon—Religious praise—The King of  
   Westphalia's trip through his States—Attempt to secure a loan—  
   Jerome's gift to me—The gift returned—Bonaparte's baseless  
   suspicions.







      Rapp, who during the campaign of Vienna had resumed his duties as aide de
      camp, related to me one of those observations of Napoleon which, when his
      words are compared with the events that followed them, seem to indicate a
      foresight into his future destiny. When within some days' march of Vienna
      the Emperor procured a guide to explain to him every village and ruin
      which he observed on the road. The guide pointed to an eminence on which
      were a few decayed vestiges of an old fortified castle. "Those," said the
      guide, "are the ruins of the castle of Diernstein." Napoleon suddenly
      stopped, and stood for some time silently contemplating the ruins, then
      turning to Lannes, who was with him, he raid, "See! yonder is the prison
      of Richard Coeur de Lion. He, like us, went to Syria and Palestine. But,
      my brave Lannes, the Coeur de Lion was not braver than you. He was more
      fortunate than I at St. Jean d'Acre. A Duke of Austria sold him to an
      Emperor of Germany, who imprisoned him in that castle. Those were the days
      of barbarism. How different from the civilisation of modern times! Europe
      has seen how I treated the Emperor of Austria, whom I might have made
      prisoner—and I would treat him so again. I claim no credit for this.
      In the present age crowned heads must be respected. A conqueror
      imprisoned!"
    
Rapp, who had resumed his role as aide-de-camp during the Vienna campaign, shared with me one of Napoleon's observations that, when compared to the subsequent events, seems to show that he had insight into his future. When they were just a few days' march from Vienna, the Emperor got a guide to explain every village and ruin they passed. The guide pointed to a rise that held the decaying remains of an old fortified castle. "Those," said the guide, "are the ruins of the castle of Diernstein." Napoleon suddenly stopped and stood in silence for a while, contemplating the ruins. Then he turned to Lannes, who was with him, and said, "Look! Over there is the prison of Richard the Lionheart. He, like us, went to Syria and Palestine. But, my brave Lannes, the Lionheart was not braver than you. He was luckier than I at St. Jean d'Acre. A Duke of Austria sold him to a German Emperor, who locked him up in that castle. Those were barbaric times. How different from the civilization of today! Europe has seen how I treated the Emperor of Austria, whom I could have captured—and I would do the same again. I don’t take any credit for this. In this day and age, crowned heads must be respected. A conquering leader imprisoned!"







      A few days after the Emperor was at the gates of Vienna, but on this
      occasion his access to the Austrian capital was not so easy as it had been
      rendered in 1805 by the ingenuity and courage of Lannes and Murat. The
      Archduke Maximilian, who was shut up in the capital, wished to defend it,
      although the French army already occupied the principal suburbs. In vain
      were flags of truce sent one after the other to the Archduke. They were
      not only dismissed unheard, but were even ill-treated, and one of them was
      almost killed by the populace. The city was then bombarded, and would
      speedily have been destroyed but that the Emperor, being informed that one
      of the Archduchesses remained in Vienna on account of ill-health, ordered
      the firing to cease. By a singular caprice of Napoleon's destiny this
      Archduchess was no other than Maria Louisa. Vienna at length opened her
      gates to Napoleon, who for some days took up his residence at Schoenbrunn.
    
A few days after the Emperor reached the gates of Vienna, gaining access to the Austrian capital was not as straightforward as it had been in 1805, thanks to the cleverness and bravery of Lannes and Murat. The Archduke Maximilian, who was trapped in the capital, wanted to defend it, even though the French army already controlled the main suburbs. Flags of truce were sent repeatedly to the Archduke, but they were ignored and even mistreated, with one envoy nearly killed by the crowd. The city was then bombarded and would have been quickly destroyed if the Emperor hadn't been informed that one of the Archduchesses was still in Vienna due to poor health, prompting him to order the cessation of fire. In a strange twist of fate, this Archduchess was none other than Maria Louisa. Eventually, Vienna opened its gates to Napoleon, who stayed for a few days at Schönbrunn.







      The Emperor was engaged in so many projects at once that they could not
      all succeed. Thus, while he was triumphant in the Hereditary States his
      Continental system was experiencing severe checks. The trade with England
      on the coast of Oldenburg was carped on as uninterruptedly as if in time
      of peace. English letters and newspapers arrived on the Continent, and
      those of the Continent found their way into Great Britain, as if France
      and England had been united by ties of the firmest friendship. In short,
      things were just in the same state as if the decree for the blockade of
      the British Isles had not existed. When the custom-house officers
      succeeded in seizing contraband goods they were again taken from them by
      main force. On the 2d of July a serious contest took place at Brinskham
      between the custom-house officers and a party of peasantry, in which the
      latter remained masters of eighteen wagons laden with English goods: many
      were wounded on both sides.
    
The Emperor was involved in so many projects at once that not all of them could succeed. While he was successful in the Hereditary States, his Continental system was facing major setbacks. Trade with England along the coast of Oldenburg continued without interruption, as if there were peace. English letters and newspapers made their way to the Continent, and those from the Continent reached Great Britain, as if France and England were the closest of friends. In short, the situation was just as if the decree for the blockade of the British Isles had never existed. When customs officers managed to confiscate illegal goods, they were forcefully taken back. On July 2nd, a serious clash occurred at Brinskham between customs officers and a group of local peasants, in which the peasants ended up with eighteen wagons full of English goods: many were wounded on both sides.







      If, however, trade with England was carried on freely along a vast extent
      of coast, it was different in the city of Hamburg, where English goods
      were introduced only by fraud; and I verily believe that the art of
      smuggling and the schemes of smugglers were never before carried to such
      perfection. Above 6000 persons of the lower orders went backwards and
      forwards, about twenty times a day, from Altona to Hamburg, and they
      carried on their contraband, trade by many ingenious stratagems, two of
      which were so curious that they are worth mentioning here.
    
If trade with England was happening freely along a large stretch of coast, things were different in the city of Hamburg, where English goods were brought in only through deceit; and I truly believe that the art of smuggling and the tactics of smugglers had never before reached such a high level of sophistication. Over 6,000 people from the lower classes traveled back and forth, about twenty times a day, from Altona to Hamburg, engaging in their illegal trade through many clever tricks, two of which were so fascinating that they deserve to be mentioned here.







      On the left of the road leading from Hamburg to Altona there was a piece
      of ground where pits were dug for the purpose of procuring sand used for
      building and for laying down in the streets. At this time it was proposed
      to repair the great street of Hamburg leading to the gate of Altona. The
      smugglers overnight filled the sandpit with brown sugar, and the little
      carts which usually conveyed the sand into Hamburg were filled with the
      sugar, care being taken to cover it with a layer of sand about an inch
      thick. This trick was carried on for a length of time, but no progress was
      made in repairing the street. I complained greatly of the delay, even
      before I was aware of its cause, for the street led to a country-house I
      had near Altona, whither I went daily. The officers of the customs at
      length perceived that the work did not proceed, and one fine morning the
      sugar-carts were stopped and seized. Another expedient was then to be
      devised.
    
On the left side of the road from Hamburg to Altona, there was a plot of land where they dug pits to get sand for construction and for paving the streets. At that time, they planned to repair the main street of Hamburg that goes to the Altona gate. Overnight, the smugglers filled the sandpit with brown sugar, and the small carts that usually delivered the sand to Hamburg were filled with sugar, carefully covered with a layer of sand about an inch thick. This trick went on for quite a while, but there was no progress on fixing the street. I complained a lot about the delay, even before I knew what the reason was, since the street led to my country house near Altona, where I went every day. Eventually, the customs officers noticed that the work wasn’t moving forward, and one beautiful morning, they stopped and confiscated the sugar carts. Another plan had to be figured out.







      Between Hamburg and Altona there was a little suburb situated on the right
      bank of the Elbe. This suburb was inhabited, by sailors, labourers of the
      port, and landowners. The inhabitants were interred in the cemetery of
      Hamburg. It was observed that funeral processions passed this way more
      frequently than usual. The customhouse officers, amazed at the sudden
      mortality of the worthy inhabitants of the little suburb, insisted on
      searching one of the vehicles, and on opening the hearse it was found to
      be filled with sugar, coffee, vanilla, indigo, etc. It was necessary to
      abandon this expedient, but others were soon discovered.
    
Between Hamburg and Altona, there was a small suburb located on the right bank of the Elbe. This suburb was home to sailors, dockworkers, and landowners. The locals were buried in the cemetery of Hamburg. It was noticed that funeral processions went by this area more often than usual. The customs officers, surprised by the sudden deaths of the respectable people from the small suburb, insisted on inspecting one of the vehicles, and upon opening the hearse, it was found to be packed with sugar, coffee, vanilla, indigo, and more. This tactic had to be abandoned, but other methods were quickly discovered.







      Bonaparte was sensitive, in an extraordinary degree, to all that was said
      and thought of him, and Heaven knows how many despatches I received from
      headquarters during the campaign of Vienna directing me not only to watch
      the vigilant execution of the custom-house laws, but to lay an embargo on
      a thing which alarmed him more than the introduction of British
      merchandise, viz. the publication of news. In conformity with these
      reiterated instructions I directed especial attention to the management of
      the 'Correspondant'. The importance of this journal, with its 60,000
      readers, may easily be perceived. I procured the insertion of everything I
      thought desirable: all the bulletins, proclamations, acts of the French
      Government, notes of the 'Moniteur', and the semi-official articles of the
      French journals: these were all given 'in extenso'. On the other hand, I
      often suppressed adverse news, which, though well known, would have
      received additional weight from its insertion in so widely circulated a
      paper. If by chance there crept in some Austrian bulletin, extracted from
      the other German papers published in the States of the Confederation of
      the Rhine, there was always given with it a suitable antidote to destroy,
      or at least to mitigate, its ill effect. But this was not all. The King of
      Wurtemberg having reproached the 'Correspondant', in a letter to the
      Minister for Foreign Affairs, with publishing whatever Austria wished
      should be made known, and being conducted in a spirit hostile to the good
      cause, I answered these unjust reproaches by making the Syndic censor
      prohibit the Hamburg papers from inserting any Austrian order of the day,
      any Archduke's bulletins, any letter from Prague; in short, anything which
      should be copied from the other German journals unless those articles had
      been inserted in the French journals.
    
Bonaparte was extremely sensitive to everything that was said and thought about him, and it's hard to say how many messages I got from headquarters during the Vienna campaign instructing me not only to ensure strict enforcement of the customs laws but also to impose a ban on something that worried him even more than British goods: the publication of news. Following these repeated instructions, I paid special attention to the management of the 'Correspondant.' The significance of this journal, with its 60,000 readers, is clear. I made sure to include everything I thought necessary: all the bulletins, proclamations, acts of the French Government, notes from the 'Moniteur,' and the semi-official articles in the French press: all were published in full. On the flip side, I often held back negative news, which, although widely known, would have carried more weight if published in such a widely circulated paper. If by chance an Austrian bulletin slipped in, taken from other German papers published in the States of the Confederation of the Rhine, I always paired it with an appropriate response to counteract, or at least lessen, its negative impact. But that wasn’t all. The King of Wurtemberg had criticized the 'Correspondant' in a letter to the Minister for Foreign Affairs for publishing whatever Austria wanted to be known and for having a tone hostile to the good cause. I responded to these unfair accusations by directing the Syndic censor to prohibit Hamburg papers from publishing any Austrian orders of the day, any bulletins from the Archduke, any letters from Prague; in short, anything copied from other German journals unless those articles had already appeared in the French press.







      My recollections of the year 1809 at Hamburg carry me back to the
      celebration of Napoleon's fete, which was on the 15th of August, for he
      had interpolated his patron saint in the Imperial calendar at the date of
      his birth. The coincidence of this festival with the Assumption gave rise
      to adulatory rodomontades of the most absurd description. Certainly the
      Episcopal circulars under the Empire would form a curious collection.
    
My memories of the year 1809 in Hamburg take me back to the celebration of Napoleon's festival, which was on August 15th, as he had added his patron saint to the Imperial calendar on his birthday. The overlap of this celebration with the Assumption led to some ridiculously flattering boasts. The Episcopal circulars from the Empire would definitely make for an interesting collection.






 —[It will perhaps scarcely be believed that the following words
   were actually delivered from the pulpit: "God in his mercy has
   chosen Napoleon to be his representative on earth. The Queen of
   Heaven has marked, by the most magnificent of presents, the
   anniversary of the day which witnessed his glorious entrance into
   her domains. Heavenly Virgin! as a special testimony of your love
   for the French, and your all-powerful influence with your son, you
   have connected the first of your solemnities with the birth of the
   great Napoleon. Heaven ordained that the hero should spring from
   your sepulchre."—Bourrienne.]— 
 —[It might be hard to believe that the following words were actually spoken from the pulpit: "In his mercy, God has chosen Napoleon to be his representative on earth. The Queen of Heaven has celebrated, with the most magnificent gifts, the anniversary of the day that marked his glorious entry into her domain. Heavenly Virgin! As a special sign of your love for the French and your incredible influence with your son, you have linked your most important feast with the birth of the great Napoleon. Heaven ordained that the hero should come from your tomb."—Bourrienne.]—







      Could anything be more revolting than the sycophancy of those Churchmen
      who declared that "God chose Napoleon for his representative upon earth,
      and that God created Bonaparte, and then rested; that he was more
      fortunate than Augustus, more virtuous than Trajan; that he deserved
      altars and temples to be raised to him!" etc.
    
Could anything be more disgusting than the fawning of those church leaders who claimed that "God chose Napoleon as His representative on earth, and that God created Bonaparte, and then took a break; that he was luckier than Augustus, more virtuous than Trajan; that he deserved altars and temples to be built in his honor!" etc.







      Some time after the Festival of St. Napoleon the King of Westphalia made a
      journey through his States. Of all Napoleon's brothers the King of
      Westphalia was the one with whom I was least acquainted, and he, it is
      pretty well known, was the most worthless of the family. His
      correspondence with me is limited to two letters, one of which he wrote
      while he commanded the 'Epervier', and another seven years after, dated
      6th September 1809. In this latter he said:
    
Some time after the Festival of St. Napoleon, the King of Westphalia traveled through his territories. Out of all of Napoleon's brothers, the King of Westphalia was the one I knew the least, and it’s pretty well known that he was the most useless of the family. Our correspondence consists of just two letters—one he wrote while he was in command of the 'Epervier,' and the other dated September 6, 1809, which he sent seven years later. In this latter letter, he said:






   "I shall be in Hannover on the 10th. If you can make it convenient
   to come there and spend a day with me it will give me great
   pleasure. I shall then be able to smooth all obstacles to the loan
   I wish to contract in the Hanse Town. I flatter myself you will do
   all in your power to forward that object, which at the present
   crisis is very important to my States. More than ample security is
   offered, but the money will be of no use to me if I cannot have it
   at least for two years."

   "I'm going to be in Hannover on the 10th. If you can make it over to spend a day with me, I would really appreciate it. I will then be able to clear up any issues related to the loan I want to take out in the Hanse Town. I believe you'll do everything you can to help with this, which is very important for my States right now. There’s more than enough security offered, but the money won’t be useful to me if I can’t have it for at least two years."







      Jerome wanted to contract at Hamburg a loan of 3,000,000 francs. However,
      the people did not seem to think like his Westphalian Majesty, that the
      contract presented more than ample security. No one was found willing to
      draw his purse-strings, and the loan was never raised.
    
Jerome wanted to secure a loan of 3,000,000 francs in Hamburg. However, the locals didn't seem to agree with his Westphalian Majesty that the contract provided sufficient security. No one was willing to open their wallets, and the loan was never obtained.







      Though I would not, without the Emperor's authority, exert the influence
      of my situation to further the success of Jerome's negotiation, yet I did
      my best to assist him. I succeeded in prevailing on the Senate to advance
      one loan of 100,000 francs to pay a portion of the arrears due to his
      troops, and a second of 200,000 francs to provide clothing for his army,
      etc. This scanty supply will cease to be wondered at when it is considered
      to what a state of desolation the whole of Germany was reduced at the
      time, as much in the allied States as in those of the enemies of France. I
      learnt at the time that the King of Bavaria said to an officer of the
      Emperor's household in whom he had great confidence, "If this continues we
      shall have to give up, and put the key under the door." These were his
      very words.
    
Though I wouldn't use my position to push Jerome's negotiation without the Emperor's approval, I did my best to help him. I managed to convince the Senate to approve one loan of 100,000 francs to pay part of the back wages owed to his troops, and a second loan of 200,000 francs to buy clothing for his army, among other things. This limited support won’t seem surprising when you consider how devastated all of Germany was at that time, in both the allied States and those against France. I learned that the King of Bavaria told a trusted officer of the Emperor's household, "If this keeps up, we'll have to give up and put the key under the door." Those were his exact words.







      As for Jerome, he returned to Cassel quite disheartened at the
      unsuccessful issue of his loan. Some days after his return to his capital
      I received from him a snuffbox with his portrait set in diamonds,
      accompanied by a letter of thanks for the service I had rendered him. I
      never imagined that a token of remembrance from a crowned head could
      possibly be declined. Napoleon, however, thought otherwise. I had not, it
      is true, written to acquaint our Government with the King of Westphalia's
      loan, but in a letter, which I addressed to the Minister for Foreign
      Affairs on the 22d of September, I mentioned the present Jerome had sent
      me. Why Napoleon should have been offended at this I know not, but I
      received orders to return Jerome's present immediately, and these orders
      were accompanied with bitter reproaches for my having accepted it without
      the Emperor's authority. I sent back the diamonds, but kept the portrait.
      Knowing Bonaparte's distrustful disposition, I thought he must have
      suspected that Jerome had employed threats, or at any rate, that he had
      used some illegal influence to facilitate the success of his loan. At
      last, after much correspondence, Napoleon saw clearly that everything was
      perfectly regular; in a word, that the business had been transacted as
      between two private persons. As to the 300,000 francs which the Senate had
      lent to Jerome, the fact is, that but little scruple was made about it,
      for this simple reason, that it was the means of removing from Hamburg the
      Westphalian division, whose presence occasioned a much greater expense
      than the loan.
    
Jerome returned to Cassel feeling pretty down about the failed outcome of his loan. A few days after he got back to his capital, I received a snuffbox with his portrait in diamonds, along with a thank-you letter for the help I had given him. I never thought a gift from a king could be turned down. However, Napoleon had a different opinion. It's true I hadn't informed our Government about the King of Westphalia's loan, but in a letter I sent to the Minister for Foreign Affairs on September 22nd, I mentioned the gift Jerome had given me. I don't know why this upset Napoleon, but I received orders to return Jerome's gift immediately, along with harsh criticism for accepting it without the Emperor's permission. I sent back the diamonds but kept the portrait. Knowing Bonaparte's suspicious nature, I figured he must have thought Jerome had used threats or some kind of illegal influence to push his loan through. Eventually, after a lot of back-and-forth communication, Napoleon realized everything was completely legitimate; in other words, the whole deal was carried out like a transaction between two private individuals. Regarding the 300,000 francs that the Senate lent to Jerome, there wasn’t much hesitation about it, primarily because it helped remove the Westphalian division from Hamburg, which was costing a lot more than the loan.








 


 




















      CHAPTER XX.
    



      1809.
    
1809.


   Visit to the field of Wagram.—Marshal Macdonald—Union of the Papal
   States with the Empire—The battle of Talavera—Sir Arthur
   Wellesley—English expedition to Holland—Attempt to assassinate the
   Emperor at Schoenbrunn—Staps Interrogated by Napoleon—Pardon
   offered and rejected—Fanaticism and patriotism—Corvisart's
   examination of Staps—Second interrogatory—Tirade against the
   illuminati—Accusation of the Courts of Berlin and Weimar—Firmness
   and resignation of Staps—Particulars respecting his death—
   Influence of the attempt of Staps on the conclusion of peace—
   M. de Champagny.

Visit to the Wagram battlefield.—Marshal Macdonald—Union of the Papal States with the Empire—The battle of Talavera—Sir Arthur Wellesley—British expedition to Holland—Attempt to assassinate the Emperor at Schoenbrunn—Staps questioned by Napoleon—Pardon offered and declined—Fanaticism and patriotism—Corvisart's examination of Staps—Second questioning—Outburst against the illuminati—Accusation of the courts in Berlin and Weimar—Steadfastness and acceptance of Staps—Details regarding his death—Impact of Staps' attempt on the peace agreement—M. de Champagny.







      Napoleon went to inspect all the corps of his army and the field of
      Wagram, which a short time before had been the scene of one of those great
      battles in which victory was the more glorious in proportion as it had
      been valiantly contested.
    
Napoleon went to check out all the units of his army and the Wagram battlefield, which not long ago had been the site of one of those major battles where victory felt even more glorious because it had been fought so fiercely.






 —[The great battle of Wagram was fought on the 6th of July 1809.
   The Austrians, who committed a mistake in over-extending their line,
   lost 20,000 men as prisoners, besides a large number in killed and
   wounded. There was no day, perhaps, on which Napoleon showed more
   military genius or more personal courage. He was in the hottest of
   the fight, and for a long time exposed to showers of grapeshot.—
   Editor of 1836 edition.]— 
—[The big battle of Wagram took place on July 6, 1809. The Austrians made the mistake of stretching their line too far and lost 20,000 men as prisoners, in addition to a significant number of killed and wounded. There may have never been a day when Napoleon demonstrated more military genius or personal bravery. He was right in the thick of the fight, exposed for a long time to barrages of grapeshot.— Editor of 1836 edition.]—







      On that day [the type] of French honour, Macdonald, who, after achieving a
      succession of prodigies, led the army of Italy into the heart of the
      Austrian States, was made a marshal on the field of battle. Napoleon said
      to him, "With us it is for life and for death." The general opinion was
      that the elevation of Macdonald added less to the marshal's military
      reputation than it redounded to the honour of the Emperor. Five days after
      the bombardment of Vienna, namely, on the 17th of May, the Emperor had
      published a decree, by virtue of which the Papal States were united to the
      French Empire, and Rome was declared an Imperial City. I will not stop to
      inquire whether this was good or bad in point of policy, but it was a mean
      usurpation on the part of Napoleon, for the time was passed when a Julius
      II. laid down the keys of St. Peter and took up the sword of St. Paul. It
      was, besides, an injustice, and, considering the Pope's condescension to
      Napoleon, an act of ingratitude. The decree of union did not deprive the
      Pope of his residence, but he was only the First Bishop of Christendom,
      with a revenue of 2,000,000.
    
On that day, in a show of French honor, Macdonald, who, after pulling off a series of incredible feats, led the army of Italy deep into Austrian territory, was appointed a marshal on the battlefield. Napoleon told him, "With us, it's for life and death." Most people thought that Macdonald’s promotion said more about the Emperor's glory than it did about the marshal's military reputation. Five days after the bombardment of Vienna, on May 17th, the Emperor issued a decree that merged the Papal States with the French Empire, declaring Rome an Imperial City. I won’t discuss whether this was a smart or foolish political move, but it was a low usurpation by Napoleon; the time of a Julius II. handing over the keys of St. Peter and taking up the sword of St. Paul had passed. Moreover, it was unjust, and given the Pope's willingness to cooperate with Napoleon, it was an act of ingratitude. The decree of union didn’t take away the Pope’s residence, but he remained only the First Bishop of Christendom, with an income of 2,000,000.







      Napoleon while at Vienna heard of the affair of Talavera de la Reyna. I
      was informed, by a letter from headquarters, that he was much affected at
      the news, and did not conceal his vexation. I verily believe that he was
      bent on the conquest of Spain, precisely on account of the difficulties he
      had to surmount. At Talavera commenced the celebrity of a man who,
      perhaps, would not have been without some glory even if pains had not been
      taken to build him up a great reputation. That battle commenced the career
      of Sir Arthur Wellesley, whose after-success, however, has been attended
      by such important consequences.
    
Napoleon, while in Vienna, heard about the battle of Talavera de la Reyna. I got a letter from headquarters informing me that he was quite affected by the news and didn’t hide his frustration. I truly believe he was determined to conquer Spain, mainly because of the challenges he faced. At Talavera, the rise to fame of a man began, who probably wouldn’t have lacked some recognition even if efforts hadn’t been made to elevate his reputation. That battle marked the start of Sir Arthur Wellesley’s career, whose later successes have led to significant consequences.






 —[The battle of Talavera took place on the 28th of July, twenty-two
   days after the fatal defeat of the Austrians at Wagram.]— 
—[The battle of Talavera occurred on July 28th, twenty-two days after the devastating defeat of the Austrians at Wagram.]—







      Whilst we experienced this check in Spain the English were attempting an
      expedition to Holland, where they had already made themselves masters of
      Walcheren. It is true they were obliged to evacuate it shortly after; but
      as at that time the French and Austrian armies were in a state of
      inaction, in consequence of the armistice concluded at Znaim, in Moravia,
      the news unfavourable to Napoleon had the effect of raising the hopes of
      the Austrian negotiators, who paused in the expectation that fresh defeats
      would afford them better chances.
    
While we were dealing with this situation in Spain, the English were planning an expedition to Holland, where they had already taken control of Walcheren. It's true they had to leave it soon after; however, since the French and Austrian armies were inactive due to the armistice reached at Znaim in Moravia, the unfavorable news for Napoleon boosted the hopes of the Austrian negotiators, who held back, hoping that further defeats would give them better opportunities.







      It was during these negotiations, the termination of which seemed every
      day to be farther distant, that Napoleon was exposed to a more real danger
      than the wound he had received at Ratisbon. Germany was suffering under a
      degree of distress difficult to be described. Illuminism was making great
      progress, and had filled some youthful minds with an enthusiasm not less
      violent than the religious fanaticism to which Henry IV. fell a victim. A
      young man formed the design of assassinating Napoleon in order to rid
      Germany of one whom he considered her scourge. Rapp and Berthier were with
      the Emperor when the assassin was arrested, and in relating what I heard
      from them I feel assured that I am giving the most faithful account of all
      the circumstances connected with the event.
    
It was during these negotiations, which seemed to be dragging on endlessly, that Napoleon faced a real danger more significant than the injury he sustained at Ratisbon. Germany was going through an unimaginable level of distress. Illuminism was gaining traction and had filled some young minds with an enthusiasm as intense as the religious fanaticism that led to Henry IV's downfall. A young man plotted to assassinate Napoleon to free Germany from someone he viewed as a curse. Rapp and Berthier were with the Emperor when the assassin was caught, and as I recount what I learned from them, I am confident that I’m sharing the most accurate account of all the details surrounding the event.







      "We were at Schoenbrunn," said Rapp, "when the Emperor had just reviewed
      the troops. I observed a young man at the extremity of one of the columns
      just as the troops were about to defile. He advanced towards the Emperor,
      who was then between Berthier and me. The Prince de Neufchatel, thinking
      he wanted to present a petition, went forward to tell him that I was the
      person to receive it as I was the aide de camp for the day. The young man
      replied that he wished to speak with Napoleon himself, and Berthier again
      told him that he must apply to me. He withdrew a little, still repeating
      that he wanted to speak with Napoleon. He again advanced and came very
      near the Emperor; I desired him to fall back, telling him in German to
      wait till after the parade, when, if he had anything to say, it would be
      attended to. I surveyed him attentively, for I began to think his conduct
      suspicious. I observed that he kept his right hand in the breast pocket of
      his coat; out of which a piece of paper appeared. I know not how it was,
      but at that moment my eyes met his, and I was struck with his peculiar
      look and air of fixed determination. Seeing an officer of gendarmerie on
      the spot, I desired him to seize the young man, but without treating him
      with any severity, and to convey him to the castle until the parade was
      ended.
    
"We were at Schoenbrunn," Rapp said, "when the Emperor had just reviewed the troops. I noticed a young man at the end of one of the columns right as the troops were about to march past. He moved toward the Emperor, who was then standing between Berthier and me. The Prince de Neufchatel, thinking the young man wanted to present a petition, stepped forward to inform him that I was the person to go to since I was the aide de camp for the day. The young man replied that he wanted to talk to Napoleon himself, and Berthier told him again that he needed to speak to me. He stepped back a bit, still insisting he wanted to talk to Napoleon. He advanced again and got very close to the Emperor; I told him to step back, instructing him in German to wait until after the parade, and that if he had something to say, it would be addressed then. I watched him closely, as I started to find his behavior suspicious. I noticed he kept his right hand in his coat pocket, and a piece of paper was visible. Somehow, at that moment, our eyes met, and I was struck by his intense look and determined demeanor. Seeing a gendarmerie officer nearby, I instructed him to detain the young man, but not to handle him too harshly, and to take him to the castle until the parade was over."







      "All this passed in less time than I have taken to tell it, and as every
      one's attention was fixed on the parade the scene passed unnoticed. I was
      shortly afterwards told that a large carving-knife had been found on the
      young man, whose name was Staps. I immediately went to find Duroc, and we
      proceeded together to the apartment to which Staps had been taken. We
      found him sitting on a bed, apparently in deep thought, but betraying no
      symptoms of fear. He had beside him the portrait of a young female, his
      pocket-book, and purse containing only two pieces of gold. I asked him his
      name, but he replied that he would tell it to no one but Napoleon. I then
      asked him what he intended to do with the knife which had been found upon
      him? But he answered again, 'I shall tell only Napoleon.'—'Did you
      mean to attempt his life?'—'Yes.'—'Why?'—'I can tell no
      one but Napoleon.'
    
"All of this happened faster than it took me to explain it, and since everyone was focused on the parade, the scene went unnoticed. Shortly after, I was told that a large carving knife had been found on the young man, whose name was Staps. I immediately went to find Duroc, and together we went to the room where Staps had been taken. We found him sitting on a bed, apparently deep in thought, but showing no signs of fear. Next to him was a portrait of a young woman, his wallet, and a purse containing only two gold coins. I asked him his name, but he said he would only tell Napoleon. I then asked him what he intended to do with the knife found on him. He replied again, 'I will tell only Napoleon.' — 'Did you mean to attempt to take his life?' — 'Yes.' — 'Why?' — 'I can tell no one but Napoleon.'"







      "This appeared to me so strange that I thought right to inform the Emperor
      of it. When I told him what had passed he appeared a little agitated, for
      you know how he was haunted with the idea of assassination. He desired
      that the young man should be taken into his cabinet; whither he was
      accordingly conducted by two gens d'armes. Notwithstanding his criminal
      intention there was something exceedingly prepossessing in his
      countenance. I wished that he would deny the attempt; but how was it
      possible to save a man who was determined to sacrifice himself? The
      Emperor asked Staps whether he could speak French, and he answered that he
      could speak it very imperfectly, and as you know (continued Rapp) that
      next to you I am the best German scholar in Napoleon's Court, I was
      appointed interpreter on this occasion. The Emperor put the following
      questions to Staps, which I translated, together with the answers:
    
"This seemed so strange to me that I felt it was right to inform the Emperor. When I told him what had happened, he appeared a little agitated, since you know how he was troubled by the idea of assassination. He requested that the young man be brought to his office, which he was by two soldiers. Despite his criminal intentions, there was something very appealing about his face. I hoped he would deny the attempt, but how could you save someone who was set on self-destruction? The Emperor asked Staps if he could speak French, and he replied that he could speak it very poorly. As you know (Rapp continued), since I am the best German speaker at Napoleon's Court after you, I was appointed as the interpreter for this situation. The Emperor asked Staps the following questions, which I translated along with his answers:







      "'Where do you come from?'—'From Narremburgh.'—'What is your
      father?'— 'A Protestant minister.'—'How old are you?'—'Eighteen.'—'What
      did you intend to do with your knife?'—'To kill you.'—'You are
      mad, young man; you are one of the illuminati?'—'I am not mad; I
      know not what is meant by the illuminati!'—'You are ill, then?'—'I
      am not; I am very well.'—'Why did you wish to kill me?'—'Because
      you have ruined my country.'—'Have I done you any harm?'—'Yes,
      you have harmed me as well as all Germans.'—'By whom were you sent?
      Who urged you to this crime?'— 'No one; I was urged to it by the
      sincere conviction that by killing you I should render the greatest
      service to my country.'—'Is this the first time you have seen me?'—'I
      saw you at Erfurt, at the time of your interview with the Emperor of
      Russia.'—'Did you intend to kill me then?'—'No; I thought you
      would not again wage war against Germany. I was one of your greatest
      admirers.'—'How long have you been in Vienna?'— 'Ten days.'—'Why
      did you wait so long before you attempted the execution of your project?'—'I
      came to Schoenbrunn a week ago with the intention of killing you, but when
      I arrived the parade was just over; I therefore deferred the execution of
      my design till today.'—'I tell you, young man, you are either mad or
      in bad health.'
    
"'Where are you from?'—'From Narremburgh.'—'What does your father do?'—'He's a Protestant minister.'—'How old are you?'—'Eighteen.'—'What did you plan to do with your knife?'—'To kill you.'—'You must be crazy, young man; are you one of the illuminati?'—'I’m not crazy; I don’t even know what the illuminati are!'—'Are you sick then?'—'No, I’m fine.'—'Why did you want to kill me?'—'Because you’ve ruined my country.'—'Did I hurt you in any way?'—'Yes, you’ve harmed me as well as all Germans.'—'Who sent you? Who encouraged you to commit this crime?'—'No one; I was motivated by the firm belief that killing you would be the greatest service to my country.'—'Is this the first time you’ve seen me?'—'I saw you in Erfurt during your meeting with the Emperor of Russia.'—'Did you want to kill me then?'—'No; I thought you wouldn’t wage war against Germany again. I was one of your biggest fans.'—'How long have you been in Vienna?'—'Ten days.'—'Why did you wait so long before trying to carry out your plan?'—'I came to Schoenbrunn a week ago intending to kill you, but by the time I arrived, the parade had just ended; so I postponed my attempt until today.'—'I tell you, young man, you are either crazy or in poor health.'







      "The Emperor here ordered Corvisart to be sent for. Staps asked who
      Corvisart was? I told him that he was a physician. He then said, 'I have
      no need of him.' Nothing further was said until the arrival of the doctor,
      and during this interval Steps evinced the utmost indifference. When
      Corvisart arrived Napoleon directed him to feel the young man's pulse,
      which he immediately did; and Staps then very coolly said, 'Am I not well,
      sir?' Corvisart told the Emperor that nothing ailed him. 'I told you so,'
      said Steps, pronouncing the words with an air of triumph.
    
The Emperor ordered for Corvisart to be called. Staps asked who Corvisart was. I told him he was a doctor. He then said, "I don’t need him." Nothing more was said until the doctor arrived, and during that time, Staps showed complete indifference. When Corvisart got there, Napoleon instructed him to check the young man's pulse, which he did right away. Staps then calmly said, "Am I not fine, sir?" Corvisart informed the Emperor that nothing was wrong with him. "I told you so," said Staps, saying it with a sense of triumph.







      "I was really astonished at the coolness and apathy of Staps, and the
      Emperor seemed for a moment confounded by the young man's behaviour.—After
      a few moments' pause the Emperor resumed the interrogatory as follows:
    
"I was really shocked by Staps' indifference and cool demeanor, and for a moment, the Emperor seemed taken aback by the young man's behavior.—After a brief pause, the Emperor continued the questioning as follows:







      "'Your brain is disordered. You will be the ruin of your family. I will
      grant you your life if you ask pardon for the crime you meditated, and for
      which you ought to be sorry.'—'I want no pardon. I only regret
      having failed in my attempt.'—'Indeed! then a crime is nothing to
      you?'— 'To kill you is no crime: it is a duty.'—'Whose
      portrait is that which was found on you?'—'It is the portrait of a
      young lady to whom I am attached.'—'She will doubtless be much
      distressed at your adventure?'— 'She will only be sorry that I have
      not succeeded. She abhors you as much as I do.'—'But if I were to
      pardon you would you be grateful for my mercy?'—'I would
      nevertheless kill you if I could.'
    
"'Your mind is messed up. You’re going to ruin your family. I’ll spare your life if you apologize for the crime you were planning, and for which you should feel sorry.'—'I don’t want your mercy. I only regret that I failed in my attempt.'—'Really? So a crime means nothing to you?'— 'Killing you isn’t a crime; it’s my duty.'—'Whose portrait is that found with you?'—'It’s a portrait of a young woman I care about.'—'She must be very upset about what happened?'— 'She will only be sorry that I didn’t succeed. She hates you just as much as I do.'—'But if I were to forgive you, would you appreciate my mercy?'—'I would still want to kill you if I could.'







      "I never," continued Rapp, "saw Napoleon look so confounded. The replies
      of Staps and his immovable resolution perfectly astonished him. He ordered
      the prisoner to be removed; and when he was gone Napoleon said, 'This is
      the result of the secret societies which infest Germany. This is the
      effect of fine principles and the light of reason. They make young men
      assassins. But what can be done against illuminism? A sect cannot be
      destroyed by cannon-balls.'
    
"I never," Rapp continued, "saw Napoleon look so bewildered. Staps' responses and his unwavering determination completely shocked him. He ordered the prisoner to be taken away; and when he was gone, Napoleon said, 'This is the result of the secret societies that plague Germany. This is the outcome of noble ideals and the light of reason. They turn young men into murderers. But what can be done against illuminism? A sect cannot be eliminated with cannonballs.'"







      "This event, though pains were taken to keep it secret, became the subject
      of conversation in the castle of Schoenbrunn. In the evening the Emperor
      sent for me and said, 'Rapp, the affair of this morning is very
      extraordinary. I cannot believe that this young man of himself conceived
      the design of assassinating me. There is something under it. I shall never
      be persuaded that the intriguers of Berlin and Weimar are strangers to the
      affair.'—'Sire, allow me to say that your suspicions appear
      unfounded. Staps has had no accomplice; his placid countenance, and even
      his fanaticism, are easiest proofs of that.'—'I tell you that he has
      been instigated by women: furies thirsting for revenge. If I could only
      obtain proof of it I would have them seized in the midst of their Court.'—'Ah,
      Sire, it is impossible that either man or woman in the Courts of Berlin or
      Weimar could have conceived so atrocious a design.'— 'I am not sure
      of that. Did not those women excite Schill against us while we were at
      peace with Prussia; but stay a little; we shall see.'— 'Schill's
      enterprise; Sire, bears no resemblance to this attempt.' You know how the
      Emperor likes every one to yield to his opinion when he has adopted one
      which he does not choose to give up; so he said, rather changing his tone
      of good-humoured familiarity, 'All you say is in vain, Monsieur le
      General: I am not liked either at Berlin or Weimar.' There is no doubt of
      that, Sire; but because you are not liked in these two Courts, is it to be
      inferred that they would assassinate you?'—'I know the fury of those
      women; but patience. Write to General Lauer: direct him to interrogate
      Staps. Tell him to bring him to a confession.'
    
"This event, even though efforts were made to keep it under wraps, became a hot topic in the castle of Schoenbrunn. In the evening, the Emperor called for me and said, 'Rapp, what happened this morning is quite extraordinary. I can’t believe this young man came up with the idea to assassinate me all on his own. There’s more to this. I won’t be convinced that the schemers in Berlin and Weimar aren’t involved.' — 'Sire, I must say your suspicions seem unfounded. Staps didn’t have any accomplices; his calm demeanor and even his fanaticism are the best proof of that.' — 'I’m telling you he’s been pushed to do this by women: vengeful furies. If I could just get proof of it, I’d have them arrested right in their Court.' — 'Ah, Sire, it’s impossible that anyone, man or woman, in the Courts of Berlin or Weimar could have plotted such a terrible scheme.' — 'I’m not so sure. Didn’t those women incite Schill against us while we were at peace with Prussia? But let’s wait a bit; we’ll find out.' — 'Schill’s plot, Sire, is nothing like this attempt.' You know how the Emperor wants everyone to agree with him once he’s made up his mind; so he said, shifting from good-natured familiarity to a more serious tone, 'Everything you say is pointless, Monsieur le General: I am not liked at either Berlin or Weimar.' There’s no doubt about that, Sire; but just because you’re not liked in those two Courts, does that mean they’d want to assassinate you?' — 'I know the wrath of those women; but let’s be patient. Write to General Lauer: tell him to question Staps. Instruct him to get a confession.'







      "I wrote conformably with the Emperor's orders, but no confession was
      obtained from Staps. In his examination by General Lauer he repeated
      nearly what he had said in the presence of Napoleon. His resignation and
      firmness never forsook him for a moment; and he persisted in saying that
      he was the sole author of the attempt, and that no one else was aware of
      it. Staps' enterprise made a deep impression on the Emperor. On the day
      when we left Schoenbrunn we happened to be alone, and he said to me, 'I
      cannot get this unfortunate Staps out of my mind. The more I think on the
      subject the more I am perplexed. I never can believe that a young man of
      his age, a German, one who has received a good education, a Protestant
      too, could have conceived and attempted such a crime. The Italians are
      said to be a nation of assassins, but no Italian ever attempted my life.
      This affair is beyond my comprehension. Inquire how Staps died, and let me
      know.'
    
"I wrote in accordance with the Emperor's orders, but no confession was obtained from Staps. During his questioning by General Lauer, he reiterated almost exactly what he had said in front of Napoleon. His resignation and determination never wavered; he maintained that he was the sole author of the attempt and that no one else knew about it. Staps' actions left a lasting impact on the Emperor. On the day we left Schönbrunn, we happened to be alone, and he said to me, 'I can’t stop thinking about this unfortunate Staps. The more I ponder it, the more confused I become. I can’t believe that a young man of his age, a German, someone who received a good education, and a Protestant too, could conceive and undertake such a crime. They say Italians are a nation of assassins, but no Italian has ever tried to take my life. This whole situation is beyond my understanding. Find out how Staps died, and let me know.'"







      "I obtained from General Lauer the information which the Emperor desired.
      I learned that Staps, whose attempt on the Emperor's life was made on the
      23d of October; was executed at seven o'clock in the morning of the 27th,
      having refused to take any sustenance since the 24th. When any food was
      brought to him he rejected it, saying, 'I shall be strong enough to walk
      to the scaffold.' When he was told that peace was concluded he evinced
      extreme sorrow, and was seized with trembling. On reaching the place of
      execution he exclaimed loudly, 'Liberty for ever! Germany for ever! Death
      to the tyrant!'"
    
"I got the information that the Emperor wanted from General Lauer. I found out that Staps, who tried to assassinate the Emperor on October 23rd, was executed at seven in the morning on the 27th. He refused to eat anything since the 24th. Whenever food was brought to him, he turned it away, saying, 'I’ll be strong enough to walk to the scaffold.' When he heard that peace had been made, he showed great sorrow and started trembling. Upon arriving at the execution site, he shouted loudly, 'Liberty forever! Germany forever! Death to the tyrant!'"







      Such are the notes which I committed to paper after conversing with Rapp,
      as we were walking together in the garden of the former hotel of
      Montmorin, in which Rapp resided. I recollect his showing me the knife
      taken from Staps, which the Emperor had given him; it was merely a common
      carving-knife, such as is used in kitchens. To these details may be added
      a very remarkable circumstance, which I received from another but not less
      authentic source. I have been assured that the attempt of the German
      Mutius Scaevola had a marked influence on the concessions which the
      Emperor made, because he feared that Staps, like him who attempted the
      life of Porsenna, might have imitators among the illuminati of Germany.
    
These are the notes I wrote down after talking with Rapp while we walked together in the garden of the former hotel of Montmorin, where Rapp lived. I remember him showing me the knife taken from Staps, which the Emperor had given him; it was just a regular carving knife, like the ones used in kitchens. To this, I can add a very notable fact that I learned from another credible source. I was told that the attempt by the German Mutius Scaevola significantly influenced the concessions the Emperor made because he was worried that Staps, similar to the one who tried to assassinate Porsenna, might inspire imitators among the enlightened individuals in Germany.







      It is well known that after the battle of Wagram conferences were open at
      Raab. Although peace was almost absolutely necessary for both powers, and
      the two Emperors appeared to desire it equally, it was not, however,
      concluded. It is worthy of remark that the delay was occasioned by
      Bonaparte. Negotiations were therefore suspended, and M. de Champagny had
      ceased for several days to see the Prince of Lichtenstein when the affair
      of Staps took place. Immediately after Napoleon's examination of the young
      fanatic he sent for M. de Champagny: "How are the negotiations going on?"
      he inquired. The Minister having informed him, the Emperor added, "I wish
      them to be resumed immediately: I wish for peace; do not hesitate about a
      few millions more or less in the indemnity demanded from Austria. Yield on
      that point. I wish to come to a conclusion: I refer it all to you." The
      Minister lost no time in writing to the Prince of Lichtenstein: on the
      same night the two negotiators met at Raab, and the clauses of the treaty
      which had been suspended were discussed, agreed upon, and signed that very
      night. Next morning M. de Champagny attended the Emperor's levee with the
      treaty of peace as it had been agreed on. Napoleon, after hastily
      examining it, expressed his approbation of every particular, and highly
      complimented his Minister on the speed with which the treaty had been
      brought to a conclusion.
    
After the Battle of Wagram, conferences were held in Raab. While peace was absolutely necessary for both powers and the two Emperors seemed equally eager for it, it still wasn’t finalized. Notably, the delay was caused by Bonaparte. Negotiations were put on hold, and M. de Champagny had stopped meeting with the Prince of Lichtenstein for several days when the situation with Staps occurred. Right after Napoleon examined the young extremist, he summoned M. de Champagny: "How are the negotiations progressing?" he asked. After the Minister updated him, the Emperor added, "I want them to resume immediately: I want peace; don’t worry about a few million more or less in the indemnity we’re asking from Austria. Compromise on that. I want to finalize this: I’m leaving it all to you." The Minister quickly wrote to the Prince of Lichtenstein; that same night, the two negotiators met in Raab, and they discussed, agreed upon, and signed the previously suspended treaty clauses. The next morning, M. de Champagny attended the Emperor's levee with the peace treaty as agreed upon. After a quick review, Napoleon expressed his approval of every detail and praised his Minister for the swift conclusion of the treaty.






 —[This definitive treaty of peace, which is sometimes called the
   Treaty of Vienna, Raab, or Schoenbrunn, contained the following
   articles:

   1. Austria ceded in favour of the Confederation of the Rhine (these
   fell to Bavaria), Salzburg, Berchtolsgaden, and a part of Upper
   Austria.

   2. To France directly Austria ceded her only seaport, Trieste, and
   all the countries of Carniola, Friuli, the circle of Vilach, with
   parts of Croatia end Dalmatia. (By these cessions Austria was
   excluded from the Adriatic Sea, and cut off from all communication
   with the navy of Great Britain.) A small lordship, en enclave in
   the territories of the Grieve League, was also gives up.

   3. To the constant ally of Napoleon, to the King of Saxony, in that
   character Austria ceded some Bohemian enclaves in Saxony end, in his
   capacity of Grand Duke of Warsaw, she added to his Polish dominions
   the ancient city of Cracow, and all Western Galicia.

   4. Russia, who had entered with but a lukewarm zeal into the war as
   an ally of France, had a very moderate share of the spoils of
   Austria. A portion of Eastern Galicia, with a population of 400,000
   souls, was allotted to her, but in this allotment the trading town
   of Brody (almost the only thing worth having) was specially
   excepted. This last circumstance gave no small degree of disgust to
   the Emperor Alexander, whose admiration of Napoleon was not destined
   to have a long duration.—Editor of 1836 edition.]— 
—[This final peace treaty, sometimes known as the Treaty of Vienna, Raab, or Schoenbrunn, included the following articles:

1. Austria ceded to the Confederation of the Rhine (which went to Bavaria), Salzburg, Berchtolsgaden, and a portion of Upper Austria.

2. Austria directly ceded her only seaport, Trieste, to France, along with all of Carniola, Friuli, the circle of Vilach, and parts of Croatia and Dalmatia. (With these concessions, Austria was shut out from the Adriatic Sea and cut off from any communication with the British navy.) A small lordship, an enclave in the territories of the Grieve League, was also given up.

3. To Napoleon's constant ally, the King of Saxony, Austria ceded some Bohemian enclaves in Saxony, and in his role as Grand Duke of Warsaw, she added to his Polish territories the historic city of Cracow and all of Western Galicia.

4. Russia, which had entered the war as an ally of France with only lukewarm enthusiasm, received a very modest share of Austria's spoils. A portion of Eastern Galicia, with a population of 400,000, was granted to her, but the trading town of Brody (virtually the only valuable asset) was specifically excluded from this allotment. This situation caused significant displeasure for Emperor Alexander, whose admiration for Napoleon was not meant to last long.—Editor of 1836 edition.]—








 


 




















      CHAPTER XXI.
    



      1809.
    
1809.


   The Princess Royal of Denmark—Destruction of the German Empire—
   Napoleons visit to the Courts of Bavaria and Wurtemberg—His return
   to France—First mention of the divorce—Intelligence of Napoleon's
   marriage with Maria Louisa—Napoleon's quarrel with Louis—Journey
   of the Emperor and Empress into Holland—Refusal of the Hanse Towns
   to pay the French troops—Decree for burning English merchandise—
   M. de Vergennes—Plan for turning an inevitable evil to the best
   account—Fall on the exchange of St Petersburg

   The Princess Royal of Denmark—Destruction of the German Empire—Napoleon's visit to the courts of Bavaria and Württemberg—His return to France—First mention of the divorce—News of Napoleon's marriage to Maria Louisa—Napoleon's argument with Louis—Journey of the Emperor and Empress to Holland—Refusal of the Hanse Towns to pay the French troops—Decree for burning English goods—M. de Vergennes—Plan to turn an unavoidable evil to our advantage—Drop in the exchange rate in St. Petersburg







      About this time I had the pleasure of again seeing the son of the reigning
      Duke of Mecklenburg-Schwerin, whose arrival in the Hanse Towns was
      speedily followed by that of his sister, Princess Frederica Charlotte of
      Mecklenburg, married to the Prince Royal of Denmark, Christian Frederick.
      In November the Princess arrived at Altana from Copenhagen, the reports
      circulated respecting her having compelled her husband to separate from
      her. The history of this Princess, who, though perhaps blamable, was
      nevertheless much pitied, was the general subject of conversation in the
      north of Germany at the time I was at Hamburg. The King of Denmark,
      grieved at the publicity of the separation, wrote a letter on the subject
      to the Duke of Mecklenburg. In this letter, which I had an opportunity of
      seeing, the King expressed his regret at not having been able to prevent
      the scandal; for, on his return from a journey to Kiel, the affair had
      become so notorious that all attempts at reconciliation were vain. In the
      meantime it was settled that the Princess was to remain at Altona until
      something should be decided respecting her future condition.
    
Around this time, I had the pleasure of seeing again the son of the current Duke of Mecklenburg-Schwerin. His arrival in the Hanse Towns was quickly followed by that of his sister, Princess Frederica Charlotte of Mecklenburg, who was married to Christian Frederick, the Prince Royal of Denmark. In November, the Princess arrived in Altona from Copenhagen, amid rumors that she had forced her husband to separate from her. The story of this Princess, who may have been at fault but was still greatly sympathized with, became a hot topic of conversation in northern Germany while I was in Hamburg. The King of Denmark, distressed by the public nature of the separation, wrote a letter about it to the Duke of Mecklenburg. In this letter, which I had the chance to see, the King expressed his regret at not being able to prevent the scandal; by the time he returned from a trip to Kiel, the situation had become so well-known that efforts to reconcile were futile. In the meantime, it was agreed that the Princess would stay in Altona until a decision was made regarding her future.







      It was Baron Plessen, the Duke of Mecklenburg's Minister of State, who
      favoured me with a sight of the King of Denmark's letters. M. Plessen told
      me, likewise, at the time that the Duke had formed the irrevocable
      determination of not receiving his daughter. A few days after her arrival
      the Princess visited Madame de Bourrienne. She invited us to her parties,
      which were very brilliant, and several times did us the honour of being
      present at ours. But; unfortunately, the extravagance of her conduct,
      which was very unsuitable to her situation, soon became the subject of
      general animadversion.
    
It was Baron Plessen, the Duke of Mecklenburg's Minister of State, who showed me the King of Denmark's letters. M. Plessen also mentioned that the Duke had made the firm decision not to welcome his daughter. A few days after her arrival, the Princess visited Madame de Bourrienne. She invited us to her parties, which were quite extravagant, and honored us by attending ours several times. But unfortunately, her behavior, which was very improper for her position, soon became a topic of public criticism.







      I mentioned at the close of the last chapter how the promptitude of M. de
      Champagny brought about the conclusion of the treaty known by the name of
      the Treaty of Schoenbrunn. Under this the ancient edifice of the German
      Empire was overthrown, and Francis II. of Germany became Francis I.,
      Emperor of Austria. He, however, could not say, like his namesake of
      France, 'Tout est perdu fors l'honneur'; for honour was somewhat
      committed, even had nothing else been lost. But the sacrifices Austria was
      compelled, to make were great. The territories ceded to France were
      immediately united into a new general government, under the collective
      denomination of the Illyrian Provinces. Napoleon thus became master of
      both sides of the Adriatic, by virtue of his twofold title of Emperor of
      France and King of Italy. Austria, whose external commerce thus received a
      check, had no longer any direct communication with the sea. The loss of
      Fiume, Trieste, and the sea-coast appeared so vast a sacrifice that it was
      impossible to look forward to the duration of a peace so dearly purchased.
    
I mentioned at the end of the last chapter how M. de Champagny's promptness led to the conclusion of the treaty known as the Treaty of Schoenbrunn. This treaty dismantled the longstanding structure of the German Empire, and Francis II of Germany became Francis I, Emperor of Austria. However, he couldn't say, like his namesake from France, "Everything is lost except honor," because honor was somewhat at stake, even if nothing else was lost. But the sacrifices Austria had to make were significant. The territories given to France were immediately integrated into a new general government under the name of the Illyrian Provinces. This allowed Napoleon to control both sides of the Adriatic, thanks to his dual titles of Emperor of France and King of Italy. Austria, which faced a setback in its external trade, no longer had direct access to the sea. The loss of Fiume, Trieste, and the coastline seemed such a massive sacrifice that it was hard to believe a peace bought at such a high price could last.







      The affair of Staps, perhaps, made Napoleon anxious to hurry away from
      Schoenbrunn, for he set off before he had ratified the preliminaries of
      the peace, announcing that he would ratify them at Munich. He proceeded in
      great haste to Nymphenburg, where he was expected on a visit to the Court
      of Bavaria. He next visited the King of Wurtemberg, whom he pronounced to
      be the cleverest sovereign in Europe, and at the end of October he arrived
      at Fontainebleau. From thence he proceeded on horseback to Paris, and he
      rode so rapidly that only a single chasseur of his escort could keep up
      with him, and, attended by this one guard, he entered the court of the
      Tuileries. While Napoleon was at Fontainebleau, before his return to
      Paris, Josephine for the first time heard the divorce mentioned; the idea
      had occurred to the Emperor's mind while he was at Schoenbrunn. It was
      also while at Fontainebleau that Napoleon appointed M. de Montalivet to be
      Minister of the Interior. The letters which we received from Paris at this
      period brought intelligence of the brilliant state of the capital during
      the winter of 1809, and especially of the splendour of the Imperial Court,
      where the Emperor's levees were attended by the Kings of Saxony, Bavaria,
      and Wurtemberg, all eager to evince their gratitude to the hero who had
      raised them to the sovereign rank.
    
The Staps incident likely made Napoleon anxious to leave Schoenbrunn quickly, so he departed before officially ratifying the peace preliminaries, claiming he would do so in Munich. He rushed to Nymphenburg, where he was expected for a visit to the Bavarian Court. Next, he met the King of Württemberg, whom he called the smartest ruler in Europe. By the end of October, he arrived in Fontainebleau. From there, he rode to Paris, going so fast that only one of his escort's chasseurs could keep up with him, and with this single guard, he entered the Tuileries courtyard. While Napoleon was at Fontainebleau, he mentioned divorce for the first time to Josephine; the thought had come to him while he was at Schoenbrunn. It was also at Fontainebleau that Napoleon appointed M. de Montalivet as Minister of the Interior. The letters we received from Paris during this time reported on the vibrant state of the capital in the winter of 1809, particularly the grandeur of the Imperial Court, where the Emperor’s levees were attended by the Kings of Saxony, Bavaria, and Württemberg, all eager to show their gratitude to the hero who had elevated them to royal status.







      I was the first person in Hamburg who received intelligence of Napoleon's
      projected marriage with the Archduchess Maria Louisa. The news was brought
      to me from Vienna by two estafettes. It is impossible to describe the
      effect produced by the anticipation of this event throughout the north of
      Germany.
    
I was the first person in Hamburg to hear about Napoleon's planned marriage to Archduchess Maria Louisa. The news was delivered to me from Vienna by two couriers. It's hard to express the impact that the excitement for this event had across northern Germany.






 —["Napoleon often reflected on the best mode of making this
   communication to the Empress; still he was reluctant to speak to
   her. He was apprehensive of the consequences of her susceptibility
   of feeling; his heart was never proof against the shedding of tears.
   Ho thought, however, that a favourable opportunity offered for
   breaking the subject previously to his quitting Fontainebleau. He
   hinted at it in a few words which he had addressed to the Empress,
   but he did not explain himself until the arrival of the viceroy,
   whom he had ordered to join him. He was the first person who spoke
   openly to his mother and obtained her consent for that bitter
   sacrifice. He acted on the occasion like a kind son and a man
   grateful to his benefactor and devoted to his service, by sparing
   him the necessity of unpleasant explanations towards a partner whose
   removal was a sacrifice as painful to him as it was affecting: The
   Emperor, having arranged whatever related to the future condition of
   the Empress, upon whom he made a liberal settlement, urged the
   moment of the dissolution of the marriage, no doubt because he felt
   grieved at the condition of the Empress herself, who dined every day
   and passed her evenings in the presence of persons who were
   witnessing her descent from the throne. There existed between him
   and the Empress Josephine no other bond than a civil act, according
   to the custom which prevailed at the time of this marriage. Now the
   law had foreseen the dissolution of such marriage oontracts. A
   particular day having therefore been fixed upon, the Emperor brought
   together into his apartments those persons whose ministry was
   required in this case; amongst others, the Arch-Chancellor and M.
   Regnault de St. Jean d'Angély. The Emperor then declared in a loud
   voice his intention of annulling the marriage he had contracted with
   Josephine, who was present; the Empress also made the same
   declaration, which was interrupted by her repeated sobs. The Prince
   Arch-Chancellor having caused the article of the law to be read, he
   applied it to the cam before him, and declared the marriage to be
   dissolved." (Memoirs of ad Duc de Rovigo).]— 
 —["Napoleon often thought about the best way to communicate this to the Empress; still, he was hesitant to talk to her. He worried about how she might react because he never could handle tears well. However, he believed a good moment had come to bring up the topic before he left Fontainebleau. He mentioned it briefly to the Empress but didn't explain further until the viceroy arrived, whom he had asked to join him. The viceroy was the first to speak directly to his mother and got her approval for that painful sacrifice. He acted like a caring son and a grateful man, saving his benefactor from having to deal with uncomfortable discussions with a partner whose separation was as hard for him as it was moving. The Emperor, having sorted out everything regarding the future circumstances of the Empress, for whom he made a generous settlement, pushed for the moment of dissolving the marriage, surely because he felt saddened by the state of the Empress, who had dinner every day and spent her evenings surrounded by people witnessing her fall from the throne. The only connection between him and Empress Josephine was a civil agreement, following the custom of their marriage at the time. Now the law allowed for the ending of such marital contracts. A specific day being set, the Emperor gathered those who were needed for the occasion in his rooms, including the Arch-Chancellor and M. Regnault de St. Jean d'Angély. The Emperor then declared loudly his intention to annul the marriage he had with Josephine, who was present; the Empress also made the same statement, though it was interrupted by her continuous sobs. The Prince Arch-Chancellor had the relevant law read aloud, applied it to the case at hand, and announced that the marriage was dissolved." (Memoirs of ad Duc de Rovigo).]—







      From all parts the merchants received orders to buy Austrian stock, in
      which an extraordinary rise immediately took place. Napoleon's marriage
      with Maria Louisa was hailed with enthusiastic and general joy. The event
      was regarded as the guarantee of a long peace, and it was hoped there
      would be a lasting cessation of the disasters created by the rivalry of
      France and Austria. The correspondence I received showed that these
      sentiments were general in the interior of France, and in different
      countries of Europe; and, in spite of the presentiments I had always had
      of the return of the Bourbons to France, I now began to think that event
      problematic, or at least very remote.
    
Merchants everywhere received orders to buy Austrian stock, which saw an immediate spike in value. Napoleon's marriage to Maria Louisa was met with enthusiastic and widespread joy. The event was seen as a sign of a long-lasting peace, and there was hope for an end to the disasters caused by the rivalry between France and Austria. The letters I got showed that these feelings were common in various parts of France and across Europe; and despite my ongoing fears about the Bourbons returning to France, I started to believe that possibility was uncertain, or at least quite distant.







      About the beginning of the year 1810 commenced the differences between
      Napoleon and his brother Louis, which, as I have already stated, ended in
      a complete rupture. Napoleon's object was to make himself master of the
      navigation of the Scheldt which Louis wished should remain free, and hence
      ensued the union of Holland with the French Empire. Holland was the first
      province of the Grand Empire which Napoleon took the new Empress to visit.
      This visit took place almost immediately after the marriage. Napoleon
      first proceeded to Compiegne, where he remained a week. He next set out
      for St. Quentin, and inspected the canal. The Empress Maria Louisa then
      joined him, and they both proceeded to Belgium. At Antwerp the Emperor
      inspected all the works which he had ordered, and to the execution of
      which he attached great importance. He returned by way of Ostend, Lille,
      and Normandy to St. Cloud, where he arrived on the 1st of June 1810. He
      there learned from my correspondence that the Hanse Towns-refused to
      advance money for the pay of the French troops. The men were absolutely
      destitute. I declared that it was urgent to put an end to this state of
      things. The Hanse towns had been reduced from opulence to misery by
      taxation and exactions, and were no longer able to provide the funds.
    
Around the start of 1810, tensions began between Napoleon and his brother Louis, which, as I mentioned earlier, led to a complete break. Napoleon aimed to control the navigation of the Scheldt, while Louis wanted it to remain free, resulting in the unification of Holland with the French Empire. Holland was the first province of the Grand Empire that Napoleon took the new Empress to visit, shortly after their marriage. Napoleon first went to Compiegne, where he stayed for a week. He then headed to St. Quentin to inspect the canal. The Empress Maria Louisa later joined him, and together they traveled to Belgium. In Antwerp, the Emperor checked on all the projects he had ordered, which he deemed very important. He returned through Ostend, Lille, and Normandy to St. Cloud, arriving on June 1, 1810. There, he learned from my correspondence that the Hanse Towns refused to lend money for paying the French troops. The soldiers were completely destitute. I emphasized the urgent need to resolve this issue. The Hanse towns had been driven from wealth to poverty due to heavy taxation and demands, and they could no longer provide the necessary funds.







      During this year Napoleon, in a fit of madness, issued a decree which I
      cannot characterise by any other epithet than infernal. I allude to the
      decree for burning all the English merchandise in France, Holland, the
      Grand Duchy of Berg, the Hanse Towns; in short, in all places subject to
      the disastrous dominion of Napoleon. In the interior of France no idea
      could possibly be formed of the desolation caused by this measure in
      countries which existed by commerce; and what a spectacle was it to the
      destitute inhabitants of those countries to witness the destruction of
      property which, had it been distributed, would have assuaged their misery!
    
During this year, Napoleon, in a moment of madness, issued a decree that I can only describe as hellish. I'm referring to the decree to burn all English goods in France, Holland, the Grand Duchy of Berg, the Hanse Towns; basically, everywhere under Napoleon's disastrous rule. Inside France, no one could possibly understand the devastation this decision caused in countries that relied on trade; and what a sight it was for the struggling people in those places to watch the destruction of goods that, if shared, could have eased their suffering!







      Among the emigrants whom I was ordered to watch was M. de Vergennes, who
      had always remained at or near Hamburg Since April 1808. I informed the
      Minister that M. de Vergennes had presented himself to me at this time. I
      even remember that M. de Vergennes gave me a letter from M. de Rémusat,
      the First Chamberlain of the Emperor. M. de Rémusat strongly recommended
      to me his connection, who was called by matters of importance to Hamburg.
      Residence in this town was, however, too expensive, and he decided to live
      at Neumuhl, a little village on the Elbe, rather to the west of Altona.
      There he lived quietly in retirement with an opera dancer named
      Mademoiselle Ledoux, with whom he had become acquainted in Paris, and whom
      he had brought with him. He seemed much taken with her. His manner of
      living did not denote large means.
    
Among the emigrants I was instructed to monitor was M. de Vergennes, who had remained in or around Hamburg since April 1808. I informed the Minister that M. de Vergennes had come to see me during this time. I even recall that M. de Vergennes handed me a letter from M. de Rémusat, the First Chamberlain to the Emperor. M. de Rémusat strongly recommended his acquaintance, who was called to Hamburg for important matters. Living in that city, however, proved too costly, so he chose to reside in Neumuhl, a small village on the Elbe, a bit west of Altona. There, he lived quietly in seclusion with an opera dancer named Mademoiselle Ledoux, whom he had met in Paris and brought with him. He seemed quite taken with her. His lifestyle did not suggest that he had a lot of money.







      One duty with which I was entrusted, and to which great importance was
      attached, was the application and execution of the disastrous Continental
      system in the north. In my correspondence I did not conceal the
      dissatisfaction which this ruinous measure excited, and the Emperor's eyes
      were at length opened on the subject by the following circumstance. In
      spite of the sincerity with which the Danish Government professed to
      enforce the Continental system, Holstein contained a great quantity of
      colonial produce; and, notwithstanding the measures of severity, it was
      necessary that that merchandise should find a market somewhere. The
      smugglers often succeeded in introducing it into Germany, and the whole
      would probably soon have passed the custom-house limits. All things
      considered, I thought it advisable to make the best of an evil that could
      not be avoided. I therefore proposed that the colonial produce then in
      Holstein, and which had been imported before the date of the King's edict
      for its prohibition, should be allowed to enter Hamburg on the payment of
      30, and on some articles 40, per cent. This duty was to be collected at
      the custom-house, and was to be confined entirely to articles consumed in
      Germany. The colonial produce in Altona, Glnckstadt, Husum, and other
      towns of Holstein, lead been estimated, at about 30,000,000 francs, and
      the duty would amount to 10,000,000 or 12,000,000. The adoption of the
      plan I proposed would naturally put a stop to smuggling; for it could not
      be doubted that the merchants would give 30 or 33 per cent for the right
      of carrying on a lawful trade rather than give 40 per cent. to the
      smugglers, with the chance of seizure.
    
One responsibility I was given, which was considered very important, was to implement the disastrous Continental system in the north. In my correspondence, I didn't hide my dissatisfaction with this harmful policy, and eventually, the Emperor became aware of it due to the following situation. Despite the Danish Government's genuine claims to enforce the Continental system, Holstein was filled with a substantial amount of colonial products. Regardless of the strict measures in place, there was still a need for those goods to find a market. Smugglers frequently managed to get them into Germany, and it was likely that most of it would soon pass the customs limits. Given the circumstances, I believed it was best to make the most of an unavoidable problem. I then suggested that the colonial products in Holstein, which had been imported before the King's ban on them, should be allowed to enter Hamburg upon payment of 30%, and for some items 40%. This duty would be collected at the customs house and would apply only to items consumed in Germany. The estimated amount of colonial products in Altona, Glückstadt, Husum, and other Holstein towns was around 30,000,000 francs, and the duty would total about 10,000,000 to 12,000,000. Adopting the plan I proposed would naturally end smuggling; after all, merchants would likely prefer to pay 30 or 33 percent for the security of legal trade rather than 40 percent to smugglers with the risk of being caught.







      The Emperor immediately adopted my idea, for I transmitted my suggestions
      to the Minister for Foreign Affairs on the 18th of September, and on the
      4th of October a decree was issued conformable to the plan I proposed.
      Within six weeks after the decree came into operation the custom-house
      Director received 1300 declarations from persons holding colonial produce
      in Holstein. It now appeared that the duties would amount to 40,000,000
      francs, that is to say, 28,000,000 or 30,000,000 more than my estimate.
    
The Emperor quickly accepted my idea, as I sent my suggestions to the Minister for Foreign Affairs on September 18th, and on October 4th, a decree was issued in line with my proposed plan. Within six weeks of the decree taking effect, the customs Director received 1,300 declarations from people holding colonial produce in Holstein. It became clear that the duties would total 40 million francs, which is 28 million to 30 million more than my original estimate.







      Bernadotte had just been nominated Prince Royal of Sweden. This
      nomination, with all the circumstances connected with it, as well as
      Bernadotte's residence in Hamburg, before he proceeded to Stockholm, will
      be particularly noticed in the next chapter. I merely mention the
      circumstance here to explain some events which took place in the north,
      and which were, more or less, directly connected with it. For example, in
      the month of September the course of exchange on St. Petersburg suddenly
      fell. All the letters which arrived in Hamburg from the capital of Russia
      and from Riga, attributed the fall to the election of the Prince of
      Ponte-Corvo as Prince Royal of Sweden. Of thirty letters which I received
      there was not one but described the consternation which the event had
      created in St. Petersburg. This consternation, however, might have been
      excited less by the choice of Sweden than by the fear that that choice was
      influenced by the French Government.
    
Bernadotte had just been named the Prince Royal of Sweden. This nomination, along with all the circumstances surrounding it and Bernadotte's stay in Hamburg before heading to Stockholm, will be discussed in detail in the next chapter. I'm mentioning this here to clarify some events that occurred in the north, which were somewhat directly linked to it. For instance, in September, the exchange rate for St. Petersburg suddenly dropped. All the letters arriving in Hamburg from the Russian capital and Riga attributed the drop to the election of the Prince of Ponte-Corvo as Prince Royal of Sweden. Out of the thirty letters I received, every single one described the shock that this event caused in St. Petersburg. However, this shock might have stemmed more from the fear that Sweden's choice was swayed by the French Government than from the choice itself.








 


 




















      CHAP XXII.
    



      1809-1810.
    
1809-1810.


   Bernadotte elected Prince Royal of Sweden—Count Wrede's overtures
   to Bernadotte—Bernadottes's three days' visit to Hamburg—
   Particulars respecting the battle of Wagram—Secret Order of the
   day—Last intercourse of the Prince Royal of Sweden with Napoleon—
   My advice to Bernadotte respecting the Continental system.

   Bernadotte elected as the Crown Prince of Sweden—Count Wrede's proposals to Bernadotte—Bernadotte's three-day visit to Hamburg—Details about the Battle of Wagram—Secret Order of the day—The final meeting between the Crown Prince of Sweden and Napoleon—My advice to Bernadotte regarding the Continental system.







      I now come to one of the periods of my life to which I look back with most
      satisfaction, the time when Bernadotte was with me in Hamburg. I will
      briefly relate the series of events which led the opposer of the 18th
      Brumaire to the throne of Sweden.
    
I now arrive at one of the most satisfying periods of my life, the time when Bernadotte was with me in Hamburg. I will briefly recount the events that brought the opponent of the 18th Brumaire to the throne of Sweden.







      On the 13th of march 1809 Gustavus Adolphus was arrested, and his uncle,
      the Duke of Sudermania, provisionally took the reins of Government. A few
      days afterwards Gustavus published his act of abdication, which in the
      state of Sweden it was impossible for him to refuse. In May following, the
      Swedish Diet having been convoked at Stockholm, the Duke of Sudermania was
      elected King. Christian Augustus, the only son of that monarch, of course
      became Prince Royal on the accession of his father to the throne. He,
      however, died suddenly at the end of May 1810, and Count Fersen (the same
      who at the Court of Marie Antoinette was distinguished by the appellation
      of 'le beau Fersen'), was massacred by the populace, who suspected,
      perhaps unjustly, that he had been accessory to the Prince's death.
    
On March 13, 1809, Gustavus Adolphus was arrested, and his uncle, the Duke of Sudermania, temporarily took control of the government. A few days later, Gustavus published his abdication, which he had no choice but to accept given the situation in Sweden. In May, the Swedish Diet convened in Stockholm, and the Duke of Sudermania was elected King. Christian Augustus, the only son of the king, naturally became Crown Prince when his father ascended the throne. However, he died unexpectedly at the end of May 1810, and Count Fersen (the same one known as 'le beau Fersen' at the court of Marie Antoinette) was killed by the mob, who suspected—possibly without justification—that he was involved in the Prince's death.






 —[Count Fereen, alleged to have been one of the favoured lovers of
   Marie Antoinette, and who was certainly deep in her confidence, had
   arranged most of the details of the attempted flight to Varennes in
   1791, and he himself drove the Royal family their first stage to the
   gates of Paris.]— 
—[Count Fereen, who was thought to be one of the favored lovers of Marie Antoinette and was definitely trusted by her, organized most of the details of the attempted escape to Varennes in 1791, and he personally drove the Royal family their first leg to the gates of Paris.]—







      On the 21st of August following Bernadotte was elected Prince Royal of
      Sweden.
    
On August 21st, Bernadotte was elected Crown Prince of Sweden.







      After the death of the Prince Royal the Duke of Sudermania's son, Count
      Wrede, a Swede, made the first overtures to Bernadotte, and announced to
      him the intention entertained at Stockholm of offering him the throne of
      Sweden. Bernadotte was at that time in Paris, and immediately after his
      first interview with Count Wrede he waited on the Emperor at St. Cloud;
      Napoleon coolly replied that he could be of no service to him; that events
      must take their course; that he might accept or refuse the offer as he
      chose; that he (Bonaparte) would place no obstacles in his way, but that
      he could give him no advice. It was very evident that the choice of Sweden
      was not very agreeable to Bonaparte, and though he afterwards disavowed
      any opposition to it, he made overtures to Stockholm, proposing that the
      crown of Sweden should be added to that of Denmark.
    
After the death of the Prince Royal, the Duke of Sudermania's son, Count Wrede, a Swede, approached Bernadotte and informed him of Stockholm's plan to offer him the throne of Sweden. At that time, Bernadotte was in Paris, and immediately after their first meeting, he went to see the Emperor at St. Cloud. Napoleon responded coolly, saying he could not help him; that events needed to unfold on their own; that he could either accept or decline the offer as he wished; that he (Bonaparte) would not put any obstacles in his way, but he could offer no advice. It was clear that Bonaparte wasn't pleased with Sweden's choice, and even though he later claimed to have no objections, he initiated discussions with Stockholm, suggesting that the crown of Sweden be combined with that of Denmark.







      Bernadotte then went to the waters of Plombieres, and on his return to
      Paris he sent me a letter announcing his elevation to the rank of Prince
      Royal of Sweden.
    
Bernadotte then went to the waters of Plombières, and when he returned to Paris, he sent me a letter announcing that he had been elevated to the rank of Prince Royal of Sweden.







      On the 11th of October he arrived in Hamburg, where he stayed only three
      days. He passed nearly the whole of that time with me, and he communicated
      to me many curious facts connected with the secret history of the times,
      and among other things some particulars respecting the battle of Wagram. I
      was the first to mention to the new Prince Royal of Sweden the reports of
      the doubtful manner in which the troops under his command behaved. I
      reminded him of Bonaparte's dissatisfaction at these troops; for there was
      no doubt of the Emperor being the author of the complaints contained in
      the bulletins, especially as he had withdrawn the troops from Bernadotte's
      command. Bernadotte assured me that Napoleon's censure was unjust; during
      the battle he had complained of the little spirit manifested by the
      soldiers. "He refused to see me," added Bernadotte, "and I was told, as a
      reason for his refusal, that he was astonished and displeased to find
      that, notwithstanding his complaints, of which I must have heard, I had
      boasted of having gained the battle, and had publicly complimented the
      Saxons whom I commanded."
    
On October 11th, he arrived in Hamburg, where he only stayed for three days. He spent almost that entire time with me, sharing many interesting facts about the secret history of the era, including some details about the Battle of Wagram. I was the first to bring up to the new Prince Royal of Sweden the rumors about how poorly his troops were performing. I reminded him of Bonaparte's disappointment with those troops; there was no doubt that the Emperor was behind the complaints in the bulletins, especially since he had taken the troops away from Bernadotte's command. Bernadotte told me that Napoleon's criticism was unfair; during the battle, he had complained about the soldiers showing little spirit. "He refused to see me," Bernadotte added, "and I was told that the reason for his refusal was that he was shocked and upset to find out that, despite his complaints, which I must have heard, I had bragged about winning the battle and had publicly praised the Saxons under my command."







      Bernadotte then showed me the bulletin he drew up after the battle of
      Wagram. I remarked that I had never heard of a bulletin being made by any
      other than the General who was Commander-in-Chief during a battle, and
      asked how the affair ended. He then handed to me a copy of the Order of
      the day, which Napoleon said he had sent only to the Marshals commanding
      the different corps.
    
Bernadotte then showed me the report he wrote after the battle of Wagram. I noted that I had never heard of a report being created by anyone other than the General who was in charge during a battle and asked how it all turned out. He then gave me a copy of the Order of the Day, which Napoleon claimed he had sent only to the Marshals leading the different corps.







      Bernadotte's bulletin was printed along with Bonaparte's Order of the Day,
      a thing quite unparalleled.
    
Bernadotte's bulletin was published alongside Bonaparte's Order of the Day, which was something totally unique.







      Though I was much interested in this account of Bonaparte's conduct after
      the battle of Wagram; yet I was more curious to hear the particulars of
      Bernadotte's last communication with the Emperor. The Prince informed me
      that on his return from Plombieres he attended the levee, when the Emperor
      asked him, before every one present, whether he had received any recent
      news from Sweden.
    
Though I was very interested in this story about Bonaparte's actions after the battle of Wagram, I was even more curious to hear the details of Bernadotte's last conversation with the Emperor. The Prince told me that upon his return from Plombieres, he attended the levee, where the Emperor asked him, in front of everyone, if he had received any recent news from Sweden.







      He replied in the affirmative. "What is it?" inquired Napoleon. "Sire, I
      am informed that your Majesty's charge d'affaires at Stockholm opposes my
      election. It is also reported to those who choose to believe it that your
      Majesty gives the preference to the King of Denmark."—"At these
      words," continued Bernadotte, "the Emperor affected surprise, which you
      know he can do very artfully. He assured me it was impossible, and then
      turned the conversation to another subject.
    
He replied yes. "What’s going on?" asked Napoleon. "Sir, I've been told that your Majesty's ambassador in Stockholm is against my election. It's also said, to those who want to believe it, that your Majesty prefers the King of Denmark."—"At this," Bernadotte continued, "the Emperor pretended to be surprised, which you know he can do quite skillfully. He assured me it was impossible, then changed the topic.







      "I know not what to think of his conduct in this affair. I am aware he
      does not like me;—but the interests of his policy may render him
      favourable to Sweden. Considering the present greatness and power of
      France, I conceived it to be my duty to make every personal sacrifice. But
      I swear to Heaven that I will never commit the honour of Sweden. He,
      however, expressed himself in the best possible terms in speaking of
      Charles XIII. and me. He at first started no obstacle to my acceptance of
      the succession to the throne of Sweden, and he ordered the official
      announcement of my election to be immediately inserted in the Moniteur'.
      Ten days elapsed without the Emperor's saying a word to me about my
      departure. As I was anxious to be off, and all my preparations were made,
      I determined to go and ask him for the letters patent to relieve me from
      my oath of fidelity, which I had certainly kept faithfully in spite of all
      his ill-treatment of me. He at first appeared somewhat surprised at my
      request, and, after a little hesitation, he said, 'There is a preliminary
      condition to be fulfilled; a question has been raised by one of the
      members of the Privy Council.'—'What condition, Sire?'—'You
      must pledge yourself not to bear arms against me.'—'Does your
      Majesty suppose that I can bind myself by such an engagement? My election
      by the Diet of Sweden, which has met with your Majesty's assent, has made
      me a Swedish subject, and that character is incompatible with the pledge
      proposed by a member of the Council. I am sure it could never have
      emanated from your Majesty, and must proceed from the Arch-Chancellor or
      the Grand Judge, who certainly could not have been aware of the height to
      which the proposition would raise me.'—'What do you mean?'—'If,
      Sire, you prevent me accepting a crown unless I pledge myself not to bear
      arms against you, do you not really place me on a level with you as a
      General?'
    
"I don't know what to make of his behavior in this situation. I know he doesn't like me, but his political interests might make him supportive of Sweden. Given the current strength and power of France, I felt it was my duty to make every personal sacrifice. But I swear, I will never compromise Sweden's honor. However, he spoke very highly of Charles XIII and me. At first, he didn't object to my accepting the throne of Sweden, and he ordered the official announcement of my election to be published immediately in the Moniteur. Ten days went by without the Emperor saying anything to me about my departure. Since I was eager to leave and had made all my arrangements, I decided to ask him for the letters patent to relieve me from my oath of loyalty, which I had certainly upheld despite all his mistreatment. He seemed somewhat surprised by my request and, after a moment of hesitation, replied, 'There is a preliminary condition to be met; a question has been raised by one of the members of the Privy Council.'—'What condition, Your Majesty?'—'You must promise not to bear arms against me.'—'Does Your Majesty really think I can commit to such an agreement? My election by the Diet of Sweden, which Your Majesty approved, has made me a Swedish subject, and that status is incompatible with the pledge proposed by a member of the Council. I'm sure it could never have come from Your Majesty and must have originated from the Arch-Chancellor or the Grand Judge, who clearly could not have realized the level of responsibility that such a proposition would place upon me.'—'What do you mean?'—'If, Your Majesty, you prevent me from accepting a crown unless I promise not to bear arms against you, don't you actually place me on the same level as you as a General?'"







      "When I declared positively that my election must make me consider myself
      a Swedish subject he frowned, and seemed embarrassed. When I had done
      speaking he said, in a low and faltering voice, 'Well, go. Our destinies
      will soon be accomplished!' These words were uttered so indistinctly that
      I was obliged to beg pardon for not having heard what he said, and he
      repented, 'Go! our destinies will soon be accomplished!' In the subsequent
      conversations which I had with the Emperor I tried all possible means to
      remove the unfavourable sentiments he cherished towards me. I revived my
      recollections of history. I spoke to him of the great men who had excited
      the admiration of the world, of the difficulties and obstacles which they
      had to surmount; and, above all, I dwelt upon that solid glory which is
      founded on the establishment and maintenance of public tranquillity and
      happiness. The Emperor listened to me attentively, and frequently
      concurred in my opinion as to the principles of the prosperity and
      stability of States. One day he took my hand and pressed it
      affectionately, as if to assure me of his friendship and protection.
      Though I knew him to be an adept in the art of dissimulation, yet his
      affected kindness appeared so natural that I thought all his unfavourable
      feeling towards me was at an end. I spoke to persons by whom our two
      families were allied, requesting that they would assure the Emperor of the
      reciprocity of my sentiments, and tell him that I was ready to assist his
      great plans in any way not hostile to the interests of Sweden.
    
"When I confidently stated that my election meant I had to see myself as a Swedish subject, he frowned and looked uncomfortable. After I finished speaking, he said in a quiet, shaky voice, 'Well, go. Our destinies will soon be fulfilled!' His words were so unclear that I had to apologize for not catching what he said, and he repeated, 'Go! our destinies will soon be fulfilled!' In the following conversations I had with the Emperor, I did everything I could to change the negative feelings he had about me. I brought up memories from history and spoke to him about the great figures who had garnered the world's admiration, as well as the challenges they had to overcome; and most importantly, I emphasized the lasting glory that comes from establishing and maintaining public peace and happiness. The Emperor listened intently and often agreed with me about the principles behind the prosperity and stability of nations. One day, he took my hand and held it warmly, as if to reassure me of his friendship and support. Even though I knew he was skilled at pretending, his feigned kindness felt so genuine that I thought all his negative feelings towards me had disappeared. I spoke to people connected to our two families, asking them to assure the Emperor of my goodwill and to let him know I was ready to support his grand plans in any way that wouldn't harm Sweden's interests."







      "Would you believe, my dear friend, that the persons to whom I made these
      candid protestations laughed at my credulity? They told me that after the
      conversation in which the Emperor had so cordially pressed my hand. I had
      scarcely taken leave of him when he was heard to say that I had made a
      great display of my learning to him, and that he had humoured me like a
      child. He wished to inspire me with full confidence so as to put me off my
      guard; and I know for a certainty that he had the design of arresting me.
    
"Can you believe it, my dear friend, that the people I made these honest confessions to laughed at my naivety? They told me that right after the conversation where the Emperor had warmly shaken my hand, I had barely left when he remarked that I had put on a big show of my knowledge to him, and that he had indulged me like a child. He wanted to gain my complete trust to catch me off guard; and I know for sure that he intended to have me arrested."







      "But," pursued Bernadotte, "in spite of the feeling of animosity which I
      know the Emperor has cherished against me since the 18th Brumaire, I do
      not think, when once I shall be in Sweden, that he will wish to have any
      differences with the Swedish Government. I must tell you, also he has
      given me 2,000,000 francs in exchange for my principality of Ponte-Corvo.
      Half the sum has been already paid, which will be very useful to me in
      defraying the expenses of my journey and installation. When I was about to
      step into my carriage to set off, an individual, whom you must excuse me
      naming, came to bid me farewell, and related to me a little conversation
      which had just taken place at the Tuileries. Napoleon said to the
      individual in question, 'Well, does not the Prince regret leaving France?'—'Certainly,
      Sire.'—'As to me, I should have been very glad if he had not
      accepted his election. But there is no help for it. . . . He does not like
      me.'—'Sire, I must take the liberty of saying that your Majesty
      labours under a mistake. I know the differences which have existed between
      you and General Bernadotte for the last six years. I know how he opposed
      the overthrow of the Directory; but I also know that the Prince has long
      been sincerely attached to you.'—'Well, I dare say you are right.
      But we have not understood each other. It is now too late. He has his
      interests and his policy, and I have mine.'"
    
"But," Bernadotte continued, "even though I know the Emperor has held a grudge against me since the 18th Brumaire, I don’t think he’ll want any issues with the Swedish Government once I’m in Sweden. I should also mention that he has given me 2,000,000 francs for my principality of Ponte-Corvo. Half of that amount has already been paid, which will really help with the costs of my journey and settling in. Just as I was about to get into my carriage to leave, someone—whom I must apologize for naming—came to say goodbye and shared a little chat that just happened at the Tuileries. Napoleon asked this person, 'Well, doesn’t the Prince regret leaving France?'—'Definitely, Sire.'—'I would have been very happy if he hadn’t accepted his election. But there’s nothing to be done... He doesn’t like me.'—'Sire, I must respectfully say that you are mistaken. I know about the disagreements between you and General Bernadotte over the last six years. I know how he fought against the overthrow of the Directory, but I also know that he has been genuinely loyal to you for a long time.'—'Well, you might be right. But we just haven’t seen eye to eye. It’s too late now. He has his own interests and plans, and I have mine.'"







      "Such," added the Prince, "were the Emperor's last observations respecting
      me two hours before my departure. The individual to whom I have just
      alluded, spoke truly, my dear Bourrienne. I am indeed sorry to leave
      France; and I never should have left it but for the injustice of
      Bonaparte. If ever I ascend the throne of Sweden I shall owe my crown to
      his ill-treatment of me; for had he not persecuted me by his animosity my
      condition would have sufficed for a soldier of fortune: but we must follow
      our fate."
    
"That," the Prince added, "was the Emperor's last remarks about me just two hours before I left. The person I mentioned was right, my dear Bourrienne. I truly regret leaving France; I would never have done so if it weren't for Bonaparte's injustice. If I ever become the King of Sweden, it will be because of his mistreatment of me; if he hadn’t pursued me with his hostility, my situation would have been enough for a soldier of fortune. But we have to accept our fate."







      During the three days the Prince spent with me I had many other
      conversations with him. He wished me to give him my advice as to the
      course he should pursue with regard to the Continental system. "I advise
      you," said I, "to reject the system without hesitation. It may be very
      fine in theory, but it is utterly impossible to carry it into practice,
      and it will, in the end, give the trade of the world to England. It
      excites the dissatisfaction of our allies, who, in spite of themselves,
      will again become our enemies. But no other country, except Russia, is in
      the situation of Sweden. You want a number of objects of the first
      necessity, which nature has withheld from you. You can only obtain them by
      perfect freedom of navigation; and you can only pay for them with those
      peculiar productions in which Sweden abounds. It would be out of all
      reason to close your ports against a nation who rules the seas. It is your
      navy that would be blockaded, not hers. What can France do against you?
      She may invade you by land. But England and Russia will exert all their
      efforts to oppose her. By sea it is still more impossible that she should
      do anything. Then you have nothing to fear but Russia and England, and it
      will be easy for you to keep up friendly relations with these two powers.
      Take my advice; sell your iron, timber, leather, and pitch; take in return
      salt, wines, brandy, and colonial produce. This is the way to make
      yourself popular in Sweden. If, on the contrary, you follow the
      Continental system, you will be obliged to adopt laws against smuggling,
      which will draw upon you the detestation of the people."
    
During the three days the Prince spent with me, I had many other conversations with him. He wanted my advice on how to handle the Continental system. "I advise you," I said, "to reject the system without hesitation. It might sound good in theory, but it’s completely impractical, and in the end, it will hand the world’s trade to England. It frustrates our allies, who, despite their best efforts, will turn back into our enemies. No other country, except Russia, is in the same situation as Sweden. You need several essential resources that nature has denied you. You can only get them through complete freedom of navigation, and you can only pay for them with the unique products that Sweden produces in abundance. It would be unreasonable to close your ports to a nation that controls the seas. It’s your navy that would be blocked, not theirs. What can France really do to you? They might invade by land, but England and Russia will do everything they can to stop them. By sea, it’s even more impossible for them to succeed. So, your only concerns are Russia and England, and it should be easy for you to maintain friendly relations with both of those powers. Take my advice; sell your iron, timber, leather, and pitch; in return, get salt, wine, brandy, and colonial goods. This is how you can gain popularity in Sweden. If, on the other hand, you stick to the Continental system, you’ll have to enforce laws against smuggling, which will make you hated by the people."







      Such was the advice which I gave to Bernadotte when he was about to
      commence his new and brilliant career. In spite of my situation as a
      French Minister I could not have reconciled it to my conscience to give
      him any other counsel, for if diplomacy has duties so also has friendship.
      Bernadotte adopted my advice, and the King of Sweden had no reason to
      regret having done so.
    
That was the advice I gave to Bernadotte when he was about to start his new and exciting career. Despite my position as a French Minister, I couldn't bring myself to give him any other guidance because, while diplomacy has its duties, friendship does too. Bernadotte followed my advice, and the King of Sweden had no reason to regret that choice.








 


 




















      CHAPTER XXIII.
    



      1810
    
1810


   Bernadotte's departure from Hamburg—The Duke of Holstein-
   Augustenburg—Arrival of the Crown Prince in Sweden—
   Misunderstandings between him and Napoleon—Letter from Bernadotte
   to the Emperor—Plot for kidnapping the Prince Royal of Sweden—
   Invasion of Swedish Pomerania—Forced alliance of Sweden with
   England and Russia—Napoleon's overtures to Sweden—Bernadotte's
   letters of explanation to the Emperor—The Princess Royal of Sweden
   —My recall to Paris—Union of the Hanse Towns with France—
   Dissatisfaction of Russia—Extraordinary demand made upon me by
   Bonaparte—Fidelity of my old friends—Duroc and Rapp—Visit to
   Malmaison, and conversation with Josephine.

   Bernadotte's departure from Hamburg — The Duke of Holstein-Augustenburg — Arrival of the Crown Prince in Sweden — Misunderstandings between him and Napoleon — Letter from Bernadotte to the Emperor — Plot to kidnap the Crown Prince of Sweden — Invasion of Swedish Pomerania — Forced alliance of Sweden with England and Russia — Napoleon's proposals to Sweden — Bernadotte's letters explaining to the Emperor — The Crown Princess of Sweden — My recall to Paris — Union of the Hanseatic towns with France — Russia's dissatisfaction — Extraordinary demands made on me by Bonaparte — Loyalty of my old friends — Duroc and Rapp — Visit to Malmaison and conversation with Josephine.







      While Bernadotte was preparing to fill the high station to which he had
      been called by the wishes of the people of Sweden, Napoleon was involved
      in his misunderstanding with the Pope,
    
While Bernadotte was getting ready to take on the important position that the people of Sweden wanted him to fill, Napoleon was caught up in his conflict with the Pope,






 —[It was about this time that, irritated at what he called the
   captive Pope's unreasonable obstinacy, Bonaparte conceived, and
   somewhat openly expressed, his notion of making France a Protestant
   country, and changing the religion of 30,000,000 of people by an
   Imperial decree. One or two of the good sayings of the witty,
   accomplished, and chivalrous Comte Louis de Narbonne have already
   been given in the course of these volumes. The following is another
   of them:

   "I tell you what I will do, Narbonne—I tell you how I will vent my
   spite on this old fool of a Pope, and the dotards who may succeed
   him said Napoleon one day at the Tuileries. "I will make a schism
   as great as that of Luther—I will make France a Protestant
   country!"

   "O Sire," replied the Count, "I see difficulties in the way of this
   project. In the south, in the Vendée, in nearly all the west, the
   French are bigoted Catholics and even what little religion remains
   among us in our cities and great towns is of the Roman Church."

   "Never mind, Narbonne—never mind!—I shall at least carry a large
   portion of the French people with me—I will make a division!" Sire,
   replied Narbonne, "I am afraid that there is not enough religion in
   all France to stand division!"-Editor of 1836 edition.]— 
—[It was around this time that Bonaparte, frustrated by what he called the captive Pope's unreasonable stubbornness, started to openly suggest his idea of turning France into a Protestant country and changing the religion of 30 million people with an Imperial decree. One or two of the clever, cultured, and gallant Comte Louis de Narbonne's memorable quotes have already been shared in this collection. Here’s another:

   "I’ll tell you what I’m going to do, Narbonne—I’ll tell you how I’ll get back at this old fool of a Pope and the fools who might follow him," said Napoleon one day at the Tuileries. "I will create a schism as significant as Luther's—I will make France a Protestant nation!"

   "Oh Sire," replied the Count, "I see some obstacles to this plan. In the south, in the Vendée, and almost everywhere in the west, the French are deeply devout Catholics, and even the little religion that persists among us in our cities and large towns is Roman Catholic."

   "Doesn't matter, Narbonne—doesn't matter!—I’ll still have a large part of the French people on my side—I’ll cause a split!" Sire," Narbonne replied, "I fear there isn't enough faith in all of France to handle a split!" -Editor of 1836 edition.]—







      and in the affairs of Portugal, which were far from proceeding according
      to his wishes. Bernadotte had scarcely quitted Hamburg for Sweden when the
      Duke of Holstein-Augustenburg arrived. The Duke was the brother of the
      last Prince Royal of Sweden, whom Bernadotte was called to succeed, and he
      came to escort his sister from Altona to Denmark. His journey had been
      retarded for some days on account of the presence of the Prince of
      Ponte-Gorvo in Hamburg: the preference granted to Bernadotte had mortified
      his ambition, and he was unwilling to come in contact with his fortunate
      rival. The Duke was favoured, by the Emperor of Russia.
    
and in the situation in Portugal, which was far from progressing as he had hoped. Bernadotte had barely left Hamburg for Sweden when the Duke of Holstein-Augustenburg arrived. The Duke was the brother of the last Crown Prince of Sweden, whom Bernadotte was set to replace, and he came to bring his sister from Altona to Denmark. His trip had been delayed for a few days because the Prince of Ponte-Gorvo was in Hamburg: the favor shown to Bernadotte had hurt his ambition, and he was not eager to face his lucky rival. The Duke enjoyed the support of the Emperor of Russia.







      As soon as he arrived in Sweden Bernadotte directed his aide de camp,
      General Lentil de St. Alphonse, to inform me of his safe passage. Shortly
      after I received a letter from Bernadotte himself, recommending one of his
      aides de camp, M. Villatte, who was the bearer of it. This letter
      contained the same sentiments of friendship as those I used to receive
      from General Bernadotte, and formed a contrast with the correspondence of
      King Jerome, who when he wrote to me assumed the regal character, and
      prayed that God would have me in his holy keeping. However, the following
      is the Prince Royal's letter:
    
As soon as he got to Sweden, Bernadotte instructed his aide de camp, General Lentil de St. Alphonse, to let me know that he had arrived safely. Shortly after that, I received a letter from Bernadotte himself, recommending one of his aides de camp, M. Villatte, who delivered it. This letter expressed the same feelings of friendship that I used to get from General Bernadotte and stood in contrast to the letters from King Jerome, who, when he wrote to me, took on a royal tone and asked God to keep me safe. However, here’s the letter from the Prince Royal:






   MY DEAR BOURRIENNE—I have directed M. Villatte to see you on his
   way through Hamburg, and to bear my friendly remembrances to you.
   Lentil has addressed his letter to you, which I suppose you have
   already received. Adieu, care for me always, and believe in the
   inalterable attachment of yours,

                    (Signed)CHARLES JOHN.

   P.S.—I beg you will present my compliments to madame and all your
   family. Embrace my little cousin for me.

   MY DEAR BOURRIENNE—I've asked M. Villatte to meet you on his way through Hamburg and to send you my warm regards. Lentil has sent his letter to you, which I assume you've already received. Goodbye, always keep me in your thoughts, and trust in my unwavering affection for you,

                    (Signed) CHARLES JOHN.

   P.S.—Please give my regards to madame and your whole family. Give my little cousin a hug for me.







      The little cousin, so called by Bernadotte, was one of my daughters, then
      a child, whom Bernadotte used to be very fond of while he was at Hamburg.
    
The little cousin, as Bernadotte referred to her, was one of my daughters, who was just a child at the time, and Bernadotte was very fond of her when he was in Hamburg.







      Departing from the order of date, I will anticipate the future, and relate
      all I know respecting the real causes of the misunderstanding which arose
      between Bernadotte and Napoleon. Bonaparte viewed the choice of the Swedes
      with great displeasure, because he was well aware that Bernadotte had too
      much integrity and honour to serve him in the north as a political puppet
      set in motion by means of springs which he might pull at Paris or at his
      headquarters. His dissatisfaction upon this point occasioned an
      interesting correspondence, part of which, consisting of letters from
      Bernadotte to the Emperor, is in my possession. The Emperor had allowed
      Bernadotte to retain in his service, for a year at least, the French
      officers who were his aides de camp—but that permission was soon
      revoked, end the Prince Royal of Sweden wrote to Napoleon a letter of
      remonstrance.
    
Leaving the chronological order behind, I will look ahead and share everything I know about the real reasons behind the misunderstanding between Bernadotte and Napoleon. Bonaparte was very displeased with the Swedes' choice because he understood that Bernadotte had too much integrity and honor to be used as a political puppet in the north, controlled by strings he could pull from Paris or his headquarters. His dissatisfaction on this matter led to an interesting exchange of letters, some of which, including those from Bernadotte to the Emperor, I have in my possession. The Emperor had initially allowed Bernadotte to keep the French officers who served as his aides-de-camp for at least a year, but that permission was soon revoked, prompting the Prince Royal of Sweden to write a letter of protest to Napoleon.







      Napoleon's dissatisfaction with the Prince Royal now changed to decided
      resentment. He repented having acceded to his departure from France, and
      he made no secret of his sentiments, for he said before his courtiers,
      "That he would like to send Bernadotte to Vincennes to finish his study of
      the Swedish language." Bernadotte was informed of this, but he could not
      believe that the Emperor had ever entertained such a design. However, a
      conspiracy was formed in Sweden against Bernadotte, whom a party of
      foreign brigands were hired to kidnap in the neighbourhood of Raga; but
      the plot was discovered, and the conspirators were compelled to embark
      without their prey. The Emperor having at the same time seized upon
      Swedish Pomerania, the Prince Royal wrote him a second letter in these
      terms:
    
Napoleon's dissatisfaction with the Prince Royal shifted to open resentment. He regretted allowing him to leave France and didn’t hide his feelings, saying in front of his courtiers, "I would like to send Bernadotte to Vincennes to finish his study of the Swedish language." Bernadotte heard about this but couldn't believe that the Emperor had ever seriously considered such a plan. Meanwhile, a conspiracy was organized in Sweden against Bernadotte, with a group of foreign criminals hired to abduct him near Raga; however, the plot was uncovered, and the conspirators had to leave without their target. At the same time, the Emperor seized Swedish Pomerania, prompting the Prince Royal to write him a second letter in these terms:






   From the papers which have just arrived I learn that a division of
   the army, under the command of the Prince of Eckmuhl, invaded
   Swedish Pomerania on the night of the 26th of January; that the
   division continued to advance, entered the capital of the Duchy, and
   took possession of the island of Rugen. The King expects that your
   Majesty will explain the reasons which have induced you to act in a
   manner so contrary to the faith of existing treaties. My old
   connection with your Majesty warrants me in requesting you to
   declare your motives without delay, in order that I may give my
   advice to the King as to the conduct which Sweden ought hereafter to
   adopt. This gratuitous outrage against Sweden is felt deeply by the
   nation, and still more, Sire, by me, to whom is entrusted the honour
   of defending it. Though I have contributed to the triumphs of
   France, though I have always desired to see her respected and happy;
   yet I can never think of sacrificing the interests, honour, and
   independence of the country which has adopted me. Your Majesty, who
   has so ready a perception of what is just, must admit the propriety
   of my resolution. Though I am not jealous of the glory and power
   which surrounds you, I cannot submit to the dishonour of being
   regarded as a vassal. Your Majesty governs the greatest part of
   Europe, but your dominion does not extend to the nation which I have
   been called to govern; my ambition is limited to the defence of
   Sweden. The effect produced upon the people by the invasion of
   which I complain may lead to consequences which it is impossible to
   foresee; and although I am not a Coriolanus, and do not command the
   Volsci, I have a sufficiently good opinion of the Swedes to assure
   you that they dare undertake anything to avenge insults which they
   have not provoked, and to preserve rights to which they are as much
   attached as to their lives.

From the papers that just arrived, I learn that a division of the army, led by the Prince of Eckmuhl, invaded Swedish Pomerania on the night of January 26th. The division kept advancing, entered the capital of the Duchy, and took control of the island of Rugen. The King expects that your Majesty will explain the reasons that led you to act in such a way, which goes against the faith of current treaties. My long relationship with your Majesty gives me the right to ask you to share your motives without delay, so I can advise the King on how Sweden should respond moving forward. This unnecessary outrage against Sweden is deeply felt by the nation, and even more so, Sire, by me, as I have the honor of defending it. Although I have contributed to France's successes and have always wanted to see her respected and happy, I can never think of sacrificing the interests, honor, and independence of the country that has taken me in. Your Majesty, who understands what is fair, must recognize the validity of my stance. While I don’t envy the glory and power that surrounds you, I cannot accept the dishonor of being seen as a subordinate. Your Majesty governs much of Europe, but your control does not reach the nation I have been tasked with leading; my ambition is focused on defending Sweden. The reaction of the people to the invasion I’m complaining about could have unforeseen consequences; and although I’m not a Coriolanus and do not command the Volsci, I have enough faith in the Swedes to assure you that they would dare to do anything to avenge insults they did not provoke, and to defend rights they cherish as much as their lives.







      I was in Paris when the Emperor received Bernadotte's letter on the
      occupation of Swedish Pomerania. When Bonaparte read it I was informed
      that he flew into a violent rage, and even exclaimed, "You shall submit to
      your degradation, or die sword in hand!" But his rage was impotent. The
      unexpected occupation of Swedish Pomerania obliged the King of Sweden to
      come to a decided rupture with France, and to seek other allies, for
      Sweden was not strong enough in herself to maintain neutrality in the
      midst of the general conflagration of Europe after the disastrous campaign
      of Moscow. The Prince Royal, therefore, declared to Russia and England
      that in consequence of the unjust invasion of Pomerania Sweden was at war
      with France, and he despatched Comte de Lowenhjelm, the King's aide de
      camp, with a letter explanatory of his views. Napoleon sent many notes to
      Stockholm, where M. Alquier, his Ambassador, according to his
      instructions, had maintained a haughty and even insulting tone towards
      Sweden. Napoleon's overtures, after the manifestations of his anger, and
      after the attempt to carry off the Prince Royal, which could be attributed
      only to him, were considered by the Prince Royal merely as a snare. But in
      the hope of reconciling the duties he owed to both his old and his new
      country he addressed to the Emperor a moderate letter:
    
I was in Paris when the Emperor received Bernadotte's letter about the occupation of Swedish Pomerania. When Bonaparte read it, I was told that he flew into a furious rage and even shouted, "You will either accept your humiliation or die fighting!" But his anger was ineffective. The unexpected occupation of Swedish Pomerania forced the King of Sweden to break ties with France and seek new allies, as Sweden was too weak to remain neutral amid the widespread chaos in Europe following the disastrous campaign in Moscow. The Prince Royal, therefore, declared to Russia and England that because of the unjust invasion of Pomerania, Sweden was at war with France, and he sent Comte de Lowenhjelm, the King's aide-de-camp, with a letter explaining his position. Napoleon sent many notes to Stockholm, where M. Alquier, his Ambassador, had adopted a proud and even insulting tone toward Sweden, per his orders. After witnessing Napoleon's anger and the attempted kidnapping of the Prince Royal, which could solely be blamed on him, the Prince Royal viewed Napoleon's overtures as just a trap. However, in an effort to balance his responsibilities to both his old and new country, he wrote a restrained letter to the Emperor:







      This letter throws great light on the conduct of the Emperor with respect
      to Bernadotte; for Napoleon was not the man whom any one whatever would
      have ventured to remind of facts, the accuracy of which was in the least
      degree questionable. Such then were the relations between Napoleon and the
      Prince Royal of Sweden. When I shall bring to light some curious secrets,
      which have hitherto been veiled beneath the mysteries of the Restoration,
      it will be seen by what means Napoleon, before his fall, again sought to
      wreak his vengeance upon Bernadotte.
    
This letter sheds significant light on the Emperor's behavior regarding Bernadotte; Napoleon was not someone anyone would dare to remind of facts that were even slightly questionable. Thus were the relations between Napoleon and the Crown Prince of Sweden. When I reveal some intriguing secrets that have so far been hidden under the mysteries of the Restoration, it will become clear how Napoleon, before his downfall, attempted to exact his revenge on Bernadotte.







      Oh the 4th of December I had the honour to see the Princess Royal of
      Sweden,—[Madame Bernadotte, afterwards Queen of Sweden, was a
      Mademoiselle Clary, and younger sister to the wife of Joseph Bonaparte]—who
      arrived that day at Hamburg. She merely passed through the city on her way
      to Stockholm to join her husband, but she remained but a short time in
      Sweden,—two months, I believe, at most, not being able to reconcile
      herself to the ancient Scandinavia. As to the Prince Royal, he soon became
      inured to the climate, having been for many years employed in the north.
    
On December 4th, I had the honor of seeing the Princess Royal of Sweden—[Madame Bernadotte, later Queen of Sweden, was Mademoiselle Clary, and the younger sister of Joseph Bonaparte’s wife]—who arrived that day in Hamburg. She only stopped briefly in the city on her way to Stockholm to join her husband, but she spent only a short time in Sweden—two months at most—unable to adapt to the old Scandinavian culture. As for the Prince Royal, he quickly got used to the climate, having worked in the north for many years.







      After this my stay at Hamburg was not of long duration. Bonaparte's
      passion for territorial aggrandisement knew no bounds; and the turn of the
      Hanse Towns now arrived. By taking possession of these towns and
      territories he merely accomplished a design formed long previously. I,
      however, was recalled with many compliments, and under the specious
      pretext that the Emperor wished to hear my opinions respecting the country
      in which. I had been residing. At the beginning of December I received a
      letter from M. de Champagny stating that the Emperor wished to see me in
      order to consult with me upon different things relating to Hamburg. In
      this note I was told "that the information I had obtained respecting
      Hamburg and the north of Germany might be useful to the public interest,
      which must be the most gratifying reward of my labours." The reception
      which awaited me will presently be seen. The conclusion of the letter
      spoke in very flattering terms of the manner in which I had discharged my
      duties. I received it on the 8th of December, and next day I set out for
      Paris. When I arrived at Mayence I was enabled to form a correct idea of
      the fine compliments which had been paid me, and of the Emperor's anxiety
      to have my opinion respecting the Hanse Towns. In Mayence I met the
      courier who was proceeding to announce the union of the Hanse Towns with
      the French Empire. I confess that, notwithstanding the experience I had
      acquired of Bonaparte's duplicity, or rather, of the infinite multiplicity
      of his artifices, he completely took me by surprise on that occasion.
    
After that, my time in Hamburg didn’t last long. Bonaparte’s desire for expanding his territory was unending, and soon the rest of the Hanse Towns were in play. By taking control of these towns and lands, he achieved a plan that had been in place for a long time. However, I was called back with many compliments, under the misleading pretense that the Emperor wanted my thoughts on the country I had been living in. At the beginning of December, I got a letter from M. de Champagny saying the Emperor wanted to see me to discuss various matters related to Hamburg. The note mentioned that "the information I gathered about Hamburg and northern Germany could be beneficial for the public interest, which should be the most rewarding acknowledgment of my efforts." The reception I received upon my return will be revealed shortly. The end of the letter praised how well I had fulfilled my responsibilities. I got it on December 8th, and the next day, I left for Paris. When I got to Mayence, I was able to get a clear picture of the flattering remarks directed at me and the Emperor's eagerness to hear my opinion about the Hanse Towns. In Mayence, I encountered the courier who was heading to announce the union of the Hanse Towns with the French Empire. I admit that, despite the experience I had with Bonaparte's deceptive nature, he completely caught me off guard that time.







      On my arrival in Paris I did not see the Emperor, but the first 'Moniteur'
      I read contained the formula of a 'Senatus-consulte,' which united the
      Hanse Towns, Lauenburg, etc., to the French Empire by the right of the
      strongest. This new and important augmentation of territory could not fail
      to give uneasiness to Russia. Alexander manifested his dissatisfaction by
      prohibiting the importation of our agricultural produce and manufactures
      into Russia. Finally, as the Continental system had destroyed all trade by
      the ports of the Baltic, Russia showed herself more favourable to the
      English, and gradually reciprocal complaints of bad faith led to that war
      whose unfortunate issue was styled by M. Talleyrand "the beginning of the
      end."
    
When I arrived in Paris, I didn’t meet the Emperor, but the first 'Moniteur' I read included the announcement of a 'Senatus-consulte' that brought the Hanse Towns, Lauenburg, and others into the French Empire by force. This significant expansion of territory was bound to cause concern for Russia. Alexander showed his discontent by banning the import of our agricultural products and goods into Russia. Ultimately, since the Continental system had shut down all trade through the Baltic ports, Russia became more favorable to the English, and the rising mutual complaints of dishonesty led to that war, which M. Talleyrand referred to as "the beginning of the end."







      I have now to make the reader acquainted with an extraordinary demand made
      upon me by the Emperor through the medium of M. de Champagny. In one of my
      first interviews with that Minister after my return to Paris he thus
      addressed me: "The Emperor has entrusted me with a commission to you which
      I am obliged to execute: 'When you see Bourrienne,' said the Emperor,
      'tell him I wish him to pay 6,000,000 into your chest to defray the
      expense of building the new Office for Foreign Affairs.'" I was so
      astonished at this unfeeling and inconsiderate demand that I was utterly
      unable to make airy reply. This then was my recompense for having obtained
      money and supplies during my residence at Hamburg to the extent of nearly
      100,000,000, by which his treasury and army had profited in moments of
      difficulty! M. de Champagny added that the Emperor did not wish to receive
      me. He asked what answer he should bear to his Majesty. I still remained
      silent, and the Minister again urged me to give an answer. "Well, then,"
      said I, "tell him he may go to the devil." The Minister naturally wished
      to obtain some variation from this laconic answer, but I would give no
      other; and I afterwards learned from Duroc that M. de Champagny was
      compelled to communicate it to Napoleon. "Well," asked the latter, "have
      you seen Bourrienne?"—"Yes, Sire."—"Did you tell him I wished
      him to pay 6,000,000 into your chest?"—"Yes, Sire."—"And what
      did he say?"—"Sire, I dare not inform your Majesty."—"What did
      he say? I insist upon knowing."—"Since you insist on my telling you,
      Sire, M. de Bourrienne said your Majesty might go to the devil."—"Ah!
      ah! did he really say so?" The Emperor then retired to the recess of a
      window, where he remained alone for seven or eight minutes, biting his
      nails; in the fashion of Berthier, and doubtless giving free scope to his
      projects of vengeance. He then turned to the Minister and spoke to him of
      quite another subject: Bonaparte had so nursed himself in the idea of
      making me pay the 6,000,000 that every time he passed the Office for
      Foreign Affairs he said to those who accompanied hint; "Bourrienne must
      pay for that after all."
    
I need to share an extraordinary request made of me by the Emperor through M. de Champagny. During one of my first meetings with that Minister after I returned to Paris, he said to me: "The Emperor has given me a task for you that I must carry out: 'When you see Bourrienne,' said the Emperor, 'tell him I want him to pay 6,000,000 into your account to cover the costs of building the new Office for Foreign Affairs.'" I was so shocked by this cold and thoughtless demand that I couldn't even respond lightly. This was my reward for securing money and supplies during my time in Hamburg, totaling nearly 100,000,000, which had benefited his treasury and army in tough times! M. de Champagny added that the Emperor didn’t want to see me. He asked what response he should take back to his Majesty. I stayed silent, and the Minister pressed me for an answer again. "Well, then," I said, "tell him he can go to hell." The Minister naturally wanted a different response, but I wouldn't give him one. I later learned from Duroc that M. de Champagny was forced to relay it to Napoleon. "Well," the Emperor asked, "have you seen Bourrienne?"—"Yes, Sire."—"Did you tell him I wanted him to pay 6,000,000 into your account?"—"Yes, Sire."—"And what did he say?"—"Sire, I’m afraid to tell your Majesty."—"What did he say? I must know."—"Since you insist, Sire, M. de Bourrienne said your Majesty can go to hell."—"Oh! Did he really say that?" The Emperor then retreated to a corner of a window, where he stayed alone for seven or eight minutes, biting his nails, just like Berthier, and probably letting his thoughts of revenge run wild. He then turned to the Minister and talked about something completely different: Bonaparte had become so fixated on making me pay the 6,000,000 that every time he passed the Office for Foreign Affairs, he told those with him, "Bourrienne must pay for that after all."






 —[This demand of money from Bourrienne is explained in Erreurs
   (tome ii, p. 228) by the son of Davoust. Bourrienne had been
   suspected by Napoleon of making large sums at Hamburg by allowing
   breaches of the Continental system. In one letter to Davoust
   Napoleon speaks of an "immense fortune," and in another, that
   Bourrienne is reported to have gained seven or eight millions at
   Hamburg in giving licences or making arbitrary seizures.]— 
—[This request for money from Bourrienne is explained in Erreurs
   (volume ii, page 228) by Davoust's son. Napoleon suspected Bourrienne of making significant amounts of money in Hamburg by permitting violations of the Continental system. In one letter to Davoust, Napoleon mentions an "immense fortune," and in another, he states that Bourrienne is believed to have earned seven or eight million in Hamburg by granting licenses or making arbitrary seizures.]—







      Though I was not admitted to the honour of sharing the splendour of the
      Imperial Court; yet I had the satisfaction of finding that; in spite of my
      disgrace, those of my old friends who were worth anything evinced the same
      regard for me as heretofore. I often saw Duroc; who snatched some moments
      from his more serious occupations to come and chat with me respecting all
      that had occurred since my secession from Bonaparte's cabinet. I shall not
      attempt to give a verbatim account of my conversations with Duroc, as I
      have only my memory to guide me; but I believe I shall not depart from the
      truth in describing them as follows:
    
Though I wasn't granted the honor of being part of the grandeur of the Imperial Court, I took comfort in realizing that, despite my fall from grace, my old friends who really mattered still showed me the same affection as before. I often met with Duroc, who took time away from his more serious responsibilities to talk with me about everything that had happened since I left Bonaparte's cabinet. I won’t try to recount our conversations word for word since I only have my memory to rely on, but I believe I can accurately summarize them as follows:







      On his return from the last Austrian campaign Napoleon; as I have already
      stated, proceeded to Fontainebleau, where he was joined by Josephine.
      Then, for the first time, the communication which had always existed
      between the apartments of the husband and wife was closed. Josephine was
      fully alive to the fatal prognostics which were to be deduced from this
      conjugal separation. Duroc informed me that she sent for him, and on
      entering her chamber, he found her bathed in tears. "I am lost!" she
      exclaimed in a tone of voice the remembrance of which seemed sensibly to
      affect Duroc even while relating the circumstance to me: "I am utterly
      lost! all is over now! You, Duroc, I know, have always been my friend, and
      so has Rapp. It is not you who have persuaded him to part from me. This is
      the work of my enemies Savary and Junot! But they are more his enemies
      than mine. And my poor Eugène I how will he be distressed when he learns I
      am repudiated by an ungrateful man! Yes Duroc, I may truly call him
      ungrateful, My God! my God! what will become of us?" . . . Josephine
      sobbed bitterly while she thus addressed Duroc.
    
On his return from the last campaign in Austria, Napoleon, as I’ve already mentioned, went to Fontainebleau, where he was joined by Josephine. For the first time, the connection that had always been there between the husband and wife was severed. Josephine was fully aware of the dire implications that would come from this separation. Duroc told me that she called for him, and when he entered her room, he found her in tears. "I am lost!" she cried out, her voice so filled with emotion that it seemed to deeply impact Duroc even as he recounted the story to me: "I am utterly lost! It's all over now! You, Duroc, I know, have always been my friend, and so has Rapp. You’re not the ones who persuaded him to leave me. This is the doing of my enemies Savary and Junot! But they are more his enemies than mine. And my poor Eugène! How will he feel when he learns that I’m rejected by an ungrateful man! Yes, Duroc, I can honestly call him ungrateful. My God! My God! What will become of us?" Josephine wept bitterly as she spoke to Duroc.







      Before I was acquainted with the singular demand which M. de Champagny was
      instructed to make to me I requested Duroc to inquire of the Emperor his
      reason for not wishing to see me. The Grand Marshal faithfully executed my
      commission, but he received only the following answer: "Do you think I
      have nothing better to do than to give Bourrienne an audience? that would
      indeed furnish gossip for Paris and Hamburg. He has always sided with the
      emigrants; he would be talking to me of past times; he was for Josephine!
      My wife, Duroc, is near her confinement; I shall have a son, I am sure!...
      Bourrienne is not a man of the day; I have made giant strides since he
      left France; in short, I do not want to see him. He is a grumbler by
      nature; and you know, my dear Duroc, I do not like men of that sort."
    
Before I knew about the specific demand that M. de Champagny was instructed to make to me, I asked Duroc to check with the Emperor on why he didn't want to meet with me. The Grand Marshal carried out my request faithfully, but he returned with only this response: "Do you really think I have nothing better to do than to give Bourrienne an audience? That would definitely create gossip in Paris and Hamburg. He has always supported the emigrants; he would be reminiscing about the past; he was for Josephine! My wife, Duroc, is about to give birth; I'm sure I'll have a son! ... Bourrienne is not a relevant person anymore; I've made huge progress since he left France; in short, I don’t want to see him. He's naturally a complainer; and you know, my dear Duroc, I don’t like that kind of man."







      I had not been above a week in Paris when Duroc related this speech to me.
      Rapp was not in France at the time, to my great regret. Much against his
      inclination he had been appointed to some duties connected with the
      Imperial marriage ceremonies, but shortly after, having given offence to
      Napoleon by some observation relating to the Faubourg St. Germain, he had
      received orders to repair to Dantzic, of which place he had already been
      Governor.
    
I had only been in Paris for about a week when Duroc told me this.  
      Rapp wasn’t in France at the time, which I really regretted. Despite his reluctance, he had been assigned to some responsibilities related to the Imperial wedding ceremonies, but soon after, he offended Napoleon with a comment about the Faubourg St. Germain and was ordered to go to Dantzic, where he had previously been Governor.







      The Emperor's refusal to see me made my situation in Paris extremely
      delicate; and I was at first in doubt whether I might seek an interview
      with Josephine. Duroc, however, having assured me that Napoleon would have
      no objection to it, I wrote requesting permission to wait upon her. I
      received an answer the same day, and on the morrow I repaired to
      Malmaison. I was ushered into the tent drawing-room, where I found
      Josephine and Hortense. When I entered Josephine stretched out her hand to
      me, saying, "Ah! my friend!" These words she pronounced with deep emotion,
      and tears prevented her from continuing. She threw herself on the ottoman
      on the left of the fireplace, and beckoned me to sit down beside her.
      Hortense stood by the fireplace, endeavouring to conceal her tears.
      Josephine took my hand, which she pressed in both her own; and, after a
      struggle to overcome her feelings, she said, "My dear Bourrienne, I have
      drained my cup of misery. He has cast me off! forsaken me! He conferred
      upon me the vain title of Empress only to render my fall the more marked.
      Ah! we judged him rightly! I knew the destiny that awaited me; for what
      would he not sacrifice to his ambition!" As she finished these words one
      of Queen Hortense's ladies entered with a message to her; Hortense stayed
      a few moments, apparently to recover from the emotion under which she was
      labouring, and then withdrew, so that I was left alone with Josephine. She
      seemed to wish for the relief of disclosing her sorrows, which I was
      curious to hear from her own lips; women have such a striking way of
      telling their distresses. Josephine confirmed what Duroc had told me
      respecting the two apartments at Fontainebleau; then, coming to the period
      when Bonaparte had declared to her the necessity of a separation, she
      said, "My dear Bourrienne; during all the years you were with us you know
      I made you the confidant of my thoughts, and kept you acquainted with my
      sad forebodings. They are now cruelly fulfilled. I acted the part of a
      good wife to the very last. I have suffered all, and I am resigned! . . .
      What fortitude did it require latterly to endure my situation, when,
      though no longer his wife, I was obliged to seem so in the eyes of the
      world! With what eyes do courtiers look upon a repudiated wife! I was in a
      state of vague uncertainty worse than death until the fatal day when he at
      length avowed to me what I had long before read in his looks! On the 30th
      of November 1809 we were dining together as usual, I had not uttered a
      word during that sad dinner, and he had broken silence only to ask one of
      the servants what o'clock it was. As soon as Bonaparte had taken his
      coffee he dismissed all the attendants, and I remained alone with him. I
      saw in the expression of his countenance what was passing in his mind, and
      I knew that my hour was come. He stepped up to me—he was trembling,
      and I shuddered; he took my hand, pressed it to his heart, and after
      gazing at me for a few moments in silence he uttered these fatal words:
      'Josephine! my dear Josephine! You know how I have loved you! . . . To
      you, to you alone, I owe the only moments of happiness I have tasted in
      this world. But, Josephine, my destiny is not to be controlled by my will.
      My dearest affections must yield to the interests of France.'—'Say
      no more,' I exclaimed, 'I understand you; I expected this, but the blow is
      not the less mortal.' I could not say another word," continued Josephine;
      "I know not what happened after I seemed to lose my reason; I became
      insensible, and when I recovered I found myself in my chamber. Your friend
      Corvisart and my poor daughter were with me. Bonaparte came to see me in
      the evening; and oh! Bourrienne, how can I describe to you what I felt at
      the sight of him; even the interest he evinced for me seemed an additional
      cruelty. Alas! I had good reason to fear ever becoming an Empress!"
    
The Emperor's refusal to see me made my situation in Paris very tricky; and at first, I wasn't sure if I should try to meet with Josephine. Duroc, however, assured me that Napoleon wouldn’t mind, so I wrote to request permission to visit her. I got a response the same day, and the next day I went to Malmaison. I was taken into the drawing-room, where I found Josephine and Hortense. As I walked in, Josephine reached out her hand to me, saying, "Ah! my friend!" She spoke those words with deep emotion, and tears stopped her from continuing. She sank onto the ottoman next to the fireplace and motioned for me to sit beside her. Hortense stood by the fireplace, trying to hide her tears. Josephine took my hand and squeezed it tightly with both of hers; after struggling to control her feelings, she said, "My dear Bourrienne, I have suffered enough. He has abandoned me! He gave me the empty title of Empress just to make my fall more obvious. Ah! we judged him correctly! I knew what fate awaited me; what wouldn't he sacrifice for his ambition?" As she finished speaking, one of Queen Hortense's ladies entered with a message for her; Hortense stayed a moment to gather herself before leaving, leaving me alone with Josephine. She seemed eager to share her sorrows, which I was eager to hear straight from her; women have such a memorable way of expressing their struggles. Josephine confirmed what Duroc had told me about the two rooms at Fontainebleau; then, when she got to the moment Bonaparte told her they needed to separate, she said, "My dear Bourrienne; during all the years you were with us, you know I shared my thoughts with you and confided my sad predictions. They are now painfully fulfilled. I played the part of a good wife until the very end. I have endured everything, and I am resigned!… How much strength it took to bear my situation, when, though no longer his wife, I had to appear so to the world! How do courtiers look at a discarded wife? I was in a state of such uncertainty, worse than death, until that fateful day when he finally admitted what I had long read in his eyes! On November 30, 1809, we were having dinner together as usual; I hadn't said a word during that sad meal, and he only broke the silence to ask one of the servants what time it was. As soon as Bonaparte finished his coffee, he dismissed all the attendants, and I was left alone with him. I saw in his expression what he was thinking, and I knew my time had come. He stepped toward me—he was shaking, and I trembled; he took my hand, pressed it to his heart, and after looking at me silently for a moment, he said these fateful words: 'Josephine! my dear Josephine! You know how I have loved you!... To you, and you alone, I owe the only moments of happiness I have had in this world. But, Josephine, my fate cannot be controlled by my will. My deepest affections must yield to the interests of France.'—'Say no more,' I interrupted, 'I understand you; I expected this, but the blow is still devastating.' I couldn’t say another word," Josephine continued; "I don’t know what happened after that—I seemed to lose my mind; I became unconscious, and when I woke up, I was in my room. Your friend Corvisart and my poor daughter were with me. Bonaparte came to see me in the evening; oh! Bourrienne, how can I describe what I felt when I saw him; even his concern for me felt like an additional cruelty. Alas! I had every reason to fear ever becoming an Empress!"







      I knew not what consolation to offer: to Josephine; and knowing as I did
      the natural lightness of her character, I should have been surprised to
      find her grief so acute, after the lapse of a year, had I not been aware
      that there are certain chords which, when struck, do not speedily cease to
      vibrate in the heart of a woman. I sincerely pitied Josephine, and among
      all the things I said to assuage her sorrow, the consolation to which she
      appeared most sensible was the reprobation which public opinion had
      pronounced on Bonaparte's divorce, and on this subject I said nothing but
      the truth, for Josephine was generally beloved. I reminded her of a
      prediction I had made under happier circumstances, viz. on the day that
      she came to visit us in our little house at Ruel. "My dear friend," said
      she, "I have not forgotten it, and I have often thought of all you then
      said. For my part, I knew he was lost from the day he made himself
      Emperor. Adieu! Bourrienne, come and see me soon again; come often, for we
      have a great deal to talk about; you know how happy I always am to see
      you." Such was, to the best of my recollection, what passed at my first
      interview with Josephine after my return from Hamburg.
    
I didn’t know what comfort to offer Josephine; and knowing her natural lightness of spirit, I would have been surprised to see her grief so intense, even after a year, if I hadn’t realized that some emotions don’t fade quickly in a woman’s heart. I truly felt for Josephine, and among everything I said to ease her sadness, the reassurance that seemed to resonate with her most was the disapproval that public opinion had expressed about Bonaparte’s divorce. I spoke only the truth on this matter, as Josephine was widely loved. I reminded her of a prediction I had made during happier times, specifically on the day she visited us in our little house in Ruel. "My dear friend," she said, "I haven’t forgotten it, and I often think back to everything you said. As for me, I knew he was doomed from the moment he became Emperor. Goodbye! Bourrienne, come visit me again soon; come often, because we have a lot to discuss; you know how happy I am to see you." That’s what I remember from my first meeting with Josephine after I returned from Hamburg.








 


 




















      CHAPTER XXIV
    



      1811
    
1811


   Arrest of La Sahla—My visit to him—His confinement at Vincennes—
   Subsequent history of La Sahla—His second journey to France—
   Detonating powder—Plot hatched against me by the Prince of Eckmuhl
   —Friendly offices of the Duc de Rovigo—Bugbears of the police—
   Savary, Minister of Police.

   Arrest of La Sahla—My visit to him—His imprisonment at Vincennes—  
   The later events in La Sahla's life—His second trip to France—  
   Explosive powder—Conspiracy against me by the Prince of Eckmuhl—  
   Support from the Duc de Rovigo—Fears created by the police—  
   Savary, Head of Police.







      I had been in Paris about two months when a young man of the name of La
      Sahla was arrested on the suspicion of having come from Saxony to attempt
      the life of the Emperor. La Sahla informed the Duc de Rovigo, then
      Minister of the Police, that he wished to see me, assigning as a reason
      for this the reputation I had left behind me in Germany. The Emperor, I
      presume, had no objection to the interview, for I received an invitation
      to visit the prisoner. I accordingly repaired to the branch office of the
      Minister of the Police, in the Rue des St. Peres, where I was introduced
      to a young man between seventeen and eighteen years of age.
    
I had been in Paris for about two months when a young man named La Sahla was arrested on suspicion of coming from Saxony to try to kill the Emperor. La Sahla told the Duc de Rovigo, who was the Minister of Police at the time, that he wanted to see me, explaining that it was because of the reputation I had built in Germany. I assume the Emperor didn’t mind the meeting, as I received an invitation to visit the prisoner. I then went to the office of the Minister of Police on Rue des St. Peres, where I was introduced to a young man who looked to be around seventeen or eighteen.







      My conversation with the young man, whose uncle was, I believe, Minister
      to the King of Saxony, interested me greatly in his behalf; I determined,
      if possible, to save La Sahla, and I succeeded. I proceeded immediately to
      the Duc de Rovigo, and I convinced him that under the circumstances of the
      case it was important to make it be believed that the young man was
      insane. I observed that if he were brought before a court he would repeat
      all that he had stated to me, and probably enter into disclosures which
      might instigate fresh attempts at assassination. Perhaps an avenger of La
      Sahla might rise up amongst the students of Leipzig, at which university
      he had spent his youth. These reasons, together with others, had the
      success I hoped for. The Emperor afterwards acknowledged the prudent
      course which had been adopted respecting La Sahla; when speaking at St.
      Helena of the conspiracies against his life he said, "I carefully
      concealed all that I could."
    
My conversation with the young man, whose uncle I think was the Minister to the King of Saxony, really intrigued me on his behalf; I decided, if I could, to save La Sahla, and I did. I went straight to the Duc de Rovigo and convinced him that, given the situation, it was crucial to make people believe the young man was insane. I noted that if he were brought to court, he would likely repeat everything he had told me and possibly share details that could spark more assassination attempts. An avenger for La Sahla might emerge among the students in Leipzig, where he had spent his youth. These reasons, along with others, achieved the success I hoped for. The Emperor later acknowledged the wise decision made regarding La Sahla; when discussing the conspiracies against his life at St. Helena, he said, "I carefully concealed all that I could."







      In conformity with my advice La Sahla was sent to Vincennes, where he
      remained until the end of March 1814, He was then removed to the castle of
      Saumur, from which he was liberated at the beginning of April. I had heard
      nothing of him for three years, when one day, shortly after the
      Restoration, whilst sitting at breakfast with my family at my house in the
      Rue Hauteville, I heard an extraordinary noise in the antechamber, and
      before I had time to ascertain its cause I found myself in the arms. of a
      young man, who embraced me with extraordinary ardour. It was La Sahla. He
      was in a transport of gratitude and joy at his liberation, and at the
      accomplishment of the events which he had wished to accelerate by
      assassination. La Sahla returned to Saxony and I saw no more of him, but
      while I was in Hamburg in 1815, whither I was seat by Louis XVIII., I
      learned that on the 5th of June a violent explosion was heard in the
      Chamber of Representatives at Paris, which was at first supposed to be a
      clap of thunder, but was soon ascertained to have been occasioned by a
      young Samson having fallen with a packet of detonating powder in his
      pocket.
    
Following my advice, La Sahla was sent to Vincennes, where he stayed until the end of March 1814. He was then moved to the castle of Saumur, from which he was released at the beginning of April. I hadn’t heard anything from him for three years until one day, shortly after the Restoration, while I was having breakfast with my family at my house on Rue Hauteville, I heard an incredible noise in the antechamber. Before I could figure out what was happening, I found myself in the arms of a young man who embraced me with great enthusiasm. It was La Sahla. He was overwhelmed with gratitude and joy at his freedom and at the events he had hoped to bring about through assassination. La Sahla returned to Saxony, and I didn’t see him again, but while I was in Hamburg in 1815, sent there by Louis XVIII, I learned that on June 5th, a loud explosion was heard in the Chamber of Representatives in Paris. Initially thought to be thunder, it was soon revealed to have been caused by a young man who had fallen with a packet of detonating powder in his pocket.







      On receiving this intelligence I imagined, I know not why, that this young
      Saxon was La Sahla, and that he had probably intended to blow up Napoleon
      and even the Legislative Body; but I have since ascertained that I was
      under a mistake as to his intentions. My knowledge of La Sahla's candour
      induces me to believe the truth of his declarations to the police; and if
      there be any inaccuracies in the report of these declarations I do not
      hesitate to attribute them to the police itself, of which Fouché was the
      head at the period in question.
    
Upon receiving this information, I imagined—though I'm not sure why—that this young Saxon was La Sahla, and that he probably intended to blow up Napoleon and even the Legislative Body. However, I have since found out that I was mistaken about his intentions. My understanding of La Sahla's honesty leads me to trust what he told the police; and if there are any inaccuracies in the report of his statements, I have no doubt that they stem from the police itself, which Fouché was leading at that time.







      It is the latter part of the report which induced me to observe above,
      that if there were any inaccuracies in the statement they were more likely
      to proceed from Fouché's police than the false representations of young La
      Sahla. It is difficult to give credit without proof to such accusations.
      However, I decide nothing; but I consider it my duty to express doubts of
      the truth of these charges brought against the two Prussian ministers, of
      whom the Prince of Wittgenstein, a man of undoubted honour, has always
      spoken to me in the best of terms.
    
It's the latter part of the report that led me to mention above that if there are any inaccuracies in the statement, they're more likely to come from Fouché's police rather than from the misleading claims of young La Sahla. It's hard to believe such accusations without proof. However, I’m not making any decisions; I just feel it's my responsibility to express doubts about the truth of these charges against the two Prussian ministers, particularly since the Prince of Wittgenstein, a man of unquestionable honor, has always spoken highly of them to me.







      There is nothing to prove that La Sahla returned to France the second time
      with the same intentions as before. This project, however, is a mystery to
      me, and his detonating powder gives rise to many conjectures.
    
There’s no evidence that La Sahla returned to France for the second time with the same intentions as before. This project, though, is a mystery to me, and his explosive powder leads to a lot of speculations.







      I had scarcely left Hamburg when the Prince of Eckmuhl (Marshal Davoust)
      was appointed Governor-General of that place on the union of the Hanse
      Towns with the Empire. From that period I was constantly occupied in
      contending against the persecutions and denunciations which he racked his
      imagination to invent. I cannot help attributing to those persecutions the
      Emperor's coolness towards me on my arrival in Paris. But as Davoust's
      calumnies were devoid of proof, he resorted to a scheme by which a certain
      appearance of probability might supply the place of truth. When I arrived
      in Paris, at the commencement of 1811, I was informed by an excellent
      friend I had left at Hamburg, M. Bouvier, an emigrant, and one of the
      hostages of Louis XVI., that in a few days I would receive a letter which
      would commit me, and likewise M. de Talleyrand and General Rapp. I had
      never had any connection on matters of business, with either of these
      individuals, for whom I entertained the most sincere attachment. They,
      like myself, were not in the good graces of Marshal Davoust, who could not
      pardon the one for his incontestable superiority of talent, and the other
      for his blunt honesty. On the receipt of M. Bouvier's letter I carried it
      to the Duc de Rovigo, whose situation made him perfectly aware of the
      intrigues which had been carried on against me since I had left Hamburg by
      one whose ambition aspired to the Viceroyalty of Poland. On that, as on
      many other similar occasions, the Duc de Rovigo advocated my cause with
      Napoleon. We agreed that it would be best to await the arrival of the
      letter which M. Bouvier had announced. Three weeks elapsed, and the letter
      did not appear. The Duc de Rovigo, therefore, told me that I must have
      been misinformed. However, I was certain that M. Bouvier would not have
      sent me the information on slight grounds, and I therefore supposed that
      the project had only been delayed. I was not wrong in my conjecture, for
      at length the letter arrived. To what a depth of infamy men can descend!
      The letter was from a man whom I had known at Hamburg, whom I had obliged,
      whom I had employed as a spy. His epistle was a miracle of impudence.
      After relating some extraordinary transactions which he said had taken
      place between us, and which all bore the stamp of falsehood, he requested
      me to send him by return of post the sum of 60,000 francs on account of
      what I had promised him for some business he executed in England by the
      direction of M. de Talleyrand, General Rapp, and myself. Such miserable
      wretches are often caught in the snares they spread for others. This was
      the case in the present instance, for the fellow had committed, the
      blunder of fixing upon the year 1802 as the period of this pretended
      business in England, that is to say, two years before my appointment as
      Minister-Plenipotentiary to the Hanse Towns. This anachronism was not the
      only one I discovered in the letter.
    
I had barely left Hamburg when the Prince of Eckmuhl (Marshal Davoust) was made Governor-General of that place after the Hanse Towns joined the Empire. From that moment on, I was constantly busy fighting against the persecution and accusations he conjured up. I can’t help but think those persecutions contributed to the Emperor's indifference towards me when I arrived in Paris. But since Davoust's slanders had no proof, he came up with a scheme to create the illusion of credibility in place of truth. When I arrived in Paris at the start of 1811, I was told by a good friend I had left in Hamburg, M. Bouvier, an emigrant and one of the hostages of Louis XVI, that I would soon receive a letter that would implicate both me and M. de Talleyrand and General Rapp. I had never dealt with either of them in any business matters, and I had genuine affection for both. Like me, they were also out of favor with Marshal Davoust, who couldn’t forgive one for his undeniable talent and the other for his straightforward honesty. Upon receiving M. Bouvier's letter, I took it to the Duc de Rovigo, who was well aware of the schemes against me since I left Hamburg, driven by someone whose ambitions aimed for the Viceroyalty of Poland. As on many other similar occasions, the Duc de Rovigo supported my case with Napoleon. We agreed it was best to wait for the arrival of the letter M. Bouvier had mentioned. Three weeks went by without the letter showing up. The Duc de Rovigo told me that I must have been misinformed. However, I was sure M. Bouvier wouldn’t have given me that information without good reason, so I figured the project had just been delayed. I was right, as the letter finally arrived. It's astonishing how low people can sink! The letter was from a man I had known in Hamburg, whom I had helped and had employed as a spy. His letter was outrageous. After recounting some incredible events he claimed had occurred between us that were nothing but lies, he asked me to send him back 60,000 francs for what I supposedly promised him for some business he did in England at the direction of M. de Talleyrand, General Rapp, and myself. Such despicable people often end up ensnared in the traps they set for others. This was the case here, as the guy made the mistake of claiming this supposed business in England happened in 1802, which was two years before I became Minister-Plenipotentiary to the Hanse Towns. This anachronism wasn’t the only one I found in the letter.







      I took a copy of the letter, and immediately carried the original to the
      Duc de Rovigo, as had been agreed between us. When I waited on the
      Minister he was just preparing to go to the Emperor. He took with him the
      letter which I brought, and also the letter which announced its arrival.
      As the Duc de Rovigo entered the audience-chamber Napoleon advanced to
      meet him, and apostrophised him thus: "Well, I have learned fine things of
      your Bourrienne, whom you are always defending." The fact was, the Emperor
      had already received a copy of the letter, which had been opened at the
      Hamburg post-office. The Duc de Rovigo told the Emperor that he had long
      known what his Majesty had communicated to him. He then entered into a
      full explanation of the intrigue, of which it was wished to render me the
      victim, and proved to him the more easily the falsehood of my accusers by
      reminding him that in 1802 I was not in Hamburg, but was still in his
      service at home.
    
I took a copy of the letter and then immediately brought the original to the Duc de Rovigo, as we had agreed. When I met the Minister, he was getting ready to go see the Emperor. He took the letter I brought along with the one that announced its arrival. As the Duc de Rovigo entered the audience chamber, Napoleon stepped forward to greet him and said, "Well, I've heard some interesting things about your Bourrienne, whom you always defend." The truth was, the Emperor had already received a copy of the letter, which had been opened at the Hamburg post office. The Duc de Rovigo informed the Emperor that he had known for a long time what His Majesty had communicated to him. He then provided a full explanation of the plot that aimed to make me its victim, and he made it easy to show the falsehood of my accusers by reminding the Emperor that in 1802, I was not in Hamburg but was still serving him back home.







      It may be supposed that I was too much interested in knowing what had
      passed at the Tuileries not to return to the Duc de Rovigo the same day. I
      learned from him the particulars which I have already related. He added
      that he had observed to the Emperor that there was no connection between
      Rapp and M. Talleyrand which could warrant the suspicion of their being
      concerned in the affair in question. "When Napoleon saw the matter in its
      true light," said Savary, "when I proved to him the palpable existence of
      the odious machination, he could not find terms to express his
      indignation. 'What baseness, what horrible villainy!' he exclaimed; and
      gave me orders to arrest and bring to Paris the infamous writer of the
      letter; and you may rely upon it his orders shall be promptly obeyed."
    
I was definitely too curious about what happened at the Tuileries not to go see the Duc de Rovigo the same day. He filled me in on the details I've already shared. He also mentioned that he pointed out to the Emperor that there was no link between Rapp and M. Talleyrand that would justify any suspicion of their involvement in the matter. "When Napoleon understood the situation," Savary said, "when I showed him the clear existence of the despicable plot, he couldn't find the words to express his outrage. 'What a disgrace, what horrible treachery!' he shouted; and he ordered me to arrest and bring the infamous writer of the letter to Paris; you can count on it that his orders will be carried out without delay."







      Savary, as he had said, instantly despatched orders for the arrest of the
      writer, whom he directed to be sent to France. On his arrival he was
      interrogated respecting the letter. He declared that he had written it at
      the instigation and under the dictation of Marshal Davoust, for doing
      which he received a small sum of money as a reward. He also confessed that
      when the letter was put into the post the Prince of Eckmuhl ordered the
      Director of the Post to open it, take a copy, then seal it again, and send
      it to its address—that is to say, to me—and the copy to the
      Emperor. The writer of the letter was banished to Marseilles, or to the
      Island of Hyeres, but the individual who dictated it continued a Marshal,
      a Prince, and a Governor-General, and still looked forward to the
      Viceroyalty of Poland! Such was the discriminating justice of the Empire;
      and Davoust continued his endeavours to revenge himself by other calumnies
      for my not having considered him a man of talent. I must do the Duc de
      Rovigo the justice to say that, though his fidelity to Napoleon was as it
      always had been, boundless, yet whilst he executed the Emperor's orders he
      endeavoured to make him acquainted with the truth, as was proved by his
      conduct in the case I have just mentioned. He was much distressed by the
      sort of terror which his appointment had excited in the public, and he
      acknowledged to me that he intended to restore confidence by a more mild
      system than that of his predecessor. I had observed formerly that Savary
      did not coincide in the opinion I had always entertained of Fouché, but
      when once the Duc de Rovigo endeavoured to penetrate the labyrinth of
      police, counter-police, inspections and hierarchies of espionage, he found
      they were all bugbears which Fouché had created to alarm the Emperor, as
      gardeners put up scarecrows among the fruit-trees to frighten away the
      sparrows. Thus, thanks to the artifices of Fouché, the eagle was
      frightened as easily as the sparrows, until the period when the Emperor,
      convinced that Fouché was maintaining a correspondence with England
      through the agency of Ouvrard, dismissed him.
    
Savary, as he said, quickly sent orders to arrest the writer and have him sent to France. When he arrived, he was questioned about the letter. He admitted that he had written it on the instructions of Marshal Davoust, for which he received a small payment as a reward. He also confessed that when the letter was mailed, the Prince of Eckmuhl instructed the Director of the Post to open it, make a copy, seal it again, and send it to me while sending the copy to the Emperor. The writer of the letter was exiled to Marseilles or the Island of Hyeres, but the person who dictated it remained a Marshal, a Prince, and a Governor-General, still hoping for the Viceroyalty of Poland! Such was the selective justice of the Empire; and Davoust continued his efforts to take revenge through other slanders because I hadn’t regarded him as a talented individual. I must give credit to the Duc de Rovigo, as his loyalty to Napoleon had always been unwavering; yet, while he carried out the Emperor's orders, he tried to inform him of the truth, as shown by his actions in the case I just mentioned. He was very troubled by the fear his appointment had caused among the public and admitted to me that he planned to restore confidence with a gentler approach than that of his predecessor. I had noted before that Savary did not share my opinion on Fouché, but once the Duc de Rovigo attempted to navigate the maze of police, counter-police, inspections, and espionage hierarchies, he discovered they were all phantoms created by Fouché to unsettle the Emperor, much like gardeners set up scarecrows in fruit orchards to scare away sparrows. Thus, thanks to Fouché's tricks, the eagle was frightened just as easily as the sparrows until the time when the Emperor, convinced that Fouché was communicating with England through Ouvrard, dismissed him.







      I saw with pleasure that Savary, the Minister of Police, wished to
      simplify the working of his administration, and to gradually diminish
      whatever was annoying in it, but, whatever might be his intentions, he was
      not always free to act. I acknowledge that when I read his Memoirs I saw
      with great impatience that in many matters he had voluntarily assumed
      responsibilities for acts which a word from him might have attributed to
      their real author. However this may be, what much pleased me in Savary was
      the wish he showed to learn the real truth in order to tell it to
      Napoleon. He received from the Emperor more than one severe rebuff. This
      came from the fact that since the immense aggrandisement of the Empire the
      ostensible Ministers, instead of rising in credit, had seen their
      functions diminish by degrees. Thus proposals for appointments to the
      higher grades of the army came from the cabinet of Berthier, and not from
      that of the Minister-of-War. Everything which concerned any part of the
      government of the Interior or of the Exterior, except for the
      administration of War and perhaps for that of Finance, had its centre in
      the cabinet of M. Maret, certainly an honest man, but whose facility in
      saying "All is right," so much helped to make all wrong.
    
I was pleased to see that Savary, the Minister of Police, wanted to streamline his administration and gradually reduce its annoyances, but no matter his intentions, he wasn't always able to act freely. I admit that when I read his Memoirs, I felt impatient because in many cases, he willingly took responsibility for actions that a simple word from him could have assigned to their true author. Despite that, what I appreciated about Savary was his desire to learn the real truth so he could share it with Napoleon. He faced more than one harsh rebuke from the Emperor. This was partly due to the fact that since the Empire expanded greatly, the visible Ministers, instead of gaining prestige, had seen their roles diminish gradually. Proposals for promotions to the higher ranks of the army came from Berthier's office, not from the Minister of War's. Everything related to the Interior or Exterior government, except for the administration of War and perhaps Finance, was centered in M. Maret’s office, who was certainly an honest man but whose tendency to say "All is right" contributed significantly to making everything wrong.







      The home trade, manufactures, and particularly several of the Parisian
      firms were in a state of distress the more hurtful as it contrasted so
      singularly with the splendour of the Imperial Court since the marriage of
      Napoleon with Maria Louisa. In this state of affairs a chorus of
      complaints reached the ears of the Duc de Rovigo every day. I must say
      that Savary was never kinder to me than since my disgrace; he nourished my
      hope of getting Napoleon to overcome the prejudices against me with which
      the spirit of vengeance had inspired him, and I know for certain that
      Savary returned to the charge more than once to manage this. The Emperor
      listened without anger, did not blame him for the closeness of our
      intimacy, and even said to him some obliging but insignificant words about
      me. This gave time for new machinations against me, and to fill him with
      fresh doubts when he had almost overcome his former, ideas.
    
The local trade, manufacturing, and especially many of the Parisian companies were struggling, which was even more painful given the contrast with the lavishness of the Imperial Court since Napoleon married Maria Louisa. Amidst this situation, a steady stream of complaints reached Duc de Rovigo every day. I must say that Savary was never kinder to me than after my fall from grace; he fueled my hope that Napoleon would overcome the prejudices against me that vengeance had instilled in him, and I know for sure that Savary pressed the issue more than once. The Emperor listened without anger, didn’t blame him for our close relationship, and even said a few pleasant but trivial things about me. This allowed time for new schemes against me, filling him with fresh doubts just when he was starting to shake off his earlier thoughts.








 


 




















      CHAPTER XXV.
    






   M. Czernischeff—Dissimulation of Napoleon—Napoleon and Alexander—
   Josephine's foresight respecting the affairs of Spain—My visits to
   Malmaison—Grief of Josephine—Tears and the toilet—Vast extent of
   the Empire—List of persons condemned to death and banishment in
   Piedmont—Observation of Alfieri respecting the Spaniards—Success
   in Spain—Check of Massena in Portugal—Money lavished by the
   English—Bertrand sent to Illyria, and Marmont to Portugal—
   Situation of the French army—Assembling of the Cortes—Europe
   sacrificed to the Continental system—Conversation with Murat in the
   Champs Elysees—New titles and old names—Napoleon's dislike of
   literary men—Odes, etc., on the marriage of Napoleon—Chateaubriand
   and Lemereier—Death of Chenier—Chateaubriand elected his successor
   —His discourse read by Napoleon—Bonaparte compared to Nero—
   Suppression of the 'Merceure'—M. de Chateaubriand ordered to leave
   Paris—MM. Lemercier and Esmenard presented to the Emperor—Birth of
   the King of Rome—France in 1811.

   M. Czernischeff—Deception of Napoleon—Napoleon and Alexander—Josephine's insight about the situation in Spain—My visits to Malmaison—Josephine's sorrow—Tears and getting ready—The vast extent of the Empire—List of people sentenced to death and exile in Piedmont—Alfieri’s comments on the Spaniards—Success in Spain—Massena's setbacks in Portugal—Money spent by the English—Bertrand sent to Illyria, and Marmont to Portugal—The situation of the French army—Meeting of the Cortes—Europe sacrificed for the Continental system—Discussion with Murat in the Champs Elysees—New titles and old names—Napoleon's disdain for literary figures—Odes, etc., on Napoleon's marriage—Chateaubriand and Lemereier—Death of Chenier—Chateaubriand elected as his successor—His speech read by Napoleon—Bonaparte compared to Nero—Censorship of the 'Merceure'—M. de Chateaubriand ordered to leave Paris—MM. Lemercier and Esmenard introduced to the Emperor—Birth of the King of Rome—France in 1811.







      Since my return to France I had heard much of the intrigues of M.
      Czernischeff, an aide de camp of the Emperor of Russia, who, under the
      pretext of being frequently sent to compliment Napoleon on the part of the
      Emperor Alexander, performed, in fact, the office of a spy. The conduct of
      Napoleon with regard to M. Czernischeff at that period struck me as
      singular, especially after the intelligence which before my departure from
      Hamburg I had transmitted to him respecting the dissatisfaction of Russia
      and her hostile inclinations. It is therefore clear to me that Bonaparte
      was well aware of the real object of M. Czernischeffs mission, and that if
      he appeared to give credit to the increasing professions of his friendship
      it was only because he still wished, as he formerly did; that Russia might
      so far commit herself as to afford him a fair pretext for the
      commencement, of hostilities in the north.
    
Since I returned to France, I had heard a lot about the schemes of M. Czernischeff, an aide-de-camp to the Emperor of Russia. He often claimed he was sent to pay compliments to Napoleon on behalf of Emperor Alexander, but in reality, he was acting as a spy. Napoleon's behavior towards M. Czernischeff during that time seemed unusual to me, especially after I had passed on information before leaving Hamburg regarding Russia's dissatisfaction and hostile intentions. It’s clear to me that Bonaparte was fully aware of M. Czernischeff's true mission, and if he seemed to trust the growing expressions of friendship, it was only because he still hoped, as he had before, that Russia would entangle itself enough to give him a legitimate reason to start hostilities in the north.







      M. Czernischeff first arrived in Paris shortly after the interview at
      Erfurt, and after that period was almost constantly on the road between
      Paris and St. Petersburg; it has been computed that in the space of less
      than four years he travelled more than 10,000 leagues. For a long time his
      frequent journeyings excited no surmises, but while I was in Paris Savary
      began to entertain suspicions, the correctness of which it was not
      difficult to ascertain, so formidable was still the system of espionage,
      notwithstanding the precaution taken by Fouché to conceal from his
      successor the names of his most efficient spies. It was known that M.
      Czernischeff was looking out for a professor of mathematics,—doubtless
      to disguise the real motives for his stay in Paris by veiling them under
      the desire of studying the sciences. The confidant of Alexander had
      applied to a professor connected with a public office; and from that time
      all the steps of M. Czerniseheff were known to the police. It was
      discovered that he was less anxious to question his instructor respecting
      the equations of a degree, or the value of unknown quantities, than to
      gain all the information he could about the different branches of the
      administration, and particularly the department of war. It happened that
      the professor knew some individuals employed in the public offices, who
      furnished him with intelligence, which he in turn communicated to M.
      Czernischeff, but not without making a report of it to the police;
      according to custom, instead of putting an end to this intrigue at once it
      was suffered fully to develop itself. Napoleon was informed of what was
      going on, and in this instance gave a new proof of his being an adept in
      the art of dissimulation, for, instead of testifying any displeasure
      against M. Czernischeff, he continued to receive him with the same marks
      of favour which he had shown to him during his former missions to Paris.
      Being, nevertheless, desirous to get rid of him, without evincing a
      suspicion that his clandestine proceedings had been discovered, he
      entrusted him with a friendly letter to his brother of Russia, but
      Alexander was in such haste to reply to the flattering missive of his
      brother of France that M. Czernischeff was hurried back to Paris, having
      scarcely been suffered to enter the gates of St. Petersburg. I believe I
      am correct in the idea that Napoleon was not really displeased at the
      intrigues of M. Czernischeff, from the supposition that they afforded an
      indication of the hostile intentions of Russia towards France; for,
      whatever he might say on this subject to his confidants, what reliance can
      we place on the man who formed the camp of Boulogne without the most
      distant intention of attempting a descent upon England, and who had
      deceived the whole world respecting that important affair without taking
      any one into his own confidence?
    
M. Czernischeff first arrived in Paris shortly after the interview in Erfurt, and after that, he was almost constantly traveling between Paris and St. Petersburg; it has been estimated that in less than four years he traveled over 10,000 leagues. For a long time, his frequent trips raised no suspicions, but while I was in Paris, Savary began to have doubts, which were easy to confirm due to the still formidable system of espionage, despite Fouché’s efforts to hide the names of his most effective spies from his successor. It was known that M. Czernischeff was searching for a mathematics professor—likely to mask his true intentions in Paris as a desire to study sciences. The confidant of Alexander had approached a professor connected to a public office; from that point on, all of M. Czernischeff's moves were tracked by the police. It became clear that he was less interested in questions about polynomial equations or the value of unknown quantities than in gathering as much information as he could about various branches of the administration, especially the war department. The professor happened to know some people working in public offices who provided him with information, which he then relayed to M. Czernischeff, but not before reporting it to the police; as was customary, instead of stopping this intrigue right away, it was allowed to fully unfold. Napoleon was informed of what was happening and, in this case, demonstrated his skill in the art of deception, as he showed no displeasure toward M. Czernischeff and continued to treat him with the same favors he had shown him during previous missions to Paris. Nonetheless, wanting to get rid of him without revealing any suspicion that his secret activities had been uncovered, he gave him a friendly letter to his brother in Russia, but Alexander was so eager to respond to his brother's flattering message that M. Czernischeff was rushed back to Paris, barely having set foot in St. Petersburg. I believe I’m correct in thinking that Napoleon wasn’t genuinely irritated by M. Czernischeff's intrigue, assuming it indicated Russia's hostile intentions toward France; after all, what trust can we place in the man who built the camp at Boulogne without any real intention of invading England and misled everyone about that significant matter without confiding in anyone?







      During the period of my stay in Paris the war with Spain and Portugal
      occupied much of the public attention; and it proved in the end an
      enterprise upon which the intuition of Josephine had not deceived her. In
      general she intermeddled little with political affairs; in the first
      place, because her doing so would have given offence to Napoleon; and
      next, because her natural frivolity led her to give a preference to
      lighter pursuits. But I may safely affirm that she was endowed with an
      instinct so perfect as seldom to be deceived respecting the good or evil
      tendency of any measure which Napoleon engaged in; and I remember she told
      me that when informed of the intention of the Emperor to bestow the throne
      of Spain on Joseph, she was seized with a feeling of indescribable alarm.
      It would be difficult to define that instinctive feeling which leads us to
      foresee the future; but it is a fact that Josephine was endowed with this
      faculty in a more perfect decree than any other person I have ever known,
      and to her it was a fatal gift, for she suffered at the same time under
      the weight of present and of future misfortunes.
    
During my time in Paris, the war with Spain and Portugal captured a lot of public attention, and it turned out to be an endeavor that Josephine's intuition did not misjudge. Generally, she stayed out of political matters; first, because getting involved would have upset Napoleon, and second, because her natural lightheartedness made her prefer more trivial pursuits. However, I can confidently say that she had an instinct that rarely led her wrong about the potential benefits or drawbacks of any action Napoleon took. I remember her telling me that when she heard about the Emperor's plan to give the throne of Spain to Joseph, she felt an overwhelming sense of dread. It's hard to articulate that instinctive feeling that allows us to anticipate the future, but the truth is that Josephine possessed this ability more acutely than anyone else I've known, and it was a tragic gift for her, as she endured the burden of both present and future misfortunes.







      I often visited her at Malmaison, as Duroc assured me that the Emperor had
      no objection to my doing so; yet he must have been fully aware that when
      Josephine and I were in confidential conversation he would not always be
      mentioned in terms of unqualified eulogy; and in truth, his first friend
      and his first wife might well be excused for sometimes commingling their
      complaints.
    
I often visited her at Malmaison, since Duroc assured me that the Emperor didn’t mind; yet he must have known that when Josephine and I were having private conversations, he wouldn’t always be spoken of in glowing terms. In reality, his closest friend and his first wife could understandably mix their grievances from time to time.







      Though more than a twelvemonth had elapsed since the divorce grief still
      preyed on the heart of Josephine. "You cannot conceive, my friend," she
      often said to me, "all the torments that I have suffered since that fatal
      day! I cannot imagine how I survived it. You cannot figure to yourself the
      pain I endure on seeing descriptions of his fetes everywhere. And the
      first time he came to visit me after his marriage, what a meeting was
      that! How many tears I shed! The days on which he comes are to me days of
      misery, for he spares me not. How cruel to speak of his expected heir.
      Bourrienne, you cannot conceive how heart-rending all this is to me!
      Better, far better to be exiled a thousand leagues from hence! However,"
      added Josephine, "a few friends still remain faithful in my changed
      fortune, and that is now the only thing which affords me even temporary
      consolation." The truth is that she was extremely unhappy, and the most
      acceptable consolation her friends could offer her was to weep with her.
      Yet such was still Josephine's passion for dress, that after. having wept
      for a quarter of an hour she would dry her tears to give audience to
      milliners and jewellers. The sight of a new hat would call forth all
      Josephine's feminine love of finery. One day I remember that, taking
      advantage of the momentary serenity occasioned by an ample display of
      sparkling gewgaws, I congratulated her upon the happy influence they
      exercised over her spirits, when she said, "My dear friend, I ought,
      indeed, to be indifferent to all this; but it is a habit." Josephine might
      have added that it was also an occupation, for it would be no exaggeration
      to say that if the time she wasted in tears and at her toilet had been
      subtracted from her life its duration would have been considerably
      shortened.
    
Even though more than a year had passed since the divorce, grief still weighed heavily on Josephine's heart. "You can't imagine, my friend," she often told me, "the torment I've endured since that fateful day! I can't believe I survived it. You can't understand the pain I feel seeing descriptions of his parties everywhere. And when he first came to see me after his marriage, what a meeting that was! I cried so much! The days he visits are miserable for me because he holds nothing back. How cruel to talk about his expected heir. Bourrienne, you can't grasp how heart-wrenching all this is for me! It would be far better to be exiled a thousand leagues away! However," Josephine added, "a few friends still remain loyal through my changed circumstances, and that's the only thing that gives me even a little comfort." The truth is, she was extremely unhappy, and the best comfort her friends could provide was to cry with her. Yet, Josephine still had a strong passion for fashion, and after crying for about fifteen minutes, she would dry her tears to meet with milliners and jewelers. The sight of a new hat would awaken all of Josephine's feminine love for style. One day I remember, taking advantage of her momentary cheer from a display of sparkling trinkets, I congratulated her on the happy effect they had on her mood. She replied, "My dear friend, I really should be indifferent to all this; but it's a habit." Josephine could have added that it was also a distraction, because it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that if the time she spent crying and getting ready had been taken from her life, her time would have been considerably shorter.







      The vast extent of the French Empire now presented a spectacle which
      resembled rather the dominion of the Romans and the conquests of
      Charlemagne than the usual form and political changes of modern Europe. In
      fact, for nearly two centuries, until the period of the Revolution, and
      particularly until the elevation of Napoleon, no remarkable changes had
      taken place in the boundaries of European States, if we except the
      partition of Poland, when two of the co-partitioners committed the error
      of turning the tide of Russia towards the west! Under Napoleon everything
      was overturned with astonishing rapidity: customs, manners, laws, were
      superseded
    
The vast reach of the French Empire now looked more like the rule of the Romans and the conquests of Charlemagne than the usual style and political changes of modern Europe. In fact, for almost two centuries, until the time of the Revolution, and especially until Napoleon rose to power, there hadn’t been any significant changes in the borders of European countries, except for the partition of Poland, when two of the partitioning countries made the mistake of directing Russia toward the west! Under Napoleon, everything was transformed at an astonishing pace: customs, behaviors, and laws were replaced.






 —[The so-called "French" armies of the time, drawn from all parts
   of the Empire and from the dependent States, represented the
   extraordinary fusion attempted by Napoleon. Thus, at the battle of
   Ocana there were at least troops of the following States, viz.
   Warsaw, Holland, Baden, Nassau, Hesse-Darmstadt, Frankfort, besides
   the Spaniards in Joseph's service. A Spanish division went to
   Denmark, the regiment from Isembourg was sent to Naples, while the
   Neapolitans crossed to Spain. Even the little Valais had to furnish
   a battalion. Blacks from San Domingo served in Naples, while
   sixteen nations, like so many chained dogs, advanced into Russia.
   Such troops could not have the spirit of a homogeneous army.

   Already, in 1808, Metternich had written from Paris to his Court,
   "It is no longer the nation that fights: the present war (Spain) is
   Napoleon's war; it is not even that of his army." But Napoleon
   himself was aware of the danger of the Empire from its own extent.
   In the silence of his cabinet his secretary Meneval sometimes heard
   him murmur, "L'arc est trop longtemps tendu."]— 
—[The so-called "French" armies of that time, made up of troops from all over the Empire and from dependent states, represented the amazing mix that Napoleon tried to create. At the battle of Ocana, there were troops from at least the following places: Warsaw, Holland, Baden, Nassau, Hesse-Darmstadt, Frankfort, along with the Spaniards in Joseph's service. A Spanish division went to Denmark, the regiment from Isembourg was sent to Naples, while the Neapolitans moved over to Spain. Even the small Valais had to send a battalion. Black soldiers from San Domingo served in Naples, and soldiers from sixteen different nations, like a pack of chained dogs, advanced into Russia. Such troops could not possess the spirit of a unified army.

   As early as 1808, Metternich wrote from Paris to his court, "It is no longer the nation that fights: the current war (in Spain) is Napoleon's war; it doesn't even belong to his army." But Napoleon himself understood the risk that the Empire faced because of its own size. In the quiet of his office, his secretary Meneval sometimes heard him whisper, "The bow is drawn too tightly."]—







      by new customs, new manners, and new laws, imposed by force, and forming a
      heterogeneous whole, which could not fail to dissolve, as soon as the
      influence of the power which had created it should cease to operate. Such
      was the state of Italy that I have been informed by an individual worthy
      of credit that if the army of Prince Eugène, instead of being victorious,
      had been beaten on the Piava, a deeply-organised revolution would have
      broken out in Piedmont, and even in the Kingdom of Italy, where,
      nevertheless, the majority of the people fully appreciated the excellent
      qualities of Eugène. I have been also credibly informed that lists were in
      readiness designating those of the French who were to be put to death, as
      well as those by whom the severe orders of the Imperial Government had
      been mitigated, and who were only to be banished. In fact, revolt was as
      natural to the Italians as submission to the Germans, and as the fury of
      despair to the Spanish nation. On this subject I may cite an observation
      contained in one of the works of Alfieri, published fifteen years before
      the Spanish war. Taking a cursory view of the different European nations
      he regarded—the Spaniards as the only people possessed of
      "sufficient energy to struggle against foreign usurpation." Had I still
      been near the person of Napoleon I would most assuredly have resorted to
      an innocent artifice, which I had several times employed, and placed the
      work of Alfieri on his table open at the page I wished him to read.
      Alfieri's opinion of the Spanish people was in the end fully verified; and
      I confess I cannot think without shuddering of the torrents of blood which
      inundated the Peninsula; and for what? To make Joseph Bonaparte a King!
    
by new customs, new manners, and new laws, imposed by force, creating a mixed entity that would inevitably fall apart once the influence of the power that created it faded away. Such was the situation in Italy that I've heard from a reliable source that if Prince Eugène's army had lost at Piava instead of winning, a well-organized revolution would have erupted in Piedmont, and even throughout the Kingdom of Italy, where most people actually recognized Eugène's great qualities. I’ve also been reliably informed that there were lists prepared naming the French who were to be executed and those whose harsh orders from the Imperial Government had been softened and who were only to be exiled. In reality, revolt was as natural for the Italians as submission was to the Germans, and as despair was to the Spanish. On this topic, I can reference a remark from one of Alfieri’s works, published fifteen years prior to the Spanish war. He viewed the different European nations and considered the Spaniards the only people with "enough energy to fight against foreign oppression." Had I still been close to Napoleon, I would definitely have used a clever tactic I had employed several times before, and opened Alfieri's work on his table to the page I wanted him to see. Alfieri's assessment of the Spanish people eventually proved to be correct; and I must admit I can't think without shuddering at the rivers of blood that flowed in the Peninsula; and for what? To install Joseph Bonaparte as king!







      The commencement of 1811 was sufficiently favourable to the French arms in
      Spain, but towards the beginning of March the aspect of affairs changed.
      The Duke of Belluno, notwithstanding the valour of his troops, was
      unsuccessful at Chiclana; and from that day the French army could not make
      head against the combined forces of England and Portugal. Even Massena,
      notwithstanding the title of Prince of Eslingen (or Essling), which he had
      won under the walls of Vienna, was no longer "the favourite child of
      victory" as he had been at Zurich.
    
The start of 1811 was quite favorable for the French forces in Spain, but by early March, the situation changed. The Duke of Belluno, despite the bravery of his troops, was defeated at Chiclana; from that point on, the French army struggled against the combined forces of England and Portugal. Even Massena, despite holding the title of Prince of Eslingen (or Essling), which he earned at the walls of Vienna, was no longer seen as "the favorite child of victory" as he had been at Zurich.







      Having mentioned Massena I may observe that he did not favour the change
      of the French Government on the foundation of the Empire. Massena loved
      two things, glory and money; but as to what is termed honours, he only
      valued those which resulted from the command of an army; and his
      recollections all bound him to the Republic, because the Republic recalled
      to his mind the most brilliant and glorious events of his military career.
      He was, besides, among the number of the Marshals who wished to see a
      limit put to the ambition of Bonaparte; and he had assuredly done enough,
      since the commencement of the wars of the Republic, to be permitted to
      enjoy some repose, which his health at that period required. What could he
      achieve against the English in Portugal? The combined forces of England
      and Portugal daily augmented, while ours diminished. No efforts were
      spared by England to gain a superiority in the great struggle in which she
      was engaged; as her money was lavished profusely, her troops paid well
      wherever they went, and were abundantly supplied with ammunition and
      provisions: the French army was compelled, though far from possessing such
      ample means, to purchase at the same high rate, in order to keep the
      natives from joining the English party. But even this did not prevent
      numerous partial insurrections in different places, which rendered all
      communication with France extremely difficult. Armed bands continually
      carried off our dispersed soldiers; and the presence of the British
      troops, supported by the money they spent in the country, excited the
      inhabitants against us; for it is impossible to suppose that, unsupported
      by the English, Portugal could have held out a single moment against
      France. But battles, bad weather, and even want, had so reduced the French
      force that it was absolutely necessary our troops should repose when their
      enterprises could lead to no results. In this state of things Massena was
      recalled, because his health was so materially injured as to render it
      impossible for him to exert sufficient activity to restore the army to a
      respectable footing.
    
Having mentioned Massena, I should note that he did not support the change of the French government to an empire. Massena valued two things: glory and money. However, when it came to honors, he only esteemed those that came from commanding an army. His memories were tied to the Republic, as it reminded him of the most brilliant and glorious moments of his military career. Furthermore, he was among the Marshals who wanted to limit Bonaparte's ambition. He had certainly done enough since the start of the Republic's wars to deserve some rest, which his health at that time required. What could he accomplish against the English in Portugal? The combined forces of England and Portugal grew daily, while ours dwindled. England made every effort to gain an advantage in the huge struggle it was involved in; it generously funded its troops, who were well-paid wherever they went, and provided them with ample ammunition and supplies. The French army, far from having such resources, was forced to buy supplies at the same inflated prices to prevent the locals from joining the English side. Yet, this did not stop numerous minor uprisings in various areas, making communication with France extremely difficult. Armed groups frequently captured our scattered soldiers, and the presence of British troops, fueled by the money they spent in the country, incited the local population against us. It’s hard to believe that, without English support, Portugal could have resisted France for even a moment. However, battles, bad weather, and even shortages had so depleted the French forces that it became necessary for our troops to rest when their efforts were unlikely to yield any results. Given these circumstances, Massena was recalled because his health had deteriorated to the point where he could not take the necessary actions to restore the army to a respectable condition.







      Under these circumstances Bonaparte sent Bertrand into Illyria to take the
      place of Marmont, who was ordered in his turn to relieve Massena and take
      command of the French army in Portugal Marmont on assuming the command
      found the troops in a deplorable state. The difficulty of procuring
      provisions was extreme, and the means he was compelled to employ for that
      purpose greatly heightened the evil, at the same time insubordination and
      want of discipline prevailed to such an alarming degree that it would be
      as difficult as painful to depict the situation of our army at this
      period, Marmont, by his steady conduct, fortunately succeeded in
      correcting the disorders which prevailed, and very soon found himself at
      the head of a well-organised army, amounting to 30,000 infantry, with
      forty pieces of artillery, but he had only a very small body of cavalry,
      and those ill-mounted.
    
Under these circumstances, Bonaparte sent Bertrand to Illyria to take Marmont's place, who was ordered to relieve Massena and take command of the French army in Portugal. When Marmont took command, he found the troops in terrible shape. The struggle to get supplies was extreme, and the methods he had to use to solve this problem made things worse. At the same time, insubordination and lack of discipline were so widespread that it would be as hard as it was painful to describe the state of our army at this time. Fortunately, Marmont, through his steady approach, managed to fix the issues that were happening and quickly found himself leading a well-organized army of 30,000 infantry with forty pieces of artillery, but he only had a very small number of ill-mounted cavalry.







      Affairs in Spain at the commencement of 1811 exhibited an aspect not very
      different from those of Portugal. At first we were uniformly successful,
      but our advantages were so dearly purchased that the ultimate issue of
      this struggle might easily have been foreseen, because when a people fight
      for their homes and their liberties the invading army must gradually
      diminish, while at the same time the armed population, emboldened by
      success, increases in a still more marked progression. Insurrection was
      now regarded by the Spaniards as a holy and sacred duty, to which the
      recent meetings of the Cortes in the Isle of Leon had given, as it were, a
      legitimate character, since Spain found again, in the remembrance of her
      ancient privileges, at least the shadow of a Government—a centre
      around which the defenders of the soil of the Peninsula could rally.
    
Affairs in Spain at the beginning of 1811 looked quite similar to those in Portugal. Initially, we had consistent success, but our victories came at a high cost, making the eventual outcome of this conflict fairly predictable. When a population fights for their homes and freedoms, the invading army tends to shrink over time, while the local armed population grows stronger and more confident from their successes. The Spanish now viewed insurrection as a sacred duty, further legitimized by the recent meetings of the Cortes in the Isle of Leon. Spain found, in the memory of its ancient rights, at least the faint hope of a government—a focal point for the defenders of the Peninsula to unite around.






 —[Lord Wellington gave Massena a beating at Fuentes d'Onore on the
   5th of May 1811. It was soon after this battle that Napoleon sent
   Marmont to succeed Massena. Advancing on the southern frontier of
   Portugal the skillful Soult contrived to take Badajoz from a
   wavering Spanish garrison. About this time, however, General
   Graham, with his British corps, sallied out of Cadiz, and beat the
   French on the heights of Barrosa, which lie in front of Cadiz, which
   city the French were then besieging. Encouraged by the successes of
   our regular armies, the Spanish Guerillas became more and more
   numerous and daring. By the end of 1811 Joseph Bonaparte found so
   many thorns in his usurped crown that he implored his brother to put
   it on some other head. Napoleon would not then listen to his
   prayer. In the course of 1811 a plan was laid for liberating
   Ferdinand from his prison in France and placing him at the head of
   affairs in Spain, but was detected by the emissaries of Bonaparte's
   police. Ferdinand's sister, the ex-Queen of Etruria, had also
   planned an escape to England. Her agents were betrayed, tried by a
   military commission, and shot—the Princess herself was condemned to
   close confinement in a Roman convent.—Editor of 1836 edition.]— 
 —[Lord Wellington defeated Massena at Fuentes d'Onore on May 5, 1811. It was shortly after this battle that Napoleon sent Marmont to replace Massena. Advancing on the southern border of Portugal, the skilled Soult managed to capture Badajoz from a hesitant Spanish garrison. Around this time, however, General Graham and his British corps emerged from Cadiz and defeated the French on the heights of Barrosa, which are located in front of Cadiz, a city that the French were then besieging. Encouraged by the successes of our regular armies, the Spanish Guerrillas became increasingly numerous and bold. By the end of 1811, Joseph Bonaparte encountered so many challenges in his usurped crown that he begged his brother to place it on someone else's head. Napoleon did not heed his request at that time. In the course of 1811, a plan was devised to free Ferdinand from his imprisonment in France and put him in charge of affairs in Spain, but it was uncovered by Bonaparte's police. Ferdinand's sister, the former Queen of Etruria, also planned an escape to England. Her agents were betrayed, tried by a military commission, and executed—the Princess herself was sentenced to strict confinement in a Roman convent. —Editor of 1836 edition.] 







      The Continental system was the cause, if not of the eventual fall, at
      least of the rapid fall of Napoleon. This cannot be doubted if we consider
      for a moment the brilliant situation of the Empire in 1811, and the effect
      simultaneously produced throughout Europe by that system, which undermined
      the most powerful throne which ever existed. It was the Continental system
      that Napoleon upheld in Spain, for he had persuaded himself that this
      system, rigorously enforced, would strike a death blow to the commerce of
      England; and Duroc besides informed me of a circumstance which is of great
      weight in this question. Napoleon one day said to him, "I am no longer
      anxious that Joseph should be King of Spain; and he himself is indifferent
      about it. I would give the crown to the first comer who would shut his
      ports against the English."
    
The Continental system was the reason, if not for Napoleon's ultimate downfall, at least for his swift decline. This is undeniable when we think about how strong the Empire was in 1811 and the impact that system had across Europe, which weakened the most powerful throne ever. It was the Continental system that Napoleon supported in Spain because he believed that enforcing it strictly would deal a fatal blow to British trade. Duroc also told me something significant regarding this matter. One day, Napoleon said to him, "I’m no longer concerned about Joseph being King of Spain; he doesn’t care about it either. I would give the crown to anyone who would close their ports to the English."







      Murat had come to Paris on the occasion of the Empress' accouchement, and
      I saw him several times during his stay, for we had always been on the
      best terms; and I must do him the justice to say that he never assumed the
      King but to his courtiers, and those who had known him only as a monarch.
      Eight or ten days after the birth of the King of Rome, as I was one
      morning walking in the Champs Elysees, I met Murat. He was alone, and
      dressed in a long blue overcoat. We were exactly opposite the gardens of
      his sister-in-law, the Princess Borghese. "Well, Bourrienne," said Murat,
      after we had exchanged the usual courtesies, "well, what are you about
      now?" I informed him how I had been treated by Napoleon, who, that I might
      not be in Hamburg when the decree of union arrived there, had recalled me
      to Paris under a show of confidence. I think I still see the handsome and
      expressive countenance of Joachim when, having addressed him by the titles
      of Sire and Your Majesty, he said to me, "Pshaw! Bourrienne, are we not
      old comrades? The Emperor has treated you unjustly; and to whom has he not
      been unjust? His displeasure is preferable to his favour, which costs so
      dear! He says that he made us Kings; but did we not make him an Emperor?
      To you, my friend, whom I have known long and intimately, I can make my
      profession of faith. My sword, my blood, my life belong to the Emperor.
      When he calls me to the field to combat his enemies and the enemies of
      France I am no longer a King, I resume the rank of a Marshal of the
      Empire; but let him require no more. At Naples I will be King of Naples,
      and I will not sacrifice to his false calculations the life, the
      well-being, and the interests of my subjects. Let him not imagine that he
      can treat me as he has treated Louis! For I am ready to defend, even
      against him, if it must be so, the rights of the people over whom he has
      appointed me to rule. Am I then an advance-guard King?" These last words
      appeared to me peculiarly appropriate in the mouth of Murat, who had
      always served in the advance-guard of our armies, and I thought expressed
      in a very happy manner the similarity of his situation as a king and a
      soldier.
    
Murat had come to Paris for the Empress's childbirth, and I saw him several times during his stay since we always got along well. I have to give him credit for never acting like a king except in front of his courtiers and those who only knew him as a monarch. About eight or ten days after the King of Rome was born, one morning while I was walking in the Champs Elysees, I ran into Murat. He was alone and wearing a long blue coat. We were right across from the gardens of his sister-in-law, Princess Borghese. 

“Well, Bourrienne,” Murat said after we exchanged the usual pleasantries, “what are you up to now?” I told him about how Napoleon had treated me, explaining that he had recalled me to Paris under the pretense of confidence to keep me from being in Hamburg when the decree of union arrived. I can still picture the handsome and expressive face of Joachim when, after I had addressed him as Sire and Your Majesty, he said, “Pshaw! Bourrienne, aren’t we old friends? The Emperor has treated you unfairly, and who hasn’t he treated unfairly? His displeasure is better than his favor, which comes at such a cost! He claims that he made us Kings, but didn’t we make him an Emperor? To you, my friend, whom I have known well and for a long time, I can share my true feelings. My sword, my blood, my life belong to the Emperor. When he calls me to the battlefield to fight his enemies and the enemies of France, I’m not a king anymore; I take on the rank of a Marshal of the Empire. But he should ask for no more than that. In Naples, I will be the King of Naples, and I won’t sacrifice the lives, welfare, and interests of my subjects for his misguided plans. He shouldn’t think he can treat me like he treated Louis! Because I’m ready to defend, even against him if I must, the rights of the people he has put me in charge of governing. Am I just some advance-guard king?” Those last words seemed particularly fitting coming from Murat, who had always served in the advance guard of our armies, and I thought they captured well the similarity between his roles as a king and a soldier.







      I walked with Murat about half an hour. In the course of our conversation
      he informed me that his greatest cause of complaint against the Emperor
      was his having first put him forward and then abandoned him. "Before I
      arrived in Naples," continued he, "it was intimated to me that there was a
      design of assassinating me. What did I do? I entered that city alone, in
      full daylight, in an open carriage, for I would rather have been
      assassinated at once than have lived in the constant fear of being so. I
      afterwards made a descent on the Isle of Capri, which succeeded. I
      attempted one against Sicily, and am curtain it would have also been
      successful had the Emperor fulfilled his promise of sending the Toulon
      fleet to second my operations; but he issued contrary orders: he enacted
      Mazarin, and unshed me to play the part of the adventurous Duke of Guise.
      But I see through his designs. Now that he has a son, on whom he has
      bestowed the title of King of Rome, he merely wishes the crown of Naples
      to be considered as a deposit in my hands. He regards Naples as a future
      annexation to the Kingdom of Rome, to which I foresee it is his design to
      unite the whole of Italy. But let him not urge me too far, for I will
      oppose him, and conquer, or perish in the attempt, sword in hand."
    
I walked with Murat for about half an hour. During our conversation, he told me that his biggest complaint about the Emperor was that he had promoted him and then left him behind. "Before I got to Naples," he continued, "I had been warned that there was a plan to assassinate me. What did I do? I entered the city alone, in broad daylight, in an open carriage, because I’d rather be killed right away than live in constant fear of it. Later, I successfully launched an attack on the Isle of Capri. I tried to do the same in Sicily, and I’m sure it would have worked if the Emperor had kept his promise to send the Toulon fleet to support my efforts; but instead, he gave opposite orders: he played Mazarin and forced me to act like the daring Duke of Guise. But I see through his plans. Now that he has a son, whom he’s titled King of Rome, he just wants the crown of Naples to be seen as a temporary hold in my hands. He sees Naples as a future addition to the Kingdom of Rome, which I suspect he wants to merge with all of Italy. But he better not push me too far, or I will stand against him and either win or die trying, sword in hand."







      I had the discretion not to inform Murat how correctly he had divined the
      plans of the Emperor and his projects as to Italy, but in regard to the
      Continental system, which, perhaps, the reader will be inclined to call my
      great stalking-horse, I spoke of it as I had done to the Prince of Sweden,
      and I perceived that he was fully disposed to follow my advice, as
      experience has sufficiently proved. It was in fact the Continental system
      which separated the interests of Murat from those of the Emperor, and
      which compelled the new King of Naples to form alliances amongst the
      Princes at war with France. Different opinions have been entertained on
      this Subject; mine is, that the Marshal of the Empire was wrong, but the
      King of Naples right.
    
I chose not to tell Murat how accurately he had guessed the Emperor's plans and projects for Italy, but regarding the Continental system, which some might see as my main tactic, I discussed it as I had with the Prince of Sweden, and I noticed that Murat was very willing to accept my advice, as experience has shown. Ultimately, it was the Continental system that separated Murat's interests from the Emperor's and forced the new King of Naples to form alliances with the princes at war with France. There have been varying opinions on this matter; I believe the Marshal of the Empire was mistaken, but the King of Naples was correct.







      The Princes and Dukes of the Empire must pardon me for so often
      designating them by their Republican names. The Marshals set less value on
      their titles of nobility than the Dukes and Counts selected from among the
      civilians. Of all the sons of the Republic Regnault de St. Jean d'Angély
      was the most gratified at being a Count, whilst, among the fathers of the
      Revolution no one could regard with greater disdain than Fouché his title
      of Duke of Otranto; he congratulated himself upon its possession only
      once, and that was after the fall of the Empire.
    
The princes and dukes of the Empire must forgive me for frequently referring to them by their Republican names. The marshals place less importance on their noble titles than the dukes and counts chosen from among the civilians. Of all the sons of the Republic, Regnault de St. Jean d'Angély was the happiest to be a count, while among the fathers of the Revolution, no one looked down on his title of Duke of Otranto more than Fouché; he only praised having it once, and that was after the Empire collapsed.







      I have expressed my dislike of Fouché; and the reason of that feeling was,
      that I could not endure his system of making the police a government
      within a government. He had left Paris before my return thither, but I had
      frequent occasion to speak of that famous personage to Savary, whom, for
      the reason above assigned, I do not always term Duc de Rovigo. Savary knew
      better than any one the fallacious measures of Fouché's administration,
      since he was his successor. Fouché, under pretence of encouraging men of
      letters, though well aware that the Emperor was hostile to them, intended
      only to bring them into contempt by making them write verses at command.
      It was easily seen that Napoleon nourished a profound dislike of literary
      men, though we must not conclude that he wished the public to be aware of
      that dislike. Those, besides, who devoted their pens to blazon his glory
      and his power were sure to be received by him with distinction. On the
      other hand, as Charlemagne and Louis XIV. owed a portion of the splendour
      of their reigns to the lustre reflected on them by literature, he wished
      to appear to patronise authors, provided that they never discussed
      questions relating to philosophy, the independence of mankind, and civil
      and political rights. With regard to men of science it was wholly
      different; those he held in real estimation; but men of letters, properly
      so called, were considered by him merely as a sprig in his Imperial crown.
    
I have shared my dislike for Fouché, and the reason for this feeling is that I couldn’t stand his approach to creating a police force that operated as a government within a government. He had left Paris before I got back there, but I often had the chance to talk about that well-known figure with Savary, whom, for the reason I mentioned, I don’t always call Duc de Rovigo. Savary knew better than anyone the misleading tactics of Fouché’s administration since he succeeded him. Fouché, under the guise of supporting writers—despite knowing that the Emperor didn't like them—was really just trying to make them look bad by forcing them to write poems on command. It was clear that Napoleon deeply disliked literary figures, but that doesn’t mean he wanted the public to know about it. Those who used their writing to praise his glory and power were sure to be welcomed by him with distinction. On the other hand, just as Charlemagne and Louis XIV. benefited from the prestige brought by literature, he wanted to seem supportive of authors, as long as they didn’t discuss issues related to philosophy, human independence, and civil and political rights. In contrast, he held scientists in genuine respect; but for true writers, he saw them merely as a decoration in his Imperial crown.







      The marriage of the Emperor with an Archduchess of Austria had set all the
      Court poets to work, and in this contest of praise and flattery it must be
      confessed that the false gods were vanquished by the true God; for, in
      spite of their fulsome verses, not one of the disciples of Apollo could
      exceed the extravagance of the Bishops in their pastoral letters. At a
      time when so many were striving to force themselves into notice there
      still existed a feeling of esteem in the public mind for men of superior
      talent who remained independent amidst the general corruption; such was M.
      Lemercier, such was M. de Chateaubriand. I was in Paris in the spring of
      1811, at the period of Chenier's death, when the numerous friends whom
      Chateaubriand possessed in the second class of the Institute looked to him
      as the successor of Chenier. This was more than a mere literary question,
      not only on account of the high literary reputation M. de Chateaubriand
      already possessed, but of the recollection of his noble conduct at the
      period of Duc d'Enghien's death, which was yet fresh in the memory of
      every one; and, besides, no person could be ignorant of the immeasurable
      difference of opinion between Chenier and M. de Chateaubriand.
    
The Emperor's marriage to an Archduchess of Austria got all the Court poets busy, and in this battle of praise and flattery, it must be admitted that the true God triumphed over the false ones; because, despite their over-the-top verses, none of Apollo's followers could match the Bishops' extravagance in their pastoral letters. Even when so many were trying to get attention, there was still a respect in the public eye for talented individuals who remained independent amidst the widespread corruption; such was M. Lemercier, such was M. de Chateaubriand. I was in Paris in the spring of 1811, around the time of Chenier's death, when Chateaubriand's many friends in the second class of the Institute looked to him as Chenier's successor. This wasn't just a literary issue, not only because of M. de Chateaubriand's already stellar literary reputation, but also because everyone still remembered his noble behavior during the Duc d'Enghien's death. Moreover, no one could be unaware of the vast difference of opinion between Chenier and M. de Chateaubriand.







      M. de Chateaubriand obtained a great majority of votes, and was elected a
      Member of the Institute. This opened a wide field for conjecture in Paris.
      Every one was anxious to see how the author of the Genie du Christianisme,
      the faithful defender of the Bourbons, would bend his eloquence to
      pronounce the eulogium of a regicide. The time for the admission of the
      new Member of the Institute arrived, but in his discourse, copies of which
      were circulated in Paris, he had ventured to allude to the death of Louis
      XVI., and to raise his voice against the regicides. This did not displease
      Napoleon; but M. de Chateaubriand also made a profession of faith in
      favour of liberty, which, he said, found refuge amongst men of letters
      when banished from the politic body. This was great boldness for the time;
      for though Bonaparte was secretly gratified at seeing the judges of Louis
      XVI. scourged by an heroic pen, yet those men held the highest situations
      under the Government. Cambacérès filled the second place in the Empire,
      although at a great distance from the first; Merlin de Douai was also in
      power; and it is known how much liberty was stifled and hidden beneath the
      dazzling illusion of what is termed glory. A commission was named to
      examine the discourse of Chateaubriand. MM. Suard, de Segur, de Fontanes,
      and two or three other members of the same class of the Institute whose
      names I cannot recollect, were of opinion that the discourse should be
      read; but it was opposed by the majority.
    
M. de Chateaubriand received a significant majority of votes and was elected a Member of the Institute. This sparked a lot of speculation in Paris. Everyone was curious to see how the author of the Genie du Christianisme, the loyal supporter of the Bourbons, would use his eloquence to speak highly of a regicide. When the time came for the new Member of the Institute to take his place, he referenced the death of Louis XVI and spoke out against the regicides in his speech, copies of which were shared around Paris. This didn’t upset Napoleon, but M. de Chateaubriand also expressed a belief in liberty, stating that it found shelter among intellectuals when it was driven out of politics. This was quite bold for the time; although Bonaparte was secretly pleased to see Louis XVI's judges condemned by a powerful pen, those individuals held the highest positions in the Government. Cambacérès occupied the second most important office in the Empire, though far from the first; Merlin de Douai was also in power, and it’s clear how much liberty was suppressed and concealed beneath the glittering facade of what is called glory. A commission was formed to review Chateaubriand's speech. MM. Suard, de Segur, de Fontanes, and two or three other members from the same group in the Institute whose names I can’t recall believed that the speech should be presented; however, the majority disagreed.







      When Napoleon was informed of what had passed he demanded a sight of the
      address, which was presented to him by M. Daru. After having perused it he
      exclaimed; "Had this discourse been delivered I would have shut the gates
      of the Institute, and thrown M. de Chateaubriand into a dungeon for life."
      The storm long raged; at length means of conciliation were tried. The
      Emperor required M. de Chateaubriand to prepare another discourse, which
      the latter refused to do, in spite of every menace. Madame Gay applied to
      Madame Regnault de St. Jean d'Angély, who interested her husband in favour
      of the author of the Genie du Christianisme. M. de Montalivet and Savary
      also acted on this occasion in the most praiseworthy manner, and succeeded
      in appeasing the first transports of the Emperor's rage. But the name of
      Chateaubriand constantly called to mind the circumstances which had
      occasioned him to give in his resignation; and, besides, Napoleon had
      another complaint against him. He had published in the 'Merceure' an
      article on a work of M. Alexandre de Laborde. In that article, which was
      eagerly read in Paris, and which caused the suppression of the 'Merceure',
      occurred the famous phrase which has been since so often repeated: "In
      vain a Nero triumphs: Tacitus is already born in his Empire." This
      quotation leads me to repeat an observation, which, I believe, I have
      already made, viz. that it is a manifest misconception to compare
      Bonaparte to Nero. Napoleon's ambition might blind his vision to political
      crimes, but in private life no man could evince less disposition to
      cruelty or bloodshed. A proof that he bore little resemblance to Nero is
      that his anger against the author of the article in question vented itself
      in mere words. "What!" exclaimed he, "does Chateaubriand think I am a
      fool, and that I do not know what he means? If he goes on this way I will
      have him sabred on the steps of the Tuileries." This language is quite
      characteristic of Bonaparte, but it was uttered in the first ebullition of
      his wrath. Napoleon merely threatened, but Nero would have made good his
      threat; and in such a case there is surely some difference between words
      and deeds.
    
When Napoleon learned about what had happened, he demanded to see the address, which M. Daru presented to him. After reading it, he exclaimed, "If this speech had been delivered, I would have shut the gates of the Institute and thrown M. de Chateaubriand into a dungeon for life." The uproar went on for a long time, and eventually, attempts were made to patch things up. The Emperor asked M. de Chateaubriand to prepare another speech, which he refused to do despite all the threats. Madame Gay reached out to Madame Regnault de St. Jean d'Angély, who got her husband involved to support the author of "The Genius of Christianity." M. de Montalivet and Savary also acted commendably during this time and managed to calm the Emperor's initial fury. However, the name Chateaubriand always reminded Napoleon of the reasons behind his resignation, and additionally, Napoleon had another grievance against him. He had published an article in the 'Mercure' about a work by M. Alexandre de Laborde. This article, which garnered much attention in Paris and led to the suppression of the 'Mercure', contained the famous phrase that has since been frequently repeated: "In vain does a Nero triumph: Tacitus is already born in his Empire." This quotation prompts me to restate a point I believe I've made before, that it's a clear misunderstanding to compare Bonaparte to Nero. Napoleon’s ambition might blind him to political crimes, but in his personal life, he showed little inclination for cruelty or bloodshed. A clear indicator that he was unlike Nero is that his anger toward the author of that article was expressed in mere words. "What!" he exclaimed, "Does Chateaubriand think I’m a fool and that I don’t know what he means? If he continues like this, I’ll have him killed on the steps of the Tuileries." This language is very characteristic of Bonaparte, but it was said in the heat of his anger. Napoleon only threatened, while Nero would have acted on his threats; in that regard, there is a significant difference between words and actions.







      The discourse of M. de Chateaubriand revived Napoleon's former enmity
      against him; he received an order to quit Paris: M. Daru returned to him
      the manuscript of his discourse, which had been read by Bonaparte, who
      cancelled some passages with a pencil. We can be sure that the phrase
      about liberty was not one of those spared by the Imperial pencil. However
      that may be, written copies were circulated with text altered and
      abbreviated; and I have even been told that a printed edition appeared,
      but I have never seen any copies; and as I do not find the discourse in
      the works of M. de Chateaubriand I have reason to believe that the author
      has not yet wished to publish it.
    
M. de Chateaubriand's speech reignited Napoleon's old grudge against him; he was ordered to leave Paris. M. Daru returned the manuscript of his speech, which had been reviewed by Bonaparte, who marked out some sections with a pencil. We can be sure that the part about liberty was not one of those left untouched by the Emperor's pencil. Regardless, written copies were distributed with altered and shortened text; I’ve even heard that a printed version was released, but I’ve never seen any copies. Since I can’t find the speech in M. de Chateaubriand’s works, I believe the author hasn’t chosen to publish it yet.







      Such were the principal circumstances attending the nomination of
      Chateaubriand to the Institute. I shall not relate some others which
      occurred on a previous occasion, viz. on the election of an old and worthy
      visitor at Malmaison, M. Lemercier, and which will serve to show one of
      those strange inconsistencies so frequent in the character of Napoleon.
    
Such were the main circumstances surrounding Chateaubriand's nomination to the Institute. I won’t go into other details that happened previously, like during the election of a respected former visitor at Malmaison, M. Lemercier, which will illustrate one of those odd inconsistencies often found in Napoleon's character.







      After the foundation of the Empire M. Lemercier ceased to present himself
      at the Tuileries, St. Cloud, or at Malmaison, though he was often seen in
      the salons of Madame Bonaparte while she yet hoped not to become a Queen.
      Two places were vacant at once in the second class of the Institute, which
      still contained a party favourable to liberty. This party, finding it
      impossible to influence the nomination of both members, contented itself
      with naming one, it being the mutual condition, in return for favouring
      the Government candidate, that the Government party should not oppose the
      choice of the liberals. The liberal party selected M. Lemercier, but as
      they knew his former connection with Bonaparte had been broken off they
      wished first to ascertain that he would do nothing to commit their choice.
      Chenier was empowered to inquire whether M. Lemercier would refuse to
      accompany them to the Tuileries when they repaired thither in a body, and
      whether, on his election, he would comply with the usual ceremony of being
      presented to the Emperor. M. Lemercier replied that he would do nothing
      contrary to the customs and usages of the body to which he might belong:
      he was accordingly elected. The Government candidate was M. Esmenard, who
      was also elected. The two new members were presented to the Emperor on the
      same day. On this occasion upwards of 400 persons were present in the
      salon, from one of whom I received these details. When the Emperor saw M.
      Lemercier, for whom he had long pretended great friendship, he said to him
      in a kind tone, "Well, Lemercier, you are now installed." Lemercier
      respectfully bowed to the Emperor; but without uttering a word of reply.
      Napoleon was mortified at this silence, but without saying anything more
      to Lemercier he turned to Esmenard, the member who should have been most
      acceptable to him, and vented upon him the whole weight of his indignation
      in a manner equally unfeeling and unjust. "Well, Esmenard," said he, "do
      you still hold your place in the police?" These words were spoken in so
      loud a tone as to be heard by all present; and it was doubtless this cruel
      and ambiguous speech which furnished the enemies of Esmenard with arms to
      attack his reputation as a man of honour, and to give an appearance of
      disgrace to those functions which he exercised with so much zeal and
      ability.
    
After the Empire was established, M. Lemercier stopped showing up at the Tuileries, St. Cloud, or Malmaison, though he was often seen in Madame Bonaparte's salons while she still hoped not to become a Queen. There were two vacant places in the second class of the Institute, which still had a faction supportive of liberty. This faction, finding it impossible to influence the selection of both members, settled on naming one, agreeing that in return for supporting the Government's candidate, the Government party would not oppose the liberals' choice. The liberals chose M. Lemercier, but since they knew his previous ties with Bonaparte had ended, they wanted to confirm that he wouldn’t act in a way that would embarrass their selection. Chenier was tasked to ask if M. Lemercier would decline to join them at the Tuileries when they went there as a group, and whether, if elected, he would participate in the usual ceremony of being introduced to the Emperor. M. Lemercier responded that he would do nothing that went against the customs and practices of the group he might belong to; he was then elected. The Government candidate was M. Esmenard, who was also elected. The two new members were presented to the Emperor on the same day. During this event, over 400 people were present in the salon, from one of whom I received these details. When the Emperor saw M. Lemercier, for whom he had long feigned great friendship, he said to him in a friendly tone, "Well, Lemercier, you are now installed." Lemercier respectfully bowed to the Emperor but didn’t say a word in reply. Napoleon was annoyed by this silence; without saying anything more to Lemercier, he turned to Esmenard, the member who should have pleased him most, and unleashed the full force of his irritation on him in a callous and unfair manner. "Well, Esmenard," he said, "do you still hold your place in the police?" These words were spoken loudly enough to be heard by everyone present, and it was surely this cruel and vague remark that gave Esmenard's enemies ammunition to attack his reputation as an honorable man and to cast a shadow on the roles he carried out with such dedication and skill.







      When, at the commencement of 1811, I left Paris I had ceased to delude
      myself respecting the brilliant career which seemed opening before me
      during the Consulate. I clearly perceived that since Bonaparte, instead of
      receiving me as I expected, had refused to see me at all, the calumnies of
      my enemies were triumphant, and that I had nothing to hope for from an
      absolute ruler, whose past injustice rendered him the more unjust. He now
      possessed what he had so long and ardently wished for,—a son of his
      own, an inheritor of his name, his power, and his throne. I must take this
      opportunity of stating that the malevolent and infamous rumours spread
      abroad respecting the birth of the King of Rome were wholly without
      foundation. My friend Corvisart, who did not for a single instant leave
      Maria Louisa during her long and painful labour, removed from my mind
      every doubt on the subject. It is as true that the young Prince, for whom
      the Emperor of Austria stood sponsor at the font, was the son of Napoleon
      and the Archduchess Maria Louisa as it is false that Bonaparte was the
      father of the first child of Hortense. The birth of the son of Napoleon
      was hailed with general enthusiasm. The Emperor was at the height of his
      power from the period of the birth of his son until the reverse he
      experienced after the battle of the Moskowa. The Empire, including the
      States possessed by the Imperial family, contained nearly 57,000,000 of
      inhabitants; but the period was fast approaching when this power,
      unparalleled in modern times, was to collapse under its own weight.
    
When I left Paris at the start of 1811, I had stopped fooling myself about the promising future that seemed to be in store for me during the Consulate. I realized clearly that since Bonaparte, instead of giving me the audience I expected, had refused to see me at all, my enemies had triumphed, and I had nothing to hope for from an absolute ruler whose past wrongs only made him more unjust. He now had what he had wished for so long—a son of his own, an heir to his name, his power, and his throne. I should mention that the malicious and infamous rumors about the birth of the King of Rome were completely unfounded. My friend Corvisart, who never left Maria Louisa’s side during her long and painful labor, cleared up any doubts I had. It’s as true that the young Prince, for whom the Emperor of Austria was the godfather, was the son of Napoleon and Archduchess Maria Louisa as it is false that Bonaparte was the father of Hortense's first child. The birth of Napoleon's son was met with widespread enthusiasm. The Emperor was at the peak of his power from the time his son was born until the setback he faced after the battle of the Moskowa. The Empire, along with the territories held by the Imperial family, had nearly 57 million inhabitants; however, the time was fast approaching when this unprecedented power in modern times would collapse under its own weight.






 —[The little King of Rome, Napoleon Francis Bonaparte, was born on
   the 20th of March 1811. Editor of 1836 edition.]— 
 —[The little King of Rome, Napoleon Francis Bonaparte, was born on
   March 20, 1811. Editor of 1836 edition.]— 








 


 




















      CHAPTER XXVI.
    






   My return to Hamburg—Government Committee established there—
   Anecdote of the Comte de Chaban—Napoleon's misunderstanding with
   the Pope—Cardinal Fesch—Convention of a Council—Declaration
   required from the Bishops—Spain in 1811—Certainty of war with
   Russia—Lauriston supersedes Caulaincourt at St. Petersburg—The war
   in Spain neglected—Troops of all nations at the disposal of
   Bonaparte—Levy of the National Guard—Treaties with Prussia and
   Austria—Capitulation renewed with Switzerland—Intrigues with
   Czernischeff—Attacks of my enemies—Memorial to the Emperor—Ogier
   de la Saussaye and the mysterious box—Removal of the Pope to
   Fontainebleau—Anecdote of His Holiness and M. Denon—Departure of
   Napoleon and Maria Louisa for Dresden—Situation of affairs in Spain
   and Portugal—Rapp's account of the Emperor's journey to Dantzic—
   Mutual wish for war on the part of Napoleon and Alexander—Sweden
   and Turkey—Napoleon's vain attempt to detach Sweden from her
   alliance with Russia.

   My return to Hamburg—Government Committee set up there—A story about the Comte de Chaban—Napoleon's disagreement with the Pope—Cardinal Fesch—Planning for a Council—Declaration needed from the Bishops—Spain in 1811—Certainty of war with Russia—Lauriston replaces Caulaincourt in St. Petersburg—The war in Spain is overlooked—Troops from all nations at Bonaparte’s disposal—Recruitment for the National Guard—Treaties with Prussia and Austria—Capitulation renewed with Switzerland—Intrigues with Czernischeff—Attacks from my enemies—Memorial to the Emperor—Ogier de la Saussaye and the mysterious box—Removal of the Pope to Fontainebleau—A story about His Holiness and M. Denon—Departure of Napoleon and Maria Louisa for Dresden—Current situation in Spain and Portugal—Rapp's account of the Emperor's trip to Dantzic—Shared desire for war between Napoleon and Alexander—Sweden and Turkey—Napoleon's unsuccessful attempt to pull Sweden away from its alliance with Russia.







      As I took the most lively interest in all that concerned the Hanse Towns,
      my first care on returning to Hamburg was to collect information from the
      most respectable sources concerning the influential members of the new
      Government. Davoust was at its head. On his arrival he had established in
      the Duchy of Mecklenburg, in Swedish Pomerania, and in Stralsund, the
      capital of that province, military posts and custom-houses, and that in a
      time of profound peace with those countries, and without any previous
      declaration. The omnipotence of Napoleon, and the terror inspired by the
      name of Davoust, overcame all obstacles which might have opposed those
      iniquitous usurpations. The weak were forced to yield to the strong.
    
As I was really invested in everything related to the Hanse Towns, my first priority when I got back to Hamburg was to gather information from credible sources about the key figures in the new Government. Davoust was in charge. Upon his arrival, he set up military posts and customs offices in the Duchy of Mecklenburg, in Swedish Pomerania, and in Stralsund, the capital of that area, all during a time of complete peace with those regions and without any prior announcement. The overwhelming power of Napoleon, along with the fear instilled by the name of Davoust, pushed aside any obstacles that might have prevented those wrongful takeovers. The weak had no choice but to submit to the strong.







      At Hamburg a Government Committee was formed, consisting of the Prince of
      Eekmuhl as President, Comte de Chaban, Councillor of State, who
      superintended the departments of the Interior and Finance, and of M.
      Faure, Councillor of State, who was appointed to form and regulate the
      Courts of Law. I had sometimes met M. de Chaban at Malmaison. He was
      distantly related to Josephine, and had formerly been an officer in the
      French Guards. He was compelled to emigrate, having been subjected to
      every species of persecution during the Revolution.
    
At Hamburg, a Government Committee was created, led by the Prince of Eekmuhl as President, Comte de Chaban, Councillor of State, who oversaw the Interior and Finance departments, and M. Faure, Councillor of State, who was tasked with establishing and managing the Courts of Law. I had occasionally run into M. de Chaban at Malmaison. He was a distant relative of Josephine and had previously been an officer in the French Guards. He had to emigrate after facing various forms of persecution during the Revolution.







      M. de Chaban was among the first of the emigrants who returned to France
      after the 18th Brumaire. He was at first made Sub-Prefect of Vendome, but
      on the union of Tuscany with France Napoleon created him a member of the
      Junta appointed to regulate the affairs of Tuscany. He next became Prefect
      of Coblentz and Brussels, was made a Count by Bonaparte, and was
      afterwards chosen a member of the Government Committee at Hamburg. M. de
      Chaban was a man of upright principles, and he discharged his various
      functions in a way that commanded esteem and attachment.
    
M. de Chaban was one of the first emigrants to return to France after the 18th Brumaire. Initially, he was appointed Sub-Prefect of Vendome, but after Tuscany was united with France, Napoleon appointed him as a member of the Junta responsible for overseeing Tuscany's affairs. He then became Prefect of Coblentz and Brussels, was made a Count by Bonaparte, and later was elected as a member of the Government Committee in Hamburg. M. de Chaban was a man of strong principles, and he carried out his various roles in a way that earned him respect and loyalty.






 —[I recollect an anecdote which but too well depicts those
   disastrous times. The Comte de Chaban, being obliged to cross
   France during the Reign of Terror, was compelled to assume a
   disguise. He accordingly provided himself with a smockfrock; a cart
   and horses, and a load of corn. In this manner he journeyed from
   place to place till he reached the frontiers. He stopped at
   Rochambeau, in the Vendomais, where he was recognised by the Marshal
   de Rochambeau, who to guard against exciting any suspicion among
   his servants, treated him as if he had really been a carman and said
   to him, "You may dine in the kitchen."—Bourrienne.]— 
 —[I remember a story that really illustrates those terrible times. The Comte de Chaban had to travel across France during the Reign of Terror and had to disguise himself. So, he got a smock, a cart and horses, and a load of grain. He traveled from place to place until he reached the border. He stopped in Rochambeau, in the Vendomais, where he was recognized by Marshal de Rochambeau. To avoid raising any suspicion among his servants, he treated him as if he were really a cart driver and said to him, "You can eat in the kitchen."—Bourrienne.]—







      The Hanseatic Towns, united to the Grand Empire professedly for their
      welfare, soon felt the blessings of the new organisation of a regenerating
      Government. They were at once presented with; the stamp-duty,
      registration, the lottery, the droits reunis, the tax on cards, and the
      'octroi'. This prodigality of presents caused, as we may be sure, the most
      lively gratitude; a tax for military quarters and for warlike supplies was
      imposed, but this did not relieve any one from laving not only officers
      and soldiers; but even all the chiefs of the administration and their
      officials billeted on them: The refineries, breweries, and manufactures of
      all sorts were suppressed. The cash chests of the Admiralty, of the
      charity houses, of the manufactures, of the savings-banks, of the working
      classes, the funds of the prisons, the relief meant for the infirm, the
      chests of the refuges, orphanages; and of the hospitals, were all seized.
    
The Hanseatic Towns, joined to the Grand Empire supposedly for their benefit, quickly experienced the advantages of the new organization of a revitalizing Government. They were immediately faced with stamp duty, registration fees, lotteries, consolidated taxes, card taxes, and the 'octroi'. This generous offering surely sparked great gratitude; however, a tax for military quarters and war supplies was imposed, which meant they still had to support not only officers and soldiers but also all the heads of administration and their staff who were stationed there. Refineries, breweries, and all kinds of manufacturing were shut down. The funds of the Admiralty, charity organizations, manufacturers, savings banks, the working class, prison funds, aid for the sick, shelters, orphanages, and hospitals were all confiscated.







      More than 200,000 men, Italian, Dutch, and French soldiers came in turn to
      stay there, but only to be clothed and shod; and then they left newly
      clothed from head to foot. To leave nothing to be wished for, Davoust,
      from 1812, established military commissions in all the thirty-second.
      military division, before he entered upon the Russian campaign. To
      complete these oppressive measures he established at the same time the
      High Prevotal Court of the Customs. It was at this time that M. Eudes, the
      director of the ordinary customs, a strict but just man, said that the
      rule of the ordinary customs would be regretted, "for till now you have
      only been on roses.." The professed judgments of this court were executed
      without appeal and without delay. From what I have just said the situation
      and the misery of the north of Germany, and the consequent discontent, can
      be judged.
    
More than 200,000 men, soldiers from Italy, the Netherlands, and France, came and went from there, but only to get clothes and shoes; then they left fully outfitted from head to toe. To ensure nothing was overlooked, Davoust set up military commissions in all thirty-two divisions back in 1812, before he joined the Russian campaign. To reinforce these oppressive measures, he also established the High Prevotal Court of Customs at that time. It was during this period that M. Eudes, the director of the regular customs, a strict but fair man, remarked that people would miss the regular customs system, saying, “because until now, you have only been on roses…” The decisions made by this court were enforced immediately and without the possibility of appeal. From what I've just outlined, you can understand the situation and the suffering in northern Germany, along with the resulting discontent.







      During my stay in Hamburg, which on this occasion was not very long,
      Napoleon's attention was particularly engaged by the campaign of Portugal,
      and his discussions with the Pope. At this period the thunderbolts of Rome
      were not very alarming. Yet precautions were taken to keep secret the
      excommunication which Pius VII. had pronounced against Napoleon. The
      event, however, got reported about, and a party in favour of the Pope
      speedily rose up among the clergy, and more particularly among the
      fanatics. Napoleon sent to Savona the Archbishops of Nantes, Bourges,
      Treves, and Tours, to endeavour to bring about a reconciliation with His
      Holiness. But all their endeavours were unavailing, and after staying a
      month at Savona they returned to Paris without having done anything. But
      Napoleon was not discouraged by this first disappointment, and he shortly
      afterwards sent a second deputation, which experienced the same fate as
      the first. Cardinal Fesch, Napoleon's uncle, took part with the Pope. For
      this fact I can vouch, though I cannot for an answer which he is said to
      have made to the Emperor. I have been informed that when Napoleon was one
      day speaking to his uncle about the Pope's obstinacy the Cardinal made
      some observations to him on his (Bonaparte's) conduct to the Holy Father,
      upon which Napoleon flew into a passion, and said that the Pope and he
      were two old fools. "As for the Pope," said he, "he is too obstinate to
      listen to anything. No, I am determined he shall never have Rome again. .
      . . He will not remain at Savona, and where does he wish I should send
      him?"—"To Heaven, perhaps," replied the Cardinal.
    
During my time in Hamburg, which wasn’t very long, Napoleon was particularly focused on the campaign in Portugal and his conversations with the Pope. At that time, the threats from Rome weren’t very intimidating. Still, steps were taken to keep the excommunication that Pius VII had issued against Napoleon a secret. However, the news spread, and a group supporting the Pope quickly emerged among the clergy, especially among the zealots. Napoleon sent the Archbishops of Nantes, Bourges, Treves, and Tours to Savona to try and reconcile with His Holiness. But all their efforts were unsuccessful, and after a month in Savona, they returned to Paris without achieving anything. However, Napoleon didn’t let this initial setback discourage him, and shortly afterward, he sent a second delegation, which met the same fate as the first. Cardinal Fesch, Napoleon’s uncle, sided with the Pope. I can confirm this fact, though I can’t vouch for a response he supposedly gave the Emperor. I’ve heard that when Napoleon was discussing the Pope’s stubbornness with his uncle, the Cardinal made some comments about Bonaparte’s treatment of the Holy Father, which led Napoleon to lose his temper and declare that the Pope and he were both old fools. “As for the Pope,” he said, “he’s too stubborn to listen to anything. No, I’m determined he’ll never have Rome again... He won’t stay in Savona, so where does he want me to send him?”—“To Heaven, perhaps,” replied the Cardinal.







      The truth is, the Emperor was violently irritated against Pius VII.
      Observing with uneasiness the differences and difficulties to which all
      these dissensions gave rise, he was anxious to put a stop to them. As the
      Pope would not listen to any propositions that were made to him, Napoleon
      convoked a Council, which assembled in Paris, and at which several Italian
      Bishops were present. The Pope insisted that the temporal and spiritual
      interests should be discussed together; and, however disposed a certain
      number of prelates, particularly the Italians, might be to separate these
      two points of discussion, yet the influence of the Church and
      well-contrived intrigues gradually gave preponderance to the wishes of the
      Pope. The Emperor, having discovered that a secret correspondence was
      carried on by several of the Bishops and Archbishops who had seats in the
      Council, determined to get rid of some of them, and the Bishops of Ghent,
      Troyes, Tournay, and Toulouse were arrested and sent to Vincennes. They
      were superseded by others. He wished to dissolve the Council, which he saw
      was making no advance towards the object he had in view, and, fearing that
      it might adopt some act at variance with his supreme wish, every member of
      the Council was individually required to make a declaration that the
      proposed changes were conformable to the laws of the Church. It was said
      at the time that they were unanimous in this individual declaration,
      though it is certain that in the sittings of the Council opinions were
      divided. I know not what His Holiness thought of these written opinions
      compared with the verbal opinions that had been delivered, but certain it
      is though still a captive at Savona, he refused to adhere to the
      concessions granted in the secret declarations.
    
The truth is, the Emperor was really angry with Pius VII.  
      Watching the growing differences and problems caused by all these disputes, he wanted to put an end to them. Since the Pope wouldn’t consider any proposals that were offered to him, Napoleon called for a Council, which met in Paris and included several Italian Bishops. The Pope insisted that both temporal and spiritual matters should be discussed together; and, no matter how many bishops, especially the Italians, wanted to separate these two topics, the influence of the Church and well-planned scheming gradually tilted the balance in favor of the Pope's wishes. When the Emperor found out that several Bishops and Archbishops in the Council were secretly communicating with each other, he decided to remove some of them, leading to the arrest of the Bishops of Ghent, Troyes, Tournay, and Toulouse, who were then sent to Vincennes. They were replaced by others. He wanted to dissolve the Council, which he saw was making no progress toward his goals, and fearing that it might pass something contrary to his ultimate desire, every Council member was required to individually declare that the proposed changes were in line with Church law. At the time, it was said that they all agreed on this individual declaration, although it’s clear that opinions were divided during the Council sessions. I don’t know what His Holiness thought of these written declarations compared to the spoken opinions shared, but it’s certain that even while still a prisoner in Savona, he refused to accept the concessions granted in the secret declarations.







      The conflicts which took place in Spain during the year 1811 were
      unattended by any decisive results. Some brilliant events, indeed,
      attested the courage of our troops and the skill of our generals. Such
      were the battle of Albufera and the taking of Tarragona, while Wellington
      was obliged to raise the siege of Badajoz. These advantages, which were
      attended only by glory, encouraged Napoleon in the hope of triumphing in
      the Peninsula, and enabled him to enjoy the brilliant fetes which took
      place at Paris in celebration of the birth of the King of Rome.
    
The conflicts in Spain during 1811 didn’t lead to any clear outcomes. There were some impressive events that demonstrated the bravery of our troops and the skill of our generals, like the Battle of Albufera and the capture of Tarragona, while Wellington had to lift the siege of Badajoz. These victories, which brought nothing but glory, boosted Napoleon's hopes of succeeding in the Peninsula and allowed him to revel in the extravagant celebrations held in Paris for the birth of the King of Rome.







      On his return from a tour in Holland at the end of October Napoleon
      clearly saw that a rupture with Russia was inevitable. In vain he sent
      Lauriston as Ambassador to St. Petersburg to supersede Caulaincourt, who
      would no longer remain there: all the diplomatic skill in the world could
      effect nothing with a powerful Government which had already formed its
      determination. All the Cabinets in Europe were now unanimous in wishing
      for the overthrow of Napoleon's power, and the people no less, ardently
      wished for an order of things less fatal to their trade and industry. In
      the state to which Europe was reduced no one could counteract the wish of
      Russia and her allies to go to war with France—Lauriston no more
      than Caulaincourt.
    
On his return from a trip to Holland at the end of October, Napoleon clearly realized that a break with Russia was unavoidable. He futilely sent Lauriston as Ambassador to St. Petersburg to replace Caulaincourt, who was no longer willing to stay there. No amount of diplomatic skill could change the mind of a powerful government that had already made its decision. All the countries in Europe were now united in wanting to see Napoleon's power toppled, and the people were equally eager for a situation that would be less detrimental to their trade and industry. Given the state of Europe, no one could oppose Russia and her allies' desire to go to war with France, not Lauriston nor Caulaincourt.







      The war for which Napoleon was now obliged to prepare forced him to
      neglect Spain, and to leave his interests in that country in a state of
      real danger. Indeed, his occupation of Spain and his well-known wish to
      maintain himself there were additional motives for inducing the powers of
      Europe to enter upon a war which would necessarily divide Napoleon's
      forces. All at once the troops which were in Italy and the north of
      Germany moved towards the frontiers of the Russian Empire. From March 1811
      the Emperor had all the military forces of Europe at his disposal. It was
      curious to see this union of nations, distinguished by difference of
      manners,
    
The war that Napoleon now had to prepare for forced him to neglect Spain, leaving his interests in that country in serious jeopardy. In fact, his occupation of Spain and his well-known desire to stay there were additional reasons for the European powers to go to war, which would inevitably split Napoleon's forces. Suddenly, the troops stationed in Italy and northern Germany moved toward the borders of the Russian Empire. Since March 1811, the Emperor had all the military forces of Europe at his command. It was interesting to observe this alliance of nations, each marked by their own customs,






 —[It should be remarked that Napoleon was far from being anxious
   for the war with Russia. Metternich writing on 26th March 1811,
   says "Everything seems to indicate that the Emperor Napoleon is at
   present still far from desiring a war with Russia. But it is not
   less true that the Emperor Alexander has given himself over, 'nolens
   volens', to the war party, and that he will bring about war, because
   the time is approaching when he will no longer be able to resist the
   reaction of the party in the internal affairs of his Empire, or the
   temper of his army. The contest between Count Romanzov and the
   party opposed to that Minister seems on the point of precipitating a
   war between Russia and France." This, from Metternich, is strong
   evidence.]— 
—[It should be noted that Napoleon was not eager for a war with Russia. Metternich, writing on March 26, 1811, states, "Everything suggests that Emperor Napoleon is currently not seeking a war with Russia. However, it’s also true that Emperor Alexander has reluctantly aligned himself with the war faction, and he will push for war as the time approaches when he can no longer withstand the pressure from the internal factions in his Empire or the mood of his army. The conflict between Count Romanzov and the opposing faction seems poised to trigger a war between Russia and France." This, from Metternich, is strong evidence.]—







      language, religion, and interests, all ready to fight for one man against
      a power who had done nothing to offend them. Prussia herself, though she
      could not pardon the injuries he had inflicted upon her, joined his
      alliance, but with the intention of breaking it on the first opportunity.
      When the war with Russia was first spoken of Savary and I had frequent
      conversations on the subject. I communicated to him all the intelligence I
      received from abroad respecting that vast enterprise. The Duc de Rovigo
      shared all my forebodings; and if he and those who thought like him had
      been listened to, the war would probably have been avoided. Through him I
      learnt who were the individuals who urged the invasion. The eager ambition
      with which they looked forward to Viceroyalties, Duchies, and endowments
      blinded them to the possibility of seeing the Cossacks in Paris.
    
language, religion, and interests, all ready to fight for one man against a power that had done nothing to offend them. Prussia herself, even though she couldn't forgive the injuries he had caused her, joined his alliance, but with the plan to break it at the first chance. When the war with Russia was first brought up, Savary and I had frequent conversations about it. I shared all the information I received from abroad regarding that immense undertaking. The Duc de Rovigo felt the same way I did; and if he and those who thought like him had been listened to, the war would likely have been avoided. Through him, I learned who was pushing for the invasion. The eager ambition with which they anticipated Viceroyalties, Duchies, and rewards blinded them to the possibility of seeing the Cossacks in Paris.







      The gigantic enterprise being determined on, vast preparations were made
      for carrying it into effect. Before his departure Napoleon, who was to
      take with him all the disposable troops, caused a 'Senatus-consulte' to be
      issued for levying the National Guards, who were divided into three corps.
      He also arranged his diplomatic affairs by concluding, in February 1812, a
      treaty of alliance, offensive and defensive, with Prussia, by virtue of
      which the two contracting powers mutually guaranteed the integrity of
      their own possessions, and the European possessions of the Ottoman Porte,
      because that power was then at war with Russia. A similar treaty was
      concluded about the beginning of March with Austria, and about the end of
      the same month Napoleon renewed the capitulation of France and
      Switzerland. At length, in the month of April, there came to light an
      evident proof of the success which had attended M. Czernischeff's
      intrigues in Paris. It was ascertained that a clerk in the War Office,
      named Michel, had communicated to him the situation of the French forces
      in Germany. Michel was condemned to death, for the time was gone by when
      Bonaparte, confident in his genius and good fortune, could communicate his
      plans to the spy of General Melas.
    
The massive operation being planned required extensive preparations to carry it out. Before he left, Napoleon, who was taking all available troops with him, had a 'Senatus-consulte' issued to mobilize the National Guards, which were divided into three corps. He also handled his diplomatic matters by signing a treaty of offensive and defensive alliance with Prussia in February 1812, in which both countries guaranteed the security of their own lands and the European territories of the Ottoman Empire, as that empire was at war with Russia at the time. A similar treaty was made with Austria in early March, and by the end of the month, Napoleon confirmed the agreements with France and Switzerland. Finally, in April, clear evidence surfaced showing the success of M. Czernischeff's schemes in Paris. It was discovered that a clerk in the War Office named Michel had informed him of the position of the French forces in Germany. Michel was sentenced to death, as the time had passed when Bonaparte could confidently share his plans with General Melas's spy.







      In March 1812, when I saw that the approaching war would necessarily take
      Napoleon from France, weary of the persecutions and even threats by which
      I was every day assailed, I addressed to the Emperor a memorial explaining
      my conduct and showing the folly and wickedness of my accusers. Among them
      was a certain Ogier de la Saussaye, who had sent a report to the Emperor,
      in which the principal charge was, that I had carried off a box containing
      important papers belonging to the First Consul. The accusation of Ogier de
      la Saussaye terminated thus: "I add to my report the interrogatories of
      MM. Westphalen, Osy, Chapeau Rouge, Aukscher, Thierry, and
      Gumprecht-Mores. The evidence of the latter bears principally on a certain
      mysterious box, a secret upon which it is impossible to throw any light,
      but the reality of which we are bound to believe." These are his words.
      The affair of the mysterious box has been already explained. I have
      already informed the reader that I put my papers into a box, which I
      buried lest it should be stolen from me. But for that precaution I should
      not have been able to lay before the reader the autograph documents in my
      possession, and which I imagine form the most essential part of these
      volumes. In my memorial to the Emperor I said, in allusion to the passage
      above quoted, "This, Sire, is the most atrocious part of Ogier's report.
    
In March 1812, when I realized that the upcoming war would inevitably pull Napoleon away from France, and feeling exhausted by the daily harassment and even threats I faced, I wrote a memorial to the Emperor explaining my actions and highlighting the absurdity and malice of my accusers. One of them was a certain Ogier de la Saussaye, who had reported to the Emperor that my main offense was stealing a box containing important papers belonging to the First Consul. Ogier de la Saussaye concluded his accusation with: "I’m including in my report the statements from MM. Westphalen, Osy, Chapeau Rouge, Aukscher, Thierry, and Gumprecht-Mores. The testimony of the latter mainly revolves around a certain mysterious box, a secret we cannot clarify, but whose existence we must accept as true." Those are his words. The issue of the mysterious box has already been explained. I’ve mentioned before that I placed my papers in a box and buried it to prevent theft. Without that precaution, I wouldn’t have been able to present the autograph documents I have, which I believe are the most crucial part of these volumes. In my memorial to the Emperor, I noted, referencing the excerpt above, "This, Sire, is the most atrocious part of Ogier's report."







      "Gumprecht being questioned on this point replies that the accuser has
      probably, as well as himself, seen the circumstance mentioned in an
      infamous pamphlet which appeared seven or eight years, ago. It was, I
      think, entitled 'Le Secret du Cabinet des Tuileries,' and was very likely
      at the time of its appearance denounced by the police. In that libel it is
      stated, among a thousand other calumnies equally false and absurd, 'that
      when I left the First Consul I carried away a box full of important
      papers, that I was in consequence sent to the Temple, where your brother
      Joseph came to me and offered me my liberation, and a million of francs,
      if I would restore the papers, which I refused to do,' etc. Ogier, instead
      of looking for this libel in Hamburg, where I read it, has the impudence
      to give credit to the charge, the truth of which could have been
      ascertained immediately: and he adds, 'This secret we are bound to
      believe.' Your Majesty knows whether I was ever in the Temple, and whether
      Joseph ever made such an offer to me." I entreated that the Emperor would
      do me the favour to bring me to trial; for certainly I should have
      regarded that as a favour rather than to remain as I was, exposed to vague
      accusations; yet all my solicitations were in vain. My letter to the
      Emperor remained unanswered; but though Bonaparte could not spare a few
      moments to reply to an old friend, I learned through Duroc the contempt he
      cherished for my accusers. Duroc advised me not to be uneasy, and that in
      all probability the Emperor's prejudices against me would be speedily
      overcome; and I must say that if they were not overcome it was neither the
      fault of Duroc nor Savary, who knew how to rightly estimate the miserable
      intrigues just alluded to.
    
"Gumprecht, when questioned about this, replied that the accuser had probably seen the information mentioned in a notorious pamphlet that came out seven or eight years ago. I think it was called 'Le Secret du Cabinet des Tuileries,' and it was likely condemned by the police when it was published. This defamatory pamphlet claimed, along with a thousand other equally false and ridiculous allegations, that when I left the First Consul, I took a box full of important documents, and as a result, I was sent to the Temple, where your brother Joseph came to me and offered my release and a million francs if I would return the papers, which I refused to do, etc. Instead of searching for this pamphlet in Hamburg, where I read it, Ogier had the nerve to believe the accusation, the truth of which could have easily been verified: and he added, 'This secret we are bound to believe.' Your Majesty knows whether I was ever at the Temple and whether Joseph ever made such an offer to me." I urged the Emperor to grant me the favor of a trial; I would have definitely considered that a favor rather than staying in my current situation, exposed to vague accusations; yet all my requests were ignored. My letter to the Emperor went unanswered; but although Bonaparte couldn't take a moment to reply to an old friend, I learned from Duroc the disdain he held for my accusers. Duroc advised me not to worry, suggesting that the Emperor's biases against me would likely fade quickly; and I must say that if they didn't fade, it was not due to Duroc or Savary, who understood the pathetic intrigues I just mentioned.







      Napoleon was at length determined to extend the limits of his Empire, or
      rather to avenge the injuries which Russia had committed against his
      Continental system. Yet, before he departed for Germany, the resolute
      refusal of the Pope to submit to any arrangement urgently claimed his
      consideration. Savona did not appear to him a sufficiently secure
      residence for such a prisoner. He feared that when all his strength should
      be removed towards the Niemen the English might carry off the Pope, or
      that the Italians, excited by the clergy, whose dissatisfaction was
      general in Italy, would stir up those religious dissensions which are
      always fatal and difficult to quell. With the view, therefore, of keeping
      the Pope under his control he removed him to Fontainebleau, and even at
      one time thought of bringing him to Paris.
    
Napoleon was finally set on expanding his Empire, or rather, on getting back at Russia for the damage it had done to his Continental system. However, before he left for Germany, he had to deal with the Pope's firm refusal to agree to any arrangement, which demanded his attention. Savona didn't seem like a safe enough place to keep such a prisoner. He was worried that once all his forces moved towards the Niemen, the English might abduct the Pope, or that the Italians, stirred up by the clergy—who were generally unhappy in Italy—would ignite those religious conflicts that are always disastrous and hard to control. To keep the Pope under his watch, he moved him to Fontainebleau, and at one point even considered bringing him to Paris.







      The Emperor appointed M. Denon to reside with the Pope at Fontainebleau;
      and to afford his illustrious prisoner the society of such a man was
      certainly a delicate mark of attention on the part of Napoleon. When
      speaking of his residence with Pius VII. M. Denon related to me the
      following anecdote. "The Pope," said he, "was much attached to me. He
      always addressed me by the appellation 'my son,' and he loved to converse
      with me, especially on the subject of the Egyptian expedition. One day he
      asked me for my work on Egypt, which he said he wished to read; and as you
      know it is not quite orthodox, and does not perfectly agree with the
      creation of the world according to Genesis, I at first hesitated; but the
      Pope insisted, and at length I complied with his wish. The Holy Father
      assured me that he had been much interested by the perusal of the book. I
      made some allusion to the delicate points; upon which he said, 'No matter,
      no matter, my son; all that is exceedingly curious, and I must confess
      entirely new to me.' I then," continued M. Denon, "told His Holiness why I
      hesitated to lend him the work, which, I observed, he had excommunicated,
      together with its author. 'Excommunicated you, my son?' resumed the Pope
      in a tone of affectionate concern. 'I am very sorry for it, and assure you
      I was far from being aware of any such thing.'"
    
The Emperor assigned M. Denon to stay with the Pope at Fontainebleau; giving his noble prisoner the company of such a person was definitely a thoughtful gesture from Napoleon. When talking about his time with Pius VII, M. Denon shared the following story with me. "The Pope," he said, "was very fond of me. He always called me 'my son,' and he enjoyed chatting with me, especially about the Egyptian expedition. One day, he asked to read my book on Egypt, saying he was eager to see it; and since you know it isn’t quite orthodox and doesn’t fully align with the world's creation as stated in Genesis, I hesitated at first. But the Pope insisted, and eventually, I agreed to let him read it. The Holy Father told me he found the book very interesting. I mentioned a few sensitive topics, and he replied, 'No problem, no problem, my son; all of that is extremely interesting, and I have to admit it's completely new to me.' I then," continued M. Denon, "explained to His Holiness why I was hesitant to lend him the book, noting that he had excommunicated it along with its author. 'Excommunicated you, my son?' the Pope said with a tone of genuine concern. 'I’m very sorry to hear that, and I assure you I had no idea such a thing happened.'"







      When M. Denon related to me this anecdote he told me how greatly he had
      admired the virtues and resignation of the Holy Father; but he added that
      it would nevertheless have been easier to make him a martyr than to induce
      him to yield on any point until he should be restored to the temporal
      sovereignty of Rome, of which he considered himself the depositary, and
      which he would not endure the reproach of having willingly sacrificed.
      After settling the place of the Pope's residence Napoleon set off for
      Dresden, accompanied by Maria Louisa, who had expressed a wish to see her
      father.
    
When M. Denon shared this story with me, he explained how much he admired the Holy Father’s virtues and patience. However, he also mentioned that it would have been easier to make him a martyr than to convince him to compromise on any issue until he was restored to the temporal sovereignty of Rome, which he believed was rightfully his and which he refused to let anyone think he had willingly given up. After determining where the Pope would live, Napoleon headed to Dresden, accompanied by Maria Louisa, who had wanted to see her father.







      The Russian enterprise, the most gigantic, perhaps, that the genius of man
      ever conceived since the conquest of India by Alexander, now absorbed
      universal attention, and defied the calculations of reason. The Manzanares
      was forgotten, and nothing was thought of but the Niemen, already so
      celebrated by the raft of Tilsit. Thither, as towards a common centre,
      were moving men, horses, provisions, and baggage of every kind, from all
      parts of Europe. The hopes of our generals and the fears of all prudent
      men were directed to Russia. The war in Spain, which was becoming more and
      more unfortunate, excited but a feeble interest; and our most
      distinguished officers looked upon it as a disgrace to be sent to the
      Peninsula. In short, it was easy to foresee that the period was not far
      distant when the French would be obliged to recross the Pyrenees. Though
      the truth was concealed from the Emperor on many subjects, yet he was not
      deceived as to the situation of Spain in the spring of 1812. In February
      the Duke of Ragusa had frankly informed him that the armies of Spain and
      Portugal could not, without considerable reinforcements of men and money,
      hope for any important advantages since Ciudad-Rodrigo and Badajoz had
      fallen into the hands of the English.
    
The Russian campaign, probably the largest undertaking that human genius has ever imagined since Alexander conquered India, captured everyone's attention and defied all rational calculations. The Manzanares was forgotten, and all focus shifted to the Niemen, already famous for the raft of Tilsit. To this common center, people, horses, supplies, and all types of baggage from all over Europe converged. Our generals' hopes and the anxieties of all sensible individuals were directed toward Russia. The war in Spain, which was becoming increasingly disastrous, aroused only slight interest; our most distinguished officers considered it a disgrace to be sent to the Peninsula. In short, it was clear that it wouldn’t be long before the French would have to retreat back across the Pyrenees. Although the Emperor was kept in the dark about many issues, he was not misled regarding the state of Spain in the spring of 1812. In February, the Duke of Ragusa candidly informed him that the armies in Spain and Portugal could not expect any significant gains without substantial reinforcements in men and money, especially since Ciudad-Rodrigo and Badajoz had fallen to the English.







      Before he commenced his great operations on the Niemen and the Volga
      Napoleon made a journey to Dantzic, and Rapp, who was then Governor of
      that city, informed me of some curious particulars connected with the
      Imperial visit. The fact is, that if Rapp's advice had been listened to,
      and had been supported by men higher in rank than himself, Bonaparte would
      not have braved the chances of the Russian war until those chances turned
      against him. Speaking to me of the Russians Rapp said, "They will soon be
      as wise as we are! Every time we go to war with them we teach them how to
      beat us." I was struck with the originality and truth of this observation,
      which at the time I heard it was new, though it has been often repeated
      since.
    
Before he started his major operations on the Niemen and the Volga, Napoleon took a trip to Dantzic, and Rapp, who was the Governor of that city at the time, shared some interesting details about the Imperial visit. The truth is, if Rapp's advice had been taken seriously and backed by someone of higher rank than him, Bonaparte would not have risked engaging in the Russian war until the odds were more in his favor. Speaking about the Russians, Rapp said, "They will soon be as smart as we are! Every time we go to war with them, we show them how to defeat us." I was impressed by the originality and truth of this remark, which was new to me when I first heard it, even though it has been repeated often since.







      "On leaving Dresden," said Rapp to me, "Napoleon came to Dantzic. I
      expected a dressing; for, to tell you the truth, I had treated very
      cavalierly both his custom-house and its officers, who were raising up as
      many enemies to France as there were inhabitants in my Government. I had
      also warned him of all that has since happened in Russia, but I assure you
      I did not think myself quite so good a prophet. In the beginning of 1812 I
      thus wrote to him: 'If your Majesty should experience reverses you may
      depend on it that both Russians and Germans will rise up in a mass to
      shake off the yoke. There will be a crusade, and all your allies will
      abandon you. Even the King of Bavaria, on whom you rely so confidently,
      will join the coalition. I except only the King of Saxony. He, perhaps,
      might remain faithful to you; but his subjects will force him to make
      common cause with your enemies. The King of Naples," continued Rapp, "who
      had the command of the cavalry, had been to Dantzic before the Emperor. He
      did not seem to take a more favourable view of the approaching campaign
      than I did. Murat was dissatisfied that the Emperor would not consent to
      his rejoining him in Dresden; and he said that he would rather be a
      captain of grenadiers than a King such as he was."
    
"After leaving Dresden," Rapp said to me, "Napoleon arrived in Danzig. I thought I was going to get an earful because, honestly, I hadn’t treated his customs and their officers very well, and they were gathering enemies for France like there were people in my government. I had also warned him about everything that later happened in Russia, but I didn’t expect to be such a good prophet. At the start of 1812, I wrote to him: 'If you face setbacks, you can count on the fact that both Russians and Germans will rise up together to shake off the yoke. There will be a crusade, and all your allies will abandon you. Even the King of Bavaria, who you trust so much, will join the coalition. I only exclude the King of Saxony. He might stay loyal to you, but his people will force him to side with your enemies.' Rapp continued, 'The King of Naples, who commanded the cavalry, had been to Danzig before the Emperor. He didn’t seem to have a more positive outlook on the impending campaign than I did. Murat was unhappy that the Emperor wouldn’t let him rejoin him in Dresden, and he said he would rather be a captain of grenadiers than a King like he was.'"







      Here I interrupted Rapp to tell him what had fallen from Murat when I met
      him in the Champs Elysees "Bah!" resumed Rapp, "Murat, brave as he was,
      was a craven in Napoleon's presence! On the Emperor's arrival in Dantzic
      the first thing of which he spoke to me was the alliance he had just then
      concluded with Prussia and Austria. I could not refrain from telling him
      that we did a great deal of mischief as allies; a fact of which I was
      assured from the reports daily transmitted to me respecting the conduct of
      our troops. Bonaparte tossed his bead, as you know he was in the habit of
      doing when he was displeased. After a moment's silence, dropping the
      familiar thee and thou, he said, 'Monsieur le General, this is a torrent
      which must be allowed to run itself out. It will not last long. I must
      first ascertain whether Alexander decidedly wishes for war.' Then,
      suddenly changing the subject of conversation, he said, 'Have you not
      lately observed something extraordinary in Murat? I think he is quite
      altered. Is he ill?'—'Sire,' replied I, 'Murat is not ill, but he is
      out of spirits.'—'Out of spirits! but why? Is he not satisfied with
      being a King?'—'Sire, Murat says he is no King.'—'That is his
      own fault. Why does he make himself a Neapolitan? Why is he not a
      Frenchman? When he is in his Kingdom he commits all sorts of follies. He
      favours the trade of England; that I will not suffer.'
    
Here I interrupted Rapp to tell him what Murat had said when I ran into him in the Champs Elysees. "Bah!" Rapp replied, "Murat, brave as he was, was a coward in Napoleon's presence! When the Emperor arrived in Dantzic, the first thing he mentioned to me was the alliance he had just made with Prussia and Austria. I couldn't help but tell him that we did a lot of damage as allies; a fact I was certain of from the reports I received daily about the behavior of our troops. Bonaparte scoffed, as you know he always did when he was unhappy. After a moment of silence, dropping his usual formalities, he said, 'Monsieur le General, this is a storm that must be allowed to run its course. It won't last long. First, I need to find out if Alexander truly wants war.' Then, suddenly shifting the topic, he asked, 'Have you noticed anything strange about Murat lately? I think he seems quite different. Is he sick?' — 'Sire,' I replied, 'Murat is not sick, but he is feeling down.' — 'Feeling down! But why? Is he not happy being a King?' — 'Sire, Murat says he is not a King.' — 'That's his own doing. Why does he consider himself a Neapolitan? Why isn't he a Frenchman? When he's in his Kingdom, he makes all sorts of mistakes. He supports English trade; I won't tolerate that.'"







      "When," continued Rapp, "he spoke of the favour extended by Murat to the
      trade between Naples and England I thought my turn would come next; but I
      was deceived. No more was said on the subject, and when I was about to
      take my leave the Emperor said to me, as when in his best of humours,
      'Rapp, you will sup with me this evening.' I accordingly supped that
      evening with the Emperor, who had also invited the King of Naples and
      Berthier. Next day the Emperor visited the fortress, and afterwards
      returned to the Government Palace, where he received the civil and
      military authorities. He again invited Murat, Berthier, and me to supper.
      When we first sat down to table we were all very dull, for the Emperor was
      silent; and, as you well know, under such circumstances not even Murat
      himself dared to be the first to speak to him. At length Napoleon,
      addressing me, inquired how far it was from Cadiz to Dantzic. 'Too far,
      Sire,' replied I. 'I understand you, Monsieur le General, but in a few
      months the distance will be still greater.'—'So much the worse,
      Sire!' Here there was another pause. Neither Murat nor Berthier, on whom
      the Emperor fixed a scrutinising glance, uttered a word, and Napoleon
      again broke silence, but without addressing any one of us in particular:
      'Gentlemen,' said he in a solemn and rather low tone of voice, 'I see
      plainly that you are none of you inclined to fight again. The King of
      Naples does not wish to leave the fine climate of his dominions, Berthier
      wishes to enjoy the diversion of the chase at his estate of Gros Bois, and
      Rapp is impatient to be back to his hotel in Paris.' Would you believe
      it," pursued Rapp, "that neither Murat nor Berthier said a word in reply?
      and the ball again came to me. I told him frankly that what he said was
      perfectly true, and the King of Naples and the Prince of Neufchatel
      complimented me on my spirit, and observed that I was quite right in
      saying what I did. 'Well,' said I, 'since it was so very right, why did
      you not follow my example, and why leave me to say all?' You cannot
      conceive," added Rapp, "how confounded they both were, and especially
      Murat, though he was very differently situated from Berthier."
    
"When," Rapp continued, "he talked about the favor Murat showed towards the trade between Naples and England, I thought it would be my turn to speak next; but I was mistaken. The topic wasn't mentioned again, and just as I was about to leave, the Emperor said to me, in one of his more cheerful moods, 'Rapp, you'll join me for dinner this evening.' So, I ended up having dinner with the Emperor that night, along with the King of Naples and Berthier. The next day, the Emperor visited the fortress and later returned to the Government Palace, where he met with civil and military officials. He invited Murat, Berthier, and me to dinner again. When we first sat down, the atmosphere was very dull because the Emperor was quiet, and as you know, under such circumstances, even Murat didn’t dare to speak first. Finally, Napoleon turned to me and asked how far it was from Cadiz to Dantzic. 'Too far, Sire,' I replied. 'I understand you, General, but in a few months, the distance will be even greater.'—'So much the worse, Sire!' There was another pause. Neither Murat nor Berthier, who the Emperor was scrutinizing, said a thing, and Napoleon broke the silence again, but not directing his comments to any of us in particular: 'Gentlemen,' he said in a serious, somewhat soft voice, 'I can clearly see that none of you are keen to fight again. The King of Naples doesn’t want to leave the nice climate of his lands, Berthier wants to enjoy hunting at his estate in Gros Bois, and Rapp is eager to get back to his hotel in Paris.' Can you believe," Rapp continued, "that neither Murat nor Berthier replied? The focus shifted back to me. I told him honestly that what he said was absolutely true, and the King of Naples and Prince of Neufchatel praised my spirit and noted that I was right to say what I did. 'Well,' I said, 'if it was so right, why didn’t you follow my example and leave me to say everything?' You can't imagine," Rapp added, "how stunned they both were, especially Murat, even though he was in a very different position than Berthier."







      The negotiations which Bonaparte opened with Alexander, when he yet wished
      to seem averse to war, resembled those oratorical paraphrases which do not
      prevent us from coming to the conclusion we wish. The two Emperors equally
      desired war; the one with the view of consolidating his power, and the
      other in the hope of freeing himself from a yoke which threatened to
      reduce him to a state of vassalage, for it was little short of this to
      require a power like Russia to close her ports against England for the
      mere purpose of favouring the interests of France. At that time only two
      European powers were not tied to Napoleon's fate—Sweden and Turkey.
      Napoleon was anxious to gain the alliance of these two powers. With
      respect to Sweden his efforts were vain; and though, in fact, Turkey was
      then at war with Russia, yet the Grand Seignior was not now, as at the
      time of Sebastiani's embassy, subject to the influence of France.
    
The negotiations that Bonaparte started with Alexander, when he still wanted to appear against war, were like those rhetorical speeches that don’t stop us from reaching the conclusion we want. Both Emperors were looking for war; one to strengthen his power, and the other to escape a control that threatened to make him a vassal, as it was almost servitude to ask a power like Russia to close its ports to England just to benefit France. At that time, only two European powers weren’t tied to Napoleon's fate—Sweden and Turkey. Napoleon was eager to secure an alliance with these two nations. His efforts with Sweden were pointless; and although Turkey was technically at war with Russia, the Grand Seignior was not, as he had been during Sebastiani's embassy, under France’s influence.







      The peace, which was soon concluded at Bucharest, between Russia, and
      Turkey increased Napoleon's embarrassment. The left of the Russian army,
      secured by the neutrality of Turkey, was reinforced by Bagration's corps
      from Moldavia: it subsequently occupied the right of the Beresina, and
      destroyed the last hope of saving the wreck of the French army. It is
      difficult to conceive how Turkey could have allowed the consideration of
      injuries she had received from France to induce her to terminate the war
      with Russia when France was attacking that power with immense forces. The
      Turks never had a fairer opportunity for taking revenge on Russia, and,
      unfortunately for Napoleon, they suffered it to escape.
    
The peace agreement that was quickly reached in Bucharest between Russia and Turkey added to Napoleon's troubles. The left side of the Russian army, backed by Turkey's neutrality, was bolstered by Bagration's troops from Moldavia: they later took position at the right of the Beresina, and wiped out any last chance of rescuing the remnants of the French army. It's hard to understand how Turkey could have let past grievances with France lead them to end the war with Russia while France was attacking that country with overwhelming force. The Turks had a better chance than ever to get back at Russia, and sadly for Napoleon, they let that opportunity slip away.







      Napoleon was not more successful when he sought the alliance of a Prince
      whose fortune he had made, and who was allied to his family, but with whom
      he had never been on terms of good understanding. The Emperor Alexander
      had a considerable corps of troops in Finland destined to protect that
      country against the Sweden, Napoleon having consented to that occupation
      in order to gain the provisional consent of Alexander to the invasion of
      Spain. What was the course pursued by Napoleon when, being at war with
      Russia, he wished to detach Sweden from her alliance with Alexander? He
      intimated to Bernadotte that he had a sure opportunity of retaking
      Finland, a conquest which would gratify his subjects and win their
      attachment to him. By this alliance Napoleon wished to force Alexander not
      to withdraw the troops who were in the north of his Empire, but rather to
      augment their numbers in order to cover Finland and St. Petersburg. It was
      thus that Napoleon endeavoured to draw the Prince Royal into his
      coalition. It was of little consequence to Napoleon whether Bernadotte
      succeeded or not. The Emperor Alexander would nevertheless have been
      obliged to increase his force in Finland; that was all that Napoleon
      wished. In the gigantic struggle upon which France and Russia were about
      to enter the most trivial alliance was not to be neglected. In January
      1812 Davoust invaded Swedish Pomerania without any declaration of war, and
      without any apparent motive. Was this inconceivable violation of territory
      likely to dispose the Prince Royal of Sweden to the proposed alliance,
      even had that alliance not been adverse to the interests of his country?
      That was impossible; and Bernadotte took the part which was expected of
      him. He rejected the offers of Napoleon, and prepared for coming events.
    
Napoleon was not more successful when he tried to ally with a prince whose fortune he had created and who was connected to his family, but with whom he had never gotten along. Emperor Alexander had a significant number of troops in Finland to protect that country against Sweden, which Napoleon had allowed in exchange for Alexander's temporary agreement to invade Spain. What strategy did Napoleon pursue while at war with Russia, trying to pull Sweden away from its alliance with Alexander? He hinted to Bernadotte that he had a good chance to reclaim Finland, a victory that would please his people and win their loyalty. Through this alliance, Napoleon aimed to force Alexander not to withdraw his troops from the north of his empire but rather to send more to secure Finland and St. Petersburg. This was how Napoleon attempted to draw the Prince Royal into his coalition. It didn’t matter to Napoleon whether Bernadotte succeeded; he just wanted Alexander to increase his forces in Finland, which was all he was after. In the massive conflict that France and Russia were about to face, even the smallest alliance couldn’t be overlooked. In January 1812, Davoust invaded Swedish Pomerania without declaring war or any clear reason. Would this shocking violation of territory make the Prince Royal of Sweden inclined to accept the proposed alliance, even if that alliance was against his country’s interests? That was unlikely, and Bernadotte took the expected stance. He rejected Napoleon's offers and prepared for what was to come.







      The Emperor Alexander wished to withdraw his force from Finland for the
      purpose of more effectively opposing the immense army which threatened his
      States. Unwilling to expose Finland to an attack on the part of Sweden, he
      had an interview on the 28th of August 1812, at Abo, with the
      Prince-Royal, to come to an arrangement with him for uniting their
      interests. I know that the Emperor of Russia pledged himself, whatever
      might happen, to protect Bernadotte against the fate of the new dynasties,
      to guarantee the possession of his throne, and promised that he should
      have Norway as a compensation for Finland. He even went so far as to hint
      that Bernadotte might supersede Napoleon. Bernadotte adopted all the
      propositions of Alexander, and from that moment Sweden made common cause
      against Napoleon. The Prince Royal's conduct has been much blamed, but the
      question resolved itself into one of mere political interest. Could
      Bernadotte, a Swede by adoption, prefer the alliance of an ambitious
      sovereign whose vengeance he had to fear, and who had sanctioned the
      seizure of Finland to that of a powerful monarch, his formidable
      neighbour, his protector in Sweden, and where hostility might effectually
      support the hereditary claims of young Gustavus? Sweden, in joining
      France, would thereby have declared herself the enemy of England. Where,
      then, would have been her navy, her trade and even her existence?
    
The Emperor Alexander wanted to pull his troops out of Finland to better confront the huge army threatening his States. Not wanting to leave Finland open to an attack from Sweden, he met with the Prince-Royal on August 28, 1812, in Abo, to discuss uniting their interests. I know that the Emperor of Russia promised, no matter what happened, to protect Bernadotte from the fate of the new dynasties, to ensure he kept his throne, and promised that he would receive Norway as compensation for Finland. He even suggested that Bernadotte might take Napoleon's place. Bernadotte accepted all of Alexander's proposals, and from that point on, Sweden joined forces against Napoleon. The Prince Royal's actions have been widely criticized, but the issue really came down to political interests. Could Bernadotte, a Swede by adoption, choose to ally with an ambitious ruler whom he had to fear, and who had approved the takeover of Finland, instead of aligning with a powerful monarch, his strong neighbor, who offered him protection in Sweden, and where hostility might effectively strengthen the hereditary claims of young Gustavus? By siding with France, Sweden would have declared itself an enemy of England. So, what would have happened to its navy, trade, and even its existence?








 


 




















      CHAPTER XXVII.
    



      1812.
    
1812.


   Changeableness of Bonaparte's plans and opinions—Articles for the
   'Moniteur' dictated by the First Consul—The Protocol of the
   Congress of Chatillon—Conversations with Davoust at Hamburg—
   Promise of the Viceroyalty of Poland—Hope and disappointment of the
   Poles—Influence of illusion on Bonaparte—The French in Moscow—
   Disasters of the retreat—Mallet's conspiracy—Intelligence of the
   affair communicated to Napoleon at Smolensko—Circumstances detailed
   by Rapp—Real motives of Napoleon's return to Paris—Murat, Ney, and
   Eugène—Power of the Italians to endure cold—Napoleon's exertions
   to repair his losses—Defection of General York—Convocation of a
   Privy Council—War resolved on—Wavering of the Pope—Useless
   negotiations with Vienna—Maria Louisa appointed Regent.

   The inconsistency of Bonaparte's plans and views—Articles for the 'Moniteur' dictated by the First Consul—The Protocol of the Congress of Chatillon—Conversations with Davoust in Hamburg—Promise of the Viceroyalty of Poland—Hope and disappointment of the Poles—Impact of illusion on Bonaparte—The French in Moscow—Disasters of the retreat—Mallet's conspiracy—Information about the situation communicated to Napoleon at Smolensko—Details provided by Rapp—True reasons for Napoleon's return to Paris—Murat, Ney, and Eugène—The Italians' ability to withstand cold—Napoleon's efforts to recover his losses—Defection of General York—Summoning of a Privy Council—Decision for war—Pope's indecision—Fruitless negotiations with Vienna—Maria Louisa appointed Regent.







      It may now he asked whether Bonaparte, previous to entering upon the last
      campaign, had resolved on restoring Poland to independence. The fact is
      that Bonaparte, as Emperor, never entertained any positive wish to
      reestablish the old Kingdom of Poland, though at a previous period he was
      strongly inclined to that re-establishment, of which he felt the
      necessity. He may have said that he would re-establish the Kingdom of
      Poland, but I beg leave to say that that is no reason for believing that
      he entertained any such design. He had said, and even sworn, that he would
      never aggrandise the territory of the Empire! The changeableness of
      Bonaparte's ideas, plans, and projects renders it difficult to master
      them; but they may be best understood when it is considered that all
      Napoleon's plans and conceptions varied with his fortunes. Thus, it is not
      unlikely that he might at one time have considered the reestablishment of
      Poland as essential to European policy, and afterwards have regarded it as
      adverse to the development of his ambition. Who can venture to guess what
      passed in his mind when dazzled by his glory at Dresden, and whether in
      one of his dreams he might not have regarded the Empire of the Jagellons
      as another gem in the Imperial diadem? The truth is that Bonaparte, when
      General-in-Chief of the army of Egypt and First Consul, had deeply at
      heart the avenging the dismemberment of Poland, and I have often conversed
      with him on this most interesting subject, upon which we entirely
      concurred in opinion. But times and circumstances were changed since we
      walked together on the terrace of Cairo and mutually deplored the death of
      young Sulkowski. Had Sulkowski lived Napoleon's favourable intentions with
      respect to Poland might perhaps have been confirmed. A fact which explains
      to me the coolness, I may almost say the indifference, of Bonaparte to the
      resurrection of Poland is that the commencement of the Consulate was the
      period at which that measure particularly occupied his attention. How
      often did he converse on the subject with me and other persons who may yet
      recollect his sentiments! It was the topic on which he most loved to
      converse, and on which he spoke with feeling and enthusiasm. In the
      'Moniteur' of the period here alluded to I could point out more than one
      article without signature or official character which Napoleon dictated to
      me, and the insertion of which in that journal, considering the energy of
      certain expressions, sufficiently proves that they could have emanated
      from none but Bonaparte. It was usually in the evening that he dictated to
      me these articles. Then, when the affairs of the day were over, he would
      launch into the future, and give free scope to his vast projects. Some of
      these articles were characterised by so little moderation that the First
      Consul would very often destroy them in the morning, smiling at the
      violent ebullitions of the preceding night. At other times I took the
      liberty of not sending them to the 'Moniteur' on the night on which they
      were dictated, and though he might earnestly wish their insertion I
      adduced reasons good or bad, to account for the delay. He would then read
      over the article in question, and approve of my conduct; but he would
      sometimes add, "It is nevertheless true that with an independent Kingdom
      of Poland, and 150,000 disposable troops in the east of France, I should
      always be master of Russia, Prussia, and Austria."—"General," I
      would reply, "I am entirely of your opinion; but wherefore awaken the
      suspicions of the interested parties. Leave all to time and
      circumstances."
    
It might now be asked whether Bonaparte decided to restore Poland's independence before starting the last campaign. The truth is that Bonaparte, as Emperor, never had a genuine desire to reestablish the old Kingdom of Poland, even though he was once strongly inclined to it, feeling it was necessary. He may have claimed he would restore the Kingdom of Poland, but I would argue that doesn't mean he actually intended to do so. He had stated, and even sworn, that he would never expand the territory of the Empire! Bonaparte's shifting ideas, plans, and projects make it hard to fully grasp them; however, they can be best understood by recognizing that all Napoleon's strategies and visions changed with his fortunes. For example, he might have seen the reestablishment of Poland as crucial for European policy at one point, only to later view it as a hindrance to his ambitions. Who can really know what he thought when blinded by his glory at Dresden, or whether at one point he might have seen the Empire of the Jagellons as another jewel in his imperial crown? The fact is, when Bonaparte was General-in-Chief of the army in Egypt and First Consul, he genuinely cared about avenging Poland's dismemberment. I often talked with him about this very important issue, and we completely agreed on it. But times and circumstances had changed since we walked together on the terrace in Cairo, mourning the death of young Sulkowski. If Sulkowski had lived, Napoleon's favorable intentions towards Poland might have been strengthened. What explains Bonaparte's coolness—or perhaps indifference—to Poland's resurrection is that the beginning of the Consulate was when that issue was particularly on his mind. How often did he discuss it with me and others who might still remember his views! It was his favorite topic to talk about, and he spoke with feeling and enthusiasm. In the 'Moniteur' from that time, I could point out several unsigned articles that Napoleon dictated to me, which, considering the force of certain phrases, clearly came only from him. He usually dictated these articles in the evening after the day's affairs were done, allowing himself to dream big about the future. Some of these pieces were so extreme that the First Consul would often destroy them in the morning, chuckling at the intense outbursts from the night before. At other times, I would take the liberty of not sending them to the 'Moniteur' the night they were dictated, and even if he was keen to have them published, I would come up with various reasons—valid or not—to explain the delay. He would then read the article again and approve of my decision, but he would sometimes add, "It is still true that with an independent Kingdom of Poland and 150,000 troops ready in eastern France, I’d always be able to control Russia, Prussia, and Austria." I would respond, "General, I completely agree; but why stir up the suspicions of those involved? Let time and circumstances handle it."







      The reader may have to learn, and not, perhaps, without some surprise,
      that in the protocol of the sittings of the Congress of Chatillon Napoleon
      put forward the spoliation of Poland by the three principal powers allied
      against him as a claim to a more advantageous peace, and to territorial
      indemnities for France. In policy he was right, but the report of foreign
      cannon was already loud enough to drown the best of arguments.
    
The reader might be surprised to learn that in the notes from the Congress of Chatillon, Napoleon presented the division of Poland by the three main powers allied against him as a reason for a better peace deal and for territorial compensation for France. Politically, he was correct, but the sound of foreign cannons was already too loud to make even the strongest arguments heard.







      After the ill-timed and useless union of the Hanse Towns to France I
      returned to Hamburg in the spring of 1811 to convey my family to France. I
      then had some conversation with Davoust. On one occasion I said to him
      that if his hopes were realised, and my sad predictions respecting the war
      with Russia overthrown, I hoped to see the restoration of the Kingdom of
      Poland. Davoust replied that that event was probable, since he had
      Napoleon's promise of the Viceroyalty of that Kingdom, and as several of
      his comrades had been promised starosties. Davoust made no secret of this,
      and it was generally known throughout Hamburg and the north of Germany.
    
After the poorly timed and pointless alliance of the Hanse Towns with France, I returned to Hamburg in the spring of 1811 to move my family to France. I then had a discussion with Davoust. At one point, I told him that if his hopes came true and my gloomy predictions about the war with Russia were proven wrong, I looked forward to seeing the Kingdom of Poland restored. Davoust replied that this was likely, as he had Napoleon's promise for the Viceroyalty of that Kingdom, and several of his colleagues had been promised positions of authority. Davoust was open about this, and it was widely known throughout Hamburg and northern Germany.







      But notwithstanding what Davoust said respecting. Napoleon's intentions I
      considered that these promises had been conditional rather than positive.
    
But despite what Davoust said about Napoleon's intentions, I thought these promises were more conditional than definite.







      On Napoleon's arrival in Poland the Diet of Warsaw, assured, as there
      seemed reason to be, of the Emperor's sentiments, declared the Kingdom
      free and independent. The different treaties of dismemberment were
      pronounced to be null; and certainly the Diet had a right so to act, for
      it calculated upon his support. But the address of the Diet to Napoleon,
      in which these principles were declared, was ill received. His answer was
      full of doubt and indecision, the motive of which could not be blamed. To
      secure the alliance of Austria against Russia he had just guaranteed to
      his father-in-law the integrity of his dominions. Napoleon therefore
      declared that he could take no part in any movement or resolution which
      might disturb Austria in the possession of the Polish provinces forming a
      part of her Empire. To act otherwise, he said, would be to separate
      himself from his alliance with Austria, and to throw her into the arms of
      Russia. But with regard to the Polish-Russian provinces, Napoleon declared
      he would see what he could do, should Providence favour the good cause.
      These vague and obscure expressions did not define what he intended to do
      for the Poles in the event of success crowning his vast enterprises. They
      excited the distrust of the Poles, and had no other result. On this
      subject, however, an observation occurs which is of some force as an
      apology for Napoleon. Poland was successively divided between three
      powers, Russia, Austria, and Prussia, with each of which Napoleon had been
      at war, but never with all three at once. He had therefore never been able
      to take advantage of his victories to re-establish Poland without injuring
      the interests of neutral powers or of his allies. Hence it may be
      concluded not only that he never had the positive will which would have
      triumphed over all obstacles, but also that there never was a possibility
      of realising those dreams and projects of revenge in which he had indulged
      on the banks of the Nile, as it were to console the departed spirit of
      Sulkowski.
    
On Napoleon's arrival in Poland, the Diet of Warsaw, feeling confident about the Emperor's feelings, declared the Kingdom free and independent. They declared the various treaties that had divided the land to be void, and they had every right to do so since they relied on his support. However, the Diet's address to Napoleon, where these principles were stated, was met with a poor response. His reply was filled with uncertainty, which was understandable. To secure Austria's alliance against Russia, he had just promised his father-in-law the integrity of his territories. Therefore, Napoleon announced that he couldn't engage in any actions or resolutions that might disturb Austria's control over the Polish regions that were part of her Empire. To do otherwise, he said, would mean breaking his alliance with Austria and pushing her into Russia's arms. However, regarding the Polish-Russian territories, Napoleon said he would see what he could do if fate favored the good cause. These vague and unclear statements didn’t clarify what he intended to do for the Poles if his grand plans succeeded. They raised suspicions among the Poles and led to no other outcome. However, it’s worth noting that Poland had been divided among three powers—Russia, Austria, and Prussia—against which Napoleon had fought, but never against all three at the same time. He had never been able to use his victories to restore Poland without hurting the interests of neutral powers or his allies. Thus, it can be concluded not only that he never had the strong will needed to overcome all obstacles but also that there was never a real possibility of realizing the revengeful dreams and plans he had entertained by the Nile, so to speak, to console the memory of Sulkowski.







      Bonaparte's character presents many unaccountable incongruities. Although
      the most positive man that perhaps ever existed, yet there never was one
      who more readily yielded to the charm of illusion. In many circumstances
      the wish and the reality were to him one and the same thing. He never
      indulged in greater illusions than at the beginning of the campaign of
      Moscow. Even before the approach of the disasters which accompanied the
      most fatal retreat recorded in history, all sensible persons concurred in
      the opinion that the Emperor ought to have passed the winter of 1812-13 in
      Poland, and have resumed his vast enterprises in the spring. But his
      natural impatience impelled him forward as it were unconsciously, and he
      seemed to be under the influence of an invisible demon stronger than even
      his own strong will. This demon was ambition. He who knew so well the
      value of time, never sufficiently understood its power, and how much is
      sometimes gained by delay. Yet Caesar's Commentaries, which were his
      favourite study, ought to have shown him that Caesar did not conquer Gaul
      in one campaign. Another illusion by which Napoleon was misled during the
      campaign of Moscow, and perhaps past experience rendered it very
      excusable, was the belief that the Emperor Alexander would propose peace
      when he saw him at the head of his army on the Russian territory. The
      prolonged stay of Bonaparte at Moscow can indeed be accounted for in no
      other way than by supposing that he expected the Russian Cabinet would
      change its opinion and consent to treat for peace. However, whatever might
      have been the reason, after his long and useless stay in Moscow Napoleon
      left that city with the design of taking up his winter quarters in Poland;
      but Fate now frowned upon Napoleon, and in that dreadful retreat the
      elements seemed leagued with the Russians to destroy the most formidable
      army ever commanded by one chief. To find a catastrophe in history
      comparable to that of the Beresina we must go back to the destruction of
      the legions of Varus.
    
Bonaparte's character shows a lot of puzzling contradictions. Although he was probably the most determined person who ever lived, he also easily fell under the spell of illusion. For him, in many situations, desire and reality felt like the same thing. He held onto even bigger illusions at the start of the Moscow campaign. Before the disasters of the most disastrous retreat in history hit, all rational people agreed that the Emperor should have spent the winter of 1812-13 in Poland and picked up his grand plans in the spring. But his innate impatience pushed him forward almost unconsciously, as if he were under the influence of an invisible force stronger than his own strong will. That force was ambition. He understood the importance of time well but never fully grasped its power or how much could be gained by waiting. Yet, Caesar’s Commentaries, which he loved to study, should have taught him that Caesar didn’t conquer Gaul in one campaign. Another misconception that misled Napoleon during the Moscow campaign, which past experiences might make excusable, was the belief that Emperor Alexander would suggest peace when he saw him leading his army on Russian soil. The reason for Bonaparte's extended stay in Moscow can only be explained by assuming he thought the Russian government would change its mind and agree to negotiate for peace. Regardless of the reason, after his long and pointless stay in Moscow, Napoleon left the city intending to set up his winter quarters in Poland; however, Fate turned against him, and during that terrifying retreat, it seemed like the elements had teamed up with the Russians to destroy the most formidable army ever led by a single commander. To find a historical disaster comparable to that of the Beresina, we need to look back to the destruction of Varus's legions.







      Notwithstanding the general dismay which prevailed in Paris that capital
      continued tranquil, when by a singular chance, on the very day on which
      Napoleon evacuated the burning city of Moscow, Mallet attempted his
      extraordinary enterprise. This General, who had always professed
      Republican principles, and was a man of bold decided character, after
      having been imprisoned for some time, obtained the permission of
      Government to live in Paris in a hospital house situated near the Barriere
      de Trove. Of Mallet's, conspiracy it is not necessary to say much after
      the excellent account given of it in the Memoirs of the Duc de Rovigo.
      Mallet's plan was to make it be believed that Bonaparte had been killed at
      Moscow, and that a new Government was established under the authority of
      the Senate. But what could Mallet do? Absolutely nothing: and had his Government
      continued three days he would have experienced a more favourable chance
      than that which he ought reasonably to have expected than asserted that
      the Emperor was dead, but an estafette from Russia would reveal the truth,
      resuscitate Napoleon, and overwhelm with confusion Mallet and his
      proclamation. His enterprise was that of a madman. The French were too
      weary of troubles to throw themselves into the arms of, Mallet or his
      associate Lahorie, who had figured so disgracefully on the trial of
      Moreau., Yet, in spite of the evident impossibility of success, it must be
      confessed that considerable ingenuity and address marked the commencement
      of the conspiracy. On the 22d of October Mallet escaped from the hospital
      house and went to Colonel Soulier, who commanded the tenth cohort of the
      National Guard, whose barracks were situated exactly behind the hospital
      house. Mallet was loaded with a parcel of forged orders which he had
      himself prepared. He introduced himself to Soulier under the name of
      General La Motte, and said that he came from General Mallet.
    
Despite the general panic in Paris, the city remained calm when, by a strange coincidence, on the exact day Napoleon evacuated the burning city of Moscow, Mallet attempted his unusual mission. This General, who had always claimed to support Republican ideals and had a bold, determined personality, had been imprisoned for a while but eventually got permission from the Government to live in a hospital near the Barriere de Trove. There’s not much more to say about Mallet's conspiracy after the detailed account given in the Memoirs of the Duc de Rovigo. Mallet’s plan was to convince people that Bonaparte had been killed in Moscow and that a new government had been established under the Senate's authority. But what could Mallet actually do? Absolutely nothing: even if his government managed to hold on for three days, he would have had a better chance than what he could reasonably expect, as a dispatch from Russia would reveal the truth, revive Napoleon, and leave Mallet and his proclamation in utter embarrassment. His scheme was that of a madman. The French were too exhausted from the chaos to turn to Mallet or his partner Lahorie, who had badly embarrassed themselves during the trial of Moreau. Yet, despite the clear impossibility of success, it must be acknowledged that the beginning of the conspiracy showed considerable cleverness and skill. On October 22, Mallet escaped from the hospital and went to Colonel Soulier, who led the tenth cohort of the National Guard, with its barracks located directly behind the hospital. Mallet carried a package of forged orders that he had created himself. He introduced himself to Soulier as General La Motte, claiming to be coming from General Mallet.







      Colonel Soulier on hearing of the Emperor's death was affected to tears.
      He immediately ordered the adjutant to assemble the cohort and obey the
      orders of General La Motte, to whom he expressed his regret for being
      himself too ill to leave his bed. It was then two o'clock in the morning,
      and the forged documents respecting the Emperor's death slid the new form
      of Government were read to the troops by lamplight. Mallet then hastily
      set off with 1200 men to La Force, and liberated the Sieurs Gudal and
      Laholze, who were confined there. Mallet informed them of the Emperor's
      death and of the change of Government; gave them some orders, in obedience
      to which the Minister and Prefect of Police were arrested in their hotel.
    
Colonel Soulier, upon hearing of the Emperor's death, was brought to tears. He quickly instructed the adjutant to gather the troops and follow the orders of General La Motte, expressing his regret for being too ill to get out of bed. It was then two o'clock in the morning, and the forged documents regarding the Emperor's death and the new form of Government were read to the soldiers by lamplight. Mallet then hurried off with 1,200 men to La Force and freed Sieurs Gudal and Laholze, who were being held there. Mallet informed them of the Emperor's death and the change in Government, and gave them some orders, which led to the arrest of the Minister and Prefect of Police at their hotel.







      I was then at Courbevoie, and I went to Paris on that very morning to
      breakfast, as I frequently did, with the Minister of Police. My surprise
      may be imagined when
    
I was then in Courbevoie, and that morning I went to Paris for breakfast, as I often did, with the Minister of Police. You can imagine my surprise when






 —[General Mallet gave out that the Emperor was killed under the
   walls of Moscow on the 8th of October; he could not take any other
   day without incurring the risk of being contradicted by the arrival
   of the regular courier. The Emperor being dead, he concluded that
   the Senate ought to be invested with the supreme authority, and he
   therefore resolved to address himself in the name of that body to
   the nation and the army. In a proclamation to the soldiers he
   deplored the death of the Emperor; in another, after announcing the
   abolition of the Imperial system and the Restoration of the
   Republic, he indicated the manner in which the Government was to be
   reconstructed, described the branches into which public authority
   was to be divided, and named the Directors. Attached to the
   different documents there appeared the signatures of several
   Senators whose names he recollected but with whom he had ceased to
   have any intercourse for a great number of years. These
   signatures were all written by Mallet, and he drew up a decree in
   the name of the Senate, and signed by the same Senators, appointing
   himself Governor of Paris, and commander of the troops of the first
   military division. He also drew up other decrees in the same form
   which purported to promote to higher ranks all the military officers
   he intended to make instruments in the execution of his enterprise.

   He ordered one regiment to close all the barriers of Paris, and
   allow no person to pass through them. This was done: so that in all
   the neighbouring towns from which assistance, in case of need, might
   have been obtained, nothing was known of the transactions in Paris.
   He sent the other regiments to occupy the Bank, the Treasury, and
   different Ministerial offices. At the Treasury some resistance was
   made. The minister of that Department was on the spot, and he
   employed the guard of his household in maintaining his authority.
   But in the whole of the two regiments of the Qnard not a single,
   objection was started to the execution of Mallet's orders (Memoirs
   of the Duc de Rivogo, tome vi. p. 20.)]— 
—[General Mallet announced that the Emperor was killed under the walls of Moscow on October 8th; he couldn’t choose any other date without risking being contradicted by the arrival of the regular courier. With the Emperor dead, he figured that the Senate should take on supreme authority, and he decided to address the nation and the army in the name of that body. In a proclamation to the soldiers, he expressed sorrow over the Emperor’s death; in another proclamation, after announcing the end of the Imperial system and the Restoration of the Republic, he outlined how the Government would be restructured, explained how public authority would be divided into branches, and named the Directors. Attached to the various documents were the signatures of several Senators he remembered but hadn’t had contact with for many years. All these signatures were written by Mallet himself, and he created a decree in the name of the Senate, signed by the same Senators, appointing himself Governor of Paris and commander of the troops in the first military division. He also drafted other decrees in the same format that aimed to promote all the military officers he intended to use to carry out his plan.

He ordered one regiment to close all the barriers of Paris and prevent anyone from passing through. This was executed, so that in all the nearby towns where help might be sought if needed, nothing was known about what was happening in Paris. He sent the other regiments to occupy the Bank, the Treasury, and various government offices. At the Treasury, there was some resistance. The minister in charge was present and used his household guard to assert his authority. However, among the two regiments of the Guard, not a single objection was raised against the execution of Mallet’s orders (Memoirs of the Duc de Rivogo, tome vi. p. 20.)]—







      I learned from the porter that the Duc de Rovigo had been arrested and
      carried to the prison of La Force. I went into the house and was informed,
      to my great astonishment, that the ephemeral Minister was being measured
      for his official suit, an act which so completely denoted the character of
      the conspirator that it gave me an insight into the business.
    
I found out from the porter that the Duc de Rovigo had been arrested and taken to La Force prison. I walked into the house and was shocked to learn that the temporary Minister was being fitted for his official suit, an action that clearly revealed the conspirator's nature and gave me a glimpse into what was going on.







      Mallet repaired to General Hulin, who had the command of Paris. He
      informed him that he had been directed by the Minister of Police to arrest
      him and seal his papers. Hulin asked to see the order, and then entered
      his cabinet, where Mallet followed him, and just as Hulin was turning
      round to speak to him he fired a pistol in his face. Hulin fell: the ball
      entered his cheek, but the wound was not mortal. The most singular
      circumstance connected with the whole affair is, that the captain whom
      Mallet had directed to follow him, and who accompanied him to Hulin's, saw
      nothing extraordinary in all this, and did nothing to stop it. Mallet next
      proceeded, very composedly, to Adjutant-General Doucet's. It happened that
      one of the inspectors of the police was there. He recognised General
      Mallet as being a man under his supervision. He told him that he had no
      right to quit the hospital house without leave, and ordered him to be
      arrested. Mallet, seeing that all was over, was in the act of drawing a
      pistol from his pocket, but being observed was seized and disarmed. Thus
      terminated this extraordinary conspiracy, for which fourteen lives paid
      the forfeit; but, with the exception of Mallet, Guidal, and Lahorie, all
      the others concerned in it were either machines or dupes.
    
Mallet went to see General Hulin, who was in charge of Paris. He told him that he had been ordered by the Minister of Police to arrest him and seal his papers. Hulin asked to see the order, then went into his office, with Mallet following him. Just as Hulin turned to talk to him, Mallet fired a pistol at his face. Hulin fell; the bullet hit his cheek, but it wasn't a fatal wound. The most unusual thing about this whole situation is that the captain Mallet had told to follow him, who went with him to Hulin's, saw nothing out of the ordinary and did nothing to intervene. Mallet then calmly went to Adjutant-General Doucet's office. Coincidentally, one of the police inspectors was there. He recognized General Mallet as someone under his watch. He told him that he had no right to leave the hospital without permission and ordered him to be arrested. Mallet, realizing everything was lost, was about to pull a pistol from his pocket, but since he was noticed, he was grabbed and disarmed. This is how this extraordinary conspiracy ended, costing fourteen lives; however, apart from Mallet, Guidal, and Lahorie, everyone else involved was either a pawn or a dupe.







      This affair produced but little effect in Paris, for the enterprise and
      its result were make known simultaneously. But it was thought droll enough
      that the Minister and Prefect of Police should be imprisoned by the men
      who only the day before were their prisoners. Next day I went to see
      Savary, who had not yet recovered from the stupefaction caused by his
      extraordinary adventure. He was aware that his imprisonment; though it
      lasted only half an hour, was a subject of merriment to the Parisians. The
      Emperor, as I have already mentioned, left Moscow on the day when Mallet
      made his bold attempt, that is to say, the 19th of October. He was at
      Smolensko when he heard the news. Rapp, who had been wounded before the
      entrance into Moscow, but who was sufficiently recovered to return home,
      was with Napoleon when the latter received the despatches containing an
      account of what had happened in Paris. He informed me that Napoleon was
      much agitated on perusing them, and that he launched into abuse of the
      inefficiency of the police. Rapp added that he did not confine himself to
      complaints against the agents of his authority. "Is, then, my power so
      insecure," said he, "that it may be put in peril by a single individual,
      and a prisoner? It would appear that my crown is not fixed very firmly on
      my head if in my own capital the bold stroke of three adventurers can
      shake it. Rapp, misfortune never comes alone; this is the complement of
      what is passing here. I cannot be everywhere; but I must go back to Paris;
      my presence there is indispensable to reanimate public opinion. I must
      have men and money. Great successes and great victories will repair all. I
      must set off." Such were the motives which induced the Emperor to leave
      his army. It is not without indignation that I have heard his precipitate
      departure attributed to personal cowardice. He was a stranger to such
      feelings, and was never more happy than on the field of battle. I can
      readily conceive that he was much alarmed on hearing of Mallet's
      enterprise. The remarks which he made to Rapp were those which he knew
      would be made by the public, and he well knew that the affair was
      calculated to banish those illusions of power and stability with which he
      endeavoured to surround his government.
    
This situation had little impact in Paris because the operation and its outcome were revealed at the same time. However, it was considered quite amusing that the Minister and the Prefect of Police ended up being imprisoned by the very men who had been their captives just the day before. The next day, I went to see Savary, who still hadn't recovered from the shock of his strange experience. He knew that even though his imprisonment lasted only half an hour, it had become a source of laughter for the people of Paris. As I mentioned before, the Emperor left Moscow on the same day that Mallet made his audacious attempt, which was the 19th of October. He was in Smolensk when he heard the news. Rapp, who had been injured before entering Moscow but was well enough to return home, was with Napoleon when the latter received the reports detailing what had happened in Paris. He told me that Napoleon was very agitated as he read them and he criticized the incompetence of the police. Rapp added that Napoleon's complaints weren't just directed at his authority's agents. "Is my power so fragile," he said, "that it can be threatened by a single person, a prisoner at that? It seems my crown isn’t secured very tightly if the reckless actions of three adventurers in my own capital can shake it. Rapp, misfortune never comes alone; this is just the culmination of what's happening here. I can't be everywhere, but I need to return to Paris; my presence there is crucial to revive public sentiment. I need men and money. Great achievements and victories will fix everything. I have to leave." These were the reasons that compelled the Emperor to leave his army. It's infuriating that his swift departure has been labeled as personal cowardice. He was alien to such feelings and was never happier than on the battlefield. I can easily believe he was quite alarmed at hearing about Mallet's scheme. The comments he made to Rapp were precisely what he knew the public would be saying, and he understood well that this incident would shatter the illusions of power and stability that he tried to project around his government.







      On leaving Moscow Napoleon consigned the wrecks of his army to the care of
      his most distinguished generals to Murat who had so ably commanded the
      cavalry, but who abandoned the army to return to Naples; and to Ney, the
      hero, rather than the Prince of the Moskowa, whose name will be immortal
      in the annals of glory, as his death will be eternal in the annals of
      party revenge. Amidst the general disorder Eugène, more than any other
      chief, maintained a sort of discipline among the Italians; and it was
      remarked that the troops of the south engaged in the fatal campaign of
      Moscow had endured the rigour of the cold better than those troops who
      were natives of less genial climates.
    
Upon leaving Moscow, Napoleon entrusted the remnants of his army to his most notable generals: Murat, who had effectively led the cavalry but chose to abandon the army to return to Naples, and Ney, the hero—rather than the Prince of the Moskowa—whose name will forever be remembered in the records of glory, just as his death will be everlasting in the chronicles of party revenge. Amidst the general chaos, Eugène, more than any other commander, upheld a semblance of discipline among the Italians; it was noted that the southern troops involved in the disastrous Moscow campaign withstood the biting cold better than those from less temperate regions.







      Napoleon's return from Moscow was not like his returns from the campaigns
      of Vienna and Tilsit when he came back crowned with laurels, and bringing
      peace as the reward of his triumphs. It was remarked that Napoleon's first
      great disaster followed the first enterprise he undertook after his
      marriage with Maria Louisa. This tended to confirm the popular belief that
      the presence of Josephine was favourable to his fortune; and superstitious
      as he sometimes was, I will not venture to affirm that he himself did not
      adopt this ides. He now threw off even the semblance of legality in the
      measures of his government: he assumed arbitrary power, under the
      impression that the critical circumstances in which he was placed would
      excuse everything. But, however inexplicable were the means to which the
      Emperor resorted to procure resources, it is but just to acknowledge that
      they were the consequence of his system of government, and that he evinced
      inconceivable activity in repairing his losses so as to place himself in a
      situation to resist his enemies, and restore the triumph of the French
      standard.
    
Napoleon's return from Moscow was nothing like his returns from the campaigns of Vienna and Tilsit when he came back celebrated and bringing peace as the reward for his victories. It was noted that Napoleon's first major disaster came after the first campaign he took on following his marriage to Maria Louisa. This seemed to reinforce the popular belief that Josephine's presence was a good omen for his success; and, despite his occasional superstitions, I won’t claim he didn’t also believe this idea. He completely abandoned any pretense of legality in his government's actions: he took on absolute power, thinking that the tough situation he was in would justify everything. However unpredictable the methods the Emperor used to gather resources were, it’s fair to say that they resulted from his style of governance, and he showed incredible determination in making up for his losses to better position himself to fight off his enemies and restore the French flag's triumph.







      But in spite of all Napoleon's endeavours the disasters of the campaign of
      Russia were daily more and more sensibly felt. The King of Prussia had
      played a part which was an acknowledgment of his weakness in joining
      France, instead of openly declaring himself for the cause of Russia, which
      was also his. Then took place the defection of General York, who commanded
      the Prussian contingent to Napoleon's army. The King of Prussia, though no
      doubt secretly satisfied with the conduct of General York, had him tried
      and condemned; but shortly after that sovereign commanded in person the
      troops which had turned against ours. The defection of the Prussians
      produced a very ill effect, and it was easy to perceive that other
      defections would follow. Napoleon, foreseeing the fatal chances which this
      event was likely to draw upon him, assembled a privy council, composed of
      the Ministers and some of the great officers of his household. MM. de
      Talleyrand and Cambacérès, and the President of the senate were present.
      Napoleon asked whether, in the complicated difficulties of our situation,
      it would be more advisable to negotiate for peace or to prepare for a new
      war. Cambacérès and Talleyrand gave their opinion in favour of peace,
      which however, Napoleon would not hear of after a defeat; but the Duc de
      Feltre,—[Clarke]—knowing how to touch the susceptible chord in
      the mind of Bonaparte, said that he would consider the Emperor dishonoured
      if he consented to the abandonment of the smallest village which had been
      united to the Empire by a 'Senatus-consulte'. This opinion was adopted,
      and the war continued.
    
But despite all of Napoleon's efforts, the disasters of the Russian campaign were being felt more and more every day. The King of Prussia had shown his weakness by siding with France instead of openly supporting the Russian cause, which was also his. Then General York, who led the Prussian contingent in Napoleon's army, defected. The King of Prussia, although likely secretly pleased with General York's actions, had him tried and condemned; shortly after, he personally commanded the troops that had turned against Napoleon's forces. The defection of the Prussians had a very negative impact, and it was clear that more defections would follow. Anticipating the disastrous consequences this event could bring, Napoleon called a private council made up of his Ministers and some high-ranking officials. MM. de Talleyrand and Cambacérès, along with the President of the Senate, were present. Napoleon asked whether, given the complicated challenges they faced, it would be better to negotiate for peace or prepare for a new war. Cambacérès and Talleyrand favored peace, which Napoleon refused to consider after a defeat; however, the Duc de Feltre—[Clarke]—knowing how to appeal to Bonaparte's sensitivities, stated that the Emperor would be dishonored if he agreed to abandon even the smallest village that had been added to the Empire by a 'Senatus-consulte'. This perspective was accepted, and the war continued.







      On Napoleon's return to Paris the Pope, who was still at Fontainebleau,
      determined to accede to an arrangement, and to sign an act which the
      Emperor conceived would terminate the differences between them. But being
      influenced by some of the cardinals who had previously incurred the
      Emperor's displeasure Pius VII. disavowed the new Concordat which he had
      been weak enough to grant, and the Emperor, who then had more important
      affairs on his hands, dismissed the Holy Father, and published the act to
      which he had assented. Bonaparte had no leisure to pay attention to the
      new difficulties started by Pius VII.; his thoughts were wholly directed
      to the other side of the Rhine. He was unfortunate, and the powers with
      whom he was most intimately allied separated from him, as he might have
      expected, and Austria was not the last to imitate the example set by
      Prussia. In these difficult circumstances the Emperor, who for some time
      past had observed the talent and address of the Comte Louis de Narbonne,
      sent him to Vienna, to supersede M. Otto; but the pacific propositions of
      M. de Narbonne were not listened to. Austria would not let slip the fair
      opportunity of taking revenge without endangering herself.
    
On Napoleon's return to Paris, the Pope, who was still at Fontainebleau, decided to agree to a deal and sign a document that the Emperor believed would resolve their differences. However, influenced by some cardinals who had previously angered the Emperor, Pius VII. rejected the new Concordat he had foolishly granted. The Emperor, who had more pressing matters to attend to, dismissed the Pope and published the act he had agreed to. Bonaparte didn't have time to deal with the new issues raised by Pius VII.; his focus was entirely on the situation across the Rhine. He faced misfortune, and the allies he had relied on began to distance themselves from him, as he had anticipated. Austria was quick to follow Prussia's lead. In these challenging circumstances, the Emperor, who had noticed the skill and diplomacy of Comte Louis de Narbonne, sent him to Vienna to replace M. Otto; however, M. de Narbonne's peaceful proposals were ignored. Austria wasn’t willing to miss the chance to take revenge without risking its own safety.







      Napoleon now saw clearly that since Austria had abandoned him and refused
      her contingent he should soon have all Europe arrayed against him. But
      this did not intimidate him.
    
Napoleon now realized that since Austria had turned its back on him and refused to provide support, he would soon have all of Europe lined up against him. But this didn’t scare him.







      Some of the Princes of the Confederation of the Rhine still remained
      faithful to him; and his preparations being completed, he proposed to
      resume in person the command of the army which had been so miraculously
      reproduced. But before his departure Napoleon, alarmed at the recollection
      of Mallet's attempt, and anxious to guard against any similar occurrence
      during his absence, did not, as on former occasions, consign the reins of
      the National Government to a Council of Ministers, presided over by the
      Arch-Chancellor. Napoleon placed my successor with him, M. Meneval, near
      the Empress Regent as Secretaire des Commandemens (Principal Secretary),
      and certainly he could not have made a better choice. He made the Empress
      Maria Louisa Regent, and appointed a Council of Regency to assist her.
    
Some of the Princes of the Confederation of the Rhine still stayed loyal to him; and with his preparations completed, he intended to take command of the army that had been so astonishingly reassembled. However, before he left, Napoleon, worried about Mallet's attempt and eager to prevent any similar incidents during his absence, did not, as he had before, hand over the control of the National Government to a Council of Ministers led by the Arch-Chancellor. Instead, Napoleon placed my successor, M. Meneval, next to the Empress Regent as Principal Secretary, and he certainly could not have made a better choice. He made Empress Maria Louisa the Regent and set up a Council of Regency to support her.






 —[Meneval, who had held the post of Secretary to Napoleon from the
   time of Bourrienne's disgrace in 1802, had been nearly killed by the
   hardships of the Russian campaign, and now received an honourable
   and responsible but less onerous post. He remained with the Empress
   till 7th May 1815, when, finding that she would not return to her
   husband, he left her to rejoin his master.]— 
 —[Meneval, who had been Napoleon's Secretary since Bourrienne's downfall in 1802, had nearly died from the hardships of the Russian campaign. He was now given an honorable and responsible position that was less demanding. He stayed with the Empress until May 7, 1815, when he realized she wouldn't go back to her husband, and he left to rejoin his master.]—








 


 




















      CHAPTER XXVIII.
    



      1813.
    
1813.


   Riots in Hamburg and Lübeck—Attempted suicide of M. Konning—
   Evacuation of Hamburg—Dissatisfaction at the conduct of General St.
   Cyr—The Cabinets of Vienna and the Tuileries—First appearance of
   the Cossacks—Colonel Tettenborn invited to occupy Hamburg—Cordial
   reception of the Russians—Depredations—Levies of troops—
   Testimonials of gratitude to Tettenborn—Napoleon's new army—Death
   of General Morand—Remarks of Napoleon on Vandamme—Bonaparte and
   Gustavus Adolphus—Junction of the corps of Davoust and Vandamme—
   Reoccupation of Hamburg by the French—General Hogendorff appointed
   Governor of Hamburg—Exactions and vexatious contributions levied
   upon Hamburg and Lübeck—Hostages.

   Riots in Hamburg and Lübeck—Attempted suicide of M. Konning—Evacuation of Hamburg—Dissatisfaction with General St. Cyr’s actions—The Cabinets of Vienna and the Tuileries—First appearance of the Cossacks—Colonel Tettenborn invited to take control of Hamburg—Warm welcome for the Russians—Destruction—Troop recruitment—Expressions of gratitude to Tettenborn—Napoleon's new army—Death of General Morand—Napoleon’s comments on Vandamme—Bonaparte and Gustavus Adolphus—Joining of Davoust's and Vandamme's forces—Reoccupation of Hamburg by the French—General Hogendorff appointed Governor of Hamburg—Demands and burdens forced upon Hamburg and Lübeck—Hostages.







      A considerable time before Napoleon left Paris to join the army, the bulk
      of which was in Saxony, partial insurrections occurred in many places. The
      interior of France proper was indeed still in a state of tranquillity, but
      it was not so in the provinces annexed by force to the extremities of the
      Empire, especially in the north, and in the unfortunate Hanse Towns, for
      which, since my residence at Hamburg, I have always felt the greatest
      interest. The intelligence I received was derived from such unquestionable
      sources that I can pledge myself for the truth of what I have to state
      respecting the events which occurred in those provinces at the
      commencement of 1813; and subsequently I obtained a confirmation of all
      the facts communicated by my correspondence when I was sent to Hamburg by
      Louis XVIII. in 1815.
    
A significant time before Napoleon left Paris to join the army, most of which was in Saxony, there were uprisings in many areas. The heart of France was still calm, but that wasn’t the case in the provinces that had been forcibly annexed to the edges of the Empire, especially in the north and in the unfortunate Hanse Towns, which I've always felt a strong interest in since my time in Hamburg. The information I received was from such reliable sources that I can guarantee the accuracy of what I’m about to share regarding the events that took place in those provinces at the beginning of 1813; later, when I was sent to Hamburg by Louis XVIII in 1815, I confirmed all the facts shared through my correspondence.







      M. Steuve, agent from the Court of Russia, who lived at Altona apparently
      as a private individual, profited by the irritation produced by the
      measures adopted at Hamburg. His plans were so well arranged that he was
      promptly informed of the route of the Grand Army from Moscow, and the
      approach of the Allied troops. Aided by the knowledge and activity of
      Sieur Hanft of Hamburg, M. Steuve profited by the discontent of a people
      so tyrannically governed, and seized the opportunity for producing an
      explosion. Between eight and nine o'clock on the morning of the 24th of
      February 1813 an occurrence in which the people were concerned was the
      signal for a revolt. An individual returning to Hamburg by the Altona gate
      would not submit to be searched by a fiscal agent, who in consequence
      maltreated him and wounded him severely. The populace instantly rose,
      drove away the revenue guard, and set fire to the guard-house. The people
      also, excited by secret agents, attacked other French posts, where they
      committed the same excesses. Surprised at this unexpected movement, the
      French authorities retired to the houses in which they resided. All the
      respectable inhabitants who were unconnected with the tumult likewise
      returned to their homes, and no person appeared out of doors.
    
M. Steuve, an agent from the Russian court who lived in Altona under the guise of a private citizen, took advantage of the frustration caused by the actions taken in Hamburg. His plans were so well organized that he was quickly informed about the Grand Army's route from Moscow and the approach of the Allied forces. With help from Sieur Hanft of Hamburg, M. Steuve capitalized on the discontent of the heavily oppressed populace and seized the opportunity to incite a rebellion. Between eight and nine o'clock on the morning of February 24, 1813, an event involving the people served as the trigger for the uprising. A person returning to Hamburg through the Altona gate refused to be searched by a fiscal agent, who then mistreated and seriously injured him. The crowd immediately reacted, driving away the revenue guards and setting fire to the guardhouse. Fueled by secret agents, the people also attacked other French outposts, committing similar acts of violence. Caught off guard by this sudden uprising, the French authorities retreated to their homes. All the respectable residents who were not part of the chaos also returned indoors, and no one was seen outside.







      General Carry St. Cyr had the command of Hamburg after the Prince of
      Eckmuhl's departure for the Russian campaign.
    
General Carry St. Cyr was in charge of Hamburg after the Prince of Eckmuhl left for the Russian campaign.






 —[General Carry St. Cyr is not to be conFused with the Marshal
   Gonvion de St. Cyr; he fell into disgrace for his conduct at
   Hamburg at this time, and was not again employed by Napoleon. Under
   the Restoration he became Governor of French Guiana.]— 
—[General Carry St. Cyr should not be confused with Marshal Gonvion de St. Cyr; he fell from grace due to his actions in Hamburg during this period and was not employed by Napoleon again. After the Restoration, he became the Governor of French Guiana.]—







      At the first news of the revolt he set about packing up his papers, and
      Comte de Chaban, M. Konning, the Prefect of Hamburg, and M. Daubignosc,
      the Director of Police, followed his example. It was not till about four
      o'clock in the afternoon that a detachment of Danish hussars arrived at
      Hamburg, and the populace: was then speedily dispersed. All the
      respectable citizens and men of property assembled the next morning and
      adopted means for securing internal tranquillity, so that the Danish
      troops were enabled to return to Altona. Search was then made for the
      ringleaders of the disturbance. Many persons were arrested, and a military
      commission, ad hoc; was appointed to try them. The commission, however,
      condemned only one individual, who, being convicted of being one of the
      most active voters, was sentenced to be shot, and the sentence was carried
      into execution.
    
At the first news of the revolt, he started gathering his papers, and Comte de Chaban, M. Konning, the Prefect of Hamburg, and M. Daubignosc, the Director of Police, followed suit. It wasn't until around four o'clock in the afternoon that a group of Danish hussars arrived in Hamburg, and the crowd was quickly dispersed. The next morning, all the respectable citizens and property owners came together to find ways to ensure peace, allowing the Danish troops to return to Altona. A search was then conducted for the leaders of the unrest. Many people were arrested, and a military commission was set up to try them. However, the commission only sentenced one person, who was found guilty of being one of the most active instigators, to be shot, and the sentence was carried out.







      On the 26th February a similar commotion took place at Lübeck. Attempts
      were made to attack the French Authorities. The respectable citizens
      instantly assembled, protected them against outrage, and escorted them in
      safety to Hamburg, where they arrived on the 27th. The precipitate flight
      of these persons from Lübeck spread some alarm in Hamburg. The danger was
      supposed to be greater than it was because the fugitives were accompanied
      by a formidable body of troops.
    
On February 26th, a similar uproar happened in Lübeck. There were attempts to attack the French authorities. The upstanding citizens quickly came together to protect them from harm and safely escorted them to Hamburg, where they arrived on the 27th. The hasty departure of these individuals from Lübeck caused some panic in Hamburg. The perceived danger was thought to be greater than it actually was since the refugees were accompanied by a large contingent of troops.







      But these were not the only attempts to throw off the yoke of French
      domination, which had become insupportable. All the left bank of the Elbe
      was immediately in a state of insurrection, and all the official persons
      took refuge in Hamburg. During these partial insurrections everything was
      neglected. Indecision, weakness, and cupidity were manifested everywhere.
      Instead of endeavours to soothe the minds of the people, which had been,
      long exasperated by intolerable tyranny, recourse was had to rigorous
      measures. The prisons were crowded with a host of persons declared to be
      suspected upon the mere representations of the agents of the police. On
      the 3d of March a special military commission condemned six householders
      of Hamburg and its neighbourhood to be shot on the glacis for no other
      offence than having been led, either by chance or curiosity, to a part of
      the town which was the scene of one of the riots. These executions excited
      equal horror and indignation, and General Carra St. Cyr was obliged to
      issue a proclamation for the dissolution of the military commission by
      whom the men had been sentenced.
    
But these weren't the only attempts to break free from French domination, which had become unbearable. The entire left bank of the Elbe was quickly in a state of rebellion, and all the officials fled to Hamburg. During these uprisings, everything was neglected. Indecision, weakness, and greed were everywhere. Instead of trying to calm the people, who had long been frustrated by oppressive rule, harsh measures were taken. Prisons were filled with many individuals labeled as suspects based only on the claims of police agents. On March 3rd, a special military commission sentenced six homeowners from Hamburg and the surrounding area to be shot on the battlements for the sole reason of having been led—either by chance or curiosity—to a part of town where one of the riots occurred. These executions caused equal horror and outrage, prompting General Carra St. Cyr to issue a proclamation disbanding the military commission that sentenced the men.







      The intelligence of the march of the Russian and Prussian troops; who were
      descending the Elbe, increased the prevailing agitation in Westphalia,
      Hanover, Mecklenburg, and Pomerania, and all the French troops cantoned
      between Berlin and Hamburg, including those who occupied the coast of the
      Baltic, fell back upon Hamburg. General Carra St. Cyr and Baron Konning,
      the Prefect of Hamburg, used to go every evening to Altona. The latter,
      worn out by anxiety and his unsettled state of life, lost his reason; and
      on his way to Hamburg, on the 5th of May, he attempted to cut his throat
      with a razor. His 'valet de chambre' saved his life by rushing upon him
      before he had time to execute his design. It was given out that he had
      broken a blood-vessel, and he was conveyed to Altona, where his wound was
      cured, and he subsequently recovered from his derangement. M. Konning, who
      was a native of Holland, was a worthy man, but possessed no decision of
      character, and but little ability.
    
The advancing Russian and Prussian troops heading down the Elbe heightened the anxiety in Westphalia, Hanover, Mecklenburg, and Pomerania. All the French troops stationed between Berlin and Hamburg, including those along the Baltic coast, retreated to Hamburg. General Carra St. Cyr and Baron Konning, the Prefect of Hamburg, would go to Altona every evening. The latter, overwhelmed by anxiety and his unstable lifestyle, lost his sanity; on his way to Hamburg on May 5th, he tried to cut his throat with a razor. His servant saved him just in time before he could complete the act. It was reported that he had ruptured a blood vessel, and he was taken to Altona, where his injury was treated and he later recovered from his mental state. M. Konning, a native of Holland, was a decent man but lacked decisiveness and had little ability.







      At this juncture exaggerated reports were circulated respecting the
      approach of a Russian corps. A retreat was immediately ordered, and it was
      executed on the 12th of March. General Carra St. Cyr having no money for
      the troops, helped himself to 100,000 francs out of the municipal
      treasury. He left Hamburg at the head of the troops and the enrolled men
      of the custom-house service. He was escorted by the Burgher Guard, which
      protected him from the insults of the populace; and the good people of
      Hamburg never had any visitors of whom they were more happy to be rid.
    
At this point, there were exaggerated reports about a Russian force approaching. A retreat was quickly ordered, and it took place on March 12th. General Carra St. Cyr, lacking funds for the troops, helped himself to 100,000 francs from the municipal treasury. He left Hamburg at the head of the soldiers and the enlisted men from the customs service. He was accompanied by the Burgher Guard, which shielded him from the insults of the crowd; and the people of Hamburg had never been more pleased to see visitors leave.







      This sudden retreat excited Napoleon's indignation. He accused General St.
      Cyr of pusillanimity, in an article inserted in the 'Moniteur', and
      afterwards copied by his order into all the journals. In fact, had General
      St. Cyr been better informed, or less easily alarmed, he might have kept
      Hamburg, and prevented its temporary occupation by the enemy, to dislodge
      whom it was necessary to besiege the city two months afterwards. St. Cyr
      had 3000 regular troops, and a considerable body of men in the
      custom-house service. General Morand could have furnished him with 5000
      men from Mecklenburg. He might, therefore, not only have kept possession
      of Hamburg two months longer, but even to the end of the war, as General
      Lexnarrois retained possession of Magdeburg. Had not General St. Cyr so
      hastily evacuated the Elbe he would have been promptly aided by the corps
      which General Vandamme soon brought from the Wesel, and afterwards by the
      very, corps with which Marshal Davoust recaptured Hamburg.
    
This sudden retreat angered Napoleon. He accused General St. Cyr of cowardice in an article published in the 'Moniteur', which he later ordered to be reprinted in all the newspapers. In reality, if General St. Cyr had been better informed or less easily frightened, he could have held on to Hamburg and prevented it from being temporarily occupied by the enemy, which would later require a two-month siege to retake. St. Cyr had 3,000 regular troops and a significant number of men in the customs service. General Morand could have provided him with 5,000 men from Mecklenburg. Therefore, he could not only have kept control of Hamburg for two more months, but possibly for the duration of the war, just as General Lexnarrois maintained control of Magdeburg. If General St. Cyr hadn't so quickly abandoned the Elbe, he would have received immediate support from the corps that General Vandamme soon brought from Wesel, and later from the same corps with which Marshal Davoust retook Hamburg.







      The events just described occurred before Napoleon quitted Paris. In the
      month of August all negotiation was broken off with Austria, though that
      power, still adhering to her time-serving policy, continued to protest
      fidelity to the cause of the Emperor Napoleon until the moment when her
      preparations were completed and her resolution formed. But if there was
      duplicity at Vienna was there not folly, nay, blindness, in the Cabinet of
      the Tuileries? Could we reasonably rely upon Austria? She had seen the
      Russian army pass the Vistula and advance as far as the Saale without
      offering any remonstrance. At that moment a single movement of her troops,
      a word of declaration, would have prevented everything. As, therefore, she
      would not avert the evil when she might have done so with certainty and
      safety, there must have been singular folly and blindness in the Cabinet
      who saw this conduct and did not understand it.
    
The events just described happened before Napoleon left Paris. In August, all negotiations with Austria were cut off, although that country, still playing both sides, kept claiming loyalty to Emperor Napoleon until her preparations were complete and her decision was made. But if there was trickery in Vienna, wasn't there foolishness, even blindness, in the Cabinet of the Tuileries? Could we really trust Austria? She had watched the Russian army cross the Vistula and move all the way to the Saale without raising a protest. At that moment, a simple movement of her troops or a declaration could have stopped everything. So, since she didn’t prevent the disaster when she could have done so easily and safely, there must have been some serious foolishness and blindness in the Cabinet that witnessed this behavior and failed to grasp its significance.







      I now proceed to mention the further misfortunes which occurred in the
      north of Germany, and particularly at Hamburg. At fifteen leagues east of
      Hamburg, but within its territory, is a village named Bergdorf. It was in
      that village that the Cossacks were first seen. Twelve or fifteen hundred
      of them arrived there under the command of Colonel Tettenborn. But for the
      retreat of the French troops, amounting to 3000, exclusive of men in the
      customhouse service, no attempt would have been made upon Hamburg; but the
      very name of the Cossacks inspired a degree of terror which must be fresh
      in the recollection of every one. Alarm spread in Hamburg, which, being
      destitute of troops and artillery, and surrounded with dilapidated
      fortifications, could offer no defence. The Senator Bartch and Doctor Know
      took upon themselves to proceed to Bergdorf to solicit Colonel Tettenborn
      to take possession of Hamburg, observing that they felt sure of his
      sentiments of moderation, and that they trusted they would grant
      protection to a city which had immense commercial relations with Russia.
      Tettenborn did not place reliance on these propositions because he could
      not suppose that there had been such a precipitate evacuation; he thought
      they were merely a snare to entrap him, and refused to accede to them. But
      a Doctor Von Hess, a Swede, settled in Hamburg some years, and known to
      Tettenborn as a decided partisan of England and Russia, persuaded the
      Russian Commander to comply with the wishes of the citizens of Hamburg.
      However, Tettenborn consented only on the following conditions:—That
      the old Government should be instantly re-established; that a deputation
      of Senators in their old costume should invite him to take possession of
      Hamburg, which he would enter only as a free and Imperial Hanse Town; that
      if those conditions were not complied with he would regard Hamburg as a
      French town, and consequently hostile. Notwithstanding the real
      satisfaction with which the Senators of Hamburg received those
      propositions they were restrained by the fear of a reverse of fortune.
      They, however, determined to accept them, thinking that whatever might
      happen they could screen themselves by alleging that necessity had driven
      them to the step they took. They therefore declared their compliance with
      the conditions, and that night and the following day were occupied in
      assembling the Senate, which had been so long dissolved, and in making the
      preparations which Tettenborn required.
    
I now want to discuss the additional misfortunes that happened in northern Germany, especially in Hamburg. About fifteen leagues east of Hamburg, still within its area, is a village called Bergdorf. It was in this village that the Cossacks were first sighted. Twelve to fifteen hundred of them arrived under the command of Colonel Tettenborn. If it hadn't been for the retreat of the French troops, totaling 3,000, not including those in customs, there would have been no attempt to take Hamburg; however, the mere name of the Cossacks instilled a level of fear that everyone remembers well. Panic spread through Hamburg, which lacked troops and heavy artillery, and was surrounded by crumbling fortifications, making it unable to defend itself. Senator Bartch and Doctor Know decided to go to Bergdorf to ask Colonel Tettenborn to take control of Hamburg, believing in his moderate stance and trusting he would protect a city with extensive trade ties to Russia. Tettenborn was skeptical about these propositions, thinking there couldn't have been such a hasty evacuation; he suspected it was a trap to ensnare him and refused to agree. However, a Doctor Von Hess, a Swede who had lived in Hamburg for several years and was known to Tettenborn as a strong supporter of England and Russia, convinced the Russian Commander to listen to the demands of the Hamburg citizens. Still, Tettenborn agreed only under specific conditions: the old Government must be reinstated immediately; a delegation of Senators in their traditional attire must invite him to take charge of Hamburg, and he would only enter as a free and Imperial Hanse Town. If these conditions weren't met, he would consider Hamburg a French town and therefore an enemy. Despite the genuine relief with which the Senators of Hamburg received these proposals, they were held back by the fear of bad luck. They ultimately decided to accept the terms, believing that regardless of the outcome, they could justify their actions by claiming necessity forced them to act. They declared their agreement with the conditions, and that night and the next day were spent gathering the Senate, which had been disbanded for so long, and making the necessary preparations requested by Tettenborn.







      At four o'clock in the afternoon of the 17th of March a picket of
      Cossacks, consisting of only forty men, took possession of a town recently
      flourishing, and containing a population of 124,000, but ruined and
      reduced to 80,000 inhabitants by the blessing of being united to the
      French Empire. On the following day, the 18th, Colonel Tettenborn entered
      Hamburg at the head of 1000 regular and 200 irregular Cossacks. I have
      described the military situation of Hamburg when it was evacuated on the
      12th of March, and Napoleon's displeasure may be easily conceived.
      Tettenborn was received with all the honours usually bestowed upon a
      conqueror. Enthusiasm was almost universal. For several nights the people
      devoted themselves to rejoicing. The Cossacks were gorged with provisions
      and drink, and were not a little astonished at the handsome reception they
      experienced.
    
At four o'clock in the afternoon on March 17th, a group of Cossacks, made up of just forty men, took control of a once-thriving town with a population of 124,000, which had been reduced to 80,000 due to being part of the French Empire. The next day, March 18th, Colonel Tettenborn arrived in Hamburg leading 1,000 regular and 200 irregular Cossacks. I've already explained the military situation in Hamburg when it was evacuated on March 12th, so it's easy to imagine Napoleon's anger. Tettenborn was welcomed with all the honors usually given to a conqueror. The excitement was nearly universal. For several nights, the people celebrated. The Cossacks were plentifully supplied with food and drink and were quite surprised by the warm welcome they received.







      It was not until the expiration of three or four days that the people
      began to perceive the small number of the allied troops. Their amount
      gradually diminished. On the day after the arrival of the Cossacks a
      detachment was sent to Lübeck, where they were received with the same
      honours as at Hamburg. Other detachments were sent upon different places,
      and after four days' occupation there remained in Hamburg only 70 out of
      the 1200 Cossacks who had entered on the 18th March.
    
It wasn't until three or four days had passed that the people started to notice the small size of the allied troops. Their numbers gradually decreased. The day after the Cossacks arrived, a group was sent to Lübeck, where they were welcomed with the same honors as in Hamburg. Other groups were dispatched to various locations, and after four days of occupation, only 70 out of the 1200 Cossacks who had arrived on March 18th remained in Hamburg.







      The first thing their commander did was to take possession of the
      post-office and the treasuries of the different public offices. All the
      movable effects of the French Government and its agents were seized and
      sold. The officers evinced a true Cossack disregard of the rights of
      private property. Counts Huhn, Buasenitz, and Venechtern, who had joined
      Tettenborn's staff, rendered themselves conspicuous by plundering the
      property of M. Pyonnier, the Director of the Customs, and M. Gonae, the
      Postmaster, and not a bottle of wine was left in their cellars. Tettenborn
      laid hands upon a sum of money, consisting of upwards of 4000 Louis in
      gold, belonging to M. Gonse, which had been lodged with M. Schwartz, a
      respectable banker in Hamburg, who filled the office of Prussian Consul.
      M. Schwartz, with whom this money had been deposited for the sake of
      security, had also the care of some valuable jewels belonging to Mesdames
      Carry St. Cyr and Daubignoac; Tettenborn carried off these as well as the
      money. M. Schwartz remonstrated in his character of Prussian Consul,
      Prussia being the ally of Russia, but he was considered merely as a
      banker, and could obtain no redress. Tettenborn, like most of the Cossack
      chiefs, was nothing but a man for blows and pillage, but the agent of
      Russia was M. Steuve, whose name I have already mentioned.
    
The first thing their commander did was seize the post office and the treasuries from various public offices. All the movable assets of the French government and its agents were taken and sold. The officers showed a blatant Cossack disregard for private property rights. Counts Huhn, Buasenitz, and Venechtern, who had joined Tettenborn's staff, stood out by looting the property of M. Pyonnier, the Director of Customs, and M. Gonae, the Postmaster, and not a single bottle of wine was left in their cellars. Tettenborn took a sum of over 4000 Louis in gold that belonged to M. Gonse, which had been entrusted to M. Schwartz, a well-respected banker in Hamburg who was also the Prussian Consul. M. Schwartz, who was holding this money for safekeeping, also took care of some valuable jewels that belonged to Mesdames Carry St. Cyr and Daubignoac; Tettenborn seized both the cash and the jewels. M. Schwartz protested in his role as Prussian Consul, since Prussia was an ally of Russia, but he was treated simply as a banker and got no compensation. Tettenborn, like most Cossack leaders, was just a man for violence and plunder, while M. Steuve, whose name I've already mentioned, was the representative of Russia.







      Orders were speedily given for a levy of troops, both in infantry and
      cavalry, to be called Hanseatic volunteers. A man named Hanft, who had
      formerly been a butcher, raised at his own expense a company of foot and
      one of lancers, of which he took the command. This undertaking, which cost
      him 130,000 francs, may afford some idea of the attachment of the people
      of Hamburg to the French Government! But money, as well as men, was
      wanting, and a heavy contribution was imposed to defray the expense of
      enrolling a number of workmen out of employment and idlers, of various
      kinds. Voluntary donations were solicited, and enthusiasm was so general
      that even servant-maids gave their rings. The sums thus collected were
      paid into the chest of Tettenborn's staff, and became a prey to dishonest
      appropriation. With respect to this money a Sieur Oswald was accused of
      not having acted with the scrupulous delicacy which Madame de Stael
      attributes to his namesake in her romance of Corinne.
    
Orders were quickly given to recruit troops, both infantry and cavalry, referred to as Hanseatic volunteers. A man named Hanft, who used to be a butcher, raised a company of foot soldiers and one of lancers at his own expense, taking command of them. This effort, which cost him 130,000 francs, shows the strong loyalty of the people of Hamburg to the French Government! However, both money and men were in short supply, and a hefty contribution was imposed to cover the cost of enrolling unemployed workers and various idlers. Voluntary donations were requested, and the enthusiasm was so widespread that even maids contributed their rings. The amounts collected were handed over to Tettenborn's staff, but they were misappropriated. Regarding this money, a man named Sieur Oswald was accused of not being as scrupulously careful as Madame de Stael claims his namesake was in her novel Corinne.







      Between 8000 and 10,000 men were levied in the Hanse Towns and their
      environs, the population of which had been so greatly reduced within two
      years. These undisciplined troops, who had been for the most part levied
      from the lowest classes of society, committed so many outrages that they
      soon obtained the surname of the Cossacks of the Elbe; and certainly they
      well deserved it.
    
Between 8,000 and 10,000 men were recruited from the Hanse Towns and the surrounding areas, which had seen its population greatly decrease over the past two years. These undisciplined troops, mostly made up of people from the lower classes, committed so many atrocities that they quickly earned the nickname the Cossacks of the Elbe, and they definitely deserved it.







      Such was the hatred which the French Government had inspired in Hamburg
      that the occupation of Tettenborn was looked upon as a deliverance. On the
      colonel's departure the Senate, anxious to give high a testimonial of
      gratitude, presented him with the freedom of the city, accompanied by 5000
      gold fredericks (105,000 francs), with which he was doubtless much more
      gratified than with the honour of the citizenship.
    
Such was the hatred the French Government had stirred up in Hamburg that the occupation by Tettenborn was seen as a relief. When the colonel left, the Senate, eager to show their appreciation, awarded him the freedom of the city along with 5,000 gold fredericks (105,000 francs), which he was certainly much more pleased with than the honor of citizenship.







      The restored Senate of Hamburg did not long survive. The people of the
      Hanse Towns learned, with no small alarm, that the Emperor was making
      immense preparations to fall upon Germany, where his lieutenants could not
      fail to take cruel revenge on those who had disavowed his authority.
      Before he quitted Paris on the 15th of April Napoleon had recalled under
      the banners of the army 180,000 men, exclusive of the guards of honour,
      and it was evident that with such a force he might venture on a great
      game, and probably win it. Yet the month of April passed away without the
      occurrence of any event important to the Hanse Towns, the inhabitants of
      which vacillated between hope and fear. Attacks daily took place between
      parties of Russian and French troops on the territory between Lüneburg and
      Bremen. In one of these encounters General Morand was mortally wounded,
      and was conveyed to Lüneburg. His brother having been taken prisoner in
      the same engagement, Tettenborn, into whose hands he had fallen, gave him
      leave on parole to visit the General; but he arrived in Lüneburg only in
      time to see him die.
    
The restored Senate of Hamburg didn't last long. The people of the Hanse Towns were alarmed to learn that the Emperor was making huge preparations to attack Germany, where his lieutenants would surely take harsh revenge on those who had rejected his authority. Before leaving Paris on April 15, Napoleon had called up 180,000 men to the army, not including the honor guards, and it was clear that with such a force, he could take a significant risk and likely succeed. However, the month of April went by without any significant events affecting the Hanse Towns, whose residents fluctuated between hope and fear. Daily skirmishes took place between groups of Russian and French troops in the area between Lüneburg and Bremen. In one of these clashes, General Morand was fatally wounded and taken to Lüneburg. His brother, who had been captured in the same fight, was granted permission by Tettenborn, who had him in custody, to visit the General; but he arrived in Lüneburg just in time to see him die.







      The French having advanced as far as Haarburg took up their position on
      the plateau of Schwartzenberg, which commands that little town and the
      considerable islands situated in that part of the river between Haarburg
      and Hamburg. Being masters of this elevated point they began to threaten
      Hamburg and to attack Haarburg. These attacks were directed by Vandamme,
      of all our generals the most redoubtable in conquered countries. He was a
      native of Cassel, in Flanders, and had acquired a high reputation for
      severity. At the very time when he was attacking Hamburg Napoleon said of
      him at Dresden, "If I were to lose Vandamme I know not what I would give
      to have him back again; but if I had two such generals I should be obliged
      to shoot one of them." It must be confessed that one was quite enough.
    
The French advanced as far as Haarburg and positioned themselves on the plateau of Schwartzenberg, which overlooks that small town and the significant islands in the river between Haarburg and Hamburg. As masters of this high ground, they began to threaten Hamburg and launch attacks on Haarburg. These assaults were led by Vandamme, our most formidable general in conquered territories. He was from Cassel in Flanders and had earned a strong reputation for being strict. At the same time he was attacking Hamburg, Napoleon remarked about him in Dresden, "If I were to lose Vandamme, I wouldn’t know what I would give to have him back; but if I had two such generals, I'd have to shoot one of them." It must be said that one was quite enough.







      As soon as he arrived Vandamme sent to inform Tettenborn that if he did
      not immediately liberate the brother and brother-in-law of Morand, both of
      whom were his prisoners, he would burn Hamburg. Tettenborn replied that if
      he resorted to that extremity he would hang them both on the top of St.
      Michael's Tower, where he might have a view of them. This energetic answer
      obliged Vandamme to restrain his fury, or at least to direct it to other
      objects.
    
As soon as he arrived, Vandamme sent word to Tettenborn that if he didn’t immediately release Morand’s brother and brother-in-law, both of whom were his prisoners, he would set Hamburg on fire. Tettenborn replied that if he went to that extreme, he would hang them both on top of St. Michael's Tower so he could see them. This strong response forced Vandamme to hold back his anger, or at least redirect it elsewhere.







      Meanwhile the French forces daily augmented at Haarburg. Vandamme,
      profiting by the negligence of the new Hanseatic troops, who had the
      defence of the great islands of the Elbe, attacked them one night in the
      month of May. This happened to be the very night after the battle of
      Lutzsn, where both sides claimed the victory; and Te Deum was sung in the
      two hostile camps. The advance of the French turned the balance of opinion
      in favour of Napoleon, who was in fact really the conqueror on a field of
      battle celebrated nearly two centuries before by the victory and death of
      Gustavus Adolphus. The Cossacks of the Elbe could not sustain the shock of
      the French; Vandamme repulsed the troops who defended Wilhelmsburg, the
      largest of the two islands, and easily took possession of the smaller one,
      Fidden, of which the point nearest the right bank of the Elbe is not half
      a gunshot distant from Hamburg. The 9th of May was a fatal day to the
      people of Hamburg; for it was then that Davoust, having formed his
      junction with Vandamme, appeared at the head of a corps of 40,000 men
      destined to reinforce Napoleon's Grand Army. Hamburg could not hold out
      against the considerable French force now assembled in its neighbourhood.
      Tettenborn had, it is true, received a reinforcement of 800 Prussians and
      2000, Swedes, but still what resistance could he offer to Davoust's 40,000
      men? Tettenborn did not deceive himself as to the weakness of the allies
      on this point, or the inutility of attempting to defend the city. He
      yielded to the entreaties of the inhabitants, who represented to him that
      further resistance must be attended by certain ruin. He accordingly
      evacuated Hamburg on the 29th of May, taking with him his Hanseatic
      legions, which had not held out an hour in the islands of the Elbe, and
      accompanied by the Swedish Doctor Von Hess, whose imprudent advice was the
      chief cause of all the disasters to which the unfortunate city lied been
      exposed.
    
Meanwhile, the French forces were increasing daily at Haarburg. Vandamme, taking advantage of the negligence of the new Hanseatic troops who were defending the large islands of the Elbe, launched an attack one night in May. This occurred the very night after the battle of Lutzsn, where both sides claimed victory, and a Te Deum was sung in the two enemy camps. The French advance shifted the balance of public opinion in favor of Napoleon, who was actually the conqueror on a battlefield famed nearly two centuries earlier for the victory and death of Gustavus Adolphus. The Cossacks of the Elbe couldn't withstand the impact of the French; Vandamme drove back the troops defending Wilhelmsburg, the larger of the two islands, and easily captured the smaller one, Fidden, which is less than half a gunshot away from the right bank of the Elbe near Hamburg. May 9th was a disastrous day for the people of Hamburg; on that day, Davoust, having joined forces with Vandamme, appeared at the head of a corps of 40,000 men meant to reinforce Napoleon's Grand Army. Hamburg couldn't withstand the significant French force now gathered nearby. Tettenborn had indeed received a boost of 800 Prussians and 2,000 Swedes, but what resistance could he possibly put up against Davoust's 40,000 men? Tettenborn was fully aware of the weakness of the allies in this situation, recognizing that trying to defend the city would be futile. He succumbed to the pleas of the residents, who argued that continuing resistance would inevitably lead to destruction. He therefore evacuated Hamburg on May 29th, taking with him his Hanseatic legions, which had barely lasted an hour in the islands of the Elbe, along with the Swedish doctor Von Hess, whose reckless advice was largely responsible for all the misfortunes that had befallen the unfortunate city.







      Davoust was at Haarburg, where he received the deputies from Hamburg with
      an appearance of moderation; and by the conditions stipulated at this
      conference on the 30th of May a strong detachment of Danish troops
      occupied Hamburg in the name of the Emperor. The French made their
      entrance the same evening, and occupied the posts as quietly as if they
      had been merely changing guard. The inhabitants made not a shadow of
      resistance. Not a drop of blood was issued; not a threat nor an insult was
      interchanged. This is the truth; but the truth did not suit Napoleon. It
      was necessary to getup a pretext for revenge, and accordingly recourse was
      had to a bulletin, which proclaimed to France and Europe that Hamburg had
      been taken by main force, with a loss of some hundred men. But for this
      imaginary resistance, officially announced, how would it have been
      possible to justify the spoliations and exactions which ensued?
    
Davoust was in Haarburg, where he met with representatives from Hamburg with a calm demeanor. During this meeting on May 30th, it was agreed that a strong group of Danish troops would take over Hamburg in the name of the Emperor. The French entered that evening and took their positions as quietly as if they were just changing shifts. The locals didn’t put up any resistance. Not a single drop of blood was shed, and there were no threats or insults exchanged. This is the reality, but it didn’t fit Napoleon’s narrative. He needed a reason for retaliation, so they created a report claiming that Hamburg had been taken by force, resulting in the loss of several hundred men. Without this fictitious resistance, how could they possibly justify the plunder and demands that followed?







      The Dutch General, Hogendorff, became Governor of Hamburg in lieu of Carra
      St. Cyr, who had been confined at Osnabruck since his precipitate retreat.
      General Hogendorff had been created one of the Emperor's aides de camp,
      but he was neither a Rapp, a Lauriston, nor a Duroc. The inhabitants were
      required to pay all the arrears of taxes due to the different public
      offices during the seventy days that the French had been absent; and
      likewise all the allowances that would have been paid to the troops of the
      garrison had they remained in Hamburg. Payment was also demanded of the
      arrears for the quartering of troops who were fifty leagues off. However,
      some of the heads of the government departments, who saw and understood
      the new situation of the French at Hamburg, did not enforce these unjust
      and vexatious measures. The duties on registrations were reduced. M.
      Pyonnier, Director of the Customs, aware of the peculiar difficulty of his
      situation in a country where the customs were held in abhorrence, observed
      great caution and moderation in collecting the duties: Personal
      examination, which is so revolting and indecorous, especially with respect
      to females, was suppressed. But these modifications did not proceed from
      the highest quarter; they were due to the good sense of the subordinate
      agents, who plainly saw that if the Empire was to fall it would not be
      owing to little infractions in the laws of proscription against coffee and
      rhubarb.
    
The Dutch General, Hogendorff, became the Governor of Hamburg instead of Carra St. Cyr, who had been stuck in Osnabruck since his hasty retreat. General Hogendorff had been appointed one of the Emperor's aides-de-camp, but he wasn't a Rapp, a Lauriston, or a Duroc. The residents were required to pay all back taxes owed to various public offices from the seventy days that the French had been gone; they were also expected to cover all the allowances that would have been given to the troops of the garrison if they had stayed in Hamburg. Additionally, payment was demanded for the unpaid costs of billeting troops who were fifty leagues away. However, some heads of government departments, who recognized and understood the new situation of the French in Hamburg, did not enforce these unfair and annoying measures. The registration fees were lowered. M. Pyonnier, the Director of Customs, mindful of the unique challenges of his position in a country where customs were deeply disliked, acted with caution and moderation in collecting duties: personal inspections, which are so offensive and inappropriate, especially toward women, were abolished. Yet, these changes didn't come from the top; they were the result of the common sense of lower-level officials, who clearly saw that if the Empire was to collapse, it wouldn't be because of minor violations of the prohibitions against coffee and rhubarb.







      If the custom-house regulations became less vexatious to the inhabitants
      of Hamburg it was not the same with the business of the post-office. The
      old manoeuvres of that department were resumed more actively than ever.
      Letters were opened without the least reserve, and all the old post-office
      clerks who were initiated in these scandalous proceedings were recalled.
      With the exception of the registrations and the customs the inquisitorial
      system, which had so long oppressed the Hanse Towns, was renewed; and yet
      the delegates of the French Government were the first to cry out, "The
      people of Hamburg are traitors to Napoleon: for, in spite of all the
      blessings he has conferred upon them they do not say with the Latin poet,
      'Deus nobis haec otia fecit."
    
If the customs regulations became less troublesome for the people of Hamburg, it was a different story for the post office. The old tactics of that department returned with more intensity than ever. Letters were opened without any hesitation, and all the former post office clerks involved in these disgraceful practices were brought back. Aside from the registrations and customs, the invasive system that had long burdened the Hanse Towns was reinstated; yet, the representatives of the French Government were the first to shout, "The people of Hamburg are traitors to Napoleon: for, despite all the benefits he has given them, they do not say with the Latin poet, 'Deus nobis haec otia fecit."







      But all that passed was trifling in comparison with what was to come. On
      the 18th of June was published an Imperial decree, dated the 8th of the
      same month, by virtue of which were to be reaped the fruits of the
      official falsehood contained in the bulletin above mentioned. To expiate
      the crime of rebellion Hamburg was required to pay an extraordinary
      contribution of 48,000,000 francs, and Lübeck a contribution of 6,000,000.
      The enormous sum levied on Hamburg was to be paid in the short space of a
      month, by six equal instalments, either in money, or bills on respectable
      houses in Paris. In addition to this the new Prefect of Hamburg made a
      requisition of grain and provisions of every kind, wines, sailcloth,
      masts, pitch, hemp, iron, copper, steel, in short, everything that could
      be useful for the supply of the army and navy.
    
But all that happened was minor compared to what was coming. On June 18th, an Imperial decree was published, dated the 8th of the same month, which would bring about the consequences of the official lies in the mentioned bulletin. To atone for the crime of rebellion, Hamburg was required to pay a special tax of 48,000,000 francs, and Lübeck a tax of 6,000,000. The huge amount charged to Hamburg had to be paid within a month, in six equal installments, either in cash or in bills from reputable businesses in Paris. Additionally, the new Prefect of Hamburg requested grain and all kinds of supplies, including wines, sailcloth, masts, pitch, hemp, iron, copper, and steel—everything that could be useful for supplying the army and navy.







      But while these exactions were made on property in Hamburg, at Dresden the
      liberties of individuals and even lives were attacked. On the 15th of June
      Napoleon, doubtless blinded by the false reports that were laid before
      him, gave orders for making out a list of the inhabitants of Hamburg who
      were absent from the city. He allowed them only a fortnight to return
      home, an interval too short to enable some of them to come from the places
      where they had taken refuge. They consequently remained absent beyond the
      given time. Victims were indispensable but assuredly it was not Bonaparte
      who conceived the idea of hostages to answer for the men whom prudence
      kept absent. Of this charge I can clear his memory. The hostages, were,
      however, taken, and were declared to be also responsible for the payment
      of the contribution of 48,000,000. In Hamburg they were selected from
      among the most respectable and wealthy men in the city, some of them far
      advanced in age. They were conveyed to the old castle of Haarburg on the
      left bank of the Elbe, and these men, who had been accustomed to all the
      comforts of life, were deprived even of necessaries, and had only straw to
      lie on. The hostages from Lübeck were taken to, Hamburg: they were placed
      between decks on board an old ship in the port: this was a worthy
      imitation of the prison hulks of England. On the 24th of July there was
      issued a decree which was published in the Hamburg Correspondent of the
      27th. This decree consisted merely of a proscription list, on which were
      inscribed the names of some of the wealthiest men in the Hanse Towns,
      Hanover, and Westphalia.
    
But while these demands were being imposed on property in Hamburg, the rights and even lives of individuals in Dresden were under attack. On June 15th, Napoleon, likely misled by the inaccurate reports presented to him, ordered the creation of a list of Hamburg residents who were away from the city. He gave them only two weeks to return home, which was too short for some to come back from the places where they had sought refuge. As a result, they ended up staying away longer than the allotted time. Victims were necessary, but it wasn’t Bonaparte who came up with the idea of taking hostages to ensure accountability for those who were absent. I can clear his name of this accusation. However, hostages were taken and they were made responsible for the payment of a contribution of 48 million. In Hamburg, the hostages were chosen from the most respected and wealthy men in the city, some of whom were quite elderly. They were taken to the old castle of Haarburg on the left bank of the Elbe, and these men, who were used to a comfortable life, were denied even basic necessities and had only straw to lie on. The hostages from Lübeck were also taken to Hamburg; they were held below deck on an old ship in the port, reminiscent of the prison hulks in England. On July 24th, a decree was issued and published in the Hamburg Correspondent on the 27th. This decree was simply a list of proscribed individuals, featuring the names of some of the wealthiest people in the Hanse Towns, Hanover, and Westphalia.








 


 




















      CHAPTER XXIX.
    



      1813.
    
1813.


   Napoleon's second visit to Dresden—Battle of Bantzen—The Congress
   at Prague—Napoleon ill advised—Battle of Vittoria—General Moreau
   Rupture of the conferences at Prague—Defection of Jomini—Battles
   of Dresden and Leipsic—Account of the death of Duroc—An
   interrupted conversation resumed a year after—Particulars
   respecting Poniatowski—His extraordinary courage and death—
   His monument at Leipsic and tomb in the cathedral of Warsaw.

   Napoleon's second visit to Dresden—Battle of Bautzen—The Congress at Prague—Napoleon poorly advised—Battle of Vittoria—General Moreau—Breakdown of the talks in Prague—Jomini's defection—Battles of Dresden and Leipzig—Details about Duroc's death—An interrupted conversation picked up a year later—Information about Poniatowski—His remarkable bravery and death—His monument in Leipzig and tomb in the Warsaw cathedral.







      On the 2d of May Napoleon won the battle of Lützen. A week after he was at
      Dresden, not as on his departure for the Russian campaign, like the
      Sovereign of the West surrounded by his mighty vassals: he was now in the
      capital of the only one of the monarchs of his creation who remained
      faithful to the French cause, and whose good faith eventually cost him
      half his dominions. The Emperor stayed only ten days in Dresden, and then
      went in pursuit of the Russian army, which he came up with on the 19th, at
      Bautzen. This battle, which was followed on the two succeeding days by the
      battles of Wurtchen and Oclikirchen, may be said to have lasted three days—a
      sufficient proof that it was obstinately disputed. It ended in favour of
      Napoleon, but he and France paid dearly for it: while General Kirschner
      and Duroc were talking together the former was killed by a cannon-ball,
      which mortally wounded the latter in the abdomen.
    
On May 2nd, Napoleon won the Battle of Lützen. A week later, he was in Dresden, but this time he wasn’t leaving for the Russian campaign as the Sovereign of the West surrounded by his powerful vassals. He was now in the capital of the only monarch of his making who remained loyal to the French cause, and whose loyalty eventually cost him half his territory. The Emperor stayed in Dresden for only ten days before going after the Russian army, which he caught up with on the 19th at Bautzen. This battle, followed by the battles of Wurtchen and Oclikirchen over the next two days, could be said to have lasted three days—a clear indication that it was fiercely contested. It ended in Napoleon's favor, but it came at a high cost for him and France: while General Kirschner and Duroc were talking, Kirschner was killed by a cannonball, which also fatally injured Duroc in the abdomen.







      The moment had now arrived for Austria to prove whether or not she.
      intended entirely to desert the cause of Napoleon.
    
The moment had now arrived for Austria to prove whether or not she intended to completely abandon Napoleon's cause.






 —[There is a running attack in Erreurs (tome, ii. pp, 289-325) on
   all this part of the Memoirs, but the best account of the
   negotiations between France, Austria, and the Allies will be found
   in Metternich, Vol. i. pp. 171-215. Metternich, with good
   reason, prides himself on the skill with which he gained from
   Napoleon the exact time, twenty days, necessary for the
   concentration of the Austrian armies. Whether the negotiations were
   consistent with good faith on the part of Austria is another matter;
   but, one thing seems clear—the Austrian marriage ruined Napoleon.
   He found it impossible to believe that the monarch who had given him
   his daughter would strike the decisive blow against him. Without
   this belief there can be no doubt that he would have attacked
   Austria before she could have collected her forces, and Metternich
   seems to have dreaded the result. "It was necessary, therefore to
   prevent Napoleon from carrying out his usual system of leaving an
   army of observation before the Allied armies, and himself turning to
   Bohemia to deal a great blow at us, the effect of which it would be
   impossible to foresee in the present depressed state of the great
   majority of our men" (Metternich, Vol. i, p. 177). With our
   knowledge of how Napoleon held his own against the three armies at
   Dresden we may safely assume that he would have crushed Austria if
   she had not joined him or disarmed. The conduct of Austria was
   natural and politic, but it was only successful because Napoleon
   believed in the good faith of the Emperor Francis, his
   father-in-law. It is to be noted that Austria only succeeded in
   getting Alexander to negotiate on the implied condition that the
   negotiations were not to end in a peace with France. See
   Metternich, Vol. i. p. 181, where, in answer to the Czar's
   question as to what would become of their cause if Napoleon accepted
   the Austrian mediation, he says that if Napoleon declines Austria
   will join the Allies. If Napoleon accepts, "the negotiations will
   most certainly show Napoleon to be neither wise nor just, and then
   the result will be the same. In any case we shall have gained the
   necessary time to bring our armies into such positions that we need
   not again fear a separate attack on any one of them, and from which
   we may ourselves take the offensive."]— 
 —[There is a running critique in Erreurs (tome, ii. pp. 289-325) about this section of the Memoirs, but the best account of the negotiations among France, Austria, and the Allies can be found in Metternich, Vol. i. pp. 171-215. Metternich rightfully takes pride in how he managed to extract from Napoleon the exact time, twenty days, needed for the concentration of the Austrian armies. Whether Austria acted in good faith during these negotiations is a different question; however, one thing is clear—the Austrian marriage ultimately led to Napoleon's downfall. He found it hard to accept that the monarch who had given him his daughter would be the one to deal the final blow against him. Without this trust, there's little doubt he would have attacked Austria before she could assemble her forces, and Metternich appeared to fear the consequences. "It was essential, therefore, to prevent Napoleon from implementing his usual strategy of leaving an observation army before the Allied forces while he himself turned to Bohemia to deliver a significant strike against us, the outcome of which would be impossible to predict given the current low morale of most of our troops" (Metternich, Vol. i, p. 177). Considering how Napoleon managed to fend off three armies at Dresden, we can confidently assume he would have defeated Austria had she not allied with him or disarmed. Austria's actions were both natural and politically astute, but they only succeeded because Napoleon believed in the good intentions of Emperor Francis, his father-in-law. It’s important to note that Austria only managed to get Alexander to negotiate on the unspoken condition that these talks wouldn’t lead to a peace agreement with France. See Metternich, Vol. i. p. 181, where, in response to the Czar's question about what would happen to their cause if Napoleon accepted the Austrian mediation, he states that if Napoleon declines, Austria will join the Allies. If Napoleon accepts, "the negotiations will almost certainly reveal him to be neither wise nor just, and the outcome will be the same. In any case, we will have gained the necessary time to position our armies such that we no longer need to fear a separate attack on any single one of them, and from which we can take the offensive ourselves."]— 







      All her amicable demonstrations were limited to an offer of her
      intervention in opening negotiations with Russia. Accordingly, on the 4th
      of June, an armistice was concluded at Pleiswitz, which was to last till
      the 8th of July, and was finally prolonged to the 10th of August.
    
All her friendly gestures were restricted to offering to help start talks with Russia. As a result, on June 4th, a ceasefire was agreed upon at Pleiswitz, which was meant to last until July 8th but was ultimately extended to August 10th.







      The first overtures after the conclusion of the armistice of Pleiswitz
      determined the assembling of a Congress at Prague. It was reported at the
      time that the Allies demanded the restoration of all they had lost since
      1805; that is to say, since the campaign of Ulm. In this demand Holland
      and the Hanse Towns, which had become French provinces, were comprehended.
      But we should still have retained the Rhine, Belgium, Piedmont, Nice, and
      Savoy. The battle of Vittoria,
    
The first steps taken after the armistice of Pleiswitz led to a Congress being held in Prague. At that time, it was reported that the Allies were asking for the return of everything they had lost since 1805, specifically since the campaign of Ulm. This request included Holland and the Hanse Towns, which had turned into French provinces. However, we would have still kept the Rhine, Belgium, Piedmont, Nice, and Savoy. The battle of Vittoria,






 —The news of this decisive battle increased the difficulty of the
   French plenipotentiaries at Prague, and raised the demands of the
   Allies. It also shook the confidence of those who remained faithful
   to us.—Bourrienne.]— 
 —The news of this crucial battle made things harder for the French representatives in Prague and boosted the demands from the Allies. It also undermined the confidence of those who stayed loyal to us.—Bourrienne.]—







      which placed the whole of Spain at the disposal of the English, the
      retreat of Suchet upon the Ebro, the fear of seeing the army of Spin
      annihilated, were enough to alter the opinions of those counsellors who
      still recommended war. Notwithstanding Napoleon's opposition and his
      innate disposition to acquire glory by his victories, probably he would
      not have been inaccessible to the reiterated representations of sensible
      men who loved their country, France, therefore, has to reproach his
      advisers. At this juncture General Moreau arrived; it has been said that
      he came at the solicitation of Bernadotte. This is neither true nor
      probable. In the first place, there never was any intimacy between
      Bernadotte and Moreau; and, in the next, how can it be imagined that
      Bernadotte wished to see Moreau Emperor! But this question is at once put
      at rest by the fact, that in the interview at Åbo the Emperor of Russia
      hinted to Bernadotte the possibility of his succeeding Napoleon. It was
      generally reported at the time, and I have since learnt that it was true,
      that the French Princes of the House of Bourbon had made overtures to
      Moreau through the medium of General Willot, who had been proscribed on
      the 18th Fructidor; and I have since learned from an authentic source that
      General Moreau, who was then at Baltimore, refused to support the Bourbon
      cause. Moreau yielded only to his desire of being revenged on Napoleon;
      and he found death where he could not find glory.
    
which put all of Spain at the disposal of the English, the retreat of Suchet to the Ebro, and the fear of seeing the army of Spain destroyed were enough to change the minds of those advisors who still recommended war. Despite Napoleon's opposition and his natural tendency to seek glory through victories, he probably would not have been closed off to the repeated appeals from sensible men who cared about their country. France, therefore, has reason to blame his advisors. At this point, General Moreau arrived; it has been said that he came at the request of Bernadotte. This is neither true nor likely. First of all, there was never any close relationship between Bernadotte and Moreau; and second, how could anyone think that Bernadotte wanted to see Moreau as Emperor? But this question is quickly resolved by the fact that during the meeting in Åbo, the Emperor of Russia hinted to Bernadotte that he could succeed Napoleon. It was widely rumored at the time, and I have since learned that it was true, that the French Princes of the House of Bourbon had reached out to Moreau through General Willot, who had been exiled on the 18th of Fructidor; and I have since learned from a reliable source that General Moreau, who was then in Baltimore, refused to support the Bourbon cause. Moreau gave in only to his desire for revenge on Napoleon; and he met his death where he could not find glory.







      At the end of July the proceedings of the Congress at Prague were no.
      further advanced than at the time of its assembling. Far from cheering the
      French with the prospect of a peace, the Emperor made a journey to
      Mayence; the Empress went there to see him, and returned to Paris
      immediately after the Emperor's departure. Napoleon went back to Dresden,
      and the armistice not being renewed, it died a natural death on the 17th
      of August, the day appointed for its expiration. A fatal event immediately
      followed the rupture of the conferences. On the 17th of August Austria,
      wishing to gain by war as she had before gained by alliances, declared
      that she would unite her forces with those of the Allies. On the very
      opening of this disastrous campaign General Jomini went over to the enemy.
      Jomini belonged to the staff of the unfortunate Marshal Ney, who was
      beginning to execute with his wonted ability, the orders he had received.
      There was much surprise at his eagerness to profit by a struggle, begun
      under such melancholy auspices, to seek a fresh fortune, which promised
      better than what he had tried under our flag. Public opinion has
      pronounced judgment on Jomini.
    
At the end of July, the Congress in Prague hadn’t made any more progress than when it first started. Instead of giving the French hope for peace, the Emperor took a trip to Mayence; the Empress visited him there and returned to Paris right after he left. Napoleon went back to Dresden, and since the armistice wasn’t renewed, it naturally ended on August 17, the day it was supposed to expire. A tragic event quickly followed the breakdown of the talks. On August 17, Austria, looking to benefit from war as it had in the past with alliances, declared that it would join forces with the Allies. Just as this disastrous campaign began, General Jomini switched sides to the enemy. Jomini had been part of the staff of the unfortunate Marshal Ney, who was just starting to carry out his orders with his usual skill. Many were surprised by his eagerness to take advantage of a conflict that began under such grim circumstances to pursue a new fortune, which seemed more promising than what he had experienced under our flag. Public opinion has judged Jomini.






 —[It was on the 11th of August, not the 17th, that Metternich
   announced to Caulaincourt, Napoleon's plenipotentiary at Prague,
   that Austria had joined the Allies and declared war with France;
   At midnight on 10th August Metternich had despatched the passports
   for the Comte Louis de Narbonne, Napoleon's Ambassador, and the war
   manifesto of the Emperor Francis; then he had the beacons lighted
   which had been prepared from Prague to the Silesian frontier, as a
   sign of the breech of the negotiations, and the right (i.e. power)
   of the Allied armies to cross the Silesian frontier (Metternich,
   vol. i, p. 199).]— 
—[It was on August 11th, not the 17th, that Metternich told Caulaincourt, Napoleon's representative in Prague, that Austria had joined the Allies and declared war on France; At midnight on August 10th, Metternich sent the passports for Comte Louis de Narbonne, Napoleon's Ambassador, along with the war manifesto from Emperor Francis; then he had the beacons lit that had been set up from Prague to the Silesian border, as a sign of the breakdown in negotiations and the authority of the Allied armies to cross the Silesian frontier (Metternich, vol. i, p. 199).]—







      The first actions were the battle of Dresden, which took place seven days
      after the rupture of the armistice, and the battle in which Vandamme was
      defeated, and which rendered the victory of Dresden unavailing. I have
      already mentioned that Moreau was killed at Dresden. Bavaria was no sooner
      rid of the French troops than she raised the mask and ranged herself among
      our enemies.
    
The first events were the battle of Dresden, which happened a week after the armistice fell apart, and the battle where Vandamme was defeated, rendering the victory at Dresden useless. I've already noted that Moreau was killed at Dresden. As soon as Bavaria was free of the French troops, she dropped the pretense and joined our opponents.







      In October the loss of the battle of Leipsic decided the fate of France.
      The Saxon army, which had long remained faithful to us, went over to the
      enemy during the battle. Prince Poniatowski perished at the battle of
      Leipsic in an attempt to pass the Aster.
    
In October, the defeat at the Battle of Leipzig determined France's fate. The Saxon army, which had stayed loyal to us for a long time, switched sides during the battle. Prince Poniatowski died at the Battle of Leipzig while trying to cross the Aster.







      I will here mention a fact which occurred before Duroc's departure for the
      campaign of 1812. I used often to visit him at the Pavilion Marsan, in the
      Tuileries, where he lodged. One forenoon, when I had been waiting for him
      a few minutes, he came from the Emperor's apartments, where he had been
      engaged in the usual business, He was in his court-dress. As soon as he
      entered he pulled off his coat and hat and laid them aside. "I have just
      had a conversation with the Emperor about you," said he. "Say nothing to
      anybody. Have patience, and you will be—" He had, no sooner uttered
      these words than a footman entered to inform him that the Emperor, wished
      to see him immediately. "Well," said Duroc, "I must go." No sooner was the
      servant gone than Duroc stamped violently on the floor, and exclaimed,
      "That ——- ——- never leaves me a moment's rest. If
      he finds I have five minutes to myself in the course of the morning he is
      sure to send for me." He then put on his coat and returned to the Emperor,
      saying, "Another time you shall hear what I have to tell you."
    
I want to share something that happened before Duroc left for the 1812 campaign. I often visited him at the Pavilion Marsan in the Tuileries, where he stayed. One morning, after waiting for him a few minutes, he came out of the Emperor's rooms, where he had been busy with his usual work. He was in his court uniform. As soon as he walked in, he took off his coat and hat and set them aside. "I just had a conversation with the Emperor about you," he said. "Don't say anything to anyone. Be patient, and you will be—" Just as he finished this sentence, a footman came in to tell him that the Emperor wanted to see him right away. "Well," Duroc said, "I have to go." No sooner had the servant left than Duroc stomped hard on the floor and exclaimed, "That ——- ——- never gives me a moment's peace. If he knows I have five minutes to myself in the morning, he’s sure to call for me." He then put his coat back on and went back to the Emperor, saying, "Next time, I'll tell you what I wanted to share."







      From that time I did not see Duroc until, the month of January 1813. He
      was constantly absent from Paris, and did not return until the end of
      1812. He was much affected at the result of the campaign, but his
      confidence in Napoleon's genius kept up his spirits. I turned the
      conversation from this subject and reminded him of his promise to tell me
      what had passed between the Emperor and himself relative tome. "You shall
      hear," said he. "The Emperor and I had been playing at billiards, and,
      between ourselves, he plays very badly. He is nothing at a game which
      depends on skill. While negligently rolling his balls about he muttered
      these words: 'Do you ever see Bourrienne now?'—'Yes, Sire, he
      sometimes dines with me on diplomatic reception-days, and he looks so
      droll in his old-fashioned court-dress, of Lyons manufacture, that you
      would laugh if you saw him.'—'What does he say respecting the new
      regulation for the court-dresses?'—'I confess he says it is very
      ridiculous; that it will have no other result than to enable the Lyons
      manufacturers to get rid of their old-fashioned goods; that forced
      innovations on the customs of a nation are never successful.'—'Oh,
      that is always the way with Bourrienne; he is never pleased with
      anything.'— 'Certainly, Sire, he is apt to grumble; but he says what
      he thinks.'— 'Do you know, Duroc, he served me very well at Hamburg.
      He raised a good deal of money for me. He is a man who understands
      business. I will not leave him unemployed. Time must hang heavily on his
      hands. I will see what I can do for him. He has many enemies.'—'And
      who has not, Sire?'— 'Many complaints against him were transmitted
      to me from Hamburg, but the letter which he wrote to me in his
      justification opened my eyes, and I begin to think that Savary had good
      motives for defending him. Endeavours are made to dissuade me from
      employing him, but I shall nevertheless do so at last. I remember that it
      was he who first informed me of the near approach of the war which we are
      now engaged in. I forget all that has been said against him for the last
      two years, and as soon as peace is concluded, and I am at leisure, I will
      think of him.'"
    
From that time, I didn’t see Duroc until January 1813. He had been away from Paris and didn’t come back until the end of 1812. He was quite upset about the outcome of the campaign, but his faith in Napoleon’s brilliance kept his spirits up. I changed the subject and reminded him of his promise to tell me what the Emperor had said to him about me. "You’ll hear," he replied. "The Emperor and I had been playing billiards, and between you and me, he’s not very good at it. He lacks skill at games that require it. While casually rolling his balls, he muttered, 'Do you ever see Bourrienne anymore?'—'Yes, Sire, he sometimes dines with me on diplomatic reception days, and he looks so funny in his old-fashioned court attire made in Lyons that you would laugh if you saw him.'—'What does he say about the new regulations for the court attire?'—'Honestly, he thinks it’s quite ridiculous; that it will only allow the Lyons manufacturers to sell off their old stock; that forced changes to a nation’s customs never work.'—'Oh, that’s just the way Bourrienne is; he’s never happy with anything.'— 'Sure, Sire, he does tend to complain, but he speaks his mind.'—'You know, Duroc, he was very useful to me in Hamburg. He raised a lot of funds for me. He’s a guy who knows how to get things done. I won't leave him without work. He must be feeling idle. I’ll see what I can do for him. He has a lot of enemies.'—'And who doesn’t, Sire?'— 'I received many complaints about him from Hamburg, but the letter he wrote to me defending himself opened my eyes, and I’m starting to think Savary had good reasons for supporting him. People are trying to convince me not to hire him, but I’ll probably do it anyway. I remember he was the first to inform me about the imminent war we're involved in now. I’m ignoring everything said against him for the last two years, and as soon as peace is settled and I have some free time, I’ll think about him.'"







      After relating to me this conversation Duroc said, "you must, of course,
      feel assured that I said all I think of you, and I will take an
      opportunity of reminding him of you. But we must we patient. Adieu, my
      dear friend; we must set off speedily, and Heaven knows when we shall be
      back again!" I wished him a successful campaign and a speedy return. Alas!
      I was doomed to see my excellent friend only once again.
    
After sharing this conversation with me, Duroc said, "You must know that I expressed everything I feel about you, and I’ll make sure to remind him of you. But we need to be patient. Goodbye, my dear friend; we must leave quickly, and who knows when we’ll be back!" I wished him a successful campaign and a quick return. Unfortunately, I was destined to see my wonderful friend only one more time.







      Next to the death of Duroc the loss most sincerely regretted during the
      campaign of 1813 was that of Prince Poniatowski. Joseph Poniatowaki, a
      nephew of Stanislas Augustus, King of Poland, was born at Warsaw on the
      7th of May 1763: At an early age he was remarkable for his patriotic
      spirit; but his uncle's influence gave him an apparent irresolution, which
      rendered him suspected by some of the parties in Poland. After his uncle
      had acceded to the Confederation of Targowitz, Poniatowski left the
      service accompanied by most of his principal officers. But when, in 1794,
      the Poles endeavoured to repulse the Russians, he again repaired to the
      Polish camp and entered the army as a volunteer. His noble conduct
      obtained for him the esteem of his countrymen. Kosciusko gave him the
      command of a division, with which he rendered useful services during the
      two sieges of Warsaw. Immediately after the surrender of that capital
      Poniatowski went to Vienna. He refused the offers of Catherine and Paul to
      bear arms in the service of Russia.
    
Next to Duroc's death, the loss most deeply felt during the 1813 campaign was that of Prince Poniatowski. Joseph Poniatowski, a nephew of Stanislas Augustus, King of Poland, was born in Warsaw on May 7, 1763. From a young age, he was known for his patriotic spirit, but his uncle's influence made him appear indecisive, leading some factions in Poland to mistrust him. After his uncle joined the Confederation of Targowitz, Poniatowski left the service, taking most of his top officers with him. However, when the Poles tried to fend off the Russians in 1794, he returned to the Polish camp and joined the army as a volunteer. His noble actions earned him the respect of his fellow countrymen. Kosciusko appointed him the commander of a division, and he provided valuable services during the two sieges of Warsaw. Right after the surrender of the capital, Poniatowski went to Vienna. He turned down offers from Catherine and Paul to join the Russian military.







      Poniatowaki retired to his estate year Warsaw, where he lived like a
      private gentleman until the creation of the Grand Duchy of Warsaw revived
      the hopes of the Polish patriots. He then became War Minister. The
      Archduke Ferdinand having come, in 1809, with Austrian troops to take
      possession of the Duchy of Warsaw, Poniatowski, who commanded the Polish
      troops, which were very inferior in numbers to the Austrian force, obliged
      the latter, rather by dint of skillful maneuvering than by fighting, to
      evacuate the Grand Duchy. He pursued them into Galicia as far as Cracow.
    
Poniatowski retired to his estate near Warsaw, where he lived as a private gentleman until the establishment of the Grand Duchy of Warsaw reignited the hopes of Polish patriots. He then became the War Minister. In 1809, when Archduke Ferdinand arrived with Austrian troops to take control of the Duchy of Warsaw, Poniatowski, who led the Polish forces that were significantly outnumbered by the Austrians, managed to force them to leave the Grand Duchy more through clever maneuvering than direct combat. He followed them into Galicia, reaching as far as Cracow.







      After this honourable campaign he continued to exercise his functions as
      Minister until 1812. The war against Russia again summoned him to the head
      of the Polish army. After taking part in all the events of that war, which
      was attended by such various chances, Poniatowaki was present at the
      battle of Leipsic. That battle, which commenced on the 14th of October,
      the anniversary of the famous battles of Ulm and of Jena, lasted four
      days, and decided the fate of Europe. Five hundred thousand men fought on
      a surface of three square leagues.
    
After this honorable campaign, he continued to serve as Minister until 1812. The war against Russia called him back to lead the Polish army. After participating in all the events of that war, which had many ups and downs, Poniatowski was present at the battle of Leipzig. That battle, which started on October 14th, the anniversary of the famous battles of Ulm and Jena, lasted four days and determined the fate of Europe. Five hundred thousand men fought over an area of three square leagues.







      Retreat having become indispensable, Napoleon took leave at Leipsic of the
      King of Saxony and his family, whom he had brought with him from Dresden.
      The Emperor then exclaimed in a loud voice, "Adieu; Saxons," to the people
      who filled the market-place, where the King of Saxony resided. With some
      difficulty, and after passing through many turnings and windings, he
      gained the suburb of Runstadt and left Leipsic by the outer gate of that
      suburb which leads to the bridge of the Elster, and to Lindenau. The
      bridge was blown up shortly after he had passed it, and that event utterly
      prevented the retreat of the part of the army which was on the left bank
      of the Easter, and which fell into the power of the enemy. Napoleon was at
      the time accused of having ordered the destruction of the bridge
      immediately after he had himself passed it in order to secure his own
      personal retreat, as he was threatened by the active pursuit of the enemy.
      The English journals were unanimous on this point, and to counteract this
      opinion, which was very general, an article was inserted in the
      'Moniteur'.
    
Retreat having become essential, Napoleon said goodbye in Leipsic to the King of Saxony and his family, whom he had accompanied from Dresden. The Emperor then called out loudly, "Goodbye, Saxons," to the crowd in the marketplace where the King of Saxony lived. After some difficulty and navigating through many twists and turns, he reached the suburb of Runstadt and left Leipsic through the outer gate of that suburb, which leads to the Elster bridge and to Lindenau. The bridge was blown up shortly after he crossed it, completely blocking the retreat of the part of the army stationed on the left bank of the Elster, leaving them at the mercy of the enemy. At that time, Napoleon faced accusations of ordering the bridge's destruction right after he had crossed it to ensure his own escape, as he was being actively pursued by the enemy. English newspapers unanimously supported this view, and to counteract this widespread belief, an article was published in the 'Moniteur'.







      Before passing the bridge of the Elster Napoleon had directed Poniatowski,
      in concert with Marshal Macdonald, to cover and protect the retreat, and
      to defend that part of the suburb of Leipsic which is nearest to the Borne
      road. For the execution of these orders he had only 2000 Polish infantry.
      He was in this desperate situation when he saw the French columns in full
      retreat and the bridge so choked up with their artillery and waggons that
      there was no possibility of passing it. Then drawing his sword, and
      turning to the officers who were near him, he said, "Here we must fall
      with honour!" At the head of a small party of cuirassiers and Polish
      officers he rushed on the columns of the Allies. In this action he
      received a ball in his left arm: he had already been wounded on the 14th
      and 16th. He nevertheless advanced, but he found the suburb filled with
      Allied troops.
    
Before crossing the Elster bridge, Napoleon instructed Poniatowski, along with Marshal Macdonald, to cover and protect the retreat and to defend the part of the Leipzig suburb closest to the Borne road. To carry out these orders, he had only 2,000 Polish infantry. He was in this dire situation when he noticed the French columns in full retreat and the bridge so congested with their artillery and wagons that crossing it was impossible. Drawing his sword, he turned to the officers nearby and declared, "Here we must fight with honor!" Leading a small group of cuirassiers and Polish officers, he charged at the Allied columns. During this assault, he was shot in his left arm, having already been wounded on the 14th and 16th. Despite this, he continued to advance, only to find the suburb filled with Allied troops.






 —[The Allies were so numerous that they scarcely perceived the
   losses they sustained. Their masses pressed down upon us in every
   direction, and it was impossible that victory could fail to be with
   them. Their success, however, would have been less decisive had it
   not been for the defection of the Saxons. In the midst of the
   battle, these troops having moved towards the enemy, as if intending
   to make an attack, turned suddenly around, and opened a heavy fire
   of artillery and musketry on the columns by the aids of which they
   had a few moments before been fighting. I do not know to what page
   of history such a transaction is recorded. This event immediately
   produced a great difference in our affairs, which were before in a
   bad enough train. I ought here mention that before the battle the
   Emperor dismissed a Bavarian division which still remained with him.
   He spoke to the officers in terms which will not soon be effaced
   from their memory. He told them, that, "according to the laws of
   war, they were his prisoners, since their Government had taken part
   against him; but that he could not forget the services they had
   rendered him, and that they were therefore at liberty to return
   home." These troops left the army, where they were much esteemed,
   and marched for Bavaria.]— 
 —[The Allies were so many that they hardly noticed the losses they took. Their numbers pressed in on us from every direction, making it impossible for them not to win. However, their victory would have been less certain if it hadn't been for the betrayal of the Saxons. In the heat of battle, these troops, who had just been fighting alongside us, suddenly turned and unleashed a heavy barrage of artillery and gunfire on our columns. I'm not sure where in history this moment is recorded. This betrayal instantly changed our situation, which was already looking pretty grim. I should mention that before the battle, the Emperor had dismissed a Bavarian division that was still with him. He addressed the officers in a way they’re unlikely to forget. He told them that, "according to the laws of war, they were his prisoners since their government had sided against him; but he couldn't forget the service they had provided, so they were free to go home." These troops left the army, which held them in high regard, and marched back to Bavaria.]—







      He fought his way through them and received another wound. He then threw
      himself into the Pleisse, which was the first river he came to. Aided by
      his officers, he gained the opposite bank, leaving his horse in the river.
      Though greatly exhausted he mounted another, and gained the Elster, by
      passing through M. Reichenbach's garden, which was situated on the side of
      that river. In spite of the steepness of the banks of the Elster at that
      part, the Prince plunged with his horse into the river: both man and horse
      were drowned, and the same fate was shared by several officers who
      followed Poniatawski's example. Marshal Macdonald was, luckily, one of
      those who escaped. Five days after a fisherman drew the body of the
      Prince, out of the water. On the 26th of October it was temporarily
      interred at Leipsic, with all the honours due to the illustrious deceased.
      A modest stone marks the spot where the body of the Prince was dragged
      from the river. The Poles expressed a wish to. erect a monument to the
      memory of their countryman in the garden of M. Reichenbach, but that
      gentleman declared he would do it at his own expense, which he did. The
      monument consists of a beautiful sarcophagus, surrounded by weeping
      willows. The body of the Prince, after bring embalmed, was sent in the
      following year to Warsaw, and in 1816 it was deposited in the cathedral,
      among the remains of the Kings and great men of Poland. The celebrated
      Thorwaldsen was commissioned to execute a monument for his tomb. Prince
      Poniatowski left no issue but a natural son, born in 1790. The royal race,
      therefore existed only in a collateral branch of King Stanislas, namely,
      Prince Stanislas, born in 1754.
    
He fought his way through and got another wound. Then he jumped into the Pleisse, which was the first river he encountered. With the help of his officers, he made it to the other side, leaving his horse in the water. Although he was extremely exhausted, he mounted another horse and reached the Elster by going through M. Reichenbach's garden, which was next to that river. Despite the steep banks of the Elster in that area, the Prince went in with his horse: both he and the horse drowned, and several officers who followed Poniatowski also met the same fate. Luckily, Marshal Macdonald was one of the survivors. Five days later, a fisherman pulled the Prince's body out of the water. On October 26th, he was temporarily buried in Leipsic, receiving all the honors due to an illustrious person. A simple stone marks the spot where the Prince's body was retrieved from the river. The Polish people wanted to build a monument in memory of their countryman in M. Reichenbach's garden, but he said he would do it at his own expense, which he did. The monument features a beautiful sarcophagus surrounded by weeping willows. After being embalmed, the Prince's body was sent to Warsaw the following year, and in 1816, it was placed in the cathedral among the remains of Poland's kings and great figures. The famous Thorwaldsen was commissioned to create a monument for his tomb. Prince Poniatowski had no descendants except for a natural son born in 1790. Therefore, the royal lineage existed only in a collateral branch of King Stanislas, specifically Prince Stanislas, born in 1754.








 


 




















      CHAPTER XXX.
    



      1813
    
1813


   Amount of the Allied forces against Napoleon—Their advance towards
   the Rhine—Levy of 280,000 men—Dreadful situation of the French at
   Mayence—Declaration of the Allies at Frankfort—Diplomatic
   correspondents—The Duc de Bassano succeeded by the Duke of Vicenza
   —The conditions of the Allies vaguely accepted—Caulaincourt sent to
   the headquarters of the Allies—Manifesto of the Allied powers to
   the French people.—Gift of 30,000,000 from the Emperor's privy
   purse—Wish to recall M. de Talleyrand—Singular advice relative to
   Wellington—The French army recalled from Spain—The throne resigned
   Joseph—Absurd accusation against M. Laine—Adjournment of the
   Legislative Body—Napoleon's Speech to the Legislative Body—Remarks
   of Napoleon reported by Cambacérès.

   Amount of the Allied forces against Napoleon—Their advance towards the Rhine—Mobilization of 280,000 men—Desperate situation of the French at Mainz—Declaration of the Allies in Frankfurt—Diplomatic communications—The Duc de Bassano replaced by the Duke of Vicenza—The Allies' conditions vaguely accepted—Caulaincourt sent to the Allies' headquarters—Manifesto of the Allied powers to the French people.—Donation of 30,000,000 from the Emperor's private funds—Desire to bring back M. de Talleyrand—Unique advice regarding Wellington—The French army recalled from Spain—The throne abdicated by Joseph—Unfounded accusation against M. Laine—Suspension of the Legislative Body—Napoleon's Speech to the Legislative Body—Comments from Napoleon reported by Cambacérès.







      When the war resumed its course after the disaster of Leipsic I am certain
      that the Allied sovereigns determined to treat with Napoleon only in his
      own capital, as he, four years before, had refused to treat with the
      Emperor of Austria except at Vienna. The latter sovereign now completely
      raised the mask, and declared to the Emperor that he would make common
      cause with Russia and Prussia against him. In his declaration he made rise
      of the singular pretext, that the more enemies there were against Napoleon
      there would be the greater chance of speedily obliging him to accede to
      conditions which would at length restore the tranquillity of which Europe
      stood so much in need. This declaration on the part of Austria was an
      affair of no little importance, for she had now raised an army of 260,000
      men. An equal force was enrolled beneath the Russian banners, which were
      advancing towards the Rhine. Prussia had 200,000 men; the Confederation of
      the Rhine 150,000: in short, including the Swedes and the Dutch, the
      English troops in Spain and in the Netherlands, the Danes, who had
      abandoned us, the Spaniards and Portuguese, whose courage and hopes were
      revived by our reverses, Napoleon had arrayed against him upwards of a
      million of armed men. Among them, too, were the Neapolitans, with Murat at
      their head!
    
When the war picked up again after the disaster at Leipzig, I’m sure the Allied leaders decided to negotiate with Napoleon only in his own capital, just as he had, four years earlier, refused to negotiate with the Emperor of Austria except in Vienna. This time, the Austrian Emperor completely dropped any pretense and declared that he would join forces with Russia and Prussia against Napoleon. In his declaration, he made the unusual argument that the more enemies there were against Napoleon, the better chance there was of quickly forcing him to agree to terms that would finally restore the peace that Europe desperately needed. This declaration from Austria was significant because they had now raised an army of 260,000 men. An equal number had been recruited under the Russian banners, which were moving towards the Rhine. Prussia had 200,000 men; the Confederation of the Rhine had 150,000. Altogether, including the Swedes and the Dutch, the British troops in Spain and the Netherlands, the Danes who had turned against us, and the Spaniards and Portuguese whose courage and hopes had been renewed by our setbacks, Napoleon faced over a million armed men. Among them were also the Neapolitans, led by Murat!







      The month of November 1813 was fatal to the fortune of Napoleon. In all
      parts the French armies were repulsed and driven back upon the Rhine,
      while-in every direction, the Allied forces advanced towards that river.
      For a considerable time I had confidently anticipated the fall of the
      Empire; not because the foreign sovereigns had vowed its destruction, but
      because I saw the impossibility of Napoleon defending himself against all
      Europe, and because I knew that, however desperate might be his fortune,
      nothing would induce him to consent to conditions which he considered
      disgraceful. At this time every day was marked by a new defection. Even
      the Bavarians, the natural Allies of France, they whom the Emperor had led
      to victory at the commencement of the second campaign of Vienna, they whom
      he had, as it were, adopted on the field of battle, were now against us,
      and were the bitterest of our enemies.
    
The month of November 1813 was disastrous for Napoleon's fortunes. In every location, the French armies were pushed back toward the Rhine, while all around, the Allied forces advanced toward that river. For a long time, I had confidently expected the fall of the Empire; not because the foreign rulers were committed to its destruction, but because I recognized the impossibility of Napoleon defending himself against all of Europe, and I understood that, no matter how dire his situation might be, he would never agree to terms that he saw as dishonorable. During this time, each day brought a new betrayal. Even the Bavarians, France's natural Allies, whom the Emperor had led to victory at the start of the second campaign of Vienna, and whom he had, in a sense, taken under his wing on the battlefield, were now turned against us and became our fiercest enemies.







      Even before the battle of Leipsic, the consequences of which were so
      ruinous to Napoleon, he had felt the necessity of applying to France for a
      supply of troops; as if France had been inexhaustible. He directed the
      Empress Regent to make this demand; and accordingly Maria Louisa proceeded
      to the Senate, for the first time, in great state: but the glories of the
      Empire were now on the decline. The Empress obtained a levy of 280,000
      troops, but they were no sooner enrolled than they were sacrificed. The
      defection of the Bavarians considerably augmented the difficulties which
      assailed the wreck of the army that had escaped from Leipsic. The
      Bavarians had got before us to Hanau, a town four leagues distant from
      Frankfort; there they established themselves, with the view of cutting off
      our retreat; but French valour was roused, the little town was speedily
      carried, and the Bavarians were repulsed with considerable loss. The
      French army arrived at Mayence; if, indeed, one may give the name of army
      to a few masses of men destitute, dispirited, and exhausted by fatigue and
      privation. On the arrival of the troops at Mayence no preparation had been
      made for receiving them: there were no provisions, or supplies of any
      kind; and, as the climax of misfortune, infectious epidemics broke out
      amongst the men. All the accounts I received concurred in assuring me that
      their situation was dreadful:
    
Even before the battle of Leipzig, which had disastrous consequences for Napoleon, he realized he needed to request more troops from France, as if France had an endless supply. He instructed the Empress Regent to make this request, and Maria Louisa went to the Senate for the first time in great style. However, the glory of the Empire was clearly fading. The Empress secured a recruitment of 280,000 troops, but as soon as they were enlisted, they were quickly lost. The defection of the Bavarians significantly increased the challenges faced by the remnants of the army that had escaped from Leipzig. The Bavarians had reached Hanau, a town about four leagues from Frankfurt, and had set up there to block our retreat; however, French bravery was ignited, the small town was captured swiftly, and the Bavarians were driven back with significant losses. The French army arrived in Mainz; although, it’s debatable whether a few disorganized, dispirited men worn out by fatigue and hardships could be called an army. When the troops reached Mainz, there were no preparations to welcome them: no food or supplies of any kind; and to make matters worse, infectious diseases broke out among the soldiers. All the reports I received confirmed that their situation was horrific:







      However; without counting the wreck which escaped from the disasters of
      Leipsic, and the ravages of disease; without including the 280,000 men
      which had been raised by a 'Senatus-consulte, on the application of Maria
      Louisa, the Emperor still possessed 120,000 good troops; but they were in
      the rear, scattered along the Elbe, shut up in fortresses such as Dantzic,
      Hamburg, Torgau, and Spandau. Such was the horror of our situation that
      if, on the one hand, we could not resolve to abandon them, it was at the
      same time impossible to aid them. In France a universal cry was raised for
      peace, at whatever price it could be purchased. In this state of things it
      may be said that the year 1813 was more fatal to Napoleon than the year
      1812. The disasters of Moscow were repaired by his activity and the
      sacrifices of France; but the disasters of Leipsic were irreparable.
    
However, not counting the wreckage that survived the disasters of Leipsic and the toll of disease, and excluding the 280,000 men raised by a 'Senatus-consulte' at the request of Maria Louisa, the Emperor still had 120,000 reliable troops. However, they were positioned in the rear, scattered along the Elbe and confined to fortresses like Dantzic, Hamburg, Torgau, and Spandau. The dire nature of our situation meant that while we couldn't bring ourselves to abandon them, it was also impossible to provide them with aid. In France, there was a widespread call for peace at any cost. Given this situation, it can be said that the year 1813 was more damaging to Napoleon than the year 1812. The losses in Moscow were mitigated by his efforts and France's sacrifices, but the losses at Leipsic were irretrievable.







      I shall shortly speak of some negotiations in which, if I had chosen, I
      might have taken a part. After the battle of Leipsic, in which France
      lost, for the second time, a formidable army, all the powers allied
      against Napoleon declared at Frankfort, on the 9th of November, that they
      would never break the bonds which united them; that henceforth it was not
      merely a Continental peace, but a general peace, that would be demanded;
      and that any negotiation not having a general peace for its object would
      be rejected. The Allied powers declared that France was to be confined
      within her natural limits, the Rhine, the Alps, and the Pyrenees. This was
      all that was to remain of the vast Empire founded by Napoleon; but still
      it must be allowed it was a great deal, after the many disasters France
      had experienced, and when she was menaced with invasion by numerous and
      victorious armies. But Napoleon could not accede to such proposals, for he
      was always ready to yield to illusion when the truth was not satisfactory
      to him.
    
I will soon talk about some negotiations in which I could have participated if I had chosen to. After the Battle of Leipzig, where France lost a significant army for the second time, all the powers allied against Napoleon declared in Frankfurt on November 9 that they would never break the bonds that united them. They stated that from now on, it wouldn't just be a Continental peace, but a general peace they would seek, and any negotiation that didn't aim for a general peace would be rejected. The Allied powers announced that France would be limited to her natural borders, the Rhine, the Alps, and the Pyrenees. This is all that would remain of the vast Empire that Napoleon had built; however, it must be acknowledged that it was still a substantial amount, given the many disasters France had faced and the threat of invasion by numerous victorious armies. But Napoleon couldn’t agree to such proposals, as he was always prone to clinging to illusions when the truth didn’t satisfy him.







      According to the proposals of the Allies at Frankfort, Germany; Italy, and
      Spain were to be entirely withdrawn from the dominion of France. England
      recognised the freedom of trade and navigation, and there appeared no
      reason to doubt the sincerity of her professed willingness to make great
      sacrifices to promote the object proposed by the Allies. But to these
      offers a fatal condition was added, namely, that the Congress should meet
      in a town, to be declared neutral, on the right bank of the Rhine, where
      the plenipotentiaries of all the belligerent powers were to assemble; but
      the course of the war was not to be impeded by these negotiations.
    
According to the proposals from the Allies in Frankfurt, Germany; Italy, and Spain were to be completely removed from French control. England acknowledged the importance of free trade and navigation, and there seemed to be no reason to doubt her genuine willingness to make significant sacrifices to support the goals set by the Allies. However, a crucial condition was added to these offers: the Congress had to convene in a neutral town on the right bank of the Rhine, where representatives from all the warring powers would gather, but these negotiations were not to disrupt the ongoing war.






 —[This, system of negotiating and advancing was a realization of
   Metternich's idea copying Napoleon's own former procedure. "Let us
   hold always the sword in one head, and the olive branch in the
   other; always ready to negotiate, but only negotiating whilst
   advancing. Here is Napoleon's system: may he find enemies who will
   carry on war . . . as he would carry it on himself." (Metternich
   vol. ii. p. 346).]— 
 —[This system of negotiating and making progress was a realization of Metternich's idea, mirroring Napoleon's previous methods. "Let us always hold a sword in one hand and an olive branch in the other; always ready to negotiate, but only negotiating while making advances. Here is Napoleon's system: may he find enemies who will wage war... as he would wage it himself." (Metternich vol. ii. p. 346).]—







      The Duc de Bassano (Maret), who was still Minister for Foreign Affairs,
      replied, by order of Napoleon, to the overtures wade by the Allies for a
      general Congress; and stated that the Emperor acceded to them, and wished
      Mannheim to be chosen as the neutral town. M. Metternich replied in a
      note, dated Frankfort, the 25th of November, stating that the Allies felt
      no difficulty in acceding to Napoleon's choice of Mannheim for the meeting
      of the Congress; but as M. de Bassano's letter contained no mention of the
      general and summary bases I have just mentioned, and which had been
      communicated to M. de St. Aignan at Frankfort, M. Metternich stated that
      the Allies wished the Emperor Napoleon to declare his determination
      respecting those bases, in order that insurmountable difficulties might
      not arrest the negotiations at their very outset. The Duke of Vicenza
      (Caulaincourt), who had just succeeded the Duc de Bassano, received this
      letter. Trusting to the declaration of Frankfort he thought he would be
      justified in treating on those bases; he confidently relied on the consent
      of Napoleon. But the Allies had now determined not to grant the limits
      accorded by that declaration. Caulaincourt was therefore obliged to apply
      for fresh powers, which being granted, he replied, on the 2d of December,
      that Napoleon accepted the fundamental and summary bases which had been
      communicated by M. de St. Aignan. To this letter M. Metternich answered
      that the Emperors of Russia and Austria were gratified to find that the
      Emperor of France recognised the bases judged necessary by the Allies;
      that the two sovereigns would communicate without delay the official
      document to their Allies, and that they were convinced that immediately on
      receiving their reply the negotiations might be opened without any
      interruption of the war.
    
The Duc de Bassano (Maret), who was still the Minister for Foreign Affairs, replied, on Napoleon's orders, to the proposals made by the Allies for a general Congress. He stated that the Emperor agreed to their request and preferred Mannheim as the neutral location. M. Metternich responded in a note dated November 25 from Frankfort, indicating that the Allies had no problem accepting Napoleon's choice of Mannheim for the Congress meeting. However, since M. de Bassano's letter did not mention the general and summary bases that had been communicated to M. de St. Aignan in Frankfort, M. Metternich expressed that the Allies wanted Emperor Napoleon to clarify his stance on those bases so that there wouldn't be any major obstacles to negotiations right from the start. The Duke of Vicenza (Caulaincourt), who had just taken over from the Duc de Bassano, received this letter. Believing in the declaration from Frankfort, he thought it was acceptable to negotiate based on those bases and confidently relied on Napoleon's agreement. But the Allies had decided not to accept the limits set by that declaration. Consequently, Caulaincourt had to request new authority, which was granted. He then responded on December 2 that Napoleon accepted the fundamental and summary bases outlined by M. de St. Aignan. In response, M. Metternich stated that the Emperors of Russia and Austria were pleased to see that the Emperor of France acknowledged the bases deemed necessary by the Allies; that both sovereigns would promptly communicate the official document to their Allies, and that they were confident that as soon as they received their response, negotiations could begin without any interruption to the war.







      We shall now see the reason why these first negotiations came to no
      result. In the month of October the Allies overthrew the colossal edifice
      denominated the French Empire. When led by victory to the banks of the
      Rhine they declared their wish to abstain from conquest, explained their
      intentions, and manifested an unalterable resolution to abide by them.
      This determination of the Allies induced the French Government to evince
      pacific intentions. Napoleon wished, by an apparent desire for peace, to
      justify, if I may so express myself, in the eyes of his subjects, the
      necessity of new sacrifices; which, according to his proclamations, he
      demanded only to enable him to obtain peace on as honourable conditions as
      possible. But the truth is, he was resolved not even to listen to the
      offers made at Frankfort. He always represented the limits of the Rhine as
      merely a compensation for the dismemberment of Poland and the immense
      aggrandisement of the English possessions in Asia. But he wanted to gain
      time, and, if possible, to keep the Allied armies on the right bank of the
      Rhine.
    
We will now look at why these initial negotiations led to no results. In October, the Allies toppled the massive structure known as the French Empire. After achieving victory, they reached the banks of the Rhine and expressed their desire to avoid conquest, clarified their intentions, and showed a firm commitment to stick to them. This stance by the Allies prompted the French Government to show peaceful intentions. Napoleon aimed to create an illusion of seeking peace to justify, if I may say so, to his citizens the need for new sacrifices; he claimed these sacrifices were only necessary to secure peace under the best conditions possible. However, the reality was that he was determined not even to consider the offers made in Frankfurt. He consistently portrayed the Rhine's boundaries as merely compensation for the breakup of Poland and the massive expansion of English territories in Asia. But he wanted to buy time and, if possible, keep the Allied armies on the right bank of the Rhine.







      The immense levies made in France, one after the other, had converted the
      conscription into a sort of pressgang. Men employed in agriculture and
      manufactures were dragged from their labours; and the people began to
      express their dissatisfaction at the measures of Government more loudly
      than they had hitherto ventured to do; yet all were willing to make
      another effort, if they could have persuaded themselves that the Emperor
      would henceforth confine his thoughts to France alone. Napoleon sent
      Caulaincourt to the headquarters of the Allies; but that was only for the
      sake of gaining time, and inducing a belief that he was favourably
      disposed to peace.
    
The huge taxes imposed in France, one after another, had turned conscription into a kind of forced labor. Men working in farming and manufacturing were pulled from their jobs, and people started to voice their dissatisfaction with the government's actions more loudly than they had before. Still, everyone was ready to make another effort if they could convince themselves that the Emperor would focus solely on France from now on. Napoleon sent Caulaincourt to the Allies' headquarters, but that was just to buy time and create the impression that he was inclined toward peace.







      The Allies having learned the immense levies of troops which Napoleon was
      making, and being well acquainted with the state of feeling in France,
      published the famous manifesto, addressed to the French people, which was
      profusely circulated, and may be referred to as a warning to subjects who
      trust to the promises of Governments.
    
The Allies, having learned about the massive troop increases that Napoleon was making and being well aware of the mood in France, published the famous manifesto addressed to the French people. This manifesto was widely circulated and can be seen as a warning to citizens who rely on the promises of their Governments.







      The good faith with which the promises in the manifesto were kept may be
      judged of from the Treaty of Paris. In the meantime the manifesto did not
      a little contribute to alienate from Napoleon those who were yet faithful
      to his cause; for, by believing in the declarations of the Allies, they
      saw in him the sole obstacle to that peace which France so ardently
      desired. On this point, too, the Allies were not wrong, and I confess that
      I did not see without great surprise that the Duc de Rovigo, in that part
      of his Memoirs where he mentions this manifesto, reproaches those who
      framed it for representing the Emperor as a madman, who replied to
      overtures of peace only by conscription levies: After all, I do not intend
      to maintain that the declaration was entirely sincere; with respect to the
      future it certainly was not. Switzerland was already tampered with, and
      attempts were made to induce her to permit the Allied troops to enter
      France by the bridge of Bale. Things were going on no better in the south
      of France, where the Anglo-Spanish army threatened our frontiers by the
      Pyrenees, and already occupied Pampeluna; and at the same time the
      internal affairs of the country were no less critical than its external
      position. It was in vain to levy troops; everything essential to an army
      was wanting. To meet the most pressing demands the Emperor drew out
      30,000,000 from the immense treasure which he had accumulated in the
      cellars and galleries of the Pavillion Marsan, at the Tuileries. These
      30,000,000 were speedily swallowed up. Nevertheless it was an act of
      generosity on the part of Napoleon, and I never could understand on what
      ground the Legislative Body complained of the outlay, because, as the
      funds did not proceed from the Budget, there needed no financial law to
      authorise their application. Besides, why did these rigid legislators,
      who, while fortune smiled on Bonaparte, dared not utter a word on the
      subject, demand, previously to the gratuitous gift just mentioned, that
      the 350,000,000 in the Emperor's privy puree should be transferred to the
      Imperial treasury and carried to the public accounts? Why did they wink at
      the accumulation in the Tuileries of the contributions and exactions
      levied in, conquered countries? The answer is plain: because there would
      have been danger in opposing it.
    
The good faith with which the promises in the manifesto were kept can be seen in the Treaty of Paris. In the meantime, the manifesto contributed significantly to turning away from Napoleon those who were still loyal to his cause; by believing in the Allies' statements, they viewed him as the only barrier to the peace that France desperately wanted. On this point, the Allies were not mistaken, and I must admit I was quite surprised that the Duc de Rovigo, in his Memoirs where he discusses this manifesto, blames those who wrote it for portraying the Emperor as a madman who responded to peace offers only by raising conscription. After all, I don't mean to suggest that the declaration was completely sincere; regarding the future, it certainly was not. Switzerland was already being manipulated, and efforts were being made to persuade her to allow Allied troops to enter France via the bridge of Bale. The situation in the south of France was no better, where the Anglo-Spanish army threatened our borders along the Pyrenees and had already taken Pampeluna; at the same time, the internal situation in the country was just as critical as its external position. It was useless to recruit troops; everything necessary for an army was lacking. To address the most urgent needs, the Emperor withdrew 30 million from the vast treasure he had stored in the cellars and galleries of the Pavillion Marsan at the Tuileries. This 30 million was quickly used up. Nevertheless, it was a generous act on Napoleon's part, and I could never understand why the Legislative Body complained about the expenditure since the funds did not come from the Budget, so no financial law was needed to authorize their use. Moreover, why did these strict legislators, who, when fortune favored Bonaparte, dared not speak up on the issue, demand that the 350 million in the Emperor's personal treasury be transferred to the Imperial treasury and recorded in the public accounts before the aforementioned gratuity? Why did they overlook the accumulation in the Tuileries of the contributions and exactions collected in conquered countries? The answer is clear: because opposing it would have posed a risk.







      Amidst the difficulties which assailed the Emperor he cast his eyes on M.
      de Talleyrand. But it being required, as a condition of his receiving the
      portfolio of Foreign Affairs, that he should resign his office of
      Vice-Grand-Elector, M. de Talleyrand preferred a permanent post to a
      portfolio, which the caprice of a moment might withdraw. I have been
      informed that, in a conversation with the Emperor, M. de Talleyrand gave
      him the extraordinary advice of working upon the ambition of the English
      family of Wellesley, and to excite in the mind of Wellington, the lustre
      of whose reputation was now dawning, ambitious projects which would have
      embarrassed the coalition. Napoleon, however, did not adopt this
      proposition, the issue of which he thought too uncertain, and above all,
      too remote, in the urgent circumstances in which it stood. Caulaincourt
      was then made Minister for Foreign Affairs, in lieu of M. Maret, who was
      appointed Secretary of State, an office much better suited to him.
    
Amid the challenges facing the Emperor, he looked to M. de Talleyrand. However, since it was a requirement for him to resign as Vice-Grand-Elector to take on the role of Foreign Affairs Minister, M. de Talleyrand chose to keep his permanent position instead of taking a portfolio that could be taken away at any moment. I’ve heard that during a conversation with the Emperor, M. de Talleyrand suggested an unusual strategy: to leverage the ambitions of the English family of Wellesley and stir some ambitious plans in Wellington, whose rising reputation could complicate things for the coalition. However, Napoleon didn't go along with this idea, believing it was too uncertain and, more importantly, too far-fetched given the urgent circumstances. Caulaincourt was then appointed Minister for Foreign Affairs, replacing M. Maret, who was given the role of Secretary of State, which suited him much better.







      Meanwhile the Emperor was wholly intent on the means of repelling the
      attack which was preparing against him. The critical circumstances in
      which he was placed seemed to restore the energy which time had in some
      measure robbed him of. He turned his eyes towards Spain, and resolved to
      bring the army from that country to oppose the Allies, whose movements
      indicated their intention of entering France by Switzerland. An event
      occurred connected with this subject calculated to have a decided
      influence on the affairs of the moment, namely, the renunciation by
      Joseph, King of Spain, of all right to the crown, to be followed by the
      return; as had been agreed on; of Ferdinand to his dominions. Joseph made
      this sacrifice at the instigation of his brother. The treaty was signed,
      but an inconceivable delay occurred in its execution, while the torrent,
      which was advancing upon France, rushed forward so rapidly that the treaty
      could not be carried into execution. Ferdinand, it is true, re-ascended
      his throne, but from other causes.
    
Meanwhile, the Emperor was completely focused on how to fend off the impending attack against him. The dire situation he found himself in seemed to revive the energy that time had somewhat drained from him. He looked towards Spain and decided to bring the army from there to counter the Allies, whose movements suggested they planned to enter France through Switzerland. An important event related to this matter occurred that was likely to significantly impact the current affairs: the resignation by Joseph, King of Spain, of any claim to the crown, which would be followed by Ferdinand's return to his lands, as previously agreed. Joseph made this sacrifice at his brother's urging. The treaty was signed, but an unbelievable delay took place in its implementation, while the wave that was advancing on France surged forward so quickly that the treaty could not be enforced. Ferdinand did regain his throne, but for different reasons.







      The Emperor was deeply interested in the march of the Allies. It was
      important to destroy the bridge of Bale, because the Rhine once crossed
      masses of the enemy would be thrown into France. At this time I had close
      relations with a foreign diplomat whom I am forbidden by discretion to
      name. He told me that the enemy was advancing towards the frontier, and
      that the bridge of Bale would not be destroyed, as it had been so agreed
      at Berne, where the Allies had gained the day. This astonished me, because
      I knew, on the other hand, from a person who ought, to have been equally
      well informed,—that it was hoped the bridge would be blown up. Being
      much interested in knowing the truth, I sent on my own account, an agent
      to Bale who on his return told me that the bridge would remain.
    
The Emperor was very focused on the Allies' movements. It was crucial to take out the bridge at Bale because if the enemy crossed the Rhine, they would flood into France. At that time, I had a close connection with a foreign diplomat whose name I can't reveal for privacy reasons. He informed me that the enemy was moving towards the border and that the bridge at Bale wouldn't be destroyed, as had been agreed in Berne, where the Allies had secured a win. This surprised me because I had also heard from someone who should have been equally informed that there was hope the bridge would be blown up. Eager to know the truth, I decided to send an agent to Bale myself, and upon returning, he confirmed that the bridge would stay intact.







      On the 19th of December the Legislative Body was convoked. It was on a
      Wednesday. M. Laine was Vice-President under M. Regnier. A committee was
      appointed to examine and report on the communications of the Emperor. The
      report and conclusions of the committee were not satisfactory; it was
      alleged that they betrayed a revolutionary tendency, of which M. Laine was
      absurdly accused of having been one of the promoters; but all who knew him
      must have been convinced of the falsehood of the charge. The Emperor
      ordered the report to be seized, and then adjourned the Legislative Body.
      Those who attentively observed the events of the time will recollect the
      stupor which prevailed in Paris on the intelligence of this seizure and of
      the adjournment of the Legislative Body. A thousand conjectures were
      started as to what new occurrences had taken place abroad, but nothing
      satisfactory was learned.
    
On December 19th, the Legislative Body was called to session. It was a Wednesday. M. Laine was the Vice-President under M. Regnier. A committee was set up to review and report on the Emperor's communications. The committee's report and conclusions were unsatisfactory; it was claimed that they showed a revolutionary inclination, and M. Laine was absurdly accused of being one of the instigators, though anyone who knew him would have recognized the accusation as false. The Emperor ordered the report to be confiscated and then adjourned the Legislative Body. Those who closely followed the events of the time will remember the shock that hit Paris upon hearing about this confiscation and the adjournment of the Legislative Body. There were countless speculations about what new developments had occurred abroad, but no clear information emerged.







      I considered this a great mistake. Who can doubt that if the Legislative
      Body had taken the frank and noble step of declaring that France accepted
      the conditions of Frankfort they would not have been listened to by the
      Allies? But the words, "You are dishonoured if you cede a single village
      acquired by a 'Senatus-consulte'," always, resounded in Napoleon's ears:
      they flattered his secret thoughts, and every pacific proposal was
      rejected.
    
I saw this as a huge mistake. Who can argue that if the Legislative Body had boldly and honestly declared that France accepted the terms of Frankfort, the Allies wouldn't have listened? But the words, "You are dishonored if you give up even one village gained by a 'Senatus-consulte'," always echoed in Napoleon's mind: they fed into his hidden thoughts, and he dismissed every peaceful proposal.







      The members of the adjourned Legislative Body went as usual to take leave
      of the Emperor, who received them on a Sunday, and after delivering to
      them the speech, which is very well known, dismissed the rebels with great
      ill-humour, refusing to hear any explanation. "I have suppressed your
      address," he began abruptly: "it was incendiary. I called you round me to
      do good—you have done ill. Eleven-twelfths of you are
      well-intentioned, the others, and above all M. Laine, are factious
      intriguers, devoted to England, to all my enemies, and corresponding
      through the channel of the advocate Deseze with the Bourbons. Return to
      your Departments, and feel that my eye will follow you; you have
      endeavoured to humble me, you may kill me, but you shall not dishonour me.
      You make remonstrances; is this a time, when the stranger invades our
      provinces, and 200,000 Cossacks are ready to overflow our country? There
      may have been petty abuses; I never connived at them. You, M. Raynouard,
      you said that. Prince Massena robbed a man at Marseilles of his house. You
      lie! The General took possession of a vacant house, and my Minister shall
      indemnify the proprietor. Is it thus that you dare affront a Marshal of
      France who has bled for his country, and grown gray in victory? Why did
      you not make your complaints in private to me? I would have done you
      justice. We should wash our dirty linen at home, and not drag it out
      before the world. You, call yourselves Representatives of the Nation. It
      is not true; you are only Deputies of the Departments; a small portion of
      the State, inferior to the Senate, inferior even to the Council of State.
      The Representatives of the People! I am alone the Representative of the
      People. Twice have 24,000,000 of French called me to the throne: which of
      you durst undertake such a burden? It had already overwhelmed (ecrase),
      your Assemblies, and your Conventions, your Vergniauds and your Guadets,
      your Jacobins and your Girondins. They are all dead! What, who are you?
      nothing—all authority is in the Throne; and what is the Throne? this
      wooden frame covered with velvet?—no, I am the Throne! You have
      added wrong to reproaches. You have talked of concessions—concessions
      that even my enemies dared not ask! I suppose if they asked Champaigne you
      would have had me give them La Brie besides; but in four months I will
      conquer peace, or I shall be dead! You advise! how dare you debate of such
      high matters (de si graves interets)! You have put me in the front of the
      battle as the cause of war—it is infamous (c'est une atrocité). In
      all your committees you have excluded the friends of Government—
      extraordinary commission—committee of finance—committee of the
      address, all, all my enemies. M. Laine, I repeat it, is a traitor; he is a
      wicked man, the others are mere intriguers. I do justice to the
      eleven-twelfths; but the factions I know, and will pursue. Is it, I ask
      again, is it while the enemy is in France that you should have done this?
      But nature has gifted me with a determined courage—nothing can
      overcome me. It cost my pride much too—I made that sacrifice; I—but
      I am above your miserable declamations—I was in need of consolation,
      and you would mortify me—but, no, my victories shall crush your
      clamours! In three months we shall have peace, and you shall repent your
      folly. I am one of those who triumph or die.
    
The members of the adjourned Legislative Body went as usual to say goodbye to the Emperor, who received them on a Sunday. After delivering his well-known speech, he dismissed the rebels in a very bad mood, refusing to listen to any explanations. "I have ignored your address," he began bluntly. "It was inflammatory. I brought you here to do good—you’ve done harm. Eleven-twelfths of you have good intentions; the others, especially M. Laine, are troublemakers, loyal to England, to all my enemies, and communicating through the lawyer Deseze with the Bourbons. Go back to your Departments and remember that I will be watching you; you’ve tried to undermine me, you may kill me, but you will not bring shame upon me. You make complaints; is this the right time, when the enemy invades our lands, and 200,000 Cossacks are ready to flood our country? There may have been some minor abuses; I have never tolerated them. You, M. Raynouard, claimed that Prince Massena stole a man's house in Marseilles. You are lying! The General took possession of an empty house, and my Minister will compensate the owner. Is this how you dare insult a Marshal of France who has fought for his country and aged in victory? Why didn’t you bring your complaints to me privately? I would’ve done right by you. We should settle our disputes at home, not air them publicly. You call yourselves Representatives of the Nation. That’s not true; you’re just Deputies of the Departments—a small part of the State, lesser than the Senate, even less than the Council of State. The Representatives of the People! I am the sole Representative of the People. Twice, 24 million French people have called me to the throne: which of you would bravely take on such a burden? It has already crushed your Assemblies, your Conventions, your Vergniauds and your Guadets, your Jacobins and your Girondins. They are all gone! What, who are you? Nothing—all authority lies with the Throne; and what is the Throne? This wooden frame covered in velvet? No, I am the Throne! You have added injury to insult. You have talked about concessions—concessions that even my enemies wouldn’t dare ask! I suppose if they asked for Champagne, you would have me give them La Brie too; but in four months, I will win peace, or I will be dead! You advise me? How dare you debate such serious matters! You have put me at the forefront of the battle as the cause of war—it’s a disgrace. In all your committees, you have excluded the friends of the Government—extraordinary commissions—finance committees—the address committee, all my enemies. M. Laine, I repeat, is a traitor; he is a wicked man, and the others are mere schemers. I acknowledge the eleven-twelfths with good intentions; I know the factions, and I will go after them. Is it, I ask again, while the enemy is in France that you should have done this? But nature has given me a strong courage—nothing can defeat me. It cost me a lot of pride too—I made that sacrifice; I—but I am above your petty rhetoric—I was in need of comfort, and you tried to humiliate me—but no, my victories will silence your complaints! In three months, we shall have peace, and you shall regret your foolishness. I am one of those who either triumph or die.







      "Go back to your Departments if any one of you dare to print your address
      I shall publish it in the Moniteur with notes of my own. Go; France stands
      in more need of me than I do of France. I bear the eleven-twelfths of you
      in my heart—I shall nominate the Deputies to the two series which
      are vacant, and I shall reduce the Legislative Body to the discharge of
      its proper duties. The inhabitants of Alsace and Franche Comte have more
      spirit than you; they ask me for arms, I send them, and one of my aides de
      camp will lead them against the enemy."
    
"Go back to your departments. If any of you dare to publish your address, I’ll make sure to announce it in the Moniteur with my own comments. Go on; France needs me more than I need France. I carry most of you in my heart—I’ll appoint Deputies for the two vacant positions, and I’ll streamline the Legislative Body to focus on its actual responsibilities. The people of Alsace and Franche-Comté have more spirit than you; they ask me for weapons, I send them, and one of my aides-de-camp will lead them into battle against the enemy."







      In after conversations he said of the Legislative Body that "its members
      never came to Paris but to obtain some favours. They importuned the
      Ministers from morning till night, and complained if they were not
      immediately satisfied. When invited to dinner they burn with envy at the
      splendour they see before them." I heard this from Cambacérès, who was
      present when the Emperor made these remarks.
    
In later conversations, he said about the Legislative Body that "its members only came to Paris to get some favors. They pestered the Ministers from morning until night and complained if they weren't immediately satisfied. When invited to dinner, they burned with jealousy at the splendor they saw around them." I heard this from Cambacérès, who was there when the Emperor made these comments.








 


 




















      CHAPTER XXXI.
    



      1813.
    
1813.


   The flag of the army of Italy and the eagles of 1813—Entrance of
   the Allies into Switzerland—Summons to the Minister of Police—
   My refusal to accept a mission to Switzerland—Interviews with M. de
   Talleyrand and the Duc de Picence—Offer of a Dukedom and the Grand
   Cordon of the Legion of Honour—Definitive refusal—The Duc de
   Vicence's message to me in 1815—Commencement of the siege of
   Hamburg—A bridge two leagues long—Executions at Lübeck—Scarcity
   of provisions in Hamburg—Banishment of the inhabitants—Men
   bastinadoed and women whipped—Hospitality of the inhabitants of
   Altona.

   The flag of the Italian army and the eagles of 1813—Entrance of the Allies into Switzerland—Summons to the Minister of Police—My refusal to accept a mission to Switzerland—Interviews with M. de Talleyrand and the Duc de Vicence—Offer of a Dukedom and the Grand Cordon of the Legion of Honour—Final refusal—The Duc de Vicence's message to me in 1815—Start of the siege of Hamburg—A bridge two leagues long—Executions in Lübeck—Shortage of food in Hamburg—Banishment of the residents—Men beaten and women whipped—Hospitality of the residents of Altona.







      I am now arrived at the most critical period in Napoleon's career. What
      reflections must he have made, if he had had leisure to reflect, in
      comparing the recollections of his rising glory with the sad picture of
      his falling fortune? What a contrast presents itself when we compare the
      famous flag of the army of Italy, which the youthful conqueror, Bonaparte,
      carried to the Directory, with those drooping eagles who had now to defend
      the aerie whence they had so often taken flight to spread their triumphant
      wings over Europe! Here we see the difference between liberty and absolute
      power! Napoleon, the son of liberty, to whom he owed everything, had
      disowned his mother, and was now about to fall. Those glorious triumphs
      were now over when the people of Italy consoled themselves for defeat and
      submitted to the magical power of that liberty which preceded the
      Republican armies. Now, on the contrary, it was to free themselves from a
      despotic yoke that the nations of Europe had in their turn taken up arms
      and were preparing to invade France.
    
I’ve now reached the most critical point in Napoleon's career. What thoughts must he have had, if he had the time to reflect, when comparing the memories of his rise to glory with the dismal reality of his decline? What a contrast stands out when we look at the famous flag of the Army of Italy that the young conqueror, Bonaparte, presented to the Directory, against those drooping eagles that now had to defend the nest from which they had often soared to spread their victorious wings across Europe! This highlights the difference between freedom and absolute power! Napoleon, the child of liberty, to whom he owed everything, had turned his back on his origins and was now on the verge of falling. Those glorious victories were long gone when the people of Italy comforted themselves in defeat and accepted the enchanting power of the liberty that had come before the Republican armies. Now, on the other hand, the nations of Europe had taken up arms to liberate themselves from a tyrannical oppression and were getting ready to invade France.







      With the violation of the Swiss territory by the Allied armies, after the
      consent of the Cantons, is connected a fact of great importance in my
      life, and which, if I had chosen, might have made a great difference in my
      destiny. On Tuesday, the 28th of December, I dined with my old friend, M.
      Pierlot, and on leaving home I was in the habit of saying where I might be
      found in case I should be wanted. At nine o'clock at night an express
      arrived from the Minister of Police desiring me to come immediately to his
      office. I confess, considering the circumstances of the times, and knowing
      the Emperor's prejudices against me, such a request coming at such an hour
      made me feel some uneasiness, and I expected nothing less then a journey
      to Vincennes. The Duc de Rovigo, by becoming responsible for me, had as
      yet warded off the blow, and the supervision to which the Emperor had
      subjected me—thanks to the good offices of Davoust—consisted
      in going three times a week to show myself to Savory.
    
With the violation of Swiss territory by the Allied armies, following the consent of the Cantons, there’s an important fact related to my life that, had I chosen differently, could have changed my destiny dramatically. On Tuesday, December 28th, I had dinner with my old friend, M. Pierlot, and when I left home, I usually mentioned where I could be found if needed. At nine o’clock that night, I received a message from the Minister of Police asking me to come to his office immediately. Honestly, given the current situation and knowing the Emperor’s biases against me, such a late request made me quite uneasy, and I anticipated nothing less than a trip to Vincennes. The Duc de Rovigo had managed to protect me so far, but the supervision imposed on me by the Emperor—thanks to Davoust’s intervention—required me to check in three times a week with Savory.







      I accordingly, having first borrowed a night-cap, repaired to the hotel of
      the Minister of Police. I was ushered into a well-lighted room, and when I
      entered I found Savary waiting for me. He was in full costume, from which
      I concluded he had just come from the Emperor. Advancing towards me with
      an air which showed he had no bad news to communicate, he thus addressed
      me:
    
I then borrowed a nightcap and went to the hotel of the Minister of Police. I was shown into a well-lit room, and when I entered, I found Savary waiting for me. He was in full uniform, which made me think he had just come from the Emperor. Approaching me with a manner that indicated he didn’t have any bad news to share, he said:







      "Bourrienne, I have just come from the Emperor, who asked me where you
      were? I told him you were in Paris, and that I saw you often. 'Well,'
      continued the Emperor, 'bid him come to me, I want to employ him. It is
      three years since he has had anything to do. I wish to send him as
      Minister to Switzerland, but he must set off directly. He must go to the
      Allies. He understands German well. The King of Prussia expressed by
      letter satisfaction at his conduct towards the Prussians whom the war
      forced to retire to Hamburg. He knows Prince Witgenstein, who is the
      friend of the King of Prussia, and probably is at Lörrach. He will see all
      the Germans who are there. I confidently rely on him, and believe his
      journey will have a good result. Caulaincourt will give him his
      instructions."
    
"Bourrienne, I just came from the Emperor, who asked me where you were. I told him you were in Paris and that I saw you often. 'Well,' the Emperor said, 'tell him to come to me; I want to give him a job. It's been three years since he's had any work. I want to send him as Minister to Switzerland, but he needs to leave immediately. He must go to the Allies. He understands German well. The King of Prussia expressed his satisfaction in a letter regarding how he treated the Prussians who were forced to retreat to Hamburg. He knows Prince Witgenstein, who is a friend of the King of Prussia and is probably in Lörrach. He will meet all the Germans who are there. I trust him completely and believe his trip will be successful. Caulaincourt will give him his instructions."







      Notwithstanding my extreme surprise at this communication I replied
      without hesitation that I could not accept the mission; that it was
      offered too late. "It perhaps is hoped;" said I, "that the bridge of Bale
      will be destroyed, and that Switzerland will preserve her neutrality. But
      I do not believe any such thing; nay, more, I know positively to the
      contrary. I can only repeat the offer comes much too late."—"I am
      very sorry for this resolution," observed Savory, "but Caulaincourt will
      perhaps persuade you. The Emperor wishes you to go to the Duc de Vicence
      to-morrow at one o'clock; he will acquaint you with all the particulars,
      and give you your instructions."—"He may acquaint me with whatever
      he chooses, but I will not go to Lörrach."—"You know the Emperor
      better than I do, he wishes you to go, and he will not pardon your
      refusal."—"He may do as he pleases, but no consideration shall
      induce me to go to Switzerland."—"You are wrong: but you will
      reflect on the matter between this and tomorrow morning. Night will bring
      good counsel, At any rate, do not fail to go to-morrow at one o'clock to
      Caulaincourt, he expects you, and directions will be given to admit you
      immediately."
    
Despite my shock at this message, I quickly replied that I couldn’t accept the mission; it was offered too late. "Perhaps they hope," I said, "that the bridge of Bale will be destroyed and that Switzerland will stay neutral. But I don’t believe that at all; in fact, I know for sure it’s the opposite. I can only stress that the offer comes way too late."—"I'm really sorry to hear that," Savory remarked, "but Caulaincourt might persuade you. The Emperor wants you to meet with the Duc de Vicence tomorrow at one o'clock; he’ll fill you in on all the details and give you your instructions."—"He can tell me whatever he wants, but I won't go to Lörrach."—"You know the Emperor better than I do; he really wants you to go, and he won’t forgive your refusal."—"He can do what he likes, but nothing will make me go to Switzerland."—"You're mistaken: but you'll think about it between now and tomorrow morning. A night’s sleep brings clarity. In any case, don’t forget to go to Caulaincourt tomorrow at one o'clock; he’s expecting you, and they will let you in right away."







      Next morning the first thing I did was to call on M. de Talleyrand. I told
      him what had taken place, and as he was intimately acquainted with
      Caulaincourt, I begged him to speak to that Minister in favour of my
      resolution. M. de Talleyrand approved of my determination not to go to
      Switzerland, and at one o'clock precisely I proceeded to M. de
      Caulaincourt's. He told me all he had been instructed to say. From the
      manner in which he made the communication I concluded that he himself
      considered the proposed mission a disagreeable one, and unlikely to be
      attended by any useful result. I observed that he must have heard from
      Savory that I had already expressed my determination to decline the
      mission which the Emperor had been pleased to offer me. The Duc de Vicence
      then, in a very friendly way, detailed the reasons which ought to induce
      me to accept the offer, and did not disguise from me that by persisting in
      my determination I ran the risk of raising Napoleon's doubts as to my
      opinions and future intentions. I replied that, having lived for three
      years as a private individual, unconnected with public affairs, I should
      have no influence at the headquarters of the Allies, and that whatever
      little ability I might be supposed to possess, that would not
      counterbalance the difficulties of my situation, and the opinion that I
      was out of favour. I added that I should appear at the headquarters
      without any decoration, without even that of the Cordon of the Legion of
      Honour to which the Emperor attached so much importance, and the want of
      which would almost have the appearance of disgrace; and I said that these
      trifles, however slightly valued by reasonable men, were not, as he well
      knew, without their influence on the men with whom I should have to treat.
      "If that be all," replied Caulaincourt, "the obstacle will speedily be
      removed. I am authorised by the Emperor to tell you that he will create
      you a Duke, and give you the Grand Cordon of the Legion of Honour."
    
The next morning, the first thing I did was visit M. de Talleyrand. I told him what had happened, and since he knew Caulaincourt well, I asked him to speak to that minister about my decision. M. de Talleyrand supported my choice not to go to Switzerland, and exactly at one o'clock, I went to see M. de Caulaincourt. He told me everything he had been instructed to communicate. From the way he delivered the message, I gathered that he found the proposed mission disagreeable and unlikely to yield any useful outcome. I noticed that he must have heard from Savory that I had already stated my intention to decline the mission that the Emperor had offered me. The Duc de Vicence then, in a very friendly manner, explained the reasons I should consider accepting the offer and did not hide the fact that by sticking to my decision, I risked arousing Napoleon's doubts about my opinions and future plans. I replied that after living as a private individual, disconnected from public affairs for three years, I wouldn't have any influence at the Allies' headquarters, and whatever limited skills I might have wouldn't offset the challenges of my situation and the perception that I was out of favor. I added that I would show up at the headquarters without any decorations, not even the Cordon of the Legion of Honour, which the Emperor valued highly, and lacking that would almost look disgraceful; and I noted that while these details might seem trivial to reasonable people, they did matter to those I would be negotiating with. "If that's all," replied Caulaincourt, "the obstacle will be cleared quickly. I have been authorized by the Emperor to inform you that he will make you a Duke and grant you the Grand Cordon of the Legion of Honour."







      After these words I thought I was dreaming, and I was almost inclined to
      believe that Caulaincourt was jesting with me. However, the offer was
      serious, and I will not deny that it was tempting; yet I nevertheless
      persisted in the refusal I had given. At length, after some further
      conversation, and renewed, but useless, entreaties on the part of M. de
      Caulaincourt, he arose, which was a signal that our interview was
      terminated. I acknowledge I remained for a moment in doubt how to act, for
      I felt we had come to no understanding. M. de' Caulaincourt advanced
      slowly towards the door of his cabinet: If I went away without knowing his
      opinion I had done nothing; addressing him, therefore, by his surname,
      "Caulaincourt;" said I, "you have frequently assured me that you would
      never forget the services I rendered to you and your family at a time when
      I possessed some influence. I know you, and therefore speak to you without
      disguise. I do not now address myself to the Emperor's Minister, but to
      Caulaincourt. You are a man of honour, and I can open my heart to you
      frankly. Consider the embarrassing situation of France, which you know
      better than I do. I do not ask you for your secrets, but I myself know
      enough. I will tell you candidly that I am convinced the enemy will pass
      the Rhine in a few days. The Emperor has been deceived: I should not have
      time to reach my destination, and I should be laughed at. My
      correspondents in Germany have made me acquainted with every particular.
      Now, Caulaincourt, tell me honestly, if you were in my place, and I in
      yours, and I should make this proposition to you, what determination would
      you adopt?"
    
After those words, I thought I was dreaming and almost believed that Caulaincourt was joking with me. However, the offer was serious, and I can't deny it was tempting; yet I still stuck to my refusal. Eventually, after some more conversation and repeated but fruitless pleas from M. de Caulaincourt, he got up, signaling that our meeting was over. I must admit I hesitated for a moment about what to do because I felt we hadn't reached any understanding. M. de Caulaincourt walked slowly toward the door of his office. If I left without knowing his opinion, I would have accomplished nothing; so I called out to him by his last name, "Caulaincourt," and said, "You have often assured me that you would never forget the services I provided to you and your family when I had some influence. I know you, so I speak to you openly. I'm not addressing the Emperor's Minister but to you as Caulaincourt. You are a man of honor, and I can speak frankly to you. Think about the difficult situation in France, which you understand better than I do. I’m not asking for your secrets, but I know enough. I'll be honest: I'm convinced the enemy will cross the Rhine in a few days. The Emperor has been misled: I wouldn't have time to reach my destination, and I would be ridiculed. My contacts in Germany have kept me updated on everything. Now, Caulaincourt, tell me sincerely, if you were in my position and I in yours, and I made this proposal to you, what would you decide?"







      I observed from the expression of Caulaincourt's countenance that my
      question had made an impression on him, and affectionately pressing my
      hand he said, "I would do as you do: Enough. I will arrange the business
      with the Emperor." This reply seemed to remove a weight from my mind, and
      I left Caulaincourt with feelings of gratitude. I felt fully assured that
      he would settle the business satisfactorily, and in this conjecture I was
      not deceived, for I heard no more of the matter.
    
I could see from Caulaincourt's expression that my question had affected him, and as he held my hand gently, he said, "I would do what you do: That's enough. I’ll handle the matter with the Emperor." His response lifted a burden off my shoulders, and I left Caulaincourt feeling grateful. I was completely confident that he would take care of everything, and I wasn't wrong, as I never heard anything more about it.







      I must here go forward a year to relate another occurrence in which the
      Duc de Vicence and I were concerned. When, in March 1815, the King
      appointed me Prefect of Police, M. de Caulaincourt sent to me a
      confidential person to inquire whether he ran any risk in remaining in
      Paris, or whether he had better remove. He had been told that his name was
      inscribed in a list of individuals whom I had received orders to arrest.
      Delighted at this proof of confidence, I returned the following answer by
      the Duc de Vicence's messenger: "Tell M. de Caulaincourt that I do not
      know where he lives. He need be under no apprehension: I will answer for
      him."
    
I need to jump ahead a year to share another event involving the Duc de Vicence and me. In March 1815, when the King appointed me as Prefect of Police, M. de Caulaincourt sent a trusted person to ask if he was at risk for staying in Paris or if he should leave. He had been informed that his name was on a list of people I had been ordered to arrest. Thrilled by this show of trust, I replied through the Duc de Vicence’s messenger: "Tell M. de Caulaincourt that I don’t know where he lives. He has nothing to worry about: I will vouch for him."







      During the campaign of 1813 the Allies, after driving the French out of
      Saxony and obliging them to retreat towards the Rhine, besieged Hamburg,
      where Davoust was shut up with a garrison of 30,000 men, resolutely
      determined to make it a second Saragossa. From the month of September
      every day augmented the number of the Allied troops, who were already
      making rapid progress on the left bank of the Elbe. Davoust endeavoured to
      fortify Hamburg on so extended a scale that, in the opinion of the most
      experienced military men, it would have required a garrison of 60,000 men
      to defend it in a regular and protracted siege. At the commencement of the
      siege Davoust lost Vandamme, who was killed in a sortie at the head of a
      numerous corps which was inconsiderately sacrificed.
    
During the 1813 campaign, the Allies pushed the French out of Saxony and forced them to retreat toward the Rhine. They then laid siege to Hamburg, where Davoust was trapped with a garrison of 30,000 men, determined to turn it into a second Saragossa. Starting in September, the number of Allied troops grew each day, and they were making swift progress on the left bank of the Elbe. Davoust tried to fortify Hamburg on such a large scale that, according to the most experienced military experts, it would have needed a garrison of 60,000 men to defend it during a long siege. At the beginning of the siege, Davoust lost Vandamme, who was killed in a sortie while leading a large group that was recklessly sacrificed.







      It is but justice to admit that Davoust displayed great activity in the
      defence, and began by laying in large supplies.
    
It’s only fair to acknowledge that Davoust was very proactive in the defense and started by stockpiling a lot of supplies.






 —[Vandamme fought under Grouchy in 1815, and died several years
   afterwards. This killing him at Hamburg is one of the curious
   mistakes seized on by the Bonapartists to deny the authenticity of
   these Memoirs.]— 
 —[Vandamme fought under Grouchy in 1815, and died several years afterwards. The claim that he was killed in Hamburg is one of the odd errors used by Bonapartists to question the authenticity of these Memoirs.]—







      General Bertrand was directed to construct a bridge to form a
      communication between Hamburg and Haarburg by joining the islands of the
      Elbe to the Continent along a total distance of about two leagues. This
      bridge was to be built of wood, and Davoust seized upon all the
      timber-yards to supply materials for its construction. In the space of
      eighty-three days the bridge was finished. It was a very magnificent
      structure, its length being 2529 toises, exclusive of the lines of
      junction, formed on the two islands.
    
General Bertrand was instructed to build a bridge to connect Hamburg and Haarburg by linking the islands of the Elbe to the mainland over a distance of about two leagues. This bridge was to be made of wood, and Davoust took over all the timber yards to gather materials for the construction. In just eighty-three days, the bridge was completed. It was a grand structure, measuring 2529 toises in length, not including the junction lines formed on the two islands.







      The inhabitants were dreadfully oppressed, but all the cruel measures and
      precautions of the French were ineffectual, for the Allies advanced in
      great force and occupied Westphalia, which movement obliged the Governor
      of Hamburg to recall to the town the different detachments scattered round
      Hamburg.
    
The residents were severely oppressed, but all the harsh measures and precautions of the French proved ineffective, as the Allies advanced powerfully and took over Westphalia, which forced the Governor of Hamburg to summon back the various detachments scattered around Hamburg.







      At Lübeck the departure of the French troops was marked by blood. Before
      they evacuated the town, an old man, and a butcher named Prahl, were
      condemned to be shot. The butcher's crime consisted in having said, in
      speaking of the French, "Der teufel hohle sie" (the devil take them). The
      old man fortunately escaped his threatened fate, but, notwithstanding the
      entreaties and tears of the inhabitants, the sentence upon Prahl was
      carried into execution.
    
At Lübeck, the French troops’ departure was marked by bloodshed. Before they left the town, an old man and a butcher named Prahl were sentenced to be shot. The butcher’s crime was having said, while talking about the French, “The devil take them.” Fortunately, the old man escaped the fate that was looming over him, but despite the pleas and tears of the townspeople, Prahl’s sentence was carried out.







      The garrison of Hamburg was composed of French, Italian, and Dutch troops.
      Their number at first amounted to 30,000, but sickness made great-havoc
      among them. From sixty to eighty perished daily in the hospitals. When the
      garrison evacuated Hamburg in May 1814 it was reduced to about 15,000 men.
      In the month of December provisions began to diminish, and there was no
      possibility of renewing the supply. The poor were first of all made to
      leave the town, and afterwards all persons who were not usefully employed.
      It is no exaggeration to estimate at 50,000 the number of persons who were
      thus exiled. The colonel commanding the gendarmerie at Hamburg notified to
      the exiled inhabitants that those who did not leave the town within the
      prescribed time would receive fifty blows with a cane and afterwards be
      driven out. But if penance may be commuted with priests so it may with
      gendarmes. Delinquents contrived to purchase their escape from the
      bastinado by a sum of money, and French gallantry substituted with respect
      to females the birch for the cane. I saw an order directing all female
      servants to be examined as to their health unless they could produce
      certificates from their masters. On the 25th of December the Government
      granted twenty-four hours longer to persons who were ordered to quit the
      town; and two days after this indulgence an ordinance was published
      declaring that those who should return to the town after once leaving it
      were to be considered as rebels and accomplices of the enemy, and as such
      condemned to death by a prevotal court. But this was not enough. At the
      end of December people, without distinction of sex or age, were dragged
      from their beds and conveyed out of the town on a cold night, when the
      thermometer was between sixteen or eighteen degrees; and it was affirmed
      that several old men perished in this removal. Those who survived were
      left on the outside of the Altona gates. At Altona they all found refuge
      and assistance. On Christmas-day 7000 of these unfortunate persons were
      received in the house of M. Rainville, formerly aide de camp to Dumouriez,
      and who left France together with that general. His house, which was at
      Holstein, was usually the scene of brilliant entertainments, but it was
      converted into the abode of misery, mourning, and death. All possible
      attention was bestowed on the unfortunate outlaws; but few profited by it,
      and what is worse, the inhabitants of Altona suffered for their
      generosity. Many of the unfortunate persons were affected with the
      epidemic disease which was raging in Hamburg, and which in consequence
      broke out at Altona.
    
The garrison of Hamburg was made up of French, Italian, and Dutch troops. They started with a total of 30,000, but illness caused heavy losses among them. Between sixty and eighty died daily in the hospitals. When the garrison left Hamburg in May 1814, it had been reduced to around 15,000 men. In December, the supply of provisions began to dwindle, and there was no way to restock. First, the poor were forced to leave the town, followed by anyone who wasn't employed in a useful role. It's not an exaggeration to say that around 50,000 people were exiled this way. The colonel in charge of the gendarmerie in Hamburg informed the exiled residents that those who didn't leave the town within the set time would receive fifty lashes with a cane and would then be expelled. However, if someone could negotiate with priests, they could also negotiate with the gendarmes. Offenders managed to buy their way out of punishment with a sum of money, and French chivalry replaced the cane with a birch when it came to women. I saw an order that required all female servants to be checked for their health unless they could show health certificates from their employers. On December 25th, the Government granted an extra twenty-four hours to those ordered to leave the town; just two days after this, a decree was issued stating that anyone who returned after leaving would be considered a rebel and accomplice of the enemy, punishable by death by a court. But that wasn’t enough. By the end of December, people of all ages and genders were pulled from their beds and forced out of the town on a cold night when the temperature was between sixteen and eighteen degrees; reports claimed that several elderly men died during this removal. Those who survived were left outside the Altona gates. At Altona, they found shelter and support. On Christmas Day, 7,000 of these unfortunate people were taken in by M. Rainville, a former aide-de-camp to Dumouriez, who had left France with him. His house in Holstein, usually known for its elegant gatherings, had turned into a place of suffering, mourning, and death. Every effort was made to care for the unfortunate exiles, but few benefited from it, and worse yet, the residents of Altona faced consequences for their kindness. Many of these unfortunate individuals were infected with the epidemic disease that was spreading in Hamburg, which then erupted in Altona.







      All means of raising money in Hamburg being exhausted, a seizure was made
      of the funds of the Bank of that city, which yet contained from seven to
      eight millions of marks. Were those who ordered this measure not aware
      that to seize on the funds of some of the citizens of Hamburg was an
      injury to all foreigners who had funds in the Bank? Such is a brief
      statement of the vexations and cruelties which long oppressed this
      unfortunate city. Napoleon accused Hamburg of Anglomania, and by ruining
      her he thought to ruin England. Hamburg, feeble and bereft of her sources,
      could only complain, like Jerusalem when besieged by Titus: "Plorans,
      ploravit in nocte."
    
With all options for raising money in Hamburg exhausted, the funds of the city's bank, which still held around seven to eight million marks, were seized. Did those who ordered this action not realize that taking the money from some citizens of Hamburg was an injustice to all foreigners who had deposits in the bank? This is a brief overview of the frustrations and cruelties that long oppressed this unfortunate city. Napoleon accused Hamburg of being too pro-English, and by destroying it, he believed he could also bring down England. Hamburg, weak and stripped of its resources, could only lament, like Jerusalem during its siege by Titus: "Plorans, ploravit in nocte."








 


 




















      CHAPTER XXXII.
    



      1813-1814.
    
1813-1814.


   Prince Eugène and the affairs of Italy—The army of Italy on the
   frontiers of Austria—Eugène's regret at the defection of the
   Bavarians—Murat's dissimulation and perfidy—His treaty with
   Austria—Hostilities followed by a declaration of war—Murat
   abandoned by the French generals—Proclamation from Paris—Murat's
   success—Gigantic scheme of Napoleon—Napoleon advised to join the
   Jacobins—His refusal—Armament of the National Guard—The Emperor's
   farewell to the officers—The Congress of Chatillon—Refusal of an
   armistice—Napoleon's character displayed in his negotiations—
   Opening of the Congress—Discussions—Rupture of the Conferences.

   Prince Eugène and the affairs of Italy—The army of Italy on the borders of Austria—Eugène's disappointment at the Bavarians switching sides—Murat's deceit and betrayal—His agreement with Austria—Conflicts leading to a declaration of war—Murat left behind by the French generals—Announcement from Paris—Murat's achievements—Napoleon's grand plan—Napoleon was advised to team up with the Jacobins—His rejection—Mobilization of the National Guard—The Emperor's farewell to the officers—The Congress of Chatillon—Rejection of a ceasefire—Napoleon's character shown in his negotiations—Start of the Congress—Debates—Breakdown of the Conferences.







      I want now to proceed to notice the affairs of Italy and the principal
      events of the Viceroyalty of Eugène. In order to throw together all that I
      have to say about the Viceroy I must anticipate the order of time.
    
I want to now talk about the situation in Italy and the key events during Eugène's time as Viceroy. To bring together everything I need to share about the Viceroy, I have to jump ahead in the timeline.







      After the campaign of 1812, when Eugène revisited Italy, he was promptly
      informed of the more than doubtful dispositions of Austria towards France.
      He then made preparations for raising an army capable of defending the
      country which the Emperor had committed to his safeguard. Napoleon was
      fully aware how much advantage he would derive from the presence on the
      northern frontiers of Italy of an army sufficiently strong to harass
      Austria, in case she should draw aside the transparent veil which still
      covered her policy. Eugène did all that depended on him to meet the
      Emperor's wishes; but in spite of his efforts the army of Italy was, after
      all; only an imaginary army to those who could compare the number of men
      actually enrolled with the numbers stated in the lists. When, in July
      1813, the Viceroy was informed of the turn taken by the negotiations at
      the shadow of a Congress assembled at Prague, he had no longer any doubt
      of the renewal of hostilities; and foreseeing an attack on Italy he
      resolved as speedily as possible to approach the frontiers of Austria. He
      had succeeded in assembling an army composed of French and Italians, and
      amounting to 45,000 infantry and 5000 cavalry. On the renewal of
      hostilities the Viceroy's headquarters were at Udine. Down to the month of
      April 1814 he succeeded in maintaining a formidable attitude, and in
      defending the entrance of his kingdom by dint of that military talent
      which was to be expected in a man bred in the great school of Napoleon,
      and whom the army looked up to as one of its most skillful generals.
    
After the campaign of 1812, when Eugène returned to Italy, he was quickly informed about Austria's questionable intentions towards France. He then made preparations to raise an army capable of defending the territory that the Emperor had entrusted to him. Napoleon knew how advantageous it would be to have a strong army on the northern borders of Italy to keep Austria in check, should she reveal her true political aims. Eugène did everything he could to align with the Emperor's expectations; however, despite his efforts, the army of Italy was ultimately just a phantom force when compared to the actual number of soldiers enrolled versus those listed. When the Viceroy learned in July 1813 about the developments in the negotiations taking place at the Congress in Prague, he had no doubt that hostilities would resume, and anticipating an attack on Italy, he decided to move towards the Austrian borders as quickly as possible. He managed to assemble an army made up of French and Italians, totaling 45,000 infantry and 5,000 cavalry. At the start of hostilities, the Viceroy's headquarters were in Udine. Until April 1814, he managed to maintain a strong presence and defend his kingdom’s entrance through the military skills expected of someone trained in Napoleon’s formidable school, and whom the army regarded as one of its most adept generals.







      During the great and unfortunate events of 1813 all eyes had been fixed on
      Germany and the Rhine; but the defection of Murat for a time diverted
      attention to Italy. That event did not so very much surprise me, for I had
      not forgotten my conversation with the King of Naples in the Champs
      Elysees, with which I have made the reader acquainted. At first Murat's
      defection was thought incredible by every one, and it highly excited
      Bonaparte's indignation. Another defection which occurred about the same
      period deeply distressed Eugène, for although raised to the rank of a
      prince, and almost a sovereign, he was still a man, and an excellent man.
      He was united to the Princess Amelia of Bavaria, who was as amiable and as
      much beloved as he, and he had the deep mortification to count the
      subjects of his father-in-law among the enemies whom he would probably
      have to combat. Fearing lest he should be harassed by the Bavarians on the
      side of the Tyrol, Eugène commenced his retrograde movement in the autumn
      of 1813. He at first fell back on the Tagliamento, and successively on the
      Adige. On reaching that river the army of Italy was considerably
      diminished, in spite of all Eugène's care of his troops. About the end of
      November Eugène learned that a Neapolitan corps was advancing upon Upper
      Italy, part taking the direction of Rome, and part that of Ancona. The
      object of the King of Naples was to take advantage of the situation of
      Europe, and he was duped by the promises held out to him as the reward of
      his treason. Murat seemed to have adopted the artful policy of Austria;
      for not only had he determined to join the coalition, but he was even
      maintaining communications with England and Austria, while at the same
      time he was making protestations of fidelity to his engagements with
      Napoleon.
    
During the significant and unfortunate events of 1813, everyone's attention was focused on Germany and the Rhine; however, Murat's betrayal temporarily shifted the spotlight to Italy. I wasn't too surprised by that development, as I remembered my conversation with the King of Naples in the Champs Elysees, which I've already shared with the reader. Initially, Murat's defection was considered unbelievable by everyone and it greatly angered Bonaparte. Another betrayal around the same time deeply upset Eugène. Although he had been elevated to the rank of a prince and was almost a sovereign, he was still very much a man, and a good one at that. He was married to Princess Amelia of Bavaria, who was just as kind and beloved as he was, and he felt the deep humiliation of having to view the subjects of his father-in-law as potential enemies. Concerned about being attacked by the Bavarians from the Tyrol, Eugène began his withdrawal in the autumn of 1813. He first retreated to the Tagliamento, and then successively to the Adige. By the time he reached that river, the army of Italy had significantly decreased, despite all of Eugène's efforts to take care of his troops. By late November, Eugène learned that a Neapolitan force was advancing into Upper Italy, with one group headed toward Rome and another toward Ancona. The King of Naples aimed to take advantage of the situation in Europe, and he was misled by the promises given to him as the reward for his betrayal. It seemed that Murat had adopted Austria's cunning strategy; not only had he decided to join the coalition, but he was also maintaining communication with England and Austria, all while publicly claiming loyalty to his agreements with Napoleon.







      When first informed of Murat's treason by the Viceroy the Emperor refused
      to believe it. "No," he exclaimed to those about him, "it cannot be!
      Murat, to whom I have given my sister! Murat, to whom I have given a
      throne! Eugène must be misinformed. It is impossible that Murat has
      declared himself against me!" It was, however, not only possible but true.
      Gradually throwing aside the dissimulation beneath which he had concealed
      his designs, Murat seemed inclined to renew the policy of Italy during the
      fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, when the art of deceiving was deemed by
      the Italian Governments the most sublime effort of genius. Without any
      declaration of war, Murat ordered the Neapolitan General who occupied Rome
      to assume the supreme command in the Roman States, and to take possession
      of the country. General Miollis, who commanded the French troops in Rome,
      could only throw himself, with his handful of men, into the Castle of St.
      Angelo, the famous mole of Adrian, in which was long preserved the
      treasury of Sixtus V. The French General soon found himself blockaded by
      the Neapolitan troops, who also blockaded Civita Vecchia and Ancona.
    
When the Viceroy first told the Emperor about Murat's betrayal, he refused to believe it. "No," he exclaimed to those around him, "it can't be! Murat, to whom I gave my sister! Murat, to whom I gave a throne! Eugène must be mistaken. There's no way Murat has turned against me!" However, it wasn’t just possible; it was true. Gradually shedding the facade he'd used to hide his intentions, Murat appeared ready to revive the strategies of Italy from the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, when deceiving was considered the pinnacle of genius by Italian governments. Without declaring war, Murat ordered the Neapolitan General stationed in Rome to take command of the Roman States and seize control of the territory. General Miollis, leading the French forces in Rome, could only retreat with his small group of soldiers to the Castle of St. Angelo, the famous fortress built by Adrian, where the treasury of Sixtus V was kept for a long time. The French General soon found himself surrounded by Neapolitan troops, who also laid siege to Civita Vecchia and Ancona.







      The treaty concluded between Murat and Austria was definitively signed on
      the 11th of January 1814. As soon as he was informed of it the Viceroy,
      certain that he should soon have to engage with the Neapolitans, was
      obliged to renounce the preservation of the line of the Adige, the
      Neapolitan army being in the rear of his right wing. He accordingly
      ordered a retrograde movement to the other side of the Mincio, where his
      army was cantoned. In this position Prince Eugène, on the 8th of February,
      had to engage with the Austrians, who had come up with him, and the
      victory of the Mincio arrested, for some time, the invasion of the
      Austrian army and its junction with the Neapolitan troops.
    
The treaty signed between Murat and Austria was finalized on January 11, 1814. Once he learned of it, the Viceroy, knowing he would soon have to confront the Neapolitans, had to give up on holding the line of the Adige, as the Neapolitan army was positioned behind his right flank. He then ordered a retreat to the other side of the Mincio, where his army was stationed. In this situation, Prince Eugène had to engage the Austrians who had caught up with him on February 8, and the victory at the Mincio temporarily halted the Austrian army's invasion and its joining with the Neapolitan forces.







      It was not until eight days after that Murat officially declared war
      against the Emperor; and immediately several general and superior
      officers, and many French troops, who were in his service, abandoned him,
      and repaired to the headquarters of the Viceroy. Murat made endeavours to
      detain them; they replied, that as he had declared war against France, no
      Frenchman who loved his country could remain in his service. "Do you
      think," returned he, "that my heart is less French than yours? On the
      contrary, I am much to be pitied. I hear of nothing but the disasters of
      the Grand Army. I have been obliged to enter into a treaty with the
      Austrians, and an arrangement with the English, commanded by Lord
      Bentinck, in order to save my Kingdom from a threatened landing of the
      English and the Sicilians, which would infallibly have excited an
      insurrection."
    
It wasn’t until eight days later that Murat officially declared war against the Emperor; immediately, several general and senior officers, along with many French troops serving under him, abandoned him and went to the Viceroy's headquarters. Murat tried to keep them from leaving, but they responded that since he had declared war on France, no Frenchman who loved his country could stay in his service. “Do you think,” he replied, “that my loyalty is any less French than yours? On the contrary, I have much to be upset about. All I hear about are the disasters of the Grand Army. I’ve had to negotiate a treaty with the Austrians and make arrangements with the English, led by Lord Bentinck, to protect my Kingdom from a potential landing by the English and the Sicilians, which would definitely have sparked an uprising.”







      There could not be a more ingenuous confession of the antipathy which
      Joachim knew the Neapolitans to entertain towards his person and
      government. His address to the French was ineffectual. It was easy to
      foresee what would ensue. The Viceroy soon received an official
      communication from Napoleon's War Minister, accompanied by an Imperial
      decree, recalling all the French who were in the service of Joachim, and
      declaring that all who were taken with arms in their hands should be tried
      by a courtmartial as traitors to their country. Murat commenced by gaining
      advantages which could not be disputed. His troops almost immediately took
      possession of Leghorn and the citadel of Ancona, and the French were
      obliged to evacuate Tuscany.
    
There couldn't be a more honest admission of the hostility that Joachim knew the Neapolitans felt towards him and his government. His appeal to the French didn't work. It was easy to predict what would happen next. The Viceroy soon received an official message from Napoleon's War Minister, along with an Imperial decree that recalled all the French serving Joachim and stated that anyone caught with weapons would be tried by a court-martial as traitors to their country. Murat started by making undeniable gains. His troops quickly took over Leghorn and the citadel of Ancona, forcing the French to leave Tuscany.







      The defection of Murat overthrew one of Bonaparte's gigantic conceptions.
      He had planned that Murat and Eugène with their combined forces should
      march on the rear of the Allies, while he, disputing the soil of France
      with the invaders, should multiply obstacles to their advance; the King of
      Naples and the Viceroy of Italy were to march upon Vienna and make Austria
      tremble in the heart of her capital before the timid million of her
      Allies, who measured their steps as they approached Paris, should
      desecrate by their presence the capital of France. When informed of the
      vast project, which, however, was but the dream of a moment, I immediately
      recognised that eagle glance, that power of discovering great resources in
      great calamities, so peculiar to Bonaparte.
    
Murat's defection derailed one of Bonaparte's grand plans. He had intended for Murat and Eugène, with their combined forces, to attack the Allies from behind, while he would fight the invaders on French soil, creating obstacles to slow their advance. The King of Naples and the Viceroy of Italy were supposed to march on Vienna and make Austria nervous right in her capital before the hesitant million of her Allies, who carefully approached Paris, could stain the heart of France with their presence. When I learned of this enormous plan, which was really just a fleeting dream, I immediately recognized that sharp insight and ability to find significant opportunities in major crises, so characteristic of Bonaparte.







      Napoleon was yet Emperor of France; but he who had imposed on all Europe
      treaties of peace no less disastrous than the wars which had preceded
      them, could not now obtain an armistice; and Caulaincourt, who was sent to
      treat for one at the camp of the Allies, spent twenty days at Luneville
      before he could even obtain permission to pass the advanced posts of the
      invading army. In vain did Caulaincourt entreat Napoleon to sacrifice, or
      at least resign temporarily, a portion of that glory acquired in so many
      battles, and which nothing could efface in history. Napoleon replied, "I
      will sign whatever you wish. To obtain peace I will exact no condition;
      but I will not dictate my own humiliation." This concession, of course,
      amounted to a determination not to sign or to grant anything.
    
Napoleon was still the Emperor of France; however, the man who had forced disastrous peace treaties on all of Europe could not now secure an armistice. Caulaincourt, who was sent to negotiate one at the Allies' camp, spent twenty days in Luneville before he even got permission to pass the forward positions of the invading army. Caulaincourt pleaded with Napoleon to give up, or at least temporarily set aside, some of the glory gained from his many battles—glory that nothing could erase from history. Napoleon responded, "I will sign whatever you wish. To achieve peace, I will demand no conditions; but I will not accept my own humiliation." This concession essentially meant he was determined not to sign or concede anything.







      In the first fortnight of January 1814 one-third of France was invaded,
      and it was proposed to form a new Congress, to be held at
      Chatillon-sur-Seine. The situation of Napoleon grew daily worse and worse.
      He was advised to seek extraordinary resources in the interior of the
      Empire, and was reminded of the fourteen armies which rose, as if by
      enchantment, to defend France at the commencement of the Revolution.
      Finally, a reconciliation with the Jacobins, a party who had power to call
      up masses to aid him, was recommended. For a moment he was inclined to
      adopt this advice. He rode on horseback through the surburbs of St.
      Antoine and St. Marceau, courted the populace, affectionately replied to
      their acclamations, and he thought he saw the possibility of turning to
      account the attachment which the people evinced for him. On his return to
      the Palace some prudent persons ventured to represent to him that, instead
      of courting this absurd sort of popularity it would be more advisable to
      rely on the nobility and the higher classes of society. "Gentlemen,"
      replied he, "you may say what you please, but in the situation in which I
      stand my only nobility is the rabble of the faubourgs, and I know of no
      rabble but the nobility whom I have created." This was a strange
      compliment to all ranks, for it was only saying that they were all rabble
      together.
    
In the first two weeks of January 1814, one-third of France was invaded, and there was a proposal to create a new Congress to be held in Chatillon-sur-Seine. Napoleon's situation worsened daily. He was urged to find extraordinary resources within the Empire and was reminded of the fourteen armies that seemingly appeared out of nowhere to defend France at the beginning of the Revolution. Eventually, a reconciliation with the Jacobins, a group capable of mobilizing large crowds to support him, was suggested. For a moment, he considered this advice. He rode on horseback through the suburbs of St. Antoine and St. Marceau, engaged with the people, warmly responded to their cheers, and thought he might be able to leverage the loyalty they showed him. Upon his return to the Palace, some cautious advisors pointed out that instead of chasing this foolish kind of popularity, it would be wiser to count on the nobility and the upper classes. "Gentlemen," he replied, "you can say what you want, but in my current situation, my only nobility is the common people of the suburbs, and the only common people I know are the nobility I have created." This was a peculiar compliment to all classes, essentially stating that they were all common people together.







      At this time the Jacobins were disposed to exert every effort to serve
      him; but they required to have their own way, and to be allowed freely to
      excite and foster revolutionary sentiments. The press, which groaned under
      the most odious and intolerable censorship, was to be wholly resigned to
      them. I do not state these facts from hearsay. I happened by chance to be
      present at two conferences in which were set forward projects infected
      with the odour of the clubs, and these projects were supported with the
      more assurance because their success was regarded as certain. Though I had
      not seen Napoleon since my departure for Hamburg, yet I was sufficiently
      assured of his feeling towards the Jacobins to be convinced that he would
      have nothing to do with them. I was not wrong. On hearing of the price
      they set on their services he said, "This is too much; I shall have a
      chance of deliverance in battle, but I shall have none with these furious
      blockheads. There can be nothing in common between the demagogic
      principles of '93 and the monarchy, between clubs of madmen and a regular
      Ministry, between a Committee of Public Safety and an Emperor, between
      revolutionary tribunals and established laws. If fall I must, I will not
      bequeath France to the Revolution from which I have delivered her."
    
At this time, the Jacobins were eager to do everything they could to support him; however, they wanted to have things their way and be allowed to stir up and encourage revolutionary feelings openly. The press, which was burdened by an awful and unbearable censorship, needed to be completely handed over to them. I'm not sharing this from hearsay. I happened to be present at two meetings where plans were put forward that were clearly influenced by the clubs, and those plans were supported with extra confidence because their success was seen as guaranteed. Although I hadn’t seen Napoleon since I left for Hamburg, I was confident enough in his feelings towards the Jacobins to believe he wouldn’t want anything to do with them. I was right. Upon hearing the demands they made for their services, he said, “This is too much; I might get a chance to free myself in battle, but not with these crazy fools. There can be nothing in common between the radical principles of '93 and the monarchy, between clubs of madmen and a proper Government, between a Committee of Public Safety and an Emperor, between revolutionary courts and established laws. If I must fall, I will not leave France to the Revolution from which I have rescued her.”







      These were golden words, and Napoleon thought of a more noble and truly
      national mode of parrying the danger which threatened him. He ordered the
      enrolment of the National Guard of Paris, which was placed under the
      command of Marshal Moncey. A better choice could not have been made, but
      the staff of the National Guard was a focus of hidden intrigues, in which
      the defence of Paris was less thought about than the means of taking
      advantage of Napoleon's overthrow. I was made a captain in this Guard,
      and, like the rest of the officers, I was summoned to the Tuileries, on
      the 23d of January, when the Emperor took leave of the National Guard
      previously to his departure from Paris to join the army.
    
These were powerful words, and Napoleon considered a more honorable and truly national way to deal with the threat against him. He ordered the enrollment of the National Guard of Paris, which was put under the command of Marshal Moncey. There couldn’t have been a better choice, but the leadership of the National Guard became a hub of secret plots, where the defense of Paris was less important than finding ways to exploit Napoleon's downfall. I was appointed as a captain in this Guard, and like the other officers, I was called to the Tuileries on January 23rd, when the Emperor bid farewell to the National Guard before leaving Paris to join the army.







      Napoleon entered with the Empress. He advanced with a dignified step,
      leading by the hand his son, who was not yet three years old. It was long
      since I had seen him. He had grown very corpulent, and I remarked on his
      pale countenance an expression of melancholy and irritability.
    
Napoleon walked in with the Empress. He moved with a regal stride, holding his son’s hand, who was not even three yet. It had been a while since I last saw him. He had become quite plump, and I noticed a look of sadness and irritability on his pale face.







      The habitual movement of the muscles of his neck was more decided and more
      frequent than formerly. I shall not attempt to describe what were my
      feelings during this ceremony, when I again saw, after a long separation,
      the friend of my youth, who had become master of Europe, and was now on
      the point of sinking beneath the efforts of his enemies. There was
      something melancholy in this solemn and impressive ceremony. I have rarely
      witnessed such profound silence in so numerous an assembly. At length
      Napoleon, in a voice as firm and sonorous as when he used to harangue his
      troops in Italy or in Egypt, but without that air of confidence which then
      beamed on his countenance, delivered to the assembled officers an address
      which was published in all the journals of the time. At the commencement
      of this address he said, "I set out this night to take the command of the
      army. On quitting the capital I confidently leave behind me my wife and my
      son, in whom so many hopes are centred." I listened attentively to
      Napoleon's address, and, though he delivered it firmly, he either felt or
      feigned emotion. Whether or not the emotion was sincere on his part, it
      was shared by many present; and for my own part I confess that my feelings
      were deeply moved when he uttered the words, "I leave you my wife and my
      son." At that moment my eyes were fixed on the young Prince, and the
      interest with which he inspired me was equally unconnected with the
      splendour which surrounded and the misfortunes which threatened him. I
      beheld in the interesting child not the King of Rome but the son of my old
      friend. All day long afterwards I could not help feeling depressed while
      comparing the farewell scene of the morning with the day on which we took
      possession of the Tuileries. How many centuries seemed the fourteen years
      which separated the two events.
    
The usual movements of his neck were more pronounced and more frequent than before. I won’t try to describe how I felt during this ceremony when I saw, after a long separation, the friend of my youth, who had become the ruler of Europe, now on the brink of defeat against his enemies. There was something sad about this solemn and powerful event. I’ve rarely witnessed such deep silence in such a large gathering. Finally, Napoleon, with a voice as firm and resonant as when he used to address his troops in Italy or Egypt, although without the confidence that used to shine on his face, gave a speech to the gathered officers that was published in all the newspapers of the time. At the beginning of his speech, he said, "I am setting out tonight to take command of the army. As I leave the capital, I leave behind my wife and my son, in whom so many hopes are placed." I listened closely to Napoleon’s speech, and even though he delivered it confidently, he either truly felt or pretended to feel emotion. Whether the emotion was genuine or not, many people present shared it; for my part, I admit that I was deeply moved when he said, "I leave you my wife and my son." At that moment, my eyes were on the young Prince, and my interest in him had nothing to do with the grandeur surrounding him or the misfortunes facing him. I saw in the charming child not the King of Rome but the son of my old friend. The entire next day, I couldn’t shake my sadness as I compared the farewell scene in the morning with the day we took over the Tuileries. It felt like centuries had passed since the fourteen years separating these two events.







      It may be worth while to remind those who are curious in comparing dates
      that Napoleon, the successor of Louis XVI., and who had become the nephew
      of that monarch by his marriage with the niece of Marie Antoinette, took
      leave of the National Guard of Paris on the anniversary of the fatal 21st
      of January, after twenty-five years of successive terror, fear, hope,
      glory, and misfortune.
    
It might be helpful to remind those interested in comparing dates that Napoleon, who succeeded Louis XVI and became the nephew of that king by marrying Marie Antoinette's niece, said goodbye to the National Guard of Paris on the anniversary of the tragic January 21st, after twenty-five years filled with terror, fear, hope, glory, and misfortune.







      Meanwhile, a Congress was opened at Chatillon-sur-Seine, at which were
      assembled the Duke of Vicenza on the part of France, Lords Aderdeen and
      Cathcart and Sir Charles Stewart as the representatives of England, Count
      Razumowsky on the part of Russia, Count Stadion for Austria, and Count
      Humboldt for Prussia. Before the opening of the Congress, the Duke of
      Vicenza, in conformity with the Emperor's orders, demanded an armistice,
      which is almost invariably granted during negotiations for peace; but it
      was now too late: the Allies had long since determined not to listen to
      any such demand. They therefore answered the Duke of Vicenza's application
      by requiring that the propositions for peace should be immediately signed.
      But these were not the propositions of Frankfort. The Allies established
      as their bases the limits of the old French monarchy. They conceived
      themselves authorised in so doing by their success and by their situation.
    
Meanwhile, a Congress was held at Chatillon-sur-Seine, where the Duke of Vicenza represented France, Lords Aberdeen and Cathcart and Sir Charles Stewart represented England, Count Razumowsky represented Russia, Count Stadion represented Austria, and Count Humboldt represented Prussia. Before the Congress began, the Duke of Vicenza, following the Emperor's orders, requested a ceasefire, which is usually granted during peace negotiations; however, it was too late: the Allies had already decided not to consider any such request. They responded to the Duke of Vicenza's application by insisting that the peace proposals be signed immediately. However, these were not the proposals from Frankfurt. The Allies established their terms based on the boundaries of the old French monarchy. They believed they were justified in doing so due to their success and current position.







      To estimate rightly Napoleon's conduct during the negotiations for peace
      which took place in the conferences at Chatillon it is necessary to bear
      in mind the organisation he had received from nature and the ideas with
      which that organisation had imbued him at an early period of life. If the
      last negotiations of his expiring reign be examined with due attention and
      impartiality it will appear evident that the causes of his fall arose out
      of his character. I cannot range myself among those adulators who have
      accused the persons about him with having dissuaded him from peace. Did he
      not say at St. Helena, in speaking of the negotiations at Chatillon, "A
      thunderbolt alone could have saved us: to treat, to conclude, was to yield
      foolishly to the enemy." These words forcibly portray Napoleon's
      character. It must also be borne in mind how much he was captivated by the
      immortality of the great names which history has bequeathed to our
      admiration, and which are perpetuated from generation to generation.
      Napoleon was resolved that his name should re-echo in ages to come, from
      the palace to the cottage. To live without fame appeared to him an
      anticipated death. If, however, in this thirst for glory, not for
      notoriety, he conceived the wish to surpass Alexander and Caesar, he never
      desired the renown of Erostratus, and I will say again what I have said
      before, that if he committed actions to be condemned, it was because he
      considered them as steps which helped him to place himself on the summit
      of immortality on which he wished to place his name. Witness what he wrote
      to his brother Jerome, "Better never, to have lived than to live without
      glory;" witness also what he wrote later to his brother Louis, "It is
      better to die as a King than to live as a Prince." How often in the days
      of my intimacy with Bonaparte has he not said to me, "Who knows the names
      of those kings who have passed from the thrones on which chance or birth
      seated them? They lived and died unnoticed. The learned, perhaps, may find
      them mentioned in old archives, and a medal or a coin dug from the earth
      may reveal to antiquarians the existence of a sovereign of whom they had
      never before heard. But, on the contrary, when we hear the names of Cyrus,
      Alexander, Caesar, Mahomet, Charlemagne, Henry IV., and Louis XIV., we are
      immediately among our intimate acquaintance." I must add, that when
      Napoleon thus spoke to me in the gardens of Malmaison he only repeated
      what had often fallen from him in his youth, for his character and his
      ideas never varied; the change was in the objects to which they were
      applied.
    
To properly assess Napoleon's actions during the peace negotiations at the Chatillon conferences, it's important to consider his innate qualities and the beliefs that shaped him from an early age. If you closely and fairly examine the final negotiations of his declining reign, it becomes clear that his downfall stemmed from his character. I don't align with those who have blamed his advisors for steering him away from peace. Didn't he say at St. Helena, while discussing the negotiations at Chatillon, "Only a thunderbolt could have saved us: to negotiate, to finalize, was to foolishly submit to the enemy"? These words vividly capture Napoleon's character. We also need to remember how much he admired the lasting legacy of great figures in history, names that are passed down through generations. Napoleon was determined that his name would be remembered for ages, from the grandest palaces to the simplest homes. Living without fame felt to him like dying prematurely. While he sought glory, not notoriety, he aspired to surpass Alexander and Caesar, but he never wanted to be remembered like Erostratus. I’ll reiterate my earlier point: if he committed actions that deserve condemnation, it was because he viewed them as steps toward achieving the immortality he craved for his name. Consider what he wrote to his brother Jerome: "Better never to have lived than to live without glory." He also told his brother Louis, "It is better to die as a King than to live as a Prince." How many times during my close friendship with Bonaparte did he say to me, "Who remembers the names of those kings who lost their thrones due to chance or birth? They lived and died without notice. Scholars might find their names in ancient records, and a medal or coin dug up might hint at a monarch no one has ever known. In contrast, when we hear the names of Cyrus, Alexander, Caesar, Mahomet, Charlemagne, Henry IV, and Louis XIV, they feel like familiar friends." I should add that when Napoleon spoke to me in the gardens of Malmaison, he was just echoing what he often said in his youth, as his character and beliefs never changed; only the focus of those beliefs evolved.







      From his boyhood Napoleon was fond of reading the history of the great men
      of antiquity; and what he chiefly sought to discover was the means by
      which those men had become great. He remarked that military glory secures
      more extended fame than the arts of peace and the noble efforts which
      contribute to the happiness of mankind. History informs us that great
      military talent and victory often give the power, which, in its turn,
      procures the means of gratifying ambition. Napoleon was always persuaded
      that that power was essential to him, in order to bend men to his will,
      and to stifle all discussions on his conduct. It was his established
      principle never to sign a disadvantageous peace. To him a tarnished crown
      was no longer a crown. He said one day to M. de Caulaincourt, who was
      pressing him to consent to sacrifices, "Courage may defend a crown, but
      infamy never." In all the last acts of Napoleon's career I can retrace the
      impress of his character, as I had often recognised in the great actions
      of the Emperor the execution of a thought conceived by the
      General-in-Chief of the Army of Italy.
    
From his childhood, Napoleon loved reading about the great figures of ancient history, and what he mainly wanted to find out was how those figures achieved greatness. He noticed that military glory brings broader fame than the pursuits of peace and the noble efforts aimed at making humanity happy. History shows us that exceptional military skill and victory often lead to power, which then provides the means to satisfy ambition. Napoleon was always convinced that having power was crucial for him to control others and silence any debates about his actions. He firmly believed in never signing a disadvantageous peace. For him, a tarnished crown was no crown at all. One day, he told M. de Caulaincourt, who was urging him to agree to compromises, "Courage can defend a crown, but infamy cannot." In all the final stages of Napoleon's career, I can see traces of his character, just as I often recognized in the Emperor's great actions the realization of a thought conceived by the General-in-Chief of the Army of Italy.







      On the opening of the Congress the Duke of Vicenza, convinced that he
      could no longer count on the natural limits of France promised at
      Frankfort by the Allies, demanded new powers. Those limits were doubtless
      the result of reasonable concessions, and they had been granted even after
      the battle of Leipsic; but it was now necessary that Napoleon's Minister
      should show himself ready to make further concessions if he wished to be
      allowed to negotiate. The Congress was opened on the 5th of February, and
      on the 7th the Plenipotentiaries of the Allied powers declared themselves
      categorically. They inserted in the protocol that after the successes
      which had favoured their armies they insisted on France being restored to
      her old limits, such as they were during the monarchy before the
      Revolution; and that she should renounce all direct influence beyond her
      future limits.
    
At the start of the Congress, the Duke of Vicenza, realizing that he could no longer rely on the natural borders of France promised at Frankfort by the Allies, asked for new powers. Those borders were certainly the outcome of reasonable compromises, and they had been established even after the Battle of Leipzig; however, it was now essential for Napoleon's Minister to demonstrate a willingness to make further concessions if he wanted to be allowed to negotiate. The Congress began on February 5th, and on the 7th, the representatives of the Allied powers made their position clear. They stated in the protocol that after their armies' successful campaigns, they insisted on restoring France to her previous borders, as they were during the monarchy before the Revolution, and that she should give up any direct influence beyond her future borders.







      This proposition appeared so extraordinary to M. de Caulaincourt that he
      requested the sitting might be suspended, since the conditions departed
      too far from his instructions to enable him to give an immediate answer.
      The Plenipotentiaries of the Allied powers acceded to his request, and the
      continuation of the sitting was postponed till eight in the evening. When
      it was resumed the Duke of Vicenza renewed his promise to make the
      greatest sacrifices for the attainment of peace. He added that the amount
      of the sacrifices necessarily depended on the amount of the compensations,
      and that he could not determine on any concession or compensation without
      being made acquainted with the whole. He wished to have a general plan of
      the views of the Allies, and he requested that their Plenipotentiaries
      would explain themselves decidedly respecting the number and description
      of the sacrifices and compensations to be demanded. It must be
      acknowledged that the Duke of Vicenza perfectly fulfilled the views of the
      Emperor in thus protracting and gaining time by subtle subterfuges, for
      all that he suggested had already been done.
    
This proposal seemed so extraordinary to M. de Caulaincourt that he asked for the meeting to be paused, as the conditions were too far from his instructions for him to give an immediate answer. The representatives of the Allied powers agreed to his request, and the meeting was postponed until eight in the evening. When it resumed, the Duke of Vicenza repeated his promise to make significant sacrifices for achieving peace. He added that the extent of the sacrifices depended on the compensations, and he couldn’t agree to any concession or compensation without being fully informed. He wanted a comprehensive plan of the Allies' objectives and requested that their representatives clearly outline the number and type of sacrifices and compensations needed. It must be acknowledged that the Duke of Vicenza effectively fulfilled the Emperor's goals by prolonging discussions and buying time with clever tricks, as everything he suggested had already been addressed.







      On the day after this sitting some advantages gained by the Allies, who
      took Chatillon-sur-Marne and Troves, induced Napoleon to direct
      Caulaincourt to declare to the Congress that if an armistice were
      immediately agreed on he was ready to consent to France being restored to
      her old limits. By securing this armistice Napoleon hoped that happy
      chances might arise, and that intrigues might be set on foot; but the
      Allies would not listen to any such proposition.
    
On the day after this meeting, some gains made by the Allies, who captured Chatillon-sur-Marne and Troves, led Napoleon to instruct Caulaincourt to tell the Congress that if an armistice was agreed upon immediately, he was willing to accept restoring France to her former borders. By securing this armistice, Napoleon hoped that fortunate opportunities might emerge and that some scheming could be set in motion; however, the Allies were unwilling to consider any such proposal.







      At the sitting of the 10th of March the Duke of Vicenza inserted in the
      protocol that the last courier he had received had been arrested and
      detained a considerable time by several Russian general officers, who had
      obliged him to deliver up his despatches, which had not been returned to
      him till thirty-six hours after at Chaumont. Caulaincourt justly
      complained of this infraction of the law of nations and established usage,
      which, he said, was the sole cause of the delay in bringing the
      negotiations to a conclusion. After this complaint he communicated to the
      Congress the ostensible instructions of Napoleon, in which he authorised
      his Minister to accede to the demands of the Allies. But in making this
      communication M. de Caulaincourt took care not to explain the private and
      secret instructions he had also received. The Allies rejected the
      armistice because it would have checked their victorious advance; but they
      consented to sign the definitive peace, which of all things was what the
      Emperor did not wish.
    
During the meeting on March 10th, the Duke of Vicenza noted in the record that the last courier he received had been stopped and held for quite a while by several Russian generals, who forced him to hand over his dispatches. These were only returned to him thirty-six hours later in Chaumont. Caulaincourt rightly complained about this violation of international law and established practices, which he stated was the main reason for the delay in finalizing the negotiations. After this complaint, he informed the Congress about Napoleon’s official instructions, which authorized his Minister to agree to the Allies' demands. However, while making this communication, M. de Caulaincourt was careful not to reveal the private and secret instructions he had also received. The Allies rejected the armistice because it would have hindered their victorious advance; however, they agreed to sign the final peace, which was exactly what the Emperor did not want.







      Napoleon at length determined to make sacrifices, and the Duke of Vicenza
      submitted new propositions to the Congress. The Allies replied, in the
      same sitting, that these propositions contained no distinct and explicit
      declaration on the project presented by them on the 17th of February;
      that, having on the 28th of the same month, demanded a decisive answer
      within the term of ten days, they were about to break up the negotiations
      Caulaincourt then declared verbally:
    
Napoleon eventually decided to make concessions, and the Duke of Vicenza presented new proposals to the Congress. The Allies responded during that same meeting, stating that these proposals did not include a clear and explicit response to the plan they had submitted on February 17th. They noted that, having requested a definitive answer within ten days on February 28th, they were preparing to end the negotiations. Caulaincourt then stated verbally:







      1st. That the Emperor Napoleon was ready to renounce all pretension or
      influence whatever in countries beyond the boundaries of France.
    
1st. That Emperor Napoleon was willing to give up all claims or influence in countries outside the borders of France.







      2d. To recognise the independence of Spain, Italy, Switzerland, Germany,
      and Holland, and that as to England, France would make such concessions as
      might be deemed necessary in consideration of a reasonable equivalent.
    
2d. To acknowledge the independence of Spain, Italy, Switzerland, Germany, and the Netherlands, and that regarding England, France would make any concessions that might be considered necessary in exchange for a fair equivalent.







      Upon this the sitting was immediately broken up without a reply. It must
      be remarked that this singular declaration was verbal, and consequently
      not binding, and that the limits of France were mentioned without being
      specified. It cannot be doubted that Napoleon meant the limits conceded at
      Frankfort, to which he was well convinced the Allies would not consent,
      for circumstances were now changed. Besides, what could be meant by the
      reasonable equivalent from England? Is it astonishing that this obscurity
      and vagueness should have banished all confidence on the part of the
      Plenipotentiaries of the Allied powers? Three days after the sitting of
      the 10th of March they declared they could not even enter into a
      discussion of the verbal protocol of the French Minister. They requested
      that M. de Caulaincourt would declare whether he would accept or reject
      the project of a treaty presented by the Allied Sovereigns, or offer a
      counter-project.
    
The meeting was quickly adjourned without a response. It's important to note that this unusual statement was made verbally, so it wasn't legally binding, and the boundaries of France were mentioned without any specifics. There’s no doubt that Napoleon was referring to the limits set at Frankfort, which he knew the Allies wouldn't agree to, as the situation had changed. Moreover, what was meant by a reasonable equivalent from England? It's not surprising that this confusion and lack of clarity caused the representatives of the Allied powers to lose all trust. Three days after the meeting on March 10, they stated they couldn't even discuss the verbal protocol from the French Minister. They asked M. de Caulaincourt to clarify whether he would accept or reject the treaty proposal from the Allied Sovereigns or suggest an alternative.







      The Duke of Vicenza, who was still prohibited, by secret instructions from
      coming to any conclusion on the proposed basis, inserted in the protocol
      of the sitting of the 13th of March a very ambiguous note. The
      Plenipotentiaries of the Allies; in their reply, insisted upon receiving
      another declaration from the French Plenipotentiary, which should contain
      an acceptance or refusal of their project of a treaty presented in the
      conference of the 7th of February, or a counter-project. After much
      discussion Caulaincourt agreed to draw up a counter-project, which he
      presented on the 15th, under the following title: "Project of a definitive
      Treaty between France and the Allies." In this extraordinary project,
      presented after so much delay, M. de Caulaincourt, to the great
      astonishment of the Allies, departed in no respect from the declarations
      of the 10th of March. He replied again to the ultimatum of the Allies, or
      what he wished to regard as such, by defending a multitude of petty
      interests, which were of no importance in so great a contest; but in
      general the conditions seemed rather those of a conqueror dictating to his
      enemies than of a man overwhelmed by misfortune: As may readily be
      imagined, they were, for the most part, received with derision by the
      Allies.
    
The Duke of Vicenza, who was still barred by secret instructions from reaching any agreement on the proposed terms, included a very vague note in the protocol of the meeting on March 13th. The Allies' Plenipotentiaries insisted on getting another statement from the French Plenipotentiary, which should either accept or reject their treaty proposal presented at the conference on February 7th, or offer a counter-proposal. After extensive discussions, Caulaincourt agreed to draft a counter-proposal, which he submitted on the 15th, titled: "Project of a Definitive Treaty between France and the Allies." In this unusual proposal, submitted after much delay, M. de Caulaincourt, to the Allies' great surprise, did not deviate at all from the declarations made on March 10th. He responded again to the Allies' ultimatum, or what he wanted to consider as such, by defending a number of minor interests that were insignificant in such a large conflict; overall, the conditions seemed more like those of a conqueror dictating terms to his enemies rather than someone overwhelmed by disaster. As one might expect, most of them were met with ridicule by the Allies.







      Everything tends to prove that the French Plenipotentiary had received no
      positive instructions from the 5th of February, and that, after all the
      delay which Napoleon constantly created, Caulaincourt never had it in his
      power to answer, categorically, the propositions of the Allies. Napoleon
      never intended to make peace at Chatillon on the terms proposed. He always
      hoped that some fortunate event would enable him to obtain more favourable
      conditions.
    
Everything suggests that the French representative didn’t receive any clear instructions from February 5th, and that, despite all the delays caused by Napoleon, Caulaincourt was never able to directly respond to the Allies' proposals. Napoleon never meant to settle for peace at Chatillon under the terms suggested. He always hoped that some fortunate event would allow him to secure better conditions.







      On the 18th of March, that is to say, three days after the presentation of
      this project of a treaty, the Plenipotentiaries of the Allies recorded in
      the protocol their reasons for rejecting the extraordinary project of the
      French Minister. For my part, I was convinced, for the reasons I have
      mentioned, that the Emperor would never agree to sign the conditions
      proposed in the ultimatum of the Allies, dated the 13th of March, and I
      remember having expressed that opinion to M. de Talleyrand. I saw him on
      the 14th, and found him engaged in perusing some intelligence he had just
      received from the Duke of Vicenza, announcing, as beyond all doubt, the
      early signature of peace. Caulaincourt had received orders to come to a
      conclusion. Napoleon, he said, had given him a carte blanche to save the
      capital, and avoid a battle, by which the last resources of the nation
      would be endangered. This seemed pretty positive, to be sure; but even
      this assurance did not, for a moment, alter my opinion. The better to
      convince me, M. de Talleyrand gave me Caulaincourt's letter to read. After
      reading it I confidently said, "He will never sign the conditions." M. de
      Talleyrand could not help thinking me very obstinate in my opinion, for he
      judged of what the Emperor would do by his situation, while I judged by
      his character. I told M. de Talleyrand that Caulaincourt might have
      received written orders to sign; for the sake of showing them to the
      Plenipotentiaries of the Allies, but that I had no doubt he had been
      instructed to postpone coming to a conclusion, and to wait for final
      orders. I added, that I saw no reason to change my opinion, and that I
      continued to regard the breaking up of the Congress as nearer than
      appearances seemed to indicate. Accordingly, three days afterwards, the
      Allies grew tired of the delay and the conferences were broken up. Thus
      Napoleon sacrificed everything rather than his glory. He fell from a great
      height, but he never, by his signature, consented to any dismemberment of
      France.
    
On March 18, just three days after the proposal of this treaty, the representatives of the Allies noted in the protocol their reasons for rejecting the extraordinary proposal from the French Minister. Personally, I was convinced, for the reasons I've mentioned, that the Emperor would never agree to the conditions offered in the Allies' ultimatum from March 13. I recall expressing that opinion to M. de Talleyrand. I saw him on the 14th, and he was busy reading some news he had just received from the Duke of Vicenza, which assured that peace would be signed soon. Caulaincourt had been ordered to reach a conclusion. He said that Napoleon had given him a blank check to save the capital and avoid a battle that would risk the last resources of the nation. This seemed quite certain, but even this assurance did not change my mind for a moment. To convince me further, M. de Talleyrand handed me Caulaincourt's letter to read. After reading it, I confidently stated, "He will never sign the conditions." M. de Talleyrand probably thought I was being very stubborn in my opinion, as he assessed what the Emperor would do based on his situation, while I based my judgment on his character. I told M. de Talleyrand that Caulaincourt might have received written orders to sign to show the Allies’ representatives, but I had no doubt he was instructed to hold off on making a decision and wait for final orders. I added that I saw no reason to change my mind and I still believed that the collapse of the Congress was closer than it appeared. Sure enough, three days later, the Allies grew impatient with the delay and the conferences ended. Thus, Napoleon sacrificed everything rather than his glory. He fell from a great height, but he never, with his signature, agreed to any dismemberment of France.







      The Plenipotentiaries of the Allies, convinced that these renewed
      difficulties and demands had no other object but to gain time, stated that
      the Allied powers, faithful to their principles, and in conformity with
      their previous declarations, regarded the negotiations at Chatillon as
      terminated by the French Government. This rupture of the conferences took
      place on the 19th of March, six days after the presentation of the
      ultimatum of the Allied powers. The issue of these long discussions was
      thus left to be decided by the chances of war, which were not very
      favourable to the man who boldly contended against armed Europe. The
      successes of the Allies during the conferences at Chatillon had opened to
      their view the road to Paris, while Napoleon shrunk from the necessity of
      signing his own disgrace. In these circumstances was to be found the sole
      cause of his ruin, and he might have said, "Tout est perdu, fors la
      gloire." His glory is immortal.
    
The representatives of the Allies, believing that these renewed challenges and demands were just a way to buy time, declared that the Allied powers, true to their principles and in line with their earlier statements, considered the negotiations at Chatillon as over due to the actions of the French Government. This breakdown of talks occurred on March 19, six days after the Allied powers presented their ultimatum. The outcome of these lengthy discussions was left to the unpredictability of war, which was not very favorable for someone who boldly opposed all of Europe’s armed forces. The Allies' successes during the Chatillon conferences had opened the route to Paris for them, while Napoleon hesitated to sign his own disgrace. It was in this situation that the root of his downfall was found, and he could have said, "All is lost, except for glory." His glory is eternal.






 —[The conviviality and harmony that reigned between the Ministers
   made the society and Intercourse at Chatillon most agreeable. The
   diplomatists dined alternately with each other; M. de Caulaincourt
   liberally passing for all the Ministers, through the French advanced
   posts, convoys of all the good cheer in epicurean wises, etc., that
   Paris could afford; nor was female society wanting to complete the
   charm and banish ennui from the Chatillon Congress, which I am sure
   will be long recollected with sensations of pleasure by all the
   Plenipotentiaries there engaged (Memoirs of Lord Burghersh).]— 
—[The friendliness and harmony among the Ministers made the gatherings at Chatillon really enjoyable. The diplomats took turns dining with each other, with M. de Caulaincourt generously bringing all the fine food and drinks that Paris had to offer through the French front lines; and there was no shortage of female company to enhance the experience and keep boredom away at the Chatillon Congress, which I’m sure all the Plenipotentiaries will remember fondly for a long time (Memoirs of Lord Burghersh).]—








 


 




















      CHAPTER XXXIII.
    



      1814
    
1814


   Curious conversation between General Reynier and the Emperor
   Alexander—Napoleon repulses the Prussians—The Russians at
   Fontainebleau—Battle of Brienne—Sketch of the campaign of France—
   Supper after the battle of Champ Aubert—Intelligence of the arrival
   of the Duc d'Angouleme and the Comte d'Artois in France—The battle
   of the ravens and the eagle—Battle of Craonne—Departure of the
   Pope and the Spanish Princes—Capture of a convoy—Macdonald at the
   Emperor's headquarters—The inverted cipher.

   Curious conversation between General Reynier and the Emperor  
   Alexander—Napoleon pushes back the Prussians—The Russians at  
   Fontainebleau—Battle of Brienne—Overview of the campaign in France—  
   Dinner after the battle of Champ Aubert—News of the arrival  
   of the Duc d'Angouleme and the Comte d'Artois in France—The battle  
   of the ravens and the eagle—Battle of Craonne—Departure of the  
   Pope and the Spanish Princes—Capture of a convoy—Macdonald at the  
   Emperor's headquarters—The inverted cipher.







      I was always persuaded, and everything I have since seen has confirmed my
      opinion, that the Allies entering France had no design of restoring the
      House of Bourbon, or of imposing any Government whatever on the French
      people. They came to destroy and not to found. That which they wished to
      destroy from the commencement of their success was Napoleon's supremacy,
      in order to prevent the future invasions with which they believed Europe
      would still be constantly threatened. If, indeed, I had entertained any
      doubt on this subject it would have been banished by the account I heard
      of General Reynier's conversation with the Emperor Alexander. That
      General, who was made prisoner at Leipsic, was exchanged, and returned to
      France. In the beginning of February 1814 he passed through Troves, where
      the Emperor Alexander then was. Reynier expressed a desire to be allowed
      to pay his respects to the Emperor, and to thank him for having restored
      him to liberty. He was received with that affability of manner which was
      sometimes affected by the Russian monarch.
    
I have always believed, and everything I've seen since has reinforced my view, that the Allies entering France had no intention of restoring the House of Bourbon or of imposing any government on the French people. They came to destroy, not to establish. From the very beginning of their success, their goal was to eliminate Napoleon's dominance to prevent future invasions that they felt would constantly threaten Europe. If I had ever doubted this, those doubts would have vanished after hearing about General Reynier's conversation with Emperor Alexander. The General, who was captured at Leipzig, was exchanged and returned to France. In early February 1814, he passed through Troyes, where Emperor Alexander was at the time. Reynier wanted to pay his respects to the Emperor and thank him for restoring his freedom. He was received with the kind of friendliness that the Russian monarch sometimes pretended to have.







      On his arrival at Paris General Reynier called at the Duc de Rovigo's,
      where I had dined that day, and where he still was when I arrived. He
      related in my hearing the conversation to which I have alluded, and stated
      that it had all the appearance of sincerity on the Emperor's part. Having
      asked Alexander whether he had any instructions for Napoleon, as the
      latter, on learning that he had seen his Majesty would not fail to ask him
      many questions, he replied that he had nothing particular to communicate
      to him. Alexander added that he was Napoleon's friend, but that he had,
      personally, much reason—to complain of his conduct; that the Allies
      would have nothing more to do with him; that they had no intention of
      forcing any Sovereign upon France; but that they would no longer
      acknowledge Napoleon as Emperor of the French. "For my part," said
      Alexander, "I can no longer place any confidence in him. He has deceived
      me too often." In reply to this Reynier made some remarks dictated by his
      attachment and fidelity to Bonaparte. He observed that Napoleon was
      acknowledged as Sovereign of France by every treaty. "But," added Reynier,
      "if you should persist in forcing him to resign the supreme power, whom
      will you put in his place?"—"Did you not choose him; why then can
      you not choose some one else to govern you? I repeat that we do not intend
      to force any one upon you but we will have no more to do with Napoleon."
    
When General Reynier arrived in Paris, he went to see the Duc de Rovigo, where I had just had dinner, and he was still there when I got there. He recounted the conversation I mentioned earlier, stating that the Emperor seemed genuinely sincere. After asking Alexander if he had any instructions for Napoleon—since Napoleon would definitely want to ask him a lot of questions upon hearing that he met with His Majesty—Alexander replied that he had nothing specific to share. He added that he considered himself a friend of Napoleon's, but personally, he had many reasons to complain about his actions. The Allies no longer wanted anything to do with him and had no intention of imposing any ruler on France; they simply would not recognize Napoleon as Emperor of the French anymore. "As for me," Alexander said, "I can no longer trust him. He has deceived me too many times." In response, Reynier expressed his loyalty to Bonaparte, noting that every treaty acknowledged Napoleon as the Sovereign of France. "But," Reynier added, "if you insist on forcing him to give up power, who will you put in his place?"—"Didn’t you choose him? Then why can’t you choose someone else to lead you? I repeat, we don’t intend to impose anyone on you, but we will have nothing more to do with Napoleon."







      Several Generals were then named; and after Reynier had explained the
      great difficulties which would oppose any such choice, Alexander
      interrupted him saying, "But, General, there is Bernadotte.' Has he not
      been voluntarily chosen Prince Royal of Sweden; may he not also be raised
      to the same rank in France? He is your countryman; surely then you may
      choose him, since the Swedes took him, though a foreigner." General
      Reynier, who was a man of firm character, started some objections, which I
      thought at the time well founded; and Alexander put an end to the
      conversation by saving, rather in a tone of dissatisfaction, "Well,
      General, the fate of arms will decide."
    
Several generals were mentioned, and after Reynier pointed out the significant challenges that would make any selection difficult, Alexander interrupted him, saying, "But, General, there’s Bernadotte. Hasn't he been voluntarily chosen Prince Royal of Sweden? Can’t he also be elevated to the same rank in France? He’s from your country; surely you can choose him since the Swedes accepted him, even though he’s a foreigner." General Reynier, a man of strong character, raised some objections that I thought were valid at the time, and Alexander ended the discussion by saying, rather dissatisfied, "Well, General, the outcome of battle will decide."







      The campaign of France forced Napoleon to adopt a kind of operations quite
      new to him. He had been accustomed to attack; but he was now obliged to
      stand on his defence, so that, instead of having to execute a previously
      conceived plan, as when, in the Cabinet of the Tuileries, he traced out to
      me the field of Marengo, he had now to determine his movements according
      to those of his numerous enemies. When the Emperor arrived at
      Chalons-sur-Marne the Prussian army was advancing by the road of Lorraine.
      He drove it back beyond St. Dizier. Meanwhile the Grand Austro-Russian
      army passed the Seine and the Yonne at Montereau, and even sent forward a
      corps which advanced as far as Fontainebleau. Napoleon then made a
      movement to the right in order to drive back the troops which threatened
      to march on Paris, and by a curious chance he came up with the troops in
      the very place where he passed the boyish years in which he cherished what
      then seemed wild and fabulous dreams of his future fate. What thoughts and
      recollections must have crowded on his mind when he found himself an
      Emperor and a King, at the head of a yet powerful army, in the chateau of
      the Comte de Brienne, to whom he had so often paid his homage! It was at
      Brienne that he had said to me, thirty-four years before, "I will do these
      Frenchman all the harm I can." Since then he had certainly changed his
      mind; but it might be said that fate persisted in forcing the man to
      realise the design of the boy in spite of himself. No sooner had Napoleon
      revisited Brienne as a conqueror than he was repulsed and hurried to his
      fall, which became every moment more certain.
    
The campaign in France forced Napoleon to adopt a style of operations that was completely new to him. He was used to attacking, but now he had to defend himself, so instead of following a pre-planned strategy, like when he laid out the field of Marengo in the Cabinet of the Tuileries, he had to adjust his movements based on those of his many enemies. When the Emperor arrived at Chalons-sur-Marne, the Prussian army was advancing via the road through Lorraine. He pushed them back beyond St. Dizier. In the meantime, the Grand Austro-Russian army crossed the Seine and the Yonne at Montereau, even sending a corps forward that reached as far as Fontainebleau. Napoleon then moved to the right to push back the troops that were threatening to march on Paris, and by a strange coincidence, he encountered them exactly where he spent his childhood, nurturing what then seemed like wild and fabulous dreams about his future. What thoughts and memories must have flooded his mind when he found himself an Emperor and a King, leading a still-powerful army, in the chateau of the Comte de Brienne, to whom he had often paid his respects! It was at Brienne that, thirty-four years earlier, he had told me, “I will do these Frenchmen all the harm I can.” He had certainly changed his mind since then, but it could be said that fate continued to force him to fulfill the ambitions of his youth, despite himself. No sooner had Napoleon returned to Brienne as a conqueror than he was pushed back and rushed toward his inevitable downfall, which became ever more certain with each passing moment.







      I shall not enter into any details of the campaign of France, because the
      description of battles forms no part of my plan. Still, I think it
      indispensable briefly to describe Napoleon's miraculous activity from the
      time of his leaving Paris to the entrance of the Allies into the capital.
      Few successful campaigns have enabled our Generals and the French army to
      reap so much glory as they gained during this great reverse of fortune.
      For it is possible to triumph without honour, and to fall with glory. The
      chances of the war were not doubtful, but certainly the numerous hosts of
      the Allies could never have anticipated so long and brilliant a
      resistance. The theatre of the military operations soon approached so near
      to Paris that the general eagerness for news from the army was speedily
      satisfied, and when any advantage was gained by the Emperor his partisans
      saw the enemy already repulsed from the French territory. I was not for a
      moment deceived by these illusions, as I well knew the determination and
      the resources of the Allied sovereigns. Besides, events were so rapid and
      various in this war of extermination that the guns of the Invalides
      announcing a victory were sometimes immediately followed by the distant
      rolling of artillery, denoting the enemy's near approach to the capital.
    
I won’t go into details about the campaign in France because describing battles isn’t part of my plan. However, I do think it’s essential to briefly describe Napoleon's incredible activity from the time he left Paris until the Allies entered the capital. Few successful campaigns allowed our Generals and the French army to gain as much glory as they did during this significant reversal of fortune. It’s possible to win without honor and to fall with glory. The war's outcome wasn’t in doubt, but the many forces of the Allies could never have expected such long and impressive resistance. The area of military operations got so close to Paris that the general eagerness for news from the army was quickly satisfied, and when the Emperor achieved any advantage, his supporters believed the enemy had already been driven out of French territory. I wasn’t fooled by these illusions for a second, as I knew the resolve and resources of the Allied leaders. Moreover, events were happening so rapidly and in such variety during this war of annihilation that the cannon fire from the Invalides announcing a victory was sometimes immediately followed by the distant rumble of artillery, signaling the enemy was close to the capital.







      The Emperor left Paris on the 25th of January, at which time the Emperors
      of Russia and Austria and the King of Prussia were assembled at Langres.
      Napoleon rejoined his Guard at Vitry-le-Francais. On the second day after
      his departure he drove before him the Prussian army, which he had forced
      to evacuate St. Dizier. Two days after this the battle of Brienne was
      fought, and on the 1st of February between 70,000 and 80,000 French and
      Allied troops stood face to face. On this occasion the commanders on both
      sides were exposed to personal danger, for Napoleon had a horse killed
      under him, and a Cossack fell dead by the side of Marshal Blücher.
    
The Emperor left Paris on January 25th, when the Emperors of Russia and Austria and the King of Prussia were gathered at Langres. Napoleon rejoined his Guard at Vitry-le-Français. Two days after his departure, he drove the Prussian army ahead of him, which he had forced to leave St. Dizier. Two days later, the battle of Brienne was fought, and on February 1st, around 70,000 to 80,000 French and Allied troops faced off. On this occasion, the commanders on both sides were in personal danger; Napoleon had a horse shot out from under him, and a Cossack fell dead next to Marshal Blücher.







      A few days after this battle Napoleon entered Troves, where he stayed but
      a short time, and then advanced to Champaubert. At the latter place was
      fought the battle which hears its name. The Russians were defeated,
      General Alsufieff was made prisoner, and 2000 men and 30 guns fell into
      the hands of the French. After this battle the Emperor was under such a
      delusion as to his situation that while supping with Berthier, Marmont,
      and his prisoner, General Alsufieff, the Emperor said, "Another such
      victory as this, gentlemen, and I shall be on the Vistula."
    
A few days after this battle, Napoleon entered Troves, where he stayed only briefly, and then moved on to Champaubert. It was at Champaubert that the battle of the same name took place. The Russians were defeated, General Alsufieff was captured, and 2,000 men and 30 cannons fell into French hands. After this battle, the Emperor became so misled about his situation that while having dinner with Berthier, Marmont, and his prisoner, General Alsufieff, he said, "Another victory like this, gentlemen, and I’ll be at the Vistula."







      Finding that no one replied, and reading in the countenances of his
      Marshals that they did not share his hopes, "I see how it is," he added,
      "every one is growing tired of war; there is no more enthusiasm. The
      sacred fire is extinct." Then rising from the table, and stepping up to
      General Drouot, with the marked intention of paying him a compliment which
      should at the same time convey a censure on the Marshals, "General," said
      he, patting him on the shoulder, "we only want a hundred men like you, and
      we should succeed." Drouot replied, with great presence of mind and
      modesty, "Rather say a hundred thousand, Sire." This anecdote was related
      to me by the two principal persons who were present on the occasion.
    
Finding that no one replied, and seeing on the faces of his Marshals that they didn’t share his hopes, “I see how it is,” he said, “everyone is getting tired of war; there’s no more enthusiasm. The sacred fire is out.” Then getting up from the table and approaching General Drouot, with the clear intention of giving him a compliment while also criticizing the Marshals, “General,” he said, patting him on the shoulder, “we only need a hundred men like you, and we would succeed.” Drouot replied, with great composure and humility, “Better say a hundred thousand, Sire.” This story was told to me by the two main people who were there at the time.







      Napoleon soon began to have other subjects of disquietude besides the fate
      of battles. He was aware that since the beginning of February the Duc
      d'Angouleme had arrived at St. Jean de Luz, whence he had addressed a
      proclamation to the French armies in the name of his uncle, Louis XVIII.;
      and he speedily heard of the Comte d'Artois' arrival at Yesoul, on the
      21st of February, which place he did not leave until the 16th of March
      following.
    
Napoleon soon started to worry about more than just the outcome of battles. He knew that since early February, the Duc d'Angouleme had arrived at St. Jean de Luz, where he issued a proclamation to the French armies on behalf of his uncle, Louis XVIII. He quickly learned about the Comte d'Artois' arrival at Yesoul on February 21, which was the place he stayed until March 16.







      Meanwhile hostilities were maintained with increased vigor over a vast
      line of operations. How much useless glory did not our soldiers gain in
      these conflicts! In spite of prodigies of valour the enemy's masses
      advanced, and gradually concentrated, so that this war might be compared
      to the battles of the ravens and the eagle in the Alps. The eagle slays
      hundreds of his assailants—every blow of his beak is the death of an
      enemy, but still the vultures return to the charge, and press upon the
      eagle until they destroy him.
    
Meanwhile, hostilities continued with even more intensity across a wide front. How much unnecessary glory did our soldiers earn in these battles! Despite incredible acts of bravery, the enemy's forces pushed forward and gradually gathered strength, making this war similar to the fights between ravens and the eagle in the Alps. The eagle takes out hundreds of its attackers—each strike of its beak kills an enemy, yet the vultures keep coming back and press on the eagle until it is defeated.







      As the month of February drew to its close the Allies were in retreat on
      several points, but their retreat was not a rout. After experiencing
      reverses they fell back without disorder, and retired behind the Aube,
      where they rallied and obtained numerous reinforcements, which daily
      arrived, and which soon enabled them to resume the offensive.
    
As February came to an end, the Allies were pulling back in several areas, but their retreat wasn't chaotic. After facing some setbacks, they fell back in an organized manner and retreated behind the Aube, where they regrouped and received many reinforcements that arrived daily, quickly allowing them to take the offensive again.







      Still Napoleon continued astonishing Europe, leagued as it was against
      him. At Craonne, on the 7th of March, he destroyed Blücher's corps in a
      severe action, but the victory was attended by great loss to the
      conqueror. Marshal Victor was seriously wounded, as well as Generals
      Grouchy and La Ferriere.
    
Still, Napoleon amazed Europe, even though it was united against him. At Craonne, on March 7th, he defeated Blücher's corps in a fierce battle, but the victory came at a heavy cost for the conqueror. Marshal Victor was seriously injured, along with Generals Grouchy and La Ferriere.







      While Napoleon was resisting the numerous enemies assembled to destroy him
      it might be said that he was also his own enemy, either from false
      calculation or from negligence with respect to his illustrious prisoners,
      who, on his departure from Paris, had not yet been sent to their States.
      The Pope was then at Fontainebleau, and the Princes of Spain at Valencay.
      The Pope, however, was the first to be allowed to depart. Surely Bonaparte
      could never have thought of the service which the Pope might have rendered
      him at Rome, into which Murat's troops would never have dared to march had
      his Holiness been present there. With regard to the Spanish Princes
      Napoleon must have been greatly blinded by confidence in his fortune to
      have so long believed it possible to retain in France those useless
      trophies of defeated pretensions. It was, besides, so easy to get rid of
      the exiles of Valencay by sending them back to the place from whence they
      had been brought! It was so natural to recall with all speed the troops
      from the south when our armies in Germany began to be repulsed on the
      Rhine and even driven into France! With the aid of these veteran troops
      Napoleon and his genius might have again turned the scale of fortune. But
      Napoleon reckoned on the nation, and he was wrong, for the nation was
      tired of him. His cause had ceased to be the cause of France.
    
While Napoleon was fighting against the many enemies gathered to take him down, it could be said that he was also his own worst enemy, either due to miscalculations or negligence regarding his notable prisoners, who had not yet been sent back to their home countries when he left Paris. The Pope was at Fontainebleau, and the Spanish Princes were at Valencay. The Pope was the first to be allowed to leave, but surely Bonaparte never considered the help the Pope could have provided him in Rome, a place where Murat's troops would never have dared to enter if his Holiness had been there. As for the Spanish Princes, Napoleon must have been overly confident in his luck to believe for so long that he could keep those pointless trophies of defeated claims in France. It would have been so easy to send the exiles from Valencay back to where they came from! It was only natural to quickly recall the troops from the south when our forces in Germany started to get pushed back on the Rhine and even into France! With the support of these experienced soldiers, Napoleon and his strategy might have changed the tide of luck again. But Napoleon relied on the nation, and he was mistaken, for the country was worn out by him. His cause was no longer the cause of France.







      The latter days of March were filled up by a series of calamities to
      Napoleon. On the 23d the rear-guard of the French army suffered
      considerable loss. To hear of attacks on his rear-guard must indeed have
      been mortifying to Napoleon, whose advanced guards had been so long
      accustomed to open the path of victory! Prince Schwartzenberg soon passed
      the Aube and marched upon Vitry and Chalons. Napoleon, counting on the
      possibility of defending Paris, threw himself, with the velocity of the
      eagle, on Schwartzenberg's rear by passing by Doulevant and Bar- sur-Aube.
      He pushed forward his advanced guards to Chaumont, and there saw the
      Austrian army make a movement which he took to be a retreat; but it was no
      such thing. The movement was directed on Paris, while Blücher, who had
      re-occupied Chalons-sur-Maine, marched to meet Prince Schwartzenberg, and
      Napoleon, thinking to cut off their retreat, was himself cut off from the
      possibility of returning to Paris. Everything then depended on the defence
      of Paris, or, to speak more correctly, it seemed possible, by sacrificing
      the capital, to prolong for a few days the existence of the phantom of the
      Empire which was rapidly vanishing. On the 26th was fought the battle of
      Fere Champenoise, where, valour yielding to numbers, Marshals Marmont and
      Mortier were obliged to retire upon Sezanne after sustaining considerable
      loss.
    
The last days of March brought a series of disasters for Napoleon. On the 23rd, the rear guard of the French army suffered significant losses. Hearing about attacks on his rear guard must have been extremely frustrating for Napoleon, whose advance forces were so used to clearing the way for victory! Prince Schwartzenberg quickly crossed the Aube and advanced toward Vitry and Chalons. Napoleon, hoping to defend Paris, swiftly aimed for Schwartzenberg's rear by going around Doulevant and Bar-sur-Aube. He sent his advance guards to Chaumont and noticed what he thought was the Austrian army retreating; however, that wasn’t the case. Their movement was actually aimed at Paris, while Blücher, who had retaken Chalons-sur-Maine, moved to meet Prince Schwartzenberg. Napoleon, believing he could cut off their escape, found himself cut off from returning to Paris instead. Everything then rested on defending Paris, or more accurately, it seemed that by sacrificing the capital, he could extend the existence of the crumbling Empire for a few more days. On the 26th, the battle of Fere Champenoise took place, where, overwhelmed by numbers, Marshals Marmont and Mortier had to fall back to Sezanne after suffering significant losses.







      It was on the 26th of March, and I beg the reader to bear this date in
      mind, that Napoleon suffered a loss which, in the circumstances in which
      he stood, was irreparable. At the battle of Fere Champenoise the Allies
      captured a convoy consisting of nearly all the remaining ammunition and
      stores of the army, a vast quantity of arms, caissons, and equipage of all
      kinds. The whole became the prey of the Allies, who published a bulletin
      announcing this important capture. A copy of this order of the day fell
      into the hands of Marshal Macdonald, who thought that such news ought
      immediately to be communicated to the Emperor. He therefore repaired
      himself to the headquarters of Napoleon, who was then preparing to recover
      Vitre-le-Francais, which was occupied by the Prussians. The Marshal, with
      the view of dissuading the Emperor from what he considered a vain attempt,
      presented him with the bulletin.
    
It was on March 26th, and I ask the reader to keep this date in mind, that Napoleon faced a loss that, given his situation, was irreversible. At the battle of Fere Champenoise, the Allies captured a convoy containing nearly all the remaining ammunition and supplies of the army, along with a large amount of arms, caissons, and various equipment. Everything became the prize of the Allies, who published a bulletin announcing this significant capture. A copy of this order of the day ended up with Marshal Macdonald, who believed that such news should be immediately communicated to the Emperor. He therefore made his way to Napoleon's headquarters, where the Emperor was preparing to reclaim Vitre-le-Francais, currently held by the Prussians. The Marshal, aiming to dissuade the Emperor from what he considered a futile attempt, presented him with the bulletin.







      This was on the morning of the 27th: Napoleon would not believe the news.
      "No!" said he to the Marshal, "you are deceived, this cannot be true."
      Then perusing the bulletin with more attention. "Here," said he, "look
      yourself. This is the 27th, and the bulletin is dated the 29th. You see
      the thing is impossible. The bulletin is forged!" The Marshal, who had
      paid more attention to the news than to its date, was astounded. But
      having afterwards shown the bulletin to Drouot, that General said, "Alas!
      Marshal, the news is but too true. The error of the date is merely a
      misprint, the 9 is a 6 inverted!" On what trifles sometimes depend the
      most important events. An inverted cipher sufficed to flatter Bonaparte's
      illusion, or at least the illusions which he wished to maintain among his
      most distinguished lieutenants, and to delay the moment when they should
      discover that the loss they deplored was too certain. On that very day the
      Empress left Paris.
    
This was on the morning of the 27th: Napoleon couldn't believe the news.  
"No!" he said to the Marshal, "You're mistaken, this can't be true."  
Then, looking over the bulletin more closely, he said, "See for yourself. Today's the 27th, and the bulletin is dated the 29th. It's impossible. This bulletin is fake!" The Marshal, who had focused more on the news than the date, was shocked. But after he showed the bulletin to Drouot, that General said, "Sadly, Marshal, the news is all too real. The date error is just a typo; the 9 is a 6 flipped!" It's often on trivial details that the most significant events hinge. A flipped number was enough to sustain Bonaparte's illusion, or at least the illusions he wanted to keep among his top generals, and to postpone the moment they realized the loss they were mourning was unavoidable. On that very day, the Empress left Paris.








 


 




















      CHAPTER XXXIV.
    



      1814.
    
1814.


   The men of the Revolution and the men of the Empire—The Council of
   Regency—Departure of the Empress from Paris—Marmont and Mortier—
   Joseph's flight—Meeting at Marmont's hotel—Capitulation of Paris—
   Marmont's interview with the Emperor at Fontainebleau—Colonels
   Fabvier and Denys—The Royalist cavalcade—Meeting at the hotel of
   the Comte de Morfontaine—M. de Chateaubriand and his pamphlet—
   Deputation to the Emperor Alexander—Entrance of the Allied
   sovereigns into Paris—Alexander lodged in M. Talleyrand's hotel—
   Meetings held there—The Emperor Alexander's declaration—
   My appointment as Postmaster-General—Composition of the Provisional
   Government—Mistake respecting the conduct of the Emperor of
   Austria—Caulaincourt's mission from Napoleon—His interview with
   the Emperor Alexander—Alexander's address to the deputation of the
   Senate—M. de Caulaincourt ordered to quit the capital.

   The men of the Revolution and the men of the Empire—The Council of Regency—Departure of the Empress from Paris—Marmont and Mortier—Joseph's escape—Meeting at Marmont's hotel—Capitulation of Paris—Marmont's meeting with the Emperor at Fontainebleau—Colonels Fabvier and Denys—The Royalist parade—Meeting at the hotel of the Comte de Morfontaine—M. de Chateaubriand and his pamphlet—Delegation to Emperor Alexander—Arrival of the Allied powers in Paris—Alexander staying at M. Talleyrand's hotel—Meetings held there—Emperor Alexander's statement—My appointment as Postmaster-General—Formation of the Provisional Government—Misunderstanding regarding the actions of the Emperor of Austria—Caulaincourt's mission from Napoleon—His meeting with Emperor Alexander—Alexander's speech to the Senate delegation—M. de Caulaincourt ordered to leave the capital.







      The grandees of the Empire and the first subjects of Napoleon were divided
      into two classes totally distinct from each other. Among these patronised
      men were many who had been the first patrons of Bonaparte and had favoured
      his accession to Consular power. This class was composed of his old
      friends and former companions-in-arms. The others, who may be called the
      children of the Empire, did not carry back their thoughts to a period
      which they had not seen. They had never known anything but Napoleon and
      the Empire, beyond which the sphere of their ideas did not extend, while
      among Napoleon's old brothers-in-arms it was still remembered that there
      was once a country, a France, before they had helped to give it a master.
      To this class of men France was not confined to the narrow circle of the
      Imperial headquarters, but extended to the Rhine, the Alps, the Pyrenees,
      and the two oceans.
    
The high-ranking officials of the Empire and Napoleon's top followers were split into two completely different groups. Among these favored individuals were many who had been the earliest supporters of Bonaparte and had helped him rise to power as Consul. This group consisted of his old friends and former comrades-in-arms. The other group, which we can call the children of the Empire, never looked back to a time they hadn’t experienced. They had only known Napoleon and the Empire, and their understanding didn’t go beyond that. In contrast, Napoleon's old comrades still remembered that there was once a country, France, before they helped give it a ruler. For these men, France wasn't just limited to the small area of the Imperial headquarters; it included the Rhine, the Alps, the Pyrenees, and the two oceans.







      On the other hand, numbers of ardent and adventurous young men, full of
      enthusiasm for Bonaparte, had passed from the school to the camp. They
      were entirely opposed to Napoleon's downfall, because with his power would
      vanish those dreams of glory and fortune which had captivated their
      imaginations. These young men, who belonged to the class which I have
      denominated children of the Empire, were prepared to risk and commit
      everything to prolong the political life of their Emperor.
    
On the other hand, many passionate and daring young men, filled with excitement for Bonaparte, had moved from school to the battlefield. They were completely against Napoleon's defeat because losing his power would mean losing the dreams of glory and fortune that had enchanted them. These young men, who I refer to as the children of the Empire, were ready to risk everything to extend their Emperor's reign.







      The distinction I have drawn between what may be called the men of France
      and the men of the Empire was not confined to the army, but was equally
      marked among the high civil functionaries of the State. The old
      Republicans could not possibly regard Napoleon with the same eyes as those
      whose elevation dated only from Napoleon; and the members of assemblies
      anterior to the 18th Brumaire could not entertain the same ideas as those
      whose notions of national franchises and public rights were derived from
      their seats as auditors in the Council of State. I know not whether this
      distinction between the men of two different periods has been before
      pointed out, but it serves to explain the conduct of many persons of
      elevated rank during the events of 1814. With regard to myself, convinced
      as I was of the certainty of Napoleon's fall, I conceived that the first
      duty of every citizen was claimed by his country; and although I may incur
      censure, I candidly avow that Napoleon's treatment of me during the last
      four years of his power was not without some influence on my prompt
      submission to the Government which succeeded his. I, however, declare that
      this consideration was not the sole nor the most powerful motive of my
      conduct. Only those who were in Paris at the period of the capitulation
      can form an idea of the violence of party feeling which prevailed there
      both for and against Napoleon, but without the name of the Bourbons ever
      being pronounced. They were almost unknown to the new generation,
      forgotten by many of the old, and feared by the conventionalists; at that
      time they possessed only the frail support of the coteries of the Faubourg
      St. Germain, and some remains of the emigration. But as it is certain that
      the emigrants could offer only vain demonstrations and wishes in support
      of the old family of our Kings, they did little to assist the restoration
      of the Bourbons. Another thing equally certain is, that they alone, by
      their follies and absurd pretensions, brought about the return of
      Bonaparte and the second exile of Louis XVIII. in the following year.
    
The distinction I’ve made between what can be called the people of France and those of the Empire wasn't just visible in the military, but also among the high-ranking civil officials of the State. The old Republicans couldn’t see Napoleon the same way as those whose rise to power began only with him; and the members of assemblies before the 18th Brumaire couldn’t share the same views as those whose understanding of national rights and public liberties came from their roles as auditors in the Council of State. I'm not sure if this difference between the people of two eras has been noted before, but it helps explain the actions of many prominent individuals during the events of 1814. As for me, fully aware of Napoleon's inevitable downfall, I believed that the first duty of every citizen was to their country; and while I might face criticism, I honestly admit that Napoleon's treatment of me during the last four years of his rule influenced my quick acceptance of the new Government that followed. However, I declare that this reason was not the only, nor the most significant, motivation for my actions. Only those who were in Paris during the time of the capitulation can understand the intensity of the party feelings that existed for and against Napoleon, without the name of the Bourbons ever being mentioned. They were nearly unknown to the new generation, forgotten by many of the old, and feared by the conventionalists; at that time, they had only the weak support of the groups in Faubourg St. Germain, along with some remnants of the emigration. But it is clear that the emigrants could offer only empty gestures and wishes to support the old royal family, doing little to help restore the Bourbons. What is equally clear is that they, through their foolishness and ridiculous demands, caused the return of Bonaparte and the second exile of Louis XVIII. the following year.







      On the 28th of March was convoked an extraordinary Council of Regency, at
      which Maria Louisa presided. The question discussed was, whether the
      Empress should remain in Paris or proceed to Blois. Joseph Bonaparte
      strongly urged her departure, because a letter from the Emperor had
      directed that in case of Paris being threatened the Empress-Regent and all
      the Council of Regency should retire to Blois. The Arch-Chancellor and the
      majority of the Council were of the same opinion, but one of the most
      influential members of the Council observed to Joseph that the letter
      referred to had been written under circumstances very different from those
      then existing, and that it was important the Empress should remain in
      Paris, where she would, of course, obtain from the Emperor her father and
      the Allied sovereigns, more advantageous conditions than if she were fifty
      leagues from Paris. The adoption of this opinion would only have retarded
      for a few days a change which had become inevitable; nevertheless it might
      have given rise to great difficulties. It must be admitted that for the
      interests of Napoleon it was the wisest counsel that could be suggested.
      However, it was overruled by Joseph's advice.
    
On March 28th, an extraordinary Council of Regency was called, led by Maria Louisa. The main discussion was whether the Empress should stay in Paris or move to Blois. Joseph Bonaparte strongly pushed for her to leave because a letter from the Emperor stated that if Paris was threatened, the Empress-Regent and the entire Council of Regency should retreat to Blois. The Arch-Chancellor and most of the Council agreed, but one of the key members pointed out to Joseph that the letter was written under very different circumstances than those at hand, and it was crucial for the Empress to stay in Paris, where she could, of course, receive better terms from her father, the Emperor, and the Allied sovereigns than if she were fifty leagues away. Following this advice would have delayed an inevitable change by just a few days; however, it could have led to significant issues. It must be acknowledged that, for Napoleon’s interests, it was the smartest advice that could be proposed. Nonetheless, it was rejected in favor of Joseph's recommendation.







      M. de Talleyrand, as a member of the Council of Regency, also received the
      order to quit Paris on the 30th of March. At this period I was at his
      house every day. When I went to him that day I was told he had started.
      However I went up, and remained some time in his hotel with several of his
      friends who had met there. We soon saw him return, and for my part I heard
      with satisfaction that they had not allowed him to pass the barriers. It
      was said then, and it has been repeated since, that M. de Talleyrand was
      not a stranger to the gentle violence used towards him. The same day of
      this visit to M. de Talleyrand I also went to see the Duc de Rovigo
      (Savary), with the friendly object of getting him to remain, and to profit
      by his position to prevent disturbances. He refused without hesitating, as
      he only thought of the Emperor. I found him by his fireside, where there
      was a large fire, in which he was burning all the papers which might have
      compromised every one who had served his ministry (Police). I
      congratulated him sincerely on this loyal occupation: fire alone could
      purify the mass of filth and denunciations which encumbered the police
      archives.
    
M. de Talleyrand, as a member of the Council of Regency, also got the order to leave Paris on March 30th. During that time, I was at his place every day. When I went to see him that day, I was told he had already left. However, I went upstairs and spent some time at his hotel with several of his friends who were gathered there. Before long, we saw him come back, and I was pleased to hear that they hadn't let him pass the barriers. It was said then, and has been said since, that M. de Talleyrand was not entirely unaware of the gentle force used against him. On the same day I visited M. de Talleyrand, I also went to see the Duc de Rovigo (Savary), hoping to persuade him to stay and use his position to prevent any unrest. He flatly refused, since he only thought about the Emperor. I found him by his fireplace, where a large fire was burning, in which he was incinerating all the documents that could have compromised anyone who had served in his ministry (Police). I sincerely congratulated him on this honorable task: only fire could cleanse the mess of dirt and accusations cluttering the police archives.







      On the departure of the Empress many persons expected a popular movement
      in favour of a change of Government, but the capital remained tranquil.
      Many of the inhabitants, indeed, thought of defence, not for the sake of
      preserving Napoleon's government, but merely from that ardour of feeling
      which belongs to our national character. Strong indignation was excited by
      the thought of seeing foreigners masters of Paris—a circumstance of
      which there had been no example since the reign of Charles VII. Meanwhile
      the critical moment approached. On the 29th of March Marshals Marmont and
      Mortier fell back to defend the approaches to Paris. During the night the
      barriers were consigned to the care of the National Guard, and not a
      foreigner, not even one of their agents, was allowed to enter the capital.
    
When the Empress left, many people anticipated a popular movement for a government change, but the capital stayed calm. In fact, many residents thought about defending the city, not to uphold Napoleon's government, but simply because of the passion that characterizes our national spirit. There was strong anger at the idea of foreigners taking control of Paris—a situation that hadn't happened since Charles VII's reign. Meanwhile, the critical moment drew near. On March 29th, Marshals Marmont and Mortier retreated to defend the entrances to Paris. During the night, the barriers were entrusted to the National Guard, and no foreigner, not even one of their agents, was allowed to enter the capital.







      At daybreak on the 30th of March the whole population of Paris was
      awakened by the report of cannon, and the plain of St. Denis was soon
      covered with Allied troops, who were debouching upon it from all points.
      The heroic valour of our troops was unavailing against such a numerical
      superiority. But the Allies paid dearly for their entrance into the French
      capital. The National Guard, under the command of Marshal Moncey, and the
      pupils of the Polytechnic School transformed into artillery men, behaved
      in a manner worthy of veteran troops. The conduct of Marmont on that day
      alone would suffice to immortalise him. The corps he commanded was reduced
      to between 7000 and 8000 infantry and 800 cavalry, with whom, for the
      space of twelve hours he maintained his ground against an army of 55,000
      men, of whom it is said 14,000 were killed, wounded, and taken. Marshal
      Marmont put himself so forward in the heat of the battle that a dozen of
      men were killed by the bayonet at his side, and his hat was perforated by
      a ball. But what was to be done against overwhelming numbers!
    
At dawn on March 30th, the entire population of Paris was awakened by the sound of cannon fire, and the plain of St. Denis quickly became filled with Allied troops advancing from all directions. The bravery of our troops couldn’t hold up against such a large force. However, the Allies paid a heavy price for entering the French capital. The National Guard, led by Marshal Moncey, and the students from the Polytechnic School who were turned into artillery men, fought like seasoned veterans. Marmont's actions that day alone would secure his place in history. The troops he commanded were reduced to about 7,000 to 8,000 infantry and 800 cavalry, yet for twelve hours he held his position against an army of 55,000, with reports of 14,000 of the enemy being killed, wounded, or captured. Marshal Marmont was so engaged in the battle that multiple men were killed by bayonets beside him, and a bullet pierced his hat. But what could be done against such overwhelming numbers!







      In this state of things the Duke of Ragusa made known his situation to
      Joseph Bonaparte, who authorised him to negotiate.
    
In this situation, the Duke of Ragusa informed Joseph Bonaparte of his circumstances, who then gave him the green light to negotiate.







      Joseph's answer is so important in reference to the events which succeeded
      that I will transcribe it here.
    
Joseph's answer is really important for what happened next, so I'll write it out here.






   If the Dukes of Ragusa and Treviso can no longer hold out, they are
   authorised to negotiate with Prince Schwartzenberg and the Emperor
   of Russia, who are before them.

   They will fall back on the Loire.
                  (Signed)  JOSEPH

   Montmartre, 30th March 1814, 12 oclock

   If the Dukes of Ragusa and Treviso can’t hold out any longer, they are allowed to negotiate with Prince Schwartzenberg and the Emperor of Russia, who are right in front of them.

   They will retreat to the Loire.
                  (Signed)  JOSEPH

   Montmartre, March 30, 1814, 12 o’clock







      It was not until a considerable time after the receipt of this formal
      authority that Marmont and Mortier ceased to make a vigorous resistance
      against the Allied army, for the suspension of arms was not agreed upon
      until four in the afternoon. It was not waited for by Joseph; at a quarter
      past twelve—that is to say, immediately after he had addressed to
      Marmont the authority just alluded to Joseph repaired to the Bois de
      Boulogne to regain the Versailles road, and from thence to proceed to
      Rambouillet. The precipitate flight of Joseph astonished only those who
      did not know him. I know for a fact that several officers attached to his
      staff were much dissatisfied at his alacrity on this occasion.
    
It wasn’t until quite a while after they received this formal order that Marmont and Mortier finally stopped resisting the Allied army, as the ceasefire wasn’t agreed upon until four in the afternoon. Joseph didn’t wait for it; at a quarter past twelve—right after he gave Marmont the authority I just mentioned—Joseph went to the Bois de Boulogne to get back on the Versailles road and then head to Rambouillet. Joseph’s hasty departure surprised only those who didn’t know him. I know for sure that several officers on his staff were really unhappy with how quickly he left this time.







      In these circumstances what was to be done but to save Paris, which there
      was no possibility of defending two hours longer. Methinks I still see
      Marmont when, on the evening of the 30th of March, he returned from the
      field of battle to his hotel in the Rue de Paradis, where I was waiting
      for him, together with about twenty other persons, among whom were MM.
      Perregaua and Lafitte. When he entered he was scarcely recognisable: he
      had a beard of eight days' growth; the greatcoat which covered his uniform
      was in tatters, and he was blackened with powder from head to foot. We
      considered what was best to be done, and all insisted on the necessity of
      signing a capitulation. The Marshal must recollect that the exclamation of
      every one about him was, "France must be saved." MM. Perregaus and Lafitte
      delivered their opinions in a very decided way, and it will readily be
      conceived how great was the influence of two men who were at the head of
      the financial world. They alleged that the general wish of the Parisians,
      which nobody had a better opportunity of knowing than themselves, was
      decidedly averse to a protracted conflict, and that France was tired of
      the yoke of Bonaparte. This last declaration gave a wider range to the
      business under consideration. The question was no longer confined to the
      capitulation of Paris, but a change in the government was thought of, and
      the name of the Bourbons was pronounced for the first time. I do not
      recollect which of us it was who, on hearing mention made of the possible
      recall of the old dynasty, remarked how difficult it would be to bring
      about a restoration without retrograding to the past. But I think I am
      perfectly correct in stating that M. Lafitte said, "Gentlemen, we shall
      have nothing to fear if we have a good constitution which will guarantee
      the rights of all." The majority of the meeting concurred in this wise
      opinion, which was not without its influence on Marshal Marmont.
    
In this situation, what else could be done but to save Paris, which couldn't be defended for another two hours? I still picture Marmont when, on the evening of March 30th, he returned from the battlefield to his hotel on Rue de Paradis, where I was waiting for him along with about twenty other people, including Messrs. Perregaux and Lafitte. When he walked in, he was barely recognizable: his beard was eight days old, the greatcoat over his uniform was in tatters, and he was covered in powder from head to toe. We discussed what to do next, and everyone insisted on the need to sign a capitulation. The Marshal must remember that everyone around him exclaimed, "France must be saved." Messrs. Perregaux and Lafitte expressed their opinions assertively, and it was easy to see how influential two men leading the financial world could be. They argued that the general sentiment of Parisians, which they were in the best position to know, was firmly against a prolonged conflict, and that France was tired of Bonaparte's rule. This last point expanded the discussion. It wasn't just about capitulating Paris anymore; thoughts of changing the government came up, and the Bourbons' name was mentioned for the first time. I don’t recall who among us remarked that discussing the potential return of the old dynasty would make restoration difficult without reverting to past mistakes. However, I believe it was Mr. Lafitte who stated, "Gentlemen, we have nothing to fear if we have a solid constitution that guarantees everyone's rights." The majority of the gathering agreed with this sensible viewpoint, which also influenced Marshal Marmont.







      During this painful meeting an unexpected incident occurred. One of the
      Emperor's aides de camp arrived at Marmont's. Napoleon, being informed of
      the advance of the Allies on Paris, had marched with the utmost speed from
      the banks of the Marne on the road of Fontainebleau. In the evening he was
      in person at Froidmanteau, whence he despatched his envoy to Marshal
      Marmont. From the language of the aide de camp it was easy to perceive
      that the state of opinion at the Imperial headquarters was very different
      from that which prevailed among the population of Paris. The officer
      expressed indignation at the very idea of capitulating, and he announced
      with inconceivable confidence the approaching arrival of Napoleon in
      Paris, which he yet hoped to save from the occupation of the enemy. The
      officer informed us that Napoleon trusted to the people rising in spite of
      the capitulation, and that they would unpave the streets to stone the
      Allies on their entrance. I ventured to dissent from this absurd idea of
      defence, and I observed that it was madness to suppose that Paris could
      resist the numerous troops who were ready to enter on the following day;
      that the suspension of arms had been consented to by the Allies only to
      afford time for drawing up a more regular capitulation, and that the
      armistice could not be broken without trampling on all the laws of honour.
      I added that the thoughts of the people were directed towards a better
      future; that the French were tired of a despotic Government and of the
      distress to which continual war had reduced trade and industry; "for,"
      said I, "when a nation is sunk to such a state of misery its hopes can
      only be directed towards the future; it is natural they should be so
      directed, even without reflection." Most of the individuals present
      concurred in my opinion, and the decision of the meeting was unanimous.
      Marshal Marmont has since said to me, "I have been blamed, my dear
      Bourrienne: but you were with me on the 30th of March. You were a witness
      to the wishes expressed by a portion of the principal inhabitants of
      Paris. I acted as I was urged to do only because I considered the meeting
      to be composed of men entirely disinterested, and who had nothing to
      expect from the return of the Bourbons."
    
During this difficult meeting, an unexpected event took place. One of the Emperor's aides arrived at Marmont's. Napoleon, having been informed of the Allies advancing on Paris, rushed from the banks of the Marne towards Fontainebleau. That evening, he was at Froidmanteau, from where he sent his envoy to Marshal Marmont. From the aide's tone, it was clear that the views at the Imperial headquarters were very different from those of the people in Paris. The officer expressed outrage at the mere thought of surrendering and announced, with surprising confidence, that Napoleon was on his way to Paris, which he still hoped to protect from enemy occupation. The officer told us that Napoleon believed the people would rise up despite the surrender and that they would rip up the streets to hurl stones at the Allies as they entered. I dared to disagree with this ridiculous notion of defense, pointing out that it was madness to think Paris could withstand the large number of troops ready to enter the next day; that the Allies had only agreed to the ceasefire to allow time to prepare a more formal surrender, and that breaking the truce would go against all principles of honor. I added that people's thoughts were focused on a brighter future; that the French were fed up with a despotic government and the suffering that constant war had brought to trade and industry; "because," I said, "when a nation has sunk into such misery, its hopes can only be aimed at the future; it’s natural for them to think that way, even without much reflection." Most of those present agreed with me, and the meeting's decision was unanimous. Marshal Marmont later said to me, "I've been criticized, my dear Bourrienne: but you were with me on March 30th. You witnessed the desires expressed by some of Paris's key citizens. I acted as I was encouraged to because I believed the meeting was made up of totally selfless men who had nothing to gain from the return of the Bourbons."







      Such is a correct statement of the facts which some persons have perverted
      with the view of enhancing Napoleon's glory. With respect to those
      versions which differ from mine I have only one comment to offer, which
      is, that I saw and heard what I describe.
    
This is an accurate account of the facts that some people have twisted to boost Napoleon's reputation. Regarding those differing interpretations, I have just one thing to say: I witnessed and experienced what I'm describing.







      The day after the capitulation of Paris—Marmont went in the evening
      to see the Emperor at Fontainebleau. He supped with him. Napoleon praised
      his defence of Paris.. After supper the Marshal rejoined his corps at
      Essonne, and six hours after the Emperor arrived there to visit the lines.
      On leaving Paris Marmont had left Colonels Fabvier and Dent's to direct
      the execution of the capitulation. These officers joined the Emperor and
      the Marshal as they were proceeding up the banks of the river at Essonne.
      They did not disguise the effect which the entrance of the Allies had
      produced in Paris. At this intelligence the Emperor was deeply mortified,
      and he returned immediately to Fontainebleau, leaving the Marshal at
      Essonne.
    
The day after Paris surrendered, Marmont went to see the Emperor at Fontainebleau in the evening. They had dinner together, and Napoleon praised Marmont for his defense of Paris. After dinner, the Marshal rejoined his corps at Essonne, and six hours later, the Emperor arrived there to inspect the lines. When leaving Paris, Marmont had left Colonels Fabvier and Dent in charge of carrying out the terms of the surrender. These officers met up with the Emperor and the Marshal as they were moving along the riverbank at Essonne. They didn’t hide the impact that the Allies' entry had on Paris. Hearing this news deeply upset the Emperor, and he returned immediately to Fontainebleau, leaving the Marshal at Essonne.







      At daybreak on the 31st of March Paris presented a novel and curious
      spectacle. No sooner had the French troops evacuated the capital than the
      principal streets resounded with cries of "Down with Bonaparte!"—
      "No conscription!"—"No consolidated duties (droits reunis)!" With
      these cries were mingled that of "The Bourbons for ever!" but this latter
      cry was not repeated so frequently as the others: in general I remarked
      that the people gaped and listened with a sort of indifference. As I had
      taken a very active part in all that had happened during some preceding
      days I was particularly curious to study what might be called the
      physiognomy of Paris. This was the second opportunity which had offered
      itself for such a study, and I now saw the people applaud the fall of the
      man whom they had received with enthusiasm after the 18th Brumaire. The
      reason was, that liberty was then hoped for, as it was hoped for in 1814.
      I went out early in the morning to see the numerous groups of people who
      had assembled in the streets. I saw women tearing their handkerchiefs and
      distributing the fragments as the emblems of the revived lily. That same
      morning I met on the Boulevards, and some hours afterwards on the Place
      Louis XV., a party of gentlemen who paraded the streets of the capital
      proclaiming the restoration of the Bourbons and shouting, "Vive le Roi!"
      and "Vive Louis XVIII!" At their head I recognised MM. Sosthenes de la
      Rochefoucauld, Comte de Froissard, the Duc de Luxembourg, the Duc de
      Crussol, Seymour, etc. The cavalcade distributed white cockades in passing
      along, and was speedily joined by a numerous crowd, who repaired to the
      Place Vendome. The scene that was acted there is well known, and the
      enthusiasm of popular joy could scarcely excuse the fury that was directed
      against the effigy of the man whose misfortunes, whether merited or not,
      should have protected him from such outrages. These excesses served,
      perhaps more than is generally supposed, to favour the plans of the
      leaders of the Royalist party, to whom M. Nesselrode had declared that
      before he would pledge himself to further their views he must have proofs
      that they were seconded by the population of Paris.
    
At dawn on March 31, Paris showed a strange and interesting scene. As soon as the French troops left the city, the main streets echoed with shouts of "Down with Bonaparte!"—"No conscription!"—"No consolidated duties!" Alongside these cries were calls for "The Bourbons forever!" but that chant was not repeated as often as the others. Overall, I noticed that people seemed to gape and listen with a kind of indifference. Having been very involved in everything that had happened in the days leading up to this, I was especially curious to observe what I would call the face of Paris. This was the second chance I'd had to study this, and now I saw people applauding the downfall of the man they had welcomed with enthusiasm after the 18th Brumaire. The reason was that they were then hoping for liberty, just as they had hoped for it in 1814. I went out early that morning to see the many groups of people gathered in the streets. I saw women ripping their handkerchiefs and handing out the pieces as symbols of the revived lily. That same morning, I encountered a group of gentlemen on the Boulevards, and a few hours later on Place Louis XV, parading through the city proclaiming the return of the Bourbons and shouting, "Long live the King!" and "Long live Louis XVIII!" At their head, I recognized Sosthenes de la Rochefoucauld, Count de Froissard, the Duke of Luxembourg, the Duke of Crussol, Seymour, and others. The procession was distributing white cockades as they moved along and quickly attracted a large crowd, which headed to Place Vendôme. The scene that unfolded there is well known, and the excitement of the public joy could hardly excuse the rage directed at the effigy of the man whose misfortunes, whether deserved or not, should have shielded him from such mistreatment. These excesses may have done more than is usually believed to support the plans of the leaders of the Royalist party, to whom M. Nesselrode stated that before he could commit to furthering their agenda, he needed evidence that they had the backing of the people of Paris.







      I was afterwards informed by an eye-witness of what took place on the
      evening of the 31st of March in one of the principal meetings of the
      Royalists, which was held in the hotel of the Comte de Morfontaine, who
      acted as president on the occasion. Amidst a chaos of abortive
      propositions and contradictory motions M. Sosthenes de la Rochefoucauld
      proposed that a deputation should be immediately sent to the Emperor
      Alexander to express to him the wish of the meeting. This motion was
      immediately approved, and the mover was chosen to head the deputation. On
      leaving the hotel the deputation met M. de Chateaubriand, who had that
      very day been, as it were, the precursor of the restoration, by publishing
      his admirable manifesto, entitled "Bonaparte and the Bourbons." He was
      invited to join the deputation; but nothing could overcome his diffidence
      and induce him to speak. On arriving at the hotel in the Rue St. Florentin
      the deputation was introduced to Count Nesselrode, to whom M. Sosthenes de
      la Rochefoucauld briefly explained its object; he spoke of the wishes of
      the meeting and of the manifest desire of Paris and of France. He
      represented the restoration of the Bourbons as the only means of securing
      the peace of Europe; and observed, in conclusion, that as the exertions of
      the day must have been very fatiguing to the Emperor, the deputation would
      not solicit the favour of being introduced to him, but would confidently
      rely on the good faith of his Imperial Majesty. "I have just left the
      Emperor," replied M. Nesselrode, "and can pledge myself for his
      intentions. Return to the meeting and announce to the French people that
      in compliance with their wishes his Imperial Majesty will use all his
      influence to restore the crown to the legitimate monarch: his Majesty
      Louis XVIII. shall reascend the throne of France." With this gratifying
      intelligence the deputation returned to the meeting in the Rue d'Anjou.
    
I was later told by someone who witnessed the events that took place on the evening of March 31st during one of the main meetings of the Royalists, held at the hotel of the Comte de Morfontaine, who presided over the gathering. Amid a flurry of failed proposals and conflicting motions, M. Sosthenes de la Rochefoucauld suggested that a delegation be sent immediately to Emperor Alexander to convey the wishes of the meeting. This motion was quickly approved, and the proposer was appointed to lead the delegation. As they left the hotel, the delegation encountered M. de Chateaubriand, who had just that day acted as the forerunner of the restoration by publishing his impressive manifesto, titled "Bonaparte and the Bourbons." He was invited to join the delegation, but he couldn’t shake off his shyness and refused to speak. Upon reaching the hotel on Rue St. Florentin, the delegation was introduced to Count Nesselrode, to whom M. Sosthenes de la Rochefoucauld briefly outlined their purpose; he mentioned the meeting’s wishes and the strong desires of Paris and France. He argued that the restoration of the Bourbons was the only way to ensure peace in Europe; and concluded by saying that since the day’s efforts must have been tiring for the Emperor, the delegation would not ask for an introduction but would trust in the good intentions of his Imperial Majesty. "I have just left the Emperor," replied M. Nesselrode, "and I can assure you of his intentions. Go back to the meeting and tell the French people that in accordance with their wishes, his Imperial Majesty will do everything he can to restore the crown to the legitimate monarch: his Majesty Louis XVIII will take the throne of France again." With this encouraging news, the delegation returned to the meeting on Rue d'Anjou.







      There is no question that great enthusiasm was displayed on the entrance
      of the Allies into Paris. It may be praised or blamed, but the fact cannot
      be denied. I closely watched all that was passing, and I observed the
      expression of a sentiment which I had long anticipated when, after his
      alliance with the daughter of the Caesars, the ambition of Bonaparte
      increased in proportion as it was gratified: I clearly foresaw Napoleon's
      fall. Whoever watched the course of events during the last four years of
      the Empire must have observed, as I did, that from the date of Napoleon's
      marriage with Maria Louisa the form of the French Government became daily
      more and more tyrannical and oppressive. The intolerable height which this
      evil had attained is evident from the circumstance that at the end of 1813
      the Legislative Body, throwing aside the mute character which it had
      hitherto maintained, presumed to give a lecture to him who had never
      before received a lecture from any one. On the 31st of March it was
      recollected what had been the conduct of Bonaparte on the occasion alluded
      to, and those of the deputies who remained in Paris related how the
      gendarmes had opposed their entrance into the hall of the Assembly. All
      this contributed wonderfully to irritate the public mind against Napoleon.
      He had become master of France by the sword, and the sword being sheathed,
      his power was at an end, for no popular institution identified with the
      nation the new dynasty which he hoped to found. The nation admired but did
      not love Napoleon, for it is impossible to love what is feared, and he had
      done nothing to claim the affections of France.
    
There’s no doubt that there was a lot of excitement when the Allies entered Paris. It can be praised or criticized, but that fact is undeniable. I closely watched everything happening and noticed a feeling I had anticipated for a long time: after Bonaparte allied himself with the daughter of the Caesars, his ambition grew as it was satisfied, and I clearly foresaw Napoleon's downfall. Anyone who followed the events of the last four years of the Empire must have noticed, as I did, that since Napoleon's marriage to Maria Louisa, the French government became increasingly tyrannical and oppressive. The extreme level of this issue was evident when, at the end of 1813, the Legislative Body, shedding its previously silent role, dared to lecture someone who had never been lectured before. On March 31, people remembered how Bonaparte had acted during that time, and those deputies who stayed in Paris shared how the gendarmes had blocked their entrance to the Assembly hall. All of this certainly stirred up public anger against Napoleon. He had gained control of France through force, and now that the sword was sheathed, his power was over, as there was no popular institution linking the nation to the new dynasty he hoped to establish. The nation admired Napoleon but did not love him, because it’s impossible to love what you fear, and he had done nothing to earn the affection of France.







      I was present at all the meetings and conferences which were held at M de
      Talleyrand's hotel, where the Emperor Alexander had taken up his
      residence. Of all the persons present at these meetings M. de Talleyrand
      was most disposed to retain Napoleon at the head of the Government, with
      restrictions on the exercise of his power. In the existing state of things
      it was only possible to choose one of three courses: first, to make peace
      with Napoleon, with the adoption of proper securities against him; second,
      to establish a Regency; and third, to recall the Bourbons.
    
I attended all the meetings and conferences held at M de Talleyrand's hotel, where Emperor Alexander was staying. Out of everyone present, M. de Talleyrand was the most inclined to keep Napoleon at the top of the government, but with limits on his power. Given the current situation, there were only three options: first, to make peace with Napoleon while ensuring proper safeguards against him; second, to set up a Regency; and third, to bring back the Bourbons.







      On the 13th of March I witnessed the entrance of the Allied sovereigns
      into Paris, and after the procession had passed the new street of the
      Luxembourg I repaired straight to M. de Talleyrand's hotel, which I
      reached before the Emperor Alexander, who arrived at a quarter-past one.
      When his Imperial Majesty entered M. de Talleyrand's drawing-room most of
      the persons assembled, and particularly the Abbe de Pradt, the Abbe de
      Montesquieu, and General Dessolles, urgently demanded the restoration of
      the Bourbons. The Emperor did not come to any immediate decision. Drawing
      me into the embrasure of a window, which looked upon the street, he made
      some observations which enabled me to guess what would be his
      determination. "M. de Bourrienne," said he, "you have been the friend of
      Napoleon, and so have I. I was his sincere friend; but there is no
      possibility of remaining at peace with a man of such bad faith." These
      last words opened my eyes; and when the different propositions which were
      made came under discussion I saw plainly that Bonaparte, in making himself
      Emperor, had made up the bed for the Bourbons.
    
On March 13th, I saw the Allied leaders enter Paris, and after the procession went past the new Luxembourg street, I went straight to M. de Talleyrand's hotel, arriving before Emperor Alexander, who showed up at a quarter past one. When His Imperial Majesty entered M. de Talleyrand's drawing-room, most of the people there, especially Abbe de Pradt, Abbe de Montesquieu, and General Dessolles, strongly urged for the restoration of the Bourbons. The Emperor didn't make an immediate decision. Pulling me aside into a window nook that overlooked the street, he shared some thoughts that led me to guess his stance. "M. de Bourrienne," he said, "you’ve been a friend of Napoleon, and so have I. I was truly his friend; but it’s impossible to have peace with someone so untrustworthy." Those last words opened my eyes, and when the different proposals were discussed, it became clear to me that by making himself Emperor, Bonaparte had laid the groundwork for the Bourbons.







      A discussion ensued on the three possible measures which I have above
      mentioned, and which were proposed by the Emperor Alexander himself. I
      thought, if I may so express myself, that his Majesty was playing a part,
      when, pretending to doubt the possibility of recalling the Bourbons, which
      he wished above all things, he asked M. de Talleyrand what means he
      proposed to employ for the attainment of that object? Besides the French,
      there were present at this meeting the Emperor Alexander, the King of
      Prussia, Prince Schwartzenberg, M. Nesselrode, M. Pozzo-di-Borgo, and
      Prince Liechtenstein. During the discussion Alexander walked about with
      some appearance of agitation. "Gentlemen," said, he, addressing us in an
      elevated tone of voice, "you know that it was not I who commenced the war;
      you know that Napoleon came to attack me in my dominions. But we are not
      drawn here by the thirst of conquest or the desire of revenge. You have
      seen the precautions I have taken to preserve your capital, the wonder of
      the arts, from the horrors of pillage, to which the chances of war would
      have consigned it. Neither my Allies nor myself are engaged in a war of
      reprisals; and I should be inconsolable if any violence were committed on
      your magnificent city. We are not waging war against France, but against
      Napoleon, and the enemies of French liberty. William, and you, Prince"
      (here the Emperor turned towards the King of Prussia and Prince
      Schwartzenberg, who represented the Emperor of Austria), "you can both
      bear testimony that the sentiments I express are yours." Both bowed assent
      to this observation of Alexander, which his Majesty several times repeated
      in different words. He insisted that France should be perfectly free; and
      declared that as soon as the wishes of the country were understood, he and
      his Allies would support them, without seeking to favour any particular
      government.
    
A discussion took place about the three possible measures I mentioned earlier, proposed by Emperor Alexander himself. I thought, if I can put it this way, that His Majesty was putting on an act. While pretending to doubt the possibility of bringing back the Bourbons, which he desired most of all, he asked M. de Talleyrand what methods he planned to use to achieve that goal. Along with the French, there were also present at this meeting Emperor Alexander, the King of Prussia, Prince Schwartzenberg, M. Nesselrode, M. Pozzo-di-Borgo, and Prince Liechtenstein. During the discussion, Alexander moved around, showing signs of agitation. "Gentlemen," he said, addressing us in a raised voice, "you know it wasn't me who started the war; you know Napoleon attacked me in my territories. But we're not here out of a thirst for conquest or a desire for revenge. You've seen the steps I've taken to protect your capital, the marvel of the arts, from the horrors of pillage that the unpredictability of war could have inflicted on it. Neither my Allies nor I are engaged in a war of reprisals, and I would be heartbroken if any violence were to occur in your magnificent city. We're not fighting against France, but against Napoleon and the enemies of French liberty. William, and you, Prince” (here the Emperor turned to the King of Prussia and Prince Schwartzenberg, who represented the Emperor of Austria), “you can both confirm that what I’m saying reflects your views." Both nodded in agreement with Alexander's remark, which His Majesty reiterated several times in different ways. He insisted that France should be completely free, declaring that as soon as the country's wishes were clear, he and his Allies would support them without favoring any specific government.







      The Abbe de Pradt then declared, in a tone of conviction, that we were all
      Royalists, and that the sentiments of France concurred with ours. The
      Emperor Alexander, adverting to the different governments which might be
      suitable to France, spoke of the maintenance of Bonaparte on the throne,
      the establishment of a Regency, the choice of Bernadotte, and the recall
      of the Bourbons. M. de Talleyrand next spoke, and I well remember his
      saying to the Emperor of Russia, "Sire, only one of two things is
      possible. We must either have Bonaparte or Louis XVIII. Bonaparte, if you
      can support him; but you cannot, for you are not alone.... We will not
      have another soldier in his stead. If we want a soldier, we will keep the
      one we have; he is the first in the world. After him any other who may be
      proposed would not have ten men to support him. I say again, Sire, either
      Bonaparte or Louis XVIII. Anything else is an intrigue." These remarkable
      words of the Prince de Benevento produced on the mind of Alexander all the
      effect we could hope for. Thus the question was simplified, being reduced
      now to only two alternatives; and as it was evident that Alexander would
      have nothing to do with either Napoleon or his family, it was reduced to
      the single proposition of the restoration of the Bourbons.
    
The Abbe de Pradt then asserted confidently that we were all Royalists and that the feelings of France aligned with ours. Emperor Alexander, discussing the different governments that might fit France, mentioned keeping Bonaparte on the throne, setting up a Regency, choosing Bernadotte, and bringing back the Bourbons. M. de Talleyrand then spoke, and I clearly remember him saying to the Emperor of Russia, "Sire, only one of two things is possible. We must either have Bonaparte or Louis XVIII. Bonaparte, if you can support him; but you cannot, because you are not alone.... We will not accept another soldier in his place. If we need a soldier, we'll keep the one we have; he's the best in the world. After him, anyone else proposed wouldn't have the backing of even ten men. I repeat, Sire, it's either Bonaparte or Louis XVIII. Anything else is just a scheme." These striking words from Prince de Benevento had the effect on Alexander that we hoped for. Thus, the question was simplified to just two options; and since it was clear that Alexander wanted nothing to do with either Napoleon or his family, it was narrowed down to the single option of restoring the Bourbons.







      On being pressed by us all, with the exception of M. de Talleyrand, who
      still wished to leave the question undecided between Bonaparte and Louis
      XVIII., Alexander at length declared that he would no longer treat with
      Napoleon. When it was represented to him that that declaration referred
      only to Napoleon personally, and did not extend to his family, he added,
      "Nor with any member of his family." Thus as early as the 31st of March
      the restoration of the Bourbons might be considered as decided.
    
On being pressed by everyone except M. de Talleyrand, who still wanted to keep the question open between Bonaparte and Louis XVIII, Alexander finally stated that he would no longer negotiate with Napoleon. When it was pointed out that this declaration only applied to Napoleon himself and not his family, he added, "Nor with any member of his family." Thus, as early as March 31st, the restoration of the Bourbons could be considered settled.







      I cannot omit mentioning the hurry with which Laborie, whom M. de
      Talleyrand appointed Secretary to the Provisional Government, rushed out
      of the apartment as soon as he got possession of the Emperor Alexander's
      declaration. He got it printed with such expedition that in the space of
      an hour it was posted on all the walls in Paris; and it certainly produced
      an extraordinary effect. As yet nothing warranted a doubt that Alexander
      would not abide by his word. The treaty of Paris could not be anticipated;
      and there was reason to believe that France, with a new Government, would
      obtain more advantageous conditions than if the Allies had, treated with
      Napoleon. But this illusion speedily vanished.
    
I have to mention how quickly Laborie, whom M. de Talleyrand appointed as Secretary to the Provisional Government, rushed out of the room as soon as he got hold of Emperor Alexander's declaration. He managed to get it printed so fast that within an hour, it was posted on walls all over Paris, and it definitely made a significant impact. At that point, there was no reason to doubt that Alexander would stick to his word. The treaty of Paris couldn't be predicted; and there were reasons to believe that France, with a new government, would receive better terms than if the Allies had negotiated with Napoleon. But this illusion faded quickly.







      On the evening of the 31st of March I returned to M. de Talleyrand's. I
      again saw the Emperor Alexander, who, stepping up to me, said, "M. de
      Bourrienne you must take the superintendence of the Post-office
      department." I could not decline this precise invitation on the part of
      the Czar; and besides, Lavalette having departed on the preceding day, the
      business would have been for a time suspended; a circumstance which would
      have been extremely prejudicial to the restoration which we wished to
      favour.
    
On the evening of March 31st, I went back to M. de Talleyrand's. I saw Emperor Alexander again, and he stepped up to me and said, "M. de Bourrienne, you need to oversee the Post-office department." I couldn't turn down this specific request from the Czar; plus, since Lavalette had left the day before, the operations would have been on hold for a while, which would have been very detrimental to the restoration we were trying to support.







      I went at once to the hotel in the Rue J. J. Rousseau, where, indeed, I
      found that not only was there no order to send out the post next day, but
      that it had been even countermanded. I went that night to the
      administrators, who yielded to my requests and, seconded by them, next
      morning I got all the clerks to be at their post. I reorganised the
      service, and the post went out on the 1st of April as usual. Such are my
      remembrances of the 31st of March.
    
I immediately went to the hotel on Rue J. J. Rousseau, where I discovered that not only was there no plan to send out the post the next day, but it had actually been canceled. That night, I spoke with the administrators, who agreed to help me, and the next morning I got all the clerks to be ready. I reorganized the service, and the post was sent out on April 1st as usual. Those are my memories of March 31st.







      A Provisional Government was established, of which M. de Talleyrand was
      appointed President. The other members were General Beurnonville, Comte
      Francois de Jaucourt, the Duc Dalberg, who had married one of Maria
      Louisa's ladies of honour, and the Abby de Montesquieu. The place of
      Chancellor of the Legion of Honour was given to the Abbe de Pradt. Thus
      there were two abbes among the members of the Provisional Government, and
      by a singular chance they happened to be the same who had officiated at
      the mass which was performed in the Champ de Mars on the day of the first
      federation.
    
A Provisional Government was formed, with M. de Talleyrand serving as President. The other members included General Beurnonville, Comte François de Jaucourt, the Duc Dalberg, who had married one of Maria Louisa's ladies-in-waiting, and the Abbe de Montesquieu. The position of Chancellor of the Legion of Honour was assigned to the Abbe de Pradt. Therefore, there were two abbés among the members of the Provisional Government, and by a strange coincidence, they were the same ones who had officiated at the mass held in the Champ de Mars on the day of the first federation.







      Those who were dissatisfied with the events of the 31st of March now saw
      no hope but in the possibility that the Emperor of Austria would separate
      from his Allies, or at least not make common cause with them in favour of
      the re-establishment of the Bourbons. But that monarch had been brought up
      in the old policy of his family, and was imbued with the traditional
      principles of his Cabinet. I know for a fact that the sentiments and
      intentions of the Emperor of Austria perfectly coincided with those of his
      Allies. Anxious to ascertain the truth on this subject, I ventured, when
      in conversation with the Emperor Alexander, to hint at the reports I had
      heard relative to the cause of the Emperor of Austria's absence. I do not
      recollect the precise words of his Majesty's answer, but it enabled me to
      infer with certainty that Francis II. was in no way averse to the
      overthrow of his son-in-law, and that his absence from the scene of the
      discussions was only occasioned by a feeling of delicacy natural enough in
      his situation.
    
Those who were unhappy with what happened on March 31st now saw no hope except for the possibility that the Emperor of Austria would break away from his Allies, or at least not join forces with them to restore the Bourbons. However, that monarch had been raised in the old tradition of his family and held the traditional views of his Cabinet. I know for sure that the sentiments and intentions of the Emperor of Austria perfectly matched those of his Allies. Curious to know the truth about this, I took a chance during a conversation with Emperor Alexander to bring up the rumors I had heard regarding the reason for the Emperor of Austria's absence. I don’t remember the exact words of his Majesty's response, but it made me conclude with certainty that Francis II. had no objections to the downfall of his son-in-law, and that his absence from the discussions was simply due to a natural feeling of delicacy in his situation.







      Caulaincourt, who was sent by Napoleon to the headquarters of the Emperor
      Alexander, arrived there on the night of the 30th of March. He, however,
      did not obtain an interview with the Czar until after his Majesty had
      received the Municipal Council of Paris, at the head of which was M. de
      Chabrol. At first Alexander appeared somewhat surprised to see the
      Municipal Council, which he did not receive exactly in the way that was
      expected; but this coldness was merely momentary, and he afterwards
      addressed the Council in a very gracious way, though he dropped no hint of
      his ulterior intentions.
    
Caulaincourt, who was sent by Napoleon to the headquarters of Emperor Alexander, arrived there on the night of March 30th. However, he didn’t get to meet with the Czar until after His Majesty had spoken with the Municipal Council of Paris, led by M. de Chabrol. At first, Alexander seemed a bit surprised to see the Municipal Council and didn't greet them as expected, but this chill was just temporary. He later spoke to the Council in a very friendly manner, although he didn’t reveal any hints about his true intentions.







      Alexander, who entertained a personal regard for Caulaincourt, received
      him kindly in his own character, but not as the envoy of Napoleon. "You
      have come too late," said the Czar. "It is all over. I can say nothing to
      you at present. Go to Paris, and I will see you there." These words
      perfectly enlightened Caulaincourt as to the result of his mission. His
      next interview with the Emperor Alexander at M. de Talleyrand's did not
      take place until after the declaration noticed in my last chapter. The
      conversation they had together remained a secret, for neither Alexander
      nor the Duke of Vicenza mentioned it; but there was reason to infer, from
      some words which fell from the Emperor Alexander, that he had received
      Caulaincourt rather as a private individual than as the ambassador of
      Napoleon, whose power, indeed, he could not recognise after his
      declaration. The Provisional Government was not entirely pleased with
      Caulaincourt's presence in Paris, and a representation was made to the
      Russian Emperor on the subject. Alexander concurred in the opinion of the
      Provisional Government, which was expressed through the medium of the Abbe
      de Pradt. M. de Caulaincourt, therefore, at the wish of the Czar, returned
      to the Emperor, then at Fontainebleau.
    
Alexander, who had a personal fondness for Caulaincourt, greeted him warmly as an individual, but not as Napoleon's envoy. "You've come too late," said the Czar. "It’s all over. I can't say anything to you right now. Go to Paris, and I'll meet you there." These words made it clear to Caulaincourt what the outcome of his mission was. His next meeting with Emperor Alexander at M. de Talleyrand's didn't happen until after the declaration mentioned in my last chapter. The discussion they had remained confidential, as neither Alexander nor the Duke of Vicenza spoke about it; however, it could be inferred from some remarks by Emperor Alexander that he regarded Caulaincourt more as a private individual than as Napoleon's ambassador, whose authority he couldn't acknowledge after his declaration. The Provisional Government wasn't entirely pleased with Caulaincourt's presence in Paris, and they raised concerns with the Russian Emperor about it. Alexander agreed with the Provisional Government's stance, which was conveyed through the Abbe de Pradt. Therefore, at the Czar's request, M. de Caulaincourt returned to the Emperor, who was then at Fontainebleau.








 


 




















      CHAPTER, XXXV.
    



      1814.
    
1814.


   Situation of Bonaparte during the events of the 30th and 31st of
   March—His arrival at Fontainebleau—Plan of attacking Paris—
   Arrival of troops at Fontainebleau—The Emperor's address to the
   Guard—Forfeiture pronounced by the Senate—Letters to Marmont—
   Correspondence between Marmont and Schwartzenberg—Macdonald
   informed of the occupation of Paris—Conversation between the
   Emperor and Macdonald at Fontainebleau—Beurnonville's letter—
   Abdication on condition of a Regency—Napoleon's wish to retract his
   act of abdication—Macdonald Ney, and Caulaincourt sent to Paris—
   Marmont released from his promise by Prince Schwartzenberg.

   Situation of Bonaparte during the events of March 30th and 31st—His arrival at Fontainebleau—Plan to attack Paris—Arrival of troops at Fontainebleau—The Emperor's speech to the Guard—Forfeiture declared by the Senate—Letters to Marmont—Correspondence between Marmont and Schwartzenberg—Macdonald notified of the occupation of Paris—Conversation between the Emperor and Macdonald at Fontainebleau—Beurnonville's letter—Abdication on the condition of a Regency—Napoleon's desire to take back his abdication—Macdonald, Ney, and Caulaincourt sent to Paris—Marmont released from his promise by Prince Schwartzenberg.







      On the morning of the 30th of March, while the battle before the walls of
      Paris was at its height, Bonaparte was still at Troyes. He quitted that
      town at ten o'clock, accompanied only by Bertrand, Caulaincourt, two aides
      de camp, and two orderly officers. He was not more than two hours in
      traveling the first ten leagues, and he and his slender escort performed
      the journey without changing horses, and without even alighting. They
      arrived at Sens at one o'clock in the afternoon. Everything was in such
      confusion that it was impossible to prepare a suitable mode of conveyance
      for the Emperor. He was therefore obliged to content himself with a
      wretched cariole, and in this equipage, about four in the morning, he
      reached Froidmanteau, about four leagues from Paris. It was there that the
      Emperor received from General Belliard, who arrived at the head of a
      column of artillery, the first intelligence of the battle of Paris. He
      heard the news with an air of composure, which was probably affected to
      avoid discouraging those about him. He walked for about a quarter of an
      hour on the high road, and it was after that promenade that he sent
      Caulaincourt to Paris. Napoleon afterwards went to the house of the
      postmaster, where he ordered his maps to be brought to him, and, according
      to custom, marked the different positions of the enemy's troops with pine,
      the heads of which were touched with wax of different colours. After this
      description of work, which Napoleon did every day, or sometimes several
      times a day, he repaired to Fontainebleau, where he arrived at six in the
      morning. He did not order the great apartments of the castle to be opened,
      but went up to his favourite little apartment, where he shut himself up,
      and remained alone during the whole of the 31st of March.
    
On the morning of March 30th, while the battle outside Paris was in full swing, Bonaparte was still in Troyes. He left the town at ten o'clock, accompanied only by Bertrand, Caulaincourt, two aides-de-camp, and two orderlies. He took less than two hours to travel the first ten leagues, and he and his small escort made the trip without changing horses or even stopping. They arrived in Sens at one o'clock in the afternoon. Everything was so chaotic that it was impossible to arrange a proper ride for the Emperor. He had to settle for a shabby carriage, and in that vehicle, around four in the morning, he reached Froidmanteau, about four leagues from Paris. It was there that the Emperor received news from General Belliard, who came leading a column of artillery, about the battle in Paris. He took the news with a calm demeanor, likely to avoid discouraging those around him. He walked along the main road for about fifteen minutes, and after that brief stroll, he sent Caulaincourt to Paris. Napoleon then went to the postmaster's house, where he asked for his maps, and as usual, marked the various positions of the enemy troops with pine sticks, the tips of which were dipped in different colored wax. After this routine task, which Napoleon did daily or sometimes several times a day, he headed to Fontainebleau, arriving there at six in the morning. He did not have the main rooms of the castle opened but went straight to his favorite small room, where he locked himself away and remained alone for the entire day on March 31st.







      In the evening the Emperor sent for the Duke of Ragusa, who had just
      arrived at Essonne with his troops. The Duke reached Fontainebleau between
      three and four o'clock on the morning of the 1st of April. Napoleon then
      received a detailed account of the events of the 30th from Marmont, on
      whose gallant conduct before Paris he bestowed much praise.
    
In the evening, the Emperor called for the Duke of Ragusa, who had just arrived in Essonne with his troops. The Duke got to Fontainebleau between three and four in the morning on April 1st. Napoleon then heard a detailed report of the events of the 30th from Marmont, whose brave actions before Paris he praised highly.







      All was gloom and melancholy at Fontainebleau, yet the Emperor still
      retained his authority, and I have been informed that he deliberated for
      some time as to whether he should retire behind the Loire, or immediately
      hazard a bold stroke upon Paris, which would have been much more to his
      taste than to resign himself to the chances which an uncertain temporising
      might bring about. This latter thought pleased him; and he was seriously
      considering his plan of attack when the news of the 31st, and the
      unsuccessful issue of Caulaincourt's mission, gave him to understand that
      his situation was more desperate than he had hitherto imagined.
    
Everything was dark and depressing at Fontainebleau, but the Emperor still held onto his power. I've heard that he spent quite a while deciding whether he should retreat behind the Loire or take a daring chance on Paris, which would have suited him much better than accepting the unpredictable outcomes that a delay might bring. He was drawn to this latter idea and was seriously thinking about his attack plan when the news on the 31st, along with the failed outcome of Caulaincourt's mission, made it clear to him that his situation was more desperate than he had previously thought.







      Meanwhile the heads of his columns, which the Emperor had left at Troves,
      arrived on the 1st of April at Fontainebleau, the troops having marched
      fifty leagues in less than three days, one of the most rapid marches ever
      performed. On the 2d of April Napoleon communicated the events of Paris to
      the Generals who were about him, recommending them to conceal the news
      lest it should dispirit the troops, upon whom he yet relied. That day,
      during an inspection of the troops, which took place in the court of the
      Palace, Bonaparte assembled the officers of his Guard, and harangued them
      as follows:
    
Meanwhile, the leaders of his divisions, which the Emperor had left at Troves, arrived on April 1st at Fontainebleau, having marched fifty leagues in less than three days, one of the fastest marches ever recorded. On April 2nd, Napoleon shared the news from Paris with the Generals around him, advising them to keep the information under wraps so it wouldn’t demoralize the troops, on whom he still relied. That day, during a review of the troops in the palace courtyard, Bonaparte gathered the officers of his Guard and addressed them as follows:






   Soldiers! the enemy has stolen three marches upon us, and has made
   himself master of Paris. We must drive him thence. Frenchmen,
   unworthy of the name, emigrants whom we have pardoned, have mounted
   the white cockade, and joined the enemy. The wretches shall receive
   the reward due to this new crime. Let us swear to conquer or die,
   and to enforce respect to the tri-coloured cockade, which has for
   twenty years accompanied us on the path of glory and honour.

   Soldiers! The enemy has gained three steps on us and has taken control of Paris. We must push him out. Frenchmen, who don't deserve the title, and emigrants we've forgiven, have donned the white cockade and allied with the enemy. They will get what they deserve for this new betrayal. Let’s pledge to conquer or die, and ensure respect for the tri-colored cockade, which has been with us for twenty years on our journey of glory and honor.







      He also endeavoured to induce the Generals to second his mad designs upon
      Paris, by making them believe that he had made sincere efforts to conclude
      peace. He assured them that he had expressed to the Emperor Alexander his
      willingness to purchase it by sacrifices; that he had consented to resign
      even the conquests made during the Revolution, and to confine himself
      within the old limits of France. "Alexander," added Napoleon, "refused;
      and, not content with that refusal, he has leagued himself with a party of
      emigrants, whom, perhaps, I was wrong in pardoning for having borne arms
      against France. Through their perfidious insinuations Alexander has
      permitted the white cockade to be mounted on the capital. We will maintain
      ours, and in a few days we will march upon Paris. I rely on you."
    
He also tried to convince the Generals to support his crazy plans for Paris by making them think he had genuinely tried to make peace. He assured them that he had told Emperor Alexander he was willing to make sacrifices for it; that he had agreed to give up even the territorial gains made during the Revolution and to limit himself to the old borders of France. "Alexander," Napoleon added, "refused; and, not satisfied with that refusal, he has joined forces with a group of emigrants, whom I may have been wrong to forgive for taking up arms against France. Through their deceitful suggestions, Alexander has allowed the white cockade to be raised in the capital. We will keep ours, and in a few days, we will march on Paris. I’m counting on you."







      When the boundless attachment of the Guards to the Emperor is considered
      it cannot appear surprising that these last words, uttered in an
      impressive tone, should have produced a feeling of enthusiasm, almost
      electrical, in all to whom they were addressed. The old companions of the
      glory of their chief exclaimed with one voice, "Paris! Paris!" But,
      fortunately, during the night, the Generals having deliberated with each
      other saw the frightful abyss into which they were about to precipitate
      France. They therefore resolved to intimate in discreet terms to the
      Emperor that they would not expose Paris to destruction, so that on the 3d
      of April, prudent ideas succeeded the inconsiderate enthusiasm of the
      preceding day.
    
When you think about how deeply the Guards are attached to the Emperor, it’s no surprise that his last words, spoken with such intensity, sparked a feeling of excitement, almost electrifying, in everyone who heard them. The loyal comrades of their leader's glory shouted together, "Paris! Paris!" But thankfully, during the night, the Generals talked among themselves and realized the terrible danger they were about to throw France into. So, they decided to subtly let the Emperor know that they wouldn’t risk Paris’s destruction, and by April 3rd, sensible ideas took the place of the reckless enthusiasm from the day before.







      The wreck of the army assembled at Fontainebleau, which was the remnant of
      1,000,000 of troops levied during fifteen months, consisted only of the
      corps of the Duke of Reggio (Oudinot), Ney, Macdonald, and General Gerard,
      which 'altogether did not amount to 25,000 men, and which, joined to the
      remaining 7000 of the Guard, did not leave the Emperor a disposable force
      of more than 32,000 men. Nothing but madness or despair could have
      suggested the thought of subduing, with such scanty resources, the foreign
      masses which occupied and surrounded Paris.
    
The remnants of the army gathered at Fontainebleau, which was left from the 1,000,000 troops raised over fifteen months, included only the corps of the Duke of Reggio (Oudinot), Ney, Macdonald, and General Gerard. This group totaled barely 25,000 men, and when combined with the remaining 7,000 of the Guard, the Emperor had a maximum of 32,000 men at his disposal. Only madness or despair could have led anyone to believe that such limited resources could defeat the foreign forces occupying and surrounding Paris.







      On the 2d of April the Senate published a 'Senatus-consulte', declaring
      that Napoleon had forfeited the throne, and abolishing the right of
      succession, which had been established in favour of his family. Furnished
      with this set, and without awaiting the concurrence of the Legislative
      Body, which was given next day, the Provisional Government published an
      address to the French armies. In this address the troops were informed
      that they were no longer the soldiers of Napoleon, and that the Senate
      released them from their oaths. These documents were widely circulated at
      the time, and inserted in all the public journals.
    
On April 2nd, the Senate issued a 'Senatus-consulte', announcing that Napoleon had lost the throne and eliminating the right of succession that had been granted to his family. Armed with this declaration, and without waiting for the Legislative Body’s approval, which came the next day, the Provisional Government released a statement to the French armies. In this statement, the troops were informed that they were no longer Napoleon's soldiers and that the Senate had released them from their oaths. These documents were widely distributed at the time and published in all the public newspapers.







      The address of the Senate was sent round to the Marshals, and was of
      course first delivered to those who were nearest the capital; of this
      latter number was Marmont, whose allegiance to the Emperor, as we have
      already seen, yielded only to the sacred interests of his country.
      Montessuis was directed by the Provisional Government to convey the
      address to Marmont, and to use such arguments as were calculated to
      strengthen those sentiments which had triumphed over his dearest personal
      affections. I gave Montessuis a letter to Marmont, in which I said:
    
The address from the Senate was distributed to the Marshals, starting with those closest to the capital. Among them was Marmont, whose loyalty to the Emperor, as we've already noted, was overshadowed only by his commitment to his country. The Provisional Government instructed Montessuis to deliver the address to Marmont and to use persuasive arguments to reinforce the feelings that had prevailed over his most cherished personal attachments. I gave Montessuis a letter for Marmont, in which I said:






   "MY DEAR FRIEND—An old acquaintance of mine will convey to you the
   remembrances of our friendship. He will, I trust, influence your
   resolution: a single word will suffice to induce you to sacrifice
   all for the happiness of your country. To secure that object you,
   who are so good a Frenchman and so loyal a knight, will not fear
   either dangers or obstacles. Your friends expect you, long for you,
   and I trust will soon embrace you."

"MY DEAR FRIEND—A mutual acquaintance of ours will pass on my thoughts about our friendship. I hope he can sway your decision: just a single word will be enough to inspire you to put everything on the line for the happiness of your country. To achieve that goal, you, being such a great Frenchman and loyal knight, won’t shy away from any dangers or challenges. Your friends are waiting for you, eager to see you, and I trust they will embrace you soon."







      Montessuis also took one from General Dessolles, whom the Provisional
      Government had appointed Governor of the National Guard in the room of
      Marshal Moncey, who had left Paris on the occupation of the Allies.
      General Dessolles and I did not communicate to each other our
      correspondence, but when I afterwards saw the letter of Dessolles I could
      not help remarking the coincidence of our appeal to Marmont's patriotism.
      Prince Schwartzenberg also wrote to Marmont to induce him to espouse a
      clause which had now become the cause of France. To the Prince's letter
      Marmont replied, that he was disposed to concur in the union of the army
      and the people, which would avert all chance of civil war, and stop the
      effusion of French blood; and that he was ready with his troops to quit
      the army of the Emperor Napoleon on the condition that his troops might
      retire with the honours of war, and that the safety and liberty of the
      Emperor were guaranteed by the Allies.
    
Montessuis also took one from General Dessolles, whom the Provisional Government had appointed as Governor of the National Guard in place of Marshal Moncey, who had left Paris when the Allies occupied it. General Dessolles and I didn’t share our correspondence, but when I later saw Dessolles’s letter, I couldn’t help but notice the similarity in our appeals to Marmont’s patriotism. Prince Schwartzenberg also wrote to Marmont to persuade him to support a clause that had now become crucial for France. In response to the Prince’s letter, Marmont said that he was open to joining the army with the people, which would prevent any chance of civil war and stop the shedding of French blood; he also stated that he was prepared with his troops to leave the army of Emperor Napoleon, provided that his troops could retire with honors and that the safety and freedom of the Emperor were guaranteed by the Allies.







      After Prince Schwartzenberg acceded to these conditions Marmont was placed
      in circumstances which obliged him to request that he might be released
      from his promise.
    
After Prince Schwartzenberg agreed to these terms, Marmont found himself in a situation that forced him to ask to be released from his promise.







      I happened to learn the manner in which Marshal Macdonald was informed of
      the taking of Paris. He had been two days without any intelligence from
      the Emperor, when he received an order in the handwriting of Berthier,
      couched in the following terms: "The Emperor desires that you halt
      wherever you may receive this order." After Berthier's signature the
      following words were added as a postscript: "You, of course, know that the
      enemy is in possession of Paris." When the Emperor thus announced, with
      apparent negligence, an event which totally changed the face of affairs, I
      am convinced his object was to make the Marshal believe that he looked
      upon, that event as less important than it really was. However, this
      object was not attained, for I recollect having heard Macdonald say that
      Berthier's singular postscript, and the tone of indifference in which it
      was expressed, filled him with mingled surprise and alarm. Marshal
      Macdonald then commanded the rear-guard of the army which occupied the
      environs of Montereau. Six hours after the receipt of the order here
      referred to Macdonald received a second order directing him to put his
      troops in motion, and he learned the Emperor's intention of marching on
      Paris with all his remaining force.
    
I found out how Marshal Macdonald learned about the capture of Paris. He had gone two days without any news from the Emperor when he received an order written by Berthier that said: "The Emperor wants you to stop wherever you receive this order." After Berthier’s signature, there was a postscript that added: "You know, of course, that the enemy is in Paris." When the Emperor announced this event, which completely changed everything, I believe he wanted to make the Marshal think he considered it less significant than it actually was. However, this didn’t work, because I remember hearing Macdonald say that Berthier's strange postscript, along with its indifferent tone, left him feeling both surprised and alarmed. Marshal Macdonald was in command of the rear guard of the army stationed around Montereau. Six hours after receiving that order, Macdonald got another one directing him to move his troops and learned that the Emperor intended to march on Paris with all his remaining forces.







      On receiving the Emperor's second order Macdonald left his corps at
      Montereau and repaired in haste to Fontainebleau. When he arrived there
      the Emperor had already intimated to the Generals commanding divisions in
      the corps assembled at Fontainebleau his design of marching on Paris.
      Alarmed at this determination the Generals, most of whom had left in the
      capital their wives, children, and friends, requested that Macdonald would
      go with them to wait upon Napoleon and endeavour to dissuade him from his
      intention. "Gentlemen," said the Marshal, "in the Emperor's present
      situation such a proceeding may displease him. It must be managed
      cautiously. Leave it to me, gentlemen, I will go to the chateau."
    
Upon receiving the Emperor's second order, Macdonald left his corps at Montereau and quickly made his way to Fontainebleau. When he arrived, the Emperor had already informed the Generals in charge of the divisions gathered at Fontainebleau about his plan to march on Paris. Concerned about this decision, the Generals, most of whom had left their wives, children, and friends in the capital, urged Macdonald to accompany them to speak with Napoleon and try to persuade him against his plan. "Gentlemen," said the Marshal, "given the Emperor's current situation, this approach might upset him. It needs to be handled carefully. Leave it to me, gentlemen; I will go to the chateau."







      Marshal Macdonald accordingly went to the Palace of Fontainebleau, where
      the following conversation ensued between him and the Emperor, and I beg
      the reader to bear in mind that it was related to me by the Marshal
      himself. As soon as he entered the apartment in which Napoleon was the
      latter stepped up to him and said, "Well, how are things going on?"—
      "Very badly, Sire."—"How? . . . badly! . . . What then are the
      feelings of your army?"—"My army, Sire, is entirely discouraged . .
      . appalled by the fate of Paris."—"Will not your troops join me in
      an advance on Paris?"—"Sire, do not think of such a thing. If I were
      to give such an order to my troops I should run the risk of being
      disobeyed."—"But what is to be done? I cannot remain as I am; I have
      yet resources and partisans. It is said that the Allies will no longer
      treat with me. Well! no matter. I will march on Paris. I will be revenged
      on the inconstancy of the Parisians and the baseness of the Senate. Woe to
      the members of the Government they have patched up for the return of their
      Bourbons; that is what they are looking forward to. But to-morrow I shall
      place myself at the head of my Guards, and to-morrow we shall be in the
      Tuileries."
    
Marshal Macdonald went to the Palace of Fontainebleau, where the following conversation took place between him and the Emperor. I want to remind the reader that it was told to me by the Marshal himself. As soon as he entered the room where Napoleon was, the latter walked up to him and said, "Well, how are things going?" — "Very badly, Sir." — "How? Badly? What do your troops feel?" — "My army, Sir, is completely discouraged... shocked by the fate of Paris." — "Won't your troops join me in an advance on Paris?" — "Sir, do not think of such a thing. If I were to give that order to my troops, I would risk being disobeyed." — "But what can be done? I cannot stay as I am; I still have resources and supporters. It’s said that the Allies will no longer negotiate with me. Well! No matter. I will march on Paris. I will get my revenge on the fickleness of the Parisians and the treachery of the Senate. Woe to the members of the Government they have assembled for the return of their Bourbons; that is what they are hoping for. But tomorrow I will take command of my Guards, and tomorrow we will be in the Tuileries."







      The Marshal listened in silence, and when at length Napoleon became
      somewhat calm he observed, "Sire, it appears, then, that you are not aware
      of what has taken place in Paris—of the establishment of a
      Provisional Government, and—"—"I know it all: and what then?"—"Sire,"
      added the Marshal, presenting a paper to Napoleon, "here is something
      which will tell you more than I can." Macdonald then presented to him a
      letter from General Beurnonville, announcing the forfeiture of the Emperor
      pronounced by the Senate, and the determination of the Allied powers not
      to treat with Napoleon, or any member of his family. "Marshal," said the
      Emperor, before he opened the letter, "may this be read aloud?"—"Certainly,
      Sire." The letter was then handed to Barre, who read it. An individual who
      was present on the occasion described to me the impression which the
      reading of the letter produced on Napoleon. His countenance exhibited that
      violent contraction of the features which I have often remarked when his
      mind was disturbed. However, he did not lose his self-command, which
      indeed never forsook him when policy or vanity required that he should
      retain it; and when the reading of Beurnonville's letter was ended he
      affected to persist in his intention of marching on Paris. "Sire,"
      exclaimed Macdonald, "that plan must be renounced. Not a sword would be
      unsheathed to second you in such an enterprise." After this conversation
      between the Emperor and Macdonald the question of the abdication began to
      be seriously thought of. Caulaincourt had already hinted to Napoleon that
      in case of his abdicating personally there was a possibility of inducing
      the Allies to agree to a Council of Regency. Napoleon then determined to
      sign the act of abdication, which he himself drew up in the following
      terms:—
    
The Marshal listened quietly, and when Napoleon finally calmed down a bit, he said, "Sire, it seems you're not aware of what's happened in Paris—the establishment of a Provisional Government, and—" "I know it all. So what?" Napoleon interrupted. "Sire," the Marshal replied, handing him a document, "here's something that will explain more than I can." Macdonald then gave him a letter from General Beurnonville, announcing the Senate's declaration of the Emperor's forfeiture and the Allies' decision not to negotiate with Napoleon or any of his family. "Marshal," the Emperor said before he opened the letter, "can this be read aloud?" "Of course, Sire." The letter was then passed to Barre, who read it out loud. A person who was there told me about the effect the letter had on Napoleon. His face showed that intense grimace I've often seen when he was upset. However, he didn't lose his composure, which he never did when he needed to keep it for the sake of strategy or pride; and once Beurnonville's letter was finished, he pretended to stick to his plan to march on Paris. "Sire," Macdonald exclaimed, "that plan has to be dropped. No one would raise a sword to support you in such a venture." After this discussion between the Emperor and Macdonald, thoughts about abdication began to take a serious turn. Caulaincourt had already suggested to Napoleon that if he stepped down personally, there was a chance of getting the Allies to agree to a Council of Regency. Napoleon then resolved to sign the act of abdication, which he drafted in the following terms:—






   The Allied powers having declared that the Emperor Napoleon is the
   only obstacle to the re-establishment of peace in Europe, the
   Emperor Napoleon, faithful to his oath, declares that he is ready to
   descend from the throne, to leave France, and even to lay down his
   life for the welfare of the country, which is inseparable from the
   rights of his son, those of the Regency of the Empress, and the
   maintenance of the laws of the Empire. Given at our Palace of
   Fontainebleau, 2d April 1814.
                    (Signed) NAPOLEON.

   The Allied powers have declared that Emperor Napoleon is the
   only obstacle to restoring peace in Europe. Emperor Napoleon, staying true to his oath, states that he is ready to step down from the throne, leave France, and even sacrifice his life for the country's well-being, which is closely tied to the rights of his son, those of the Regency of the Empress, and the maintenance of the laws of the Empire. Given at our Palace of Fontainebleau, April 2, 1814.
                    (Signed) NAPOLEON.







      After having written this act the Emperor presented it to the Marshals,
      saying, "Here, gentlemen! are you satisfied?"
    
After writing this act, the Emperor presented it to the Marshals, saying, "Here you go, gentlemen! Are you satisfied?"







      This abdication of Napoleon was certainly very useless, but in case of
      anything occurring to render it a matter of importance the act might have
      proved entirely illusory. Its meaning might appear unequivocal to the
      generality of people, but not to me, who was so well initiated in the
      cunning to which Napoleon could resort when it suited his purpose. It is
      necessary to observe that Napoleon does not say that "he descends from the
      throne," but that "he is ready to descend from the throne." This was a
      subterfuge, by the aid of which he intended to open new negotiations
      respecting the form and conditions of the Regency of his son, in case of
      the Allied sovereigns acceding to that proposition. This would have
      afforded the means of gaining time.
    
This abdication by Napoleon was definitely pointless, but if something had happened to make it significant, the act could have turned out to be completely misleading. Its meaning might seem clear to most people, but not to me, who understood the tricks Napoleon could use when it worked in his favor. It's important to note that Napoleon doesn’t say "he is stepping down from the throne," but rather "he is prepared to step down from the throne." This was a tactic he used to start new talks about the structure and terms of his son's Regency if the Allied leaders agreed to that idea. This would have given him a way to buy more time.







      He had not yet resigned all hope, and therefore he joyfully received a
      piece of intelligence communicated to him by General Allix. The General
      informed the Emperor that he had met an Austrian officer who was sent by
      Francis II. to Prince Schwartzenberg, and who positively assured him that
      all which had taken place in Paris was contrary to the wish of the Emperor
      of Austria. That this may have been the opinion of the officer is
      possible, and even probable. But it is certain from the issue of a mission
      of the Duc de Cadore (Champagny), of which I shall presently speak, that
      the officer expressed merely his own personal opinion. However, as soon as
      General Allix had communicated this good news, as he termed it, to
      Napoleon, the latter exclaimed to the persons who were about him, "I told
      you so, gentlemen. Francis II. cannot carry his enmity so far as to
      dethrone his daughter. Vicenza, go and desire the Marshals to return my
      act of abdication. I will send a courier to the Emperor of Austria."
    
He hadn’t given up all hope yet, so he happily received some news from General Allix. The General told the Emperor that he had met an Austrian officer sent by Francis II to Prince Schwartzenberg, who confidently assured him that everything happening in Paris was against the wishes of the Emperor of Austria. While it’s possible—and probably likely—that this was the officer's opinion, it became clear from a later mission by the Duc de Cadore (Champagny), which I will discuss shortly, that the officer was only sharing his personal views. However, as soon as General Allix shared this good news, as he called it, with Napoleon, the Emperor said to those around him, "I told you so, gentlemen. Francis II. can't let his hostility go so far as to dethrone his daughter. Vicenza, go and ask the Marshals to return my act of abdication. I will send a courier to the Emperor of Austria."







      Thus Bonaparte in his shipwreck looked round for a saving plank, and tried
      to nurse himself in illusions. The Duke of Vicenza went to Marshals Ney
      and Macdonald, whom he found just stepping into a carriage to proceed to
      Paris. Both positively refused to return the act to Caulaincourt, saying,
      "We are sure of the concurrence of the Emperor of Austria, and we take
      everything upon ourselves." The result proved that they were better
      informed than General Allix.
    
Thus, Bonaparte, in his moment of crisis, looked for a way to stay afloat and tried to comfort himself with false hopes. The Duke of Vicenza approached Marshals Ney and Macdonald, who were just getting into a carriage to head to Paris. Both firmly refused to relay the message to Caulaincourt, saying, "We’re confident in the support of the Emperor of Austria, and we’ll take full responsibility." The outcome showed that they had more accurate information than General Allix.







      During the conversation with Marshal Macdonald which has just been
      described the Emperor was seated. When he came to the resolution of
      signing the abdication he arose and walked once or twice up and down his
      cabinet. After he had written and signed the act he said, "Gentlemen, the
      interests of my son, the interests of the army, and above all, the
      interests of France, must be defended. I therefore appoint as my
      commissioners to the Allied powers the Duke of Vicenza, the Prince of the
      Moskowa, and the Duke of Ragusa. . . . Are you satisfied?" added he, after
      a pause. "I think these interests are consigned to good hands." All
      present answered, as with one voice. "Yes, Sire." But no sooner was this
      answer pronounced than the Emperor threw himself upon a small yellow sofa,
      which stood near the window, and striking his thigh with his hand with a
      sort of convulsive motion, he exclaimed, "No, gentlemen: I will have no
      Regency! With my Guards and Marmont's corps I shall be in Paris
      to-morrow." Ney and Macdonald vainly endeavoured to undeceive him
      respecting this impracticable design. He rose with marked ill-humour, and
      rubbing his head, as he was in the habit of doing when agitated, he said
      in a loud and authoritative tone, "Retire."
    
During the conversation with Marshal Macdonald that has just been described, the Emperor was seated. When he decided to sign the abdication, he stood up and walked back and forth in his office. After he had written and signed the document, he said, "Gentlemen, the interests of my son, the army, and most importantly, France, must be protected. I am appointing the Duke of Vicenza, the Prince of Moskowa, and the Duke of Ragusa as my commissioners to the Allied powers. . . . Are you satisfied?" he added after a pause. "I believe these interests are in good hands." Everyone present responded in unison, "Yes, Sire." But as soon as this answer was given, the Emperor threw himself onto a small yellow sofa near the window, and, hitting his thigh with his hand in a sort of convulsive motion, he exclaimed, "No, gentlemen: I will not have a Regency! With my Guards and Marmont's corps, I will be in Paris tomorrow." Ney and Macdonald tried in vain to change his mind about this unrealistic plan. He rose in obvious frustration, and rubbing his head, which was his habit when agitated, he said in a loud, commanding voice, "Leave."







      The Marshals withdrew, and Napoleon was left alone with Caulaincourt. He
      told the latter that what had most displeased him in the proceedings which
      had just taken place was the reading of Beurnonville's letter. "Sire,"
      observed the Duke of Vicenza, "it was by your order that the letter was
      read."—"That is true. . . . But why was it not addressed directly to
      me by Macdonald?"—"Sire, the letter was at first addressed to
      Marshal Macdonald, but the aide de camp who was the bearer of it had
      orders to communicate its contents to Marmont on passing through Essonne,
      because Beurnonville did not precisely know where Macdonald would be
      found." After this brief explanation the Emperor appeared satisfied, and
      he said to Caulaincourt, "Vicenza, call back Macdonald."
    
The Marshals left, leaving Napoleon alone with Caulaincourt. He told Caulaincourt that what upset him the most about the recent events was the reading of Beurnonville's letter. "Sire," the Duke of Vicenza noted, "it was by your command that the letter was read." — "That's true... But why wasn't it addressed directly to me by Macdonald?" — "Sire, the letter was initially addressed to Marshal Macdonald, but the aide-de-camp delivering it was instructed to share its contents with Marmont while passing through Essonne, as Beurnonville wasn't sure where Macdonald would be." After this brief explanation, the Emperor seemed satisfied, and he said to Caulaincourt, "Vicenza, call Macdonald back."







      The Duke of Vicenza hastened after the Marshal, whom he found at the end
      of the gallery of the Palace, and he brought him back to the Emperor. When
      Macdonald returned to the cabinet the Emperor's warmth had entirely
      subsided, and he said to him with great composure, "Well, Duke of
      Tarantum, do you think that the Regency is the only possible thing?"—
      "Yes, Sire."—"Then I wish you to go with Ney to the Emperor
      Alexander, instead of Marmont; it is better that he should remain with his
      corps, to which his presence is indispensable. You will therefore go with
      Ney. I rely on you. I hope you have entirely forgotten all that has
      separated us for so long a time."—"Yes, Sire, I have not thought of
      it since 1809."—"I am glad of it, Marshal, and I must acknowledge to
      you that I was in the wrong." While speaking to the Marshal the Emperor
      manifested unusual emotion. He approached him and pressed his hand in the
      most affectionate way.
    
The Duke of Vicenza rushed after the Marshal, who he found at the end of the gallery in the Palace, and brought him back to the Emperor. When Macdonald returned to the office, the Emperor's warmth had completely faded, and he said to him calmly, "Well, Duke of Tarantum, do you think that the Regency is the only solution?"—"Yes, Sire."—"Then I want you to go with Ney to Emperor Alexander instead of Marmont; it's better for him to stay with his corps, where his presence is essential. So, you'll go with Ney. I trust you. I hope you've completely forgotten everything that has kept us apart for so long."—"Yes, Sire, I haven't thought about it since 1809."—"I'm pleased to hear that, Marshal, and I must admit that I was wrong." While talking to the Marshal, the Emperor showed unusual emotion. He moved closer and held his hand in the most affectionate way.







      The Emperor's three Commissioners—that is to say, Marshals Macdonald
      and Ney and the Duke of Vicenza had informed Marmont that they would dine
      with him as they passed through Essonne, and would acquaint him with all
      that had happened at Fontainebleau. On their arrival at Essonne the three
      Imperial Commissioners explained to the Duc of Ragusa the object of their
      mission, and persuaded him to accompany them to the Emperor Alexander.
      This obliged the Marshal to inform them how he was situated. The
      negotiations which Marmont had opened and almost concluded with Prince
      Schwartzenberg were rendered void by the mission which he had joined, and
      which it was necessary he should himself explain to the Commander of the
      Austrian army. The three Marshals and the Duke of Vicenza repaired to
      Petit Bourg, the headquarters of Prince Schwartzenberg, and there the
      Prince released Marmont from the promise he had given.
    
The Emperor's three Commissioners—Marshals Macdonald, Ney, and the Duke of Vicenza—told Marmont that they would have dinner with him as they passed through Essonne and update him on everything that had happened at Fontainebleau. When they arrived in Essonne, the three Imperial Commissioners explained their mission to the Duke of Ragusa and convinced him to join them to meet Emperor Alexander. This meant the Marshal had to inform them of his situation. The negotiations Marmont had started and nearly finished with Prince Schwartzenberg were invalidated by the mission he had become part of, which he needed to explain to the Commander of the Austrian army. The three Marshals and the Duke of Vicenza went to Petit Bourg, the headquarters of Prince Schwartzenberg, where the Prince released Marmont from the promise he had made.








 


 




















      CHAPTER XXXVI.
    



      1814.
    
1814.


   Unexpected receipts in the Post-office Department—Arrival of
   Napoleon's Commissioners at M. de Talleyrand's—Conference of the
   Marshals with Alexander—Alarming news from Essonne—Marmont's
   courage—The white cockade and the tri-coloured cockade—
   A successful stratagem—Three Governments in France—The Duc de
   Cadore sent by Maria Louisa to the Emperor of Austria—Maria
   Louisa's proclamation to the French people—Interview between the
   Emperor of Austria and the Duc de Cadore—The Emperor's protestation
   of friendship for Napoleon—M. Metternich and M. Stadion—Maria
   Louisa's departure for Orleans—Blücher's visit to me—Audience of
   the King of Prussia—His Majesty's reception of Berthier, Clarke,
   and myself—Bernadotte in Paris—Cross of the Polar Star presented
   to me by Bernadotte.

   Unexpected receipts in the Post Office Department—Arrival of Napoleon's Commissioners at M. de Talleyrand's—Meeting of the Marshals with Alexander—Worrying news from Essonne—Marmont's bravery—The white cockade and the tricolor cockade—A clever plan—Three governments in France—The Duc de Cadore sent by Maria Louisa to the Emperor of Austria—Maria Louisa's message to the French people—Meeting between the Emperor of Austria and the Duc de Cadore—The Emperor's declaration of friendship for Napoleon—M. Metternich and M. Stadion—Maria Louisa's departure for Orleans—Blücher's visit to me—Audience with the King of Prussia—His Majesty's reception of Berthier, Clarke, and me—Bernadotte in Paris—Cross of the Polar Star presented to me by Bernadotte.







      After my nomination as Director-General of the Post office the business of
      that department proceeded as regularly as before. Having learned that a
      great many intercepted letters had been thrown aside I sent, on the 4th of
      April, an advertisement to the 'Moniteur', stating that the letters to and
      from England or other foreign countries which had been lying at the
      Post-office for more than three years would be forwarded to their
      respective addresses. This produced to the Post-office a receipt of nearly
      300,000 francs, a fact which may afford an idea of the enormous number of
      intercepted letters.
    
After I was appointed Director-General of the Post Office, operations in that department continued as smoothly as before. I discovered that many intercepted letters had been set aside, so on April 4th, I published an announcement in the 'Moniteur' stating that letters to and from England or other foreign countries that had been at the Post Office for over three years would be sent to their intended addresses. This resulted in the Post Office receiving nearly 300,000 francs, which gives an idea of the huge number of intercepted letters.







      On the night after the publication of the advertisement I was awakened by
      an express from the Provisional Government, by which I was requested to
      proceed with all possible haste to M. de Talleyrand's hotel. I rose, and I
      set off immediately, and I got there some minutes before the arrival of
      the Emperor's Commissioners. I went up to the salon on the first floor,
      which was one of the suite of apartments occupied by the Emperor
      Alexander. The Marshals retired to confer with the monarch, and it would
      be difficult to describe the anxiety—or, I may rather say,
      consternation—which, during their absence, prevailed among some of
      the members of the Provisional Government and other persons assembled in
      the salon where I was.
    
On the night after the ad came out, I was woken up by a message from the Provisional Government, asking me to rush over to M. de Talleyrand's hotel. I got up and left right away, arriving a few minutes before the Emperor's Commissioners showed up. I went up to the salon on the first floor, which was part of the apartments occupied by Emperor Alexander. The Marshals went off to meet with the monarch, and it’s hard to describe the anxiety—or, I should say, the panic—that filled the room among some members of the Provisional Government and others gathered in the salon while they were gone.







      While the Marshals were with Alexander, I learned that they had previously
      conversed with M. de Talleyrand, who observed to them, "If you succeed in
      your designs you will compromise all who have met in this hotel since the
      1st of April, and the number is not small. For my part, take no account of
      me, I am willing to be compromised." I had passed the evening of this day
      with M. de Talleyrand, who then observed to the Emperor Alexander in my
      presence, "Will you support Bonaparte? No, you neither can nor will. I
      have already had the honour to tell your Majesty that we can have no
      choice but between Bonaparte and Louis XVIII.; anything else would be an
      intrigue, and no intrigue can have power to support him who may be its
      object. Bernadotte, Eugène, the Regency, all those propositions result
      from intrigues. In present circumstances nothing but a new principle is
      sufficiently strong to establish the new order of things which must be
      adopted. Louis XVIII. is a principle."
    
While the Marshals were with Alexander, I learned that they had previously talked with M. de Talleyrand, who told them, "If you succeed in your plans, you'll put everyone who has been at this hotel since April 1 at risk, and there are quite a few. As for me, don't worry about me; I’m okay with being compromised." I spent the evening of that day with M. de Talleyrand, who then said to Emperor Alexander in my presence, "Will you back Bonaparte? No, you can’t and you won’t. I’ve already had the honor of telling your Majesty that we have no choice between Bonaparte and Louis XVIII; anything else would just be a scheme, and no scheme can support the person it targets. Bernadotte, Eugène, the Regency—those proposals come from schemes. In the current situation, only a new principle is strong enough to establish the new order that we need. Louis XVIII. is a principle."







      None of the members of the Provisional Government were present at this
      conference, for no one was willing to appear to influence in any way the
      determination of the chief of the coalition upon the subject of this
      important mission. General Dessolles alone, in quality of commander of the
      National Guard of Paris, was requested to be present. At length the
      Marshals entered the salon where we were, and their appearance created a
      sensation which it is impossible to describe; but the expression of
      dissatisfaction which we thought we remarked in their countenances
      restored the hopes of those who for some hours had been a prey to
      apprehensions. Macdonald, with his head elevated, and evidently under the
      influence of strong irritation, approached Beurnonville, and thus
      addressed him, in answer to a question which the latter had put to him.
      "Speak not to me, sir; I have nothing to say to you. You have made me
      forget a friendship of thirty years!" Then turning to Dupont, "As for you,
      sir," he continued in the same tone, "your conduct towards the Emperor is
      not generous. I confess that he has treated you with severity, perhaps he
      may even have been unjust to you with respect to the affair of Baylen, but
      how long has it been the practice to avenge a personal wrong at the
      expense of one's country?"
    
None of the members of the Provisional Government attended this conference, as no one wanted to seem like they were trying to sway the coalition leader regarding this crucial mission. Only General Dessolles, as the commander of the National Guard of Paris, was asked to be there. Finally, the Marshals entered the room where we were, and their presence sparked a reaction that is hard to describe; however, the look of displeasure we thought we saw on their faces gave hope to those who had been anxious for hours. Macdonald, with his head held high and clearly agitated, approached Beurnonville and responded to a question he was asked, "Don't talk to me, sir; I have nothing to say to you. You've made me forget a friendship of thirty years!" Turning to Dupont, he continued in the same tone, "As for you, sir, your behavior towards the Emperor is not honorable. I admit he has been hard on you; he may even have been unfair regarding the Baylen situation, but when did it become acceptable to settle a personal grievance at the expense of the country?"







      These remarks were made with such warmth, and in so elevated a tone of
      voice, that Caulaincourt thought it necessary to interfere, and said, "Do
      not forget, gentlemen, that this is the residence of the Emperor of
      Russia." At this moment M. de Talleyrand returned from the interview with
      the Emperor which he had had after the departure of the Marshals, and
      approaching the group formed round Macdonald, "Gentlemen," said he, "if
      you wish to dispute and discuss, step down to my apartments."— "That
      would be useless," replied Macdonald; "my comrades and I do not
      acknowledge the Provisional Government." The three Marshals, Ney,
      Macdonald, and Marmont, then immediately retired with Caulaincourt, and
      went to Ney's hotel, there to await the answer which the Emperor Alexander
      had promised to give them after consulting the King of Prussia.
    
These comments were delivered with such warmth and in such an elevated tone that Caulaincourt felt it necessary to step in and said, "Let’s not forget, gentlemen, that this is the home of the Emperor of Russia." At that moment, M. de Talleyrand returned from his meeting with the Emperor that he had after the Marshals left, and as he approached the group gathered around Macdonald, he said, "Gentlemen, if you want to argue and discuss, come down to my rooms."— "That would be pointless," Macdonald replied; "my comrades and I do not recognize the Provisional Government." The three Marshals, Ney, Macdonald, and Marmont, then immediately left with Caulaincourt and went to Ney's hotel to wait for the answer that Emperor Alexander had promised to provide them after speaking with the King of Prussia.







      Such was this night-scene; which possessed more dramatic effect than many
      which are performed on the stage. In it all was real: on its denouement
      depended the political state of France, and the existence of all those who
      had already declared themselves in favour of the Bourbons. It is a
      remarkable fact, and one which affords a striking lesson to men who are
      tempted to sacrifice themselves for any political cause, that most of
      those who then demanded the restoration of the Bourbons at the peril of
      their lives have successively fallen into disgrace.
    
This was the scene of the night, which had more dramatic impact than many performances on stage. Everything in it was real: the political future of France and the fate of everyone who had already supported the Bourbons depended on its outcome. It’s noteworthy, and serves as a powerful lesson for those tempted to put their lives on the line for a political cause, that most of those who then called for the return of the Bourbons at great personal risk have since fallen out of favor.







      When the Marshals and Caulaincourt had retired we were all anxious to know
      what had passed between them and the Emperor of Russia. I learned from
      Dessolles, who, as I have stated, was present at the conference in his
      rank of commander of the National Guard of Paris, that the Marshals were
      unanimous in urging Alexander to accede to a Regency. Macdonald especially
      supported that proposition with much warmth; and among the observations he
      made I recollect Dessolles mentioned the following:— "I am not
      authorised to treat in any way for the fate reserved for the Emperor. We
      have full powers to treat for the Regency, the army, and France; but the
      Emperor has positively forbidden us to specify anything personally
      regarding himself." Alexander merely replied, "That does not astonish me."
      The Marshals then, resuming the conversation, dwelt much on the respect
      which was due to the military glory of France. They strongly manifested
      their disinclination to abandon the family of a man who had so often led
      them to victory; and lastly, they reminded the Emperor Alexander of his
      own declaration, in which he proclaimed, in his own name as well as on the
      part of his Allies, that it was not their intention to impose on France
      any government whatever.
    
When the Marshals and Caulaincourt left, we were all eager to find out what had been discussed between them and the Emperor of Russia. I learned from Dessolles, who, as I mentioned, was there at the meeting in his role as commander of the National Guard of Paris, that the Marshals were all in agreement in urging Alexander to accept a Regency. Macdonald especially pushed for this idea passionately, and among the points he made, I remember Dessolles mentioning the following: “I am not authorized to negotiate anything regarding the fate of the Emperor. We have full authority to discuss the Regency, the army, and France; but the Emperor has strictly forbidden us from discussing anything personal about him.” Alexander simply replied, “That doesn’t surprise me.” The Marshals then continued the conversation, emphasizing the respect that was owed to the military honor of France. They clearly expressed their unwillingness to abandon the family of a man who had so often led them to victory; and finally, they reminded Emperor Alexander of his own statement, in which he declared, both on his own behalf and on behalf of his Allies, that it was not their intention to impose any government on France.







      Dessolles, who had all along declared himself in favour of the Bourbons,
      in his turn entered into the discussion with as much warmth as the
      partisans of the Regency. He represented to Alexander how many persons
      would be compromised for merely having acted or declared their opinions
      behind the shield of his promises. He repeated what Alexander had already
      been told, that the Regency would, in fact, be nothing but Bonaparte in
      disguise. However, Dessolles acknowledged that such was the effect of
      Marshal Macdonald's powerful and persuasive eloquence that Alexander
      seemed to waver; and, unwilling to give the Marshals a positive refusal,
      he had recourse to a subterfuge, by which he would be enabled to execute
      the design he had irrevocably formed without seeming to take on himself
      alone the responsibility of a change of government. Dessolles accordingly
      informed us that Alexander at last gave the following answer to the
      Marshals: "Gentlemen, I am not alone; in an affair of such importance I
      must consult the King of Prussia, for I have promised to do nothing
      without consulting him. In a few hours you shall know my decision." It was
      this decision which the Marshals went to wait for at Ney's.
    
Dessolles, who had always declared his support for the Bourbons, joined the discussion with as much enthusiasm as the supporters of the Regency. He pointed out to Alexander how many people would be at risk just for having acted or expressed their opinions based on his promises. He reiterated what Alexander had already heard, that the Regency would really just be Bonaparte in disguise. However, Dessolles acknowledged that Marshal Macdonald's powerful and persuasive speech seemed to make Alexander hesitate; not wanting to give the Marshals a clear no, he resorted to a clever strategy that would let him carry out his firm plan without solely assuming the responsibility of a government change. Dessolles then informed us that Alexander eventually responded to the Marshals: "Gentlemen, I am not acting alone; in a matter as significant as this, I must consult the King of Prussia, as I have promised to do nothing without his input. You will know my decision in a few hours." It was this decision that the Marshals waited for at Ney's.







      Most of the members of the Provisional Government attributed the evasive
      reply of the Emperor Alexander to the influence of the speech of
      Dessolles. For my part, while I do justice to the manner in which he
      declared himself on this important occasion, I do not ascribe to his
      eloquence the power of fixing Alexander's resolution, for I well know by
      experience how easy it is to make princes appear to adopt the advice of
      any one when the counsel given is precisely that which they wish to
      follow. From the sentiments of Alexander at this time I had not the
      slightest doubt as to the course he would finally pursue, and I considered
      what he said about consulting the King of Prussia to be merely a polite
      excuse, by which he avoided the disagreeable task of giving the Marshals a
      direct refusal.
    
Most of the members of the Provisional Government thought that Emperor Alexander's vague response was influenced by Dessolles' speech. Personally, while I acknowledge how well he expressed himself on this important occasion, I don't think his eloquence was what shaped Alexander's decision. I know from experience how easy it is for princes to seem like they’re adopting someone’s advice when the advice given is exactly what they want to hear. I had no doubt about Alexander's true intentions at this time, and I figured that his mention of consulting the King of Prussia was just a polite way to avoid the awkwardness of directly turning down the Marshals.







      I therefore returned home quite satisfied as to the result of the Emperor
      Alexander's visit to the King of Prussia. I knew, from the persons about
      the Czar, that he cherished a hatred, which was but too well justified,
      towards Bonaparte. Frederick William is of too firm a character to have
      yielded to any of the considerations which might on this subject have been
      pressed on him as they had been on the Emperor of Russia. But, besides
      that the King of Prussia had legitimate reasons for disliking Napoleon,
      policy would at that time have required that he should appear to be his
      enemy, for to do so was to render himself popular with his subjects. But
      the King of Prussia did not need to act under the dictates of policy; he
      followed his own opinion in rejecting the propositions of the Marshals,
      which he did without hesitation, and with much energy.
    
I went home feeling pretty good about how Emperor Alexander's visit to the King of Prussia turned out. I heard from those close to the Czar that he had a strong and justified hatred for Bonaparte. Frederick William had too strong of a character to give in to any arguments on this topic like the Emperor of Russia did. Plus, the King of Prussia had solid reasons to dislike Napoleon, and at that time, it was politically smart for him to seem like Napoleon's enemy since that would win him support from his people. However, the King of Prussia didn't need to act out of political motives; he trusted his own judgment and rejected the Marshals' proposals without any hesitation and with a lot of determination.







      While the Marshals had gone to Paris Bonaparte was anxious to ascertain
      whether his Commissioners had passed the advanced posts of the foreign
      armies, and in case of resistance he determined to march on Paris, for he
      could not believe that he had lost every chance. He sent an aide de camp
      to desire Marmont to come immediately to Fontainebleau: such was
      Napoleon's impatience that instead of waiting for the return of his aide
      de camp he sent off a second and then a third officer on the same errand.
      This rapid succession of envoys from the Emperor alarmed the general who
      commanded the different divisions of Marmont's corps at Essonne. They
      feared that the Emperor was aware of the Convention concluded that morning
      with Prince Schwartzenberg, and that he had sent for Marmont with the view
      of reprimanding him. The fact was, Napoleon knew nothing of the matter,
      for Marmont, on departing for Paris with Macdonald and Ney, had left
      orders that it should be said that he had gone to inspect his lines.
      Souham; Lebrun des Essarts, and Bordessoulle, who had given their assent
      to the Convention with Prince Schwartzenberg, deliberated in the absence
      of Marmont, and, perhaps being ignorant that he was released from his
      promise, and fearing the vengeance of Napoleon, they determined to march
      upon Versailles. On arriving there the troops not finding the Marshal at
      their head thought themselves betrayed, and a spirit of insurrection broke
      out among them. One of Marmont's aides de camp, whom he had left at
      Essonne, exerted every endeavour to prevent the departure of his general's
      corps, but, finding all his efforts unavailing, he hastened to Paris to
      inform the Marshal of what had happened. 'When Marmont received this news
      he was breakfasting at Ney's with Macdonald and Caulaincourt: they were
      waiting for the answer which the Emperor Alexander had promised to send
      them. The march of his corps on Versailles threw Marmont into despair. He
      said to the Marshals, "I must be off to join my corps and quell this
      mutiny;" and without losing a moment he ordered his carriage and directed
      the coachman to drive with the utmost speed. He sent forward one of his
      aides de camp to inform the troops of his approach.
    
While the Marshals were in Paris, Bonaparte was eager to find out if his Commissioners had crossed the advanced positions of the foreign armies, and if they faced any resistance, he planned to march on Paris because he couldn't believe he had lost all his chances. He sent an aide-de-camp to ask Marmont to come immediately to Fontainebleau: Napoleon’s impatience was such that instead of waiting for his aide’s return, he dispatched a second and then a third officer with the same message. This rapid succession of messengers from the Emperor alarmed the general in charge of the various divisions of Marmont's corps at Essonne. They feared that the Emperor was aware of the agreement made that morning with Prince Schwartzenberg and that he had summoned Marmont to reprimand him. The truth was, Napoleon knew nothing about it because Marmont, when leaving for Paris with Macdonald and Ney, had given instructions that it be said he had gone to inspect his lines. Souham, Lebrun des Essarts, and Bordessoulle, who had agreed to the Convention with Prince Schwartzenberg, met to discuss matters in Marmont's absence and, perhaps unaware that he was released from his promise and fearing Napoleon's wrath, decided to march on Versailles. When they arrived and did not find the Marshal leading them, the troops felt betrayed, and a spirit of insurrection emerged among them. One of Marmont's aides-de-camp, whom he had left at Essonne, did everything he could to stop the departure of his general's corps, but when all his efforts failed, he rushed to Paris to inform the Marshal about what had happened. When Marmont received this news, he was having breakfast with Ney, Macdonald, and Caulaincourt: they were waiting for the reply that Emperor Alexander had promised to send them. The march of his corps on Versailles plunged Marmont into despair. He said to the Marshals, "I have to go join my corps and put this mutiny down;" and without wasting a moment, he ordered his carriage and told the coachman to drive as fast as possible. He sent one of his aides-de-camp ahead to notify the troops of his approach.







      Having arrived within a hundred paces of the place where his troops were
      assembled he found the generals who were under his orders advancing to
      meet him. They urged him not to go farther, as the men were in open
      insurrection. "I will go into the midst of them," said Marmont. "In a
      moment they shall either kill me or acknowledge me as their chief:" He
      sent off another aide de camp to range the troops in the order of battle.
      Then, alighting from the carriage and mounting a horse, he advanced alone,
      and thus harangued his troops: "How! Is there treason here? Is it possible
      that you disown me? Am I not your comrade? Have I not been wounded twenty
      times among you? . . . Have I not shared your fatigues and privations? And
      am I not ready to do so again?" Here Marmont was interrupted by a general
      shout of "Vive le Marechal! Vive le Marechal!"
    
Having arrived within a hundred steps of where his troops were gathered, he found the generals under his command coming to meet him. They urged him not to go any further, as the men were in open revolt. "I will go right into the middle of them," said Marmont. "In a moment they will either kill me or recognize me as their leader." He sent off another aide-de-camp to organize the troops for battle. Then, getting out of the carriage and mounting a horse, he approached alone and addressed his troops: "What’s going on? Is there treason here? Is it possible that you deny me? Am I not your comrade? Have I not been wounded twenty times amongst you? . . . Have I not shared your hardships and struggles? And am I not ready to do so again?" At this point, Marmont was met with a loud shout of "Long live the Marshal! Long live the Marshal!"







      The alarm caused among the members of the Provisional Government by the
      mission of the Marshals was increased by the news of the mutiny of
      Marmont's troops. During the whole of the day we were in a state of
      tormenting anxiety. It was feared that the insurrectionary spirit might
      spread among other corps of the army, and the cause of France again be
      endangered. But the courage of Marmont saved everything: It would be
      impossible to convey any idea of the manner in which he was received by us
      at Talleyrand's when he related the particulars of what had occurred at
      Versailles.
    
The alarm among the members of the Provisional Government was heightened by the news of the mutiny of Marmont's troops. Throughout the day, we were in a state of anxious torment. There was a concern that the rebellious spirit might spread to other parts of the army, putting France's cause in jeopardy once again. But Marmont's bravery saved the day: it's hard to describe how we welcomed him at Talleyrand's when he shared the details of what had happened at Versailles.







      On the evening of the day on which Marmont had acted so nobly it was
      proposed that the army should adopt the white cockade. In reply to this
      proposition the Marshal said, "Gentlemen, I have made my troops understand
      the necessity of serving France before all things. They have,
      consequently, returned to order, and I can now answer for them. But what I
      cannot answer for is to induce them to abandon the colours which have led
      them to victory for the last twenty years. Therefore do not count upon me
      for a thing which I consider to be totally hostile to the interests of
      France. I will speak to the Emperor Alexander on the subject." Such were
      Marmont's words. Every one appeared to concur in his opinion, and the
      discussion terminated. For my own part, I find by my notes that I declared
      myself strongly in favour of Marmont's proposition.
    
On the evening after Marmont had acted so honorably, it was suggested that the army adopt the white cockade. In response to this suggestion, the Marshal said, "Gentlemen, I have made my troops understand that serving France must come first. They have, therefore, returned to order, and I can now vouch for them. But what I cannot do is persuade them to give up the colors that have brought them victory for the last twenty years. So don't count on me for something I believe goes against the interests of France. I will bring this up with Emperor Alexander." Those were Marmont's words. Everyone seemed to agree with his viewpoint, and the discussion ended. Personally, I noted that I strongly supported Marmont's position.







      The Marshal's opinion having been adopted, at least provisionally, an
      article was prepared for the Moniteur in nearly the following terms:
    
The Marshal's opinion was accepted, at least for now, and an article was written for the Moniteur in almost the following wording:






   The white cockade has been, during the last four days, a badge for
   the manifestation of public opinion in favour of the overthrow of an
   oppressive Government: it has been the only means of distinguishing
   the partisans of the restoration of the old dynasty, to which at
   length we are to be indebted for repose. But as the late Government
   is at an end, all colours differing from our national colours are
   useless: let us, therefore, resume those which have so often led us
   to victory.

   The white cockade has been a symbol for the last four days, representing public support for the overthrow of a repressive government: it has been the only way to identify those who want to restore the old monarchy, which we can finally thank for bringing peace. But now that the former government is gone, any colors that aren't our national colors are pointless: so let’s go back to the ones that have often brought us victory.







      Such was the spirit of the article, though possibly the above copy may
      differ in a few words. It met with the unqualified approbation of every
      one present. I was therefore extremely surprised, on looking at the
      'Moniteur' next day, to find that the article was not inserted. I knew not
      what courtly interference prevented the appearance of the article, but I
      remember that Marmont was very ill pleased at its omission. He complained
      on the subject to the Emperor Alexander, who promised to write, and in
      fact did write, to the Provisional Government to get the article inserted.
      However, it did not appear, and in a few days we obtained a solution of
      the enigma, as we might perhaps have done before if we had tried. The
      Emperor Alexander also promised to write to the Comte d'Artois, and to
      inform him that the opinion of France was in favour of the preservation of
      the three colours, but I do not know whether the letter was written, or,
      if it was, what answer it received.
    
That was the feeling of the article, although the wording above might vary a bit. Everyone present fully supported it. So I was really surprised when I looked at the 'Moniteur' the next day and saw that the article hadn’t been published. I didn’t know what sort of royal interference stopped the article from appearing, but I remember that Marmont was very unhappy about its omission. He brought it up with Emperor Alexander, who promised to write and actually did write to the Provisional Government to get the article published. However, it still didn’t show up, and a few days later we figured out the mystery, as we probably could have done earlier if we had tried. Emperor Alexander also said he would write to Comte d'Artois to let him know that the opinion in France was in favor of keeping the three colors, but I’m not sure if that letter was ever sent, or if it was, what response it got.







      Marshal Jourdan, who was then at Rouen, received a letter, written without
      the knowledge of Marmont, informing him that the latter had mounted the
      white cockade in his corps. Jourdan thought he could not do otherwise than
      follow Marmont's example, and he announced to the Provisional Government
      that in consequence of the resolution of the Duke of Ragusa he had just
      ordered his corps to wear the white cockade. Marmont could now be boldly
      faced, and when he complained to the Provisional Government of the
      non-insertion of the article in the Moniteur the reply was, "It cannot now
      appear. You see Marshal Jourdan has mounted the white cockade: you would
      not give the army two sets of colours!"
    
Marshal Jourdan, who was in Rouen at the time, received a letter, written without Marmont's knowledge, informing him that Marmont had adopted the white cockade for his corps. Jourdan felt he had no choice but to follow Marmont's lead, so he notified the Provisional Government that due to the Duke of Ragusa's decision, he had ordered his corps to wear the white cockade as well. Now, Marmont could be confronted directly, and when he complained to the Provisional Government about the article not being published in the Moniteur, their response was, "It can't be published now. You see Marshal Jourdan has adopted the white cockade: we wouldn't give the army two different sets of colors!"







      Marmont could make no answer to so positive a fact. It was not till some
      time after that I learned Jourdan had determined to unfurl the white flag
      only on the positive assurance that Marmont had already done so. Thus we
      lost the colours which had been worn by Louis XVI., which Louis XVIII.,
      when a Prince, had adopted, and in which the Comte d'Artois showed himself
      on his return to the Parisians, for he entered the capital in the uniform
      of the National Guard. The fraud played off by some members of the
      Provisional Government was attended by fatal consequences; many evils
      might have been spared to France had Marmont's advice been adopted.
    
Marmont couldn't respond to such a definite fact. It wasn't until later that I found out Jourdan had decided to raise the white flag only after getting confirmation that Marmont had already done it. As a result, we lost the colors that had been worn by Louis XVI., which Louis XVIII., as a Prince, had adopted, and in which the Comte d'Artois appeared when he returned to the Parisians, as he entered the capital in the uniform of the National Guard. The deception carried out by some members of the Provisional Government had serious consequences; many troubles could have been avoided for France if Marmont's advice had been followed.







      At the period of the dissolution of the Empire there might be said to be
      three Governments in France, viz. the Provisional Government in Paris,
      Napoleon's at Fontainebleau, and the doubtful and ambulatory Regency of
      "Maria Louisa." Doubtful and ambulatory the Regency might well be called,
      for there was so little decision as to the course to be adopted by the
      Empress that it was at first proposed to conduct her to Orleans, then to
      Tours, and she went finally to Blois. The uncertainty which prevailed
      respecting the destiny of Maria Louisa is proved by a document which I
      have in my possession, and of which there cannot be many copies in
      existence. It is a circular addressed to the prefects by M. de Montalivet,
      the Minister of the Interior, who accompanied the Empress. In it a blank
      is left for the seat of the Government, to which the prefects are desired
      to send their communications. In the copy I possess the blank is filled up
      with the word "Blois" in manuscript.
    
At the time of the Empire's collapse, it could be said that there were three governments in France: the Provisional Government in Paris, Napoleon's at Fontainebleau, and the uncertain and shifting Regency of "Maria Louisa." The Regency could indeed be seen as uncertain and shifting, given that there was so little clarity about the direction the Empress should take. At one point, it was suggested she be taken to Orleans, then to Tours, but ultimately she went to Blois. The confusion surrounding Maria Louisa's fate is demonstrated by a document I have, of which there likely aren’t many copies. It’s a circular sent to the prefects by M. de Montalivet, the Minister of the Interior, who traveled with the Empress. In it, there's a blank space left for the location of the government, where the prefects are instructed to send their communications. In my copy, the blank is filled in by hand with the word "Blois."







      As soon as Maria Louisa was made acquainted with the events that had taken
      place around Paris she sent for the Duc de Cadore, and gave him a letter
      addressed to the Emperor of Austria, saying, "Take this to my father, who
      must be at Dijon. I rely on you for defending the interests of France,
      those of the Emperor, and above all those of my son." Certainly Maria
      Louisa's confidence could not be better placed, and those great interests
      would have been defended by the Duc de Cadore 'si defendi possent.'
    
As soon as Maria Louisa learned about what had happened around Paris, she called for the Duc de Cadore and handed him a letter addressed to the Emperor of Austria, saying, "Take this to my father, who must be in Dijon. I trust you to protect the interests of France, those of the Emperor, and most importantly, those of my son." Truly, Maria Louisa's trust was well-placed, and those important interests would have been defended by the Duc de Cadore 'si defendi possent.'







      After the departure of the Duc de Cadore Maria Louisa published the
      following proclamation, addressed to the French people:
    
After the Duc de Cadore left, Maria Louisa issued the following proclamation addressed to the French people:






             BY THE EMPRESS REGENT.

               A Proclamation

   The events of the war have placed the capital in the power of
   foreigners. The Emperor has marched to defend it at the head of his
   armies, so often victorious. They are face to face with the enemy
   before the walls of Paris. From the residence which I have chosen,
   and from the Ministers of the Emperor, will emanate the only orders
   which you can acknowledge. Every town in the power of foreigners
   ceases to be free, and every order which may proceed from them is
   the language of the enemy, or that which it suits his hostile views
   to propagate. You will be faithful to your oaths. You will listen
   to the voice of a Princess who was consigned to your good faith, and
   whose highest pride consists in being a Frenchwoman, and in being
   united to the destiny of the sovereign whom you have freely chosen.
   My son was less sure of your affections in the time of our
   prosperity; his rights and his person are under your safeguard.

   (By order) MONTALIVET.       (Signed) MARIA LOUISA
   BLOIS, 3d April 1814.

             BY THE EMPRESS REGENT.

               A Proclamation

   The war has taken control of the capital away from us. The Emperor is leading our armies, who have won so many battles, to defend it. They are now confronting the enemy outside the walls of Paris. From the residence I have chosen, and with input from the Emperor's Ministers, will come the only orders that you should recognize. Any town under foreign control is no longer free, and any directives that come from them represent the enemy's messages or whatever aligns with their hostile agenda. You will remain loyal to your oaths. You will heed the words of a Princess who relies on your loyalty, and whose utmost pride comes from being a Frenchwoman, bound to the fate of the sovereign you have chosen freely. My son had doubts about your loyalty during our prosperous times; his rights and well-being are in your hands.

   (By order) MONTALIVET.       (Signed) MARIA LOUISA  
   BLOIS, 3rd April 1814.







      It is to be inferred that the Regency had within three days adopted the
      resolution of not quitting Blois, for the above document presents no
      blanks, nor words filled up in writing. The Empress' proclamation, though
      a powerful appeal to the feelings of the French people, produced no
      effect. Maria Louisa's proclamation was dated the 4th of April, on the
      evening of which day Napoleon signed the conditional abdication, with the
      fate of which the reader has already been made acquainted. M. de
      Montalivet transmitted the Empress' proclamation, accompanied by another
      circular, to the prefects, of whom very few received it.
    
It can be inferred that the Regency decided within three days to stay in Blois, as the document shows no blanks or handwritten additions. The Empress's proclamation, although a strong appeal to the emotions of the French people, had no impact. Maria Louisa's proclamation was dated April 4th, the evening on which Napoleon signed the conditional abdication, the details of which the reader is already familiar with. M. de Montalivet sent the Empress's proclamation along with another circular to the prefects, but very few of them received it.







      M. de Champagny, having left Blois with the letter he had received from
      the Empress, proceeded to the headquarters of the Emperor of Austria,
      carefully avoiding those roads which were occupied by Cossack troops. He
      arrived, not without considerable difficulty, at Chanseaux, where Frances
      II. was expected. When the Emperor arrived the Duc de Cadore was
      announced, and immediately introduced to his Majesty. The Duke remained
      some hours with Francis II., without being able to obtain from him
      anything but fair protestations. The Emperor always took refuge behind the
      promise he had given to his Allies to approve whatever measures they might
      adopt. The Duke was not to leave the Emperor's headquarters that evening,
      and, in the hope that his Majesty might yet reflect on the critical
      situation of his daughter, he asked permission to take leave next morning.
      He accordingly presented himself to the Emperor's levee, when he renewed
      his efforts in support of the claims of Maria Louisa. "I have a great
      affection for my daughter, and also for my son-in law," said the Emperor.
      "I bear them both in my heart, and would shed my blood for them"—"Ah,
      Sire!" exclaimed M. de Champagny, "such a sacrifice is not necessary."—"Yes,
      Duke, I say again I would shed my blood, I would resign my life for them,
      but I have given my Allies a promise not to treat without them, and to
      approve all that they may do. Besides," added the Emperor, "my Minister,
      M. de Metternich, has gone to their headquarters, and I will ratify
      whatever he may sign."
    
M. de Champagny left Blois with the letter he’d received from the Empress and made his way to the Emperor of Austria's headquarters, carefully avoiding roads occupied by Cossack troops. He arrived, not without significant difficulties, at Chanseaux, where Francis II. was expected. When the Emperor arrived, the Duc de Cadore was announced and immediately introduced to his Majesty. The Duke spent several hours with Francis II., but could only get polite assurances from him. The Emperor consistently hid behind the promise he made to his Allies to endorse any actions they decided on. The Duke was not allowed to leave the Emperor's headquarters that evening, and hoping that his Majesty might reconsider the critical situation of his daughter, he asked to take his leave the next morning. He showed up at the Emperor's levee, where he renewed his efforts to support Maria Louisa's claims. "I have a great affection for my daughter, and also for my son-in-law," the Emperor said. "I hold them both dear and would sacrifice my life for them." "Ah, Sire!" M. de Champagny exclaimed, "such a sacrifice isn’t needed." "Yes, Duke, I repeat, I would give my blood, I would lay down my life for them, but I promised my Allies not to negotiate without them and to approve all they decide. Besides," the Emperor added, "my Minister, M. de Metternich, has gone to their headquarters, and I will ratify whatever he signs."







      When the Duc de Cadore related to me the particulars of his mission, in
      which zeal could not work an impossibility, I remarked that he regarded as
      a circumstance fatal to Napoleon the absence of M. de Metternich and the
      presence of M. Stadion at the headquarters of the Emperor of Austria.
      Though in all probability nothing could have arrested the course of
      events, yet it is certain that the personal sentiments of the two Austrian
      Ministers towards Napoleon were widely different. I am not going too far
      when I affirm that, policy apart, M. de Metternich was much attached to
      Napoleon. In support of this assertion I may quote a fact of which I can
      guarantee the authenticity:
    
When the Duc de Cadore shared the details of his mission with me, showing that enthusiasm alone couldn't achieve the impossible, I noted that he viewed the absence of M. de Metternich and the presence of M. Stadion at the Emperor of Austria's headquarters as a significant blow to Napoleon. Although it's likely that nothing could have changed the outcome, it's clear that the personal feelings of the two Austrian Ministers towards Napoleon were quite different. I don’t think I’m overstepping when I say that, aside from politics, M. de Metternich had a strong fondness for Napoleon. To back up this claim, I can provide a fact that I can vouch for:







      When M. de Metternich was complimented on the occasion of Maria Louisa's
      marriage he replied, "To have contributed to a measure which has received
      the approbation of 80,000,000 men is indeed a just subject of
      congratulation." Such a remark openly made by the intelligent Minister of
      the Cabinet of Vienna was well calculated to gratify the ears of Napoleon,
      from whom, however, M. de Metternich in his personal relations did not
      conceal the truth. I recollect a reply which was made by M. de Metternich
      at Dresden after a little hesitation. "As to you," said the Emperor, "you
      will not go to war with me. It is impossible that you can declare yourself
      against me. That can never be."—"Sire, we are not now quite allies,
      and some time hence we may become enemies." This hint was the last which
      Napoleon received from Metternich, and Napoleon must have been blind
      indeed not to have profited by it. As to M. Stadion, he entertained a
      profound dislike of the Emperor. That Minister knew and could not forget
      that his preceding exclusion from the Cabinet of Vienna had been due to
      the all-powerful influence of Napoleon.
    
When M. de Metternich was complimented on Maria Louisa's marriage, he replied, "Contributing to a decision that has the approval of 80 million people is definitely a reason to celebrate." Such a comment from the smart Minister of the Vienna Cabinet was sure to please Napoleon, although M. de Metternich didn't hide the truth in his personal dealings with him. I remember a response M. de Metternich made in Dresden after a moment of hesitation. "As for you," the Emperor said, "you won't go to war with me. It's impossible for you to oppose me. That will never happen."—"Sire, we aren't quite allies right now, and at some point, we might become enemies." This was the last hint Napoleon received from Metternich, and he must have been blind not to take it seriously. As for M. Stadion, he held a deep dislike for the Emperor. That Minister knew and couldn't forget that his earlier exclusion from the Vienna Cabinet had been because of Napoleon's overwhelming influence.







      Whether or not the absence of Metternich influenced the resolution of
      Francis II., it is certain that that monarch yielded nothing to the urgent
      solicitations of a Minister who conscientiously fulfilled the delicate
      mission consigned to him. M. de Champagny rejoined the Empress at Orleans,
      whither she had repaired on leaving Blois. He found Maria Louisa almost
      deserted, all the Grand Dignitaries of the Empire having successively
      returned to Paris after sending in their submissions to the Provisional
      Government.
    
Whether or not Metternich's absence affected Francis II.'s decision, it's clear that the monarch did not give in to the urgent requests of a minister who was doing his job with care. M. de Champagny met up with the Empress in Orleans, where she had gone after leaving Blois. He found Maria Louisa nearly alone, as all the top officials of the Empire had gone back to Paris after submitting their resignations to the Provisional Government.







      I had scarcely entered upon the exercise of my functions as
      Postmaster-General when, on the morning of the 2d of April, I was
      surprised to see a Prussian general officer enter my cabinet. I
      immediately recognised him as General Blücher. He had commanded the
      Prussian army in the battle which took place at the gates of Paris. "Sir,"
      said he, "I consider it one of my first duties on entering Paris to thank
      you for the attention I received from you in Hamburg. I am sorry that I
      was not sooner aware of your being in Paris. I assure you that had I been
      sooner informed of this circumstance the capitulation should have been
      made without a blow being struck. How much blood might then have been
      spared!"—"General," said I, "on what do you ground this assurance?"—"If
      I had known that you were in Paris I would have given you a letter to the
      King of Prussia. That monarch, who knows the resources and intentions of
      the Allies, would, I am sure, have authorised you to decide a suspension
      of arms before the neighbourhood of Paris became the theatre of the war."—"But,"
      resumed I, "in spite of the good intentions of the Allies, it would have
      been very difficult to prevent resistance. French pride, irritated as it
      was by reverses, would have opposed insurmountable obstacles to such a
      measure."—"But, good heavens! you would have seen that resistance
      could be of no avail against such immense masses."—"You are right,
      General; but French honour would have been defended to the last."—"I
      am fully aware of that; but surely you have earned glory enough!"—"Yet
      our French susceptibility would have made us look upon that glory as
      tarnished if Paris had been occupied without defence ... But under present
      circumstances I am well pleased that you were satisfied with my conduct in
      Hamburg, for it induces me to hope that you will observe the same
      moderation in Paris that I exercised there. The days are past when it
      could be said, Woe to the conquered."—"You are right; yet," added
      he, smiling, "you know we are called the northern barbarians."—"Then,
      General," returned I, "you have a fair opportunity of showing that that
      designation is a libel."
    
I had just started my role as Postmaster-General when, on the morning of April 2nd, I was surprised to see a Prussian general officer walk into my office. I immediately recognized him as General Blücher. He had led the Prussian army in the battle at the gates of Paris. "Sir," he said, "I consider it one of my first duties upon arriving in Paris to thank you for the attention I received from you in Hamburg. I'm sorry I didn't know you were in Paris sooner. I assure you that if I had known earlier, the capitulation would have happened without a shot being fired. Just think how much blood could have been saved!"—"General," I replied, "on what do you base this assurance?"—"If I had known you were in Paris, I would have given you a letter to the King of Prussia. That king, who understands the resources and intentions of the Allies, would have certainly authorized you to arrange a ceasefire before the area around Paris turned into a war zone."—"But," I said, "even with the best intentions of the Allies, it would have been very hard to prevent resistance. French pride, especially after defeats, would have posed significant obstacles to such an action."—"But, for heaven's sake! you would have seen that resistance would be futile against such overwhelming forces."—"You're right, General; but French honor would have been defended to the last."—"I completely understand that; but surely you have earned enough glory!"—"Yet our French sensitivity would have made us view that glory as diminished if Paris had been taken without a defense ... However, given the current situation, I'm glad you were satisfied with my actions in Hamburg, as it gives me hope that you will show the same restraint in Paris that I did there. The days are gone when we could say, Woe to the conquered."—"You’re right; still," he added with a smile, "you know we’re seen as the northern barbarians."—"Then, General," I responded, "you have a perfect chance to prove that label is a mistake."







      Some days after Blücher's visit I had the honour of being admitted to a
      private audience of the King of Prussia. Clarke and Berthier were also
      received in this audience, which took place at the hotel of Prince Eugène,
      where the King of Prussia resided in Paris. We waited for some minutes in
      the salon, and when Frederick William entered from his cabinet I remarked
      on his countenance an air of embarrassment and austerity which convinced
      me that he had been studying his part, as great personages are in the
      habit of doing on similar occasions. The King on entering the salon first
      noticed Berthier, whom he addressed with much kindness, bestowing praises
      on the French troops, and complimenting the Marshal on his conduct during
      the war in Germany. Berthier returned thanks for these well-merited
      praises, for though he was not remarkable for strength of understanding or
      energy of mind, yet he was not a bad man, and I have known many proofs of
      his good conduct in conquered countries.
    
A few days after Blücher's visit, I had the honor of having a private audience with the King of Prussia. Clarke and Berthier were also present at this meeting, which took place at Prince Eugène's hotel, where the King of Prussia was staying in Paris. We waited for a few minutes in the salon, and when Frederick William entered from his office, I noticed an expression of embarrassment and seriousness on his face that made me think he had been rehearsing, as important figures often do on such occasions. Upon entering the salon, the King first acknowledged Berthier, addressing him warmly and praising the French troops while complimenting the Marshal for his actions during the war in Germany. Berthier thanked the King for these well-deserved praises; although he wasn't known for his sharp intellect or strong will, he was a decent person, and I witnessed many examples of his good conduct in occupied territories.







      After saluting Berthier the King of Prussia turned towards Clarke, and his
      countenance immediately assumed an expression of dissatisfaction. He had
      evidently not forgotten Clarke's conduct in Berlin. He reminded him that
      he had rendered the Continental system more odious than it was in itself,
      and that he had shown no moderation in the execution of his orders. "In
      short," said his Majesty, "if I have any advice to give you, it is that
      you never again return to Prussia." The King pronounced these words in so
      loud and decided a tone that Clarke was perfectly confounded. He uttered
      some unintelligible observations, which, however, Frederick William did
      not notice, for suddenly turning towards me he said, with an air of
      affability, "Ah! M. de Bourrienne, I am glad to see you, and I take this
      opportunity of repeating what I wrote to you from Gonigsberg. You always
      extended protection to the Germans, and did all you could to alleviate
      their condition. I learned with great satisfaction what you did for the
      Prussians whom the fate of war drove into Hamburg; and I feel pleasure in
      telling you, in the presence of these two gentlemen, that if all the
      French agents had acted as you did we should not, probably, be here." I
      expressed, by a profound bow, how much I was gratified by this
      complimentary address, and the king, after saluting us, retired.
    
After greeting Berthier, the King of Prussia turned to Clarke, and his face immediately showed signs of discontent. He clearly hadn’t forgotten Clarke’s behavior in Berlin. He pointed out that Clarke had made the Continental system even more unbearable than it already was, and that he hadn’t shown any restraint in carrying out his orders. “In short,” said His Majesty, “if I have any advice for you, it’s that you should never come back to Prussia.” The King said these words in such a loud and firm tone that Clarke was completely taken aback. He mumbled some unintelligible remarks, but Frederick William didn’t pay any attention. Instead, he suddenly turned to me and said, with a friendly demeanor, “Ah! M. de Bourrienne, it's great to see you, and I want to take this chance to repeat what I wrote to you from Gonigsberg. You always offered support to the Germans and did everything you could to improve their situation. I was very pleased to hear about what you did for the Prussians who were caught in Hamburg by the war; and I’m happy to tell you, in front of these two gentlemen, that if all the French agents had acted like you did, we probably wouldn’t be here.” I expressed my gratitude for this kind remark with a deep bow, and then the king, after acknowledging us, left.







      About the middle of April Bernadotte arrived in Paris. His situation had
      become equivocal, since circumstances had banished the hopes he might have
      conceived in his interview with the Emperor Alexander at Åbo. Besides, he
      had been represented in some official pamphlets as a traitor to France,
      and among certain worshippers of our injured glory there prevailed a
      feeling of irritation, and which was unjustly directed towards Bernadotte.
    
About the middle of April, Bernadotte arrived in Paris. His situation had become unclear, as circumstances had shattered any hopes he might have had following his meeting with Emperor Alexander in Åbo. Additionally, some official pamphlets had portrayed him as a traitor to France, and among certain supporters of our wounded pride, there was an unjust irritation directed at Bernadotte.







      I even remember that Napoleon, before he had fallen from his power, had a
      sort of national protest made by the police against the Prince Royal of
      Sweden. This Prince had reserved an hotel in the Rue d'Anjou, and the
      words, "Down with the traitor! down with the perjurer," were shouted
      there; but this had no result, as it was only considered an outrage caused
      by a spirit of petty vengeance.
    
I even remember that before Napoleon lost his power, there was a kind of national protest organized by the police against the Prince Royal of Sweden. This Prince had booked a hotel on Rue d'Anjou, and people shouted, "Down with the traitor! Down with the perjurer!" But this didn't have any impact, as it was seen merely as an act of petty revenge.







      While Bernadotte was in Paris I saw him every day. He but faintly
      disguised from me the hope he had entertained of ruling France; and in the
      numerous conversations to which our respective occupations led I
      ascertained, though Bernadotte did not formally tell me so, that he once
      had strong expectations of succeeding Napoleon.
    
While Bernadotte was in Paris, I saw him every day. He hardly hid from me the hope he had of ruling France; and through the many conversations that arose from our respective jobs, I realized, even though Bernadotte never explicitly said so, that he once had high hopes of succeeding Napoleon.







      Pressed at last into his final intrenchments he broke through all reserve
      and confirmed all I knew of the interview of Åbo.
    
Pressed at last into his final defenses, he let go of all restraint and reaffirmed everything I knew about the meeting in Åbo.







      I asked Bernadotte what he thought of the projects which were attributed
      to Moreau; whether it was true that he had in him a competitor, and
      whether Moreau had aspired to the dangerous honour of governing France:
      "Those reports," replied the Prince Royal of Sweden, "are devoid of
      foundation: at least I can assure you that in the conversations I have had
      with the Emperor Alexander, that sovereign never said anything which could
      warrant such a supposition. I know that the Emperor of Russia wished to
      avail himself of the military talents of Moreau in the great struggle that
      had commenced, and to enable the exiled general to return to his country,
      in the hope that, should the war prove fortunate, he would enjoy the
      honours and privileges due to his past services."
    
I asked Bernadotte what he thought about the projects attributed to Moreau; whether it was true that he had a rival in him, and whether Moreau had aimed for the risky honor of governing France. "Those reports," replied the Prince Royal of Sweden, "have no basis in fact: at least I can assure you that in the discussions I've had with Emperor Alexander, that ruler never mentioned anything that would support such a claim. I know that the Emperor of Russia wanted to use Moreau's military skills in the major conflict that had begun, and to allow the exiled general to return to his country, hoping that if the war went well, he would receive the honors and privileges he deserved for his past services."







      Bernadotte expressed to me astonishment at the recall of the Bourbons, and
      assured me that he had not expected the French people would so readily
      have consented to the Restoration. I confess I was surprised that
      Bernadotte, with the intelligence I knew him to possess, should imagine
      that the will of subjects has any influence in changes of government!
    
Bernadotte told me he was shocked by the return of the Bourbons and assured me he didn’t expect the French people would agree to the Restoration so easily. I must admit I was surprised that Bernadotte, with the smarts I knew he had, would think that the desires of the people have any impact on changes in government!







      During his stay in Paris Bernadotte evinced for me the same sentiments of
      friendship which he had shown me at Hamburg. One day I received from him a
      letter, dated Paris, with which he transmitted to me one of the crosses of
      the Polar Star, which the King of Sweden had left at his disposal.
      Bernadotte was not very well satisfied with his residence in Paris, in
      spite of the friendship which the Emperor Alexander constantly manifested
      towards him. After a few days he set out for Sweden, having first taken
      leave of the Comte d'Artois. I did not see him after his farewell visit to
      the Count, so that I know not what was the nature of the conversation
      which passed between the two Princes.
    
During his time in Paris, Bernadotte showed me the same feelings of friendship he had expressed when we were in Hamburg. One day, I received a letter from him, dated in Paris, in which he sent me one of the crosses of the Polar Star that the King of Sweden had made available to him. Bernadotte wasn’t very happy with his stay in Paris, even though the Emperor Alexander consistently treated him with kindness. After a few days, he left for Sweden, having first said goodbye to Comte d'Artois. I didn’t see him after his farewell to the Count, so I don’t know what their conversation was about.








 


 

































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      VOLUME IV. — 1814-1821
    




















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      CHAPTER I.
    



      1814.
    
1814.


   Unalterable determination of the Allies with respect to Napoleon—
   Fontainebleau included in the limits to be occupied by the Allies—
   Alexander's departure from Paris—Napoleon informed of the necessity
   of his unconditional abdication—Macdonald and Ney again sent to
   Paris—Alleged attempt of Napoleon to poison himself—Farewell
   interview between Macdonald and Napoleon—The sabre of Murad Bey—
   Signature of the act of unconditional abdication—Tranquillity of
   Paris during the change of Government—Ukase of the Emperor of
   Russia relative to the Post-office—Religious ceremony on the Place
   Louis XV.—Arrival of the Comte d'Artois—His entrance into Paris—
   Arrival of the Emperor of Austria—Singular assemblage of sovereigns
   in France—Visit of the Emperor of Austria to Maria Louisa—Her
   interview with the Emperor Alexander—Her departure for Vienna.

   Unwavering determination of the Allies regarding Napoleon—  
   Fontainebleau included in the areas to be occupied by the Allies—  
   Alexander's departure from Paris—Napoleon informed of the need  
   for his unconditional abdication—Macdonald and Ney sent back to  
   Paris—Alleged attempt by Napoleon to poison himself—Farewell  
   meeting between Macdonald and Napoleon—the sword of Murad Bey—  
   Signing of the act of unconditional abdication—Calm in  
   Paris during the government transition—Ukase of the Emperor of  
   Russia concerning the Post-office—Religious ceremony at Place  
   Louis XV.—Arrival of the Comte d'Artois—His entrance into Paris—  
   Arrival of the Emperor of Austria—Unique gathering of sovereigns  
   in France—Visit of the Emperor of Austria to Maria Louisa—Her  
   meeting with Emperor Alexander—Her departure for Vienna.







      When Marmont left Paris on the receipt of the intelligence from Essonne,
      Marshals Macdonald and Ney and the Duke of Vicenza waited upon the Emperor
      Alexander to learn his resolution before he could have been informed of
      the movement of Marmont's troops. I myself went during the morning to the
      hotel of M. de Talleyrand, and it was there I learnt how what we had hoped
      for had become fact: the matter was completely decided. The Emperor
      Alexander had walked out at six in the morning to the residence of the
      King of Prussia in the Rue de Bourbon. The two sovereigns afterwards
      proceeded together to M. de Talleyrand's, where they were when Napoleon's
      Commissioners arrived. The Commissioners being introduced to the two
      sovereigns, the Emperor Alexander, in answer to their proposition, replied
      that the Regency was impossible, as submissions to the Provisional
      Government were pouring in from all parts, and that if the army had formed
      contrary wishes those should have been sooner made known. "Sire," observed
      Macdonald, "that—was—impossible, as none of the Marshals were
      in Paris, and besides, who could foresee the turn which affairs have
      taken? Could we imagine that an unfounded alarm would have removed from
      Essonne the corps of the Duke of Ragusa, who has this moment left us to
      bring his troops back to order?" These words produced no change in the
      determination of the sovereigns, who would hear of nothing but the
      unconditional abdication of Napoleon. Before the Marshals took leave of
      the Emperor Alexander they solicited an armistice of forty-eight hours,
      which time they said was indispensable to negotiate the act of abdication
      with Napoleon. This request was granted without hesitation, and the
      Emperor Alexander, showing Macdonald a map of the environs of Paris,
      courteously presented him with a pencil, saying, "Here, Marshal, mark
      yourself the limits to be observed by the two armies."—"No, Sire,"
      replied Macdonald, "we are the conquered party, and it is for you to mark
      the line of demarcation." Alexander determined that the right bank of the
      Seine should be occupied by the Allied troops, and the left bank by the
      French; but it was observed that this arrangement would be attended with
      inconvenience, as it would cut Paris in two, and it was agreed that the
      line should turn Paris. I have been informed that on a map sent to the
      Austrian staff to acquaint Prince Schwartzenberg with the limits
      definitively agreed on, Fontainebleau, the Emperor's headquarters, was by
      some artful means included within the line. The Austrians acted so
      implicitly on this direction that Marshal Macdonald was obliged to
      complain on the subject to Alexander, who removed all obstacles.
    
When Marmont left Paris after hearing the news from Essonne, Marshals Macdonald and Ney, along with the Duke of Vicenza, met with Emperor Alexander to find out his decision before he could have been informed of Marmont's troop movements. I went to M. de Talleyrand's hotel that morning, where I discovered that our hopes had become reality: the situation was completely determined. Emperor Alexander had left at six in the morning to visit the King of Prussia’s residence on Rue de Bourbon. The two monarchs then went together to M. de Talleyrand's, where they were when Napoleon's Commissioners arrived. After being introduced to the two sovereigns, Emperor Alexander responded to their proposal by saying that a regency was impossible since submissions to the Provisional Government were coming in from everywhere, and if the army had different wishes, they should have expressed them earlier. "Sire," Macdonald pointed out, "that was impossible since none of the Marshals were in Paris, and besides, who could have predicted the turn of events? Could we have imagined that an unfounded alarm would have led the Duke of Ragusa's corps to leave Essonne, who has just gone to bring his troops back to order?" These comments did not sway the sovereigns, who insisted on nothing less than Napoleon's unconditional abdication. Before the Marshals took their leave from Emperor Alexander, they asked for a 48-hour armistice, stating they needed that time to negotiate the abdication with Napoleon. This request was granted without hesitation, and Emperor Alexander, showing Macdonald a map of the Paris area, politely offered him a pencil, saying, "Here, Marshal, mark the limits to be followed by the two armies." "No, Sire," Macdonald replied, "we are the defeated party, and it is up to you to mark the demarcation line." Alexander decided that the Allied troops would occupy the right bank of the Seine and the French would occupy the left bank, but it was noted that this arrangement would cause issues as it would split Paris in two. It was agreed that the line should go around Paris. I've been told that on a map sent to the Austrian staff to inform Prince Schwartzenberg of the agreed boundaries, Fontainebleau, the Emperor's headquarters, was cleverly included within the line. The Austrians followed this direction so strictly that Marshal Macdonald had to raise the issue with Alexander, who then removed all obstacles.







      When, in discussing the question of the abdication conformably with the
      instructions he had received, Macdonald observed to the Emperor Alexander
      that Napoleon wished for nothing for himself, "Assure him," replied
      Alexander, "that a provision shall be made for him worthy of the rank he
      has occupied. Tell him that if he wishes to reside in my States he shall
      be well received, though he brought desolation there. I shall always
      remember the friendship which united us. He shall have the island of Elba,
      or something else." After taking leave of the Emperor Alexander, on the
      5th of April, Napoleon's Commissioners returned to Fontainebleau to render
      an account of their mission. I saw Alexander that same day, and it
      appeared to me that his mind was relieved of a great weight by the
      question of the Regency being brought to an end. I was informed that he
      intended to quit Paris in a few days, and that he had given full powers to
      M. Pozzo-di-Borgo, whom he appointed his Commissioner to the Provisional
      Government.
    
When discussing the abdication following the instructions he received, Macdonald told Emperor Alexander that Napoleon wanted nothing for himself. "Make sure he knows," Alexander replied, "that we will provide him with something suitable for the rank he held. Tell him that if he wants to live in my territories, he will be welcomed, even though he brought destruction there. I will always remember the friendship we had. He can have the island of Elba, or something else." After leaving Emperor Alexander on April 5th, Napoleon's Commissioners returned to Fontainebleau to report on their mission. I saw Alexander that same day, and it seemed like the question of the Regency had lifted a huge burden off his shoulders. I was informed that he planned to leave Paris in a few days and had given full powers to M. Pozzo-di-Borgo, whom he appointed as his Commissioner to the Provisional Government.







      On the same day, the 5th of April, Napoleon inspected his troops in the
      Palace yard of Fontainebleau. He observed some coolness among his
      officers, and even among the private soldiers, who had evinced such
      enthusiasm when he inspected them on the 2d of April. He was so much
      affected by this change of conduct that he remained but a short time on
      the parade, and afterwards retired to his apartments.
    
On the same day, April 5th, Napoleon inspected his troops in the Palace yard of Fontainebleau. He noticed some tension among his officers, and even among the private soldiers, who had shown so much enthusiasm when he inspected them on April 2nd. He was so affected by this change in behavior that he stayed for only a short time at the parade and then went back to his rooms.







      About one o'clock on the morning of the 6th of April Ney, Macdonald, and
      Caulaincourt arrived at Fontainebleau to acquaint the Emperor with the
      issue of their mission, and the sentiments expressed by Alexander when
      they took leave of him. Marshal Ney was the first to announce to Napoleon
      that the Allies required his complete and unconditional abdication,
      unaccompanied by any stipulation, except that of his personal safety,
      which should be guaranteed. Marshal Macdonald and the Duke of Vicenza then
      spoke to the same effect, but in more gentle terms than those employed by
      Ney, who was but little versed in the courtesies of speech. When Marshal
      Macdonald had finished speaking Napoleon said with some emotion, "Marshal,
      I am sensible of all that you have done for me, and of the warmth with
      which you have pleaded the cause of my son. They wish for my complete and
      unconditional abdication. . . . Very well. I again empower you to act on
      my behalf. You shall go and defend my interests and those of my family."
      Then, after a moment's pause, he added, still addressing Macdonald,
      "Marshal, where shall I go?" Macdonald then informed the Emperor what
      Alexander had mentioned in the hypothesis of his wishing to reside in
      Russia. "Sire," added he, "the Emperor of Russia told me that he destined
      for you the island of Elba, or something else."—"Or something else!"
      repeated Napoleon hastily, "and what is that something else?"—"Sire,
      I know not."—"Ah! it is doubtless the island of Corsica, and he
      refrained from mentioning it to avoid embarrassment! Marshal, I leave all
      to you."
    
Around one o'clock in the morning on April 6th, Ney, Macdonald, and Caulaincourt arrived at Fontainebleau to update the Emperor on the results of their mission and Alexander's sentiments when they said goodbye. Marshal Ney was the first to tell Napoleon that the Allies demanded his complete and unconditional abdication, with no conditions except for his personal safety, which they would guarantee. Marshal Macdonald and the Duke of Vicenza then spoke on the same topic but in softer terms than Ney, who wasn't very skilled in diplomatic speech. After Macdonald finished, Napoleon said with some emotion, "Marshal, I appreciate everything you’ve done for me and the passion with which you’ve defended my son's interests. They want my complete and unconditional abdication... Fine. I give you the power to act on my behalf. Go and protect my interests and those of my family." After a brief pause, he continued, still addressing Macdonald, "Marshal, where should I go?" Macdonald then told the Emperor what Alexander had mentioned if he wished to live in Russia. "Sire," he added, "the Emperor of Russia said he was considering the island of Elba for you or something else."—"Or something else!" Napoleon repeated hastily, "and what is that something else?"—"Sire, I don't know."—"Ah! It’s probably the island of Corsica, and he didn’t mention it to avoid awkwardness! Marshal, I leave everything to you."







      The Marshals returned to Paris as soon as Napoleon furnished them with new
      powers; Caulaincourt remained at Fontainebleau. On arriving in Paris
      Marshal Ney sent in his adhesion to the Provisional Government, so that
      when Macdonald returned to Fontainebleau to convey to Napoleon the
      definitive treaty of the Allies, Ney did not accompany him, and the
      Emperor expressed surprise and dissatisfaction at his absence. Ney, as all
      his friends concur in admitting, expended his whole energy in battle, and
      often wanted resolution when out of the field, consequently I was not
      surprised to find that he joined us before some other of his comrades. As
      to Macdonald, he was one of those generous spirits who may be most
      confidently relied on by those who have wronged them. Napoleon experienced
      the truth of this. Macdonald returned alone to Fontainebleau, and when he
      entered the Emperor's chamber he found him seated in a small armchair
      before the fireplace. He was dressed in a morning-gown of white dimity,
      and he wore his slippers without stockings. His elbows rested on his knees
      and his head was supported by his hands. He was motionless, and seemed
      absorbed in profound reflection. Only two persons were in the apartment,
      the Duke of Bassano; who was at a little distance from the Emperor, and
      Caulaincourt, who was near the fireplace. So profound was Napoleon's
      reverie that he did not hear Macdonald enter, and the Duke of Vicenza was
      obliged to inform him of the Marshal's presence. "Sire," said
      Caulaincourt, "the Duke of Tarantum has brought for your signature the
      treaty which is to be ratified to-morrow." The Emperor then, as if roused
      from a lethargic slumber, turned to Macdonald, and merely said, "Ah,
      Marshal! so you are here!" Napoleon's countenance was so altered that the
      Marshal, struck with the change, said, as if it were involuntarily, "Is
      your Majesty indisposed?"—"Yes," answered Napoleon, "I have passed a
      very bad night."
    
The Marshals got back to Paris as soon as Napoleon gave them new powers; Caulaincourt stayed at Fontainebleau. When they arrived in Paris, Marshal Ney sent his support to the Provisional Government, so when Macdonald returned to Fontainebleau to deliver the Allies' final treaty to Napoleon, Ney didn’t go with him, and the Emperor was surprised and unhappy about his absence. Ney, as all his friends agree, put all his energy into battle and often lacked resolve outside of it, so I wasn't surprised he joined us before some of his other comrades. As for Macdonald, he was one of those generous people who can be trusted most by those who have wronged them. Napoleon learned this the hard way. Macdonald returned alone to Fontainebleau, and when he entered the Emperor's chamber, he found him sitting in a small armchair by the fireplace. He was dressed in a white dimity morning gown and wore slippers without stockings. His elbows were resting on his knees, and his head was in his hands. He was completely still, seeming lost in deep thought. Only two people were in the room: the Duke of Bassano, who was a little distance from the Emperor, and Caulaincourt, who was near the fireplace. Napoleon was so deep in his thoughts that he didn’t notice Macdonald come in, and the Duke of Vicenza had to inform him of the Marshal's presence. "Sire," said Caulaincourt, "the Duke of Tarantum has brought the treaty for your signature, which is to be ratified tomorrow." The Emperor then, as if waking from a deep sleep, turned to Macdonald and simply said, "Ah, Marshal! So you are here!" Napoleon's expression had changed so much that the Marshal, taken aback, asked almost without thinking, "Is your Majesty unwell?" —"Yes," Napoleon replied, "I had a very bad night."







      The Emperor continued seated for a moment, then rising, he took the
      treaty, read it without making any observation, signed it, and returned it
      to the Marshal, saying; "I am not now rich enough to reward these last
      services."—"Sire, interest never guided my conduct."—"I know
      that, and I now see how I have been deceived respecting you. I also see
      the designs of those who prejudiced me against you."—"Sire, I have
      already told you, since 1809 I am devoted to you in life and death."—"I
      know it. But since I cannot reward you as I would wish, let a token of
      remembrance, inconsiderable though it be, assure you that I shall ever
      bear in mind the services you have rendered me." Then turning to
      Caulaincourt Napoleon said, "Vicenza, ask for the sabre which was given me
      by Murad Bey in Egypt, and which I wore at the battle of Mount Thabor."
      Constant having brought the sabre, the Emperor took it from the hands of
      Caulaincourt and presented it to the Marshal "Here, my faithful friend,"
      said he, "is a reward which I believe will gratify you." Macdonald on
      receiving the sabre said, "If ever I have a son, Sire, this will be his
      most precious inheritance. I will never part with it as long as I live."—"Give
      me your hand," said the Emperor, "and embrace me." At these words Napoleon
      and Macdonald affectionately rushed into each other's arms, and parted
      with tears in their eyes. Such was the last interview between Macdonald
      and Napoleon. I had the above particulars from the Marshal himself in
      1814., a few days after he returned to Paris with the treaty ratified by
      Napoleon.
    
The Emperor remained seated for a moment, then stood up, took the treaty, read it without commenting, signed it, and handed it back to the Marshal, saying, "I'm not in a position to reward these latest services right now."—"Sire, my actions have never been driven by personal gain."—"I know that, and I realize now how I was misled about you. I also understand the motives of those who turned me against you."—"Sire, I've already told you, since 1809, I am devoted to you in life and death."—"I know. But since I can't reward you as I wish, please accept this small token of remembrance to assure you that I'll always remember the services you've given me." Then he turned to Caulaincourt and said, "Vicenza, ask for the saber that Murad Bey gave me in Egypt, the one I wore at the battle of Mount Thabor." Once Constant brought the saber, the Emperor took it from Caulaincourt's hands and presented it to the Marshal. "Here, my loyal friend," he said, "is a reward I hope will please you." Macdonald, upon receiving the saber, replied, "If I ever have a son, Sire, this will be his most valued inheritance. I will never part with it as long as I live."—"Take my hand," said the Emperor, "and embrace me." At those words, Napoleon and Macdonald warmly embraced, parting with tears in their eyes. This was their final meeting. I received these details from the Marshal himself in 1814, just a few days after he returned to Paris with the treaty signed by Napoleon.







      After the clauses of the treaty had been guaranteed Napoleon signed, on
      the 11th of April, at Fontainebleau, his act of abdication, which was in
      the following terms:—
    
After the treaty clauses were secured, Napoleon signed his abdication document on April 11th at Fontainebleau, which stated the following:—






   "The Allied powers having proclaimed that the Emperor Napoleon is the
   only obstacle to the re-establishment of peace in Europe, the
   Emperor Napoleon, faithful to his oath, declares that he renounces
   for himself and his heirs the thrones of France and Italy, and that
   there is no personal sacrifice, even that of life, which he is not
   ready to make for the interests of France."

   "The Allied powers have declared that Emperor Napoleon is the only barrier to restoring peace in Europe. In response, Emperor Napoleon, true to his oath, states that he renounces the thrones of France and Italy for himself and his heirs, and that he is willing to make any personal sacrifice, even his life, for the interests of France."







      It was not until after Bonaparte had written and signed the above act that
      Marshal Macdonald sent to the Provisional Government his recognition,
      expressed in the following dignified and simple manner:—
    
It wasn't until after Bonaparte wrote and signed the above act that Marshal Macdonald sent his recognition to the Provisional Government, conveyed in the following dignified and straightforward way:—






   "Being released from my allegiance by the abdication of the Emperor
   Napoleon, I declare that I conform to the acts of the Senate and the
   Provisional Government."

   "Being freed from my loyalty because of Emperor Napoleon's abdication, I state that I uphold the decisions of the Senate and the Provisional Government."







      It is worthy of remark that Napoleon's act of abdication was published in
      the 'Moniteur' on the 12th of April, the very day on which the Comte
      d'Artois made his entry into Paris with the title of Lieutenant-General of
      the Kingdom conferred on him by Louis XVIII. The 12th of April was also
      the day on which the Imperial army fought its last battle before Toulouse,
      when the French troops, commanded by Soult, made Wellington purchase so
      dearly his entrance into the south of France.—[The battle of
      Toulouse was fought on the 10th not 12th April D.W.]
    
It's worth noting that Napoleon's abdication was announced in the 'Moniteur' on April 12th, the exact day Comte d'Artois entered Paris with the title of Lieutenant-General of the Kingdom given to him by Louis XVIII. April 12th was also the day the Imperial army fought its last battle before Toulouse, where the French troops, led by Soult, made Wellington pay such a high price for his entry into the south of France.—[The battle of Toulouse was fought on the 10th not 12th April D.W.]







      Political revolutions are generally stormy, yet, during the great change
      of 1814 Paris was perfectly tranquil, thanks to the excellent discipline
      maintained by the commanders of the Allied armies, and thanks also to the
      services of the National Guard of Paris, who every night patrolled the
      streets. My duties as Director-General of the Post-office had of course
      obliged me to resign my captain's epaulette.
    
Political revolutions are usually chaotic, but during the major changes in 1814, Paris was completely calm, thanks to the strong discipline upheld by the leaders of the Allied armies and the efforts of the National Guard of Paris, who patrolled the streets every night. My responsibilities as the Director-General of the Post Office meant that I had to give up my captain's rank.







      When I first obtained my appointment I had been somewhat alarmed to hear
      that all the roads were covered with foreign troops, especially Cossacks,
      who even in time of peace are very ready to capture any horses that may
      fall in their way. On my application to the Emperor Alexander his Majesty
      immediately issued a ukase, severely prohibiting the seizure of horses or
      anything belonging to the Post-office department. The ukase was printed by
      order of the Czar, and filed up at all the post-offices, and it will be
      seen that after the 20th of March, when I was placed in an embarrassing
      situation, one of the postmasters on the Lille road expressed to me his
      gratitude for my conduct while I was in the service.
    
When I first got my appointment, I was somewhat worried to hear that all the roads were filled with foreign troops, especially Cossacks, who are always quick to take any horses that come their way, even during peacetime. When I brought this to the attention of Emperor Alexander, he immediately issued a decree, strongly prohibiting the seizure of horses or anything belonging to the Post Office department. The decree was printed by order of the Czar and displayed at all the post offices. It’s noteworthy that after March 20th, when I found myself in an awkward situation, one of the postmasters on the Lille road thanked me for my conduct during my service.







      On the 10th of April a ceremony took place in Paris which has been much
      spoken of; and which must have had a very imposing effect on those who
      allow themselves to be dazzled by mere spectacle. Early in the morning
      some regiments of the Allied troops occupied the north side of the
      Boulevard, from the site of the old Bastille to the Place Louis XV., in
      the middle of which an altar of square form was erected. Thither the
      Allied sovereigns came to witness the celebration of mass according to the
      rites of the Greek Church. I went to a window of the hotel of the Minister
      of the Marine to see the ceremony. After I had waited from eight in the
      morning till near twelve the pageant commenced by the arrival of half a
      dozen Greek priests, with long beards, and as richly dressed as the high
      priests who figure in the processions of the opera. About three-quarters
      of an hour after this first scene the infantry, followed by the cavalry,
      entered the place, which, in a few moments was entirely covered with
      military. The Allied sovereigns at length appeared, attended by brilliant
      staffs. They alighted from their horses and advanced to the altar. What
      appeared to me most remarkable was the profound silence of the vast
      multitude during the performance of the mass. The whole spectacle had the
      effect of a finely-painted panorama. For my own part, I must confess I was
      heartily tired of the ceremony, and was very glad when it was over. I
      could not admire the foreign uniforms, which were very inferior to ours.
      Many of them appeared fanciful, and even grotesque, and nothing can be
      more unsoldier-like than to see a man laced in stays till his figure
      resembles a wasp. The ceremony which took place two days after, though
      less pompous, was much more French. In the retinue which, on the 12th of
      April, momentarily increased round the Comte d'Artos, there were at least
      recollections for the old, and hopes for every one.
    
On April 10th, a ceremony took place in Paris that has received a lot of attention and must have made a strong impression on those who are easily captivated by spectacle. Early in the morning, some regiments of Allied troops took position on the north side of the Boulevard, from the old Bastille site to Place Louis XV., where a square altar was set up in the center. The Allied sovereigns arrived to witness a mass celebrated according to the Greek Church's rites. I went to a window of the Minister of the Marine's hotel to watch the ceremony. After waiting from 8 AM until nearly noon, the event began with the arrival of a handful of Greek priests, sporting long beards and dressed as elaborately as the high priests in opera processions. About three-quarters of an hour later, infantry followed by cavalry entered the area, which quickly filled with military presence. The Allied sovereigns finally arrived, accompanied by their dazzling staffs. They dismounted from their horses and approached the altar. What struck me most was the deep silence of the immense crowd during the mass. The entire scene resembled a beautifully painted panorama. Personally, I must admit I was quite bored with the ceremony and felt relieved when it ended. I couldn't admire the foreign uniforms, which seemed quite inferior to ours. Many appeared fanciful and even ridiculous, and nothing looks less soldierly than seeing a man dressed so tightly that he resembles a wasp. The ceremony two days later, although less extravagant, felt much more French. In the crowd around Comte d'Artos on April 12th, there were at least reminders for the elderly and hopes for everyone.







      When, on the departure of the Commissioners whom Napoleon had sent to
      Alexander to treat for the Regency, it was finally determined that the
      Allied sovereigns would listen to no proposition from Napoleon and his
      family, the Provisional Government thought it time to request that
      Monsieur would, by his presence, give a new impulse to the partisans of
      the Bourbons. The Abby de Montesquieu wrote to the Prince a letter, which
      was carried to him by Viscount Sosthenes de la Rochefoucauld, one of the
      individuals who, in these difficult circumstances, most zealously served
      the cause of the Bourbons. On the afternoon of the 11th Monsieur arrived
      at a country-house belonging to Madame Charles de Dames, where he passed
      the night. The news of his arrival spread through Paris with the rapidity
      of lightning, and every one wished to solemnise his entrance into the
      capital. The National Guard formed a double line from the barrier of Bondy
      to Notre Dame, whither the Prince was first to proceed, in observance of
      an old custom, which, however, had become very rare in France during the
      last twenty years.
    
When the Commissioners Napoleon sent to speak with Alexander about the Regency left, it was finally decided that the Allied leaders would not entertain any proposals from Napoleon and his family. The Provisional Government thought it was time to ask Monsieur to come and rally the supporters of the Bourbons. The Abby de Montesquieu wrote a letter to the Prince, which was delivered by Viscount Sosthenes de la Rochefoucauld, one of the people who passionately supported the Bourbon cause during these tough times. On the afternoon of the 11th, Monsieur arrived at a country house owned by Madame Charles de Dames, where he stayed the night. The news of his arrival spread through Paris like wildfire, and everyone wanted to celebrate his entrance into the city. The National Guard formed a double line from the Bondy barrier to Notre Dame, which was the first stop for the Prince, following an old tradition that had become quite rare in France over the last twenty years.







      M. de Talleyrand, accompanied by the members of the Provisional
      Government, several Marshals and general officers, and the municipal body,
      headed by the prefect of the Seine, went in procession beyond the barrier
      to receive Monsieur. M. de Talleyrand, in the name of the Provisional
      Government, addressed the Prince, who in reply made that observation which
      has been so often repeated, "Nothing is changed in France: there is only
      one Frenchman more."
    
M. de Talleyrand, along with the members of the Provisional Government, several Marshals and general officers, and the municipal officials led by the prefect of the Seine, went in a procession beyond the barrier to greet Monsieur. M. de Talleyrand, speaking for the Provisional Government, addressed the Prince, who responded with the remark that has been repeated so often, "Nothing has changed in France: there’s just one more Frenchman."






 —[These words were never really uttered by the Comte d'Artois, and
   we can in this case follow the manufacture of the phrase. The reply
   actually made to Talleyrand was, "Sir, and gentlemen, I thank you; I
   am too happy. Let us get on; I am too happy." When the day's work
   was done, "Let us see," said Talleyrand; "what did Monsieur say? I
   did not hear much: he seemed much moved, and desirous of hastening
   on, but if what he did say will not suit you (Beugnot), make an
   answer for him . . . and I can answer that Monsieur will accept it,
   and that so thoroughly that by the end of a couple of days he will
   believe he made it, and he will have made it: you will count for
   nothing." After repeated attempts, rejected by Talleyrand, Beugnot
   at last produced, "No more divisions. Peace and France! At last I
   see her once more, and nothing in her is changed, except that here
   is one more Frenchman." At last the great critic (Talleyrand) said,
   "This time I yield; that is really Monsieur's speech, and I will
   answer for you that he is the man who made it." Monsieur did not
   disdain to refer to it in his replies, and the prophecy of M. de
   Talleyrand was completely realised (Beugnot, vol. ii, p. 119)]— 
 —[These words were never actually spoken by the Comte d'Artois, and we can track the creation of the phrase. The real response made to Talleyrand was, "Sir, and gentlemen, thank you; I am very happy. Let's move on; I am very happy." When the day's work was over, Talleyrand said, "Let’s see, what did Monsieur say? I didn’t catch much: he seemed quite emotional and eager to move forward, but if what he did say doesn’t work for you (Beugnot), come up with a response for him... and I can assure you that Monsieur will accept it, so much so that in a couple of days, he’ll believe he came up with it himself, and he will have: you won’t matter." After several attempts rejected by Talleyrand, Beugnot finally came up with, "No more divisions. Peace and France! I see her once more, and nothing about her has changed, except now there’s one more Frenchman." Finally, the great critic (Talleyrand) said, "This time I agree; that is indeed Monsieur's speech, and I can guarantee that he is the one who said it." Monsieur was not above referencing it in his replies, and M. de Talleyrand's prophecy was completely fulfilled (Beugnot, vol. ii, p. 119)]—







      This remark promised much. The Comte Artois next proceeded on horseback to
      the barrier St. Martin. I mingled in the crowd to see the procession and
      to observe the sentiments of the spectators. Near me stood an old knight
      of St. Louis, who had resumed the insignia of the order, and who wept for
      joy at again seeing one of the Bourbons. The procession soon arrived,
      preceded by a band playing the air, "Vive Henri Quatre!" I had never
      before seen Monsieur, and his appearance had a most pleasing effect upon
      me. His open countenance bore the expression of that confidence which his
      presence inspired in all who saw him. His staff was very brilliant,
      considering it was got together without preparation. The Prince wore the
      uniform of the National Guard, with the insignia of the Order of the Holy
      Ghost.
    
This comment was full of promise. The Comte Artois then rode on horseback to the St. Martin barrier. I blended in with the crowd to watch the procession and gauge the feelings of the spectators. Next to me was an old knight of St. Louis, who had put on the insignia of the order again, and who cried tears of joy at seeing one of the Bourbons once more. The procession soon arrived, led by a band playing the tune "Vive Henri Quatre!" I had never seen Monsieur before, and his appearance had a very positive effect on me. His open face showed the confidence that his presence inspired in everyone who laid eyes on him. His staff looked quite impressive, especially considering it was assembled without any prior planning. The Prince was dressed in the uniform of the National Guard, adorned with the insignia of the Order of the Holy Ghost.







      I must candidly state that where I saw Monsieur pass, enthusiasm was
      chiefly confined to his own retinue, and to persons who appeared to belong
      to a superior class of society. The lower order of people seemed to be
      animated by curiosity and astonishment rather than any other feeling. I
      must add that it was not without painful surprise I saw a squadron of
      Cossacks close the procession; and my surprise was the greater when I
      learned from General Sacken that the Emperor Alexander had wished that on
      that day the one Frenchman more should be surrounded only by Frenchmen,
      and that to prove that the presence of the Bourbons was the signal of
      reconciliation his Majesty had ordered 20,000 of the Allied troops to quit
      Paris. I know not to what the presence of the Cossacks is to be
      attributed, but it was an awkward circumstance at the time, and one which
      malevolence did not fail to seize upon.
    
I have to honestly say that when I saw Monsieur pass by, excitement was mostly limited to his own entourage and people who seemed to come from a higher social class. The lower class of people appeared to be driven more by curiosity and shock than anything else. I must mention that I was unexpectedly troubled to see a group of Cossacks closing the procession, and my surprise grew when I found out from General Sacken that Emperor Alexander had wanted that day for the only Frenchman to be surrounded solely by Frenchmen. To show that the presence of the Bourbons symbolized reconciliation, His Majesty had ordered 20,000 of the Allied troops to leave Paris. I’m not sure what to make of the Cossacks’ presence, but it was an uncomfortable situation at the time, and one that people with ill intentions were quick to exploit.







      Two days only intervened between Monsieur's entrance into Paris and the
      arrival of the Emperor of Austria. That monarch was not popular among the
      Parisians. The line of conduct he had adopted was almost generally
      condemned, for, even among those who had most ardently wished for the
      dethronement of his daughter, through their aversion to the Bonaparte
      family, there were many who blamed the Emperor of Austria's behaviour to
      Maria Louisa: they would have wished that, for the honour of Francis II.,
      he had unsuccessfully opposed the downfall of the dynasty, whose alliance
      he considered as a safeguard in 1809. This was the opinion which the mass
      of the people instinctively formed, for they judged of the Emperor of
      Austria in his character of a father and not in his character of a
      monarch; and as the rights of misfortune are always sacred in France, more
      interest was felt for Maria Louisa when she was known to be forsaken than
      when she was in the height of her splendour. Francis II. had not seen his
      daughter since the day when she left Vienna to unite her destiny with that
      of the master of half of Europe, and I have already stated how he received
      the mission with which Maria Louisa entrusted the Duc de Cadore.
    
Only two days passed between Monsieur's arrival in Paris and the Emperor of Austria's arrival. That king wasn't popular with the Parisians. His approach was mostly condemned, even by those who had strongly desired the dethronement of his daughter due to their dislike for the Bonaparte family. Many criticized the Emperor of Austria's treatment of Maria Louisa; they would have preferred that, for the honor of Francis II., he had tried unsuccessfully to prevent the collapse of the dynasty, which he viewed as a safeguard back in 1809. This was the instinctive view of the general public, as they judged the Emperor of Austria as a father, not as a ruler; and since the rights of the unfortunate are always respected in France, more sympathy was felt for Maria Louisa when she was known to be abandoned than when she was at the peak of her glory. Francis II. hadn't seen his daughter since the day she left Vienna to join her fate with the ruler of half of Europe, and I've already mentioned how he reacted to the task Maria Louisa gave to the Duc de Cadore.







      I was then too intent on what was passing in Paris and at Fontainebleau to
      observe with equal interest all the circumstances connected with the fate
      of Maria Louisa, but I will present to the reader all the information I
      was able to collect respecting that Princess during the period immediately
      preceding her departure from France. She constantly assured the persons
      about her that she could rely on her father. The following words, which
      were faithfully reported to me, were addressed by her to an officer who
      was at Blois during the mission of M. de Champagny. "Even though it should
      be the intention of the Allied sovereigns to dethrone the Emperor
      Napoleon, my father will not suffer it. When he placed me on the throne of
      France he repeated to me twenty times his determination to uphold me on
      it; and my father is an honest man." I also know that the Empress, both at
      Blois and at Orleans, expressed her regret at not having followed the
      advice of the members of the Regency, who wished her to stay in Paris.
    
I was too focused on what was happening in Paris and at Fontainebleau to pay equal attention to the details surrounding the fate of Maria Louisa, but I will share all the information I gathered about that Princess in the time right before she left France. She repeatedly told those around her that she could count on her father. The following words, which were reliably reported to me, were spoken by her to an officer who was in Blois during M. de Champagny's mission: "Even if the Allied rulers intend to dethrone Emperor Napoleon, my father won't allow it. When he put me on the throne of France, he told me twenty times that he was committed to keeping me there; and my father is an honest man." I also learned that the Empress, both in Blois and Orleans, regretted not taking the advice of the Regency members, who wanted her to stay in Paris.







      On leaving Orleans Maria Louisa proceeded to Rambouillet; and it was not
      one of the least extraordinary circumstances of that eventful period to
      see the sovereigns of Europe, the dethroned sovereigns of France, and
      those who had come to resume the sceptre, all crowded together within a
      circle of fifteen leagues round the capital. There was a Bourbon at the
      Tuileries, Bonaparte at Fontainebleau, his wife and son at Rambouillet,
      the repudiated Empress at Malmaison three leagues distant, and the
      Emperors of Russia and Austria and the King of Prussia in Paris.
    
After leaving Orleans, Maria Louisa went to Rambouillet; and it was one of the most astonishing things about that dramatic time to see the rulers of Europe, the ousted rulers of France, and those who had come to take back the throne all gathered within a fifteen-league radius of the capital. There was a Bourbon at the Tuileries, Bonaparte at Fontainebleau, his wife and son at Rambouillet, the rejected Empress at Malmaison just three leagues away, and the Emperors of Russia and Austria along with the King of Prussia in Paris.







      When all her hopes had vanished Maria Louisa left Rambouillet to return to
      Austria with her son. She did not obtain permission to see Napoleon before
      her departure, though she had frequently expressed a wish to that effect.
      Napoleon himself was aware of the embarrassment which might have attended
      such a farewell, or otherwise he would no doubt have made a parting
      interview with Maria Louisa one of the clauses of the treaty of Paris and
      Fontainebleau, and of his definitive act of abdication. I was informed at
      the time that the reason which prevented Maria Louisa's wish from being
      acceded to was the fear that, by one of those sudden impulses common to
      women, she might have determined to unite herself to Napoleon's fallen
      fortune, and accompany him to Elba; and the Emperor of Austria wished to
      have his daughter back again.
    
When all her hopes had faded, Maria Louisa left Rambouillet to return to Austria with her son. She didn’t get permission to see Napoleon before she left, even though she had often expressed a desire to do so. Napoleon himself knew that such a farewell might have been awkward, or else he would have made a meeting with Maria Louisa a part of the treaties of Paris and Fontainebleau, as well as his final act of abdication. I was told at the time that the reason Maria Louisa’s wish wasn’t granted was the fear that, in one of those impulsive moments common to women, she might decide to join Napoleon’s fallen fortunes and go with him to Elba; and the Emperor of Austria wanted his daughter back.







      Things had arrived at this point, and there was no possibility of
      retracting from any of the decisions which had been formed when the
      Emperor of Austria went to see his daughter at Rambouillet. I recollect it
      was thought extraordinary at the time that the Emperor Alexander should
      accompany him on this visit; and, indeed, the sight of the sovereign, who
      was regarded as the head and arbiter of the coalition, could not be
      agreeable to the dethroned Empress.
    
Things had reached this point, and there was no way to go back on any of the decisions made when the Emperor of Austria went to visit his daughter at Rambouillet. I remember it was considered quite unusual at the time that Emperor Alexander would join him on this visit; in fact, the sight of the ruler, who was seen as the leader and judge of the coalition, could not have been pleasing to the deposed Empress.






 —[Meneval (tome ii. p. 112), then with Maria Louisa as Secretary,
   who gives some details of her interview with the Emperor Francis on
   the 16th of April, says nothing about the Czar having been there; a
   fact he would have been sure to have remarked upon. It was only on
   the 19th of April that Alexander visited her, the King of Prussia
   coming in his turn on the 22d; but Bourrienne is right in saying
   that Maria Louisa complained bitterly of having to receive
   Alexander, and considered that she was forced by her father to do
   so. The poor little King of Rome, then only three years old, had
   also to be seen by the monarchs. He was not taken with his
   grandfather, remarking that he was not handsome. Maria Louisa
   seems, according to Meneval, to have been at this time really
   anxious to join Napoleon (Meneval, tome ii. p. 94). She left
   Rambouillet on the 28d of April stopped one day at Grossbois,
   receiving there her father and Berthier, and taking farewell of
   several persons who came from Paris for that purpose. On the 25th
   of April she started for Vienna, and later for Parma, which state
   she received under the treaty of 1814 and 1815. She yielded to the
   influence brought to bear on her, became estranged from Napoleon,
   and eventually married her chamberlain, the Comte de Neipperg, an
   Austrian general.]— 
—[Meneval (volume ii, p. 112), then with Maria Louisa as Secretary, who provides some details of her meeting with Emperor Francis on April 16, does not mention the Czar's presence; something he surely would have noted. It was only on April 19 that Alexander visited her, with the King of Prussia coming on the 22nd; however, Bourrienne is correct in stating that Maria Louisa bitterly complained about having to host Alexander, feeling she was compelled to do so by her father. The poor little King of Rome, only three years old at the time, also had to be seen by the monarchs. He was not taken with his grandfather, commenting that he was not handsome. According to Meneval, Maria Louisa seemed genuinely eager to join Napoleon at that time (Meneval, volume ii, p. 94). She left Rambouillet on April 28, stopped for a day at Grossbois, where she received her father and Berthier, and said goodbye to several people who came from Paris for that purpose. On April 25, she set off for Vienna, and later for Parma, which she received under the treaties of 1814 and 1815. She gave in to the pressure exerted on her, became distanced from Napoleon, and ultimately married her chamberlain, Count de Neipperg, an Austrian general.]—







      The two Emperors set off from Paris shortly after each other. The Emperor
      of Austria arrived first at Rambouillet, where he was received with
      respect and affection by his daughter. Maria Louisa was happy to see him,
      but the many tears she shed were not all tears of joy. After the first
      effusion of filial affection she complained of the situation to which she
      was reduced. Her father sympathised with her, but could offer her no
      consolation, since her misfortunes were irreparable. Alexander was
      expected to arrive immediately, and the Emperor of Austria therefore
      informed his daughter that the Russian monarch wished to see her. At first
      Maria Louisa decidedly refused to receive him, and she persisted for some
      time in this resolution. She said to her father, "Would he too make me a
      prisoner before your eyes? If he enters here by force I will retire to my
      chamber. There, I presume, he will not dare to follow me while you are
      here." But there was no time to be lost; Francis II. heard the equipage of
      the Emperor of Russia rolling through the courtyard of Rambouillet, and
      his entreaties to his daughter became more and more urgent. At length she
      yielded, and the Emperor of Austria went himself to meet his ally and
      conduct him to the salon where Maria Louisa remained, in deference to her
      father. She did not, however, carry her deference so far as to give a
      favourable reception to him whom she regarded as the author of all her
      misfortunes. She listened with considerable coldness to the offers and
      protestations of Alexander, and merely replied that all she wished for was
      the liberty of returning to her family. A few days after this painful
      interview Maria Louisa and her son set off for Vienna.
    
The two Emperors left Paris shortly after one another. The Emperor of Austria arrived first at Rambouillet, where his daughter welcomed him with respect and warmth. Maria Louisa was glad to see him, but the tears she shed were not all tears of joy. After the initial emotional reunion, she expressed her frustration about her situation. Her father sympathized with her but couldn’t offer any relief since her hardships were irreversible. Alexander was expected to arrive soon, so the Emperor of Austria informed his daughter that the Russian leader wanted to see her. At first, Maria Louisa firmly refused to meet him, sticking to her decision for quite a while. She told her father, “Would he too make me a prisoner right in front of you? If he comes in here forcefully, I’ll go to my room. I doubt he’ll dare follow me while you’re here.” But time was running out; Francis II. heard the Emperor of Russia’s carriage rolling through the courtyard of Rambouillet, and his pleas to his daughter grew more urgent. Finally, she relented, and the Emperor of Austria went to greet his ally and guide him to the room where Maria Louisa waited, out of respect for her father. However, she didn’t go so far as to give a warm reception to the man she blamed for all her troubles. She listened with notable indifference to Alexander's offers and reassurances, simply responding that all she wanted was the freedom to return to her family. A few days after this difficult meeting, Maria Louisa and her son left for Vienna.






 —[A few days after this visit Alexander paid his respects to
   Bonaparte's other wife, Josephine. In this great breaking up of
   empires and kingdoms the unfortunate Josephine, who had been
   suffering agonies on account of the husband who had abandoned her,
   was not forgotten. One of the first things the Emperor of Russia
   did on arriving at Paris was to despatch a guard for the protection
   of her beautiful little palace at Malmaison. The Allied sovereigns
   treated her with delicacy and consideration.

   "As soon as the Emperor Alexander knew that the Empress Josephine
   had arrived at Malmaison he hastened to pay her a visit. It is not
   possible to be more amiable than he was to her. When in the course
   of conversation he spoke of the occupation of Paris by the Allies,
   and of the position of the Emperor Napoleon, it was always in
   perfectly measured language: he never forgot for a single instant
   that he was speaking before one who had been the wife of his
   vanquished enemy. On her side the ex-Empress did not conceal the
   tender sentiments, the lively affection she still entertained for
   Napoleon. . . . Alexander had certainly something elevated and
   magnanimous in his character, which would not permit him to say a
   single word capable of insulting misfortune; the Empress had only
   one prayer to make to him, and that was for her children."]— 
 —[A few days after this visit, Alexander went to see Bonaparte's other wife, Josephine. In this significant upheaval of empires and kingdoms, the unfortunate Josephine, who had been suffering greatly due to her husband's abandonment, was not overlooked. One of the first things the Emperor of Russia did upon arriving in Paris was to send a guard to protect her lovely little palace at Malmaison. The Allied leaders treated her with care and respect.

   "As soon as Emperor Alexander learned that Empress Josephine had arrived at Malmaison, he quickly went to visit her. He could not have been more gracious. When, during their conversation, he mentioned the Allies' occupation of Paris and the situation of Emperor Napoleon, he did so with perfectly measured words: he never forgot for a moment that he was speaking to the wife of his defeated adversary. In turn, the former Empress did not hide her deep feelings and strong affection for Napoleon. . . . Alexander certainly possessed an elevated and magnanimous character that prevented him from saying anything that might insult her misfortunes; the Empress had only one request to make of him, and that was for her children."]—







      This visit was soon followed by those of the other Allied Princes.
    
This visit was quickly followed by those of the other Allied leaders.






   "The King of Prussia and the Princes, his sons, came rather
   frequently to pay their court to Josephine; they even dined with her
   several times at Malmaison; but the Emperor Alexander come much more
   frequently. The Queen Hortense was always with her mother when she
   received the sovereigns, and assisted her in doing the honours of
   the house. The illustrious strangers exceedingly admired Malmaison,
   which seemed to them a charming residence. They were particularly
   struck with the fine gardens and conservatories."

   From this moment, however, Josephine's health rapidly declined, and
   she did not live to see Napoleon's return from Elba. She often said
   to her attendant, "I do not know what is the matter with me, but at
   times I have fits of melancholy enough to kill me." But on the very
   brink of the grave she retained all her amiability, all her love of
   dress, and the graces and resources of a drawing-room society. The
   immediate cause of her death was a bad cold she caught in taking a
   drive in the park of Malmaison on a damp cold day. She expired on
   the noon of Sunday, the 26th of May, in the fifty-third year of her
   age. Her body was embalmed, and on the sixth day after her death
   deposited in a vault in the church of Ruel, close to Malmaison. The
   funeral ceremonies were magnificent, but a better tribute to the
   memory of Josephine was to be found in the tears with which her
   children, her servants, the neighbouring poor, and all that knew her
   followed her to the grave. In 1826 a beautiful monument was erected
   over her remains by Eugène Beauharnais and his sisters with this
   simple inscription:

               TO JOSEPHINE.

           EUGENE.      HORTENSE.

   "The King of Prussia and his sons visited Josephine quite often; they even dined with her several times at Malmaison. However, Emperor Alexander came by much more frequently. Queen Hortense was always with her mother when they hosted these dignitaries, helping her with the hospitality. The distinguished visitors greatly admired Malmaison, finding it a lovely home. They were especially impressed by the beautiful gardens and greenhouses."

   From that point on, Josephine's health quickly deteriorated, and she did not live to see Napoleon return from Elba. She often told her attendant, "I don't know what's wrong with me, but sometimes I feel so melancholic that it could kill me." Even on the edge of death, she maintained her charm, love for fashion, and the grace of a socialite. The cause of her death was a severe cold she caught while taking a drive in the Malmaison park on a damp, chilly day. She passed away at noon on Sunday, May 26th, at the age of fifty-three. Her body was embalmed, and six days later, it was laid to rest in a vault in the church of Ruel, near Malmaison. The funeral was grand, but a more heartfelt tribute to Josephine's memory was the tears shed by her children, her staff, the local poor, and all who knew her as they followed her to the grave. In 1826, a beautiful monument was erected over her remains by Eugène Beauharnais and his sisters, featuring this simple inscription:

               TO JOSEPHINE.

           EUGENE.      HORTENSE.








 


 




















      CHAPTER II.
    



      1814.
    
1814.


   Italy and Eugène—Siege of Dantzic-Capitulation concluded but not
   ratified-Rapp made prisoner and sent to Kiew—Davoust's refusal to
   believe the intelligence from Paris—Projected assassination of one
   of the French Princes—Departure of Davoust and General Hogendorff
   from Hamburg—The affair of Manbreuil—Arrival of the Commissioners
   of the Allied powers at Fontainebleau—Preference shown by Napoleon
   to Colonel Campbell—Bonaparte's address to General Kohler—His
   farewell to his troops—First day of Napoleon's journey—The
   Imperial Guard succeeded by the Cossacks—Interview with Augereau—
   The first white cockades—Napoleon hanged in effigy at Orgon—His
   escape in the disguise of a courier—Scene in the inn of La Calade—
   Arrival at Aix—The Princess Pauline—Napoleon embarks for Elba—His
   life at Elba.

   Italy and Eugène—Siege of Danzig—Capitulation completed but not confirmed—Rapp captured and sent to Kiev—Davoust's disbelief in the news from Paris—Planned assassination of one of the French Princes—Departure of Davoust and General Hogendorff from Hamburg—The incident involving Manbreuil—Arrival of the Commissioners of the Allied powers at Fontainebleau—Napoleon's preference for Colonel Campbell—Bonaparte's speech to General Kohler—His farewell to his troops—First day of Napoleon's journey—The Imperial Guard replaced by the Cossacks—Meeting with Augereau—The first white cockades—Napoleon hanged in effigy at Orgon—His escape disguised as a courier—Scene at the inn of La Calade—Arrival at Aix—The Princess Pauline—Napoleon departs for Elba—His life on Elba.







      I must now direct the attention of the reader to Italy, which was the
      cradle of Napoleon's glory, and towards which he transported himself in
      imagination from the Palace of Fontainebleau. Eugène had succeeded in
      keeping up his means of defence until April, but on the 7th of that month,
      being positively informed of the overwhelming reverses of France, he found
      himself constrained to accede to the propositions of the Marshal de
      Bellegarde to treat for the evacuation of Italy; and on the 10th a
      convention was concluded, in which it was stipulated that the French
      troops, under the command of Eugène, should return within the limits of
      old France. The clauses of this convention were executed on the 19th of
      April.
    
I now need to turn the reader's attention to Italy, which was the birthplace of Napoleon's glory, and to which he mentally transported himself from the Palace of Fontainebleau. Eugène had managed to maintain his defenses until April, but on the 7th of that month, after being informed of France's crushing defeats, he felt he had no choice but to agree to Marshal de Bellegarde's proposals to negotiate the evacuation of Italy; and on the 10th, a pact was made stating that the French troops, led by Eugène, would return to the borders of old France. The terms of this agreement were carried out on April 19th.






 —[Lord William Bentinck and Sir Edward Pellew had taken Genoa on
   the 18th Of April. Murat was in the field with the Austrians
   against the French.]— 
—[Lord William Bentinck and Sir Edward Pellew captured Genoa on April 18th. Murat was on the battlefield with the Austrians fighting against the French.]—







      Eugène, thinking that the Senate of Milan was favourably disposed towards
      him, solicited that body to use its influence in obtaining the consent of
      the Allied powers to his continuance at the head of the Government of
      Italy; but this proposition was rejected by the Senate. A feeling of
      irritation pervaded the public mind in Italy, and the army had not
      proceeded three marches beyond Mantua when an insurrection broke out in
      Milan. The Finance Minister, Pizna, was assassinated, and his residence
      demolished, and nothing would have saved the Viceroy from a similar fate
      had he been in his capital. Amidst this popular excitement, and the
      eagerness of the Italians to be released from the dominion of the French,
      the friends of Eugène thought him fortunate in being able to join his
      father-in-law at Munich almost incognito.
    
Eugène, believing that the Senate of Milan was on his side, asked them to use their influence to get the Allied powers to agree to let him continue as the head of the Government of Italy; however, this proposal was turned down by the Senate. There was a growing sense of frustration among the public in Italy, and the army hadn't even marched three times beyond Mantua when an uprising erupted in Milan. The Finance Minister, Pizna, was murdered, and his home was destroyed, and nothing could have spared the Viceroy from a similar fate had he been in his capital. In the midst of this public unrest and the Italians' desire to break free from French control, Eugène's supporters saw him as lucky to be able to join his father-in-law in Munich almost incognito.






 —[Some time after Eugène visited France and had a long audience of
   Louis XVIII. He announced himself to that monarch by his father's
   title of Marquis de Beauharnais. The King immediately saluted him
   by the title of Monsieur le Marechal, and proposed that he should
   reside in France with that rank. But this invitation Eugène
   declined, because as a French Prince under the fallen Government he
   had commanded the Marshals, and he therefore could not submit to be
   the last in rank among those illustrious military chiefs.
   Bourrienne.]— 
 —[Some time after Eugène visited France and had a long meeting with Louis XVIII, he introduced himself to the King by using his father's title of Marquis de Beauharnais. The King immediately addressed him as Monsieur le Maréchal and suggested that he should live in France with that rank. However, Eugène declined the invitation because, as a French Prince under the previous government, he had commanded the Marshals, and he couldn't accept being ranked below those distinguished military leaders. Bourrienne.]—







      Thus, at the expiration of nine years, fell the iron crown which Napoleon
      had placed on his head saying, "Dieu me l'a donne; gare a qui la touche."
    
Thus, at the end of nine years, the iron crown that Napoleon had put on his head fell, saying, "God gave it to me; beware of anyone who tries to touch it."







      I will now take a glance at the affairs of Germany. Rapp was not in France
      at the period of the fall of the Empire. He had, with extraordinary
      courage and skill, defended himself against a year's siege at Dantzic. At
      length, being reduced to the last extremity, and constrained to surrender,
      he opened the gates of the city, which presented nothing but heaps of
      ruins. Rapp had stipulated that the garrison of Dantzic should return to
      France, and the Duke of Wurtemberg, who commanded the siege, had consented
      to that condition; but the Emperor of Russia having refused to ratify it,
      Rapp, having no means of defence, was made prisoner with his troops; and
      conducted to Kiew, whence he afterwards returned to Paris, where I saw
      him.
    
I will now take a look at the situation in Germany. Rapp wasn't in France during the collapse of the Empire. With incredible courage and skill, he defended himself during a year-long siege in Danzig. Finally, after being pushed to the brink and forced to surrender, he opened the gates of the city, which was nothing but piles of rubble. Rapp had negotiated for the Danzig garrison to return to France, and the Duke of Wurtemberg, who was in charge of the siege, had agreed to that condition; however, the Emperor of Russia refused to endorse it. With no way to defend himself, Rapp was captured along with his troops and taken to Kiew, from which he later returned to Paris, where I saw him.







      Hamburg still held out, but at the beginning of April intelligence was
      received there of the extraordinary events which had delivered Europe from
      her oppressor. Davoust refused to believe this news, which at once
      annihilated all his hopes of power and greatness. This blindness was
      persisted in for some time at Hamburg. Several hawkers, who were marked
      out by the police as having been the circulators of Paris news, were shot.
      An agent of the Government publicly announced his design of assassinating
      one of the French Princes, in whose service he was said to have been as a
      page. He said he would go to his Royal Highness and solicit to be
      appointed one of his aides de camp, and that, if the application were
      refused, as it probably would be, the refusal would only confirm him in
      his purpose.
    
Hamburg was still holding out, but at the start of April, they received news about the incredible events that had freed Europe from its oppressor. Davoust refused to believe this information, which instantly crushed all his hopes for power and greatness. This denial lasted for some time in Hamburg. Several street vendors, identified by the police as spreading news from Paris, were executed. A government agent publicly declared his intention to assassinate one of the French Princes, claiming he had served as a page for him. He stated he would approach his Royal Highness and request to be appointed as one of his aides-de-camp, and that if his request was denied, which was likely, the denial would only strengthen his resolve.







      At length, when the state of things was beyond the possibility of doubt,
      Davoust assembled the troops, acquainted them with the dethronement of the
      Emperor, hoisted a flag of truce, and sent his adhesion to the Provisional
      Government. All then thought of their personal safety, without losing
      sight of their honestly-acquired wealth. Diamonds and other objects of
      value and small bulk were hastily collected and packed up. The Governor of
      Hamburg, Count Hogendorff, who, in spite of some signal instances of
      opposition, had too often co-operated in severe and vexatious measures,
      was the first to quit the city. He was, indeed, hurried off by Davoust;
      because he had mounted the Orange cockade and wished to take his Dutch
      troops away with him. After consigning the command to General Gerard,
      Davoust quitted Hamburg, and arrived at Paris on the 18th of June.
    
Eventually, when it became clear that the situation was hopeless, Davoust gathered the troops, informed them about the Emperor’s removal from power, raised a truce flag, and signaled his support for the Provisional Government. Everyone then focused on their personal safety while also being mindful of their hard-earned possessions. Diamonds and other valuable small items were quickly collected and packed away. The Governor of Hamburg, Count Hogendorff, who, despite some notable instances of resistance, had often collaborated in harsh and annoying measures, was the first to leave the city. He was actually rushed out by Davoust because he had put on the Orange cockade and wanted to take his Dutch troops with him. After handing over command to General Gerard, Davoust left Hamburg and reached Paris on June 18th.







      I have left Napoleon at Fontainebleau. The period of his departure for
      Elba was near at hand: it was fixed for the 17th of April.
    
I have left Napoleon at Fontainebleau. His departure for Elba was coming up soon: it was set for April 17th.







      On that day Maubreuil, a man who has become unfortunately celebrated,
      presented himself at the Post-office, and asked to speak with me. He
      showed me some written orders, signed by General Sacken, the Commander of
      the Russian troops in Palls, and by Baron Brackenhausen, chief of the
      staff. These orders set forth that Maubreuil was entrusted with an
      important mission, for the execution of which he was authorised to demand
      the assistance of the Russian troops; and the commanders of those men were
      enjoined to place at his disposal as many troops as he might apply for.
      Maubreuil was also the bearer of similar orders from General Dupont, the
      War Minister, and from M. Angles, the Provisional Commissary-General of
      the Police, who directed all the other commissaries to obey the orders
      they might receive from Maubreuil. On seeing these documents, of the
      authenticity of which there was no doubt, I immediately ordered the
      different postmasters to provide Maubreuil promptly with any number of
      horses he might require.
    
On that day, Maubreuil, a man who had unfortunately become well-known, came to the Post Office and asked to speak with me. He showed me some written orders signed by General Sacken, the commander of the Russian troops in Palls, and by Baron Brackenhausen, the Chief of Staff. These orders stated that Maubreuil was given an important mission, and he was authorized to request the assistance of the Russian troops. The commanders of these troops were instructed to provide him with as many soldiers as he needed. Maubreuil also carried similar orders from General Dupont, the War Minister, and from M. Angles, the Provisional Commissary-General of the Police, who instructed all other commissaries to follow any orders they received from Maubreuil. After seeing these documents, the authenticity of which was unquestionable, I immediately instructed the different postmasters to ensure Maubreuil received as many horses as he required without delay.







      Some days after I was informed that the object of Maubreuil's mission was
      to assassinate Napoleon. It may readily be imagined what was my
      astonishment on hearing this, after I had seen the signature of the
      Commander of the Russian forces, and knowing as I did the intentions of
      the Emperor Alexander. The fact is, I did not, and never can, believe that
      such was the intention of Maubreuil. This man has been accused of having
      carried off the jewels of the Queen of Westphalia.
    
A few days later, I learned that Maubreuil's mission was to assassinate Napoleon. You can imagine my shock upon hearing this, especially after seeing the signature of the Commander of the Russian forces and knowing what Emperor Alexander intended. Honestly, I do not, and never will, believe that Maubreuil had such intentions. This man has been accused of stealing the jewels of the Queen of Westphalia.







      Napoleon having consented to proceed to the island of Elba, conformably
      with the treaty he had ratified on the 13th, requested to be accompanied
      to the place of embarkation by a Commissioner from each of the Allied
      powers. Count Schouwaloff was appointed by Russia, Colonel Neil Campbell
      by England, General Kohler by Austria, and Count Waldbourg-Truchess by
      Prussia. On the 16th the four Commissioners came for the first time to
      Fontainebleau, where the Emperor, who was still attended by Generals
      Drouot and Bertrand, gave to each a private audience on the following day.
    
Napoleon agreed to go to the island of Elba, according to the treaty he signed on the 13th, and asked to have a Commissioner from each of the Allied powers join him at the embarkation point. Count Schouwaloff was appointed by Russia, Colonel Neil Campbell by England, General Kohler by Austria, and Count Waldbourg-Truchess by Prussia. On the 16th, the four Commissioners arrived for the first time at Fontainebleau, where the Emperor, still accompanied by Generals Drouot and Bertrand, gave each of them a private audience the next day.







      Though Napoleon received with coldness the Commissioners whom he had
      himself solicited, yet that coldness was far from being manifested in an
      equal degree to all. He who experienced the best reception was Colonel
      Campbell, apparently because his person exhibited traces of wounds.
      Napoleon asked him in what battles he had received them, and on what
      occasions he had been invested with the orders he wore. He next questioned
      him as to the place of his birth, and Colonel Campbell having answered
      that he was a Scotchman, Napoleon congratulated him on being the
      countryman of Ossian, his favourite author, with whose poetry, however, he
      was only acquainted through the medium of wretched translations. On this
      first audience Napoleon said to the Colonel, "I have cordially hated the
      English. I have made war against you by every possible means, but I esteem
      your nation. I am convinced that there is more generosity in your
      Government than in any other. I should like to be conveyed from Toulon to
      Elba by an English frigate."
    
Though Napoleon received the Commissioners he had requested with indifference, that coldness was not equally directed at everyone. The one who received the warmest welcome was Colonel Campbell, seemingly because his appearance showed signs of battle wounds. Napoleon asked him in which battles he had received them and when he had been awarded the honors he wore. He then inquired about his birthplace, and when Colonel Campbell responded that he was Scottish, Napoleon congratulated him on being the countryman of Ossian, his favorite author, although he had only experienced his poetry through poor translations. During this first meeting, Napoleon told the Colonel, "I have strongly disliked the English. I have fought against you in every way possible, but I respect your nation. I believe there is more generosity in your Government than in any other. I would like to be taken from Toulon to Elba by an English frigate."







      The Austrian and Russian Commissioners were received coolly, but without
      any marked indications of displeasure. It was not so with the Prussian
      Commissioner, to whom he said duly, "Are there any Prussians in my
      escort?"—"No, Sire."—"Then why do you take the trouble to
      accompany me?"—"Sire, it is not a trouble, but an honour."—"These
      are mere words; you have nothing to do here."—"Sire, I could not
      possibly decline the honourable mission with which the King my master has
      entrusted me." At these words Napoleon turned his back on Count Truchess.
    
The Austrian and Russian Commissioners were welcomed somewhat coldly, but without any clear signs of discontent. The same couldn't be said for the Prussian Commissioner, to whom he said, "Are there any Prussians in my escort?" — "No, Sire." — "Then why bother to accompany me?" — "Sire, it’s not a bother; it’s an honor." — "Those are just words; you have no reason to be here." — "Sire, I simply couldn’t turn down the honorable mission that the King my master has given me." At these words, Napoleon turned his back on Count Truchess.







      The Commissioners expected that Napoleon would be ready to set out without
      delay; but they were deceived. He asked for a sight of the itinerary of
      his route, and wished to make some alterations in it. The Commissioners
      were reluctant to oppose his wish, for they had been instructed to treat
      him with all the respect and etiquette due to a sovereign. They therefore
      suspended the departure, and, as they could not take upon themselves to
      acquiesce in the changes wished for by the Emperor, they applied for fresh
      orders. On the night of the 18th of April they received these orders,
      authorising them to travel by any road the Emperor might prefer. The
      departure was then definitively fixed for the 20th.
    
The Commissioners expected Napoleon to leave right away, but they were mistaken. He wanted to see the itinerary for his route and suggested some changes. The Commissioners were hesitant to deny his request because they were told to treat him with the respect and protocol appropriate for a ruler. So, they postponed the departure and, since they couldn’t agree to the changes he wanted, they asked for new orders. On the night of April 18th, they got those orders, allowing them to take whatever route the Emperor preferred. The departure was then officially set for the 20th.







      Accordingly, at ten on the morning of the 20th, the carriages were in
      readiness, and the Imperial Guard was drawn up in the grand court of the
      Palace of Fontainebleau, called the Cour du Cheval Blanc. All the
      population of the town and the neighbouring villages thronged round the
      Palace. Napoleon sent for General Kohler, the Austrian Commissioner, and
      said to him, "I have reflected on what I ought to do, and I am determined
      not to depart. The Allies are not faithful to their engagements with me. I
      can, therefore, revoke my abdication, which was only conditional. More
      than a thousand addresses were delivered to me last night: I am conjured
      to resume the reins of government. I renounced my rights to the crown only
      to avert the horrors of a civil war, having never had any other object in
      view than the glory and happiness of France. But, seeing as I now do, the
      dissatisfaction inspired by the measures of the new Government, I can
      explain to my Guard the reasons which induced me to revoke my abdication.
      It is true that the number of troops on which I can count will scarcely
      exceed 30,000 men, but it will be easy for me to increase their numbers to
      130,000. Know, then, that I can also, without injuring my honour, say to
      my Guard, that having nothing but the repose and happiness of the country
      at heart, I renounce all my rights, and exhort my troops to follow my
      example, and yield to the wish of the nation."
    
Accordingly, at ten in the morning on the 20th, the carriages were ready, and the Imperial Guard was lined up in the grand courtyard of the Palace of Fontainebleau, known as the Cour du Cheval Blanc. The entire town and surrounding villages gathered around the Palace. Napoleon summoned General Kohler, the Austrian Commissioner, and said, "I have thought about what I should do, and I am determined not to leave. The Allies are not keeping their promises to me. Therefore, I can revoke my abdication, which was only conditional. More than a thousand messages were delivered to me last night: I am urged to take back control of the government. I gave up my rights to the crown only to prevent the horrors of a civil war, having never aimed for anything other than the glory and happiness of France. But, seeing the dissatisfaction caused by the new Government's actions, I can explain to my Guard why I choose to revoke my abdication. It's true that the number of troops I can count on will barely exceed 30,000, but I can easily boost their numbers to 130,000. So, know that I can also, without compromising my honor, tell my Guard that, with only the peace and happiness of the country in mind, I renounce all my rights and encourage my troops to follow my lead and respect the wishes of the nation."







      I heard these words reported by General Kohler himself, after his return
      from his mission. He did not disguise the embarrassment which this
      unexpected address had occasioned; and I recollect having remarked at the
      time that had Bonaparte, at the commencement of the campaign of Paris,
      renounced his rights and returned to the rank of citizen, the immense
      masses of the Allies must have yielded to the efforts of France. General
      Kohler also stated that Napoleon complained of Maria Louisa not being
      allowed to accompany him; but at length, yielding to the reasons urged by
      those about him, he added, "Well, I prefer remaining faithful to my
      promise; but if I have any new ground of complaint, I will free myself
      from all my engagements."
    
I heard these words directly from General Kohler after he got back from his mission. He didn’t hide the discomfort that this unexpected speech had caused him; I remember noting at the time that if Bonaparte had given up his rights at the start of the Paris campaign and returned to being a regular citizen, the massive forces of the Allies would likely have given in to France's efforts. General Kohler also mentioned that Napoleon was upset about Maria Louisa not being allowed to be with him; however, eventually, after considering the reasons given by those around him, he said, "Well, I prefer to stick to my promise; but if I have any new reasons to complain, I will free myself from all my commitments."







      At eleven o'clock Comte de Bussy, one of the Emperor's aides de camp, was
      sent by the Grand Marshal (General Bertrand) to announce that all was
      ready for departure. "Am I;" said Napoleon, "to regulate my actions by the
      Grand Marshal's watch? I will go when I please. Perhaps I may not go at
      all. Leave me!"
    
At eleven o'clock, Comte de Bussy, one of the Emperor's aides, was sent by the Grand Marshal (General Bertrand) to let him know that everything was ready for departure. "Am I," Napoleon said, "supposed to plan my actions based on the Grand Marshal's watch? I'll leave when I want. Maybe I won't leave at all. Just go!"







      All the forms of courtly etiquette which Napoleon loved so much were
      observed; and when at length he was pleased to leave his cabinet to enter
      the salon, where the Commissioners were waiting; the doors were thrown
      open as usual, and "The Emperor" was announced; but no sooner was the word
      uttered than he turned back again. However, he soon reappeared, rapidly
      crossed the gallery, and descended the staircase, and at twelve o'clock
      precisely he stood at the head of his Guard, as if at a review in the
      court of the Tuileries in the brilliant days of the Consulate and the
      Empire.
    
All the rules of polite behavior that Napoleon adored were followed; and when he finally decided to leave his office to enter the salon, where the Commissioners were waiting, the doors were opened as usual, and "The Emperor" was announced; but as soon as the word was said, he turned back again. However, he quickly came back, hurried across the gallery, and went down the staircase, and right at noon, he stood at the front of his Guard, just like during a review in the court of the Tuileries in the glorious days of the Consulate and the Empire.







      Then took place a really moving scene—Napoleon's farewell to his
      soldiers. Of this I may abstain from entering into any details, since they
      are known everywhere, and by everybody, but I may subjoin the Emperor's
      last address to his old companions-in-arms, because it belongs to history.
      This address was pronounced in a voice as firm and sonorous as that in
      which Bonaparte used to harangue his troops in the days of his triumphs.
      It was as follows:
    
Then a truly emotional moment happened—Napoleon's goodbye to his soldiers. I won't go into details since everyone knows about it, but I will include the Emperor's final speech to his old comrades because it’s part of history. He delivered this speech in a voice as strong and clear as when Bonaparte used to rally his troops during his victories. It was as follows:






   "Soldiers of my Old Guard, I bid you farewell. For twenty years I
   have constantly accompanied you on the road to honour and glory. In
   these latter times, as in the days of our prosperity, you have
   invariably been models of courage and fidelity. With men such as
   you our cause could not be lost, but the war would have been
   interminable; it would have been civil war, and that would have
   entailed deeper misfortunes on France. I have sacrificed all my
   interests to those of the country. I go; but you, my friends, will
   continue to serve France. Her happiness was my only thought.. It
   will still be the object of my wishes. Do not regret my fate: if I
   have consented to survive, it is to serve your glory. I intend to
   write the history of the great achievements we have performed
   together. Adieu, my friends. Would I could press you all to my,
   heart!"

   "Soldiers of my Old Guard, I say goodbye. For twenty years, I've been by your side on the path to honor and glory. In recent times, just like in our days of success, you have always shown incredible courage and loyalty. With men like you, our cause could never have been lost, but it would have dragged on forever; it would have turned into a civil war, leading to even worse troubles for France. I've put aside all my personal interests for the sake of our country. I'm leaving, but you, my friends, will keep serving France. Her happiness was my only concern. It will continue to be my wish. Don’t feel sorry for me: if I've agreed to live on, it’s to serve your glory. I plan to write the history of the great things we've accomplished together. Goodbye, my friends. If only I could hold each of you close to my heart!"







      During the first day cries of "Vive l'Empereur!" resounded along the road,
      and Napoleon, resorting to his usual dissimulation, censured the
      disloyalty of the people to their legitimate sovereign, which he did with
      ill disguised irony. The Guard accompanied him as far as Briars. At that
      place Napoleon invited Colonel Campbell to breakfast with him. He
      conversed on the last war in Spain, and spoke in complimentary terms of
      the English nation and the military talents of Wellington. Yet by that
      time he must have heard of the battle of Toulouse.
    
On the first day, shouts of "Long live the Emperor!" echoed along the road, and Napoleon, using his usual deceit, criticized the people's disloyalty to their rightful leader, doing so with barely concealed irony. The Guard went with him as far as Briars. There, Napoleon invited Colonel Campbell to have breakfast with him. They talked about the recent war in Spain, and he praised the English people and Wellington's military skills. By that time, he must have already heard about the battle of Toulouse.







      On the night of the 21st Napoleon slept at Nevers, where he was received
      by the acclamations of the people, who here, as in several other towns,
      mingled their cries in favour of their late sovereign with imprecations
      against the Commissioners of the Allies. He left Nevers at six on the
      morning of the 22d. Napoleon was now no longer escorted by the Guards, who
      were succeeded by a corps of Cossacks: the cries of "Vive l'Empereur!"
      accordingly ceased, and he had the mortification to hear in its stead,
      "Vivent les Allies!" However, I have been informed that at Lyons, through
      which the Emperor passed on the 23d at eleven at night, the cry of "Vive
      l'Empereur!" was still echoed among the groups who assembled before the
      post-office during the change of horses.
    
On the night of the 21st, Napoleon stayed in Nevers, where he was greeted by cheers from the people. Here, as in several other towns, they mixed their shouts of support for their former ruler with curses against the Commissioners of the Allies. He left Nevers at six in the morning on the 22nd. Napoleon was no longer accompanied by the Guards, who were replaced by a group of Cossacks. As a result, the cheers of "Vive l'Empereur!" died down, and he faced the disappointment of hearing instead, "Vivent les Allies!" However, I’ve heard that in Lyons, where the Emperor passed through on the 23rd at eleven at night, the shout of "Vive l'Empereur!" was still heard among the gatherings in front of the post office during the change of horses.







      Augereau, who was still a Republican, though he accepted the title of Duke
      of Castiglione from Napoleon, had always been among the discontented. On
      the downfall of the Emperor he was one of that considerable number of
      persons who turned Royalists not out of love for the Bourbons but out of
      hatred to Bonaparte. He held a command in the south when he heard of the
      forfeiture of Napoleon pronounced by the Senate, and he was one of the
      first to send his recognition to the Provisional Government. Augereau,
      who, like all uneducated men, went to extremes in everything, had
      published under his name a proclamation extravagantly violent and even
      insulting to the Emperor. Whether Napoleon was aware of this proclamation
      I cannot pretend to say, but he affected ignorance of the matter if he was
      informed of it, for on the 24th, having met Augereau at a little distance
      from Valence, he stopped his carriage and immediately alighted. Augereau
      did the same, and they cordially embraced in the presence of the
      Commissioners. It was remarked that in saluting Napoleon took off his hat
      and Augereau kept on his. "Where are you going?", said the Emperor; "to
      Court?"—"No, I am going to Lyons."—"You have behaved very
      badly to me." Augereau, finding that the Emperor addressed him in the
      second person singular, adopted the same familiarity; so they conversed as
      they were accustomed to do when they were both generals in Italy. "Of what
      do you complain?" said he. "Has not your insatiable ambition brought us to
      this? Have you not sacrificed everything to that ambition, even the
      happiness of France? I care no more for the Bourbons than for you. All I
      care for is the country." Upon this Napoleon turned sharply away from the
      Marshal, lifted his hat to him, and then stepped into his carriage. The
      Commissioners, and all the persons in Napoleon's suite, were indignant at
      seeing Augereau stand in the road still covered, with his hands behind his
      back, and instead of bowing, merely making a contemptuous salutation to
      Napoleon with his hand. It was at the Tuileries that these haughty
      Republicans should have shown their airs. To have done so on the road to
      Elba was a mean insult which recoiled upon themselves.
    
Augereau, still a Republican despite accepting the title of Duke of Castiglione from Napoleon, had always been among the dissatisfied. When the Emperor fell, he was one of many who became Royalists—not out of love for the Bourbons, but out of hatred for Bonaparte. He was in command in the south when he heard about the Senate's decision to remove Napoleon, and he was one of the first to acknowledge the Provisional Government. Augereau, like many uneducated people, often went to extremes and had published a proclamation that was overly aggressive and even disrespectful to the Emperor. I can't say for sure if Napoleon knew about this proclamation, but if he did, he pretended not to, because on the 24th, after encountering Augereau a short distance from Valence, he stopped his carriage and immediately got out. Augereau did the same, and they embraced warmly in front of the Commissioners. It was noted that when they greeted each other, Napoleon took off his hat while Augereau kept his on. "Where are you headed?" asked the Emperor; "to Court?"—"No, I'm going to Lyons."—"You've treated me very badly." Since the Emperor addressed him informally, Augereau did the same, and they chatted as they used to when they were both generals in Italy. "What are you complaining about?" he asked. "Hasn't your endless ambition led us to this? Haven't you sacrificed everything for that ambition, even France's happiness? I care no more for the Bourbons than for you. All I care about is the country." At this, Napoleon turned away sharply from the Marshal, tipped his hat to him, and stepped back into his carriage. The Commissioners and everyone in Napoleon's entourage were outraged to see Augereau standing in the road still wearing his hat, with his hands behind his back, and rather than bowing, he simply gave a dismissive salute to Napoleon. These arrogant Republicans should have displayed their airs at the Tuileries. To do so on the road to Elba was a petty insult that backfired on them.






 —[The following letter, taken from Captain Bingham's recently
   published selections from the Correspondence of the first Napoleon,
   indicates in emphatic language the Emperor's recent dissatisfaction
   with Marshal Augereau when in command at Lyons during the "death
   struggle" of 1814:

   To Marshal Augereau.

               NOGENT, 21st February, 1814,

   ....What! six hours after having received the first troops coming
   from Spain you were not in the field! Six hours repose was
   sufficient. I won the action of Naugis with a brigade of dragoons
   coming from Spain which, since it had left Bayonne, had not
   unbridled its horses. The six battalions of the division of Nimes
   want clothes, equipment, and drilling, say you? What poor reasons
   you give me there, Augereau! I have destroyed 80,000 enemies with
   conscripts having nothing but knapsacks! The National Guards, say
   you, are pitiable; I have 4000 here in round hats, without
   knapsacks, in wooden shoes, but with good muskets, and I get a great
   deal out of them. There is no money, you continue; and where do you
   hope to draw money from! You want waggons; take them wherever you
   can. You have no magazines; this is too ridiculous. I order you
   twelve hours after the reception of this letter to take the field.
   If you are still Augereau of Castiglione, keep the command, but if
   your sixty years weigh upon you hand over the command to your senior
   general. The country is in danger; and can be saved by boldness and
   alacrity alone....
                  (Signed)  NAPOLEON]— 
 —[The following letter, taken from Captain Bingham's recently published selections from the Correspondence of the first Napoleon, indicates in emphatic language the Emperor's recent dissatisfaction with Marshal Augereau when in command at Lyons during the "death struggle" of 1814:

   To Marshal Augereau.

               NOGENT, February 21, 1814,

   ....What! Six hours after receiving the first troops arriving from Spain and you weren't in the field? Six hours of rest was enough. I won the battle of Naugis with a brigade of dragoons that came from Spain and hadn't even let their horses rest since leaving Bayonne. You say the six battalions of the division of Nimes need uniforms, equipment, and training? What weak excuses you give me, Augereau! I defeated 80,000 enemies with conscripts who had nothing but knapsacks! You say the National Guards are pitiful; I have 4000 here in round hats, without knapsacks, in wooden shoes, but with good muskets, and I get a lot out of them. You keep saying there's no money; where do you expect to get money? You need wagons; take them wherever you can find them. You have no supply depots; that’s too ridiculous. I order you to take the field within twelve hours of receiving this letter. If you are still Augereau of Castiglione, keep the command, but if your sixty years weigh you down, pass the command to your senior general. The country is in danger, and can only be saved by boldness and urgency alone....
                  (Signed)  NAPOLEON]—







      At Valence Napoleon, for the first time, saw French soldiers with the
      white cockade in their caps. They belonged to Augereau's corps. At Orange
      the air resounded with tunes of "Vive le Roi!" Here the gaiety, real or
      feigned, which Napoleon had hitherto evinced, began to forsake him.
    
At Valence, Napoleon saw French soldiers for the first time wearing the white cockade in their caps. They were part of Augereau's corps. In Orange, the sounds of "Vive le Roi!" filled the air. Here, the cheerfulness, whether genuine or pretend, that Napoleon had shown up until now began to leave him.







      Had the Emperor arrived at Avignon three hours later than he did there is
      no doubt that he would have been massacred.—[The Royalist mob of
      Avignon massacred Marshal Brune in 1816.]—He did not change horses
      at Avignon, through which he passed at five in the morning, but at St.
      Andiol, where he arrived at six. The Emperor, who was fatigued with
      sitting in the carriage, alighted with Colonel Campbell and General
      Bertrand, and walked with them up the first hill. His valet de chambre,
      who was also walking a little distance in advance, met one of the mail
      couriers, who said to him, "Those are the Emperor's carriages coming this
      way?"—"No, they are the equipages of the Allies."—"I say they
      are the Emperor's carriages. I am an old soldier. I served in the campaign
      of Egypt, and I will save the life of my General."—"I tell you again
      they are not the Emperor's carriages."—"Do not attempt to deceive
      me; I have just passed through Organ, where the Emperor has been hanged in
      effigy. The wretches erected a scaffold and hanged a figure dressed in a
      French uniform covered with blood. Perhaps I may get myself into a scrape
      by this confidence, but no matter. Do you profit by it." The courier then
      set off at full gallop. The valet de chambre took General Drouot apart,
      and told him what he had heard. Drouot communicated the circumstance to
      General Bertrand, who himself related it to the Emperor in the presence of
      the Commissioners. The latter, justly indignant, held a sort of council on
      the highway, and it was determined that the Emperor should go forward
      without his retinue. The valet de chambre was asked whether he had any
      clothes in the carriage. He produced a long blue cloak and a round hat. It
      was proposed to put a white cockade in the hat, but to this Napoleon would
      not consent. He went forward in the style of a courier, with Amaudru, one
      of the two outriders who had escorted his carriage, and dashed through
      Orgon. When the Allied Commissioners arrived there the assembled
      population were uttering exclamations of "Down with the Corsican! Down
      with the brigand!" The mayor of Orgon (the same man whom I had seen almost
      on his knees to General Bonaparte on his return from Egypt) addressed
      himself to Pelard, the Emperor's valet de chambre, and said, "Do you
      follow that rascal?"—"No," replied Pelard, "I am attached to the
      Commisairiers of the Allied powers."—Ah! that is well! I should like
      to hang the villain with my own hands.
    
Had the Emperor arrived in Avignon three hours later than he did, there’s no doubt he would have been killed. —[The Royalist mob of Avignon killed Marshal Brune in 1816.]— He didn’t change horses in Avignon, where he passed through at five in the morning, but at St. Andiol, where he got there at six. The Emperor, feeling tired from being in the carriage, got out with Colonel Campbell and General Bertrand and walked with them up the first hill. His valet, who was also walking a little ahead, ran into one of the mail couriers, who said to him, “Are those the Emperor's carriages coming this way?” —“No, they are the Allies' vehicles.” —“I say they are the Emperor's carriages. I’m an old soldier. I served in the Egyptian campaign, and I will save my General's life.” —“I tell you again, they are not the Emperor's carriages.” —“Don’t try to fool me; I just came through Organ, where they hanged his effigy. Those scoundrels set up a scaffold and hung a figure dressed in a bloody French uniform. I might get into trouble for saying this, but it doesn’t matter. You should take it seriously.” The courier then took off at full speed. The valet pulled General Drouot aside and told him what he heard. Drouot informed General Bertrand, who then shared it with the Emperor in front of the Commissioners. The Emperor, justifiably angry, held a sort of council on the road, and they decided that the Emperor should head out without his retinue. The valet was asked if he had any clothes in the carriage. He pulled out a long blue cloak and a round hat. It was suggested to put a white cockade in the hat, but Napoleon refused. He moved forward like a courier, with Amaudru, one of the two outriders who had escorted his carriage, and rushed through Orgon. When the Allied Commissioners arrived, the gathered crowd was shouting “Down with the Corsican! Down with the brigand!” The mayor of Orgon (the same man I had seen almost on his knees to General Bonaparte when he returned from Egypt) spoke to Pelard, the Emperor's valet, and said, “Are you following that scoundrel?” —“No,” replied Pelard, “I’m attached to the Commissioners of the Allied powers.” —“Ah! that’s good! I’d love to hang that villain myself.”







      "Ah! if you knew, sir, how the scoundrel has deceived us! It was I who
      received him on his return from Egypt. We wished to take his horses out
      and draw his carriage. I should like to avenge myself now for the honours
      I rendered him at that time."
    
"Ah! If you only knew, sir, how that sneak has tricked us! I was the one who welcomed him back from Egypt. We wanted to take his horses out and pull his carriage. I really want to get back at him for the respect I showed him back then."







      The crowd augmented, and continued to vociferate with a degree of fury
      which may be imagined by those who have heard the inhabitants of the south
      manifest, by cries, their joy or their hatred. Some more violent than the
      rest wished to force Napoleon's coachman to cry "Vive le Roi!" He
      courageously refused, though threatened with a stroke of a sabre, when,
      fortunately; the carriage being ready to start, he whipped the horses and
      set off at full gallop. The Commissioners would not breakfast at Orgon;
      they paid for what had been prepared, and took some refreshments away with
      them. The carriages did not overtake the Emperor until they came to La
      Calade, where he had arrived a quarter of an hour before with Amaudru.
    
The crowd grew larger and kept shouting with a level of anger that those familiar with the southerners—who express their joy or hatred through cries—can imagine. Some more aggressive individuals wanted to force Napoleon's coachman to shout "Vive le Roi!" He bravely refused, even when threatened with a saber, and luckily, just as the carriage was ready to leave, he whipped the horses and took off at full speed. The Commissioners decided not to have breakfast in Orgon; they paid for the food that had been prepared and took some snacks with them. The carriages didn't catch up to the Emperor until they reached La Calade, where he had arrived fifteen minutes earlier with Amaudru.







      They found him standing by the fire in the kitchen of the inn talking with
      the landlady. She had asked him whether the tyrant was soon to pass that
      way? "Ah! sir," said she, "it is all nonsense to say we have got rid of
      him. I always, have said, and always will say, that we shall never be sure
      of being done with him until he be laid at the bottom of a well, covered
      over with stones. I wish we had him safe in the well in our yard. You see,
      sir, the Directory sent him to Egypt to get rid of him; but he came back
      again! And he will come back again, you maybe sure of that, sir; unless—"
      Here the good woman, having finished skimming her pot, looked up and
      perceived that all the party were standing uncovered except the individual
      to whom, she had been speaking. She was confounded, and the embarrassment
      she experienced at having spoken so ill of the Emperor to the Emperor
      himself banished all her anger, and she lavished every mark of attention,
      and respect on Napoleon and his retinue. A messenger was immediately sent
      to Aix to purchase ribbons for making white cockades. All the carriages
      were brought into the courtyard of the inn, and the gate was closed; the
      landlady informed Napoleon that it would not be prudent for him to venture
      on passing through Aix, where a population of more than 20,000 were
      waiting to stone him.
    
They found him standing by the fire in the kitchen of the inn talking with the landlady. She had asked him if the tyrant was going to pass through soon. "Ah! sir," she said, "it's ridiculous to say we’ve gotten rid of him. I've always said, and I’ll keep saying, that we won’t be sure we’re done with him until he’s at the bottom of a well, covered with stones. I wish we had him safely in the well in our yard. You see, sir, the Directory sent him to Egypt to get rid of him, but he came back! And he’ll come back again, you can count on that, sir; unless—" Here the good woman, having finished skimming her pot, looked up and noticed that everyone was standing bareheaded except for the person she had been talking to. She was taken aback, and the embarrassment she felt from having spoken so poorly of the Emperor to him made her forget her anger, so she showered Napoleon and his accompanying officers with attention and respect. A messenger was immediately sent to Aix to buy ribbons for making white cockades. All the carriages were brought into the inn's courtyard, and the gate was closed; the landlady informed Napoleon that it wouldn’t be wise for him to try to pass through Aix, where a crowd of over 20,000 was waiting to stone him.







      Meanwhile dinner was served, and Napoleon sat down to table. He admirably
      disguised the agitation which he could not fail to experience, and I have
      been assured, by some of the individuals who were present on that
      remarkable occasion, that he never made himself more agreeable. His
      conversation, which was enriched by the resources of his memory and his
      imagination, charmed every one, and he remarked, with an air of
      indifference which was perhaps affected, "I believe the new French
      Government has a design on my life."
    
Meanwhile, dinner was served, and Napoleon took his seat at the table. He skillfully hid the nervousness he must have felt, and I've been told by several people who were there that he was never more charming. His conversation, filled with the wealth of his memory and creativity, captivated everyone, and he commented, with an air of indifference that might have been put on, "I believe the new French Government has plans for my life."







      The Commissioners, informed of what was going on at Aix, proposed sending
      to the Mayor an order for closing the gates and adopting measures for
      securing the public tranquillity. About fifty individuals had assembled
      round the inn, and one among them offered to carry a letter to the Mayor
      of Aix. The Commissioners accepted his services, and in their letter
      informed the Mayor that if the gates of the town were not closed within an
      hour they would advance with two regiments of uhlans and six pieces of
      artillery, and would fire upon all who might oppose them. This threat had
      the desired effect; and the Mayor returned for answer that the gates
      should be closed, and that he would take upon himself the responsibility
      of everything which might happen.
    
The Commissioners, aware of the situation in Aix, suggested sending an order to the Mayor to close the gates and implement measures to ensure public safety. About fifty people had gathered around the inn, and one of them offered to deliver a letter to the Mayor of Aix. The Commissioners accepted his help, and in their letter, they informed the Mayor that if the town's gates were not closed within an hour, they would advance with two regiments of uhlans and six pieces of artillery and would fire on anyone who stood in their way. This threat had the intended effect; the Mayor replied that the gates would be closed, and that he would take full responsibility for whatever might happen.







      The danger which threatened the Emperor at Aix was thus averted; but there
      was another to be braved. During the seven or eight hours he passed at La
      Calade a considerable number of people had gathered round the inn, and
      manifested every disposition to proceed to some excess. Most of them had
      in their hands five-franc pieces, in order to recognise the Emperor by his
      likeness on the coin. Napoleon, who had passed two nights without sleep,
      was in a little room adjoining the kitchen, where he had fallen into a
      slumber, reclining an the shoulder of his valet de chambre. In a moment of
      dejection he had said, "I now renounce the political world forever. I
      shall henceforth feel no interest about anything that may happen. At
      Porto-Ferrajo I may be happy—more happy than I have ever been! No!—if
      the crown of Europe were now offered to me I would not accept it. I will
      devote myself to science. I was right never to esteem mankind! But France
      and the French people—what ingratitude! I am disgusted with
      ambition, and I wish to rule no longer!"
    
The threat to the Emperor at Aix was averted, but there was another challenge to face. During the seven or eight hours he spent at La Calade, a significant crowd had gathered around the inn, showing every intention of going too far. Most of them held five-franc coins to recognize the Emperor by his image on the money. Napoleon, who had gone two nights without sleep, was in a small room next to the kitchen, where he had dozed off leaning on his valet's shoulder. In a moment of despair, he had said, "I've decided to leave the political world behind for good. From now on, I won’t care about anything that happens. In Porto-Ferrajo, I might find happiness—happier than I've ever been! No! If they offered me the crown of Europe right now, I wouldn’t take it. I’ll focus on science. I was right not to hold humanity in high regard! But France and the French people—what ingratitude! I’m tired of ambition, and I don’t want to rule anymore!"







      When the moment for departure arrived it was proposed that he should put
      on the greatcoat and fur cap of General Kohler, and that he should go into
      the carriage of the Austrian Commissioner. The Emperor, thus disguised,
      left the inn of La Calade, passing between two lines of spectators. On
      turning the walls of Aix Napoleon had again the mortification to hear the
      cries of "Down with the tyrant! Down with Nicolas!" and these
      vociferations resounded at the distance of a quarter of a league from the
      town.
    
When it was time to leave, it was suggested that he wear General Kohler's greatcoat and fur cap and take the carriage of the Austrian Commissioner. Disguised as such, the Emperor left the La Calade inn, moving between two lines of onlookers. As he turned around the walls of Aix, Napoleon experienced the humiliation of hearing shouts of "Down with the tyrant! Down with Nicolas!" These cries echoed from a quarter of a league away from the town.







      Bonaparte, dispirited by these manifestations of hatred, said, in a tone
      of mingled grief and contempt, "These Provencals are the same furious
      brawlers that they used to be. They committed frightful massacres at the
      commencement of the Revolution. Eighteen years ago I came to this part of
      the country with some thousand men to deliver two Royalists who were to be
      hanged. Their crime was having worn the white cockade. I saved them; but
      it was not without difficulty that I rescued them from the hands of their
      assailants; and now, you see, they resume the same excesses against those
      who refuse to wear the white cockade.". At about a league from Aix the
      Emperor and his retinue found horses and an escort of gendarmerie to
      conduct them to the chateau of Luc.
    
Bonaparte, feeling discouraged by these displays of hatred, said with a mix of sadness and disdain, "These people from Provence are just as wild and aggressive as they’ve always been. They committed horrible massacres at the start of the Revolution. Eighteen years ago, I came to this area with around a thousand men to rescue two Royalists who were about to be hanged. Their only crime was wearing the white cockade. I saved them, but it wasn't easy to get them away from their attackers; and now, you see, they’re back to their old ways, going after those who won’t wear the white cockade." About a league from Aix, the Emperor and his entourage found horses and a police escort to take them to the chateau of Luc.







      The Princess Pauline was at the country residence of M. Charles, member of
      the Legislative Body, near the castle of Luc. On hearing of the
      misfortunes of her brother she determined to accompany him to the isle of
      Elba, and she proceeded to Fréjus to embark with him. At Fréjus the
      Emperor rejoined Colonel Campbell, who had quitted the convoy on the road,
      and had brought into the port the English frigate the 'Undaunted' which
      was appointed to convey the Emperor to the place of his destination. In
      spite of the wish he had expressed to Colonel Campbell he manifested
      considerable reluctance to go on board. However, on the 28th of April he
      sailed for the island of Elba in the English frigate, in which it could
      not then be said that Caesar and his fortune were embarked.
    
Princess Pauline was at M. Charles's country house, a member of the Legislative Body, near the castle of Luc. After hearing about her brother's troubles, she decided to join him on his trip to the island of Elba and went to Fréjus to board the ship with him. At Fréjus, the Emperor reunited with Colonel Campbell, who had left the convoy earlier and brought the English frigate 'Undaunted' to the port to take the Emperor to his destination. Despite expressing a desire to Colonel Campbell, he showed significant hesitation to board the ship. Nevertheless, on April 28th, he set sail for the island of Elba in the English frigate, which could not yet be said to have Caesar and his fortune together.






   [It was on the 3d of May 1814 that Bonaparte arrived within sight of
   Porto-Ferrajo, the capital of his miniature empire; but he did not
   land till the next morning. At first he paid a short visit
   incognito, being accompanied by a sergeant's party of marines from
   the Undaunted. He then returned on board to breakfast, and at about
   two o'clock made his public entrance, the 'Undaunted' firing a royal
   salute.]

   [It was on May 3, 1814, that Bonaparte arrived in view of Porto-Ferrajo, the capital of his small empire; however, he did not land until the next morning. Initially, he made a brief visit in disguise, accompanied by a group of marines from the Undaunted. He then went back on board for breakfast, and around two o'clock, he made his official entrance, with the Undaunted firing a royal salute.]







      In every particular of his conduct he paid great attention to the
      maintenance of his Imperial dignity. On landing he received the keys of
      his city of Porto-Ferrajo, and the devoirs of the Governor, prefect, and
      other dignitaries, and he proceeded immediately under a canopy of State to
      the parish church, which served as a cathedral. There he heard Te Deum,
      and it is stated that his countenance was dark and melancholy, and that he
      even shed tears.
    
In every aspect of his behavior, he focused on maintaining his Imperial dignity. Upon arriving, he was presented with the keys to his city of Porto-Ferrajo, along with the formal greetings from the Governor, prefect, and other officials. He then went directly under a grand canopy to the parish church, which functioned as a cathedral. There, he attended the Te Deum service, and it's noted that his expression was somber and sad, and that he even cried.







      One of Bonaparte's first cares was to select a flag for the Elbese Empire,
      and after some hesitation he fixed on "Argent, on a bend gules, or three
      bees," as the armorial ensign of his new dominion. It is strange that
      neither he nor any of those whom he consulted should have been aware that
      Elba had an ancient and peculiar ensign, and it is still more remarkable
      that this ensign should be one singularly adapted to Bonaparte's
      situation; being no more than "a wheel,—the emblem," says M.
      Bernaud, "of the vicissitudes of human life, which the Elbese had borrowed
      from the Egyptian mysteries." This is as curious a coincidence as any we
      ever recollect to have met; as the medals of Elba with the emblem of the
      wheel are well known, we cannot but suppose that Bonaparte was aware of
      the circumstance; yet he is represented as having in vain made several
      anxious inquiries after the ancient arms of the island.
    
One of Bonaparte's first priorities was to choose a flag for the Elbese Empire, and after some hesitation, he decided on "Silver, on a red diagonal stripe, with three bees," as the official emblem of his new territory. It's surprising that neither he nor any of his advisors realized Elba had an old and unique flag, and even more remarkable that this flag was particularly suited to Bonaparte's situation; it was simply "a wheel—the symbol," as M. Bernaud puts it, "of the ups and downs of human life, which the people of Elba had borrowed from Egyptian mysteries." This is as curious a coincidence as any we can remember; since the medals of Elba featuring the wheel emblem are well known, we can't help but think that Bonaparte knew about it; yet, he is said to have made several anxious attempts to inquire about the island's ancient arms in vain.







      During the first months of his residence there his life was, in general,
      one of characteristic activity and almost garrulous frankness. He gave
      dinners, went to balls, rode all day about his island, planned
      fortifications, aqueducts, lazarettos, harbours, and palaces; and the very
      second day after he landed fitted out an expedition of a dozen soldiers to
      take possession of a little uninhabited island called Pianosa, which lies
      a few leagues from Elba; on this occasion he said good-humouredly, "Toute
      l'Europe dira que j'ai deja fait une conqute" (All Europe will say I have
      already made a conquest). The cause of the island of Pianosa being left
      uninhabited was the marauding of the Corsairs from the coast of Barbary,
      against whom Bonaparte considered himself fully protected by the 4th
      Article of the Treaty of Fontainebleau.
    
During the first few months of living there, his life was generally filled with typical energy and almost chatty openness. He hosted dinners, attended balls, rode around his island all day, and planned fortifications, aqueducts, hospitals, harbors, and palaces. Just two days after he arrived, he organized a mission of a dozen soldiers to claim a small uninhabited island called Pianosa, located a few leagues from Elba. On this occasion, he humorously remarked, "All Europe will say I have already made a conquest." The reason Pianosa remained uninhabited was due to the plundering by corsairs from the Barbary coast, against whom Bonaparte felt completely protected by the 4th Article of the Treaty of Fontainebleau.







      The greatest wealth of Elba consists in its iron mines, for which the
      island was celebrated in the days of Virgil. Soon after his arrival
      Napoleon visited the mines in company with Colonel Campbell, and being
      informed that they produced annually about 500,000 francs he exclaimed
      joyfully, "These, then, are my own!" One of his followers, however,
      reminded him that he had long since disposed of that revenue, having given
      it to his order of the Legion of Honour, to furnish pensions, etc. "Where
      was my head when I made that grant?" said he, "but I have made many
      foolish decrees of that sort!"
    
The biggest asset of Elba is its iron mines, which the island was famous for back in Virgil's time. Shortly after he arrived, Napoleon visited the mines with Colonel Campbell and, upon learning they produced about 500,000 francs a year, he joyfully exclaimed, "So these are mine!" However, one of his followers reminded him that he had already given that revenue away, allocating it to his Legion of Honour to provide pensions and such. "What was I thinking when I made that grant?" he said, "I’ve made many foolish decisions like that!"







      Sir Walter Scott, in telling a curious fact, makes a very curious mistake.
      "To dignify his capital," he says, "having discovered that the ancient
      name of Porto-Ferrajo was Comopoli (the city of Como), he commanded it to
      be called Cosmopoli, or the city of all nations." Now the old name of
      Porto-Ferrajo was in reality not Comopoli, but Cosmopoli, and it obtained
      that name from the Florentine Cosmo de' Medici, to whose ducal house Elba
      belonged, as an integral part of Tuscany. The name equally signified the
      city of Cosmo, or the city of all nations, and the vanity of the Medici
      had probably been flattered by the double meaning of the appellation. But
      Bonaparte certainly revived the old name, and did not add a letter to it
      to dignify his little capital.
    
Sir Walter Scott, while sharing an interesting fact, makes a notable mistake. "To elevate his capital," he writes, "having learned that the old name of Porto-Ferrajo was Comopoli (the city of Como), he ordered it to be called Cosmopoli, or the city of all nations." However, the true original name of Porto-Ferrajo was actually Cosmopoli, which got its name from the Florentine Cosmo de' Medici, to whose ducal family Elba was an important part of Tuscany. The name meant both the city of Cosmo and the city of all nations, and the Medici's pride was likely flattered by this dual meaning. But Bonaparte certainly revived the old name and did not add a letter to it to elevate his small capital.







      The household of Napoleon, though reduced to thirty-five persons, still
      represented an Imperial Court. The forms and etiquette of the Tuileries
      and St, Cloud were retained on a diminished scale, but the furniture and
      internal accommodations of the palace are represented as having been
      meaner by far than those of an English gentleman of ordinary rank. The
      Bodyguard of his Imperial Majesty the Emperor of Elba consisted of about
      700 infantry and 80 cavalry, and to this handful of troops Napoleon seemed
      to pay almost as much attention as he had formerly given to his Grande
      Armee. The men were constantly exercised, particularly in throwing shot
      and shells, and he soon began to look out for good recruits.
    
The household of Napoleon, although reduced to thirty-five people, still functioned as an Imperial Court. The traditions and etiquette of the Tuileries and St. Cloud were upheld on a smaller scale, but the palace's furnishings and living conditions were far less lavish than those of a typical English gentleman. The Bodyguard of his Imperial Majesty, the Emperor of Elba, included about 700 infantry and 80 cavalry, and Napoleon seemed to give this small group of troops almost as much attention as he had previously shown to his Grande Armée. The men were regularly trained, especially in throwing shots and shells, and he soon began to search for quality recruits.







      He early announced that he would hold a Court and receive ladies twice a
      week; the first was on the 7th of May, and a great concourse assembled.
      Bonaparte at first paid great attention to the women, particularly those
      who possessed personal attractions, and asked them, in his rapid way,
      whether they were married? how many children they had, and who their
      husbands were? To the last question he received one universal answer; it
      happened that every lady was married to a merchant, but when it came to be
      further explained that they were merchant butchers and merchant bakers,
      his Imperial Majesty permitted some expression of his dissatisfaction to
      escape him and hastily retired. On the 4th of June there was a ball on
      board the British frigate, in honour of the King's birthday; the whole
      beauty and fashion of Elba were assembled, and dancing with great glee,
      when, about midnight, Bonaparte came in his barge, unexpectedly, and
      masked, to join the festivity. He was very affable, and visited every part
      of the ship, and all the amusements which had been prepared for the
      different classes of persons. On his birthday, the 15th of August, he
      ordered the mayor to give a ball, and for this purpose a temporary
      building, capable of holding 300 persons, was to be erected, and the whole
      entertainment, building and all, were to be at the expense of the
      inhabitants themselves. These were bad auspices, and accordingly the ball
      completely failed. Madame Mtire, Madame Bertrand, and the two ladies of
      honour, attended, but not above thirty of the fair islanders, and as the
      author of the Itineraire remarks, "Le bal fut triste quoique Bonaparte n'y
      parut pas."
    
He announced early on that he would hold a court and receive ladies twice a week; the first one was on May 7th, and a large crowd gathered. Bonaparte initially paid a lot of attention to the women, especially those who were attractive, and asked them, in his quick manner, whether they were married, how many children they had, and who their husbands were. To the last question, he received a universal answer; every lady was married to a merchant. However, when it was further explained that they were merchant butchers and merchant bakers, his Imperial Majesty showed some signs of dissatisfaction and quickly left. On June 4th, there was a ball on board the British frigate in honor of the King’s birthday; all the beauty and fashion of Elba gathered and danced joyfully when, around midnight, Bonaparte unexpectedly arrived in his barge, wearing a mask, to join the festivities. He was very friendly and visited every part of the ship and all the activities prepared for the different groups of people. On his birthday, August 15th, he instructed the mayor to arrange a ball, and for this, a temporary building that could hold 300 people was to be constructed at the expense of the locals. These were bad signs, and as a result, the ball was a complete failure. Madame Mtire, Madame Bertrand, and the two ladies of honor attended, but only about thirty of the local ladies showed up, and as the author of the Itineraire notes, "The ball was sad although Bonaparte was present."







      Having in an excursion reached the summit of one of the highest hills on
      the island, where the sea was visible all round him, he shook his head
      with affected solemnity, and exclaimed in a bantering tone, "Eh! il faut
      avouer que mon ile est bien petite."
    
Having gone on a trip to the top of one of the highest hills on the island, where he could see the sea all around him, he shook his head with a mock-serious expression and said in a teasing tone, "Well! I must admit, my island is quite small."







      On this mountain one of the party saw a little church in an almost
      inaccessible situation, and observed that it was a most inconvenient site
      for a church, for surely no congregation could attend it. "It is on that
      account the more convenient to the parson," replied Bonaparte, "who may
      preach what stuff he pleases without fear of contradiction."
    
On this mountain, one of the group spotted a small church in a barely reachable location and noted that it was a really impractical spot for a church, since no congregation could possibly attend it. "That's exactly why it's more convenient for the pastor," Bonaparte replied, "who can preach whatever nonsense he likes without any fear of being challenged."







      As they descended the hill and met some peasants with their goats who
      asked for charity, Bonaparte told a story which the present circumstances
      brought to his recollection, that when he was crossing the Great St.
      Bernard, previously to the battle of Marengo, he had met a goatherd, and
      entered into conversation with him. The goatherd, not knowing to whom he
      was speaking, lamented his own hard lot, and envied the riches of some
      persons who actually had cows and cornfields. Bonaparte inquired if some
      fairy were to offer to gratify all his wishes what he would ask? The poor
      peasant expressed, in his own opinion, some very extravagant desires, such
      as a dozen of cows and a good farmhouse. Bonaparte afterwards recollected
      the incident, and astonished the goatherd by the fulfilment of all his
      wishes.
    
As they went down the hill and came across some farmers with their goats who asked for help, Bonaparte remembered a story related to the moment. He recalled that when he was crossing the Great St. Bernard before the battle of Marengo, he had met a goatherd and started talking to him. The goatherd, not realizing he was speaking to Bonaparte, complained about his tough life and envied the wealth of those who owned cows and fields of grain. Bonaparte asked him what he would wish for if a fairy could grant him anything he wanted. The poor farmer shared what he thought were some pretty unrealistic wishes, like having a dozen cows and a nice farmhouse. Later, Bonaparte remembered the encounter and amazed the goatherd by making all his wishes come true.







      But all his thoughts and conversations were not as light and pleasant as
      these. Sometimes he would involve himself in an account of the last
      campaign, of his own views and hopes, of the defection of his marshals, of
      the capture of Paris, and finally of his abdication; on these he would
      talk by the hour with great earnestness and almost fury, exhibiting in
      very rapid succession traits of eloquence, of military genius, of
      indignation; of vanity, and of selfishness. With regard to the audience to
      whom he addressed these tirades he was not very particular.
    
But not all his thoughts and conversations were as light and enjoyable as those. Sometimes he would dive into a discussion about the last campaign, sharing his own opinions and hopes, the betrayal of his marshals, the capture of Paris, and ultimately his abdication; during these talks, he could go on for hours with intense passion and almost rage, showcasing a rapid mix of eloquence, military brilliance, indignation, vanity, and selfishness. He wasn't very selective about the audience he addressed with these rants.







      The chief violence of his rage seemed to be directed against Marshal
      Marmont whom, as well as Augereau, he sometimes called by names too gross
      for repetition, and charged roundly with treachery. Marmont, when he could
      no longer defend Paris by arms, saved it by an honourable capitulation; he
      preserved his army for the service of his country and when everything else
      was lost stipulated for the safety of Bonaparte. This last stipulation,
      however, Bonaparte affected to treat with contempt and indignation.—[Editor
      of 1836 edition.]
    
The main target of his rage seemed to be Marshal Marmont, whom he often referred to with insulting names that are too vulgar to repeat, and accused of betrayal. When Marmont could no longer protect Paris through fighting, he saved it through an honorable surrender; he preserved his army for the sake of his country and, when all seemed lost, negotiated for Bonaparte’s safety. However, Bonaparte pretended to dismiss this last negotiation with scorn and outrage.—[Editor of 1836 edition.]








 


 




















      CHAPTER III.
    



      1814.
    
1814.


   Changes produced by time—Correspondence between the Provisional
   Government and Hartwell—Louis XVIII's reception in London—
   His arrival at Calais—Berthier's address to the King at Compiegne—
   My presentation to his Majesty at St. Ouen-Louis—XVIII's entry into
   Paris—Unexpected dismissal from my post—M. de Talleyrand's
   departure for the Congress of Vienna—Signs of a commotion—
   Impossibility of seeing M. de Blacas—The Abby Fleuriel—Unanswered
   letters—My letter to M. de Talleyrand at Vienna.

   Changes brought about by time—Correspondence between the Provisional Government and Hartwell—Louis XVIII's reception in London—His arrival at Calais—Berthier's speech to the King at Compiegne—My introduction to His Majesty at St. Ouen—Louis XVIII's entry into Paris—Unexpected removal from my position—M. de Talleyrand's departure for the Congress of Vienna—Signs of unrest—Inability to meet with M. de Blacas—The Abbey Fleuriel—Unanswered letters—My letter to M. de Talleyrand in Vienna.







      No power is so great as that resulting from the changes produced by time.
      Wise policy consists in directing that power, but to do so it is requisite
      to know the wants of the age. For this reason Louis XVIII. appeared, in
      the eyes of all sensible persons, a monarch expressly formed for the
      circumstances in which we stood after the fall of Napoleon.
    
No power is greater than the changes brought about by time. A smart strategy is to guide that power, but to do this, it’s essential to understand the needs of the present. For this reason, Louis XVIII was seen by all reasonable people as a king specifically suited for the situation we faced after Napoleon's downfall.







      In the winter of 1813-14 some Royalist proclamations had been circulated
      in Paris, and as they contained the germs of those hopes which the
      Charter, had it been executed, was calculated to realise, the police
      opposed their circulation, and I recollect that, in order to multiply the
      number of copies, my family and I daily devoted some hours to transcribing
      them. After the definitive declaration of Alexander a very active
      correspondence ensued between the Provisional Government and Hartwell, and
      Louis XVIII. was even preparing to embark for Bordeaux when he learned the
      events of the 31st of March. That news induced the King to alter his
      determination, and he soon quitted his retirement to proceed to London.
      Louis XVIII. and the Prince Regent of England exchanged the orders of the
      Holy Ghost and the Garter, and I believe I may affirm that this was the
      first occasion on which any but a Catholic Prince was invested with the
      order of the Holy Ghost.
    
In the winter of 1813-14, some Royalist proclamations were spread around Paris, and since they contained the seeds of the hopes that the Charter would have fulfilled if it had been carried out, the police opposed their distribution. I remember that to increase the number of copies, my family and I spent several hours each day copying them by hand. After Alexander's final declaration, there was very active communication between the Provisional Government and Hartwell, and Louis XVIII was even getting ready to sail for Bordeaux when he heard about the events of March 31st. This news made the King change his plans, and he soon left his retreat to head to London. Louis XVIII and the Prince Regent of England exchanged the orders of the Holy Ghost and the Garter, and I believe I can say this was the first time any prince who wasn’t Catholic was awarded the order of the Holy Ghost.







      Louis XVIII. embarked at Dover on board the Royal Sovereign, and landed at
      Calais on the 24th of April. I need not enter into any description of the
      enthusiasm which his presence excited; that is generally known through the
      reports of the journals of the time. It is very certain that all rational
      persons saw with satisfaction the Princes of the House of Bourbon reascend
      the throne of their ancestors, enlightened by experience and misfortune,
      which, as some ancient philosopher observes, are the best counsellors of
      kings.
    
Louis XVIII. boarded the Royal Sovereign at Dover and landed in Calais on April 24th. I don't need to describe the excitement his arrival caused; that's well documented in the newspapers from that time. It’s clear that all sensible people were pleased to see the Princes of the House of Bourbon return to the throne of their ancestors, now wiser from their experiences and hardships, which, as some ancient philosopher noted, are the best advisers for kings.







      I had received a letter addressed to me from London by the Duc de Duras,
      pointing out the route which Louis XVIII. was to pursue from Calais to
      Paris: In this he said, "After the zeal, monsieur, you have shown for the
      service of the King, I do not doubt your activity to prevent his suffering
      in any way at a moment so happy and interesting for every Frenchman." The
      King's wishes on this subject were scrupulously fulfilled, and I recollect
      with pleasure the zeal with which my directions were executed by all the
      persons in the service of the Postoffice. His Majesty stopped for a short
      time at Amiens, and then proceeded to Compiegne, where the Ministers and
      Marshals had previously arrived to present to him their homage and the
      assurance of their fidelity. Berthier addressed the King in the name of
      the Marshals, and said, among other things, "that France, groaning for
      five and twenty years under the weight of the misfortunes that oppressed
      her, had anxiously looked forward to the happy day which she now saw
      dawning." Berthier might justly have said for "ten years"; but at all
      events, even had he spoken the truth, it was ill placed in the mouth of a
      man whom the Emperor had constantly loaded with favours: The Emperor
      Alexander also went to Compiegne to meet Louis XVIII., and the two
      monarchs dined together.
    
I received a letter addressed to me from London by the Duc de Duras, outlining the route Louis XVIII would take from Calais to Paris. In this, he said, "After the dedication you've shown for the King’s service, I have no doubt about your efforts to ensure he doesn’t suffer in any way during such a happy and significant moment for every Frenchman." The King’s wishes on this were carefully followed, and I fondly remember the enthusiasm with which everyone at the Post Office carried out my instructions. His Majesty made a brief stop in Amiens and then continued to Compiegne, where the Ministers and Marshals had already gathered to pay their respects and assure him of their loyalty. Berthier spoke to the King on behalf of the Marshals and mentioned, among other things, "that France, suffering for twenty-five years under the burden of her misfortunes, had eagerly awaited the joyful day that she now saw arriving." Berthier could have accurately claimed "ten years"; however, even if he had spoken the truth, it was poorly placed coming from someone the Emperor had constantly favored. Emperor Alexander also went to Compiegne to meet Louis XVIII, and the two monarchs had dinner together.







      I did not go to Compiegne because the business which I had constantly to
      execute did not permit me to leave Paris for so long an interval as that
      journey would have required, but I was at St. Ouen when Louis XVIII.
      arrived on the 2d of May. There I had to congratulate myself on being
      remembered by a man to whom I was fortunate enough to render some service
      at Hamburg. As the King entered the salon through which he had to pass to
      go to the dining-room M. Hue recognising me said to his Majesty, "There is
      M. de Bourrienne." The King then stepping up to me said, "Ah! M. de
      Bourrienne, I am very glad to see you. I am aware of the services you have
      rendered me in Hamburg and Paris, and I shall feel much pleasure in
      testifying my gratitude."
    
I didn't go to Compiegne because the work I needed to take care of didn't allow me to be away from Paris for as long as that trip would have taken. However, I was in St. Ouen when Louis XVIII arrived on May 2nd. At that moment, I felt grateful to be remembered by someone I had the chance to help in Hamburg. As the King walked through the salon on his way to the dining room, M. Hue recognized me and said to His Majesty, "There is M. de Bourrienne." The King then approached me and said, "Ah! M. de Bourrienne, it's great to see you. I know about the help you've given me in Hamburg and Paris, and I look forward to showing my gratitude."







      At St. Ouen Louis XVIII. promulgated the declaration which preceded the
      Charter, and which repeated the sentiments expressed by the King twenty
      years before, in the Declaration of Colmar. It was also at St, Ouen that
      project of a Constitution was presented to him by the Senate in which that
      body, to justify 'in extremis' its title of conservative, stipulated for
      the preservation of its revenues and endowments.
    
At St. Ouen, Louis XVIII issued the declaration that came before the Charter, echoing the sentiments the King shared twenty years earlier in the Declaration of Colmar. It was also at St. Ouen that the Senate presented him with a draft of a Constitution, which included provisions to protect its revenues and assets, attempting to validate its conservative title in urgent circumstances.







      On the 3d of May Louis XVIII. made his solemn entrance into Paris, the
      Duchess d'Angouleme being in the carriage with the King. His Majesty
      proceeded first to Notre Dame. On arriving at the Pont Neuf he saw the
      model of the statue of Henri IV. replaced, on the pedestal of which
      appeared the following words: 'Ludovico reduce, Henricus redivivus', which
      were suggested by M. de Lally-Tollendal, and were greatly preferable to
      the long and prolix inscription composed for the bronze statue.
    
On May 3rd, Louis XVIII made his grand entrance into Paris, with the Duchess d'Angoulême in the carriage alongside the King. His Majesty first went to Notre Dame. When he arrived at the Pont Neuf, he saw the model of the statue of Henri IV restored, with the following words on the pedestal: 'Ludovico reduce, Henricus redivivus,' suggested by M. de Lally-Tollendal, which were much better than the lengthy and detailed inscription created for the bronze statue.







      The King's entrance into Paris did not excite so much enthusiasm as the
      entrance of Monsieur. In the places through which I passed on the 3d of
      May astonishment seemed to be the prevailing feeling among the people. The
      abatement of public enthusiasm was more perceptible a short time after,
      when Louis XVIII. restored "the red corps" which Louis XVI. had suppressed
      long before the Revolution.
    
The King’s arrival in Paris didn’t generate as much excitement as Monsieur’s did. As I walked through the streets on May 3rd, it was clear that people were mostly astonished. A noticeable decline in public excitement became evident shortly afterward when Louis XVIII reinstated “the red corps” that Louis XVI had abolished long before the Revolution.







      It was not a little extraordinary to see the direction of the Government
      consigned to a man who neither had nor could have any knowledge of France.
      From the commencement M. de Blacas affected ministerial omnipotence. When
      I went on the 11th of May to the Tuileries to present, as usual, my
      portfolio to the King, in virtue of my privilege of transacting business
      with the sovereign, M. de Blacas wished to take the portfolio from me,
      which appeared to me the more surprising as, during the seven days I had
      the honour of coming in contact with Louis XVIII., his Majesty had been
      pleased to bestow many compliments upon me. I at first refused to give up
      the portfolio, but M. de Blacas told me the King had ordered him to
      receive it; I then, of course, yielded the point.
    
It was quite unusual to see the Government handed over to a man who had no knowledge of France at all. Right from the start, M. de Blacas acted like he had all the power of a minister. When I went to the Tuileries on May 11th to present my portfolio to the King, as was my usual privilege of conducting business with the sovereign, M. de Blacas wanted to take it from me. This surprised me even more since, during the seven days I had the honor of being in contact with Louis XVIII., his Majesty had given me many compliments. I initially refused to hand over the portfolio, but M. de Blacas insisted that the King had ordered him to take it. So, I eventually gave in.







      However, it, was not long before I had experience of a courtier's revenge,
      for two days after this circumstance, that is to say, on the 13th of May,
      on entering my cabinet at the usual hour, I mechanically took up the
      'Moniteur', which I found lying on my desk. On glancing hastily over it
      what was my astonishment to find that the Comte Ferrand had been appointed
      Director of the Post-office in my stead. Such was the strange mode in
      which M. de Blacas made me feel the promised gratitude of the sovereign.
      Certainly, after my proofs of loyalty, which a year afterwards procured
      for me the honour of being outlawed in quite a special way, I had reason
      to complain, and I might have said 'Sic vos non vobis' as justly as Virgil
      when he alluded to the unmerited favours lavished by Augustus on the
      Maevii and Bavii of his time.
    
However, it wasn't long before I experienced the revenge of a courtier. Just two days after this incident, on May 13th, I entered my office at the usual time and automatically picked up the 'Moniteur' that I found on my desk. As I quickly scanned through it, I was astonished to discover that Comte Ferrand had been appointed Director of the Post-office in my place. This was the strange way M. de Blacas made me feel the gratitude promised by the sovereign. Given my loyalty, which a year later led to me being outlawed in a particularly special way, I had every right to complain, and I could have just as rightly said 'Sic vos non vobis' like Virgil when he referred to the unearned favours given by Augustus to the Maevii and Bavii of his time.







      The measures of Government soon excited complaints in every quarter. The
      usages of the old system were gradually restored, and ridicule being
      mingled with more serious considerations, Paris was speedily inundated
      with caricatures and pamphlets. However, tranquillity prevailed until the
      month of September, when M. de Talleyrand departed for the Congress of
      Vienna. Then all was disorder at the Tuileries. Every one feeling himself
      free from restraint, wished to play the statesman, and Heaven knows how
      many follies were committed in the absence of the schoolmaster.
    
The government's actions quickly stirred complaints from all sides. The practices of the old system were slowly brought back, and with a mix of mockery and serious issues, Paris was soon flooded with cartoons and pamphlets. However, peace lasted until September, when M. de Talleyrand left for the Congress of Vienna. Then chaos erupted at the Tuileries. With everyone feeling unrestrained, many tried their hand at being a statesman, and it's impossible to say how many mistakes were made in the absence of leadership.







      Under a feeble Government there is but one step from discontent to
      insurrection, under an imbecile Government like that of France in 1814,
      after the departure of M. de Talleyrand, conspiracy has free Scope. During
      the summer of 1814 were initiated the events which reached their climax on
      the 20th of March 1815. I almost fancy I am dreaming when I look back on
      the miraculous incapacity of the persons who were then at the head of our
      Government. The emigrants, who, as it has been truly said, had neither
      learned nor forgotten anything, came back with all the absurd pretensions
      of Coblentz. Their silly vanity reminded one of a character in one of
      Voltaire's novels who is continually saying, "Un homme comme moi!" These
      people were so engrossed with their pretended merit that they were blind
      to everything else. They not only disregarded the wishes and the wants of
      France; which in overthrowing the Empire hoped to regain liberty, but they
      disregarded every warning they had received.
    
Under a weak government, it's just one step from discontent to rebellion, and under a foolish government like France's in 1814, after M. de Talleyrand left, conspiracies ran rampant. In the summer of 1814, events began that reached their peak on March 20, 1815. It almost feels like a dream when I think back to the sheer incompetence of those in charge of our government at that time. The émigrés, who, as has been rightly said, hadn't learned or forgotten anything, returned with all the ridiculous demands of Coblentz. Their foolish arrogance was reminiscent of a character in one of Voltaire's novels who keeps saying, "A man like me!" These individuals were so consumed by their supposed worth that they were oblivious to everything else. They not only ignored the wishes and needs of France, which, in toppling the Empire, sought to regain freedom, but they also disregarded every warning they received.







      I recollect one circumstance which was well calculated to excite
      suspicion. Prince Eugène proposed going to the waters of Plombieres to
      join his sister Hortense. The horses, the carriages, and one of the
      Prince's aides de camp had already arrived at Plombieres, and his
      residence was prepared; but he did not go. Eugène had, no doubt, received
      intimation of his sister's intrigues with some of the individuals of the
      late Court of Napoleon who were then at the waters, and as he had
      determined to reside quietly at the Court of his father-in-law; without
      meddling with public affairs, he remained at Munich. This fact, however,
      passed off unnoticed.
    
I remember one situation that really raised suspicion. Prince Eugène suggested going to the springs at Plombieres to meet his sister Hortense. The horses, carriages, and one of the Prince's aides had already arrived at Plombieres, and his accommodations were ready, but he never went. Eugène had probably gotten wind of his sister's schemes with some members of the former Napoleon Court who were also at the springs, and since he had decided to keep a low profile at his father-in-law's Court and avoid getting involved in politics, he stayed in Munich. However, this fact went by without anyone noticing.







      At the end of 1814 unequivocal indications of a great catastrophe were
      observable. About that time a man, whom I much esteem, and with whom I
      have always been on terms of friendship, said to me, "You see how things
      are going on: they are committing fault upon fault. You must be convinced
      that such a state of things cannot last long. Between ourselves, I am of
      opinion that all will be over in the month of March; that month will
      repair the disgrace of last March. We shall then, once for all, be
      delivered from fanaticism and the emigrants. You see the intolerable
      spirit of hypocrisy that prevails, and you know that the influence of the
      priests is, of all things, the most hateful to the nation. We have gone
      back a long way within the last eight months. I fear you will repent of
      having taken too active a part in affairs at the commencement of the
      present year. You see we have gone a very different way from what you
      expected. However, as I have often told you before, you had good reason to
      complain; and after all, you acted to the best of your judgment."
    
At the end of 1814, clear signs of a major disaster were evident. Around that time, a man I respect greatly and have always considered a friend said to me, "You see how things are going: they're making one mistake after another. You have to realize that this can’t go on for much longer. Between us, I think everything will be over by March; that month will redeem the shame of last March. Then, once and for all, we’ll be free from fanaticism and the exiles. You see the unbearable hypocrisy that’s rampant, and you know that the influence of the clergy is, above all, the most detestable thing to the nation. We’ve regressed significantly over the past eight months. I worry you’ll regret being so actively involved in events at the start of this year. As you can see, we’ve taken a very different path than you anticipated. Still, as I’ve told you before, you had every right to be frustrated; after all, you acted based on your best judgment."







      I did not attach much importance to this prediction of a change in the
      month of March. I deplored, as every one did, the inconceivable errors of
      "Ferrand and Company," and I hoped that the Government would gradually
      return to those principles which were calculated to conciliate the
      feelings of the people. A few days after another of my friends called on
      me. He had exercised important functions, and his name had appeared on a
      proscription list. He had claims upon the Government, which was by no
      means favourably disposed towards him. I asked him how things were going
      on, and he replied, "Very well; no opposition is made to my demands. I
      have no reason to complain." This reminded me of the man in the 'Lettres
      Persanes', who admired the excellent order of the finances under Colbert
      because his pension was promptly paid. I congratulated my friend on the
      justice which the Government rendered him, as well as on the justice which
      he rendered to the Government, and I remarked that if the same course were
      adopted towards every one all parties would speedily be conciliated. "I do
      not think so," said my friend. "If the Government persist in its present
      course it cannot possibly stand, and we shall have the Emperor back
      again."—"That," said I, "would be a very great misfortune; and even
      if such were the wish of France, it would be opposed by Europe. You who
      are so devotedly attached to France cannot be indifferent to the danger
      that would threaten her if the presence of Bonaparte should bring the
      foreigners back again. Can you endure to think of the dismemberment of our
      country?"—"That they would never dare to attempt. But you and I can
      never agree on the question of the Emperor and your Bourbons. We take a
      totally different view of the matter. You had cause to complain of
      Bonaparte, but I had only reason to be satisfied with him. But tell me,
      what would you do if he were to return?"— "Bonaparte return!"—"Yes."—"Upon
      my word, the best thing I could do would be to set off as speedily as I
      could, and that is certainly what I should do. I am thoroughly convinced
      that he would never pardon me for the part I have taken in the
      Restoration, and I candidly confess that I should not hesitate a moment to
      save my life by leaving France."—"Well, you are wrong, for I am
      convinced that if you would range yourself among the number of his friends
      you might have whatever you wished—titles, honours, riches. Of this
      I could give you assurance."—"All this, I must tell you, does not
      tempt me. I love France as dearly, as you do, and I am convinced that she
      can never be happy under Bonaparte. If he should return I will go and live
      abroad."
    
I didn't think much of this prediction about a change in March. Like everyone else, I was frustrated by the unbelievable mistakes of "Ferrand and Company," and I hoped the Government would gradually return to principles that would bring the people's feelings back in line. A few days later, another friend visited me. He had held important positions, and his name was on a proscription list. He had claims against the Government, which wasn’t exactly friendly toward him. I asked how things were going, and he replied, "Very well; there’s no opposition to my demands. I have no reason to complain." This reminded me of the guy in the 'Lettres Persanes' who admired the great state of the finances under Colbert because his pension was paid on time. I congratulated my friend on the fairness the Government showed him, as well as the fairness he showed to the Government, and I noted that if everyone were treated the same way, all sides would soon be reconciled. "I don't think so," said my friend. "If the Government keeps going this way, it won't last, and we'll see the Emperor back again."—"That," I said, "would be a huge disaster; and even if that’s what France wanted, Europe would oppose it. You, who are so devoted to France, can’t ignore the danger that would come if Bonaparte’s presence brought foreign powers back. Can you bear to think about our country being torn apart?"—"They would never dare try that. But you and I will never agree on the Emperor or your Bourbons. We see it completely differently. You had reason to be upset with Bonaparte, but I had every reason to be pleased with him. But tell me, what would you do if he came back?"— "Bonaparte come back!"—"Yes."—"Honestly, the best thing I could do would be to leave as quickly as possible, and that’s exactly what I would do. I’m completely convinced he would never forgive me for my role in the Restoration, and I openly admit I wouldn’t hesitate to save my life by leaving France."—"Well, you’re mistaken, because I’m sure that if you aligned yourself with his supporters, you could have whatever you wanted—titles, honors, wealth. I could assure you of that."—"I have to tell you, none of that tempts me. I love France just as much as you do, and I believe she can never be happy under Bonaparte. If he returns, I’ll go live abroad."







      This is only part of a conversation which lasted a considerable time, and,
      as is often the case after a long discussion, my friend retained his
      opinion, and I mine. However, this second warning, this hypothesis of the
      return of Bonaparte, made me reflect, and I soon received another hint
      which gave additional weight to the preceding ones. An individual with
      whom I was well acquainted, and whom I knew from his principles and
      connections to be entirely devoted to the royal cause, communicated to me
      some extraordinary circumstances which he said alarmed him. Among other
      things he said, "The day before yesterday I met Charles de Labedoyere,
      who, you know, is my intimate friend. I remarked that he had an air of
      agitation and abstraction. I invited him to come and dine with me, but he
      declined, alleging as an excuse that we should not be alone. He then asked
      me to go and dine with him yesterday, as he wanted to talk with me. I
      accepted his invitation, and we conversed a long time on political
      affair's and the situation of France. You know my sentiments are quite the
      reverse of his, so we disputed and wrangled, though we are still very good
      friends. But what alarms me is, that at parting Charles pressed my hand,
      saying, 'Adieu; to-morrow I set off for Grenoble. In a month you will hear
      something of Charles de Labedoyere.'"
    
This is just part of a conversation that went on for quite a while, and, as often happens after a lengthy discussion, my friend stuck to his opinion, and I held onto mine. However, this second warning, this idea about Bonaparte's return, got me thinking, and I soon got another hint that added more weight to the previous ones. Someone I knew well, who I understood to be fully committed to the royal cause because of his beliefs and connections, shared some surprising circumstances that he said worried him. Among other things, he told me, "The day before yesterday, I ran into Charles de Labedoyere, who, as you know, is a close friend of mine. I noticed he seemed agitated and lost in thought. I invited him to come over for dinner, but he turned it down, saying we wouldn’t be alone. He then asked me to come over for dinner yesterday because he wanted to talk. I accepted his invitation, and we talked for a long time about politics and France's situation. You know my views are completely opposite to his, so we argued and debated, but we’re still very good friends. What worries me is that when we parted, Charles squeezed my hand and said, 'Goodbye; tomorrow I'm heading to Grenoble. In a month, you will hear something about Charles de Labedoyere.'"







      These three successive communications appeared to me very extraordinary.
      The two first were made to me by persons interested in the event, and the
      third by one who dreaded it. They all presented a striking coincidence
      with the intrigues at Plombieres a few months before. In the month of
      January I determined to mention the business to M. de Blacas, who then
      engrossed all credit and all power, and through whose medium alone
      anything could reach the sovereign. I need scarcely add that my intention
      was merely to mention to him the facts without naming the individuals from
      whom I obtained them. After all, however, M. de Blacas did not receive me,
      and I only had the honour of speaking to his secretary, who, if the fact
      deserve to be recorded, was an abbe named Fleuriel. This personage, who
      was an extraordinary specimen of impertinence and self-conceit, would have
      been an admirable study for a comic poet. He had all the dignity belonging
      to the great secretary of a great Minister, and, with an air of
      indifference, he told me that the Count was not there; but M. de Blacas
      was there, and I knew it.
    
These three messages seemed really unusual to me.  
      The first two came from people involved in the situation, and the third was from someone who was worried about it. They all had a striking connection to the plots at Plombières a few months earlier. In January, I decided to bring this matter up with M. de Blacas, who had all the influence and power at the time, and through whom anything could reach the king. I should note that my intention was just to share the facts without revealing who had given them to me. However, M. de Blacas didn’t see me, and instead, I had the honor of speaking to his secretary, a priest named Fleuriel. This guy, who was a remarkable example of rudeness and arrogance, would have been a perfect character for a comedy. He had all the poise of a chief secretary for a high-ranking minister, and with an air of indifference, he told me that the Count wasn’t available; but I knew M. de Blacas was there.







      Devoted as I was to the cause of the Bourbons, I thought it my duty to
      write that very day to M. de Blacas to request an interview; I received no
      answer. Two days after I wrote a second letter, in which I informed M. de
      Blacas that I had something of the greatest importance to communicate to
      him; this letter remained unnoticed like the first. Unable to account for
      this strange treatment I again repaired to the Pavilion de Flore, and
      requested the Abbe Fleuriel to explain to me if he could the cause of his
      master's silence. "Sir," said he, "I received your two letters, and laid
      them before the Count; I cannot tell why he has not sent you an answer;
      but Monsieur le Comte is so much engaged. . . . Monsieur le Comte is so
      overwhelmed with business that"—"Monsieur le Comte may, perhaps,
      repent of it. Good morning, sir!"
    
As dedicated as I was to the Bourbon cause, I felt it was my duty to write that very day to M. de Blacas to ask for a meeting; I got no response. Two days later, I sent a second letter, informing M. de Blacas that I had something extremely important to share with him; this letter went ignored just like the first. Unable to understand this odd treatment, I returned to the Pavilion de Flore and asked Abbe Fleuriel if he could explain why his master was silent. "Sir," he said, "I received your two letters and presented them to the Count; I can't say why he hasn't replied, but Monsieur le Comte is very busy... Monsieur le Comte is so overwhelmed with work that"—"Monsieur le Comte might, perhaps, regret it. Good morning, sir!"







      I thus had personal experience of the truth of what I had often heard
      respecting M. de Blacas. That favourite, who succeeded Comte d'Avaray,
      enjoyed the full confidence of the King, and concentrated the sovereign
      power in his own cabinet. The only means of transmitting any communication
      to Louis XVIII. was to get it addressed to M. de Blacas by one of his most
      intimate friends.
    
I had firsthand experience of the truth of what I had often heard about M. de Blacas. This favorite, who took over from Comte d'Avaray, had the King’s complete trust and held all the power within his own circle. The only way to send any message to Louis XVIII was to have it directed to M. de Blacas by one of his closest friends.







      Convinced as I was of the danger that threatened France, and unable to
      break through the blockade which M. de Blacas had formed round the person
      of the King, I determined to write to M. de Talleyrand at Vienna,' and
      acquaint him with the communications that had been made to me. M. de
      Talleyrand corresponded directly with the King, and I doubt not that my
      information at length reached the ears of his Majesty. But when Louis
      XVIII. was informed of what was to happen it was too late to avert the
      danger.
    
Convinced of the danger threatening France and unable to break through the blockade M. de Blacas had established around the King, I decided to write to M. de Talleyrand in Vienna and inform him of the communications I had received. M. de Talleyrand communicated directly with the King, and I have no doubt that my information eventually reached His Majesty. However, by the time Louis XVIII. was made aware of what was about to happen, it was too late to prevent the danger.








 


 




















      CHAPTER IV.
    



      1814-1815.
    
1814-1815.


   Escape from Elba—His landing near Cannes—March on Paris.

   Escape from Elba—His landing near Cannes—March on Paris.







      About the middle of summer Napoleon was visited by his mother and his
      sister the Princess Pauline. Both these ladies had very considerable
      talents for political intrigue, and then natural faculties in this way had
      not lain dormant or been injured by want of practice. In Pauline this
      finesse was partially concealed by a languor and indecision of manner and
      an occasional assumption of 'niaiserie'; or almost infantine simplicity;
      but this only threw people the more off their guard, and made her finesse
      the more sure in its operation. Pauline was handsome too, uncommonly
      graceful, and had all that power of fascination which has been attributed
      to the Bonaparte family. She could gain hearts with ease, and those whom
      her charms enslaved were generally ready to devote themselves absolutely
      to her brother. She went and came between Naples and Elba, and kept her
      brother-in-law, Murat, in mind of the fact that the lion was not yet dead
      nor so much as sleeping, but merely retiring the better to spring forward
      on his quarry.
    
In the middle of summer, Napoleon was visited by his mother and his sister, Princess Pauline. Both women had significant skills in political maneuvering, and their natural abilities in this area had not gone unused. In Pauline, this skill was partially masked by her laziness and hesitance, along with a tendency to act a bit simple-minded, giving an impression of almost childlike innocence; but this only made people let their guard down, enhancing the effectiveness of her tactics. Pauline was also beautiful, exceptionally graceful, and possessed the charm that is often associated with the Bonaparte family. She could capture hearts effortlessly, and those who fell for her charms were usually eager to fully support her brother. She traveled back and forth between Naples and Elba and reminded her brother-in-law, Murat, that the lion was not dead or even asleep, but simply biding his time to pounce on his prey.







      Having taken this resolution and chosen his time, Napoleon kept the secret
      of his expedition until the last moment; and means were found to privately
      make the requisite preparations. A portion of the soldiers was embarked in
      a brig called the 'Inconstant' and the remainder in six small craft. It
      was not till they were all on board that the troops first conceived a
      suspicion of the Emperor's purpose: 1000 or 1200 men had sailed to regain
      possession of an Empire containing a population of 30,000,000! He
      commenced his voyage on Sunday the 26th of February 1815, and the next
      morning at ten o'clock was not out of sight of the island, to the great
      annoyance of the few friends he had left behind. At this time Colonel Sir
      Neil Campbell was absent on a tour to Leghorn, but being informed by the
      French Consul and by Spanocchi, the Tuscan Governor of the town, that
      Napoleon was about to sail for the Continent, he hastened back, and gave
      chase to the little squadron in the Partridge sloop of war, which was
      cruising in the neighbourhood, but, being delayed by communicating with a
      French frigate, reached Antibes too late.
    
After making this decision and picking the right moment, Napoleon kept his expedition secret until the very end; arrangements were made privately for the necessary preparations. Some soldiers were put on a ship called the 'Inconstant' and the rest on six small boats. It wasn't until they were all on board that the troops began to suspect the Emperor's intentions: 1,000 or 1,200 men had set sail to reclaim an empire with a population of 30 million! He started his journey on Sunday, February 26, 1815, and by ten o'clock the next morning, he was still in sight of the island, much to the frustration of the few friends he had left behind. At that time, Colonel Sir Neil Campbell was away on a trip to Leghorn, but when he learned from the French Consul and Spanocchi, the Tuscan Governor of the town, that Napoleon was about to leave for the continent, he rushed back and pursued the small squadron in the Partridge sloop of war, which was patrolling the area. However, he was delayed by a communication with a French frigate and reached Antibes too late.







      There were between 400 and 500 men on board the brig (the 'Inconstant') in
      which Bonaparte embarked. On the passage they met with a French ship of
      war, with which they spoke. The Guards were ordered to pull off their caps
      and lie down on the deck or go below while the captain exchanged some
      words with the commander of the frigate, whom he afterwards proposed to
      pursue and capture. Bonaparte rejected the idea as absurd, and asked why
      he should introduce this new episode into his plan.
    
There were about 400 to 500 men on board the brig (the 'Inconstant') that Bonaparte boarded. During the journey, they encountered a French warship and had a brief conversation with them. The Guards were instructed to take off their hats and lay down on the deck or go below while the captain chatted with the commander of the frigate, whom he later suggested they should chase and capture. Bonaparte dismissed the idea as ridiculous and asked why he should complicate his plan with this new element.







      As they stood over to the coast of France the Emperor was in the highest
      spirits. The die was cast, and he seemed to be quite himself again. He sat
      upon the deck and amused the officers collected round him with a narrative
      of his campaigns, particularly those of Italy and Egypt. When he had
      finished he observed the deck to be encumbered with several large chests
      belonging to him. He asked the maitre d'hotel what they contained. Upon
      being told they were filled with wine he ordered them to be immediately
      broken open, saying, "We will divide the booty." The Emperor superintended
      the distribution himself, and presented bottle by bottle to his comrades,
      till tired of this occupation he called out to Bertrand, "Grand Marshal,
      assist me, if you please. Let us help these gentlemen. They will help us
      some day." It was with this species of bonhomie that he captivated when he
      chose all around him. The following day he was employed in various
      arrangements, and among others in dictating to Colonel Raoul the
      proclamations to be issued on his landing. In one of these, after
      observing, "we must forget that we have given law to the neighbouring
      nations," Napoleon stopped. "What have I said?" Colonel Raoul read the
      passage. "Stop!" said Napoleon. "Omit the word 'neighbouring;' say simply
      'to nations.'" It was thus his pride revealed itself; and his ambition
      seemed to rekindle at the very recollections of his former greatness.
    
As they stood off the coast of France, the Emperor was in high spirits. The die was cast, and he seemed to be completely himself again. He sat on the deck and entertained the officers around him with stories of his campaigns, especially those in Italy and Egypt. When he was done, he noticed the deck was cluttered with several large chests that belonged to him. He asked the maitre d'hotel what was inside. When told they were filled with wine, he ordered them to be opened immediately, saying, "Let’s share the loot." The Emperor took charge of the distribution himself, handing out bottles to his comrades until he grew tired of the task and called out to Bertrand, "Grand Marshal, please help me. Let’s assist these gentlemen. They will help us someday." It was this kind of friendliness that won over everyone around him. The next day, he was busy with various plans, including dictating proclamations to Colonel Raoul for when he landed. In one of them, after noting, "We must forget that we have imposed laws on neighboring nations," Napoleon paused. "What did I just say?" Colonel Raoul read the line. "Stop!" said Napoleon. "Remove the word 'neighboring;' just say 'to nations.'" This revealed his pride; his ambition seemed to reignite with the memories of his former greatness.







      Napoleon landed without any accident on the 1st of March at Cannes, a
      small seaport in the Gulf of St. Juan, not far from Fréjus, where he had
      disembarked on his return from Egypt sixteen years before, and where he
      had embarked the preceding year for Elba. A small party of the Guards who
      presented themselves before the neighbouring garrison of Antibes were made
      prisoners by General Corsin, the Governor of the place. Some one hinted
      that it was not right to proceed till they had released their comrades,
      but the Emperor observed that this was poorly to estimate the magnitude of
      the undertaking; before them were 30,000,000 men uniting to be set free!
      He, however, sent the Commissariat Officer to try what he could do,
      calling out after him, "Take care you do not get yourself made prisoner
      too!"
    
Napoleon landed safely on March 1st at Cannes, a small port in the Gulf of St. Juan, not far from Fréjus, where he had arrived on his return from Egypt sixteen years ago and where he had set sail for Elba the previous year. A small group of Guards who approached the nearby garrison of Antibes were captured by General Corsin, the Governor there. Someone suggested it was wrong to move forward without rescuing their comrades, but the Emperor remarked that this underestimated the scale of their mission; before them were 30 million people united for freedom! He did send the Commissariat Officer to see what could be done, calling after him, "Be careful not to get captured yourself!"







      At nightfall the troops bivouacked on the beach. Just before a postillion,
      in a splendid livery, had been brought to Napoleon. It turned out that
      this man had formerly been a domestic of the Empress Josephine, and was
      now in the service of the Prince of Monaco, who himself had been equerry
      to the Empress. The postillion, after expressing his great astonishment at
      finding the Emperor there, stated, in answer to the questions that were
      put to him, that he had just come from Paris; that all along the road, as
      far as Avignon, he had heard nothing but regret for the Emperor's absence;
      that his name was constantly echoed from mouth to mouth; and that, when
      once fairly through Provence, he would find the whole population ready to
      rally round him. The man added that his laced livery had frequently
      rendered him the object of odium and insult on the road. This was the
      testimony of one of the common class of society: it was very gratifying to
      the Emperor, as it entirely corresponded with his expectations. The Prince
      of Monaco himself, on being presented to the Emperor, was less explicit.
      Napoleon refrained from questioning him on political matters. The
      conversation therefore assumed a more lively character, and turned
      altogether on the ladies of the former Imperial Court, concerning whom the
      Emperor was very particular in his inquiries.
    
At nightfall, the troops set up camp on the beach. Right before that, a postilion in a fancy uniform was brought to Napoleon. It turned out that this man had once worked for Empress Josephine and was now serving the Prince of Monaco, who had previously been an equerry to the Empress. The postilion, after expressing his surprise at seeing the Emperor there, said in response to the questions he was asked that he had just come from Paris; that all along the road, as far as Avignon, he had heard nothing but sadness over the Emperor's absence; his name was constantly mentioned by everyone; and that as soon as he got through Provence, he would find the entire population ready to support him. The man added that his fancy uniform had often made him a target of resentment and insults along the way. This was the viewpoint of an everyday citizen, and it was very satisfying to the Emperor, as it completely matched his expectations. The Prince of Monaco, when introduced to the Emperor, was less clear. Napoleon chose not to ask him about political issues. Thus, their conversation became more lively and focused entirely on the ladies of the former Imperial Court, which the Emperor inquired about in great detail.







      As soon as the moon had risen, which was about one or two in the morning
      of the 2d, the bivouacs were broken up, and Napoleon gave orders for
      proceeding to Grasse. There he expected to find a road which he had
      planned during the Empire, but in this he was disappointed, the Bourbons
      having given up all such expensive works through want of money. Bonaparte
      was therefore obliged to pass through narrow defiles filled with snow, and
      left behind him in the hands of the municipality his carriage and two
      pieces of cannon, which had been brought ashore. This was termed a capture
      in the bulletins of the day. The municipality of Grasse was strongly in
      favour of the Royalist cause, but the sudden appearance of the Emperor
      afforded but little time for hesitation, and they came to tender their
      submission to him. Having passed through the town he halted on a little
      height some way beyond it, where he breakfasted. He was soon surrounded by
      the whole population of the place; and he heard the same sentiments and
      the same prayers as before he quitted France. A multitude of petitions had
      already been drawn up, and were presented to him, just as though he had
      come from Paris and was making a tour through the departments. One
      complained that his pension had not been paid, another that his cross of
      the Legion of Honour had been taken from him. Some of the more
      discontented secretly informed Napoleon that the authorities of the town
      were very hostile to him, but that the mass of the people were devoted to
      him, and only waited till his back was turned to rid themselves of the
      miscreants. He replied, "Be not too hasty. Let them have the mortification
      of seeing our triumph without having anything to reproach us with." The
      Emperor advanced with all the rapidity in his power. "Victory," he said,
      "depended on my speed. To me France was in Grenoble. That place was a
      hundred miles distant, but I and my companions reached it in five days;
      and with what weather and what roads! I entered the city just as the Comte
      d'Artois, warned by the telegraph, was quitting the Tuileries."
    
As soon as the moon rose, around one or two in the morning on the 2nd, the camps were packed up, and Napoleon ordered his troops to move to Grasse. He expected to find a road he had planned during the Empire, but he was disappointed; the Bourbons had scrapped such costly projects due to lack of funds. Bonaparte was forced to go through narrow, snow-covered passes and left his carriage and two cannons, which had been unloaded, with the local government. This was reported as a capture in the day's bulletins. The municipal leaders of Grasse strongly supported the Royalist cause, but the Emperor's sudden arrival didn't give them much time to debate, and they quickly submitted to him. After passing through the town, he stopped on a small rise just outside, where he had breakfast. He was soon surrounded by the entire local population and heard the same sentiments and requests as before he left France. A number of petitions had already been prepared and handed to him, as if he had just come from Paris on a tour across the regions. One person complained that their pension hadn't been paid, another said their Legion of Honour cross had been taken away. Some of the more dissatisfied locals quietly informed Napoleon that the town authorities were very against him, but the majority of the people were loyal and just waited for the right moment to deal with the miscreants once he was gone. He replied, "Don't rush it. Let them feel the frustration of seeing our success without having anything to blame us for." The Emperor moved forward as quickly as possible. "Victory," he said, "depended on my speed. To me, France started in Grenoble. That place was a hundred miles away, but my team and I reached it in five days; and with what weather and what roads! I entered the city just as the Comte d'Artois, alerted by the telegraph, was leaving the Tuileries."







      Napoleon himself was so perfectly convinced of the state of affairs that
      he knew his success in no way depended on the force he might bring with
      him. A 'piquet' of 'gens d'armes', he said, was all that was necessary.
      Everything turned out as he foresaw. At first he owned he was not without
      some degree of uncertainty and apprehension. As he advanced, however, the
      whole population declared themselves enthusiastically in his favour: but
      he saw no soldiers. It was not till he arrived between Mure and Vizille,
      within five or six leagues from Grenoble, and on the fifth day after his
      landing, that he met a battalion. The commanding officer refused to hold
      even a parley. The Emperor, without hesitation, advanced alone, and 100
      grenadiers marched at some distance behind him, with their arms reversed.
      The sight of Napoleon, his well-known costume, and his gray military
      greatcoat, had a magical effect on the soldiers, and they stood
      motionless. Napoleon went straight up to them and baring his breast said,
      "Let him that has the heart kill his Emperor!" The soldiers threw down
      their arms, their eyes moistened with tears, and cries of "Vive
      l'Empereur!" resounded on every side. Napoleon ordered the battalion to
      wheel round to the right, and all marched on together.
    
Napoleon was completely confident in the situation, knowing that his success didn't rely on the number of troops he could bring. He claimed that a small detachment of soldiers was all he needed. Everything unfolded as he predicted. Initially, he admitted to feeling a bit uncertain and anxious. However, as he moved forward, the entire population enthusiastically supported him, but he still didn't see any soldiers. It wasn't until he arrived between Mure and Vizille, about five or six leagues from Grenoble, and on the fifth day after his landing, that he finally encountered a battalion. The commanding officer refused to even talk. Without hesitation, the Emperor moved forward alone, with 100 grenadiers marching some distance behind him, their arms reversed. The sight of Napoleon in his well-known uniform and gray military greatcoat had a magical impact on the soldiers, making them freeze in place. He approached them directly and, exposing his chest, proclaimed, "Let anyone who has the courage kill his Emperor!" The soldiers dropped their weapons, tears in their eyes, and shouts of "Long live the Emperor!" echoed all around. Napoleon ordered the battalion to turn right, and they all marched together.







      At a short distance from Grenoble Colonel Labedoyere, who had been sent at
      the head of the 7th regiment to oppose his passage, came to join the
      Emperor. The impulse thus given in a manner decided the question.
      Labedoyere's superior officer in vain interfered to restrain his
      enthusiasm and that of his men. The tri-coloured cockades, which had been
      concealed in the hollow of a drum, were eagerly distributed by Labedoyere
      among them, and they threw away the white cockade as a badge of their
      nation's dishonour. The peasantry of Dauphiny, the cradle of the
      Revolution, lined the roadside: they were transported and mad with joy.
      The first battalion, which has just been alluded to, had shown some signs
      of hesitation, but thousands of the country people crowded round it, and
      by their shouts of "Vive l'Empereur!" endeavoured to urge the troops to
      decision, while others who followed in Napoleon's rear encouraged his
      little troop to advance by assuring them that they would meet with
      success. Napoleon said he could have taken 2,000,000 of these peasants
      with him to Paris, but that then he would have been called "the King of
      the Jaequerie."
    
Not far from Grenoble, Colonel Labedoyere, who had been sent to lead the 7th regiment to block the Emperor's path, came to join him. This action decisively influenced the outcome. Labedoyere's commanding officer tried unsuccessfully to dampen his enthusiasm and that of his men. The tricolor cockades, which had been hidden in a drum, were eagerly handed out by Labedoyere, and the soldiers tossed aside the white cockade, a symbol of their nation's disgrace. The peasant population of Dauphiny, the birthplace of the Revolution, stood along the road, overjoyed and exuberant. The first battalion, previously uncertain, found themselves surrounded by thousands of local people shouting "Vive l'Empereur!" encouraging the troops to take a stand. Others following behind Napoleon pushed them forward with promises of success. Napoleon remarked that he could have taken 2,000,000 of these peasants with him to Paris, but then he would have been labeled "the King of the Jaequerie."







      Napoleon issued two proclamations on the road. He at first regretted that
      he had not had them printed before he left Elba; but this could not have
      been done without some risk of betraying his secret designs. He dictated
      them on board the vessel, where every man who could write was employed in
      copying them. These copies soon became very scarce; many of them were
      illegible; and it was not till he arrived at Gap, on the 5th of March,
      that he found means to have them printed. They were from that time
      circulated and read everywhere with the utmost avidity.
    
Napoleon issued two proclamations on the road. At first, he regretted not having them printed before leaving Elba, but doing so would have risked revealing his secret plans. He dictated them on board the ship, where everyone who could write was busy copying them. These copies quickly became rare; many were hard to read, and it wasn't until he arrived in Gap on March 5 that he managed to get them printed. From that point on, they were circulated and read everywhere with great enthusiasm.







      The address to the army was considered as being still more masterly and
      eloquent, and it was certainly well suited to the taste of French
      soldiers, who, as Bourrienne remarks, are wonderfully pleased with
      grandiloquence, metaphor, and hyperbole, though they do not always
      understand what they mean. Even a French author of some distinction
      praises this address as something sublime. "The proclamation to the army,"
      says he, "is full of energy: it could not fail to make all military
      imaginations vibrate. That prophetic phrase, 'The eagle, with the national
      colours, will fly from church steeple to church steeple, till it settles
      on the towers of Notre Dame,' was happy in the extreme."
    
The speech to the army was seen as even more skillful and powerful, perfectly fitting the preferences of French soldiers, who, as Bourrienne points out, really enjoy grand language, metaphors, and exaggerations, even if they don’t always grasp their meaning. Even a well-known French writer praises this speech as something extraordinary. "The proclamation to the army," he states, "is full of energy: it’s bound to stir the imaginations of all military minds. That prophetic line, 'The eagle, with the national colors, will fly from church steeple to church steeple, until it lands on the towers of Notre Dame,' was incredibly clever."







      These words certainly produced an immense effect on the French soldiery,
      who everywhere shouted, "Vive l'Empereur!" "Vive le petit Caporal!" "We
      will die for our old comrade!" with the most genuine enthusiasm.
    
These words definitely had a huge impact on the French soldiers, who everywhere shouted, "Long live the Emperor!" "Long live the little Corporal!" "We will die for our old comrade!" with the utmost enthusiasm.







      It was some distance in advance of Grenoble that Labedoyere joined, but he
      could not make quite sure of the garrison of that city, which was
      commanded by General Marchand, a man resolved to be faithful to his latest
      master. The shades of night had fallen when Bonaparte arrived in front of
      the fortress of Grenoble, where he stood for some minutes in a painful
      state of suspense and indecision.
    
It was a good ways ahead of Grenoble that Labedoyere joined, but he couldn't be entirely sure about the garrison of that city, which was led by General Marchand, a man determined to stay loyal to his most recent boss. Night had set in when Bonaparte reached the fortress of Grenoble, where he stood for several minutes in a tense state of uncertainty and hesitation.







      It was on the 7th of March, at nightfall, that Bonaparte thus stood before
      the walls of Grenoble. He found the gates closed, and the commanding
      officer refused to open them. The garrison assembled on the ramparts
      shouted "Vive l'Empereur!" and shook hands with Napoleon's followers
      through the wickets, but they could not be prevailed on to do more. It was
      necessary to force the gates, and this was done under the mouths of ten
      pieces of artillery, loaded with grapeshot. In none of his battles did
      Napoleon ever imagine himself to be in so much danger as at the entrance
      into Grenoble. The soldiers seemed to turn upon him with furious gestures:
      for a moment it might be supposed that they were going to tear him to
      pieces. But these were the suppressed transports of love and joy. The
      Emperor and his horse were both borne along by the multitude, and he had
      scarcely time to breathe in the inn where he alighted when an increased
      tumult was heard without; the inhabitants of Grenoble came to offer him
      the broken gates of the city, since they could not present him with the
      keys.
    
On the evening of March 7th, Bonaparte stood before the walls of Grenoble. He found the gates closed, and the commanding officer refused to open them. The garrison gathered on the ramparts shouted "Long live the Emperor!" and shook hands with Napoleon's supporters through the wickets, but they wouldn't do anything more. It was necessary to break down the gates, which was done under the fire of ten pieces of artillery loaded with grapeshot. In none of his battles did Napoleon ever feel as much danger as he did at the entrance to Grenoble. The soldiers seemed to turn on him with furious gestures; for a moment, it looked like they were going to tear him apart. But these were actually suppressed feelings of love and joy. The Emperor and his horse were swept up by the crowd, and he barely had time to catch his breath in the inn where he stopped before hearing an even louder commotion outside; the people of Grenoble came to offer him the broken gates of the city since they couldn’t present him with the keys.







      From Grenoble to Paris Napoleon found no further opposition. During the
      four days of his stay at Lyons, where he had arrived on the 10th, there
      were continually upwards of 20,000 people assembled before his windows;
      whose acclamations were unceasing. It would never have been supposed that
      the Emperor had even for a moment been absent from the country. He issued
      orders, signed decrees, reviewed the troops, as if nothing had happened.
      The military corps, the public bodies, and all classes of citizens,
      eagerly came forward to tender their homage and their services. The Comte
      d'Artois, who had hastened to Lyons, as the Duc and Duchesse d'Augouleme
      had done to Bourdeaux, like them in vain attempted to make a stand. The
      Mounted National Guard (who were known Royalists) deserted him at this
      crisis, and in his flight only one of them chose to follow him. Bonaparte
      refused their services when offered to him, and with a chivalrous feeling
      worthy of being recorded sent the decoration of the Legion of Honour to
      the single volunteer who had thus shown his fidelity by following the
      Duke.
    
From Grenoble to Paris, Napoleon faced no further opposition. During his four-day stay in Lyons, where he arrived on the 10th, more than 20,000 people gathered outside his windows, cheering constantly. You would never have guessed that the Emperor had even been away from the country for a moment. He issued orders, signed decrees, and reviewed the troops as if nothing had happened. The military corps, public officials, and all types of citizens eagerly came forward to offer their loyalty and support. The Comte d'Artois, who rushed to Lyons like the Duc and Duchesse d'Augouleme went to Bordeaux, tried in vain to make a stand. The Mounted National Guard, known Royalists, deserted him at this critical moment, and only one chose to follow him in his flight. Bonaparte declined their help when it was offered, and with a sense of chivalry worth noting, sent the decoration of the Legion of Honour to the single volunteer who had shown his loyalty by following the Duke.







      As soon as the Emperor quitted Lyons he wrote to Ney, who with his army
      was at Lons-le-Saulnier, to come and join him. Ney had set off from the
      Court with a promise to bring Napoleon, "like a wild beast in a cage, to
      Paris." Scott excuses Ney's heart at the expense of his head, and fancies
      that the Marshal was rather carried away by circumstances, by vanity, and
      by fickleness, than actuated by premeditated treachery, and it is quite
      possible that these protestations were sincerely uttered when Ney left
      Paris, but, infected by the ardour of his troops, he was unable to resist
      a contagion so much in harmony with all his antecedents, and to attack not
      only his leader in many a time of peril, but also the sovereign who had
      forwarded his career through every grade of the army.
    
As soon as the Emperor left Lyons, he wrote to Ney, who was with his army at Lons-le-Saulnier, asking him to join him. Ney had left the Court with a promise to bring Napoleon, "like a wild beast in a cage, to Paris." Scott defends Ney's emotions over his reasoning, believing that the Marshal was more influenced by circumstances, vanity, and fickleness than by deliberate betrayal. It's quite possible that Ney's protestations were genuinely expressed when he left Paris, but caught up in the enthusiasm of his troops, he couldn't resist a temptation that matched his past behavior, leading him to turn against not just his leader in times of danger but also the sovereign who had supported his rise through every level of the army.







      The facts of the case were these:—
    
The details of the case were as follows:—







      On the 11th of March Ney, being at Besancon, learned that Napoleon was at
      Lyons. To those who doubted whether his troops would fight against their
      old comrades he said, "They shall fight! I will take a musket from a
      grenadier and begin the action myself! I will run my sword to the hilt in
      the body of the first man who hesitates to fire." At the same time he
      wrote to the Minister of War at Paris that he hoped to see a fortunate
      close to this mad enterprise.
    
On March 11th, Ney, who was in Besancon, found out that Napoleon was in Lyons. To those who questioned whether his troops would fight against their former comrades, he said, "They will fight! I'll grab a musket from a grenadier and start the fight myself! I'll run my sword through the first person who hesitates to shoot." At the same time, he wrote to the Minister of War in Paris, expressing his hope for a successful end to this crazy mission.







      He then advanced to Lons-le-Saulnier, where, on the night between the 13th
      and 14th of March, not quite three days after his vehement protestations
      of fidelity, he received, without hesitation, a letter from Bonaparte,
      inviting him, by his old appellation of the "Bravest of the Brave," to
      join his standard. With this invitation Ney complied, and published an
      order of the day that declared the cause of the Bourbons, which he had
      sworn to defend, lost for ever.
    
He then moved on to Lons-le-Saulnier, where, on the night of March 13th to 14th, just under three days after his passionate vows of loyalty, he received a letter from Bonaparte without any hesitation. The letter invited him, using his old title "Bravest of the Brave," to join his cause. Ney accepted this invitation and issued an order of the day stating that the Bourbon cause, which he had sworn to protect, was lost forever.







      It is pleaded in extenuation of Ney's defection that both his officers and
      men were beyond his control, and determined to join their old Master; but
      in that case he might have given up his command, and retired in the same
      honourable way that Marshals Macdonald and Marmont and several other
      generals did. But even among his own officers Ney had an example set him,
      for many of them, after remonstrating in vain, threw up their commands.
      One of them broke his sword in two and threw the pieces at Ney's feet,
      saying, "It is easier for a man of honour to break iron than to break his
      word."
    
It's argued in Ney's defense that both his officers and men were beyond his control and determined to rejoin their old leader. However, in that case, he could have stepped down from his command and retired with the same honor as Marshals Macdonald, Marmont, and other generals did. Even among his own officers, there was an example for him, as many, after unsuccessfully arguing against it, resigned their positions. One of them broke his sword in half and threw the pieces at Ney's feet, saying, "It's easier for an honorable man to break iron than to break his word."







      Napoleon, when at St. Helena, gave a very different reading to these
      incidents. On this subject he was heard to say, "If I except Labedoyere,
      who flew to me with enthusiasm and affection, and another individual, who,
      of his own accord, rendered me important services, nearly all the other
      generals whom I met on my route evinced hesitation and uncertainty; they
      yielded only to the impulse about them, if indeed they did not manifest a
      hostile feeling towards me. This was the case with Ney, with Massena, St.
      Cyr, Soult, as well as with Macdonald and the Duke of Belluno, so that if
      the Bourbons had reason to complain of the complete desertion of the
      soldiers and the people, they had no right to reproach the chiefs of the
      army with conspiring against them, who had shown themselves mere children
      in politics, and would be looked upon as neither emigrants nor patriots."
    
Napoleon, while at St. Helena, had a very different take on these events. He was heard saying, "Aside from Labedoyere, who came to me with enthusiasm and affection, and another person who voluntarily provided me with significant help, almost all the other generals I encountered on my path showed hesitation and uncertainty; they only acted based on the situation around them, and some even displayed a hostile attitude towards me. This included Ney, Massena, St. Cyr, Soult, and also Macdonald and the Duke of Belluno. So, while the Bourbons had every reason to complain about the complete abandonment by the soldiers and the public, they couldn’t justly accuse the army leaders of conspiring against them. They had acted like novices in politics and wouldn't be considered either emigrants or patriots."







      Between Lyons and Fontainebleau Napoleon often travelled several miles
      ahead of his army with no other escort than a few Polish lancers. His
      advanced guard now generally consisted of the troops (miscalled Royal) who
      happened to be before him on the road whither they had been sent to oppose
      him, and to whom couriers were sent forward to give notice of the
      Emperor's approach, in order that they might be quite ready to join him
      with the due military ceremonies. White flags and cockades everywhere
      disappeared; the tri-colour resumed its pride of place. It was spring, and
      true to its season the violet had reappeared! The joy of the soldiers and
      the lower orders was almost frantic, but even among the industrious poor
      there were not wanting many who regretted this precipitate return to the
      old order of things—to conscription, war, and bloodshed, while in
      the superior classes of society there was a pretty general consternation.
      The vain, volatile soldiery, however, thought of nothing but their
      Emperor, saw nothing before them but the restoration of all their laurels,
      the humiliation of England, and the utter defeat of the Russians,
      Prussians, and Austrians.
    
Between Lyons and Fontainebleau, Napoleon often traveled several miles ahead of his army with no other escort than a few Polish lancers. His advance guard usually consisted of the troops (miscalled Royal) stationed ahead on the road to oppose him, and couriers were sent ahead to inform them of the Emperor's arrival, so they could be ready to join him with the proper military honors. White flags and cockades vanished everywhere; the tri-color regained its prominence. It was spring, and true to the season, violets had reappeared! The joy of the soldiers and the lower classes was almost frantic, but even among the hardworking poor, many regretted this hasty return to the old ways—conscription, war, and bloodshed—while the upper classes of society experienced widespread alarm. The vain, fickle soldiers, however, focused solely on their Emperor, seeing only the restoration of their glory, the humiliation of England, and the complete defeat of the Russians, Prussians, and Austrians.







      On the night between the 19th and 20th of March Napoleon reached
      Fontainebleau, and again paused, as had formerly been his custom, with
      short, quick steps through the antiquated but splendid galleries of that
      old palace. What must have been his feelings on revisiting the chamber in
      which, the year before, it is said he had attempted suicide!
    
On the night of March 19th to 20th, Napoleon arrived at Fontainebleau and once again stopped, as he often did before, taking quick, short steps through the old but impressive halls of that ancient palace. What must he have felt when returning to the room where, the year before, it was said he had tried to take his own life!







      Louis XVIII., left the Palace of the Tuileries at nearly the same hour
      that Bonaparte entered that of Fontainebleau.
    
Louis XVIII left the Palace of the Tuileries around the same time that Bonaparte entered the Palace of Fontainebleau.







      The most forlorn hope of the Bourbons was now in a considerable army
      posted between Fontainebleau and Paris. Meanwhile the two armies
      approached each other at Melun; that of the King was commanded by Marshal
      Macdonald. On the 20th his troops were drawn up in three lines to receive
      the invaders, who were said to be advancing from Fontainebleau. There was
      a long pause of suspense, of a nature which seldom fails to render men
      more accessible to strong and sudden emotions. The glades of the forest,
      and the acclivity which leads to it, were in full view of the Royal army,
      but presented the appearance of a deep solitude. All was silence, except
      when the regimental bands of music, at the command of the officers, who
      remained generally faithful, played the airs of "Vive Henri Quatre," "O
      Richard," "La Belle Gabrielle," and other tunes connected with the cause
      and family of the Bourbons. The sounds excited no corresponding sentiments
      among the soldiers.
    
The Bourbons' last hope rested on a sizable army positioned between Fontainebleau and Paris. Meanwhile, the two armies were moving closer to each other at Melun; the King's army was led by Marshal Macdonald. On the 20th, his troops were lined up in three rows to confront the invaders, who were reportedly advancing from Fontainebleau. There was a long pause filled with suspense, a feeling that usually makes people more vulnerable to intense emotions. The clearings of the forest and the slope leading to it were visible to the Royal army, but they seemed profoundly deserted. Everything was silent, except for the regimental bands, commanded by the mostly loyal officers, playing tunes like "Vive Henri Quatre," "O Richard," "La Belle Gabrielle," and other songs tied to the Bourbon cause and family. The music stirred no matching feelings among the soldiers.







      At length, about noon, a galloping of horse was heard. An open carriage
      appeared, surrounded by a few hussars, and drawn by four horses. It came
      on at full speed, and Napoleon, jumping from the vehicle, was in the midst
      of the ranks which had been formed to oppose him. His escort threw
      themselves from their horses, mingled with their ancient comrades, and the
      effect of their exhortations was instantaneous on men whose minds were
      already half made up to the purpose which they now accomplished. There was
      a general shout of "Vive Napoleon!" The last army of the Bourbons passed
      from their side, and no further obstruction existed betwixt Napoleon and
      the capital, which he was once more—but for a brief space—to
      inhabit as a sovereign.
    
Around noon, the sound of galloping horses was heard. An open carriage appeared, surrounded by a few hussars and drawn by four horses. It came racing forward, and Napoleon jumped out of the vehicle and into the midst of the ranks that had been formed to oppose him. His escort got off their horses and mingled with their old comrades, and their encouragement had an immediate impact on men whose minds were already leaning towards the decision they were now making. There was a loud shout of "Long live Napoleon!" The last army of the Bourbons shifted allegiance, and there was no longer any barrier between Napoleon and the capital, which he was about to inhabit again—if only for a short time—as its ruler.







      Louis, accompanied only by a few household troops, had scarcely turned his
      back on the capital of his ancestors when Lavalette hastened from a place
      of concealment and seized on the Post-office in the name of Napoleon. By
      this measure all the King's proclamations' were intercepted, and the
      restoration of the Emperor was announced to all the departments. General
      Excelmans, who had just renewed his oath to Louis, pulled down with his
      own hands the white flag that was floating over the Tuileries, and hoisted
      the three-coloured banner.
    
Louis, accompanied only by a few soldiers, had barely left the capital of his ancestors when Lavalette rushed out from hiding and took control of the Post Office in Napoleon's name. This move intercepted all of the King's announcements, and the return of the Emperor was declared to all the regions. General Excelmans, who had just sworn loyalty to Louis, personally took down the white flag flying over the Tuileries and raised the tricolor flag.







      It was late in the evening of the 20th that Bonaparte entered Paris in an
      open carriage, which was driven straight to the gilded gates of the
      Tuileries. He received the acclamations of the military and of the lower
      classes of the suburbs, but most of the respectable citizens looked on in
      silent wonderment. It was quite evident then that he was recalled by a
      party—a party, in truth, numerous and powerful, but not by the
      unanimous voice of the nation. The enthusiasm of his immediate adherents,
      however, made up for the silence and lukewarmness of others. They filled
      and crammed the square of the Carrousel, and the courts and avenues of the
      Tuileries; they pressed so closely upon him that he was obliged to cry
      out, "My friends, you stifle me!" and his aides de camp were compelled to
      carry him in their arms up the grand staircase, and thence into the royal
      apartments. It was observed, however, that amongst these ardent friends
      were many men who had been the first to desert him in 1814, and that these
      individuals were the most enthusiastic in their demonstrations, the
      loudest in their shouts!
    
It was late in the evening of the 20th when Bonaparte entered Paris in an open carriage, which went straight to the gilded gates of the Tuileries. He was greeted by cheers from the military and from the working-class people in the suburbs, but most of the respectable citizens observed in silent amazement. It was clear that he was called back by a group—a group that was indeed large and powerful, but not by the unanimous will of the nation. The enthusiasm of his closest supporters, however, made up for the silence and indifference of others. They packed the square of the Carrousel and the courts and avenues of the Tuileries; they crowded around him so closely that he had to shout, "My friends, you're suffocating me!" and his aides had to carry him in their arms up the grand staircase and into the royal apartments. It was noticed, though, that among these passionate supporters were many who had been the first to abandon him in 1814, and these individuals were the most fervent in their displays, the loudest in their cheers!







      And thus was Napoleon again at the Tuileries, where, even more than at
      Fontainebleau, his mind was flooded by the deep and painful recollections
      of the past! A few nights after his return thither he sent for M. Horan,
      one of the physicians who had attended Josephine during her last illness.
      "So, Monsieur Horan," said he, "you did not leave the Empress during her
      malady?"—"No, Sire."
    
And so Napoleon was back at the Tuileries, where, even more than at Fontainebleau, he was overwhelmed by deep and painful memories of the past! A few nights after his return there, he called for M. Horan, one of the doctors who had cared for Josephine during her final illness. "So, Monsieur Horan," he said, "you didn't leave the Empress during her illness?"—"No, Sire."







      "What was the cause of that malady?"—"Uneasiness of mind . . .
      grief."—"You believe that?" (and Napoleon laid a strong emphasis on
      the word believe, looking steadfastly in the doctor's face). He then
      asked, "Was she long ill? Did she suffer much?"—"She was ill a week,
      Sire; her Majesty suffered little bodily pain."—"Did she see that
      she was dying? Did she show courage?"—"A sign her Majesty made when
      she could no longer express herself leaves me no doubt that she felt her
      end approaching; she seamed to contemplate it without fear."—"Well!—well!"
      and then Napoleon much affected drew close to M. Horan, and added, "You
      say that she was in grief; from what did that arise?"—"From passing
      events, Sire; from your Majesty's position last year."—"Ah! she used
      to speak of me then?"—"Very often." Here Napoleon drew his hand
      across his eyes, which seemed filled with tears. He then went on. "Good
      woman!—Excellent Josephine! She loved me truly—she—did
      she not? . . . Ah! She was a Frenchwoman!"—"Yes, Sire, she loved
      you, and she would have proved it had it not been for dread of displeasing
      you: she had conceived an idea."—"How? . . . What would she have
      done?" "She one day said that as Empress of the French she would drive
      through Paris with eight horses to her coach, and all her household in
      gala livery, to go and rejoin you at Fontainebleau, and never quit you
      more."—"She would have done it—she was capable of doing it!"
    
"What was the cause of that illness?"—"Restlessness of the mind... sadness."—"Do you really believe that?" (and Napoleon emphasized the word believe, looking steadily at the doctor). He then asked, "Was she sick for long? Did she suffer a lot?"—"She was ill for a week, Sir; her Majesty felt little physical pain."—"Did she know she was dying? Did she show courage?"—"A gesture she made when she could no longer speak leaves me no doubt that she sensed her end was near; she seemed to face it without fear."—"Well!—well!" and then deeply moved, Napoleon approached M. Horan and added, "You say she was grieving; what was the reason for that?"—"From recent events, Sir; from your Majesty's situation last year."—"Ah! Did she often speak of me back then?"—"Very often." Here, Napoleon wiped his eyes, which seemed filled with tears. He then continued. "Good woman!—Wonderful Josephine! She truly loved me—didn't she? . . . Ah! She was a Frenchwoman!"—"Yes, Sir, she loved you, and she would have shown it if she hadn't been afraid of upsetting you: she had an idea."—"What kind of idea? What would she have done?" "One day, she said that as Empress of the French, she would drive through Paris in a coach pulled by eight horses, with all her staff in formal attire, to come and join you at Fontainebleau and never leave you again."—"She would have done it—she was fully capable of doing it!"







      Napoleon again betrayed deep emotion, on recovering from which he asked
      the physician the most minute questions about the nature of Josephine's
      disease, the friends and attendants who were around her at the hour of her
      death, and the conduct of her two children, Eugène and Hortense.
    
Napoleon once again showed deep emotion, and after calming down, he asked the doctor very detailed questions about Josephine's illness, the friends and caregivers who were with her at the time of her death, and the actions of her two children, Eugène and Hortense.








 


 




















      CHAPTER V.
    



      1815.
    
1815.


   Message from the Tuileries—My interview with the King—
   My appointment to the office of Prefect of the Police—Council at
   the Tuileries—Order for arrests—Fouches escape—Davoust
   unmolested—Conversation with M. de Blacas—The intercepted letter,
   and time lost—Evident understanding between Murat and Napoleon—
   Plans laid at Elba—My departure from Paris—The post-master of
   Fins—My arrival at Lille—Louis XVIII. detained an hour at the
   gates—His majesty obliged to leave France—My departure for
   Hamburg—The Duc de Berri at Brussels.

   Message from the Tuileries—My meeting with the King—  
   My appointment as Prefect of Police—Council at the Tuileries—Order for arrests—Fouche's escape—Davoust untouched—Conversation with M. de Blacas—The intercepted letter, and time wasted—Clear agreement between Murat and Napoleon—Plans made at Elba—My departure from Paris—The postmaster of Fins—My arrival in Lille—Louis XVIII. held up for an hour at the gates—His majesty forced to leave France—My departure for Hamburg—The Duc de Berri in Brussels.







      Those who opposed the execution of the treaty concluded with Napoleon at
      the time of his abdication were guilty of a great error, for they afforded
      him a fair pretext for leaving the island of Elba. The details of that
      extraordinary enterprise are known to every one, and I shall not repeat
      what has been told over and over again. For my own part, as soon as I saw
      with what rapidity Bonaparte was marching upon Lyons, and the enthusiasm
      with which he was received by the troops and the people, I prepared to
      retire to Belgium, there to await the denouement of this new drama.
    
Those who were against the treaty made with Napoleon at the time of his abdication made a big mistake, as they gave him a solid excuse to leave the island of Elba. Everyone knows the details of that remarkable event, so I won’t go over what has been repeated countless times. As soon as I saw how quickly Bonaparte was advancing on Lyons and the excitement with which he was welcomed by the troops and the people, I decided to head to Belgium to wait for the outcome of this new situation.







      Every preparation for my departure was completed on the evening of the
      13th of March, and I was ready to depart, to avoid the persecutions of
      which I expected I should be the object, when I received a message from
      the Tuileries stating that the King desired to see me. I of course lost no
      time in proceeding to the Palace, and went straight to M. Hue to inquire
      of him why I had been sent for. He occupied the apartments in which I
      passed the three most laborious and anxious years of my life. M. Hue,
      perceiving that I felt a certain degree of uneasiness at being summoned to
      the Tuileries at that hour of the night, hastened to inform me that the
      King wished to appoint me Prefect of the Police. He conducted me to the
      King's chamber, where his Majesty thus addressed me kindly, but in an
      impressive manner, "M. de Bourrienne, can we rely upon you? I expect much
      from your zeal and fidelity."—"Your Majesty," replied I, "shall have
      no reason to complain of my betraying your confidence."—"Well, I
      re-establish the Prefecture of the Police, and I appoint you Prefect. Do
      your best, M. de Bourrienne, in the discharge of your duties; I count upon
      you."
    
Every preparation for my departure was finished on the evening of March 13, and I was set to leave to avoid the harassment I expected to face when I received a message from the Tuileries saying that the King wanted to see me. I quickly made my way to the Palace and went straight to M. Hue to ask him why I had been summoned. He occupied the rooms where I spent the three most challenging and anxiety-ridden years of my life. M. Hue, noticing that I felt somewhat uneasy about being called to the Tuileries at that hour, quickly informed me that the King wanted to appoint me Prefect of Police. He led me to the King's chamber, where His Majesty addressed me kindly but firmly, "M. de Bourrienne, can we count on you? I expect a lot from your dedication and loyalty." I replied, "Your Majesty, you will have no reason to doubt my loyalty." The King then said, "Well, I'm reinstating the Prefecture of the Police, and I appoint you as Prefect. Do your best, M. de Bourrienne, in carrying out your duties; I’m counting on you."







      By a singular coincidence, on the very day (the 13th of March) when I
      received this appointment Napoleon, who was at Lyons, signed the decree
      which excluded from the amnesty he had granted thirteen individuals, among
      whose names mine was inscribed. This decree confirmed me in the
      presentiments I had conceived as soon as I heard of the landing of
      Bonaparte. On returning home from the Tuileries after receiving my
      appointment a multitude of ideas crowded on my mind. At the first moment I
      had been prompted only by the wish to serve the cause of the King, but I
      was alarmed when I came to examine the extent of the responsibility I had
      taken upon myself. However, I determined to meet with courage the
      difficulties that presented themselves, and I must say that I had every
      reason to be satisfied with the manner in which I was seconded by M.
      Foudras, the Inspector-General of the Police.
    
By an incredible coincidence, on the very day (March 13th) when I got this appointment, Napoleon, who was in Lyons, signed the decree that excluded thirteen people from the amnesty he had granted, and my name was on that list. This decree confirmed my fears that had arisen as soon as I heard about Bonaparte's landing. On my way back home from the Tuileries after receiving my appointment, a flood of thoughts overwhelmed me. At first, I was driven only by the desire to support the King, but I became alarmed when I realized how much responsibility I had taken on. However, I resolved to face the challenges ahead with courage, and I must say I had every reason to be pleased with how well M. Foudras, the Inspector-General of the Police, supported me.







      Even now I am filled with astonishment when I think of the Council that
      was held at the Tuileries on the evening of the 13th of March in M. de
      Blacas' apartments. The ignorance of the members of that Council
      respecting our situation, and their confidence in the useless measures
      they had adopted against Napoleon, exceed all conception.
    
Even now, I’m amazed when I think about the meeting that took place at the Tuileries on the evening of March 13th in M. de Blacas' rooms. The members of that meeting had no idea about our situation, and their faith in the ineffective measures they had taken against Napoleon is beyond belief.







      Will it be believed that those great statesmen, who had the control of the
      telegraph, the post-office, the police and its agents, money-in short,
      everything which constitutes power—asked me to give them information
      respecting the advance of Bonaparte? What could I say to them? I could
      only repeat the reports which were circulated on the Exchange, and those
      which I had collected here and there during the last twenty-four hours. I
      did not conceal that the danger was imminent, and that all their
      precautions would be of no avail. The question then arose as to what
      course should be adapted by the King. It was impossible that the monarch
      could remain at the Capital, and yet, where was he to go? One proposed
      that he should go to Bordeaux, another to La Vendée, and a third to
      Normandy, and a fourth member of the Council was of opinion that the King
      should be conducted to Melun. I conceived that if a battle should take
      place anywhere it would probably be in the neighbourhood of that town, but
      the councillor who made this last suggestion assured us that the presence
      of the King in an open carriage and eight horses would produce a wonderful
      effect on the minds of the troops. This project was merely ridiculous; the
      others appeared to be dangerous and impracticable. I declared to the
      Council that, considering the situation of things, it was necessary to
      renounce all idea of resistance by force of arms; that no soldier would
      fire a musket, and that it was madness to attempt to take any other view
      of things. "Defection," said I, "is inevitable. The soldiers are drinking
      in their barracks the money which you have been giving them for some days
      past to purchase their fidelity. They say Louis XVIII., is a very decent
      sort of man, but 'Vive le petit Caporal!'"
    
Will anyone believe that those influential leaders who controlled the telegraph, the post office, the police and its agents, money—in short, everything that represents power—asked me for information about Bonaparte's movements? What could I tell them? I could only share the reports that were going around on the Exchange and those I had gathered here and there over the last twenty-four hours. I didn’t hide the fact that danger was imminent and that all their precautions would be useless. The question then arose about what the King should do. It was impossible for him to stay in the Capital, but where could he go? One suggested Bordeaux, another La Vendée, a third proposed Normandy, and a fourth member of the Council thought the King should be taken to Melun. I believed that if a battle was going to happen, it would likely be near that town, but the councillor who made that last suggestion insisted that the King’s presence in an open carriage with eight horses would have a tremendous effect on the troops. This idea was simply ridiculous; the others seemed dangerous and impractical. I told the Council that, given the situation, we needed to give up any thoughts of resisting with force; that no soldier would fire a musket, and that it was madness to see things any other way. "Defection," I said, "is inevitable. The soldiers are spending the money you’ve been giving them for their loyalty while drinking in their barracks. They say Louis XVIII is a decent guy, but 'Vive le petit Caporal!'"







      Immediately on the landing of Napoleon the King sent an extraordinary
      courier to Marmont, who was at Chatillon whither he had gone to take a
      last leave of his dying mother. I saw him one day after he had had an
      interview with the King; I think it was on the 6th or 7th of March. After
      some conversation on the landing of Napoleon, and the means of preventing
      him from reaching Paris, Marmont said to me, "This is what I dwelt most
      strongly upon in the interview I have just had with the King. 'Sire,' said
      I, 'I doubt not Bonaparte's intention of coming to Paris, and the best way
      to prevent him doing so would be for your Majesty to remain here. It is
      necessary to secure the Palace of the Tuileries against a surprise, and to
      prepare it for resisting a siege, in which it would be indispensable to
      use cannon. You must shut yourself up in your palace, with the individuals
      of your household and the principal public functionaries, while the Duc
      d'Angoulome should go to Bordeaux, the Duc de Berri to La Vendée, and
      Monsieur to, the Franche-Comte; but they must set off in open day, and
      announce that they are going to collect defenders for your Majesty.—[Monsieur,
      the brother of the King, the Comte d'Artois later Charles X.]
    
Immediately after Napoleon landed, the King sent an urgent courier to Marmont, who was in Chatillon to say goodbye to his dying mother. I met with him the day after he had a meeting with the King; I think it was on March 6th or 7th. After discussing Napoleon's landing and how to stop him from getting to Paris, Marmont told me, "This is what I emphasized most in my meeting with the King. 'Sire,' I said, 'I have no doubt about Bonaparte's intention to come to Paris, and the best way to prevent that is for Your Majesty to stay here. We need to secure the Tuileries Palace against surprise attacks and prepare it to withstand a siege, which will require using cannons. You must shut yourself inside your palace with your household and key public officials, while the Duc d'Angoulême should head to Bordeaux, the Duc de Berri to La Vendée, and Monsieur to the Franche-Comté; but they should leave during the day and announce that they are going to gather defenders for Your Majesty.'"—[Monsieur, the brother of the King, the Comte d'Artois later Charles X.]







      ". . . This is what I said to the King this morning, and I added that I
      would answer for everything if my advice were followed. I am now going to
      direct my aide de camp, Colonel Fabvier, to draw up the plan of defence."
      I did not concur in Marmont's opinion. It is certainly probable that had
      Louis XVIII. remained in his palace the numerous defections which took
      place before the 20th of March would have been checked and some persons
      would not have found so ready an excuse for breaking their oaths of
      allegiance. There can be little doubt, too, but Bonaparte would have
      reflected well before he attempted the siege of the Tuileries.
    
". . . This is what I told the King this morning, and I added that I would take responsibility for everything if my advice was heeded. I'm now going to instruct my aide-de-camp, Colonel Fabvier, to prepare the defense plan." I didn’t agree with Marmont's view. It’s quite possible that if Louis XVIII had stayed in his palace, the numerous betrayals that happened before March 20 would have been prevented, and some people wouldn’t have found such an easy excuse to break their oaths of loyalty. There’s also little doubt that Bonaparte would have thought twice before trying to attack the Tuileries.






 —[Marmont (tome vii. p. 87) gives the full details of his scheme
   for provisioning and garrisoning the Tuileries which the King was to
   hold while his family spread themselves throughout the provinces.
   The idea had nothing strange in it, for the same advice was given by
   General Mathieu Dumas (Souvenirs, tome iii. p. 564), a man not
   likely to suggest any rash schemes. Jaucourt, writing to
   Talleyrand, obviously believed in the wisdom of the King's
   remaining, as did the Czar; see Talleyrand's Correspondence, vol.
   ii. pp. 94, 122, 129. Napoleon would certainly have been placed
   in a strange difficulty, but a king capable of adopting such a
   resolution would never have been required to consider it.]— 
 —[Marmont (vol. VII, p. 87) provides all the details of his plan for supplying and securing the Tuileries, which the King was to occupy while his family was spread out across the provinces. There was nothing unusual about this idea, as the same advice was given by General Mathieu Dumas (Memoirs, vol. III, p. 564), a person unlikely to propose any reckless plans. Jaucourt, in his letter to Talleyrand, clearly believed in the wisdom of the King's staying, as did the Czar; see Talleyrand's Correspondence, vol. II, pp. 94, 122, 129. Napoleon would certainly have found himself in a strange predicament, but a king who could make such a decision would never have needed to consider it.]—







      Marmont supported his opinion by observing that the admiration and
      astonishment excited by the extraordinary enterprise of Napoleon and his
      rapid march to Paris would be counterbalanced by the interest inspired by
      a venerable monarch defying his bold rival and courageously defending his
      throne. While I rendered full justice to the good intentions of the Duke
      of Ragusa, yet I did not think that his advice could be adopted. I opposed
      it as I opposed all the propositions that were made in the Council
      relative to the different places to which the King should retire. I myself
      suggested Lille as being the nearest, and as presenting the greatest
      degree of safety, especially in the first instance.
    
Marmont backed up his opinion by noting that the admiration and shock caused by Napoleon's remarkable campaign and his swift march to Paris would be balanced by the interest generated by a respected king standing up to his daring rival and bravely defending his throne. While I acknowledged the good intentions of the Duke of Ragusa, I felt that his advice couldn’t be followed. I opposed it, just like I opposed all the proposals made in the Council regarding the different locations where the King should retreat. I suggested Lille since it was the closest and offered the greatest level of safety, especially at first.







      It was after midnight when I left the Council of the Tuileries. The
      discussion had terminated, and without coming to any precise resolution it
      was agreed that the different opinions which had been expressed should be
      submitted to Louis XVIII. in order that his Majesty might adopt that which
      should appear to him the best. The King adopted my opinion, but it was not
      acted upon until five days after.
    
It was after midnight when I left the Council of the Tuileries. The discussion had ended, and without reaching a specific resolution, it was agreed that the different viewpoints shared should be presented to Louis XVIII. so that his Majesty could choose the one he thought was best. The King chose my opinion, but it wasn't put into action until five days later.







      My appointment to the Prefecture of the Police was, as will be seen, a
      late thought of measure, almost as late indeed as Napoleon's proposition
      to send me as his Minister Plenipotentiary to Switzerland. In now
      accepting office I was well convinced of the inutility of any effort that
      might be made to arrest the progress of the fast approaching and menacing
      events. Being introduced into the King's cabinet his Majesty asked me what
      I thought of the situation of affairs. "I think, Sire, that Bonaparte will
      be here in five or six days."—"What, sir?"—"Yes, Sire."—"But
      proper measures are taken, the necessary orders given, and the Marshals
      are faithful to me."—"Sire, I suspect no man's fidelity; but I can
      assure your Majesty that, as Bonaparte has landed, he will be here within
      a week. I know him, and your Majesty cannot know him as well as I do; but
      I can venture to assure your Majesty with the same confidence that he will
      not be here six months hence. He will be hurried into acts of folly which
      will ruin him."—"De Bourrienne, I hope the best from events, but if
      misfortune again compel me to leave France, and your second prediction be
      fulfilled, you may rely on me." During this short conversation the King
      appeared perfectly tranquil and resigned.
    
My appointment to the Police Prefecture was, as you'll see, a last-minute decision, almost as last-minute as Napoleon's suggestion to send me as his Minister Plenipotentiary to Switzerland. In accepting this position, I was fully aware that any attempt to halt the fast-approaching, threatening events was pointless. When I was introduced to the King's cabinet, His Majesty asked me what I thought about the current situation. "I believe, Sire, that Bonaparte will be here in five or six days."—"What, sir?"—"Yes, Sire."—"But proper measures are in place, the necessary orders have been given, and the Marshals are loyal to me."—"Sire, I don't doubt anyone's loyalty; however, I assure you that since Bonaparte has landed, he will be here within a week. I know him, and your Majesty can't know him as well as I do; but I can confidently assure you that he won't be here six months from now. He’ll be compelled into reckless actions that will lead to his downfall."—"De Bourrienne, I hope for the best, but if misfortune forces me to leave France again, and your second prediction comes true, you can count on me." During this brief conversation, the King seemed completely calm and resigned.







      The next day I again visited the Tuileries, whither I had at those
      perilous times frequent occasion to repair. On that day I received a list
      of twenty-five persons whom I was ordered to arrest. I took the liberty to
      observe that such a proceeding was not only useless but likely to produce
      a very injurious effect at that critical moment. The reasons I urged had
      not all the effect I expected. However, some relaxation as to twenty-three
      of the twenty-five was conceded, but it was insisted that Fouché and
      Davoust should be arrested without delay. The King repeatedly said, "I
      wish you to arrest Fouché."—"Sire, I beseech your Majesty to
      consider the inutility of such a measure."—"I am resolved upon
      Fouches arrest. But I am sure you will miss him, for Andre could not catch
      him."
    
The next day I went back to the Tuileries, which I often had to visit during those dangerous times. That day, I received a list of twenty-five people I was ordered to arrest. I pointed out that this was not only unnecessary but would likely have a very negative effect at such a critical moment. The reasons I gave didn’t have all the impact I hoped for. However, some leniency was granted regarding twenty-three of the twenty-five, but it was insisted that Fouché and Davoust should be arrested immediately. The King repeatedly said, "I want you to arrest Fouché."—"Sire, I urge your Majesty to think about how pointless this measure is."—"I am determined to arrest Fouché. But I'm sure you'll come to regret it, because André couldn't catch him."







      My nocturnal installation as Prefect of the Police took place some time
      after midnight. I had great repugnance to the arrest of Fouché, but the
      order having been given, there was no alternative but to obey it. I
      communicated the order to M. Foudras, who very coolly observed, "Since we
      are to arrest him you need not be afraid, we shall have him fast
      tomorrow."
    
My late-night appointment as Chief of Police happened shortly after midnight. I really didn’t want to arrest Fouché, but since the order was given, I had no choice but to follow it. I relayed the order to M. Foudras, who calmly said, "Since we're going to arrest him, you don't need to worry, we'll have him secured by tomorrow."







      The next day my agents repaired to the Duke of Otranto's hotel, in the Rue
      d'Artois. On showing their warrant Fouché said, "What does this mean? Your
      warrant is of no force; it is mere waste-paper. It purports to come from
      the Prefect of the Police, but there is no such Prefect." In my opinion
      Fouché was right, for my appointment, which took place during the night,
      had not been legally announced. Be that as it may, on his refusal to
      surrender, one of my agents applied to the staff of the National Guard,
      requesting the support, in case of need, of an armed force. General
      Dessolles repaired to the Tuileries to take the King's orders on the
      subject. Meanwhile Fouché, who never lost his self-possession, after
      talking to the police officers who remained with him, pretended to step
      aside for some indispensable purpose, but the door which he opened led
      into a dark passage through which he slipped, leaving my unfortunate
      agents groping about in the obscurity. As for himself, he speedily gained
      the Rue Taitbout, where he stepped into a coach, and drove off. This is
      the whole history of the notable arrest of Fouché.
    
The next day, my agents went to the Duke of Otranto's hotel on Rue d'Artois. When they showed their warrant, Fouché said, "What does this mean? Your warrant is useless; it's just waste paper. It claims to come from the Prefect of Police, but there is no such Prefect." I believe Fouché was correct since my appointment, which happened during the night, hadn't been legally announced. Regardless, when he refused to comply, one of my agents asked the National Guard for backup in case it was needed. General Dessolles went to the Tuileries to get the King's orders on the matter. In the meantime, Fouché, who always kept his cool, talked to the police officers who stayed with him, then pretended to step aside for an important reason. However, the door he opened led to a dark passage where he slipped away, leaving my unfortunate agents stumbling around in the dark. As for him, he quickly made his way to Rue Taitbout, where he got into a carriage and drove off. This is the complete story of the notable arrest of Fouché.







      As for Davoust, I felt my hands tied with respect to him. I do not mean to
      affect generosity, for I acknowledge the enmity I bore him; but I did not
      wish it to be supposed that I was acting towards him from a spirit of
      personal vengeance. I therefore merely ordered him to be watched. The
      other twenty-three were to me in this matter as if they had never existed;
      and some of them, perhaps, will only learn in reading my Memoirs what
      dangerous characters they were thought to be.
    
As for Davoust, I felt completely restricted when it came to him. I’m not trying to seem magnanimous; I admit I didn’t like him. However, I didn’t want anyone to think I was dealing with him out of personal revenge. So, I simply ordered that he be monitored. The other twenty-three were to me as if they had never been there; some of them might only find out from reading my Memoirs how dangerous they were believed to be.







      On the 15th of March, after the conversation which, as I have already
      related, I had with Louis XVIII, I went to M. de Blacas and repeated to
      him what I had stated to the King on the certainty of Bonaparte's speedy
      arrival in Paris. I told him that I found it necessary to devote the short
      time still in our power to prevent a reaction against the Royalists, and
      to preserve public tranquillity until the departure of the Royal family,
      and that I would protect the departure of all persons who had reasons for
      withdrawing themselves from the scene of the great and perhaps disastrous
      events that might ensue. "You may readily believe, Count," added I, "that
      considering the great interests with which I am entrusted, I am not
      inclined to lose valuable time in arresting the persons of whose names I
      have received a list. The execution of such a measure would be useless; it
      would lead to nothing, or rather it would serve to irritate public
      feeling. My conviction of this fact has banished from me all idea of
      keeping under restraint for four or five days persons whose influence,
      whether real or supposed, is nil, since Bonaparte is at Auxerre. Mere
      supervision appears to me sufficient, and to that I propose confining
      myself."—"The King," replied M. de Blacas, "relies on you. He knows
      that though only forty-eight hours have elapsed since you entered upon
      your functions, you have already rendered greater services than you are
      perhaps aware of." I then asked M. de Blacas whether he had not received
      any intimation of Bonaparte's intended departure from the island of Elba
      by letters or by secret agents. "The only positive information we
      received," answered the Minister, "was an intercepted letter, dated Elba,
      6th February. It was addressed to M. ——-, near Grenoble. I
      will show it you." M. de Blacas opened a drawer of his writing-table and
      took out the letter, which he gave to me. The writer thanked his
      correspondent for the information he had transmitted to "the inhabitant of
      Elba." He was informed that everything was ready for departure, and that
      the first favourable opportunity would be seized, but that it would be
      desirable first to receive answers to some questions contained in the
      letter. These questions related to the regiments which had been sent into
      the south, and the places of their cantonment. It was inquired whether the
      choice of the commanders was conformable to what had been agreed on in
      Paris, and whether Labedoyere was at his post. The letter was rather long
      and it impressed me by the way in which the plan of a landing on the coast
      of Provence was discussed. Precise answers were requested on all these
      points. On returning the letter to M. de Blacas I remarked that the
      contents of the letter called for the adoption of some decided measures,
      and I asked him what had been done. He answered, "I immediately sent a
      copy of the letter to M. d'Andre, that he might give orders for arresting
      the individual to whom it was addressed."
    
On March 15th, after the conversation I already mentioned having with Louis XVIII, I went to M. de Blacas and told him what I had informed the King about Bonaparte's imminent arrival in Paris. I expressed that we needed to use the little time we had left to prevent backlash against the Royalists and maintain public peace until the Royal family could leave. I assured him that I would ensure the safe departure of anyone who wanted to remove themselves from the chaos and potential disaster that might follow. "You can believe me, Count," I added, "that given the significant responsibilities I have, I’m not looking to waste time capturing those on the list I received. Such action would be pointless; it wouldn’t achieve anything, and would likely just annoy the public. This has convinced me that I shouldn’t detain individuals for four or five days whose influence is minimal, especially since Bonaparte is at Auxerre. Simple oversight seems adequate, and that’s all I plan to do." —"The King," replied M. de Blacas, "places his trust in you. He is aware that even though it's only been forty-eight hours since you took on your role, you have already provided more help than you might realize." I then asked M. de Blacas if he had received any hints about Bonaparte’s planned departure from Elba through letters or secret agents. "The only solid information we have," the Minister replied, "was an intercepted letter dated February 6th from Elba. It was addressed to M. ———, near Grenoble. I'll show it to you." M. de Blacas opened a drawer in his desk and handed me the letter. The writer thanked his contact for the information sent to "the resident of Elba." He noted that everything was ready for departure and that the first good chance would be taken, but it was best to first get answers to some questions in the letter. These questions were about the regiments that had been sent south and their stationed locations. It inquired whether the choice of commanders matched what had been agreed upon in Paris and whether Labedoyere was on his post. The letter was quite lengthy and stood out to me for the way it detailed plans for landing on the coast of Provence. Specific answers were requested on all these issues. After returning the letter to M. de Blacas, I noted that the letter's contents called for some decisive action, and I asked him what had been done. He replied, "I immediately sent a copy of the letter to M. d'Andre so he could order the arrest of the person it was addressed to."







      Having had the opportunity of closely observing the machinery of a
      vigilant and active Government, I was, I must confess, not a little amazed
      at the insufficiency of the measures adopted to defeat this well-planned
      conspiracy. When M. de Blacas informed me of all that had been done, I
      could not repress an exclamation of surprise. "Well," said he, "and what
      would you have done?"—"In the first place I would not have lost
      twenty-four hours, which were an age in such a crisis." I then explained
      the plan I would have adopted. A quarter of an hour after the receipt of
      the letter I would have sent trustworthy men to Grenoble, and above all
      things I would have taken care not to let the matter fall into the hands
      of the police. Having obtained all information from the correspondent at
      Grenoble, I would have made him write a letter to his correspondent at
      Elba to quiet the eagerness of Napoleon, telling him that the movement of
      troops he spoke of had not been made, that it would take eight days to
      carry it out, and that it was necessary to the success of the enterprise
      to delay the embarkation for some days. While Bonaparte was thus delayed I
      would have sent to the coast of Provence a sufficient body of men devoted
      to the Royal cause, sending off in another direction the regiments whose
      chiefs were gained over by Napoleon, as the correspondence should reveal
      their names. "You are perhaps right, sir," said M. de Blacas, "but what
      could I do? I am new here. I had not the control of the police, and I
      trusted to M. d'Andre."—"Well," said I, "Bonaparte will be here on
      the 20th of March." With these words I parted from M. de Blacas. I
      remarked a great change in him. He had already lost a vast deal of that
      hauteur of favouritism which made him so much disliked.
    
Having had the chance to closely observe the workings of a watchful and active government, I must admit I was somewhat shocked by how inadequate the measures were to thwart this well-planned conspiracy. When M. de Blacas told me everything that had been done, I couldn't help but exclaim in surprise. "Well," he said, "what would you have done?"—"First of all, I wouldn't have wasted twenty-four hours, which felt like an eternity in a crisis like this." I then outlined the plan I would have taken. A quarter of an hour after receiving the letter, I would have sent reliable people to Grenoble, and above all, I would have made sure that the matter didn't get into the hands of the police. After gathering intel from the contact in Grenoble, I would have asked him to write a letter to his contact in Elba to calm Napoleon's impatience, telling him that the troop movement he mentioned hadn’t happened yet, that it would take eight days to carry out, and that to ensure the success of the operation, they needed to delay the embarkation for a few days. While Bonaparte was held up, I would have sent a strong contingent of supporters of the Royal cause to the coast of Provence, redirecting the regiments whose leaders had allied with Napoleon, as the correspondence would reveal their names. "You might be right, sir," M. de Blacas said, "but what could I do? I'm new here. I didn’t have control over the police, and I relied on M. d'Andre."—"Well," I said, "Bonaparte will be here on the 20th of March." With those words, I took my leave from M. de Blacas. I noticed a significant change in him. He had already lost much of the arrogance that made him so unpopular.







      When I entered upon my duties in the Prefecture of Police the evil was
      already past remedy. The incorrigible emigres required another lesson, and
      the temporary resurrection of the Empire was inevitable. But, if Bonaparte
      was recalled, it was not owing to any attachment to him personally; it was
      not from any fidelity to the recollections of the Empire. It was resolved
      at any price to get rid of those imbecile councillors, who thought they
      might treat France like a country conquered by the emigrants. The people
      determined to free themselves from a Government which seemed resolved to
      trample on all that was dear to France. In this state of things some
      looked upon Bonaparte as a liberator, but the greater number regarded him
      as an instrument. In this last character he was viewed by the old
      Republicans, and by a new generation, who thought they caught a glimpse of
      liberty in promises, and Who were blind enough to believe that the idol of
      France would be restored by Napoleon.
    
When I started my job at the Prefecture of Police, the damage was already done. The stubborn emigres needed another lesson, and the temporary revival of the Empire was unavoidable. However, Bonaparte's return was not due to any personal loyalty to him or a commitment to the memories of the Empire. It was decided at any cost to get rid of those foolish advisors who thought they could treat France like a territory taken over by the emigrants. The people wanted to liberate themselves from a government that seemed determined to stomp out everything that mattered to France. In this situation, some saw Bonaparte as a liberator, but most viewed him as a tool. The old Republicans and a new generation saw him in this way, thinking they could see a glimpse of freedom in promises, and they were naive enough to believe that Napoleon would restore the idol of France.







      In February 1815, while everything was preparing at Elba for the
      approaching departure of Napoleon, Murat applied to the Court of Vienna
      for leave to march through the Austrian Provinces of Upper Italy an army
      directed on France. It was on the 26th of the same month that Bonaparte
      escaped from Elba. These two facts were necessarily connected together,
      for, in spite of Murat's extravagant ideas, he never could have
      entertained the expectation of obliging the King of France, by the mere
      force of arms, to acknowledge his continued possession of the throne of
      Naples. Since the return of Louis XVIII. the Cabinet of the Tuileries had
      never regarded Murat in any other light than as a usurper, and I know from
      good authority that the French Plenipotentiaries at the Congress of Vienna
      were especially instructed to insist that the restoration of the throne of
      Naples in favour of the Bourbons of the Two Sicilies should be a
      consequence of the restoration of the throne of France. I also know that
      the proposition was firmly opposed on the part of Austria, who had always
      viewed with jealousy the occupation of three thrones of Europe by the
      single House of Bourbon.
    
In February 1815, while preparations were underway at Elba for Napoleon's upcoming departure, Murat sought permission from the Court of Vienna to march an army through the Austrian Provinces of Upper Italy towards France. It was on the 26th of that same month that Bonaparte escaped from Elba. These two events were clearly linked, because despite Murat's grand ambitions, he could never realistically expect to force the King of France to recognize his claim to the throne of Naples by mere military might. Since Louis XVIII's return, the Cabinet of the Tuileries had viewed Murat solely as a usurper, and I know from reliable sources that the French delegates at the Congress of Vienna were specifically instructed to advocate that the restoration of the Neapolitan throne for the Bourbons of the Two Sicilies should follow the restoration of the French throne. I also understand that Austria strongly opposed this proposal, as they had always been wary of a single Bourbon family occupying three European thrones.







      According to information, for the authenticity of which I can vouch, the
      following were the plans which Napoleon conceived at Elba. Almost
      immediately after his arrival in France he was to order the Marshals on
      whom he could best rely to defend to the utmost the entrances to the
      French territory and the approaches to Paris, by pivoting on the triple
      line of fortresses which gird the north and east of France. Davoust was
      'in petto' singled out for the defence of Paris. He, was to arm the
      inhabitants of the suburbs, and to have, besides, 20,000 men of the
      National Guard at his disposal. Napoleon, not being aware of the situation
      of the Allies, never supposed that they could concentrate their forces and
      march against him so speedily as they did. He hoped to take them by
      surprise, and defeat their projects, by making Murat march upon Milan, and
      by stirring up insurrections in Italy. The Po being once crossed, and
      Murat approaching the capital of Lombardy, Napoleon with the corps of
      Suchet, Brune, Grouchy, and Massena, augmented by troops sent, by forced
      marches, to Lyons, was to cross the Alps and revolutionise Piedmont.
      There, having recruited his army and joined the Neapolitans in Milan, he
      was to proclaim the independence of Italy, unite the whole country under a
      single chief, and then march at the head of 100,000 men on Vienna, by the
      Julian Alps, across which victory had conducted him in 1797. This was not
      all: numerous emissaries scattered through Poland and Hungary were to
      foment discord and raise the cry of liberty and independence, to alarm
      Russia and Austria. It must be confessed it would have been an
      extraordinary spectacle to see Napoleon giving liberty to Europe in
      revenge for not having succeeded in enslaving her.
    
According to information I can confirm as reliable, these were the plans Napoleon devised at Elba. Almost immediately after he got back to France, he intended to instruct the Marshals he trusted most to defend the entrances to French territory and the routes to Paris, focusing on the triple line of fortresses surrounding the north and east of France. Davoust was specifically chosen to defend Paris. He was to arm the people in the suburbs and also have 20,000 men from the National Guard at his command. Unaware of the Allies’ situation, Napoleon never imagined they could gather their forces and march against him as quickly as they did. He hoped to catch them off guard and thwart their plans by having Murat head towards Milan and inciting uprisings in Italy. Once the Po River was crossed and Murat was nearing the capital of Lombardy, Napoleon, with the corps of Suchet, Brune, Grouchy, and Massena, reinforced by troops rushed from Lyons, would cross the Alps and spark a revolution in Piedmont. There, after boosting his army and joining forces with the Neapolitans in Milan, he would declare Italy's independence, unite the entire country under a single leader, and then march at the head of 100,000 men towards Vienna, through the Julian Alps, the same route that had led him to victory in 1797. But that wasn’t all: numerous agents spread throughout Poland and Hungary were to stir up discord and shout for liberty and independence, aiming to worry Russia and Austria. It's worth noting it would have been an extraordinary sight to see Napoleon granting freedom to Europe as revenge for not having succeeded in enslaving it.







      By means of these bold manoeuvres and vast combinations Napoleon
      calculated that he would have the advantage of the initiative in military
      operations. Perhaps his genius was never more fully developed than in this
      vast conception. According to this plan he was to extend his operations
      over a line of 500 leagues, from Ostend to Vienna, by the Alps and Italy,
      to provide himself with immense resources of every kind, to prevent the
      Emperor of Austria from marching his troops against France, and probably
      force him to terminate a war from which the hereditary provinces would
      have exclusively suffered. Such was the bright prospect which presented
      itself to Napoleon when he stepped on board the vessel which was to convey
      him from Elba to France. But the mad precipitation of Murat put Europe on
      the alert, and the brilliant illusion vanished like a dream.
    
Through these bold moves and extensive strategies, Napoleon believed he would gain the upper hand in military actions. Perhaps his brilliance was never more evident than in this grand plan. He intended to stretch his operations over a distance of 500 leagues, from Ostend to Vienna, passing through the Alps and Italy, to secure a vast array of resources, to stop the Emperor of Austria from deploying his troops against France, and possibly to force him to end a war that would solely impact the hereditary provinces. This was the promising vision Napoleon envisioned as he boarded the ship that would take him from Elba to France. However, Murat's reckless speed put Europe on high alert, and that brilliant illusion disappeared like a fleeting dream.







      After being assured that all was tranquil, and that the Royal family was
      secure against every danger, I myself set out at four o'clock on the
      morning of the 20th of March, taking the road to Lille.—Nothing
      extraordinary occurred until I arrived at the post-office of Fins, in
      front of which were drawn up a great number of carriages, which had
      arrived before mine, and the owners of which, like myself, were
      impatiently waiting for horses. I soon observed that some one called the
      postmaster aside in a way which did not appear entirely devoid of mystery,
      and I acknowledge I felt some degree of alarm. I was in the room in which
      the travellers were waiting, and my attention was attracted by a large
      bill fixed against the wall. It was printed in French and Russian, and it
      proved to be the order of the day which I had been fortunate enough to
      obtain from the Emperor Alexander to exempt posthorses, etc., from the
      requisitions of the Allied troops.
    
After being reassured that everything was calm and that the Royal family was safe from all dangers, I set out at four o'clock on the morning of March 20th, taking the route to Lille. Nothing unusual happened until I reached the post office in Fins, where numerous carriages were lined up, having arrived before mine, and their owners, like me, were impatiently waiting for horses. I soon noticed someone pulling the postmaster aside in a way that seemed a bit mysterious, and I admit I felt a little anxious. I was in the waiting room with the other travelers, and my attention was caught by a large notice fixed to the wall. It was printed in French and Russian, and it turned out to be the order of the day that I had been lucky enough to get from Emperor Alexander, which exempted posthorses, etc., from being taken by the Allied troops.







      I was standing looking at the bill when the postmaster came into the room
      and advanced towards me. "Sir," said he, "that is an order of the day
      which saved me from ruin."—"Then surely you would not harm the man
      by whom it is signed?"—"I know you, sir, I recognised you
      immediately. I saw you in Paris when you were Director of the Post-office,
      and you granted a just claim which I had upon you. I have now come to tell
      you that they are harnessing two horses to your calash, and you may set
      off at full speed." The worthy man had assigned to my use the only two
      horses at his disposal; his son performed the office of postilion, and I
      set off to the no small dissatisfaction of some of the travellers who had
      arrived before me, and who, perhaps, had as good reasons as I to avoid the
      presence of Napoleon.
    
I was standing there looking at the bill when the postmaster walked into the room and approached me. "Sir," he said, "that is a day’s order that saved me from ruin."—"Then surely you wouldn't harm the man who signed it?"—"I know you, sir; I recognized you right away. I saw you in Paris when you were Director of the Post Office, and you honored a fair claim I had against you. I've come to tell you that they are harnessing two horses to your carriage, so you can set off at full speed." The kind man had assigned me the only two horses he had available; his son acted as the postilion, and I took off, much to the annoyance of some travelers who had arrived before me and who, perhaps, had just as good reasons as I did to avoid encountering Napoleon.







      We arrived at Lille at eleven o'clock on the night of the 21st. Here I
      encountered another vexation, though not of an alarming kind. The gates of
      the town were closed, and I was obliged to content myself with a miserable
      night's lodging in the suburb.
    
We got to Lille at eleven o'clock on the night of the 21st. Here, I faced another annoyance, although it wasn't too serious. The town gates were locked, and I had to settle for a shabby night's stay in the suburbs.







      I entered Lille on the 22d, and Louis XVIII. arrived on the 23d. His
      Majesty also found the gates closed, and more than an hour elapsed before
      an order could be obtained for opening them, for the Duke of Orleans, who
      commanded the town, was inspecting the troops when his Majesty arrived.
      The King was perfectly well received at Lille. There indeed appeared some
      symptoms of defection, but it must be acknowledged that the officers of
      the old army had been so singularly sacrificed to the promotion of the
      returned emigrants that it was very natural the former should hail the
      return of the man who had so often led them to victory. I put up at the
      Hotel de Grand, certainly without forming any prognostic respecting the
      future residence of the King. When I saw his Majesty's retinue I went down
      and stood at the door of the hotel, where as soon as Louis XVIII.
      perceived me he distinguished me from among all the persons who were
      awaiting his arrival, and holding out his hand for me to kiss he said,
      "Follow me, M. de Bourrienne."
    
I entered Lille on the 22nd, and Louis XVIII arrived on the 23rd. His Majesty also found the gates closed, and it took more than an hour to get an order to open them since the Duke of Orleans, who was in charge of the town, was inspecting the troops when His Majesty arrived. The King was welcomed warmly in Lille. There were indeed some signs of dissent, but it must be noted that the officers of the old army had been so uniquely sidelined for the benefit of the returning émigrés that it was completely understandable for them to celebrate the return of the man who had often led them to victory. I stayed at the Hotel de Grand, definitely without any predictions about the King's future residence. When I saw His Majesty's entourage, I went downstairs and stood at the door of the hotel. As soon as Louis XVIII noticed me, he recognized me among all the people waiting for his arrival, and extending his hand for me to kiss, he said, "Follow me, M. de Bourrienne."







      On entering the apartments prepared for him the King expressed to me his
      approval of my conduct since the Restoration, and especially during the
      short interval in which I had discharged the functions of Prefect of the
      Police. He did me the honour to invite me to breakfast with him. The
      conversation naturally turned on the events of the day, of which every one
      present spoke according to his hopes or fears. Observing that Louis XVIII.
      concurred in Berthier's discouraging view of affairs, I ventured to repeat
      what I had already said at the Tuileries, that, judging from the
      disposition of the sovereigns of Europe and the information which I had
      received, it appeared very probable that his Majesty would be again seated
      on his throne in three months. Berthier bit his nails as he did when he
      wanted to leave the army of Egypt and return to Paris to the object of his
      adoration. Berthier was not hopeful; he was always one of those men who
      have the least confidence and the most depression. I could perceive that
      the King regarded my observation as one of those compliments which he was
      accustomed to receive, and that he had no great confidence in the
      fulfilment of my prediction. However, wishing to seem to believe it, he
      said, what he had more than hinted before, "M. de Bourrienne, as long as I
      am King you shall be my Prefect of the Police."
    
Upon entering the rooms that had been prepared for him, the King expressed his approval of my actions since the Restoration, particularly during the brief time I served as Prefect of Police. He honored me by inviting me to breakfast with him. The conversation naturally shifted to the events of the day, with everyone present sharing their hopes and fears. Noticing that Louis XVIII agreed with Berthier's gloomy outlook, I took the chance to repeat what I had already mentioned at the Tuileries: based on the attitudes of the European monarchs and the information I had received, it seemed quite likely that his Majesty would be back on his throne within three months. Berthier nervously bit his nails, much like when he wanted to leave the army in Egypt to return to the object of his affection. He wasn't very optimistic; he was always one of those people filled with doubt and gloom. I could tell the King saw my remark as one of the compliments he was used to receiving, and he didn't really believe in the possibility of my prediction coming true. However, wanting to appear positive about it, he said—something he had hinted at before—"M. de Bourrienne, as long as I am King, you will be my Prefect of Police."







      It was the decided intention of Louis XVIII. to remain in France as long
      as he could, but the Napoleonic fever, which spread like an epidemic among
      the troops, had infected the garrison of Lille. Marshal Mortier, who
      commanded at Lille, and the Duke of Orleans, expressed to me their
      well-founded fears, and repeatedly recommended me to urge the King to quit
      Lille speedily, in order to avoid any fatal occurrence. During the two
      days I passed with his Majesty I entreated him to yield to the imperious
      circumstances in which he was placed. At length the King, with deep
      regret, consented to go, and I left Lille the day before that fixed for
      his Majesty's departure.
    
Louis XVIII had every intention of staying in France as long as possible, but the Napoleonic enthusiasm was spreading like wildfire among the troops and had even reached the garrison in Lille. Marshal Mortier, who was in charge in Lille, and the Duke of Orleans shared their serious concerns with me and repeatedly advised me to urge the King to leave Lille quickly to avoid any disastrous situation. During the two days I spent with His Majesty, I begged him to accept the urgent circumstances he was in. Finally, the King, with great regret, agreed to leave, and I departed Lille the day before His Majesty's planned departure.







      In September 1814 the King had appointed me charge d'affaires from France
      to Hamburg, but not having received orders to repair to my post I have not
      hitherto mentioned this nomination. However, when Louis XVIII. was on the
      point of leaving France he thought that my presence in Hamburg might be
      useful for the purpose of making him acquainted with all that might
      interest him in the north of Germany. But it was not there that danger was
      to be apprehended. There were two points to be watched—the
      headquarters of Napoleon and the King's Council at Ghent. I, however, lost
      no time in repairing to a city where I was sure of finding a great many
      friends. On passing through Brussels I alighted at the Hotel de Bellevue,
      where the Duc de Berri arrived shortly after me. His Royal Highness then
      invited me to breakfast with him, and conversed with me very
      confidentially. I afterwards continued my journey.
    
In September 1814, the King appointed me as the charge d'affaires from France to Hamburg, but since I hadn't received orders to head to my post, I hadn't mentioned this appointment until now. However, when Louis XVIII was about to leave France, he thought my presence in Hamburg could be useful for keeping him updated on anything of interest in northern Germany. But that’s not where the real danger was. There were two key areas to keep an eye on—the headquarters of Napoleon and the King’s Council in Ghent. Still, I wasted no time getting to a city where I was sure to find many friends. While passing through Brussels, I stopped at the Hotel de Bellevue, where the Duc de Berri arrived shortly after me. His Royal Highness then invited me to have breakfast with him and spoke with me very confidentially. After that, I continued my journey.








 


 




















      CHAPTER VI.
    



      1815.
    
1815.


   Message to Madame de Bourrienne on the 20th of March—Napoleon's
   nocturnal entrance into Paris—General Becton sent to my family by
   Caulaincourt—Recollection of old persecutions—General Driesen—
   Solution of an enigma—Seals placed on my effects—Useless searches
   —Persecution of women—Madame de Stael and Madame de Recamier—
   Paris during the Hundred Days—The federates and patriotic songs—
   Declaration of the Plenipotentiaries at Vienna.

   Message to Madame de Bourrienne on March 20th—Napoleon's late-night return to Paris—General Becton sent to my family by Caulaincourt—Memories of past persecutions—General Driesen—Solving a mystery—Seals placed on my belongings—Pointless searches—Harassment of women—Madame de Stael and Madame de Recamier—Paris during the Hundred Days—The federates and patriotic songs—Declaration of the Plenipotentiaries in Vienna.







      At Lille, and again at Hamburg, I received letters from my family, which I
      had looked for with great impatience. They contained particulars of what
      had occurred relative to me since Bonaparte's return to Paris. Two hours
      after my departure Madame de Bourrienne also left Paris, accompanied by
      her children, and proceeded to an asylum which had been offered her seven
      leagues from the capital. She left at my house in Paris her sister, two of
      her brothers, and her friend the Comtesse de Neuilly, who had resided with
      us since her return from the emigration.
    
At Lille, and again at Hamburg, I received letters from my family that I had been eagerly waiting for. They included details about what had happened regarding me since Bonaparte's return to Paris. Two hours after I left, Madame de Bourrienne also left Paris, taking her children with her, and went to a refuge that had been offered to her seven leagues from the capital. She left her sister, two of her brothers, and her friend the Comtesse de Neuilly at my house in Paris, who had been staying with us since her return from emigration.







      On the very morning of my wife's departure (namely, the 20th of March) a
      person, with whom I had always been on terms of friendship, and who was
      entirely devoted to Bonaparte, sent to request that Madame de Bourrienne
      would call on him, as he wished to speak to her on most important and
      urgent business. My sister-in-law informed the messenger that my wife had
      left Paris, but, begging a friend to accompany her, she went herself to
      the individual, whose name will be probably guessed, though I do not
      mention it. The person who came with the message to my house put many
      questions to Madame de Bourrienne's sister respecting my absence, and
      advised her, above all things, to conjure me not to follow the King,
      observing that the cause of Louis XVIII. was utterly lost, and that I
      should do well to retire quietly to Burgundy, as there was no doubt of my
      obtaining the Emperor's pardon.
    
On the very morning my wife was leaving (March 20th), a person I had always considered a friend and who was fully loyal to Bonaparte sent a request for Madame de Bourrienne to visit him because he wanted to discuss something very important and urgent. My sister-in-law told the messenger that my wife had already left Paris, but she asked a friend to go with her and went to see this person herself, whose name you might guess even though I won’t mention it. The messenger who came to my house asked many questions about my absence and urged her to convince me not to follow the King, pointing out that Louis XVIII's cause was completely lost and that I should quietly retreat to Burgundy, as I was sure to receive the Emperor's pardon.







      Nothing could be more gloomy than Bonaparte's entrance into Paris. He
      arrived at night in the midst of a thick fog. The streets were almost
      deserted, and a vague feeling of terror prevailed almost generally in the
      capital.
    
Nothing could be more somber than Bonaparte's arrival in Paris. He came at night during a thick fog. The streets were nearly empty, and a general sense of dread hung over the capital.







      At nine o'clock on the same evening, the very hour of Bonaparte's arrival
      at the Tuileries, a lady, a friend, of my family, and whose son served in
      the Young Guard, called and requested to see Madame de Bourrienne. She
      refused to enter the house lest she should be seen, and my sister-in-law
      went down to the garden to speak to her without a light. This lady's
      brother had been on the preceding night to Fontainebleau to see Bonaparte,
      and he had directed his sister to desire me to remain in Paris, and to
      retain my post in the Prefecture of the Police, as I was sure of a full
      and complete pardon.
    
At nine o'clock that evening, the exact moment Bonaparte arrived at the Tuileries, a lady, a family friend whose son was in the Young Guard, came over and asked to see Madame de Bourrienne. She wouldn't go into the house for fear of being seen, so my sister-in-law went down to the garden to talk to her in the dark. This lady's brother had been to Fontainebleau the night before to see Bonaparte, and he had told her to ask me to stay in Paris and keep my job at the Prefecture of Police, as I was promised a full pardon.







      On the morning of the 21st General Becton, who has since been the victim
      of his mad enterprises, called at my house and requested to speak with me
      and Madame de Bourrienne. He was received by my wife's sister and
      brothers, and stated that he came from M. de Caulaincourt to renew the
      assurances of safety which had already been given to me. I was, I confess,
      very sensible of these proofs of friendship when they came to my
      knowledge, but I did not for a single moment repent the course I adopted.
      I could not forget the intrigues of which I had been the object since
      1811, nor the continual threats of arrest which, during that year, had not
      left me a moment's quiet; and since I now revert to that time, I may take
      the opportunity of explaining how in 1814 I was made acquainted with the
      real causes of the persecution to which I had been a prey. A person, whose
      name prudence forbids me mentioning, communicated to me the following
      letter, the original copy of which is in my possession:
    
On the morning of the 21st, General Becton, who has since been affected by his reckless actions, stopped by my house and asked to speak with me and Madame de Bourrienne. He was welcomed by my wife's sister and brothers and mentioned that he came from M. de Caulaincourt to reaffirm the reassurances of safety that had already been provided to me. I must admit, I was quite appreciative of these signs of friendship when I learned about them, but I never regretted the path I chose. I couldn't forget the schemes I had been subjected to since 1811, nor the constant threats of arrest that had kept me on edge throughout that year; and as I reflect on that period now, I want to take the chance to explain how in 1814 I found out the real reasons behind the persecution I had endured. A person, whose name I can't mention for safety reasons, shared with me the following letter, the original of which I still have:






   MONSIEUR LE DUC DE BASSANO—I send you some very important documents
   respecting the Sieur Bourrienne, and beg you will make me a
   confidential report on this affair. Keep these documents for
   yourself alone. This business demands the utmost secrecy.
   Everything induces me to believe that Bourrienne has carried a
   series of intrigues with London. Bring me the report on Thursday.
   I pray God, etc.
                  (Signed) NAPOLEON
   PARIS, 25th December 1811.

   MONSIEUR LE DUC DE BASSANO—I'm sending you some very important documents regarding Sieur Bourrienne, and I kindly ask you to prepare a confidential report on this matter. Please keep these documents to yourself. This situation requires complete discretion. Everything leads me to suspect that Bourrienne has been involved in several intrigues with London. Please bring me the report by Thursday. I pray God, etc.
                  (Signed) NAPOLEON
   PARIS, 25th December 1811.







      I could now clearly perceive what to me had hitherto been enveloped in
      obscurity; but I was not, as yet, made acquainted with the documents
      mentioned in Napoleon's epistle. Still, however, the cause of his
      animosity was an enigma which I was unable to guess, but I obtained its
      solution some time afterwards.
    
I could now clearly see what had previously been a mystery to me; however, I still wasn't aware of the documents mentioned in Napoleon's letter. Still, the reason for his anger was a puzzle I couldn’t figure out, but I found out the answer a while later.







      General Driesen, who was the Governor of Mittau while Louis XVIII. resided
      in that town, came to Paris in 1814. I had been well acquainted with him
      in 1810 at Hamburg, where he lived for a considerable time. While at
      Mittau he conceived a chivalrous and enthusiastic friendship for the King
      of France. We were at first distrustful of each other, but afterwards the
      most intimate confidence arose between us. General Driesen looked forward
      with certainty to the return of the Bourbons to France, and in the course
      of our frequent conversations on his favourite theme he gradually threw
      off all reserve, and at length disclosed to me that he was maintaining a
      correspondence with the King.
    
General Driesen, who was the Governor of Mittau while Louis XVIII was living in that town, came to Paris in 1814. I had known him well in 1810 in Hamburg, where he stayed for quite a while. During his time in Mittau, he developed a chivalrous and enthusiastic friendship for the King of France. We were initially wary of each other, but eventually, a close bond formed between us. General Driesen was confident about the return of the Bourbons to France, and during our many discussions on his favorite topic, he gradually became more open and eventually revealed that he was maintaining correspondence with the King.







      He told me that he had sent to Hartwell several drafts of proclamations,
      with none of which, he said, the King was satisfied. On allowing me the
      copy of the last of these drafts I frankly told him that I was quite of
      the King's opinion as to its unfitness. I observed that if the King should
      one day return to France and act as the general advised he would not keep
      possession of his throne six months. Driesen then requested me to dictate
      a draft of a proclamation conformably with my ideas. This I consented to
      do on one condition, viz. that he would never mention my name in
      connection with the business, either in writing or conversation. General
      Driesen promised this, and then I dictated to him a draft which I would
      now candidly lay before the reader if I had a copy of it. I may add that
      in the different proclamations of Louis XVIII. I remarked several passages
      precisely corresponding with the draft I had dictated at Hamburg.
    
He told me that he had sent several drafts of proclamations to Hartwell, none of which, he said, the King was happy with. When he let me see the latest draft, I honestly told him that I agreed with the King about its unsuitability. I pointed out that if the King ever returned to France and followed the general's advice, he wouldn't hold on to his throne for six months. Driesen then asked me to dictate a draft of a proclamation in line with my ideas. I agreed to do this on one condition: that he would never mention my name in relation to the matter, either in writing or conversation. General Driesen promised this, and then I dictated a draft to him that I would share with the reader now if I had a copy of it. I should also note that in the different proclamations of Louis XVIII, I noticed several passages that matched exactly with the draft I dictated in Hamburg.







      During the four years which intervened between my return to Paris and the
      downfall of the Empire it several times occurred to me that General
      Driesen had betrayed my secret, and on his very first visit to me after
      the Restoration, our conversation happening to turn on Hamburg, I asked
      him whether he had not disclosed what I wished him to conceal? "Well,"
      said he, "there is no harm in telling the truth now. After you had left
      Hamburg the King wrote to me inquiring the name of the author of the last
      draft I had sent him, which was very different from all that had preceded
      it. I did not answer this question, but the King having repeated it in a
      second letter, and having demanded an answer, I was compelled to break my
      promise to you, and I put into the post-office of Gothenberg in Sweden a
      letter for the King, in which I mentioned your name."
    
During the four years between my return to Paris and the fall of the Empire, I often wondered if General Driesen had revealed my secret. On his very first visit after the Restoration, while we were talking about Hamburg, I asked him if he had disclosed what I wanted him to keep quiet. "Well," he replied, "there’s no harm in telling the truth now. After you left Hamburg, the King wrote to me asking for the name of the author of the last draft I sent him, which was quite different from all the previous ones. I didn't answer at first, but when the King asked again in a follow-up letter and insisted on a response, I had to break my promise to you. So, I mailed a letter for the King from Gothenburg in Sweden, in which I mentioned your name."







      The mystery was now revealed to me. I clearly saw what had excited in
      Napoleon's mind the suspicion that I was carrying on intrigues with
      England. I have no doubt as to the way in which the affair came to his
      knowledge. The King must have disclosed my name to one of those persons
      whose situations placed them above the suspicion of any betrayal of
      confidence, and thus the circumstance must have reached the ear of
      Bonaparte. This is not a mere hypothesis, for I well know how promptly and
      faithfully Napoleon was informed of all that was said and done at
      Hartwell.
    
The mystery is now clear to me. I can see exactly what made Napoleon suspicious that I was involved in schemes with England. I have no doubt about how he found out. The King must have mentioned my name to someone whose position made them unlikely to betray any trust, and that’s how the information got to Bonaparte. This isn’t just a guess, as I know how quickly and accurately Napoleon was updated on everything happening at Hartwell.







      Having shown General Driesen Napoleon's accusatory letter, he begged that
      I would entrust him with it for a day or two, saying he would show it to
      the King at a private audience. His object was to serve me, and to excite
      Louis XVIII.'s interest in my behalf, by briefly relating to him the whole
      affair. The general came to me on leaving the Tuileries, and assured me
      that the King after perusing the letter, had the great kindness to observe
      that I might think myself very happy in not having been shot. I know not
      whether Napoleon was afterwards informed of the details of this affair,
      which certainly had no connection with any intrigues with England, and
      which, after all, would have been a mere peccadillo in comparison with the
      conduct I thought it my duty to adopt at the time of the Restoration.
    
After showing General Driesen Napoleon's accusatory letter, he asked if I could lend it to him for a day or two, saying he would present it to the King in a private audience. His goal was to help me and spark Louis XVIII's interest in my situation by briefly explaining the whole affair to him. The general visited me after leaving the Tuileries and assured me that the King, after reading the letter, kindly noted that I should consider myself very lucky for not having been shot. I don’t know if Napoleon was later informed about the details of this situation, which certainly had no ties to any schemes with England, and which, in the grand scheme of things, would have been a minor issue compared to the actions I felt were necessary during the Restoration.







      Meanwhile Madame de Bourrienne informed me by an express that seals were
      to be placed on the effects of all the persons included in the decree of
      Lyons, and consequently upon mine. As soon as my wife received information
      of this she quitted her retreat and repaired to Paris to face the storm.
      On the 29th of March, at nine in the evening, the police agents presented
      themselves at my house. Madame de Bourrienne remonstrated against the
      measure and the inconvenient hour that was chosen for its execution; but
      all was in vain, and there was no alternative but to submit.
    
Meanwhile, Madame de Bourrienne informed me through a messenger that seals were to be put on the belongings of everyone included in the decree from Lyons, including mine. As soon as my wife learned about this, she left her hideaway and went to Paris to confront the situation. On March 29th, at nine in the evening, the police agents showed up at my house. Madame de Bourrienne objected to the decision and the inconvenient time chosen for its implementation; however, it was all in vain, and we had no choice but to comply.







      But the matter did not end with the first formalities performed by
      Fouché's alguazils. During the month of May seven persons were appointed
      to examine, my papers, and among the inquisitorial septemvirate were two
      men well known and filling high situations. One of these executed his
      commission, but the other, sensible of the odium attached to it, wrote to
      say he was unwell, and never came. The number of my inquisitors, 'in
      domo', was thus reduced to six. They behaved with great rudeness, and
      executed their mission with a rigour and severity exceedingly painful to
      my family. They carried their search so far as to rummage the pockets of
      my old clothes, and even to unrip the linings. All this was done in the
      hope of finding something that would commit me in the eyes of the new
      master of France. But I was not to be caught in that way, and before
      leaving home I had taken such precautions as to set my mind perfectly at
      ease.
    
But the situation didn't end with the initial formalities conducted by Fouché's officers. During May, seven people were appointed to examine my papers, including two well-known men in high positions. One of them carried out his duty, but the other, aware of the negative perception it would bring, wrote to say he was sick and never showed up. This reduced the number of my interrogators, 'in domo', to six. They acted very rudely and carried out their mission with a level of rigor and severity that was extremely distressing for my family. They searched so thoroughly that they went through the pockets of my old clothes and even tore out the linings. All of this was done in hopes of finding something that would incriminate me in the eyes of the new ruler of France. But I wasn't going to be trapped like that; before leaving home, I had taken precautions that allowed me to feel completely at ease.







      However, those who had declared themselves strongly against Napoleon were
      not the only persons who had reason to be alarmed at his return. Women
      even, by a system of inquisition unworthy of the Emperor, but
      unfortunately quite in unison with his hatred of all liberty, were
      condemned to exile, and had cause to apprehend further severity. It is for
      the exclusive admirers of the Chief of the Empire to approve of everything
      which proceeded from him, even his rigour against a defenceless sex; it is
      for them to laugh at the misery of a woman, and a writer of genius,
      condemned without any form of trial to the most severe punishment short of
      death. For my part, I saw neither justice nor pleasantry in the exile of
      Madame de Chevreuse for having had the courage (and courage was not common
      then even among men) to say that she was not made to be the gaoler of the
      Queen of Spain. On Napoleon's return from. the isle of Elba, Madame de
      Stael was in a state of weakness, which rendered her unable to bear any
      sudden and violent emotion. This debilitated state of health had been
      produced by her flight from Coppet to Russia immediately after the birth
      of the son who was the fruit of her marriage with M. Rocca. In spite of
      the danger of a journey in such circumstances she saw greater danger in
      staying where she was, and she set out on her new exile. That exile was
      not of long duration, but Madame de Stael never recovered from the effect
      of the alarm and fatigue it occasioned her.
    
However, those who had strongly opposed Napoleon weren't the only ones who had reason to be worried about his return. Even women, through a form of scrutiny unworthy of the Emperor but unfortunately in line with his disdain for all freedom, were forced into exile and had cause to fear even harsher treatment. It's for the devoted supporters of the head of the Empire to approve of everything he did, including his harshness towards defenseless women; it's for them to mock the suffering of a woman, and a talented writer, who was condemned without any trial to the harshest punishment short of death. For my part, I saw neither justice nor humor in the exile of Madame de Chevreuse for having the courage (and courage was rare then, even among men) to say she was not meant to be the jailer of the Queen of Spain. When Napoleon returned from the island of Elba, Madame de Stael was in such a weakened state that she couldn’t handle any sudden or intense emotions. This weakened health was a result of her flight from Coppet to Russia right after giving birth to the son she had with M. Rocca. Despite the dangers of traveling under such conditions, she believed greater danger lay in staying where she was, so she set out on her new exile. That exile didn’t last long, but Madame de Stael never fully recovered from the shock and exhaustion it caused her.







      The name of the authoress of Corinne, naturally calls to mind that of the
      friend who was most faithful to her in misfortune, and who was not herself
      screened from the severity of Napoleon by the just and universal
      admiration of which she was the object. In 1815 Madame Recamier did not
      leave Paris, to which she had returned in 1814, though her exile was not
      revoked. I know positively that Hortense assured her of the pleasure she
      would feel in receiving her, and that Madame Recamier, as an excuse for
      declining the perilous honour, observed that she had determined never
      again to appear in the world as long as her friends should be persecuted.
      The memorial de Sainte Helene, referring to the origin of the ill-will of
      the Chief of the Empire towards the society of Madame de Stael and Madame
      Recamier, etc., seems to reproach Madame Recamier, "accustomed," says the
      Memorial, "to ask for everything and to obtain everything," for having
      claimed nothing less than the complete reinstatement of her father.
      Whatever may have been the pretensions of Madame Recamier, Bonaparte, not
      a little addicted to the custom he complains of in her, could not have,
      with a good grace, made a crime of her ingratitude if he on his side had
      not claimed a very different sentiment from gratitude. I was with the
      First Consul at the time M. Bernard, the father of Madame Reamier, was
      accused, and I have not forgotten on what conditions the re-establishment
      would have been granted.
    
The name of the author of Corinne naturally reminds us of the friend who was most loyal to her during tough times and who was not spared from Napoleon's criticism despite being widely admired. In 1815, Madame Récamier stayed in Paris, where she had returned in 1814, even though her exile wasn't lifted. I know for sure that Hortense expressed how happy she would be to welcome her, and that Madame Récamier, as a reason for declining this risky honor, said she had decided not to reenter society as long as her friends faced persecution. The Memoirs of Sainte-Hélène, discussing why the Emperor had ill feelings towards the society of Madame de Staël and Madame Récamier, seems to blame Madame Récamier for being "used to asking for everything and getting everything," for demanding nothing less than the complete reinstatement of her father. No matter what Madame Récamier's demands were, Bonaparte, who often criticized her behavior, could not reasonably accuse her of ingratitude if he himself sought a very different sentiment than gratitude. I was with the First Consul when M. Bernard, Madame Récamier's father, was accused, and I haven't forgotten the conditions under which his reinstatement would have been granted.







      The frequent interviews between Madame Recamier and Madame de Stael were
      not calculated to bring Napoleon to sentiments and measures of moderation.
      He became more and more irritated at this friendship between two women
      formed for each other's society; and, on the occasion of one of Madame
      Recamier's journeys to Coppet he informed her, through the medium of
      Fouché, that she was perfectly at liberty to go to Switzerland, but not to
      return to Paris. "Ah, Monseigneur! a great man may be pardoned for the
      weakness of loving women, but not for fearing them." This was the only
      reply of Madame Recamier to Fouché when she set out for Coppet. I may here
      observe that the personal prejudices of the Emperor would not have been of
      a persevering and violent character if some of the people who surrounded
      him had not sought to foment them. I myself fell a victim to this.
      Napoleon's affection for me would perhaps have got the upper hand if his
      relenting towards me had not been incessantly combated by my enemies
      around him.
    
The frequent meetings between Madame Recamier and Madame de Stael only fueled Napoleon’s feelings of irritation. He was increasingly bothered by the bond between these two women, who clearly enjoyed each other's company. During one of Madame Recamier's trips to Coppet, he passed a message through Fouché, stating that she was free to go to Switzerland but could not return to Paris. "Ah, Monseigneur! A great man can be forgiven for the weakness of loving women, but not for fearing them." This was Madame Recamier's only reply to Fouché as she headed for Coppet. It's worth noting that the Emperor's personal biases wouldn't have been so persistent and aggressive if some of those around him hadn’t tried to stir them up. I, too, was affected by this. Napoleon’s affection for me might have prevailed if my enemies around him hadn’t constantly undermined any softening of his attitude towards me.







      I had no opportunity of observing the aspect of Paris during that
      memorable period recorded in history by the name of the Hundred Days, but
      the letters which I received at the time, together with all that, I
      afterwards heard, concurred in assuring me that the capital never
      presented so melancholy a picture as: during those three months. No one
      felt any confidence in Napoleon's second reign, and it was said, without
      any sort of reserve, that Fouché, while serving the cause of usurpation,
      would secretly betray it. The future was viewed with alarm, and the
      present with dissatisfaction. The sight of the federates who paraded the
      faubourgs and the boulevards, vociferating, "The Republic for ever!" and
      "Death to the Royalists!" their sanguinary songs, the revolutionary airs
      played in our theatres, all tended to produce a fearful torpor in the
      public mind, and the issue of the impending events was anxiously awaited.
    
I didn't have the chance to see what Paris was like during that unforgettable time in history known as the Hundred Days, but the letters I received back then, along with everything I heard later, made it clear that the city never looked so grim as it did during those three months. No one had any faith in Napoleon's return to power, and it was openly said that Fouché, while supposedly supporting the usurpers, would actually betray them. The future was seen with dread, and the present was met with frustration. The sight of the federates marching through the neighborhoods and boulevards, shouting "The Republic forever!" and "Death to the Royalists!" along with their bloody songs and the revolutionary music played in our theaters, created a deep sense of fear and uncertainty in the public, and everyone was anxiously waiting to see what would happen next.







      One of the circumstances which, at the commencement of the Hundred Days,
      most contributed to open the eyes of those who were yet dazzled by the
      past glory of Napoleon, was the assurance with which he declared that the
      Empress and his son would be restored to him, though nothing warranted
      that announcement. It was evident that he could not count on any ally; and
      in spite of the prodigious activity with which a new army was raised those
      persons must have been blind indeed who could imagine the possibility of
      his triumphing over Europe, again armed to oppose him. I deplored the
      inevitable disasters which Bonaparte's bold enterprise would entail, but I
      had such certain information respecting the intentions of the Allied
      powers, and the spirit which animated the Plenipotentiaries at Vienna,
      that I could not for a moment doubt the issue of the conflict: Thus I was
      not at all surprised when I received at Hamburg the minutes of the
      conferences at Vienna in May 1815.
    
One of the things that really opened the eyes of those still blinded by Napoleon's past glory at the start of the Hundred Days was his confident claim that he would be reunited with the Empress and his son, even though there was no basis for that statement. It was clear that he couldn't rely on any allies; and despite the frantic efforts to assemble a new army, anyone who thought he could triumph over Europe, which was once again ready to fight against him, had to be truly delusional. I lamented the unavoidable disasters that Bonaparte's reckless move would bring, but I had such reliable information about the intentions of the Allied powers and the attitude of the diplomats in Vienna that I never doubted the outcome of the conflict: So I wasn't at all surprised when I received the minutes of the conferences in Vienna in May 1815 while in Hamburg.







      When the first intelligence of Bonaparte's landing was received at Vienna
      it must be confessed that very little had been done at the Congress, for
      measures calculated to reconstruct a solid and durable order of things
      could only be framed and adopted deliberately, and upon mature reflection.
      Louis XVIII. had instructed his Plenipotentiaries to defend and support
      the principles of justice and the law of nations, so as to secure the
      rights of all parties and avert the chances of a new war. The Congress was
      occupied with these important objects when intelligence was received of
      Napoleon's departure from Elba and his landing at the Gulf of Juan. The
      Plenipotentiaries then signed the protocol of the conferences to which I
      have above alluded.
    
When the news of Bonaparte's landing reached Vienna, it must be acknowledged that not much progress had been made at the Congress. This was because measures aimed at rebuilding a stable and lasting order could only be designed and accepted after careful consideration. Louis XVIII had instructed his representatives to uphold and advocate for the principles of justice and international law, ensuring the rights of everyone and preventing the likelihood of a new war. The Congress was focused on these crucial matters when they received the news of Napoleon's departure from Elba and his arrival at the Gulf of Juan. The representatives then signed the protocol of the conferences I mentioned earlier.



      [ANNEX TO THE PRECEDING CHAPTER.]
    
[ANNEX TO THE PREVIOUS CHAPTER.]



      The following despatch of Napoleon's to Marshal Davoust (given in Captain
      Bingham's Translation, vol. iii. p. 121), though not strictly bearing upon
      the subject of the Duke of Bassano's inquiry (p. 256), may perhaps find a
      place here, as indicative of the private feeling of the Emperor towards
      Bourrienne. As the reader will remember, it has already been alluded to
      earlier in the work:
    
The following message from Napoleon to Marshal Davoust (found in Captain Bingham's Translation, vol. iii. p. 121), while not directly related to the Duke of Bassano's question (p. 256), might still be relevant here, as it shows the Emperor's personal feelings towards Bourrienne. As the reader may recall, it has been mentioned earlier in the work:







      To MARSHAL DAVOUST. COMPIEGNE, 3d September 1811.
    
To MARSHAL DAVOUST. COMPIEGNE, September 3, 1811.






I have received your letter concerning the cheating of Bourrienne at
Hamburg. It will be important to throw light upon what he has done.
Have the Jew, Gumprecht Mares, arrested, seize his papers, and place him
in solitary confinement. Have some of the other principal agents of
Bourrienne arrested, so as to discover his doings at Hamburg, and the
embezzlements he has committed there.
                    (Signed) NAPOLEON.

I got your letter about Bourrienne cheating in Hamburg. It's crucial to investigate what he’s done. Arrest the Jew, Gumprecht Mares, confiscate his documents, and put him in solitary confinement. Also, arrest some of Bourrienne’s other key associates to uncover his activities in Hamburg and the embezzlement he's involved in there.  
                    (Signed) NAPOLEON.








 


 




















      CHAPTER VII.
    






 —[By the Editor of the 1836 edition]— 
—[By the Editor of the 1836 edition]—



      1815.
    
1815.


   Napoleon at Paris—Political manoeuvres—The meeting of the
   Champ-de-Mai—Napoleon, the Liberals, and the moderate
   Constitutionalists—His love of arbitrary power as strong as ever—
   Paris during the Cent Jours—Preparations for his last campaign—
   The Emperor leaves Paris to join the army—State of Brussels—
   Proclamation of Napoleon to the Belgians—Effective strength of the
   French and Allied armies—The Emperor's proclamation to the French
   army.

   Napoleon in Paris—Political maneuvers—The meeting at Champ-de-Mai—Napoleon, the Liberals, and the moderate Constitutionalists—His desire for absolute power as strong as ever—Paris during the Cent Jours—Preparations for his final campaign—The Emperor leaves Paris to join the army—Situation in Brussels—Napoleon's proclamation to the Belgians—Actual strength of the French and Allied armies—The Emperor's proclamation to the French army.







      Napoleon was scarcely reseated on his throne when he found he could not
      resume that absolute power he had possessed before his abdication at
      Fontainebleau. He was obliged to submit to the curb of a representative
      government, but we may well believe that he only yielded, with a mental
      reservation that as soon as victory should return to his standards and his
      army be reorganised he would send the representatives of the people back
      to their departments, and make himself as absolute as he had ever been.
      His temporary submission was indeed obligatory.
    
Napoleon had barely settled back on his throne when he realized he couldn't reclaim the absolute power he had before his abdication at Fontainebleau. He had to accept the limitations of a representative government, but it's reasonable to think that he only complied with the intention that as soon as victory returned to his side and his army was reorganized, he would send the representatives of the people back to their areas and make himself as powerful as he'd ever been. His temporary compliance was indeed necessary.







      The Republicans and Constitutionalists who had assisted, or not opposed
      his return, with Carnot, Fouché, Benjamin Constant, and his own brother
      Lucien (a lover of constitutional liberty) at their head, would support
      him only on condition of his reigning as a constitutional sovereign; he
      therefore proclaimed a constitution under the title of "Acte additionnel
      aux Constitutions de l'Empire," which greatly resembled the charter
      granted by Louis XVIII. the year before. An hereditary Chamber of Peers
      was to be appointed by the Emperor, a Chamber of Representatives chosen by
      the Electoral Colleges, to be renewed every five years, by which all taxes
      were to be voted, ministers were to be responsible, judges irremovable,
      the right of petition was acknowledged, and property was declared
      inviolable. Lastly, the French nation was made to declare that they would
      never recall the Bourbons.
    
The Republicans and Constitutionalists who had helped or not opposed his return, led by Carnot, Fouché, Benjamin Constant, and his own brother Lucien (who was a supporter of constitutional liberty), would only back him if he ruled as a constitutional sovereign. So, he announced a constitution titled "Acte additionnel aux Constitutions de l'Empire," which closely mirrored the charter granted by Louis XVIII the year before. An hereditary Chamber of Peers would be appointed by the Emperor, and a Chamber of Representatives would be elected by the Electoral Colleges and renewed every five years, which would vote on all taxes, hold ministers accountable, ensure judges could not be removed, acknowledge the right to petition, and declare property inviolable. Finally, the French nation was made to declare that they would never bring back the Bourbons.







      Even before reaching Paris, and while resting on his journey from Elba at
      Lyons, the second city in France, and the ancient capital of the Franks,
      Napoleon arranged his ministry, and issued sundry decrees, which show how
      little his mind was prepared for proceeding according to the majority of
      votes in representative assemblies.
    
Even before arriving in Paris, while taking a break on his trip from Elba at Lyons, the second largest city in France and the historic capital of the Franks, Napoleon organized his government and issued various decrees, demonstrating how unprepared he was to act according to the majority decisions in representative assemblies.







      Cambacérès was named Minister of Justice, Fouché Minister of Police (a
      boon to the Revolutionists), Davoust appointed Minister of War. Decrees
      upon decrees were issued with a rapidity which showed how laboriously
      Bonaparte had employed those studious hours at Elba which he was supposed
      to have dedicated to the composition of his Memoirs. They were couched in
      the name of "Napoleon, by the grace of God, Emperor of France," and were
      dated on the 13th of March, although not promulgated until the 21st of
      that month. The first of these decrees abrogated all changes in the courts
      of justice and tribunals which had taken place during the absence of
      Napoleon. The second banished anew all emigrants who had returned to
      France before 1814 without proper authority, and displaced all officers
      belonging to the class of emigrants introduced into the army by the King.
      The third suppressed the Order of St. Louis, the white flag, cockade, and
      other Royal emblems, and restored the tri-coloured banner and the Imperial
      symbols of Bonaparte's authority. The same decree abolished the Swiss
      Guard and the Household troops of the King. The fourth sequestered the
      effects of the Bourbons. A similar Ordinance sequestered the restored
      property of emigrant families.
    
Cambacérès was appointed Minister of Justice, Fouché was made Minister of Police (a win for the Revolutionists), and Davoust became Minister of War. Decree after decree was issued at a pace that showed how diligently Bonaparte had spent those reflective hours at Elba, which everyone thought he dedicated to writing his Memoirs. They were addressed in the name of "Napoleon, by the grace of God, Emperor of France," and were dated March 13, although they weren't announced until March 21. The first of these decrees canceled all the changes in the justice system and courts that had occurred while Napoleon was away. The second decree banned all emigrants who returned to France before 1814 without proper permission and removed all officers in the army who were formerly emigrants introduced by the King. The third decree abolished the Order of St. Louis, the white flag, cockade, and other royal symbols, and reinstated the tri-colored flag and the imperial symbols of Bonaparte's authority. This same decree also disbanded the Swiss Guard and the King's Household troops. The fourth decree confiscated the property of the Bourbons. A similar ordinance confiscated the property of emigrant families that had been restored.







      The fifth decree of Lyons suppressed the ancient nobility and feudal
      titles, and formally confirmed proprietors of national domains in their
      possessions. (This decree was very acceptable to the majority of
      Frenchmen). The sixth declared sentence of exile against all emigrants not
      erased by Napoleon from the list previously to the accession of the
      Bourbons, to which was added confiscation of their property. The seventh
      restored the Legion of Honour in every respect as it had existed under the
      Emperor; uniting to its funds the confiscated revenues of the Bourbon
      order of St. Louis. The eighth and last decree was the most important of
      all. Under pretence that emigrants who had borne arms against France had
      been introduced into the Chamber of Peers, and that the Chamber of
      Deputies had already sat for the legal time, it dissolved both Chambers,
      and convoked the Electoral Colleges of the Empire, in order that they
      might hold, in the ensuing month of May, an extraordinary assembly—the
      Champ-de-Mai.
    
The fifth decree of Lyons eliminated the old nobility and feudal titles, and officially confirmed the owners of national lands in their holdings. (This decree was quite popular among most French people.) The sixth imposed exile on all emigrants not removed by Napoleon from the list before the Bourbons took over, and it included the confiscation of their property. The seventh reinstated the Legion of Honour just as it had been under the Emperor, merging its funds with the confiscated revenues of the Bourbon order of St. Louis. The eighth and final decree was the most significant of all. Under the pretense that emigrants who had fought against France had been allowed into the Chamber of Peers, and that the Chamber of Deputies had already been in session for the required time, it dissolved both Chambers and summoned the Electoral Colleges of the Empire to hold an extraordinary assembly—the Champ-de-Mai—in the upcoming month of May.







      This National Convocation, for which Napoleon claimed a precedent in the
      history of the ancient Franks, was to have two objects: first, to make
      such alterations and reforms in the Constitution of the Empire as
      circumstances should render advisable; secondly, to assist at the
      coronation of the Empress Maria Louisa. Her presence, and that of her son,
      was spoken of as something that admitted of no doubt, though Bonaparte
      knew there was little hope of their return from Vienna. These various
      enactments were well calculated to serve Napoleon's cause. They flattered
      the army, and at the same time stimulated their resentment against the
      emigrants, by insinuating that they had been sacrificed by Louis to the
      interest of his followers. They held out to the Republicans a prospect of
      confiscation, proscription, and, revolution of government, while, the
      Imperialists were gratified with a view of ample funds for pensions,
      offices, and honorary decorations. To proprietors of the national domains
      security was promised, to the Parisians the grand spectacle of the
      Champ-de-Mai, and to. France peace and tranquillity, since the arrival of
      the Empress and her son, confidently asserted to be at hand, was taken as
      a pledge of the friendship of Austria.
    
This National Convocation, which Napoleon pointed to as having a precedent in the history of the ancient Franks, had two main purposes: first, to make changes and reforms to the Constitution of the Empire as circumstances demanded; second, to participate in the coronation of Empress Maria Louisa. Her presence, along with her son's, was considered certain, even though Bonaparte knew there was little hope of their return from Vienna. These various measures were well designed to support Napoleon's agenda. They appealed to the army while also fueling their anger towards the emigrants, suggesting that they had been sacrificed by Louis for the benefit of his supporters. They offered Republicans a chance for confiscation, exile, and a change in government, while the Imperialists were pleased with the prospect of substantial funds for pensions, positions, and honorary awards. Landowners of national domains were promised security, Parisians were treated to the grand spectacle of the Champ-de-Mai, and all of France was promised peace and stability, as the anticipated arrival of the Empress and her son was confidently presented as a sign of Austria's friendship.







      Napoleon at the same time endeavoured to make himself popular with the
      common people—the mob of the Faubourg St. Antoine and other obscure
      quarters of Paris. On the first evening of his return, as he walked round
      the glittering circle met to welcome him, in the State apartments of the
      Tuileries, he kept repeating, "Gentlemen, it is to the poor and
      disinterested mass of the people that I owe everything; it is they who
      have brought me back to the capital. It is the poor subaltern officers and
      common soldiers that have done all this. I owe everything to the common
      people and the ranks of the army. Remember that! I owe everything to the
      army and the people!" Some time after he took occasional rides through the
      Faubourg St. Antoine, but the demonstrations of the mob gave him little
      pleasure, and, it was easy to detect a sneer in his addresses to them. He
      had some slight intercourse with the men of the Revolution—the
      fierce, blood-thirsty Jacobins—but even now he could not conceal his
      abhorrence of them, and, be it said to his honour, he had as little to do
      with them as possible.
    
Napoleon also tried to win over the common people—the crowds from Faubourg St. Antoine and other lesser-known parts of Paris. On the first night of his return, as he walked around the glamorous group gathered to greet him in the State apartments of the Tuileries, he kept saying, "Gentlemen, I owe everything to the poor and selfless masses. They are the ones who brought me back to the capital. It’s the low-ranking officers and ordinary soldiers who made all this happen. I owe everything to the common people and the military ranks. Remember that! I owe everything to the army and the people!" Afterward, he occasionally rode through Faubourg St. Antoine, but the crowds' reactions brought him little joy, and it was easy to sense a hint of disdain in his speeches to them. He had some limited interaction with the men of the Revolution—the fierce, bloodthirsty Jacobins—but even then, he couldn’t hide his disgust for them, and to his credit, he kept his distance as much as possible.







      When Napoleon, departed for the summer campaign he took care beforehand to
      leave large sums of money for the 'federes'; in the hands of the devoted
      Real; under whose management the mob was placed. These sums were to be
      distributed at appropriate seasons, to make the people cry in the streets
      of Paris, "Napoleon or death." He also left in the hands of Davoust a
      written authority for the publication of his bulletins, many clauses of
      which were written long before the battles were fought that they were to
      describe. He gave to the same Marshal a plan of his campaign, which he had
      arranged for the defensive. This was not confided to him without an
      injunction of the strictest secrecy, but it is said that Davoust
      communicated the plan to Fouché. Considering Davoust's character this is
      very unlikely, but if so, it is far from improbable that Fouché
      communicated the plan to the Allies with whom, and more particularly with
      Prince Metternich, he is well known to have been corresponding at the
      time.
    
When Napoleon left for the summer campaign, he made sure to leave a lot of money for the 'federes' in the care of the loyal Real, who managed the crowd. This money was meant to be distributed at the right times to make the people in the streets of Paris shout, "Napoleon or death." He also gave Davoust written permission to publish his bulletins, many of which had clauses written long before the battles they described. He provided the same Marshal with a defensive plan for his campaign. This was not shared without a strict confidentiality agreement, but it’s rumored that Davoust told Fouché about the plan. Given Davoust's character, this seems very unlikely, but if it did happen, it's not out of the question that Fouché passed the information to the Allies, particularly Prince Metternich, with whom he was known to be corresponding at the time.







      Shortly after the Emperor's arrival in Paris Benjamin Constant, a moderate
      and candid man, was deputed by the constitutional party to ascertain
      Napoleon's sentiments and intentions. Constant was a lover of
      constitutional liberty, and an old opponent of Napoleon, whose headlong
      career of despotism, cut out by the sword, he had vainly endeavoured to
      check by the eloquence of his pen.
    
Shortly after the Emperor arrived in Paris, Benjamin Constant, a reasonable and straightforward man, was appointed by the constitutional party to find out Napoleon's feelings and plans. Constant was a supporter of constitutional freedom and a longtime adversary of Napoleon, whose reckless path of tyranny, forged by violence, he had unsuccessfully tried to stop with the power of his writing.







      The interview took place at the Tuileries. The Emperor, as was his wont,
      began the conversation, and kept it nearly all to himself during the rest
      of the audience. He did not affect to disguise either his past actions or
      present dispositions.
    
The interview happened at the Tuileries. The Emperor, as he usually did, started the conversation and dominated it for most of the meeting. He made no effort to hide either his past actions or his current intentions.







      "The nation," he said, "has had a respite of twelve years from every kind
      of political agitation, and for one year has enjoyed a respite from war.
      This double repose has created a craving after activity. It requires, or
      fancies it requires, a Tribune and popular assemblies. It did not always
      require them. The people threw themselves at my feet when I took the reins
      of government. You ought to recollect this, who made a trial of
      opposition. Where was your support—your strength? Nowhere. I assumed
      less authority than I was invited to assume. Now all is changed. A feeble
      government, opposed to the national interests, has given to these
      interests the habit of standing on the defensive and evading authority.
      The taste for constitutions, for debates, for harangues, appears to have
      revived. Nevertheless it is but the minority that wishes all this, be
      assured. The people, or if you like the phrase better; the multitude, wish
      only for me. You would say so if you had only seen this multitude pressing
      eagerly on my steps, rushing down from the tops of the mountains, calling
      on me, seeking me out, saluting me. On my way from Cannes hither I have
      not conquered—I have administered. I am not only (as has been
      pretended) the Emperor of the soldiers; I am that of the peasants of the
      plebeians of France. Accordingly, in spite of all that has happened, you
      see the people come back to me. There is sympathy between us. It is not as
      with the privileged classes. The noblesse have been in my service; they
      thronged in crowds into my antechambers. There is no place that they have
      not accepted or solicited. I have had the Montmorencys, the Noailles, the
      Rohans, the Beauveaus, the Montemarts, in my train. But there never was
      any cordiality between us. The steed made his curvets—he was well
      broken in, but I felt him quiver under me. With the people it is another
      thing. The popular fibre responds to mine. I have risen from the ranks of
      the people: my voice sets mechanically upon them. Look at those
      conscripts, the sons of peasants: I never flattered them; I treated them
      roughly. They did not crowd round me the less; they did not on that
      account cease to cry, 'Vive l'Empereur!' It is that between them and me
      there is one and the same nature. They look to me as their support, their
      safeguard against the nobles. I have but to make a sign, or even to look
      another way, and the nobles would be massacred in every province. So well
      have they managed matters in the last ten months! but I do not desire to
      be the King of a mob. If there are the means to govern by a constitution
      well and good. I wished for the empire of the world, and to ensure it
      complete liberty of action was necessary to me. To govern France merely it
      is possible that a constitution may be better. I wished for the empire of
      the world, as who would not have done in my place? The world invited me to
      rule over it. Sovereigns and subjects alike emulously bowed the neck under
      my sceptre. I have seldom met with opposition in France, but still I have
      encountered more of it from some obscure and unarmed Frenchmen than from
      all these Kings so resolute, just now, no longer to have a man of the
      people for their equal! See then what appears to you possible; let me know
      your ideas. Public discussion, free elections, responsible ministers, the
      liberty of the press, I have no objection to all that, the liberty of the
      press especially; to stifle it is absurd. I am convinced on this point. I
      am the man of the people: if the people really wish for liberty let them
      have it. I have acknowledged their sovereignty. It is just that I should
      lend an ear to their will, nay, even to their caprices. I have never been
      disposed to oppress them for my pleasure. I conceived great designs; but
      fate has been against me; I am no longer a conqueror, nor can I be one. I
      know what is possible and what is not.—I have no further object than
      to raise up France and bestow on her a government suitable to her. I have
      no hatred to liberty, I have set it aside when it obstructed my path, but
      I understand what it means; I was brought up in its school: besides, the
      work of fifteen years is overturned, and it is not possible to recommence
      it. It would take twenty years, and the lives of 2,000,000 of men to be
      sacrificed to it. As for the rest, I desire peace, but I can only obtain
      it by means of victory. I would not inspire you with false expectations. I
      permit it to be said that negotiations are going on; there are none. I
      foresee a hard struggle, a long war. To support it I must be seconded by
      the nation, but in return I believe they will expect liberty. They shall
      have it: the circumstances are new. All I desire is to be informed of the
      truth. I am getting old. A man is no longer at forty-five what he was at
      thirty. The repose enjoyed by a constitutional king may suit me: it will
      still more certainly be the best thing, for my son."
    
"The country," he said, "has had a break of twelve years from all forms of political unrest, and for one year has enjoyed a break from war. This combined peace has created a desire for action. It needs, or thinks it needs, a Tribune and public assemblies. It didn't always need them. The people threw themselves at my feet when I took power. You should remember this, especially those who attempted opposition. Where was your support—your strength? Nowhere. I took on less authority than I was invited to take. Now everything has changed. A weak government, opposed to the nation's interests, has made these interests accustomed to being defensive and evading authority. The desire for constitutions, debates, and speeches seems to have resurfaced. However, it's only a minority that truly wants all this, trust me. The people, or if you'd like, the masses, only want me. You would say so if you had seen this crowd eagerly following me, rushing down from the mountains, calling my name, looking for me, greeting me. On my way from Cannes here, I have not conquered—I have governed. I am not just (as has been claimed) the Emperor of the soldiers; I am also the Emperor of the peasants, the common people of France. So, despite everything that has happened, you see the people returning to me. There’s a connection between us. It’s not the same with the privileged classes. The nobles have served me; they crowded into my waiting rooms. There’s no position they haven’t accepted or sought. I've had the Montmorencys, the Noailles, the Rohans, the Beauveaus, the Montemarts, in my company. But there was never any real warmth between us. The horse performed its tricks—it was well trained, but I could feel it trembling beneath me. With the people, it's different. The popular spirit connects with mine. I have risen from the ranks of the people: my voice instinctively resonates with them. Look at those draftees, the sons of peasants: I never flattered them; I treated them harshly. They still crowded around me; they didn’t stop cheering, 'Long live the Emperor!' It’s because between them and me, we share the same spirit. They see me as their support, their protection against the nobles. All I have to do is make a gesture, or even look away, and the nobles would be slaughtered in every province. They’ve handled things so poorly in the last ten months! But I don’t want to be the King of a mob. If there are ways to govern with a constitution, great. I wanted the empire of the world, and to secure it, I needed complete freedom of action. To govern France alone, a constitution might be better. I wanted the empire of the world, as anyone would in my position. The world wanted me to rule it. Kings and subjects alike eagerly bowed under my authority. I’ve rarely faced opposition in France, but I've faced more from some obscure, unarmed Frenchmen than from all those kings who, at this moment, resolutely refuse to have a man of the people as their equal! So, tell me what you think is possible; share your ideas. Public debate, free elections, accountable ministers, freedom of the press—I have no objections to any of that, especially the freedom of the press; suppressing it is ridiculous. I’m convinced of this. I am the people's man: if they truly want freedom, they should have it. I’ve recognized their sovereignty. It's only fair that I listen to their will, even to their whims. I’ve never meant to oppress them for my own pleasure. I envisioned great plans; but fate has turned against me; I’m no longer a conqueror, nor can I be one. I know what’s possible and what’s not.—I have no further aim than to uplift France and give it a government that suits it. I harbor no hatred for freedom; I’ve set it aside when it got in my way, but I understand what it means; I was raised in its environment: besides, the work of the past fifteen years has been undone, and it’s not possible to start it over. It would take twenty years, and the lives of 2,000,000 men to be sacrificed for it. As for the rest, I want peace, but I can only achieve it through victory. I wouldn't want to raise false hopes. I allow it to be said that negotiations are in progress; there are none. I foresee a tough battle, a long war. For that, I need the support of the nation, but in return, I believe they will expect liberty. They will have it: the situation is different now. All I want is to know the truth. I am getting older. A man is not the same at forty-five as he was at thirty. The peace enjoyed by a constitutional king may suit me: it will certainly be the best thing for my son."







      From this remarkable address. Benjamin Constant concluded that no change
      had taken place in Bonaparte's views or feelings in matters of government,
      but, being convinced that circumstances had changed, he had made up his
      mind to conform to them. He says, and we cannot doubt it, "that he
      listened to Napoleon with the deepest interest, that there was a breadth
      and grandeur of manner as he spoke, and a calm serenity seated on a brow
      covered with immortal laurels."
    
From this remarkable speech, Benjamin Constant concluded that there was no shift in Bonaparte's beliefs or emotions regarding governance, but he was convinced that the situation had changed, and he decided to adapt to it. He states, and we can believe it, "that he listened to Napoleon with great interest, that there was a sense of breadth and nobility in his manner while speaking, and a calm serenity on a forehead adorned with eternal laurels."







      Whilst believing the utter incompatibility of Napoleon and constitutional
      government we cannot in fairness omit mentioning that the causes which
      repelled him from the altar and sanctuary of freedom were strong: the real
      lovers of a rational and feasible liberty—the constitutional
      monarchy men were few—the mad ultra-Liberals, the Jacobins, the
      refuse of one revolution and the provokers of another, were numerous,
      active, loud, and in pursuing different ends these two parties, the
      respectable and the disreputable, the good and the bad, got mixed and
      confused with one another.
    
While we believe that Napoleon and constitutional government are completely incompatible, we can't fairly ignore the strong reasons that pushed him away from the principles of freedom. The true advocates for a reasonable and practical liberty—the supporters of constitutional monarchy—were few. In contrast, the extreme ultra-Liberals, the Jacobins, the leftovers of one revolution and the instigators of another, were many, active, and vocal. As these two groups—the respectable and the disreputable, the good and the bad—pursued different goals, they became mixed up and confused with each other.







      On the 14th of May, when the 'federes' were marshalled in processional
      order and treated with what was called a solemn festival, as they moved
      along the boulevards to the Court of the Tuileries, they coupled the name
      of Napoleon with Jacobin curses and revolutionary songs. The airs and the
      words that had made Paris tremble to her very centre during the Reign of
      Terror—the "Marseillaise," the "Carmagnole," the "Jour du depart,"
      the execrable ditty, the burden of which is, "And with the entrails of the
      last of the priests let us strangle the last of the kings," were all
      roared out in fearful chorus by a drunken, filthy, and furious mob. Many a
      day had elapsed since they had dared to sing these blasphemous and
      antisocial songs in public. Napoleon himself as soon as he had power
      enough suppressed them, and he was as proud of this feat and his triumph
      over the dregs of the Jacobins as he was of any of his victories; and in
      this he was right, in this he proved himself the friend of humanity. As
      the tumultuous mass approached the triumphal arch and the grand entrance
      to the Palace he could not conceal his abhorrence. His Guards were drawn
      up under arms, and numerous pieces of artillery, already loaded were
      turned out on the Place du Carrousel. He hastily dismissed these dangerous
      partisans with some praise, some money, and some drink. On coming into
      close contact with such a mob he did not feel his fibre respond to that of
      the populace! Like Frankenstein, he loathed and was afraid of the mighty
      monster he had put together.
    
On May 14th, when the 'federes' were lined up in a procession and celebrated with what they called a solemn festival, they moved along the boulevards to the Court of the Tuileries while shouting Napoleon's name alongside Jacobin curses and revolutionary songs. The anthems and lyrics that had once made Paris tremble during the Reign of Terror—the "Marseillaise," the "Carmagnole," the "Jour du départ," and the vile chant about strangling the last king with the entrails of the last priest—were all bellowed in a chaotic chorus by a drunken, filthy, and furious crowd. It had been many days since they had dared to sing those blasphemous and antisocial songs in public. Napoleon, as soon as he had enough power, had suppressed them, and he took pride in this achievement and his victory over the remnants of the Jacobins, just as he did with any of his military wins; in this, he showed himself to be a friend of humanity. As the noisy mass drew near the triumphal arch and the grand entrance of the Palace, he couldn't hide his disgust. His Guards were lined up and ready, and several loaded cannons were set up on the Place du Carrousel. He quickly dismissed these dangerous supporters with some praise, some cash, and some drinks. In close proximity to such a crowd, he felt disconnected from the people! Like Frankenstein, he despised and feared the monstrous creation he had assembled.







      But it was not merely the mob that checked the liberalism or constitution
      of Napoleon, a delicate and doubtful plant in itself, that required the
      most cautious treatment to make it really take root and grow up in such a
      soil: Some of his councillors, who called themselves "philosophical
      statesmen," advised him to lay aside the style of Emperor, and assume that
      of High President or Lord General of the Republic! Annoyed with such
      puerilities while the enemy was every day drawing nearer the frontiers he
      withdrew from the Tuileries to the comparatively small and retired palace
      of the Elysee, where he escaped these talking-dreamers, and felt himself
      again a sovereign: Shut up with Benjamin Constant and a few other
      reasonable politicians, he drew up the sketch of a new constitution, which
      was neither much better nor much worse than the royal charter of Louis
      XVIII. We give an epitome of its main features.
    
But it wasn't just the mob that limited the liberalism or constitution of Napoleon, which was already a fragile and uncertain concept that needed careful handling to truly take root and flourish in such an environment. Some of his advisors, who referred to themselves as "philosophical statesmen," suggested that he abandon the title of Emperor and instead use High President or Lord General of the Republic! Frustrated by such childish ideas while the enemy was getting closer to the borders every day, he moved from the Tuileries to the smaller and more secluded palace of the Elysee, where he could escape these dreamers and feel like a sovereign again. Isolated with Benjamin Constant and a few other sensible politicians, he drafted a new constitution that was neither significantly better nor worse than the royal charter of Louis XVIII. We provide a summary of its main features.







      The Emperor was to have executive power, and to exercise legislative power
      in concurrence with the two Chambers. The Chamber of Peers was to be
      hereditary, and nominated by the Emperor, and its number was unlimited.
      The Second Chamber was to be elected by the people, and to consist of 629
      members; none to be under the age of twenty-five. The President was to be
      appointed by the members, but approved of by the Emperor. Members were to
      be paid at the rate settled by the Constituent Assembly, which was to be
      renewed every five years. The Emperor might prorogue, adjourn, or dissolve
      the House of Representatives, whose sittings were to be public. The
      Electoral Colleges were maintained. Land tax and direct taxes were to be
      voted only for a year, indirect taxes might be imposed for several years.
      No levy of men for the army nor any exchange of territory was to be made
      but by a law. Taxes were to be proposed by the Chamber of Representatives.
      Ministers to be responsible. Judges to be irremovable. Juries to be
      established. Right of petition, freedom of worship, inviolability of
      property, were recognised. Liberty of the press was given under legal
      responsibility, and press offences were to be judged with a jury. No place
      or part of the territory could be placed in a state of siege except in
      case of foreign invasion or civil troubles. Finally, the French people
      declared that in the delegation it thus made of its powers it was not to
      be taken as giving the right to propose the re-establishment of the
      Bourbons, or of any Prince of that family on the throne, even in case of
      the extinction of the imperial dynasty. Any such proposal was formally
      interdicted to the Chambers or to the citizens, as well as any of the
      following measures, viz. the re-establishment of the former, feudal
      nobility, of the feudal and seignorial rights, of tithes, of any
      privileged and dominant religion, as well as of the power of making any
      attack on the irrevocability of the sale of the national goods.
    
The Emperor was to have executive authority and share legislative power with the two Chambers. The Chamber of Peers would be hereditary and appointed by the Emperor, with no limit on its size. The Second Chamber would be elected by the people and consist of 629 members, all of whom had to be at least twenty-five years old. The President would be chosen by the members but needed the Emperor's approval. Members would be compensated at a rate set by the Constituent Assembly, which would be renewed every five years. The Emperor could suspend, adjourn, or dissolve the House of Representatives, which would hold public sessions. Electoral Colleges would be maintained. Land tax and direct taxes could only be approved for one year, while indirect taxes could be imposed for multiple years. No conscription for the army or territorial exchanges could occur without a law. Taxes would be proposed by the Chamber of Representatives. Ministers would be held accountable. Judges would be irremovable. Juries would be established. The right to petition, freedom of worship, and the inviolability of property were recognized. Press freedom was granted under legal accountability, and offenses related to the press would be judged by a jury. No area or part of the territory could be placed under siege except in cases of foreign invasion or civil unrest. Lastly, the French people declared that the delegation of power they enacted did not imply a right to propose the restoration of the Bourbons or any member of that family to the throne, even if the imperial dynasty were to end. Any such proposal was explicitly prohibited to the Chambers or citizens, along with any measures to restore the former feudal nobility, feudal and seignorial rights, tithes, any privileged religion, or to challenge the irrevocability of the sale of national assets.







      Shortly after the return of Napoleon from Elba, believing it to be
      impossible to make the Emperor of Austria consent to his wife's rejoining
      him (and Maria Louisa had no inclination to a renewal of conjugal
      intercourse), Napoleon had not been many days in Paris when he concocted a
      plan for carrying off from Vienna both his wife and his son: In this
      project force was no less necessary than stratagem. A number of French of
      both sexes much devoted to the Emperor, who, had given them rank and
      fortune, had accompanied Maria Louisa in 1814 from Paris to Blois and
      thence to Vienna. A correspondence was opened with these persons, who
      embarked heart and soul in the plot; they forged passports, procured
      relays, of horses; and altogether arranged matters so well that but for a
      single individual—one who revealed the whole project a few days
      previously to that fixed upon for carrying it into effect—there is
      little room to doubt that the plan would have succeeded, and that the
      daughter of Austria and the titular King of home would have given such,
      prestige as their presence could give at the Tuileries and the
      Champs-de-Mai. No sooner had the Emperor of Austria discovered this plot,
      which, had it been successful, would have placed him in a very awkward
      predicament, than he dismissed all the French people about his daughter,
      compelled her to lay aside the armorial bearings and liveries of Napoleon,
      and even to relinquish the title of Empress of the French: No force, no
      art, no police could conceal these things from the people of Paris; who,
      moreover, and at nearly the same time; were made very uneasy by the
      failure of Murat's attempt in Italy, which greatly increased the power and
      political influence of Austria. Murat being disposed of, the Emperor
      Francis was enabled to concentrate all his forces in Italy, and to hold
      them in readiness for the re-invasion of France.
    
Shortly after Napoleon returned from Elba, believing it would be impossible to get Emperor Austria to agree to his wife joining him (and Maria Louisa had no desire to resume their marriage), Napoleon had only been in Paris a few days when he devised a plan to abduct both his wife and son from Vienna. This plan required both force and strategy. Several devoted French men and women, who had gained rank and fortune from the Emperor, had accompanied Maria Louisa in 1814 from Paris to Blois and then to Vienna. A secret communication was established with these individuals, who wholeheartedly joined the scheme; they forged passports, arranged for fresh horses, and coordinated everything so well that, except for one person—who revealed the entire plan a few days before the intended date—it’s likely that the plan would have worked, and the daughter of Austria along with the nominal King would have brought significant prestige to the Tuileries and the Champs-de-Mai. As soon as the Emperor of Austria discovered this plot, which, if successful, would have put him in a very difficult position, he dismissed all the French people around his daughter, forced her to discard the symbols and uniforms of Napoleon, and even to give up the title of Empress of the French. No force, trickery, or police could hide these happenings from the people of Paris, who were also made quite anxious around the same time by the failure of Murat's attempts in Italy, which significantly boosted Austria's power and political influence. With Murat out of the picture, Emperor Francis was able to concentrate all his forces in Italy and keep them ready for a re-invasion of France.







      "Napoleon," says Lavallette, "had undoubtedly expected that the Empress
      and his son would be restored to him; he had published his wishes as a
      certainty, and to prevent it was, in fact, the worst injury the Emperor of
      Austria could have done, him. His hope was, however, soon destroyed.
    
"Napoleon," Lavallette says, "definitely thought that the Empress and his son would be returned to him; he had announced his wishes as a sure thing, and preventing that was, in reality, the worst thing the Emperor of Austria could have done to him. However, his hope was quickly shattered."







      "One evening I was summoned to the palace. I found the Emperor in a
      dimly-lighted closet, warming himself in a corner of the fireplace, and
      appearing to suffer already from the complaint which never afterwards left
      him. 'Here is a letter,' he said, 'which the courier from Vienna says is
      meant for you—read it.' On first casting my eyes on the letter I
      thought I knew the handwriting, but as it was long I read it slowly, and
      came at last to the principal object. The writer said that we ought not to
      reckon upon the Empress, as she did not even attempt to conceal her
      dislike of the Emperor, and was disposed to approve all the measures that
      could be taken against him; that her return was not to be thought of, as
      she herself would raise the greatest obstacles in the way of it; in case
      it should be proposed; finally, that it was not possible for him to
      dissemble his indignation that the Empress, wholly enamoured of ——,
      did not even take pains to hide her ridiculous partiality for him. The
      handwriting of the letter was disguised, yet not so much but that I was
      able to discover whose it was. I found; however, in the manner in which
      the secret was expressed a warmth of zeal and a picturesque style that did
      not belong to the author of the letter. While reading it, I all of a
      sudden suspected it was a counterfeit, and intended to mislead the
      Emperor. I communicated this idea to him, and the danger I perceived in
      this fraud. As I grew more and more animated I found plausible reasons
      enough to throw the Emperor himself into some uncertainty. 'How is it
      possible,' I said, 'that ——— should have been imprudent
      enough to write such things to me, who am not his friend, and who have had
      so little connection with him? How can one suppose that the Empress should
      forget herself, in such circumstances, so far as to manifest aversion to
      you, and, still more, to cast herself away upon a man who undoubtedly
      still possesses some power to please, but who is no longer young, whose
      face is disfigured, and whose person, altogether, has nothing agreeable in
      it?' 'But,' answered the Emperor, ——- is attached to me; and
      though he is not your friend, the postscript sufficiently explains the
      motive of the confidence he places in you.' The following words were, in
      fact, written at the bottom of the letter: 'I do not think you ought to
      mention the truth to the Emperor, but make whatever use of it you think
      proper.' I persisted, however, in maintaining that the letter was a
      counterfeit; and the Emperor then said to me, 'Go to Caulaincourt. He
      possesses a great many others in the same handwriting. Let the comparison
      decide between your opinion and mine.'
    
"One evening I was called to the palace. I found the Emperor in a dimly lit room, warming himself in a corner of the fireplace and already looking like he was suffering from an illness that would never leave him. 'Here’s a letter,' he said, 'which the courier from Vienna says is for you—read it.' When I first glanced at the letter, I thought I recognized the handwriting, but since it was long, I read it slowly and eventually got to the main point. The writer mentioned that we shouldn’t count on the Empress, as she didn’t even try to hide her dislike for the Emperor and seemed inclined to support any measures taken against him. Her return wasn’t something to expect, as she would create the biggest obstacles to it if it were proposed; finally, it was impossible for him to hide his anger that the Empress, completely in love with ——, didn’t even bother to conceal her ridiculous favoritism towards him. The handwriting of the letter was disguised, but not enough for me to figure out who it was. However, I noticed that the way the secret was expressed had a warmth and vivid style that didn’t match the author of the letter. While reading it, I suddenly suspected it was fake and meant to mislead the Emperor. I shared this thought with him, explaining the danger I saw in this deception. As I became more animated, I found enough plausible reasons to make the Emperor doubt himself. 'How is it possible,' I asked, 'that ——— would be careless enough to write such things to me, who am not his friend and have had so little to do with him? How can anyone think the Empress would act so foolishly, showing aversion to you and, even worse, throwing herself at a man who may still have some charm but is no longer young, whose face is disfigured, and whose whole appearance is far from appealing?' 'But,' the Emperor replied, '——— is loyal to me; and while he’s not your friend, the postscript clearly explains the reason for the trust he has in you.' The following words were, in fact, written at the bottom of the letter: 'I don’t think you should tell the Emperor the truth, but use it as you see fit.' Still, I insisted that the letter was fake; then the Emperor said to me, 'Go to Caulaincourt. He has many others in the same handwriting. Let the comparison decide between your opinion and mine.'”







      "I went to Caulaincourt, who said eagerly to me, 'I am sure the letter is
      from ——-, and I have not the least doubt of the truth of the
      particulars it contains. The best thing the Emperor can do is to be
      comforted; there is no help to be expected from that side.'
    
"I went to Caulaincourt, who said eagerly to me, 'I'm sure the letter is from ——-, and I have no doubt about the truth of the details it includes. The best thing the Emperor can do is to stay hopeful; there's no help to be expected from that side.'"







      "So sad a discovery was very painful to the Emperor, for he was sincerely
      attached to the Empress, and still hoped again to see his son, whom he
      loved most tenderly.'
    
"So heartbreaking a discovery was very painful for the Emperor, as he was truly attached to the Empress and still hoped to see his son again, whom he loved dearly."







      "Fouché had been far from wishing the return of the Emperor. He was long
      tired of obeying, and had, besides, undertaken another plan, which
      Napoleon's arrival had broken off. The Emperor, however, put him again at
      the head of the police, because Savary was worn out in that employment,
      and a skillful man was wanted there. Fouché accepted the office, but
      without giving up his plan of deposing the Emperor, to put in his place
      either his son or a Republic under a President. He had never ceased to
      correspond with Prince Metternich, and, if he is to be believed, he tried
      to persuade the Emperor to abdicate in favour of his son. That was also my
      opinion; but; coming from such a quarter, the advice was not without
      danger for the person to whom it was given. Besides, that advice having
      been rejected, it: was the duty of the Minister either to think no more of
      his plan or to resign his office. Fouché, however, remained in the
      Cabinet; and continued his correspondence. The Emperor, who placed but
      little confidence in him; kept a careful eye upon him. One evening the
      Emperor: had a great deal of company at the Elysee, he told me not to go
      home, because he wished to speak to me. When everybody was gone the
      Emperor stopped with Fouché in the apartment next to the one I was in. The
      door remained half open. They walked up and down together talking very
      calmly. I was therefore greatly astonished when, after a quarter of, an
      hour, I heard the Emperor say to him' gravely, 'You are a traitor! Why do
      you remain Minister of the Police if you wish to betray me? It rests with
      me to have you hanged, and everybody would rejoice at your death!' I did
      not hear Fouché's reply, but the conversation lasted above half an hour
      longer, the parties all the time walking up and down. When Fouché went
      away he bade me cheerfully, good-night, and said that the Emperor had gone
      back to his apartments.
    
Fouché had no interest in the Emperor's return. He was tired of taking orders and had, in fact, planned something else, which Napoleon’s arrival interrupted. Nevertheless, the Emperor reinstated him as head of the police because Savary was exhausted in that role, and a capable person was needed. Fouché accepted the position, but still aimed to depose the Emperor and replace him with either his son or a republic under a president. He had never stopped communicating with Prince Metternich and, if you believe him, tried to convince the Emperor to step down in favor of his son. I shared that view; however, given the source, such advice was risky for the recipient. Plus, since that advice was turned down, it was the Minister's responsibility to abandon his plan or resign. Yet Fouché stayed in the Cabinet and continued his correspondence. The Emperor, who had little trust in him, kept a close watch. One evening, when the Emperor had a lot of guests at the Elysee, he asked me not to go home because he wanted to talk to me. Once everyone left, the Emperor stayed with Fouché in the next room. The door was half open. They walked back and forth, chatting calmly. So, I was shocked when, after about fifteen minutes, I heard the Emperor say seriously, "You are a traitor! Why do you remain Minister of Police if you plan to betray me? I could have you hanged, and everyone would celebrate your death!" I didn't catch Fouché's response, but their discussion went on for another half hour, with them continuing to walk. When Fouché left, he cheerfully wished me goodnight and mentioned that the Emperor had returned to his rooms.







      "The next day the Emperor spoke to me of the previous night's
      conversation. 'I suspected,' he said, 'that the wretch was in
      correspondence with Vienna. I have had a banker's clerk arrested on his
      return from that city. He has acknowledged that he brought a letter for
      Fouché from Metternich, and that the answer was to be sent at a fixed time
      to Bale, where a man was to wait for the bearer on the bridge: I sent for
      Fouché a few days ago, and kept him three hours long in my garden, hoping
      that in the course of a friendly conversation he would mention that letter
      to me, but he said nothing. At last, yesterday evening, I myself opened
      the subject.' (Here the Emperor repeated to me the words I had heard the
      night before, 'You are a traitor,' etc.) He acknowledged, in fact,
      continued the Emperor, 'that he had received such a letter, but that it
      was not signed and that he had looked upon it as a mystification. He
      showed it me. Now that letter was evidently an answer, in which the writer
      again declared that he would listen to nothing more concerning the
      Emperor, but that, his person excepted, it would be easy to agree to all
      the rest. I expected that the Emperor would conclude his narrative by
      expressing his anger against Fouché, but our conversation turned on some
      other subject, and he talked no more of him.
    
The next day, the Emperor talked to me about the conversation from the night before. "I suspected," he said, "that the scoundrel was in touch with Vienna. I've had a banker's clerk arrested after he returned from that city. He admitted that he brought a letter for Fouché from Metternich, and that the reply was supposed to be sent at a set time to Basel, where someone was to wait for the bearer on the bridge. I called Fouché in a few days ago and kept him in my garden for three hours, hoping that during our friendly chat he would bring up that letter, but he didn’t say anything. Finally, last night, I brought it up myself." (Here, the Emperor repeated to me the words I’d heard the night before, "You are a traitor," etc.) He admitted, in fact, continued the Emperor, "that he had received such a letter, but that it wasn’t signed and he thought of it as a prank. He showed it to me. That letter was clearly a response, in which the writer stated again that he would hear nothing further about the Emperor, but that, except for his person, everything else could be agreed upon easily. I thought the Emperor would end his story by expressing his anger at Fouché, but then our conversation shifted to another topic, and he stopped talking about him.







      "Two days afterwards I went to Fouché to solicit the return to Paris of an
      officer of musqueteers who had been banished far from his family. I found
      him at breakfast, and sat down next to him. Facing him sat a stranger. 'Do
      you see this man?' he said to me; pointing with his spoon to the stranger;
      'he is an aristocrat, a Bourbonist, a Chouan; it is the Abbe ——-,
      one of the editors of the Journal des Debats—a sworn enemy to
      Napoleon, a fanatic partisan of the Bourbons; he is one of our men. I
      looked, at him. At every fresh epithet of the Minister the Abbe bowed his
      head down to his plate with a smile of cheerfulness and self-complacency,
      and with a sort of leer. I never saw a more ignoble countenance. Fouché
      explained to me, on leaving the breakfast table, in what manner all these
      valets of literature were men of his, and while I acknowledged to myself
      that the system might be necessary, I scarcely knew who were really more
      despicable—the wretches who thus sold themselves to the highest
      bidder, or the minister who boasted of having bought them, as if their
      acquisition were a glorious conquest. Judging that the Emperor had spoken
      to me of the scene I have described above, Fouché said to me, 'The
      Emperor's temper is soured by the resistance he finds, and he thinks it is
      my fault. He does not know that I have no power but by public opinion. To
      morrow I might hang before my door twenty persons obnoxious to public
      opinion, though I should not be able to imprison for four-and-twenty hours
      any individual favoured by it. As I am never in a hurry to speak I
      remained silent, but reflecting on what the Emperor had said concerning
      Fouché I found the comparison of their two speeches remarkable. The master
      could have his minister hanged with public applause, and the minister
      could hang—whom? Perhaps the master himself, and with the same
      approbation. What a singular situation!—and I believe they were both
      in the right; so far public opinion, equitable in regard to Fouché, had
      swerved concerning the Emperor."
    
"Two days later, I went to see Fouché to ask for the return to Paris of a musketeer officer who had been exiled far from his family. I found him having breakfast and sat down beside him. Across from us was a stranger. 'Do you see this guy?' he said, pointing with his spoon at the stranger; 'he's an aristocrat, a Bourbonist, a Chouan; it’s the Abbe ——-, one of the editors of the Journal des Débats—he's a sworn enemy of Napoleon and a fanatical supporter of the Bourbons; he's one of our people.' I looked at him. With every new insult from the Minister, the Abbe bowed his head down to his plate, wearing a cheerful and self-satisfied smile, with a bit of a sneer. I had never seen a more despicable face. Fouché explained to me, as we left the breakfast table, how all these literary lackeys were his people, and while I admitted that the system might be necessary, I couldn’t tell who was more contemptible—the scoundrels who sold themselves to the highest bidder, or the minister who boasted about buying them, as if their acquisition was some glorious conquest. Noticing that the Emperor had mentioned the scene I just described, Fouché said to me, 'The Emperor’s mood is souring because of the resistance he encounters, and he thinks it’s my fault. He doesn’t realize that I only have power through public opinion. Tomorrow, I could hang twenty people in front of my door who are unpopular, but I wouldn't be able to imprison anyone favored by it for even twenty-four hours. Since I usually take my time to speak, I stayed quiet, but reflecting on what the Emperor had said about Fouché, I found the contrast between their two statements remarkable. The master could have his minister hanged with public approval, and the minister could hang—who? Perhaps the master himself, also with the same approval. What a strange situation!—and I feel they were both right; so far, public opinion, which was fair regarding Fouché, had shifted against the Emperor."







      The wrath of Napoleon was confined to the Lower House, the Peers, from the
      nature of their composition, being complacent and passive enough. The vast
      majority of them were in fact mere shadows gathered round the solid
      persons of Joseph, Lucien, Louis, and Jerome Bonaparte, and Sieyès,
      Carnot, and the military men of the Revolution. As a political body
      Napoleon despised them himself, and yet he wanted the nation to respect
      them. But respect was impossible, and the volatile Parisians made the
      Peers a constant object of their witticisms. The punsters of Paris made
      the following somewhat ingenious play upon words. Lallemand, Labedogure,
      Drouot, and Ney they called Las Quatre Pairs fides (perfides), which in
      pronunciation may equally mean the four faithful peers or the four
      perfidious men. The infamous Vandamme and another were called
      Pair-siffles, the biased peers, or the biased pair, or (persiffles) men
      made objects of derision. It was thus the lower orders behaved while the
      existence of France was at stake.
    
Napoleon's anger was directed at the Lower House, as the Peers, due to their makeup, were fairly complacent and passive. Most of them were basically just figures floating around the influential Bonaparte brothers—Joseph, Lucien, Louis, and Jerome—as well as Sieyès, Carnot, and the military leaders from the Revolution. Although Napoleon himself looked down on them as a political group, he still wanted the nation to hold them in high regard. However, that respect was impossible, and the easily amused Parisians constantly mocked the Peers. Parisian jokesters came up with a clever wordplay, referring to Lallemand, Labedogure, Drouot, and Ney as Las Quatre Pairs fides (perfides), which sounds alike to mean either the four faithful peers or the four treacherous men. The infamous Vandamme and another were dubbed Pair-siffles, meaning the biased peers or the biased pair, or also a term for men made into targets of ridicule. This is how the lower classes acted while France's very existence hung in the balance.







      By this time the thunder-cloud of war had gathered and was ready to burst.
      Short as the time at his disposal was Napoleon prepared to meet it with
      his accustomed energy. Firearms formed one of the most important objects
      of attention. There were sufficient sabres, but muskets were wanting. The
      Imperial factories could, in ordinary times, furnish monthly 20,000 stands
      of new arms; by the extraordinary activity and inducements offered this
      number was doubled. Workmen were also employed in repairing the old
      muskets. There was displayed at this momentous period the same activity in
      the capital as in 1793, and better directed, though without the same
      ultimate success. The clothing of the army was another difficulty, and
      this was got over by advancing large sums of money to the cloth
      manufacturers beforehand. The contractors delivered 20,000 cavalry horses
      before the 1st of June, 10,000 trained horses had been furnished by the
      dismounted gendarmerie. Twelve thousand artillery horses were also
      delivered by the 1st of June, in addition to 6000 which the army already
      had.
    
By this time, the looming threat of war had gathered and was ready to unleash. Although time was short, Napoleon prepared to face it with his usual determination. Firearms were one of the top priorities. There were enough sabres, but muskets were lacking. Normally, the Imperial factories could produce 20,000 new arms each month, but with the exceptional efforts and incentives offered, that number was doubled. Workers were also engaged in repairing the old muskets. At this critical moment, there was the same level of activity in the capital as in 1793, and it was better organized, though it didn’t achieve the same final success. The army's clothing presented another challenge, which was tackled by advancing large sums of money to the cloth manufacturers in advance. The contractors delivered 20,000 cavalry horses before June 1st, and 10,000 trained horses were provided by the dismounted gendarmerie. Additionally, 12,000 artillery horses were also supplied by June 1st, on top of the 6,000 that the army already had.







      The facility with which the Ministers of Finance and of the Treasury
      provided for all these expenses astonished everybody, as it was necessary
      to pay for everything in ready money. The system of public works was at
      the same time resumed throughout France. "It is easy to see," said the
      workmen, "that 'the great contractor' is returned; all was dead, now
      everything revives."
    
The way the Finance and Treasury Ministers managed all these expenses surprised everyone, especially since everything had to be paid for in cash. The public works system was also restarted across France. "It's clear," said the workers, "that 'the great contractor' is back; everything was dead, and now everything is coming back to life."







      "We have just learnt," says a writer who was at Brussels at this time,
      "that Napoleon had left the capital of France on the 12th; on the 15th the
      frequent arrival of couriers excited extreme anxiety, and towards evening
      General Muffing presented himself at the hotel of the Duke of Wellington
      with despatches from Blücher. We were all aware that the enemy was in
      movement, and the ignorant could not solve the enigma of the Duke going
      tranquilly to the ball at the Duke of Richmond's—his coolness was
      above their comprehension. Had he remained at his own hotel a panic would
      have probably ensued amongst the inhabitants, which would have embarrassed
      the intended movement of the British division of the army.
    
"We just found out," says a writer who was in Brussels at the time, "that Napoleon left the capital of France on the 12th; on the 15th, the constant arrival of couriers created a lot of anxiety, and by evening, General Muffing showed up at the Duke of Wellington's hotel with reports from Blücher. We all knew the enemy was on the move, and those who didn’t understand couldn’t figure out why the Duke was calmly going to the ball at the Duke of Richmond's—his composure was beyond their grasp. If he had stayed at his own hotel, it likely would have caused a panic among the locals, which would have disrupted the planned movement of the British division of the army."







      "I returned home late, and we were still talking over our uneasiness when
      we heard the trumpets sound. Before the sun had risen in full splendour I
      heard martial music approaching, and soon beheld from my windows the 5th
      reserve of the British army passing; the Highland brigade were the first
      in advance, led by their noble thanes, the bagpipes playing their several
      pibrochs; they were succeeded by the 28th, their bugles' note falling more
      blithely upon the ear. Each regiment passed in succession with its band
      playing."
    
"I got home late, and we were still discussing our worries when we heard the sound of trumpets. Before the sun had fully risen, I heard military music coming closer, and soon saw from my windows the 5th reserve of the British army marching by; the Highland brigade was the first in line, led by their noble leaders, with the bagpipes playing their various tunes. They were followed by the 28th, their bugle calls sounding more cheerfully. Each regiment passed by in turn with its band playing."







      The gallant Duke of Brunswick was at a ball at the assembly-rooms in the
      Rue Ducale on the night of the 15th of June when the French guns, which he
      was one of the first to hear, were clearly distinguished at Brussels.
      "Upon receiving the information that a powerful French force was advancing
      in the direction of Charleroi. 'Then it is high time for me to be off,' he
      exclaimed, and immediately quitted, the ball-room."
    
The brave Duke of Brunswick was at a dance event in the assembly rooms on the Rue Ducale on the night of June 15th when he clearly heard the French artillery being fired in Brussels, something he was among the first to notice. "Once I received the news that a strong French army was heading toward Charleroi, I realized it was time for me to leave," he said, and he promptly exited the ballroom.







      "At four the whole disposable force under the Duke of Wellington was
      collected together, but in such haste that many of the officers had no
      time to change their silk stockings and dancing-shoes; and some, quite
      overcome by drowsiness, were seen lying asleep about the ramparts, still
      holding, however, with a firm hand, the reins of their horses, which were
      grazing by their sides.
    
"At four o'clock, the entire available force under the Duke of Wellington was gathered, but it was done in such a rush that many of the officers didn’t have time to change out of their silk stockings and dancing shoes; some were so worn out from sleep that they were found dozing off on the ramparts, still gripping the reins of their horses, which were grazing beside them."







      "About five o'clock the word march' was heard in all directions, and
      instantly the whole mass appeared to move simultaneously. I conversed with
      several of the officers previous to their departure, and not one appeared
      to have the slightest idea of an approaching engagement.
    
"At around five o'clock, the command 'march' echoed in all directions, and instantly the entire group seemed to move all at once. I chatted with several of the officers before they left, and not a single one had any inkling of an upcoming battle."







      "The Duke of Wellington and his staff did not quit Brussels till past
      eleven o'clock, and it was not till some time after they were gone that it
      was generally known the whole French army, including a strong corps of
      cavalry, was within a few miles of Quatre Bras."
    
"The Duke of Wellington and his staff didn't leave Brussels until after eleven o'clock, and it was some time after they left that it became widely known that the entire French army, including a large cavalry unit, was just a few miles from Quatre Bras."








 


 




















      CHAPTER VIII.
    






 —[Like the preceding, this chapter first appeared in the 1836
   edition, and is not from the pen of M. de Bourrienne.]— 
 —[Like the one before it, this chapter first appeared in the 1836 edition and was not written by M. de Bourrienne.]—



      1815. THE BATTLES OF LIGNY AND QUATRE BRAS.
    
1815. THE BATTLES OF LIGNY AND QUATRE BRAS.



      The moment for striking a decisive blow had now come, and accordingly,
      early on the morning of the 15th, the whole of the French army was in
      motion. The 2d corps proceeded to Marchiennes to attack the Prussian
      outposts at Thuin and Lobes, in order to secure the communication across
      the Sambre between those places. The 3d corps, covered by General Pajol's
      cavalry, advanced upon Charleroi, followed by the Imperial Guard and the
      6th corps, with the necessary detachments of pontoniers. The remainder of
      the cavalry, under Grouchy, also advanced upon Charleroi, on the flanks of
      the 3d and 6th corps. The 4th corps was ordered to march upon the bridge
      of Chatelet.
    
The moment to deliver a decisive blow had arrived, and as a result, early on the morning of the 15th, the entire French army was on the move. The 2nd corps headed to Marchiennes to attack the Prussian outposts at Thuin and Lobes, aiming to secure communication across the Sambre between those locations. The 3rd corps, protected by General Pajol's cavalry, advanced towards Charleroi, followed by the Imperial Guard and the 6th corps, along with the necessary detachments of bridge builders. The rest of the cavalry, under Grouchy, also moved towards Charleroi, flanking the 3rd and 6th corps. The 4th corps was tasked with marching towards the Chatelet bridge.







      On the approach of the French advanced guards an incessant skirmish was
      maintained during the whole morning with the Prussians, who, after losing
      many men, were compelled to yield to superior numbers. General Zieten,
      finding it impossible, from the extent of frontier he had to cover, to
      check the advance of the French, fell back towards Fleurus by the road to
      Charleroi, resolutely contesting the advance of the enemy wherever it was
      possible. In the repeated attacks sustained by him he suffered
      considerable loss. It was nearly mid-day before a passage through
      Charleroi was secured by the French army, and General Zieten continued his
      retreat upon Fleurus, where he took up his position for the night. Upon
      Zieten's abandoning, in the course of his retreat, the chaussee which
      leads to Brussels through Quatre Bras, Marshal Ney, who had only just been
      put in command on the left of the French army, was ordered to advance by
      this road upon Gosselies, and found at Frasnes part of the Duke of
      Wellington's army, composed of Nassau troops under the command of Prince
      Bernard of Saxe-Weimar, who, after some skirmishing, maintained his
      position. "Notwithstanding all the exertions of the French at a moment
      when time was of such importance, they had only been able to advance about
      fifteen English miles during the day, with nearly fifteen hours of
      daylight."
    
As the French forward troops approached, there was a continuous skirmish throughout the morning with the Prussians, who, after losing many soldiers, were forced to concede to larger numbers. General Zieten, finding it impossible to halt the French advance due to the vast area he needed to cover, retreated toward Fleurus via the road to Charleroi, resolutely contesting the enemy's progress whenever he could. In the repeated attacks he faced, he suffered significant losses. It was nearly noon before the French army secured a passage through Charleroi, while General Zieten continued his retreat to Fleurus, where he set up his position for the night. When Zieten abandoned the highway leading to Brussels through Quatre Bras during his retreat, Marshal Ney, who had just been given command on the left of the French army, was ordered to advance along this route toward Gosselies. At Frasnes, he encountered part of the Duke of Wellington's army, comprised of Nassau troops under Prince Bernard of Saxe-Weimar, who managed to hold their position after some skirmishing. "Despite all the efforts of the French at a time when every second mattered, they had only managed to advance about fifteen English miles throughout the day, with almost fifteen hours of daylight available."







      It was the intention of Napoleon during his operations on this day to
      effect a separation between the English and Prussian armies, in which he
      had nearly succeeded. Napoleon's plan for this purpose, and the execution
      of it by his army, were alike admirable, but it is hardly probable that
      the Allied generals were taken by surprise, as it was the only likely
      course which Napoleon could have taken. His line of operation was on the
      direct road to Brussels, and there were no fortified works to impede his
      progress, while from the nature of the country his numerous and excellent
      cavalry could be employed with great effect.
    
Napoleon aimed to create a gap between the English and Prussian armies during his operations on this day, and he was close to achieving it. His plan and the way his army carried it out were both impressive, but it’s unlikely that the Allied generals were caught off guard since this was the most obvious strategy Napoleon could pursue. His route of advance was directly toward Brussels, and there were no fortifications to block his movement. Additionally, the terrain allowed his large and skilled cavalry to be used very effectively.







      In the French accounts Marshal Ney was much blamed for not occupying
      Quatre Bras with the whole of his force on the evening of the 16th. "Ney
      might probably have driven back the Nassau troops at Quatre Bras, and
      occupied that important position, but hearing a heavy cannonade on his
      right flank, where General Zieten had taken up his position, he thought it
      necessary to halt and detach a division in the direction of Fleurus. He
      was severely censured by Napoleon for not having literally followed his
      orders and pushed on to Quatre Bras." This accusation forms a curious
      contrast with that made against Grouchy, upon whom Napoleon threw the
      blame of the defeat at Waterloo, because he strictly fulfilled his orders,
      by pressing the Prussians at Wavre, unheeding the cannonade on his left,
      which might have led him to conjecture that the more important contest
      between the Emperor and Wellington was at that moment raging.
    
In the French accounts, Marshal Ney faced a lot of criticism for not sending his entire force to occupy Quatre Bras on the evening of the 16th. "Ney could have potentially pushed back the Nassau troops at Quatre Bras and secured that crucial position, but when he heard heavy cannon fire on his right flank, where General Zieten was stationed, he felt it was necessary to pause and send a division toward Fleurus. Napoleon severely criticized him for not strictly following orders and advancing to Quatre Bras." This criticism contrasts sharply with what was directed at Grouchy, whom Napoleon blamed for the defeat at Waterloo because he followed his orders to pursue the Prussians at Wavre, ignoring the cannon fire on his left that might have suggested a more significant battle was happening between the Emperor and Wellington.







      It was at six o'clock in the evening of the 16th that the Duke of
      Wellington received the first information of the advance of the French
      army; but it was not, however, until ten o'clock that positive news
      reached him that the French army had moved upon the line of the Sambre.
      This information induced him to push forward reinforcements on Quatre
      Bras, at which place he himself arrived at an early hour on the 16th, and
      immediately proceeded to Bry, to devise measures with Marshal Blücher in
      order to combine their efforts. From the movement of considerable masses
      of the French in front of the Prussians it was evident that their first
      grand attack would be directed against them. That this was Napoleon's
      object on the 16th maybe seen by his orders to Ney and Grouchy to turn the
      right of the Prussians, and drive the British from their position at
      Quatre Bras, and then to march down the chaussee upon Bry in order
      effectually to separate the two armies. Ney was accordingly detached for
      this purpose with 43,000 men. In the event of the success of Marshal Ney
      he would have been enabled to detach a portion of his forces for the
      purpose of making a flank attack upon the Prussians in the rear of St.
      Amend, whilst Napoleon in person was directing his main efforts against
      that village the strongest in the Prussian position. Ney's reserve was at
      Frasnes, disposable either for the purpose of supporting the attack on
      Quatre Bras or that at St. Amand; and in case of Ney's complete success to
      turn the Prussian right flank by marching on Bry.
    
At six o'clock in the evening on the 16th, the Duke of Wellington got the first news about the advance of the French army; however, it wasn't until ten o'clock that he received confirmed information that the French army had moved toward the line of the Sambre. This news prompted him to send reinforcements to Quatre Bras, where he arrived early on the 16th and immediately headed to Bry to come up with a plan with Marshal Blücher to coordinate their efforts. The movement of large groups of French troops in front of the Prussians made it clear that their first major attack would target them. Napoleon’s intent on the 16th is evident from his orders to Ney and Grouchy to flank the Prussians on their right, push the British out of their position at Quatre Bras, and then march down the road to Bry to effectively separate the two armies. Ney was sent out for this mission with 43,000 men. If Marshal Ney succeeded, he could have sent part of his forces to carry out a flank attack on the Prussians from behind St. Amand, while Napoleon personally directed his main efforts against that village, the strongest point in the Prussian position. Ney's reserves were stationed at Frasnes, ready to support either the attack on Quatre Bras or the one at St. Amand; and if Ney completely succeeded, he could turn the Prussian right flank by marching on Bry.








 


 




















      CHAPTER IX.
    



      1815 THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO.
    
1815 Battle of Waterloo.



      One of the most important struggles of modern times was now about to
      commence—a struggle which for many years was to decide the fate of
      Europe. Napoleon and Wellington at length stood opposite one another. They
      had never met; the military reputation of each was of the highest kind,
    
One of the most significant struggles of modern times was about to begin—a struggle that would determine the future of Europe for many years. Napoleon and Wellington finally faced each other. They had never met; each had the highest military reputation.






 —[For full details of the Waterloo campaign see Siborne's History
   of the War in France and Belgium in 1815, giving the English
   contemporary account; Chesney's Waterloo Lectures, the best English
   modern account, which has been accepted by the Prussians as pretty
   nearly representing their view; and Waterloo by Lieutenant-Colonel
   Prince Edouard de la Tour d'Auvergne (Paris, Plon, 1870), which may
   be taken as the French modern account.

 —[For full details of the Waterloo campaign, see Siborne's History of the War in France and Belgium in 1815, which provides the English contemporary account; Chesney's Waterloo Lectures, the best modern English account that has been widely accepted by the Prussians as accurately reflecting their perspective; and Waterloo by Lieutenant-Colonel Prince Edouard de la Tour d'Auvergne (Paris, Plon, 1870), which can be considered the modern French account.






   In judging this campaign the reader must guard himself from looking
   on it as fought by two different armies-the English and the
   Prussian-whose achievements are to be weighed against one another.
   Wellington and Blücher were acting in a complete unison rare even
   when two different corps of the same nation are concerned, but
   practically unexampled in the case of two armies of different
   nations. Thus the two forces became one army, divided into two
   wings, one, the left (or Prussian wing) having been defeated by the
   main body of the French at Ligny on the 16th of June, the right (or
   English wing) retreated to hold the position at Waterloo, where the
   left (or Prussian wing) was to join it, and the united force was to
   crush the enemy. Thus there is no question as to whether the
   Prussian army saved the English by their arrival, or whether the
   English saved the Prussians by their resistance at Waterloo. Each
   army executed well and gallantly its part in a concerted operation.
   The English would never have fought at Waterloo if they had not
   relied on the arrival of the Prussians. Had the Prussians not come
   up on the afternoon of the 18th of June the English would have been
   exposed to the same great peril of having alone to deal with the
   mass of the French army, as the Prussians would have had to face if
   they had found the English in full retreat. To investigate the
   relative performances of the two armies is much the same as to
   decide the respective merits of the two Prussian armies at Sadowa,
   where one held the Austrians until the other arrived. Also in
   reading the many interesting personal accounts of the campaign it
   most be remembered that opinions about the chance of success in a
   defensive struggle are apt to warp with the observer's position, as
   indeed General Grant has remarked in answer to criticisms on his
   army's state at the end of the first day of the battle of Shiloh or
   Pittsburg Landing. The man placed in the front rank or fighting
   line sees attack after attack beaten off. He sees only part of his
   own losses, and most of the wounded disappear, and he also knows
   something of the enemy's loss by seeing the dead in front of him.
   Warmed by the contest, he thus believes in success. The man placed
   in rear or advancing with reinforcements, having nothing of the
   excitement of the struggle, sees only the long and increasing column
   of wounded, stragglers, and perhaps of fliers. He sees his
   companion fall without being able to answer the fire. He sees
   nothing of the corresponding loss of the enemy, and he is apt to
   take a most desponding view of the situation. Thus Englishmen
   reading the accounts of men who fought at Waterloo are too ready to
   disbelieve representations of what was taking place in the rear of
   the army, and to think Thackeray's life-like picture in Vanity Fair
   of the state of Brussels must be overdrawn. Indeed, in this very
   battle of Waterloo, Zieten began to retreat when his help was most
   required, because one of his aides de camp told him that the right
   wing of the English was in full retreat. "This inexperienced young
   man," says Muffling, p. 248, "had mistaken the great number of
   wounded going, or being taken, to the rear to be dressed, for
   fugitives, and accordingly made a false report." Further, reserves
   do not say much of their part or, sometimes, no part of the fight,
   and few people know that at least two English regiments actually
   present on the field of Waterloo hardly fired a shot till the last
   advance.

   The Duke described the army as the worst he ever commanded, and said
   that if he had had his Peninsular men, the fight would have been
   over much sooner. But the Duke, sticking to ideas now obsolete, had
   no picked corps. Each man, trusting in and trusted by his comrades,
   fought under his own officers and under his own regimental colours.
   Whatever they did not know, the men knew how to die, and at the end
   of the day a heap of dead told where each regiment and battery had
   stood.]— 
   When judging this campaign, the reader should avoid viewing it as a battle between two separate armies—the English and the Prussian—where their achievements are compared against each other. Wellington and Blücher were working together in a way that's rare even among different corps of the same nation, but practically unheard of when it involves armies from different nations. As a result, the two forces acted as one army, divided into two wings. The left wing (the Prussian) had been defeated by the main body of the French at Ligny on June 16, while the right wing (the English) retreated to maintain their position at Waterloo, where the left wing was expected to join them. Together, they aimed to defeat the enemy. Therefore, it isn't a question of whether the Prussian army saved the English by arriving, or whether the English saved the Prussians by holding at Waterloo. Each army performed its role gallantly in a coordinated effort. The English wouldn't have fought at Waterloo if they hadn't relied on the Prussians coming. If the Prussians hadn't arrived on the afternoon of June 18, the English would have faced the formidable task of dealing alone with the French army, just as the Prussians would have if they had found the English in full retreat. Evaluating the performances of the two armies is similar to assessing the two Prussian armies at Sadowa, where one held the Austrians until the other arrived. Also, while reading the many compelling personal accounts of the campaign, it’s important to remember that opinions on the likelihood of success in a defensive fight can be influenced by one’s position, as General Grant noted in response to critiques of his army's condition at the end of the first day of the Battle of Shiloh or Pittsburgh Landing. The soldier on the front line witnesses attacks being repelled repeatedly. He only sees part of his own losses, while many of the wounded are taken away, and he has some awareness of the enemy's losses from seeing the dead nearby. Fired up by the battle, he thus believes in victory. In contrast, the person in the rear or moving forward with reinforcements, lacking the adrenaline of the fight, only sees a growing column of wounded, stragglers, and maybe even fleeing soldiers. He watches his comrades fall without being able to return fire. He notices none of the corresponding enemy losses and often develops a very negative view of the situation. Thus, English readers considering accounts from those who fought at Waterloo are quick to dismiss depictions of what was occurring behind the army, assuming Thackeray's vivid portrayal in Vanity Fair of the state of Brussels must be exaggerated. Indeed, during the battle of Waterloo, Zieten started to retreat when his assistance was most needed because one of his aides mistakenly reported that the English right wing was in full retreat. "This inexperienced young man," Muffling states, "had mistaken the many wounded being taken to the rear for fugitives, leading to a false report." Additionally, troops in reserve often do not communicate much, or at all, about their involvement in the fight, and few realize that at least two English regiments present on the field of Waterloo hardly fired a shot until the final advance.

   The Duke described the army as the worst he had ever commanded and remarked that if he had his Peninsular troops, the battle would have been over much sooner. However, the Duke, clinging to now outdated concepts, had no elite corps. Each soldier, relying on and being relied upon by his comrades, fought under his own officers and regimental colors. Whatever else they might not have known, the men knew how to die, and by the end of the day, a pile of dead marked where each regiment and battery had stood.







      the career of both had been marked by signal victory; Napoleon had carried
      his triumphant legions across the stupendous Alps, over the north of
      Italy, throughout Prussia, Austria, Russia, and even to the foot of the
      Pyramids, while Wellington, who had been early distinguished in India, had
      won immortal renown in the Peninsula, where he had defeated, one after
      another, the favourite generals of Napoleon. He was now to make trial of
      his prowess against their Master.
    
The careers of both were marked by significant victories; Napoleon had led his victorious armies across the impressive Alps, throughout northern Italy, Prussia, Austria, Russia, and even to the base of the Pyramids, while Wellington, who had first made a name for himself in India, had earned lasting fame in the Peninsula, where he defeated, one after another, Napoleon's favored generals. He was now set to test his skills against their Master.







      Among the most critical events of modern times the battle of Waterloo
      stands conspicuous. This sanguinary encounter at last stopped the torrent
      of the ruthless and predatory ambition of the French, by which so many
      countries had been desolated. With the peace which immediately succeeded
      it confidence was restored to Europe.
    
Among the most important events of modern times, the battle of Waterloo stands out. This bloody conflict finally halted the relentless and greedy ambition of the French, which had devastated so many countries. With the peace that followed, confidence was restored to Europe.








 


 




















      CHAPTER X.
    



      1815
    
1815


   Interview with Lavallette—Proceedings in the French Chambers—
   Second abdication of Napoleon—He retires to Rochefort, negotiates
   with Captain Maitland, and finally embarks in the 'Bellerophon'.

   Interview with Lavallette—Proceedings in the French Chambers—
   Second abdication of Napoleon—He retreats to Rochefort, talks
   with Captain Maitland, and finally boards the 'Bellerophon'.







      One of the first public men to see Napoleon after his return from Waterloo
      was Lavallette. "I flew," says he, "to the Elysee to see the Emperor: he
      summoned me into his closet, and as soon as he saw me, he came to meet me
      with a frightful epileptic 'laugh. 'Oh, my God!' he said, raising his eyes
      to heaven, and walking two or three times up and down the room. This
      appearance of despair was however very short. He soon recovered his
      coolness, and asked me what was going forward in the Chamber of
      Representatives. I could not attempt to hide that party spirit was there
      carried to a high pitch, and that the majority seemed determined to
      require his abdication, and to pronounce it themselves if he did not
      concede willingly. 'How is that?' he said. 'If proper measures are not
      taken the enemy will be before the gates of Paris in eight days. Alas!' he
      added, 'have I accustomed them to such great victories that they knew not
      how to bear one day's misfortune? What will become of poor France? I have
      done all I could for her!' He then heaved a deep sigh. Somebody asked to
      speak to him, and I left him, with a direction to come back at a later
      hour.
    
One of the first public figures to see Napoleon after his return from Waterloo was Lavallette. "I rushed," he says, "to the Elysee to see the Emperor: he called me into his private room, and as soon as he saw me, he came toward me with a terrifying, epilepsy-like 'laugh.' 'Oh, my God!' he exclaimed, looking up to the heavens and pacing back and forth a few times. This display of despair was, however, very brief. He quickly regained his composure and asked me what was happening in the Chamber of Representatives. I couldn't hide the fact that party tensions were running high, and the majority seemed determined to demand his abdication, declaring it themselves if he didn't agree willingly. 'How is that possible?' he asked. 'If proper measures aren't taken, the enemy will be at the gates of Paris in eight days. Alas!' he added, 'Have I trained them to expect such great victories that they can't handle even one day's misfortune? What will become of poor France? I've done everything I could for her!' He then let out a deep sigh. Someone asked to speak with him, and I left, instructed to return later.







      "I passed the day in seeking information among all my friends and
      acquaintances. I found in all of them either the greatest dejection or an
      extravagant joy, which they disguised by feigned alarm and pity for
      myself, which I repulsed with great indignation. Nothing favourable was to
      be expected from the Chamber of Representatives. They all said they wished
      for liberty, but, between two enemies who appeared ready to destroy it,
      they preferred the foreigners, the friends of the Bourbons, to Napoleon,
      who might still have prolonged the struggle, but that he alone would not
      find means to save them and erect the edifice of liberty. The Chamber of
      Peers presented a much sadder spectacle. Except the intrepid Thibaudeau,
      who till, the last moment expressed himself with admirable energy against
      the Bourbons, almost all the others thought of nothing else but getting
      out of the dilemma with the least loss they could. Some took no pains to
      hide their wish of bending again under the Bourbon yoke."
    
I spent the day trying to gather information from all my friends and acquaintances. I found that they were either extremely downcast or overly joyful, which they masked with fake worry and sympathy for me, which I rejected with anger. There was nothing positive to expect from the Chamber of Representatives. They all claimed to want freedom, but between two enemies ready to dismantle it, they preferred the foreigners, the supporters of the Bourbons, to Napoleon, who might still have extended the fight but wouldn't be able to save them or build the structure of liberty alone. The Chamber of Peers showed an even more depressing scene. Except for the brave Thibaudeau, who until the very end spoke out with impressive strength against the Bourbons, nearly everyone else was only focused on finding a way out of the situation with the least damage possible. Some didn’t even bother to hide their desire to once again submit under Bourbon rule.







      On the evening of Napoleon's return to Paris he sent for Benjamin Constant
      to come to him at the Elysee about seven o'clock. The Chambers had decreed
      their permanence, and proposals for abdication had reached the Emperor. He
      was serious but calm. In reply to some words on the disaster of Waterloo
      he said, "The question no longer concerns me, but France. They wish me to
      abdicate. Have they calculated upon the inevitable consequences of this
      abdication? It is round me, round my name, that the army rallies: to
      separate me from it is to disband it. If I abdicate to-day, in two days'
      time you will no longer have an army. These poor fellows do not understand
      all your subtleties. Is it believed that axioms in metaphysics,
      declarations of right, harangues from the tribune, will put a stop to the
      disbanding of an army? To reject me when I landed at Cannes I can conceive
      possible; to abandon me now is what I do not understand. It is not when
      the enemy is at twenty-five leagues' distance that any Government can be
      overturned with impunity. Does any one imagine that the Foreign Powers
      will be won over by fine words? If they had dethroned me fifteen days ago
      there would have been some spirit in it; but as it is, I make part of what
      strangers attack, I make part, then, of what France is bound to defend. In
      giving me up she gives up herself, she avows her weakness, she
      acknowledges herself conquered, she courts the insolence of the conqueror.
      It is not the love of liberty which deposes me, but Waterloo; it is fear,
      and a fear of which your enemies will take advantage. And then what title
      has the Chamber to demand my abdication? It goes out of its lawful sphere
      in doing so; it has no authority. It is my right, it is my duty to
      dissolve it."
    
On the evening of Napoleon's return to Paris, he called for Benjamin Constant to meet him at the Elysee around seven o'clock. The Chambers had declared their permanence, and proposals for abdication had reached the Emperor. He was serious but calm. In response to some comments about the disaster at Waterloo, he said, "The issue no longer concerns me, but France. They want me to abdicate. Have they considered the inevitable consequences of this abdication? It is around me, around my name, that the army rallies: separating me from it is like disbanding it. If I abdicate today, in two days’ time you will no longer have an army. These poor guys don’t understand all your subtleties. Do you think that principles in metaphysics, declarations of rights, or speeches from the tribune will stop the disbanding of an army? I can understand rejecting me when I landed at Cannes; but abandoning me now is something I don’t get. It’s not when the enemy is twenty-five leagues away that any government can be overthrown without consequences. Does anyone really think that the Foreign Powers will be swayed by nice words? If they had dethroned me fifteen days ago, there would have been some reasoning behind it; but now, I am part of what outsiders are attacking, I am, therefore, part of what France is obliged to defend. By giving me up, she gives up on herself, she admits her weakness, she acknowledges she is conquered, she invites the conqueror’s insolence. It’s not the love of freedom that is deposing me, but Waterloo; it’s fear, and a kind of fear that your enemies will exploit. And what right does the Chamber have to demand my abdication? It oversteps its lawful authority by doing so; it has no power. It is my right, it is my duty to dissolve it."







      "He then hastily ran over the possible consequences of such a step.
      Separated from the Chambers, he could only be considered as a military
      chief: but the army would be for him; that would always join him who can
      lead it against foreign banners, and to this might be added all that part
      of the population which is equally powerful and easily, led in such a
      state of things. As if chance intended to strengthen Napoleon in this
      train of thought, while he was speaking the avenue of Marigny resounded
      with the cries of 'Vive l'Empereur!' A crowd of men, chiefly of the poor
      and labouring class, pressed forward into the avenue, full of wild
      enthusiasm, and trying to scale the walls to make an offer to Napoleon to
      rally round and defend him. Bonaparte for some time looked attentively at
      this group. 'You see it is so,' said he; 'those are not the men whom I
      have loaded with honours and riches. What do these people owe me? I found
      them—I left them—poor. The instinct of necessity enlightens
      them; the voice of the country speaks by their months; and if I choose, if
      I permit it, in an hour the refractory Chambers will have ceased to exist.
      But the life of a man is not worth purchasing at such a price: I did not
      return from the Isle of Elba that Paris should be inundated with blood: He
      did not like the idea of flight.' 'Why should I not stay here?' he
      repeated. 'What do you suppose they would do to a man disarmed like me? I
      will go to Malmaison: I can live there in retirement with some friends,
      who most certainly will come to see me only for my own sake.'
    
He quickly ran through the possible outcomes of such a decision. Separated from the Chambers, he could only be seen as a military leader; however, the army would support him, as they would always rally behind someone who can lead them against foreign forces. Additionally, he could count on a significant part of the population that is strong and easily influenced in situations like this. As if fate wanted to reinforce Napoleon's thoughts, he heard the shouts of 'Vive l'Empereur!' echoing down the avenue of Marigny. A crowd of mostly poor and working-class men surged into the avenue, full of fervor, trying to climb the walls to offer Napoleon their support and defend him. Bonaparte observed this group for a while. 'See? It’s true,' he said; 'those aren’t the people I’ve honored and enriched. What do they owe me? I found them—I left them—poor. Their instinct for survival guides them; the voice of the country speaks through them; and if I choose, if I allow it, in an hour the rebellious Chambers will be gone. But the life of a man isn’t worth that cost: I didn’t return from the Isle of Elba for Paris to be flooded with blood.' He was not keen on the idea of fleeing. 'Why shouldn’t I stay here?' he repeated. 'What do you think they would do to a defenseless man like me? I’ll go to Malmaison; I can live there in solitude with some friends who will certainly visit me just for my sake.'







      "He then described with complacency and even with a sort of gaiety this
      new kind of life. Afterwards, discarding an idea which sounded like mere
      irony, he went on. 'If they do not like me to remain in France, where am I
      to go? To England? My abode there would be ridiculous or disquieting. I
      should be tranquil; no one would believe it. Every fog would be suspected
      of concealing my landing on the coast. At the first sign of a green coat
      getting out of a boat one party would fly from France, the other would put
      France out of the pale of the law. I should compromise everybody, and by
      dint of the repeated "Behold he comes!" I should feel the temptation to
      set out. America would be more suitable; I could live there with dignity.
      But once more, what is there to fear? What sovereign can, without injuring
      himself, persecute me? To one I have restored half his dominions; how
      often has the other pressed my hand, calling me a great man! And as to the
      third, can he find pleasure or honour in humiliation of his son-in-law?
      Would they wish to proclaim in the face of the world that all they did was
      through fear? As to the rest, I shall see: I do not wish to employ open
      force. I came in the hope of combining our last resources: they abandoned
      me; they do so with the same facility with which they received me back.
      Well, then, let them efface, if possible, this double stain of weakness
      and levity! Let them cover it over with some sacrifice, with some glory!
      Let them do for the country what they will not do for me. I doubt it.
      To-day, those who deliver up Bonaparte say that it is to save France:
      to-morrow, by delivering up France, they will prove that it was to save
      their own heads.'"
    
"He then described this new kind of life with a sense of pride and even a bit of cheer. After dismissing a thought that seemed merely sarcastic, he continued. 'If they don’t want me to stay in France, where am I supposed to go? To England? My life there would look absurd or alarming. I should be at peace; no one would believe it. Every fog would raise suspicions about my landing on the coast. At the first sight of someone in a green coat getting out of a boat, one group would flee France, while the other would render France outside the law. I would put everyone at risk, and with the constant “Look, he’s coming!” I’d feel tempted to leave. America would be a better option; I could live there with dignity. But again, what is there to fear? What ruler can persecute me without hurting himself? I’ve restored half of one ruler’s territory; how often has another one shaken my hand, calling me a great man! And as for the third, can he take pleasure or pride in humiliating his son-in-law? Would they really want to show the world that everything they did was out of fear? As for the rest, I’ll see: I don’t wish to use outright force. I came hoping to bring together our last resources: they abandoned me; they do so as easily as they welcomed me back. Well then, let them try to erase, if they can, this dual mark of weakness and frivolity! Let them cover it up with some sacrifice, with some glory! Let them do for the country what they won’t do for me. I doubt it. Today, those who betray Bonaparte claim it’s to save France: tomorrow, by betraying France, they’ll show it was really to save their own necks.'"







      The humiliating scenes which rapidly succeeded one another; and which
      ended in Napoleon's unconditional surrender, may be briefly told. As soon
      as possible after his arrival at Paris he assembled his counsellors, when
      he declared himself in favour of still resisting. The question, however,
      was, whether the Chambers would support him; and Lafayette being
      treacherously informed, it is said by Fouché, that it was intended to
      dissolve the Chambers, used his influence to get the chambers to adopt the
      propositions he laid before them. By these the independence of the nation
      was asserted to be in danger; the sittings of the Chamber were declared
      permanent, and all attempts to dissolve it were pronounced treasonable.
      The propositions were adopted, and being communicated to the Chamber of
      Peers, that body also declared itself permanent. Whatever might have been
      the intentions of Bonaparte, it was now manifest that there were no longer
      any hopes of his being able to make his will the law of the nation; after
      some vacillation, therefore, on 22d June he published the following
      declaration:
    
The embarrassing events that quickly unfolded, leading to Napoleon's complete surrender, can be summarized. Shortly after arriving in Paris, he gathered his advisors and expressed his desire to continue fighting. The real question, however, was whether the Chambers would back him. Lafayette, who was reportedly tipped off by Fouché about a plan to dissolve the Chambers, used his influence to persuade them to accept the proposals he presented. These proposals stated that the nation's independence was at risk; the Chamber's sessions were to be deemed permanent, and any attempts to dissolve it were labeled treasonous. The proposals were approved, and when communicated to the Chamber of Peers, they also declared themselves permanent. Regardless of Bonaparte's intentions, it became clear that he could no longer impose his will as the law of the nation. After some hesitation, on June 22nd, he issued the following declaration:






              TO THE FRENCH PEOPLE

   FRENCHMEN!—In commencing war for maintaining the national
   independence, I relied on the union of all efforts, of all wills,
   and the concurrence of all the national authorities. I had reason
   to hope for success, and I braved all the declarations of the powers
   against me. Circumstances appear to me changed. I offer myself a
   sacrifice to the hatred of the enemies of France. May they prove
   sincere in their declarations, and really have directed them only
   against my power. My political life is terminated, and I proclaim
   my son under the title of:

               NAPOLEON II.,

             EMPEROR OF THE FRENCH.

   The present Ministers will provisionally form the Council of the
   Government. The interest which I take in my son induces me to
   invite the Chambers to form without delay the Regency by a law.
   Unite all for the public safety, that you may continue an
   independent nation.
                  (Signed)   NAPOLEON.

              TO THE FRENCH PEOPLE

   FRENCHMEN! — As I start this war to protect our national independence, I counted on everyone coming together, all of us working toward a common goal, and the support of all our national leaders. I genuinely believed we could succeed, and I faced all the opposing forces with courage. But now, the situation seems different. I am prepared to be a sacrifice to the hatred directed at France’s enemies. I hope they are truthful in their claims and are truly focused on my power alone. My political career has come to an end, and I declare my son under the title of:

               NAPOLEON II.,

             EMPEROR OF THE FRENCH.

   The current Ministers will temporarily make up the Council of the Government. My concern for my son leads me to urge the Chambers to quickly establish the Regency through a law. Come together for the sake of public safety, so that you can remain an independent nation.
                  (Signed)   NAPOLEON.







      This declaration was conveyed to both the Chambers, which voted
      deputations to the late Emperor, accepting this abdication, but in their
      debates the nomination of his son to the succession was artfully eluded.
      The Chamber of Representatives voted the nomination of a Commission of
      five persons, three to be chosen from that Chamber, and two from the
      Chamber of Peers, for the purpose of provisionally exercising the
      functions of Government, and also that the Ministers should continue their
      respective functions under the authority of this Commission. The persons
      chosen by the Chamber of Representatives were Carnot, Fouché, and Grenier,
      those nominated by the Peers were the Duke of Vicenza (Caulaincourt) and
      Baron Quinette. The Commission nominated five persons to the Allied army
      for the purpose of proposing peace. These proceedings were, however,
      rendered of little importance by the resolution of the victors to advance
      to Paris.
    
This declaration was shared with both chambers, which sent representatives to the late Emperor to accept this abdication, but during their discussions, the proposal for his son to take over was cleverly avoided. The Chamber of Representatives approved the formation of a Commission made up of five people, three chosen from that Chamber and two from the Chamber of Peers, to temporarily take on governmental duties, and they decided that the Ministers would continue their roles under the authority of this Commission. The representatives chosen by the Chamber of Representatives were Carnot, Fouché, and Grenier, while the Peers selected the Duke of Vicenza (Caulaincourt) and Baron Quinette. The Commission also appointed five individuals to the Allied army to seek peace. However, these actions were mostly insignificant because the victors had decided to move toward Paris.







      Napoleon's behaviour just before and immediately after the crisis is well
      described by Lavallette. "The next day," he observes, "I returned to the
      Emperor. He had received the most positive accounts of the state of
      feeling in the Chamber of Representatives. The reports had, however, been
      given to him with some little reserve, for he did not seem to me convinced
      that the resolution was really formed to pronounce his abdication, I was
      better informed on the matter, and I came to him without having the least
      doubt in my mind that the only thing he could do was to descend once more
      from the throne. I communicated to him all the particulars I had just
      received, and I did not hesitate to advise him to follow the only course
      worthy of him. He listened to me with a sombre air, and though he was in
      some measure master of himself, the agitation of his mind and the sense of
      his position betrayed themselves in his face and in all his motions. 'I
      know,' said I, 'that your Majesty may still keep the sword drawn, but with
      whom, and against whom? Defeat has chilled the courage of every one; the
      army is still in the greatest confusion. Nothing is to be expected from
      Paris, and the coup d'etat of the 18th Brumaire cannot be renewed.'—'That
      thought,' he replied, stopping, 'is far from my mind. I will hear nothing
      more about myself. But poor France!' At that moment Savary and
      Caulaincourt entered, and having drawn a faithful picture of the
      exasperation of the Deputies, they persuaded him to assent to abdication.
      Some words he uttered proved to us that he would have considered death
      preferable to that step; but still he took it.
    
Napoleon's behavior just before and right after the crisis is well described by Lavallette. "The next day," he notes, "I went back to the Emperor. He had received strong reports about the feelings in the Chamber of Representatives. However, these reports were given to him with some hesitation, as he didn't seem fully convinced that the decision to make him abdicate was truly set. I was better informed on the subject and approached him without any doubt that the only thing left for him to do was to step down from the throne again. I shared all the details I had just received and confidently advised him to take the only dignified path. He listened to me with a serious expression, and though he was somewhat in control of himself, the turmoil in his mind and awareness of his situation showed on his face and in his movements. 'I know,' I said, 'that your Majesty could still keep the sword drawn, but against whom? Defeat has dampened everyone’s courage; the army is in utter chaos. Nothing can be expected from Paris, and a coup like the 18th Brumaire can't happen again.'—'That thought,' he replied, pausing, 'is far from my mind. I won't hear any more about myself. But poor France!' At that moment, Savary and Caulaincourt entered, and after accurately depicting the anger of the Deputies, they convinced him to agree to abdication. Some words he spoke indicated that he would have preferred death over that decision; yet, he still went through with it."







      "The great act of abdication being performed, he remained calm during the
      whole day, giving his advice on the position the army should take, and on
      the manner in which the negotiations with the enemy ought to be conducted.
      He insisted especially on the necessity of proclaiming his son Emperor,
      not so much for the advantage of the child as with a view to concentrate
      all the power of sentiments and affections. Unfortunately, nobody would
      listen to him. Some men of sense and courage rallied found that
      proposition in the two Chambers, but fear swayed the majority; and among
      those who remained free from it many thought that a public declaration of
      liberty, and the resolution to defend it at any price, would make the
      enemy and the Bourbons turn back. Strange delusion of weakness and want of
      experience! It must, however, be respected, for it had its source in love
      of their country; but, while we excuse it, can it be justified? The
      population of the metropolis had resumed its usual appearance, which was
      that of complete indifference, with a resolution to cry 'Long live the
      King!' provided the King arrived well escorted; for one must not judge of
      the whole capital by about one-thirtieth part of the inhabitants, who
      called for arms, and declared themselves warmly against the return of the
      exiled family.
    
Once the great act of abdication was done, he stayed calm throughout the day, offering his advice on the army's position and how negotiations with the enemy should proceed. He particularly stressed the need to declare his son as Emperor, not just for the boy's benefit but to unify all feelings and loyalties. Unfortunately, no one would listen to him. A few sensible and brave men supported that idea in the two Chambers, but fear influenced the majority; among those who felt free from it, many believed that a public declaration of liberty and a commitment to defend it at all costs would force the enemy and the Bourbons to retreat. It was a strange misconception born from weakness and inexperience! Still, it deserved respect because it stemmed from their love for their country; but while we can excuse it, can it really be justified? The people in the capital had gone back to their usual attitude of complete indifference, ready to shout 'Long live the King!' as long as the King arrived safely escorted; after all, one shouldn't judge the entire capital by just one-thirtieth of its population, who called for arms and expressed strong opposition to the return of the exiled family.







      "On the 23d I returned to the Elysee. The Emperor had been for two hours
      in his bath. He himself turned the discourse on the retreat he ought to
      choose, and spoke of the United States. I rejected the idea without
      reflection, and with a degree of vehemence that surprised him. 'Why not
      America?' he asked. I answered, 'Because Moreau retired there.' The
      observation was harsh, and I should never have forgiven myself for having
      expressed it; if I had not retracted my advice a few days afterwards. He
      heard it without any apparent ill-humour, but I have no doubt that it must
      have made an unfavourable impression on his mind. I strongly urged on his
      choosing England for his asylum.
    
"On the 23rd, I went back to the Elysee. The Emperor had been in his bath for two hours. He himself brought up the topic of the retreat he should choose and mentioned the United States. I dismissed the idea without thinking and with such intensity that it surprised him. 'Why not America?' he asked. I replied, 'Because Moreau retired there.' The comment was harsh, and I would never have forgiven myself for saying it if I hadn’t taken back my advice a few days later. He took it without any visible annoyance, but I’m sure it left a negative impression on him. I strongly pushed for him to choose England as his place of refuge."







      "The Emperor went to Malmaison. He was accompanied thither by the Duchesse
      de St. Leu, Bertrand and his family, and the Duc de Bassano. The day that
      he arrived there he proposed to me to accompany him abroad. Drouot,' he
      said, 'remains in France. I see the Minister of War wishes him not to be
      lost to his country. I dare not complain, but it is a great loss for me; I
      never met with a better head, or a more upright heart. That man was formed
      to be a prime minister anywhere.' I declined to accompany him at the time,
      saying, 'My wife is enceinte; I cannot make up my mind to leave her. Allow
      me some time, and I will join you wherever you may be. I have remained
      faithful to your Majesty in better times, and you may reckon upon me now.
      Nevertheless, if my wife did not require all my attention, I should do
      better to go with you, for I have sad forebodings respecting my fate."
    
The Emperor went to Malmaison. He was joined there by the Duchess of St. Leu, Bertrand and his family, and the Duke of Bassano. On the day he arrived, he asked me to go with him abroad. "Drouot," he said, "is staying in France. I see the Minister of War doesn't want him to be lost to his country. I shouldn't complain, but it’s a big loss for me; I’ve never met anyone with a better mind or a more honest heart. That man was meant to be a prime minister anywhere." I turned down his offer at that time, saying, "My wife is pregnant; I can’t bring myself to leave her. Give me some time, and I’ll join you wherever you are. I’ve stayed loyal to your Majesty in better times, and you can count on me now. However, if my wife didn’t need all my attention, I’d be better off going with you, because I have a bad feeling about my fate."







      "The Emperor made no answer; but I saw by the expression of his
      countenance that he had no better augury of my fate than I had. However,
      the enemy was approaching, and for the last three days he had solicited
      the Provisional Government to place a frigate at his disposal, with which
      he might proceed to America. It had been promised him; he was even pressed
      to set off; but he wanted to be the bearer of the order to the captain to
      convey him to the United States, and that order did not arrive. We all
      felt that the delay of a single hour might put his freedom in jeopardy.
    
The Emperor didn't reply, but I could tell from the look on his face that he had no better idea of my fate than I did. Still, the enemy was getting closer, and for the last three days, he had been asking the Provisional Government to provide a frigate so he could go to America. They promised him one; in fact, they urged him to leave right away. But he wanted to personally deliver the order to the captain to take him to the United States, and that order hadn't come yet. We all felt that even a single hour's delay could put his freedom at risk.







      "After we had talked the subject over among ourselves, I went to him and
      strongly pointed out to him how dangerous it might be to prolong his stay.
      He observed that he could not go without the order. 'Depart,
      nevertheless,' I replied; your presence on board the ship will still have
      a great influence over Frenchmen; cut the cables, promise money to the
      crew, and if the captain resist have him put on shore, and hoist your
      sails. I have no doubt but Fouché has sold you to the Allies.'— 'I
      believe it also; but go and make the last effort with the Minister of
      Marine.' I went off immediately to M. Decres. He was in bed, and listened
      to me with an indifference that made my blood boil. He said to me, 'I am
      only a Minister. Go to Fouché; speak to the Government. As for me, I can
      do nothing. Good-night.' And so saying he covered himself up again in his
      blankets. I left him; but I could not succeed in speaking either to Fouché
      or to any of the others. It was two o'clock in the morning when I returned
      to Malmaison; the Emperor was in bed. I was admitted to his chamber, where
      I gave him an account of the result of my mission, and renewed my
      entreaties. He listened to me, but made no answer. He got up, however, and
      spent a part of the night in walking up and down the room.
    
"After we had discussed the issue among ourselves, I went to him and strongly pointed out how risky it could be to extend his stay. He noted that he couldn’t leave without an order. 'Still, you should go,' I replied; your presence on board the ship will still greatly affect the French; cut the ropes, offer money to the crew, and if the captain resists, have him put ashore, and set sail. I have no doubt that Fouché has sold you to the Allies.'— 'I think so too; but go and make one last effort with the Minister of Marine.' I went straight to M. Decres. He was in bed and listened to me with an indifference that made my blood boil. He said, 'I’m just a Minister. Go to Fouché; talk to the Government. As for me, I can’t do anything. Goodnight.' And with that, he covered himself with his blankets again. I left him, but I wasn’t able to talk to either Fouché or anyone else. It was two o’clock in the morning when I got back to Malmaison; the Emperor was in bed. I was let into his chamber, where I informed him about the outcome of my mission and reiterated my pleas. He listened but didn’t respond. However, he got up and spent part of the night pacing the room."







      "The following day was the last of that sad drama. The Emperor had gone to
      bed again, and slept a few hours. I entered his cabinet at about twelve
      o'clock. 'If I had known you were here,' he said, 'I would have had you
      called in.' He then gave me, on a subject that interested him personally,
      some instructions which it is needless for me to repeat. Soon after I left
      him, full of anxiety respecting his fate, my heart oppressed with grief,
      but still far from suspecting the extent to which both the rigour of
      fortune and the cruelty of his enemies would be carried."
    
"The next day was the final act of that tragic story. The Emperor had gone to bed again and had slept for a few hours. I entered his office around noon. 'If I had known you were here,' he said, 'I would have had you brought in.' He then gave me some instructions about a subject that personally interested him, which I don’t need to repeat. Shortly after I left him, feeling anxious about his fate, my heart heavy with sorrow, but still completely unaware of how far both the harshness of fate and the malice of his enemies would go."







      All the morning of the 29th of June the great road from St. Germain rung
      with the cries of "Vive l'Empereur!" proceeding from the troops who passed
      under the walls of Malmaison. About mid-day General Becker, sent by the
      Provisional Government, arrived. He had been appointed to attend Napoleon.
      Fouché knew that General Becker had grievances against the Emperor, and
      thought to find in him willing agent. He was greatly deceived, for the
      General paid to the Emperor a degree of respect highly to his honour. Time
      now became pressing. The Emperor, at the moment of departure, sent a
      message by General Becker himself to the Provisional Government, offering
      to march as a private citizen at the head of the troops. He promised to
      repulse Blücher, and afterwards to continue his route. Upon the refusal of
      the Provisional Government he quitted Malmaison on the 29th. Napoleon and
      part of his suite took the road to Rochefort. He slept at Rambouillet on
      the 29th of June, on the 30th at Tours, on the 1st of July he arrived at
      Niort, and on the 3d reached Rochefort, on the western coast of France,
      with the intention of escaping to America; but the whole western seaboard
      was so vigilantly watched by British men-of-war that, after various plans
      and devices, he was obliged to abandon the attempt in despair. He was
      lodged at the house of the prefect, at the balcony of which he
      occasionally showed himself to acknowledge the acclamations of the people.
    
All morning on June 29th, the main road from St. Germain echoed with cries of "Long live the Emperor!" from the troops passing under the walls of Malmaison. Around midday, General Becker, sent by the Provisional Government, arrived. He had been assigned to attend to Napoleon. Fouché thought that General Becker, who had grievances against the Emperor, would be a willing ally, but he was greatly mistaken. The General showed the Emperor an impressive amount of respect that was quite honorable. Time was now running short. At the moment of his departure, the Emperor sent a message through General Becker to the Provisional Government, offering to march as a private citizen at the head of the troops. He promised to hold off Blücher and then continue on his journey. After the Provisional Government refused, he left Malmaison on the 29th. Napoleon and part of his entourage headed towards Rochefort. He spent the night of June 29th in Rambouillet, on the 30th in Tours, arrived in Niort on July 1st, and reached Rochefort on the western coast of France on the 3rd, intending to escape to America. However, the entire western coastline was so closely monitored by British warships that, after trying various plans, he was forced to abandon the attempt in frustration. He was accommodated at the prefect's house, where he occasionally appeared on the balcony to acknowledge the cheers of the people.







      During his stay here a French naval officer, commanding a Danish merchant
      vessel, generously offered to some of Napoleon's adherents to further his
      escape. He proposed to take Napoleon alone, and undertook to conceal his
      person so effectually as to defy the most rigid scrutiny, and offered to
      sail immediately to the United States of America. He required no other
      compensation than a small sum to indemnify the owners of his ship for the
      loss this enterprise might occasion them. This was agreed to by Bertrand
      upon certain stipulations.
    
During his stay here, a French naval officer commanding a Danish merchant ship generously offered to help some of Napoleon's supporters with his escape. He proposed to take Napoleon by himself and promised to hide him so well that no one would suspect a thing, and he offered to sail immediately to the United States. He asked for no other payment than a small amount to compensate the ship's owners for any losses this venture might cause them. Bertrand agreed to this under certain conditions.







      On the evening of the 8th of July Napoleon reached Fouras, receiving
      everywhere testimonies of attachment. He proceeded on board the Saale, one
      of the two frigates appointed by the Provisional Government to convey him
      to the United States, and slept on board that night. Very early on the
      following morning he visited the fortifications of that place, and
      returned to the frigate for dinner. On the evening of the 9th of July he
      despatched Count Las Cases and the Duke of Rovigo to the commander of the
      English squadron, for the purpose of ascertaining whether the passports
      promised by the Provisional Government to enable him to proceed to America
      had been received. A negative answer was returned; it was at the same time
      signified that the Emperor would be attacked by the English squadron if he
      attempted to sail under a flag of truce, and it was intimated that every
      neutral vessel would be examined, and probably sent into an English port.
      Las Cases affirms that Napoleon was recommended to proceed to England by
      Captain Maitland, who assured him that he would experience no
      ill-treatment there. The English ship 'Bellerophon' then anchored in the
      Basque roads, within sight of the French vessels of war. The coast being,
      as we have stated, entirely blockaded by the English squadron, the Emperor
      was undecided as to the course he should pursue. Neutral vessels and
      'chasse-marees', manned by young naval officers, were proposed, and many
      other plans were devised.
    
On the evening of July 8th, Napoleon arrived in Fouras, receiving warm welcomes everywhere. He boarded the Saale, one of the two frigates assigned by the Provisional Government to take him to the United States, and spent the night on the ship. Early the next morning, he visited the fortifications there and returned to the frigate for dinner. On the evening of July 9th, he sent Count Las Cases and the Duke of Rovigo to the commander of the English squadron to find out if the passports promised by the Provisional Government for him to go to America had been received. They got a negative response, along with a warning that the English squadron would attack the Emperor if he tried to sail under a flag of truce, and that every neutral vessel would be inspected and likely sent to an English port. Las Cases stated that Captain Maitland recommended Napoleon go to England, assuring him he would not face any mistreatment there. The English ship 'Bellerophon' then anchored in the Basque roads, visible from the French warships. With the coast completely blockaded by the English squadron, the Emperor was unsure about what to do next. Suggestions included using neutral vessels and 'chasse-marees' manned by young naval officers, along with many other plans.







      Napoleon disembarked on the 12th at the Isle of Aix with acclamations
      ringing on every side. He had quitted the frigates because they refused to
      sail, owing either to the weakness of character of the commandant, or in
      consequence of his receiving fresh orders from the Provisional Government.
      Many persons thought that the enterprise might be undertaken with some
      probability of success; the wind, however, remained constantly in the
      wrong quarter.
    
Napoleon landed on the 12th at the Isle of Aix with cheers all around. He had left the frigates because they wouldn't set sail, either due to the commander's lack of determination or because he received new orders from the Provisional Government. Many people believed that the mission could be attempted with a fair chance of success; however, the wind continued to blow from an unfavorable direction.







      Las Cases returned to the Bellerophon at four o'clock in the morning of
      the 14th, to inquire whether any reply had been received to the
      communication made by Napoleon. Captain Maitland stated that he expected
      to receive it every moment, and added that, if the Emperor would then
      embark for England, he was authorized to convey him thither. He added,
      moreover, that in his own opinion, and many other officers present
      concurred with him, he had no doubt Napoleon would be treated in England
      with all-possible attention and respect; that in England neither the King
      nor Ministers exercised the same arbitrary power as on the Continent; that
      the English indeed possessed generosity of sentiment and a liberality of
      opinions superior even to those of the King. Las Cases replied that he
      would make Napoleon acquainted with Captain Maitland's offer, and added,
      that he thought the Emperor would not hesitate to proceed to England, so
      as to be able to continue his voyage to the United States. He described
      France, south of the Loire, to be in commotion, the hopes of the people
      resting on Napoleon as long as he was present; the propositions everywhere
      made to him, and at every moment; his decided resolution not to become the
      pretext of a civil war; the generosity he had exhibited in abdicating, in
      order to render the conclusion of a peace more practicable; and his
      settled determination to banish himself, in order to render that peace
      more prompt and more lasting.
    
Las Cases returned to the Bellerophon at 4 a.m. on the 14th to check if there had been any response to Napoleon's message. Captain Maitland mentioned that he expected to receive it at any moment and added that if the Emperor was ready to travel to England, he was authorized to take him there. He also expressed his belief, supported by many other officers present, that Napoleon would be treated in England with great care and respect; that in England, neither the King nor the Ministers had the same arbitrary power as on the Continent; that the English had a generosity of spirit and a level of open-mindedness that surpassed even that of the King. Las Cases replied that he would inform Napoleon of Captain Maitland's offer, and he believed the Emperor would not hesitate to go to England, so he could continue his journey to the United States. He described France, south of the Loire, as being in turmoil, with the people's hopes resting on Napoleon as long as he was there; the propositions made to him coming from all sides and at every moment; his firm decision not to become a reason for civil war; the generosity he showed in abdicating to make peace more achievable; and his firm intention to banish himself to make that peace quicker and more enduring.







      The messengers returned to their Master, who, after some doubt and
      hesitation, despatched General Gourgaud with the following well-known
      letter to the Prince Regent:—
    
The messengers came back to their Master, who, after some uncertainty and hesitation, sent General Gourgaud with the following famous letter to the Prince Regent:—






               ROCHEFORT, 13th July 1815.

   ROYAL HIGHNESS—A victim to the factions which divide my country,
   and to the hostility of the greatest Powers of Europe, I have
   terminated my political career, and come, like Themistocles, to
   share the hospitality of the British people. I place myself under
   the protection of their laws, and I claim that from your Royal
   Highness as the most powerful, the most constant, and the most
   generous of my enemies.
               (Signed)  NAPOLEON.

               ROCHEFORT, 13th July 1815.

   YOUR ROYAL HIGHNESS—As a victim of the factions that divide my country and the hostility of the greatest powers in Europe, I have ended my political career and come, like Themistocles, to seek the hospitality of the British people. I place myself under their laws and request that from your Royal Highness as the most powerful, the most loyal, and the most generous of my enemies.
               (Signed)  NAPOLEON.







      About four P.M. Las Cases and Savory returned to the 'Bellerophon', where
      they had a long conversation with Captain Maitland, in the presence of
      Captains Sartorius and Gambler, who both declare that Maitland repeatedly
      warned Napoleon's adherents not to entertain the remotest idea that he was
      enabled to offer any pledge whatever to their Master beyond the simple
      assurance that he would convey him in safety to the English coast, there
      to await the determination of the British Government.
    
Around 4 PM, Las Cases and Savory went back to the 'Bellerophon', where they had an extended discussion with Captain Maitland, with Captains Sartorius and Gambler present. Both Sartorius and Gambler stated that Maitland consistently warned Napoleon's supporters not to entertain any illusions that he could make any promises to their leader beyond the straightforward assurance that he would safely transport him to the English coast, where he would await the decision of the British Government.







      Napoleon had begun to prepare for his embarkation before daylight on the
      15th. It was time that he did so, for a messenger charged with orders to
      arrest him had already arrived at Rochefort from the new Government. The
      execution of this order was delayed by General Becker for a few hours in
      order to allow Napoleon sufficient time to escape. At daybreak, he quitted
      the 'Epervier', and was enthusiastically cheered by the ship's company so
      long as the boat was within hearing. Soon after six he was received on
      board the 'Bellerophon' with respectful silence, but without those honours
      generally paid to persons of high rank. Bonaparte was dressed in the
      uniform of the 'chasseurs a cheval' of the Imperial Guard, and wore the
      Grand Cross of the Legion of Honour.
    
Napoleon started getting ready to leave before dawn on the 15th. It was about time he did, because a messenger with orders to arrest him had already arrived at Rochefort from the new Government. General Becker delayed carrying out this order for a few hours to give Napoleon enough time to escape. At daybreak, he left the 'Epervier,' and the crew cheered him enthusiastically as long as the boat was close enough to hear. Shortly after six, he was welcomed on board the 'Bellerophon' with respectful silence, but without the honors usually given to high-ranking individuals. Bonaparte was dressed in the uniform of the 'chasseurs a cheval' of the Imperial Guard and wore the Grand Cross of the Legion of Honour.







      On entering the vessel he took off his hat, and addressing Captain
      Maitland, said, "I am come to throw myself on the protection of the laws
      of England." Napoleon's manner was well calculated to make a favourable
      impression on those with whom he conversed. He requested to be introduced
      to the officers of the ship, and put various questions to each. He then
      went round the ship, although he was informed that the men were cleaning
      and scouring, and remarked upon anything which struck him as differing
      from what he had seen on French vessels. The clean appearance of the men
      surprised him. "He then observed," says Captain Maitland, to whose
      interesting narrative we refer, "'I can see no sufficient reason why your
      ships should beat the French ones with so much ease. The finest men-of-war
      in your service are French; a French ship is heavier in every respect than
      one of yours; she carries more guns, and those guns are of a larger
      calibre, and she has a great many more men.'" His inquiries, which were
      minute, proved that he had directed much attention to the French navy.
    
Upon entering the ship, he took off his hat and said to Captain Maitland, "I’ve come to seek the protection of England's laws." Napoleon’s demeanor was well-suited to make a positive impression on those he spoke to. He asked to be introduced to the ship's officers and posed various questions to each one. He then toured the ship, despite being told that the crew was busy cleaning, and commented on anything that seemed different from what he was used to seeing on French ships. He was surprised by how clean the crew looked. "He then remarked,” says Captain Maitland, whose captivating story we reference, "'I don't see any good reason why your ships should outperform the French ones so easily. The best warships in your fleet are French; a French ship is superior in every way to one of yours; it has more guns, and those guns are of a larger size, plus it has many more men.'" His detailed inquiries showed that he had paid a lot of attention to the French navy.







      On the first morning Napoleon took breakfast in the English fashion, but
      observing that his distinguished prisoner did not eat much, Captain
      Maitland gave direction that for the future a hot breakfast should be
      served up after the French manner. 'The Superb', the Admiral's ship, which
      had been seen in the morning, was now approaching. Immediately on her
      anchoring Captain Maitland went on board to give an account of all that
      had happened, and received the Admiral's approbation of what he had done.
      In the afternoon Admiral Sir Henry Hotham was introduced to Napoleon, and
      invited by him to dinner. This was arranged, in order to make it more
      agreeable to him, by Bonaparte's maitre d'hotel. On dinner being announced
      Napoleon led the way, and seated himself in the centre at one side of the
      table, desiring Sir Henry Hotham to take the seat on his right, and Madame
      Bertrand that on his left hand. On this day Captain Maitland took his seat
      at the end of the table, but on the following day, by Napoleon's request,
      he placed himself on his right hand, whilst General Bertrand took the top.
      Two of the ship's officers dined with the Emperor daily, by express
      invitation. The conversation of Napoleon was animated. He made many
      inquiries as to the family and connections of Captain Maitland, and in
      alluding to Lord Lauderdale, who was sent as ambassador to Paris during
      the administration of Mr. Fox, paid that nobleman some compliments and
      said of the then Premier, "Had Mr. Fox lived it never would have come to
      this; but his death put an end to all hopes of peace."
    
On the first morning, Napoleon had breakfast the English way, but noticing that his distinguished prisoner didn’t eat much, Captain Maitland decided that from then on, a hot breakfast should be served in the French style. The Admiral's ship, 'The Superb,' which had been spotted in the morning, was now approaching. As soon as it anchored, Captain Maitland went aboard to report everything that had happened and received the Admiral’s approval for his actions. In the afternoon, Admiral Sir Henry Hotham was introduced to Napoleon and invited to dinner by him. To make it more enjoyable for him, Bonaparte’s maitre d’hotel arranged the details. When dinner was announced, Napoleon took the lead and seated himself in the center on one side of the table, asking Sir Henry Hotham to sit on his right and Madame Bertrand on his left. On this day, Captain Maitland sat at the end of the table, but on the following day, at Napoleon’s request, he moved to sit on his right, while General Bertrand took the head of the table. Two of the ship's officers dined with the Emperor daily, by special invitation. Napoleon was lively in conversation, asking many questions about Captain Maitland’s family and connections. He referred to Lord Lauderdale, who was sent as an ambassador to Paris during Mr. Fox’s administration, complimenting him and commenting on the then Premier, "If Mr. Fox had lived, it would never have come to this; but his death ended all hopes of peace."







      On one occasion he ordered his camp-bed to be displayed for the inspection
      of the English officers. In two small leather packages were comprised the
      couch of the once mighty ruler of the Continent. The steel bedstead which,
      when folded up, was only two feet long, and eighteen inches wide, occupied
      one case, while the other contained the mattress and curtains. The whole
      was so contrived as to be ready for use in three minutes.
    
On one occasion, he had his camp bed set up for the English officers to look at. Inside two small leather bags was the bed of the once-powerful ruler of the Continent. The steel frame, which, when folded, was only two feet long and eighteen inches wide, filled one bag, while the other held the mattress and curtains. The whole thing was designed to be ready for use in three minutes.







      Napoleon spoke in terms of high praise of the marines on duty in the
      Bellerophon, and on going through their ranks exclaimed to Bertrand, "How
      much might be done with a hundred thousand such soldiers as these!" In
      putting them through their exercise he drew a contrast between the charge
      of the bayonet as made by the English and the French, and observed that
      the English method of fixing the bayonet was faulty, as it might easily be
      twisted off when in close action. In visiting Admiral Hotham's flag-ship,
      the 'Superb', he manifested the same active curiosity as in former
      instances, and made the same minute inquiries into everything by which he
      was surrounded. During breakfast one of Napoleon's suite, Colonel Planat,
      was much affected, and even wept, on witnessing the humiliation of his
      Master.
    
Napoleon praised the marines on duty in the Bellerophon and, while walking through their ranks, exclaimed to Bertrand, "Imagine what could be accomplished with a hundred thousand soldiers like these!" As he had them practice, he compared the bayonet charge between the English and the French, noting that the English way of fixing the bayonet was flawed, as it could easily break off in close combat. When visiting Admiral Hotham's flagship, the 'Superb', he showed the same keen curiosity as before, asking detailed questions about everything around him. During breakfast, one of Napoleon's aides, Colonel Planat, was deeply moved and even cried at the sight of his Master’s humiliation.







      On the return of Bonaparte from the Superb to the 'Bellerophon' the latter
      ship was got under weigh and made sail for England. When passing within a
      cable's length of the 'Superb' Napoleon inquired of Captain Maitland if he
      thought that distance was sufficient for action. The reply of the English
      officer was characteristic; he told the Emperor that half the distance, or
      even less, would suit much better. Speaking of Sir Sidney Smith, Bonaparte
      repeated the anecdote connected with his quarrel at St. Jean d'Acre with
      that officer, which has already been related in one of the notes earlier
      in these volumes. Patting Captain Maitland on the shoulder, he observed,
      that had it not been for the English navy he would have been Emperor of
      the East, but that wherever he went he was sure to find English ships in
      the way.
    
On Bonaparte's return from the Superb to the Bellerophon, that ship was ready to sail and headed for England. As they passed within a cable's length of the Superb, Napoleon asked Captain Maitland if he thought that distance was enough for action. The English officer's response was typical; he told the Emperor that half that distance, or even less, would be much better. Speaking of Sir Sidney Smith, Bonaparte recounted the story related to his conflict at St. Jean d'Acre with that officer, which was mentioned in one of the earlier notes in these volumes. Patting Captain Maitland on the shoulder, he remarked that if it weren't for the English navy, he would have been Emperor of the East, but no matter where he went, he was sure to find English ships in his way.







      The 'Bellerophon', with Bonaparte on board, sighted the coast of England
      on Sunday, the 23d of July 1815, and at daybreak on the 24th the vessel
      approached Dartmouth. No sooner had the ship anchored than an order from
      Loral Keith was delivered to Captain Maitland, from which the following is
      an extract:
    
The 'Bellerophon,' with Bonaparte on board, spotted the coast of England on Sunday, July 23, 1815, and at dawn on the 24th, the ship got close to Dartmouth. As soon as the ship dropped anchor, an order from Loral Keith was handed to Captain Maitland, of which the following is an excerpt:






   Extract of an Order from Admiral Viscount Keith, G. C. B., addressed
   to Captain Maitland, of H. M. S. "Bellerophon," dated Ville de
   Paris, Hamoaze, 23d July 1815.

   Captain Sartorius, of His Majesty's ship 'Slaney', delivered to me
   last night, at eleven o'clock, your despatch of the 14th instant,
   acquainting me that Bonaparte had proposed to embark on board the
   ship you command, and that you had acceded thereto, with the
   intention of proceeding to Torbay, there to wait for further orders.
   I lost no time in forwarding your letter by Captain Sartorius to the
   Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty, in order that their Lordships
   might, through him, be acquainted with every circumstance that had
   occurred on an occasion of so much importance; and you may expect
   orders from their Lordships for your further guidance. You are to
   remain in Torbay until you receive such orders; and in the meantime,
   in addition to the directions already in your possession, you are
   most positively ordered to prevent every person whatever from coming
   on board the ship you command, except the officers and men who
   compose her crew; nor is any person whatever, whether in His
   Majesty's service or not, who does not belong, to the ship, to be
   suffered to come on board, either for the purpose of visiting the
   officers, or on any pretence whatever, without express permission
   either from the Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty or from me. As
   I understand from Captain Sartorius that General Gourgaud refused to
   deliver the letter with which he was charged for the Prince Regent
   to any person except His Royal Highness, you are to take him out of
   the 'Slaney' into the ship you command, until you receive directions
   from the Admiralty on the subject, and order that ship back to
   Plymouth Sound, when Captain Sartorius returns from London.

   Extract of an Order from Admiral Viscount Keith, G. C. B., addressed  
   to Captain Maitland, of H. M. S. "Bellerophon," dated Ville de  
   Paris, Hamoaze, 23rd July 1815.

   Last night at eleven o'clock, Captain Sartorius, from His Majesty's ship 'Slaney', delivered your dispatch from the 14th, letting me know that Bonaparte had suggested boarding your ship and that you agreed, planning to head to Torbay to await further orders. I quickly sent your letter with Captain Sartorius to the Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty, so they would be informed of every detail regarding this significant event, and you can expect instructions from them for your further guidance. You are to stay in Torbay until you receive those orders; meanwhile, in addition to the instructions you already have, you are strictly ordered to prevent anyone from coming on board your ship, except for the officers and crew. No one at all, whether in His Majesty's service or not, who does not belong to the ship, should be allowed on board for any reason, whether to visit officers or for any other excuse, without explicit permission from the Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty or from me. Since Captain Sartorius informed me that General Gourgaud refused to deliver the letter meant for the Prince Regent to anyone else but His Royal Highness, you need to transfer him from the 'Slaney' to your ship until you get further instructions from the Admiralty, and send the 'Slaney' back to Plymouth Sound when Captain Sartorius returns from London.







      It was stated about this time, in some of the English newspapers, that St.
      Helena would be the place of exile of the ex-Emperor, the bare report of
      which evidently caused great pain to Napoleon and his suite. General
      Gourgaud was obliged to return to the 'Bellerophon', not having been
      suffered to go on shore to deliver the letter from Bonaparte to the Prince
      Regent with which he had been entrusted. The ship which bore the modern
      Alexander soon became a natural object of attraction to the whole
      neighbourhood, and was constantly surrounded by crowds of boats. Napoleon
      frequently showed himself to the people from shore with a view of
      gratifying their curiosity. On the 25th of July the number of guard-boats
      which surrounded the vessel was greatly increased; and the alarm of the
      captives became greater as the report was strengthened as to the intention
      of conveying Bonaparte to St. Helena.
    
Around this time, some English newspapers reported that St. Helena would be the ex-Emperor's place of exile, which clearly saddened Napoleon and his team. General Gourgaud had to return to the 'Bellerophon', as he wasn't allowed to go ashore to deliver a letter from Bonaparte to the Prince Regent that he had been given. The ship carrying the modern Alexander quickly attracted attention from the entire area and was always surrounded by crowds of boats. Napoleon often appeared to the people onshore to satisfy their curiosity. On July 25th, the number of guard boats around the vessel significantly increased, and the captives grew more anxious as the rumors about sending Bonaparte to St. Helena intensified.







      In conversation with Captain Maitland, Napoleon, who seemed to be aware
      that the English fishermen united the occupation of smugglers to their
      usual trade; stated that many of them had been bribed by him, and had
      assisted in the escape of French prisoners of war. They had even proposed
      to deliver Louis XVIII. into his power, but as they would .not answer for
      the safety of his life, Napoleon refused the offer. Upon the arrival of
      despatches from London the 'Bellerophon' got under weigh for Plymouth
      Sound on the 26th of July. This movement tended still further to
      disconcert the ex-Emperor and his followers. In passing the breakwater
      Bonaparte could not withhold his admiration of that work, which he
      considered highly honourable to the public spirit of the nation, and,
      alluding to his own improvements at Cherbourg, expressed his apprehensions
      that they would now be suffered to fall into decay.
    
In a conversation with Captain Maitland, Napoleon, who seemed to realize that English fishermen often combined smuggling with their regular work, mentioned that he had bribed many of them, and they had helped French prisoners of war escape. They even suggested handing over Louis XVIII. to him, but since they couldn’t guarantee his safety, Napoleon declined the offer. When dispatches arrived from London, the 'Bellerophon' set sail for Plymouth Sound on July 26th. This movement further unsettled the ex-Emperor and his followers. As he passed the breakwater, Bonaparte couldn't help but admire the structure, which he saw as a testament to the public spirit of the nation, and he expressed concerns that his own improvements at Cherbourg would now fall into disrepair.







      Captain Maitland was directed by Lord Keith to observe the utmost
      vigilance to prevent the escape of his prisoners, and with this view no
      boat was permitted to approach the Bellerophon; the 'Liffey' and 'Eurotas'
      were ordered to take up an anchorage on each side of the ship, and further
      precautions were adopted at night.
    
Captain Maitland was instructed by Lord Keith to be extremely watchful to stop his prisoners from escaping, and to achieve this, no boat was allowed near the Bellerophon; the 'Liffey' and 'Eurotas' were ordered to anchor on either side of the ship, and additional measures were taken at night.







      On the 27th of July Captain Maitland proceeded to Lord Keith, taking with
      him Bonaparte's original letter to the Prince Regent, which, as General
      Gourgaud had not been permitted to deliver it personally, Napoleon now
      desired to be transmitted through the hands of the Admiral. As Lord Keith
      had now received instructions from his Government as to the manner in
      which Napoleon was to be treated, he lost no time in paying his respects
      to the fallen chief.
    
On July 27th, Captain Maitland went to Lord Keith, bringing with him Napoleon's original letter to the Prince Regent. Since General Gourgaud hadn't been allowed to deliver it in person, Napoleon wanted it sent through the Admiral. Now that Lord Keith had received instructions from his government on how to handle Napoleon, he quickly made it a point to pay his respects to the deposed leader.







      On the 31st of July the anxiously-expected order of the English Government
      arrived. In this document, wherein the ex-Emperor was styled "General
      Bonaparte," it was notified that he was to be exiled to St. Helena, the
      place of all others most dreaded by him and his devoted adherents. It was,
      moreover, specified that he might be allowed to take with him three
      officers, and his surgeon, and twelve servants. To his own selection was
      conceded the choice of these followers, with the exclusion, however, of
      Savary and Lallemand, who were on no account to be permitted any further
      to share his fortunes. This prohibition gave considerable alarm to those
      individuals, who became excessively anxious as to their future disposal,
      and declared that to deliver them up to the vengeance of the Bourbons
      would be a violation of faith and honour.
    
On July 31st, the long-awaited order from the English Government arrived. In this document, where the ex-Emperor was referred to as "General Bonaparte," it was stated that he was to be exiled to St. Helena, the one place he and his loyal supporters feared the most. Additionally, it was noted that he could take with him three officers, his surgeon, and twelve servants. He was allowed to choose these followers, although Savary and Lallemand were explicitly excluded from accompanying him, as they were not permitted to share in his fate any longer. This ban caused considerable concern among those individuals, who became extremely anxious about their future and argued that surrendering them to the Bourbons' revenge would be a betrayal of faith and honor.







      Napoleon himself complained bitterly on the subject of his destination,
      and said, "The idea, of it is horrible to me. To be placed for life on an
      island within the tropics, at an immense distance from any land, cut off
      from all communication with the world, and everything that I hold dear in
      it!—c'est pis que la cage de fer de Tamerlan. I would prefer being
      delivered up to the Bourbons. Among other insults," said he,—"but
      that is a mere bagatelle, a very secondary consideration—they style
      me General! They can have no right to call me General; they may as well
      call me 'Archbishop,' for I was Head of the Church as well as of the Army.
      If they do not acknowledge me as Emperor they ought as First Counsul; they
      have sent ambassadors to me as such; and your King, in his letters, styled
      me 'Brother.' Had they confined me in the Tower of London, or one of the
      fortresses in England (though not what I had hoped from the generosity of
      the English people), I should not have so much cause of complaint; but to
      banish me to an island within the tropics! They might as well have signed
      my death-warrant at once, for it is impossible a man of my habit of body
      can live long in such a climate."
    
Napoleon himself expressed deep frustration about his destination, saying, "The thought of it is terrible to me. To be stuck for life on an island in the tropics, so far from any land, cut off from all communication with the world and everything I care about!—it’s worse than Tamerlane’s iron cage. I would rather be handed over to the Bourbons. Among other insults,” he said, “but that's a small detail, a minor issue—they call me General! They have no right to call me General; they might as well call me 'Archbishop,' since I was Head of the Church as well as the Army. If they don’t recognize me as Emperor, they should at least acknowledge me as First Consul; they’ve sent ambassadors to me as such; and your King, in his letters, called me 'Brother.' If they had locked me up in the Tower of London, or some fortress in England (though that’s not what I hoped for from the generosity of the English people), I wouldn’t complain as much; but to banish me to a tropical island! They might as well have signed my death warrant right away, because it’s impossible for someone with my physical condition to survive long in such a climate."







      Having so expressed himself, he wrote a second letter to the Prince
      Regent, which was forwarded through Lord Keith. It was the opinion of
      Generals Montholon and Gourgaud that Bonaparte would sooner kill himself
      than go to St. Helena. This idea arose from his having been heard
      emphatically to exclaim, "I will not go to St. Helena!" The generals,
      indeed, declared that were he to give his own consent to be so exiled they
      would themselves prevent him. In consequence of this threat Captain
      Maitland was instructed by Lord Keith to tell those gentlemen that as the
      English law awarded death to murderers, the crime they meditated would
      inevitably conduct them to the gallows.
    
Having expressed himself this way, he wrote a second letter to the Prince Regent, which was sent through Lord Keith. Generals Montholon and Gourgaud believed that Bonaparte would rather kill himself than go to St. Helena. This belief stemmed from him being emphatically heard saying, "I will not go to St. Helena!" The generals asserted that if he agreed to this exile, they would stop him themselves. As a result of this threat, Captain Maitland was told by Lord Keith to inform those gentlemen that English law sentenced murderers to death, and the crime they were planning would definitely lead them to the gallows.







      Early on the morning of the 4th of August the 'Bellerophon' was ordered to
      be ready at a moment's notice for sea. The reason of this was traced to a
      circumstance which is conspicuous among the many remarkable incidents by
      which Bonaparte's arrival near the English coast was characterised. A
      rumour reached Lord Keith that a 'habeas corpus' had been procured with a
      view of delivering Napoleon from the custody he was then in. This,
      however, turned out to be a subpoena for Bonaparte as a witness at a trial
      in the Court of King's Bench; and, indeed, a person attempted to get on
      board the Bellerophon to serve the document; but he was foiled in his
      intention; though, had he succeeded, the subpoena would, in the situation
      wherein the ex-Emperor then stood, have been without avail.
    
Early on the morning of August 4th, the 'Bellerophon' was put on high alert to be ready to depart at a moment's notice. This was due to a notable event that highlighted the many extraordinary occurrences surrounding Bonaparte's arrival close to the English coast. A rumor reached Lord Keith that a 'habeas corpus' had been obtained with the aim of releasing Napoleon from the custody he was in at the time. However, it turned out to be a subpoena for Bonaparte to appear as a witness at a trial in the Court of King's Bench; in fact, someone tried to board the Bellerophon to serve the document, but he was unsuccessful in his attempt. Even if he had succeeded, the subpoena would have been meaningless given the ex-Emperor's situation at that time.







      On the 5th Captain Maitland, having been summoned to the flag-ship of Lord
      Keith, acquainted General Bertrand that he would convey to the Admiral
      anything which Bonaparte (who had expressed an urgent wish to see his
      lordship) might desire to say to him. Bertrand requested the captain to
      delay his departure until a document, then in preparation, should be
      completed: the "PROTEST OF HIS MAJESTY THE LATE EMPEROR OF THE FRENCH,
      ETC."
    
On the 5th, Captain Maitland, after being called to Lord Keith's flagship, informed General Bertrand that he would pass along any messages Bonaparte (who was very eager to see the admiral) wanted to send. Bertrand asked the captain to wait before leaving until a document that was being prepared, titled "PROTEST OF HIS MAJESTY THE LATE EMPEROR OF THE FRENCH, ETC." was finished.







      Captain Maitland denied that any snare was laid for Bonaparte, either by
      himself or by the English Government, and stated that the precautions for
      preventing the escape of Napoleon from Rochefort were so well ordered that
      it was impossible to evade them; and that the fugitive was compelled to
      surrender himself to the English ship.
    
Captain Maitland denied that any trap was set for Bonaparte, either by himself or by the English Government, and stated that the measures taken to prevent Napoleon's escape from Rochefort were so effective that it was impossible to avoid them; thus, the fugitive was forced to surrender to the English ship.







      On the 7th of August Bonaparte, with the suite he had selected, was
      transferred from the 'Bellerophon' to the 'Northumberland'. Lord Keith's
      barge was prepared for his conveyance to the latter vessel, and his
      lordship was present on the occasion. A captain's guard was turned out,
      and as Napoleon left the 'Bellerophon' the marines presented arms, and the
      drum was beaten as usual in saluting a general officer. When he arrived on
      board the Northumberland the squadron got under weigh, and Napoleon sailed
      for the place of his final exile and grave.'
    
On August 7th, Bonaparte, along with his chosen entourage, was moved from the 'Bellerophon' to the 'Northumberland'. Lord Keith's boat was ready to take him to the new ship, and he was present for the transfer. A captain's guard was assembled, and as Napoleon left the 'Bellerophon', the marines saluted, and the drum was beaten as is customary for a general officer. When he arrived on the 'Northumberland', the squadron set sail, and Napoleon headed toward his final place of exile and burial.






 —[For the continuation of Napoleon's voyage see Chapter XIII.]— 
—[For the continuation of Napoleon's journey, see Chapter XIII.]—








 


 




















      CHAPTER XI.
    



      1815.
    
1815.


   My departure from Hamburg-The King at St. Denis—Fouché appointed
   Minister of the Police—Delay of the King's entrance into Paris—
   Effect of that delay—Fouché's nomination due to the Duke of
   Wellington—Impossibility of resuming my post—Fouché's language
   with respect to the Bourbons—His famous postscript—Character of
   Fouché—Discussion respecting the two cockades—Manifestations of
   public joy repressed by Fouché—Composition of the new Ministry—
   Kind attention of Blücher—The English at St. Cloud—Blücher in
   Napoleon's cabinet—My prisoner become my protector—Blücher and the
   innkeeper's dog—My daughter's marriage contract—Rigid etiquette—
   My appointment to the Presidentship of the Electoral College of the
   Yonne—My interview with Fouché—My audience of the King—His
   Majesty made acquainted with my conversation with Fouché—The Duke
   of Otranto's disgrace—Carnot deceived by Bonaparte—My election as
   deputy—My colleague, M. Raudot—My return to Paris—Regret caused
   by the sacrifice of Ney—Noble conduct of Macdonald—A drive with
   Rapp in the Bois de Boulogne—Rapp's interview with Bonaparte in
   1815—The Duc de Berri and Rapp—My nomination to the office of
   Minister of State—My name inscribed by the hand of Louis XVIII.—
   Conclusion.

   My departure from Hamburg - The King at St. Denis—Fouché appointed Minister of the Police—Delay of the King's entrance into Paris—Effect of that delay—Fouché's nomination due to the Duke of Wellington—Impossibility of resuming my post—Fouché's comments about the Bourbons—His famous postscript—Character of Fouché—Discussion about the two cockades—Public celebrations suppressed by Fouché—Composition of the new Ministry—Kind attention of Blücher—The English at St. Cloud—Blücher in Napoleon's cabinet—My prisoner became my protector—Blücher and the innkeeper's dog—My daughter's marriage contract—Strict etiquette—My appointment as President of the Electoral College of the Yonne—My meeting with Fouché—My audience with the King—His Majesty informed about my conversation with Fouché—The Duke of Otranto's disgrace—Carnot fooled by Bonaparte—My election as deputy—My colleague, M. Raudot—My return to Paris—Regret over the sacrifice of Ney—Noble conduct of Macdonald—A drive with Rapp in the Bois de Boulogne—Rapp's meeting with Bonaparte in 1815—The Duc de Berri and Rapp—My nomination to the position of Minister of State—My name written by the hand of Louis XVIII.—Conclusion.







      The fulfilment of my prediction was now at hand, for the result of the
      Battle of Waterloo enabled Louis XVIII. to return to his dominions. As
      soon as I heard of the King's departure from Ghent I quitted Hamburg, and
      travelled with all possible haste in the hope of reaching Paris in time to
      witness his Majesty's entrance. I arrived at St. Denis on the 7th of July,
      and, notwithstanding the intrigues that were set on foot, I found an
      immense number of persons assembled to meet the King. Indeed, the place
      was so crowded that it was with the greatest difficulty I could procure
      even a little garret for my lodging.
    
The fulfillment of my prediction was about to happen, as the outcome of the Battle of Waterloo allowed Louis XVIII to return to his kingdom. As soon as I heard about the King leaving Ghent, I left Hamburg and traveled as quickly as I could, hoping to reach Paris in time to see His Majesty’s arrival. I arrived in St. Denis on July 7, and despite the intrigue surrounding the event, I found a huge crowd gathered to welcome the King. In fact, the place was so packed that it was extremely difficult for me to find even a small room for my stay.







      Having resumed my uniform of a captain of the National Guard, I proceeded
      immediately to the King's palace. The salon was filled with ladies and
      gentlemen who had come to congratulate the King on his return. At St.
      Denis I found my family, who, not being aware that I had left Hamburg,
      were much surprised to see me.
    
Having put on my captain’s uniform for the National Guard again, I headed straight to the King’s palace. The salon was filled with ladies and gentlemen who had come to congratulate the King on his return. At St. Denis, I found my family, who, not knowing that I had left Hamburg, were quite surprised to see me.







      They informed me that the Parisians were all impatient for the return of
      the King—a fact of which I could judge by the opposition manifested
      to the free expression of public feeling. Paris having been declared in a
      state of blockade, the gates were closed, and no one was permitted to
      leave the capital, particularly by the Barriere de la Chapelle. It is true
      that special permission might be obtained, and with tolerable ease, by
      those who wished to leave the city; but the forms to be observed for
      obtaining the permission deterred the mass of the people from proceeding
      to St. Denis, which, indeed, was the sole object of the regulation. As it
      had been resolved to force Fouché and the tri-coloured cockade upon the
      King, it was deemed necessary to keep away from his Majesty all who might
      persuade him to resist the proposed measures. Madame de Bourrienne told me
      that on her arrival at St. Denis she called upon M. Hue and M. Lefebvre,
      the King's physician, who both acquainted her with those fatal
      resolutions. Those gentlemen, however, assured her that the King would
      resolutely hold out against the tri-coloured cockade, but the nomination
      of the ill-omened man appeared inevitable.
    
They told me that the people of Paris were all eager for the King’s return—a fact I could see from the resistance to openly sharing public sentiment. With Paris declared under blockade, the gates were shut, and no one was allowed to leave the city, especially through the Barriere de la Chapelle. It was true that special permission could be obtained, and it was relatively easy for those who wanted to leave the city; but the requirements for securing that permission discouraged most people from heading to St. Denis, which was really the only purpose of the rule. Since it had been decided to impose Fouché and the tricolor cockade on the King, it was considered necessary to keep away anyone who might persuade him to resist these measures. Madame de Bourrienne told me that upon arriving in St. Denis, she visited M. Hue and M. Lefebvre, the King’s doctor, who both informed her of those disastrous decisions. However, those gentlemen assured her that the King would firmly oppose the tricolor cockade, but the appointment of the ill-fated man seemed unavoidable.







      Fouché Minister of the Police! If, like Don Juan, I had seen a statue
      move, I could not have been more confounded than when I heard this news. I
      could not credit it until it was repeated to me by different persons. How;
      indeed, could I think that at the moment of a reaction the King should
      have entrusted the most important ministerial department to a man to whose
      arrest he had a hundred days before attached so much consequence? to a
      man, moreover, whom Bonaparte had appointed, at Lyons, to fill the same
      office! This was inconceivable! Thus, in less than twenty-four hours, the
      same man had been entrusted to execute measures the most opposite, and to
      serve interests the most contradictory. He was one day the minister of
      usurpation, and the next the minister of legitimacy! How can I express
      what I felt when Fouché took the oath of fidelity to Louis XVIII. when I
      saw the King clasp in his hands the hands of Fouché! I was standing near
      M. de Chateaubriand, whose feelings must have been similar to mine, to
      judge from a passage in his admirable work, 'La Monarchie selon la
      Charte'. "About nine in the evening," he says, "I was in one of the royal
      antechambers. All at once the door opened, and I saw the President of the
      Council enter leaning on the arm of the new minister. Oh, Louis-le-Desire!
      Oh, my unfortunate master! you have proved that there is no sacrifice
      which your people may not expect from your paternal heart!"
    
Fouché, Minister of the Police! If I had seen a statue move like Don Juan, I couldn't have been more shocked than when I heard this news. I couldn't believe it until different people confirmed it. How could I think that at such a time of change, the King would trust the most important ministerial department to a man whose arrest he had considered so significant a hundred days earlier? Plus, this was the same man Bonaparte had appointed in Lyons to the same position! It was unbelievable! In less than twenty-four hours, the same person was given the job of carrying out completely opposite measures and serving conflicting interests. One day he was the minister of usurpation, and the next day he was the minister of legitimacy! How can I describe what I felt when Fouché took the oath of loyalty to Louis XVIII and I saw the King holding Fouché's hands? I was standing near M. de Chateaubriand, who must have felt the same way, judging by a passage in his remarkable work, 'La Monarchie selon la Charte'. "Around nine in the evening," he writes, "I was in one of the royal antechambers. Suddenly, the door opened, and I saw the President of the Council enter, leaning on the arm of the new minister. Oh, Louis-le-Desire! Oh, my unfortunate master! you have shown that there is no sacrifice your people shouldn't expect from your caring heart!"







      Fouché was resolved to have his restoration as well as M. de Talleyrand,
      who had had his the year before; he therefore contrived to retard the
      King's entry into Paris for four days. The prudent members of the Chamber
      of Peers, who had taken no part in the King's Government in 1814, were the
      first to declare that it was for the interest of France to hasten his
      Majesty's entrance into Paris, in order to prevent foreigners from
      exercising a sort of right of conquest in a city which was a prey to civil
      dissension and party influence. Blücher informed me that the way in which
      Fouché contrived to delay the King's return greatly contributed to the
      pretensions of the foreigners who, he confessed, were very well pleased to
      see the population of Paris divided in opinion, and to hear the alarming
      cries raised by the confederates of the Faubourgs when the King was
      already at St. Denis.
    
Fouché was determined to achieve his comeback just like M. de Talleyrand had done the year before; so, he managed to delay the King's entry into Paris by four days. The cautious members of the Chamber of Peers, who hadn’t participated in the King's Government in 1814, were the first to say that it was in France's best interest to speed up the King’s entrance into Paris, to prevent foreign powers from acting like conquerors in a city troubled by civil strife and political factions. Blücher told me that Fouché's tactics to postpone the King's return significantly boosted the claims of the foreigners, who were quite pleased to see the people of Paris divided in their opinions and to hear the alarming shouts from the residents of the Faubourgs while the King was already at St. Denis.







      I know for a fact that Louis XVIII. wished to have nothing to do with
      Fouché, and indignantly refused to appoint him when he was first proposed.
      But he had so nobly served Bonaparte during the Hundred Days that it was
      necessary he should be rewarded. Fouché, besides, had gained the support
      of a powerful party among the emigrants of the Faubourg St. Germain, and
      he possessed the art of rendering himself indispensable. I have heard many
      honest men say very seriously that to him was due the tranquillity of
      Paris. Moreover, Wellington was the person by whose influence in
      particular Fouché was made one of the counsellors of the King. After all
      the benefits which foreigners had conferred upon us Fouché was indeed an
      acceptable present to France and to the King.
    
I know for sure that Louis XVIII wanted nothing to do with Fouché and angrily refused to appoint him when he was first suggested. However, Fouché had served Bonaparte so well during the Hundred Days that it was necessary for him to be rewarded. Additionally, Fouché had won the backing of a strong group among the emigrants from Faubourg St. Germain, and he knew how to make himself essential. I've heard many honest people seriously say that the calmness of Paris was thanks to him. Furthermore, Wellington was the main influence behind Fouché becoming one of the King’s advisors. Given all the support we received from foreigners, Fouché was indeed a welcomed addition for France and the King.







      I was not ignorant of the Duke of Wellington's influence upon the affairs
      of the second Restoration, but for a long time I refused to believe that
      his influence should have outweighed all the serious considerations
      opposed to such a perfect anomaly as appointing Fouché the Minister of a
      Bourbon. But I was deceived. France and the King owed to him Fouché's
      introduction into the Council, and I had to thank him for the
      impossibility of resuming a situation which I had relinquished for the
      purpose of following the King into Belgium. Could I be Prefect of Police
      under a Minister whom a short time before I had received orders to arrest,
      but who eluded my agents? That was impossible. The King could not offer me
      the place of Prefect under Fouché, and if he had I could not have accepted
      it. I was therefore right in not relying on the assurances which had been
      given me; but I confess that if I had been told to guess the cause why
      they could not be realised I never should have thought that cause would
      have been the appointment of Fouché as a Minister of the King of France.
      At first, therefore, I was of course quite forgotten, as is the custom of
      courts when a faithful subject refrains from taking part in the intrigues
      of the moment.
    
I was aware of the Duke of Wellington's influence over the events of the second Restoration, but for a long time, I couldn’t believe that his influence could surpass all the serious reasons against such a bizarre situation as appointing Fouché as the Minister of a Bourbon. But I was mistaken. France and the King owed Fouché's introduction into the Council to him, and I had to accept that I could not return to a position I had left to follow the King to Belgium. Could I really be the Prefect of Police under a Minister whom I had recently been ordered to arrest but who had managed to evade my agents? That was impossible. The King couldn’t offer me the Prefect position under Fouché, and even if he had, I couldn’t have accepted it. So, I was right not to trust the assurances I had been given; however, I admit that if someone had asked me to guess why they couldn’t be fulfilled, I would never have thought the reason would be Fouché's appointment as a Minister of the King of France. At first, therefore, I was completely overlooked, as is typical in courts when a loyal subject chooses not to engage in the current intrigues.







      I have already frequently stated my opinion of the pretended talent of
      Fouché; but admitting his talent to have been as great as was supposed,
      that would have been an additional reason for not entrusting the general
      police of the kingdom to him. His principles and conduct were already
      sufficiently known. No one could be ignorant of the language he held
      respecting the Bourbons, and in which he indulged as freely after he
      became the Minister of Louis XVIII. as when he was the Minister of
      Bonaparte. It was universally known that in his conversation the Bourbons
      were the perpetual butt for his sarcasms, that he never mentioned them but
      in terms of disparagement, and that he represented them as unworthy of
      governing France. Everybody must have been aware that Fouché, in his
      heart, favoured a Republic, where the part of President might have been
      assigned to him. Could any one have forgotten the famous postscript he
      subjoined to a letter he wrote from Lyons to his worthy friend
      Robespierre: "To celebrate the fete of the Republic suitably, I have
      ordered 250 persons to be shot?" And to this man, the most furious enemy
      of the restoration of the monarchy, was consigned the task of
      consolidating it for the second time! But it would require another
      Claudian to describe this new Rufinus!
    
I've often shared my thoughts on Fouché's supposed talent; however, even if his talent was as great as claimed, that would only be another reason not to trust him with the general police of the kingdom. His principles and actions were already well-known. Everyone knew the way he spoke about the Bourbons, and he was just as critical after becoming the Minister of Louis XVIII as he was when he served Bonaparte. It was common knowledge that he constantly ridiculed the Bourbons in conversation, referring to them only in a negative light and portraying them as unfit to govern France. Surely, everyone recognized that Fouché secretly favored a Republic, where he might have envisioned himself as President. How could anyone forget the infamous postscript he added to a letter he sent from Lyons to his good friend Robespierre: "To celebrate the Republic's holiday properly, I’ve ordered 250 people to be executed?" Yet this man, a fierce opponent of restoring the monarchy, was tasked with solidifying it for the second time! It would take another Claudian to capture this new Rufinus!







      Fouché never regarded a benefit in any other light than as the means of
      injuring his benefactor. The King, deceived, like many other persons, by
      the reputation which Fouché's partisans had conjured up for him, was
      certainly not aware that Fouché had always discharged the functions of
      Minister in his own interest, and never for the interest of the Government
      which had the weakness to entrust him with a power always dangerous in his
      hands. Fouché had opinions, but he belonged to no party, and his political
      success is explained by the readiness with which he always served the
      party he knew must triumph, and which he himself overthrew in its turn. He
      maintained himself in favour from the days of blood and terror until the
      happy time of the second Restoration only by abandoning and sacrificing
      those who were attached to him; and it might be said that his ruling
      passion was the desire of continual change. No man was ever characterised
      by greater levity or inconstancy of mind. In all things he looked only to
      himself, and to this egotism he sacrificed both subjects and Governments.
      Such were the secret causes of the sway exercised by Fouché during the
      Convention, the Directory, the Empire, the Usurpation, and after the
      second return of the Bourbons. He helped to found and to destroy every one
      of those successive Governments. Fouché's character is perfectly unique. I
      know no other man who, loaded with honours, and almost escaping disgrace,
      has passed through so many eventful periods, and taken part in so many
      convulsions and revolutions.
    
Fouché never saw a benefit as anything other than a way to harm the person who helped him. The King, misled like many others by the reputation Fouché's supporters had created for him, was certainly unaware that Fouché always acted as Minister for his own gain, never for the benefit of the government that foolishly gave him such dangerous power. Fouché had his own opinions but didn’t belong to any party. His political success came from his ability to quickly align himself with whichever party he knew would succeed, only to turn against it later. He managed to stay in favor from the days of blood and terror until the joyful time of the second Restoration by abandoning and sacrificing those loyal to him. It could be said that his main desire was for constant change. No one exhibited greater fickleness or inconsistency. In everything, he only cared about himself, and he sacrificed both subjects and governments for his own ego. These were the hidden reasons for the influence Fouché had during the Convention, the Directory, the Empire, the Usurpation, and after the second return of the Bourbons. He helped both to create and to destroy each of those successive governments. Fouché's character is truly one of a kind. I know of no other person, burdened with honors and nearly avoiding disgrace, who has navigated through so many tumultuous periods and participated in so many upheavals and revolutions.







      On the 7th of July the King was told that Fouché alone could smooth the
      way for his entrance into Paris, that he alone could unlock the gates of
      the capital, and that he alone had power to control public opinion. The
      reception given to the King on the following day afforded an opportunity
      of judging of the truth of these assertions. The King's presence was the
      signal for a feeling of concord, which was manifested in a very decided
      way. I saw upon the boulevards, and often in company with each other,
      persons, some of whom had resumed the white cockade, while others still
      retained the national colours, and harmony was not in the least disturbed
      by these different badges.
    
On July 7th, the King was informed that Fouché was the only one who could facilitate his entry into Paris, that he alone could open the gates of the capital, and that he was the only one with the power to sway public opinion. The reception given to the King the next day provided a chance to evaluate the truth of these claims. The King's appearance sparked a sense of unity, which was clearly visible. I saw people on the boulevards, often together, some wearing the white cockade while others still displayed the national colors, and this diversity in symbols didn’t disrupt the overall harmony at all.







      Having returned to private life solely on account of Fouché's presence in
      the Ministry, I yielded to that consolation which is always left to the
      discontented. I watched the extravagance and inconsistency that were
      passing around me, and the new follies which were every day committed; and
      it must be confessed that a rich and varied picture presented itself to my
      observation. The King did not bring back M. de Blacas. His Majesty had
      yielded to prudent advice, and on arriving at Mons sent the unlucky
      Minister as his ambassador to Naples. Vengeance was talked of, and there
      were some persons inconsiderate enough to wish that advantage should be
      taken of the presence of the foreigners in order to make what they termed
      "an end of the Revolution," as if there were any other means of effecting
      that object than frankly adopting whatever good the Revolution had
      produced. The foreigners observed with satisfaction the disposition of
      these shallow persons, which they thought might be turned to their own
      advantage. The truth is, that on the second Restoration our pretended
      allies proved themselves our enemies.
    
Having returned to private life solely because of Fouché's presence in the Ministry, I found a bit of comfort in the usual consolation available to the discontented. I observed the extravagance and inconsistency happening around me, along with the new foolishness that was committed every day; and I must admit that a rich and varied picture came into view. The King did not bring back M. de Blacas. His Majesty had listened to wise advice, and upon arriving at Mons, he sent the unfortunate Minister as his ambassador to Naples. People talked of vengeance, and a few were reckless enough to suggest taking advantage of the foreigners' presence to bring what they called "an end to the Revolution," as if there were any other way to achieve that goal than by genuinely embracing the good that the Revolution had produced. The foreigners looked on with satisfaction at the mindset of these shallow individuals, thinking it might be used to their own advantage. The truth is, that during the second Restoration, our supposed allies revealed themselves to be our enemies.







      But for them, but for their bad conduct, their insatiable exactions, but
      for the humiliation that was felt at seeing foreign cannon planted in the
      streets of Paris, and beneath the very windows of the Palace, the days
      which followed the 8th of July might have been considered by the Royal
      Family as the season of a festival. Every day people thronged to the
      garden of the Tuileries, and expressed their joy by singing and dancing
      under the King's windows.
    
But for their poor behavior, their endless demands, and the humiliation of seeing foreign cannons set up in the streets of Paris, right outside the Palace windows, the days after July 8th could have been seen as a festive season by the Royal Family. Every day, people filled the Tuileries garden, celebrating by singing and dancing beneath the King’s windows.







      This ebullition of feeling might perhaps be thought absurd, but it at
      least bore evidence of the pleasure caused by the return of the Bourbons.
    
This outburst of emotion might seem ridiculous, but it clearly showed the joy brought about by the return of the Bourbons.







      This manifestation of joy by numbers of persons of both sexes, most of
      them belonging to the better classes of society, displeased Fouché, and he
      determined to put a stop to it. Wretches were hired to mingle with the
      crowd and sprinkle corrosive liquids on the dresses of the females some of
      them were even instructed to commit acts of indecency, so that all
      respectable persons were driven from the gardens through the fear of being
      injured or insulted: As it was wished to create disturbance under the very
      eyes of the King, and to make him doubt the reality of the sentiments so
      openly expressed in his favour, the agents of the Police mingled the cry
      of "Vive l'Empereur!" with that of "Vive le Roi!" and it happened oftener
      than once that the most respectable persons were arrested and charged by
      Fouché's infamous agents with having uttered seditious cries. A friend of
      mine, whose Royalist opinions were well known, and whose father had been
      massacred during the Revolution, told me that while walking with two
      ladies he heard some individuals near him crying out "Vive l'Empereur!"
      This created a great disturbance. The sentinel advanced to the spot, and
      those very individuals themselves had the audacity to charge my friend
      with being guilty of uttering the offensive cry. In vain the bystanders
      asserted the falsehood of the accusation; he was seized and dragged to the
      guard-house, and after being detained for some hours he was liberated on
      the application of his friends. By dint of such wretched manoeuvres Fouché
      triumphed. He contrived to make it be believed that he was the only person
      capable of preventing the disorders of which he himself was the sole
      author: He got the Police of the Tuileries under his control. The singing
      and dancing ceased, and the Palace was the abode of dulness.
    
The display of joy by many people of both genders, mostly from the upper classes, upset Fouché, and he decided to put an end to it. He hired people to blend into the crowd and pour corrosive liquids on the outfits of the women; some were even told to engage in indecent acts, driving away all respectable individuals out of fear of being harmed or insulted. The aim was to create chaos right under the King’s nose and make him question the authenticity of the support being shown for him. Police agents mixed the shouts of "Vive l'Empereur!" with "Vive le Roi!" and it happened more than once that respectable people were arrested and falsely charged by Fouché's notorious agents with making seditious remarks. A friend of mine, who was openly Royalist and whose father had been killed during the Revolution, told me that while walking with two ladies, he heard some people nearby yelling "Vive l'Empereur!" This caused a major uproar. A sentinel moved in, and those very individuals had the nerve to accuse my friend of yelling the offensive cry. Despite bystanders insisting the accusation was false, he was seized and taken to the guardhouse, and after being held for a few hours, he was freed thanks to his friends' intervention. Through such despicable tactics, Fouché succeeded. He managed to make it seem like he was the only one capable of stopping the disturbances that he himself had caused. He took control of the Police at the Tuileries. The singing and dancing stopped, and the Palace became a place of monotony.







      While the King was at St. Denis he restored to General Dessoles the
      command of the National Guard. The General ordered the barriers to be
      immediately thrown open. On the day of his arrival in Paris the King
      determined, as a principle, that the throne should be surrounded by a
      Privy Council, the members of which were to be the princes and persons
      whom his Majesty might appoint at a future period. The King then named his
      new Ministry, which was thus composed:
    
While the King was in St. Denis, he gave General Dessoles back the command of the National Guard. The General ordered the barriers to be opened immediately. On the day he arrived in Paris, the King decided that the throne should be supported by a Privy Council, made up of princes and individuals that his Majesty could appoint later. The King then announced his new Ministry, which was made up of:







      Prince Talleyrand, peer of France, President of the Council of Ministers,
      and Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs.
    
Prince Talleyrand, a member of the French nobility, President of the Council of Ministers, and Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs.







      Baron Louis, Minister of Finance.
    
Baron Louis, Finance Minister.







      The Duke of Otranto, Minister of the Police.
    
The Duke of Otranto, Police Minister.







      Baron Pasquier, Minister of Justice, and Keeper of the Seals.
    
Baron Pasquier, Minister of Justice, and Keeper of the Seals.







      Marshal Gouvion St. Cyr, War Minister.
    
Marshal Gouvion St. Cyr, Minister of War.







      Comte de Jaucourt, peer of France, Minister of the Marine.
    
Comte de Jaucourt, French noble, Minister of the Navy.







      The Duc de Richelieu, peer of France, Minister of the King's Household.
    
The Duke of Richelieu, nobleman of France, Minister of the King's Household.







      The portfolio of the Minister of the Interior, which was not immediately
      disposed of, was provisionally entrusted to the Minister of Justice. But
      what was most gratifying to the public in the composition of this new
      ministry was that M. de Blacas, who had made himself so odious to
      everybody, was superseded by M. de Richelieu, whose name revived the
      memory of a great Minister, and who, by his excellent conduct throughout
      the whole course of his career, deserves to be distinguished as a model of
      honour and wisdom.
    
The portfolio of the Minister of the Interior, which wasn't immediately assigned, was temporarily given to the Minister of Justice. But what pleased the public most about this new ministry was that M. de Blacas, who had become so disliked by everyone, was replaced by M. de Richelieu, a name that brought back memories of a great Minister. Through his outstanding conduct throughout his career, he earned recognition as a model of honor and wisdom.







      General satisfaction was expressed on the appointment of Marshal Macdonald
      to the post of Grand Chancellor of the Legion of Honour in lieu of M. de
      Pradt. M. de Chabrol resumed the Prefecture of the Seine, which, during
      the Hundred Days, had been occupied by M. de Bondi, M. de Mole was made
      Director-General of bridges and causeways. I was superseded in the
      Prefecture of Police by M. Decazes, and M. Beugnot followed M. Ferrand as
      Director-General of the Post-office.
    
People were generally pleased with Marshal Macdonald's appointment as the Grand Chancellor of the Legion of Honour, replacing M. de Pradt. M. de Chabrol took back the Prefecture of the Seine, which had been held by M. de Bondi during the Hundred Days. M. de Mole was appointed as the Director-General of bridges and causeways. I was replaced in the Prefecture of Police by M. Decazes, and M. Beugnot succeeded M. Ferrand as the Director-General of the Post Office.







      I think it was on the 10th of July that I went to St. Cloud to pay a visit
      of thanks to Blücher. I had been informed that as soon as he learned I had
      a house at St. Cloud he sent a guard to protect it. This spontaneous mark
      of attention was well deserving of grateful acknowledgment, especially at
      a time when there was so much reason to complain of the plunder practised
      by the Prussians. My visit to Blücher presented to observation a striking
      instance of the instability of human greatness. I found Blücher residing
      like a sovereign in the Palace of St. Cloud, where I had lived so long in
      the intimacy of Napoleon, at a period when he dictated laws to the Kings
      of Europe before he was a monarch himself.
    
I think it was on July 10th that I went to St. Cloud to thank Blücher. I had heard that as soon as he found out I had a house in St. Cloud, he sent a guard to protect it. This thoughtful gesture definitely deserved my gratitude, especially during a time when there was so much reason to complain about the looting by the Prussians. My visit to Blücher highlighted the unpredictable nature of human greatness. I found Blücher living like a ruler in the Palace of St. Cloud, where I had once enjoyed a close relationship with Napoleon, at a time when he was making laws for the Kings of Europe before he became a monarch himself.






 —[The English occupied St. Cloud after the Prussians. My large
   house, in which the children of the Comte d'Artois were inoculated,
   was respected by them, but they occupied a small home forming part
   of the estate. The English officer who commanded the troops
   stationed a guard at the large house. One morning we were informed
   that the door had been broken open and a valuable looking-glass
   stolen. We complained to the commanding officer, and on the affair
   being inquired into it was discovered that the sentinel himself had
   committed the theft. The man was tried by a court-martial, and
   condemned to death, a circumstance which, as may naturally be
   supposed, was very distressing to us. Madame de Bourrienne applied
   to the commanding officer for the man's pardon, but could only
   obtain his reprieve. The regiment departed some weeks after, and we
   could never learn what was the fate of the criminal.—Bourrienne.]— 
—[The English took over St. Cloud after the Prussians. My big house, where the children of the Comte d'Artois were vaccinated, was respected by them, but they occupied a smaller home that was part of the estate. The English officer in charge stationed a guard at the large house. One morning, we were informed that the door had been broken open and a valuable mirror had been stolen. We complained to the commanding officer, and when the matter was investigated, it was found that the sentinel himself had committed the theft. The man was tried by a court-martial and sentenced to death, which, as you can imagine, was very distressing for us. Madame de Bourrienne asked the commanding officer for the man's pardon, but could only get a reprieve. The regiment left a few weeks later, and we never found out what happened to the criminal.—Bourrienne.]—







      In that cabinet in which Napoleon and I had passed so many busy hours, and
      where so many great plans had their birth, I was received by the man who
      had been my prisoner at Hamburg. The Prussian General immediately reminded
      me of the circumstance. "Who could have foreseen," said he, "that after
      being your prisoner I should become the protector of your property? You
      treated me well at Hamburg, and I have now an opportunity of repaying your
      kindness. Heaven knows what will be the result of all this! One thing,
      however, is certain, and that is, that the Allies will now make such
      conditions as will banish all possibility of danger for a long time to
      come. The Emperor Alexander does not wish to make the French people
      expiate too dearly the misfortunes they have caused us. He attributes them
      to Napoleon, but Napoleon cannot pay the expenses of the war, and they
      must be paid by some one. It was all very well for once, but we cannot pay
      the expense of coming back a second time. However," added he, "you will
      lose none of your territory; that is a point on which I can give you
      positive assurance. The Emperor Alexander has several times repeated in my
      presence to the King my master, 'I honour the French nation, and I am
      determined that it shall preserve its old limits.'"
    
In that cabinet where Napoleon and I had spent so many busy hours, and where so many great plans were born, I was welcomed by the man who had once been my prisoner in Hamburg. The Prussian General immediately reminded me of that situation. "Who could have predicted," he said, "that after being your prisoner I would become the protector of your property? You treated me well in Hamburg, and now I have a chance to repay your kindness. God knows what will come of all this! One thing is certain: the Allies will now set conditions that will eliminate any risk for a long time. Emperor Alexander doesn’t want the French people to pay too dearly for the troubles they’ve caused us. He blames them on Napoleon, but Napoleon can’t cover the war costs, and someone has to pay. It was manageable this time, but we can’t afford to come back a second time. However," he added, "you won't lose any of your territory; I can assure you of that. Emperor Alexander has repeatedly told my King in my presence, 'I respect the French nation, and I'm committed to ensuring it keeps its old boundaries.'"







      The above are the very words which Blücher addressed to me. Profiting by
      the friendly sentiments he expressed towards me I took the opportunity of
      mentioning the complaints that were everywhere made of the bad discipline
      of the troops under his command. "What can I do?" said he. "I cannot be
      present everywhere; but I assure you that in future and at your
      recommendation I will severely punish any misconduct that may come to my
      knowledge."
    
The above are the exact words Blücher said to me. Taking advantage of the friendly feelings he showed, I seized the chance to bring up the complaints about the poor discipline of the troops under his command. "What can I do?" he replied. "I can’t be everywhere at once; but I promise you that from now on, based on your recommendation, I will harshly punish any misconduct that comes to my attention."







      Such was the result of my visit to Blücher; but, in spite of his promises,
      his troops continued to commit the most revolting excesses. Thus the
      Prussian troops have left in the neighbourhood of Paris recollections no
      less odious than those produced by the conduct of Davoust's corps in
      Prussia.—Of this an instance now occurs to my memory, which I will
      relate here. In the spring of 1816, as I was going to Chevreuse, I stopped
      at the Petit Bicetre to water my horse. I seated myself for a few minutes
      near the door of the inn, and a large dog belonging to the innkeeper began
      to bark and growl at me. His master, a respectable-looking old man,
      exclaimed, "Be quiet, Blücher!"—"How came you to give your dog that
      name?" said I.—"Ah, sir! it is the name of a villain who did a great
      deal of mischief here last year. There is my house; they have left
      scarcely anything but the four walls. They said they came for our good;
      but let them come back again . . . we will watch them, and spear them like
      wild boars in the wood." The poor man's house certainly exhibited traces
      of the most atrocious violence, and he shed tears as he related to me his
      disasters.
    
That was the outcome of my visit to Blücher; however, despite his promises, his troops continued to carry out the most shocking abuses. The Prussian soldiers left behind memories around Paris that were just as horrible as those created by Davoust's forces in Prussia. One instance comes to mind that I’ll share here. In the spring of 1816, while I was on my way to Chevreuse, I stopped at the Petit Bicetre to water my horse. I sat for a few minutes by the inn's door, and a large dog owned by the innkeeper started barking and growling at me. His owner, a respectable-looking old man, shouted, "Be quiet, Blücher!" I asked, "Why did you name your dog that?" He replied, "Ah, sir! It's the name of a villain who caused a lot of trouble here last year. There is my house; they left hardly anything but the four walls. They said they came for our benefit; but if they come back again... we will keep an eye on them and take them down like wild boars in the woods." The poor man's house clearly showed signs of extreme violence, and he cried as he recounted his misfortunes.







      Before the King departed for Ghent he had consented to sign the contract
      of marriage between one of my daughters and M. Massieu de Clerval, though
      the latter was at that time only a lieutenant in the navy. The day
      appointed for the signature of the contract happened to be Sunday, the
      19th of March, and it may well be imagined that in the critical
      circumstances in which we then stood, a matter of so little importance
      could scarcely be thought about. In July I renewed my request to his
      Majesty; which gave rise to serious discussions in the Council of
      Ceremonies. Lest any deviation from the laws of rigid etiquette should
      commit the fate of the monarchy, it was determined that the marriage
      contract of a lieutenant in the navy could be signed only at the petty
      levee. However, his Majesty, recollecting the promise he had given me,
      decided that the signature should be given at the grand levee. Though all
      this may appear exceedingly ludicrous, yet I must confess that the triumph
      over etiquette was very gratifying to me.
    
Before the King left for Ghent, he agreed to sign the marriage contract between one of my daughters and M. Massieu de Clerval, even though he was just a lieutenant in the navy at that time. The day set for signing the contract was Sunday, March 19th, and given the critical situation we were in, something as trivial as this hardly occupied our minds. In July, I brought up my request to his Majesty again, which led to serious debates in the Council of Ceremonies. To avoid any break from strict etiquette that could impact the monarchy, it was decided that a lieutenant in the navy could only have his marriage contract signed during the petty levee. However, remembering the promise he made to me, his Majesty opted to have the signature done at the grand levee. While this might seem ridiculous, I have to admit that triumphing over etiquette was very satisfying for me.







      A short time after the King appointed me a Councillor of State; a title
      which I had held under Bonaparte ever since his installation at the
      Tuileries, though I had never fulfilled the functions of the office. In
      the month of August; the King having resolved to convoke a new Chamber of
      Deputies, I was appointed President of the Electoral College of the
      department of the Yonne. As soon as I was informed of my nomination I
      waited on M. de Talleyrand for my instructions, but he told me that, in
      conformity with the King's intentions, I was to receive my orders from the
      Minister of Police. I observed to M. de Talleyrand that I must decline
      seeing Fouché, on account of the situation in which we stood with
      reference to each other. "Go to him, go to him," said M. de Talleyrand,
      "and be assured Fouché will say to you nothing on the subject."
    
A short time after the King appointed me as a Councillor of State—a title I had held under Bonaparte since his installation at the Tuileries, even though I had never actually performed the duties of the role—in August, the King decided to convene a new Chamber of Deputies, and I was named President of the Electoral College for the Yonne department. As soon as I learned about my appointment, I went to M. de Talleyrand for guidance, but he informed me that, following the King's wishes, I was to receive my orders from the Minister of Police. I told M. de Talleyrand that I needed to avoid seeing Fouché due to our complicated relationship. “Go to him, go to him,” M. de Talleyrand replied, “and rest assured, Fouché won't mention anything about it.”







      I felt great repugnance to see Fouché, and consequently I went to him
      quite against my inclination. I naturally expected a very cold reception.
      What had passed between us rendered our interview exceedingly delicate. I
      called on Fouché at nine in the morning, and found him alone, and walking
      in his garden. He received me as a man might be expected to receive an
      intimate friend whom he had not seen for a long time. On reflection I was
      not very much surprised at this, for I was well aware that Fouché could
      make his hatred yield to calculation. He said not a word about his arrest,
      and it may well be supposed that I did not seek to turn the conversation
      on that subject. I asked him whether he had any information to give me
      respecting the elections of the Yonne. "None at all," said he; "get
      yourself nominated if you can, only use your endeavours to exclude General
      Desfouinaux. Anything else is a matter of indifference to me."—"What
      is your objection to Desfournaux?"—"The Ministry will not have him."
    
I felt a strong dislike towards seeing Fouché, so I went to meet him despite my reluctance. I expected a very cold welcome. Our past interactions made the meeting quite delicate. I visited Fouché at nine in the morning and found him alone, walking in his garden. He greeted me like an old friend he hadn’t seen in a long time. Looking back, I wasn’t too surprised by this, as I knew Fouché was capable of putting aside his hatred for practical reasons. He didn’t mention his arrest, and it’s easy to guess that I wasn’t about to bring it up. I asked him if he had any updates about the elections in the Yonne. "None at all," he replied. "Try to get yourself nominated if you can, but make sure to exclude General Desfouinaux. Anything else doesn’t matter to me."—"What’s your issue with Desfournaux?"—"The Ministry won’t accept him."







      I was about to depart when Fouché; called me back saying, "Why are you in
      such haste? Cannot you stay a few minutes longer?" He then began to speak
      of the first return of the Bourbons, and asked me how I could so easily
      bring myself to act in their favour. He then entered into details
      respecting the Royal Family which I conceive it to be my duty to pass over
      in silence: It may be added, however, that the conversation lasted a long
      time, and to say the least of it, was by no means in favour of "divine
      right."
    
I was about to leave when Fouché called me back, saying, "Why are you in such a rush? Can't you stay a few more minutes?" He then started talking about the first return of the Bourbons and questioned how I could so easily support them. He went into details about the Royal Family, which I think it’s best to keep to myself. However, I should mention that the conversation went on for a long time and, to say the least, it wasn’t exactly supportive of "divine right."







      I conceived it to be my duty to make the King acquainted with this
      conversation, and as there was now no Comte de Blacas to keep truth and
      good advice from his Majesty's ear, I was; on my first solicitation,
      immediately admitted to, the Royal cabinet. I cautiously suppressed the
      most startling details, for, had I literally reported what Fouché said,
      Louis XVIII. could not possibly have given credit to it. The King thanked
      me for my communication, and I could perceive he was convinced that by
      longer retaining Fouché in office he would become the victim of the
      Minister who had been so scandalously forced upon him on the 7th of July.
      The disgrace of the Duke of Otranto speedily followed, and I had the
      satisfaction of having contributed to repair one of the evils with which
      the Duke of Wellington visited France.
    
I felt it was my duty to inform the King about this conversation, and since there was no longer Comte de Blacas to keep the truth and good advice from reaching his Majesty, I was quickly granted access to the Royal cabinet on my first request. I carefully left out the most shocking details, because if I had reported everything Fouché said, Louis XVIII wouldn’t have believed it. The King thanked me for sharing this information, and I could see he was convinced that if he kept Fouché in office any longer, he would end up being a victim of the Minister who had been so scandalously forced on him on July 7th. The disgrace of the Duke of Otranto came soon after, and I took satisfaction in knowing I had helped address one of the issues the Duke of Wellington brought to France.







      Fouché was so evidently a traitor to the cause he feigned to serve, and
      Bonaparte was so convinced of this,—that during the Hundred Days,
      when the Ministers of the King at Ghent were enumerated in the presence of
      Napoleon, some one said, "But where is the Minister of the Police?"
    
Fouché was clearly a traitor to the cause he pretended to support, and Bonaparte was completely convinced of this—so much so that during the Hundred Days, when the King's Ministers were listed in front of Napoleon, someone asked, "But where's the Minister of the Police?"







      "E-h! Parbleu," said Bonaparte, "that is Fouché?" It was not the same with
      Carnot, in spite of the indelible stain of his vote: if he had served the
      King, his Majesty could have depended on him, but nothing could shake the
      firmness of his principles in favour of liberty. I learned, from a person
      who had the opportunity of being well informed, that he would not accept
      the post of Minister of the Interior which was offered to him at the
      commencement of the Hundred Days until he had a conversation with
      Bonaparte, to ascertain whether he had changed his principles. Carnot
      placed faith in the fair promises of Napoleon, who deceived him, as he had
      deceived others.
    
“Eh! Wow,” said Bonaparte, “is that Fouché?” It was different with Carnot, despite the lasting mark of his vote: if he had served the King, his Majesty could have relied on him, but nothing could shake his strong principles in support of liberty. I learned from someone who was well-informed that he wouldn’t take the position of Minister of the Interior that was offered to him at the start of the Hundred Days until he had a talk with Bonaparte to see if he had changed his views. Carnot believed in Napoleon’s appealing promises, who misled him, just as he had misled others.







      Soon after my audience with the King I set off to discharge my duties in
      the department of the Yonne, and I obtained the honour of being elected to
      represent my countrymen in the Chamber of Deputies. My colleague was M.
      Raudot, a man who, in very trying circumstances, had given proofs of
      courage by boldly manifesting his attachment to the King's Government. The
      following are the facts which I learned in connection with this episode,
      and which I circulated as speedily as possible among the electors of whom
      I had the honour to be President. Bonaparte, on his way from Lyons to
      Paris, after his landing at the gulf of Juan, stopped at Avalon, and
      immediately sent for the mayor, M. Raudot. He instantly obeyed the
      summons. On coming into Napoleon's presence he said, "What do you want,
      General?" This appellation displeased Napoleon, who nevertheless put
      several questions to M. Raudot, who was willing to oblige him as a
      traveller, but not to serve him as an Emperor. Napoleon having given him
      some orders, this worthy servant of the King replied, "General, I can
      receive no orders from you, for I acknowledge no sovereign but the King,
      to whom I have sworn allegiance." Napoleon then directed M. Raudot, in a
      tone of severity, to withdraw, and I need not add that it was not long
      before he was dismissed from the mayoralty of Avalon.
    
Soon after my meeting with the King, I set off to fulfill my duties in the Yonne department and was honored to be elected to represent my fellow citizens in the Chamber of Deputies. My colleague was Mr. Raudot, a man who, under very challenging circumstances, showed courage by openly expressing his support for the King's Government. Here are the details I learned about this incident, which I quickly shared with the voters I had the privilege to serve as President. On his way from Lyons to Paris, after landing at the gulf of Juan, Bonaparte stopped at Avalon and promptly called for the mayor, Mr. Raudot. He immediately responded to the request. Upon entering Napoleon's presence, he said, "What do you want, General?" This title annoyed Napoleon, who nevertheless asked several questions of Mr. Raudot. While he was willing to assist him as a traveler, he wasn't ready to serve him as an Emperor. After giving him some orders, this loyal servant of the King replied, "General, I cannot take orders from you, as I acknowledge no sovereign but the King, to whom I have sworn allegiance." Napoleon then harshly instructed Mr. Raudot to leave, and it goes without saying that it wasn't long before he was removed from the mayoralty of Avalon.







      The elections of the Yonne being over, I returned to Paris, where I took
      part in public affairs only as an amateur, while waiting for the opening
      of the session. I was deeply grieved to see the Government resort to
      measures of severity to punish faults which it would have been better
      policy to attribute only to the unfortunate circumstances of the times. No
      consideration can ever make me cease to regret the memory of Ney, who was
      the victim of the influence of foreigners. Their object, as Blücher
      intimated to me at St. Cloud, was to disable France from engaging in war
      for a long time to come, and they hoped to effect that object by stirring
      up between the Royal Government and the army of the Loire that spirit of
      discord which the sacrifice of Ney could not fail to produce. I have no
      positive proofs of the fact, but in my opinion Ney's life was a pledge of
      gratitude which Fouché thought he must offer to the foreign influence
      which had made him Minister.
    
The Yonne elections were over, and I returned to Paris, where I only participated in public affairs as a hobby while waiting for the session to start. I was deeply saddened to see the Government use harsh measures to punish mistakes that would have been better attributed to the unfortunate circumstances of the time. No reasoning can ever make me stop regretting Ney, who fell victim to foreign influence. Their goal, as Blücher hinted to me at St. Cloud, was to prevent France from going to war for a long time, and they hoped to achieve that by creating discord between the Royal Government and the army of the Loire, a rift that Ney's sacrifice could not help but cause. I don't have concrete evidence, but in my view, Ney's life was a token of gratitude that Fouché felt he had to give to the foreign powers that had made him Minister.







      About this time I learned a fact which will create no surprise, as it
      affords another proof of the chivalrous disinterestedness of Macdonald's
      character. When in 1815 several Marshals claimed from the Allied powers
      their endowments in foreign countries, Madame Moreau, to whom the King had
      given the honorary title of 'Madame la Marechale', and who was the friend
      of the Duke of Tarentum, wrote, without Macdonald's knowledge, to M. de
      Blacas; our ambassador at Naples, begging him to endeavour to preserve for
      the Marshal the endowment which had been given him in the Kingdom of
      Naples. As soon as Macdonald was informed of this circumstance he waited
      upon Madame Moreau, thanked her for her kind intentions, but at the same
      time informed her that he should disavow all knowledge of her letter, as
      the request it contained was entirely averse to his principles. The
      Marshal did, in fact, write the following letter to M. de Blacas:—"I
      hasten to inform you, sir, that it was not with my consent that Madame
      Moreau wrote to you, and I beg you will take no step that might expose me
      to a refusal. The King of Naples owes me no recompense for having beaten
      his army, revolutionised his kingdom, and forced him to retire to Sicily."
      Such conduct was well worthy of the man who was the last to forsake
      Napoleon in, 1814, and the first to rejoin him, and that without the
      desire of accepting any appointment in 1815. M. de Blacas, who was himself
      much surprised at Macdonald's letter, communicated it to the King of
      Naples, whose answer deserves to be recorded. It was as follows:—"If
      I had not imposed a law upon myself to acknowledge none of the French
      endowments, the conduct of Marshal Macdonald would have induced me to make
      an exception in his favour." It is gratifying to see princes such
      scrupulous observers of the laws they make for themselves!
    
Around this time, I learned a fact that probably won’t surprise anyone, as it serves as another example of Macdonald's noble character. In 1815, when several Marshals requested their foreign endowments from the Allied powers, Madame Moreau, who had been given the honorary title of 'Madame la Marechale' by the King and was a friend of the Duke of Tarentum, wrote to M. de Blacas, our ambassador in Naples, without Macdonald’s knowledge. She asked him to help preserve the endowment that had been given to the Marshal in the Kingdom of Naples. Once Macdonald found out about this, he went to see Madame Moreau to thank her for her intentions but also made it clear that he would deny any knowledge of her letter, since the request went against his principles. In fact, the Marshal wrote the following letter to M. de Blacas: “I want to let you know, sir, that Madame Moreau did not have my permission to write to you, and I ask that you not take any steps that could lead to my being refused. The King of Naples owes me no reward for defeating his army, revolutionizing his kingdom, and forcing him to retreat to Sicily.” This behavior truly reflected the man who was the last to abandon Napoleon in 1814 and the first to rejoin him, doing so without seeking any position in 1815. M. de Blacas, surprised by Macdonald's letter, shared it with the King of Naples, whose response is worth noting: “If I hadn’t set a rule for myself to not acknowledge any French endowments, Marshal Macdonald’s conduct would have led me to make an exception in his case.” It’s refreshing to see princes who are such strict adherents to the laws they create for themselves!







      About the end of August 1815, as I was walking on the Boulevard des
      Capucines, I had the pleasure of meeting Rapp, whom I had not seen for a
      long time. He had just come out of the house of Lagrenee, the artist, who
      was painting his portrait. I was on foot, and Rapp's carriage was waiting,
      so we both stepped into it, and set off to take a drive in the Bois de
      Boulogne. We had a great deal to say to each other, for we had not met
      since the great events of the two Restorations. The reason of this was,
      that in 1814 I passed a part of the year at Sens, and since the
      occurrences of March 1815 Rapp himself had been absent from Paris. I found
      him perfectly resigned to his change of condition, though indulging in a
      few oaths against the foreigners. Rapp was not one of those, generals who
      betrayed the King on the 20th of March. He told me that he remained at the
      head of the division which he commanded at Ecouen, under the orders of the
      Duc de Berry, and that he did not resign it to the War Minister until
      after the King's departure. "How did Napoleon receive you?" I inquired. "I
      waited till he sent for me. You know what sort of fellow I am: I know
      nothing about politics; not I. I had sworn fidelity to the King. I know my
      duty, and I would have fought against the Emperor."—"Indeed!"—"Yes,
      certainly I would, and I told him so myself."—"How! did you venture
      so far?"—"To be sure. I told him that my resolution was definite.
      'Pshaw! . . . replied he angrily. 'I knew well that you were opposed to
      me. If we had come to an action I should have sought you out on the field
      of battle. I would have shown you the Medusa's head. Would you have dared
      to fire on me?'—'Without doubt,' I replied. 'Ah! parbleu this is too
      much,' he said. 'But your troops would not have obeyed you. They had
      preserved all their affection for me.'—'What could I do?' resumed I.
      'You abdicated, you left France, you recommended us to serve the King—and
      then you return! Besides; I tell you frankly, I do not augur well of what
      will happen. We shall have war again. France has had enough of that.' Upon
      this," continued Rapp, "he assured me that he had other thoughts; that he
      had no further desire for war; that he wished to govern in peace, and
      devote himself solely to the happiness of his people. When I hinted
      opposition on the part of the Foreign Powers, he said that he had made
      alliances. He then spoke to me of the King, and I said I had been much
      pleased with him; indeed, the King gave me a very gratifying reception on
      my return from Kiew, and I see no reason why I should complain, when I am
      so well used. During the conversation the Emperor much extolled the
      conduct of the Duke of Orleans. He then gave me some description of his
      passage from the Isle of Elba and his journey to Paris. He complained of
      being accused of ambition; and observing that I looked astonished and
      doubtful—'What?' he continued, 'am I ambitious then?' And patting
      his belly with both his hands, 'Can a man,' he asked, 'so fat as I am be
      ambitious?' I could not for my soul help saying, 'Ah! Sire, your Majesty
      is surely joking.' He pretended, however, to be serious, and after a few
      moments, noticing my decorations, he began to banter me about the Cross of
      St. Louis and the Cross of the Lily, which I still wore."
    
About the end of August 1815, while I was walking on the Boulevard des Capucines, I had the pleasure of running into Rapp, whom I hadn’t seen in a long time. He had just come out of the house of Lagrenee, the artist, who was painting his portrait. I was on foot, and Rapp's carriage was waiting, so we both got in and set off for a drive in the Bois de Boulogne. We had a lot to catch up on since we hadn’t met since the major events of the two Restorations. The reason for this was that in 1814 I spent part of the year in Sens, and since the events of March 1815, Rapp himself had been away from Paris. I found him completely accepting of his change in circumstances, although he used a few curses against the foreigners. Rapp wasn’t one of those generals who betrayed the King on March 20th. He told me he stayed in command of the division he led at Ecouen, under the orders of the Duc de Berry, and that he didn’t resign to the War Minister until after the King left. “How did Napoleon welcome you?” I asked. “I waited until he called for me. You know me: I don’t know anything about politics. I swore loyalty to the King. I know my duty, and I would have fought against the Emperor.” — “Really?” — “Yes, definitely, and I told him so myself.” — “How? Did you really go that far?” — “Of course. I told him that my decision was firm. ‘Pshaw!’ he replied angrily. ‘I knew you were against me. If we had come to blows, I would have looked for you on the battlefield. I would have shown you the Medusa's head. Would you have dared to shoot at me?’ — ‘Absolutely,’ I replied. ‘Ah! This is too much,’ he said. ‘But your troops wouldn’t have followed your orders. They still had all their affection for me.’ — ‘What could I do?’ I continued. ‘You abdicated, left France, and told us to serve the King—then you come back! Besides, I’m being honest, I don’t have a good feeling about what’s coming. We’re going to have war again. France has had enough of that.’ At this,” Rapp continued, “he assured me he had different plans; that he didn’t want war anymore; that he wanted to govern in peace and focus solely on the happiness of his people. When I suggested there might be opposition from the Foreign Powers, he said he had made alliances. He then talked about the King, and I mentioned that I had been very pleased with him; in fact, the King welcomed me very nicely when I returned from Kiew, and I see no reason to complain since I’ve been treated so well. During our conversation, the Emperor praised the Duke of Orleans a lot. He then described his escape from the Isle of Elba and his journey to Paris. He complained about being accused of ambition; noticing that I looked shocked and uncertain—‘What?’ he said, ‘Am I ambitious then?’ And patting his belly with both hands, he asked, ‘Can a man as fat as I am be ambitious?’ I couldn’t help but say, ‘Ah! Sire, your Majesty is surely joking.’ He feigned seriousness, and after a moment, noticing my decorations, he started to joke about the Cross of St. Louis and the Cross of the Lily, which I still wore.”







      I asked Rapp whether all was true that had been said about the enthusiasm
      which was manifested along the whole of Napoleon's route from the Gulf of
      Juan to Paris. "Ma foi!" he replied, "I was not there any more than you,
      but all those who accompanied him have assured me of the truth of the
      details which have been published; but I recollect having heard Bertrand
      say that on one occasion he was fearful for the safety of the Emperor, in
      case any assassin should have presented himself. At Fossard, where the
      Emperor stopped to breakfast on his way to Paris, his escort was so
      fatigued as to be unable to follow, so that he was for some time almost
      alone on the road, until a squadron which was in garrison at Melun met him
      and escorted him to Fontainebleau. As to anything else, from all I have
      heard, the Emperor was exposed to no danger."
    
I asked Rapp if everything said about the excitement along Napoleon's route from the Gulf of Juan to Paris was true. "Well!" he replied, "I wasn't there any more than you were, but everyone who was with him assured me that the details published were accurate. However, I remember Bertrand saying that at one point he was worried for the Emperor's safety in case an assassin showed up. At Fossard, where the Emperor stopped for breakfast on his way to Paris, his escort was so exhausted that they couldn't follow him, so he was almost alone on the road for a while, until a squadron stationed in Melun met up with him and escorted him to Fontainebleau. As for anything else, from what I've heard, the Emperor faced no danger."







      We then began to talk of our situation, and the singular chances of our
      fortune. Rapp told me how, within a few days only, he had ceased to be one
      of the discontented; for the condition of the generals who had commanded
      army corps in the campaign of Waterloo was very different in 1815 from
      what it had been in 1814. "I had determined," he said, "to live a quiet
      life, to meddle with nothing, and not even to wear my uniform. I had,
      therefore, since the King's return never presented myself at Court; when,
      a week ago, while riding on horseback two or three hundred paces from this
      spot, I saw a group of horsemen on the other side of the avenue, one of
      whom galloped towards me. I immediately recognised the Duc de Berry, 'How,
      Monseigneur, is it you?' I exclaimed. 'It is, my dear General; and since
      you will not come to us, I must come to you. Will you breakfast with me
      tomorrow morning?'—'Ma foi!" continued Rapp, "what could I do? The
      tone of kindness in which he gave this invitation quite charmed me. I
      went, and I was treated so well that I shall go again. But I will ask for
      nothing: I only want these Prussians and English rascals out of the way!"
      I complimented Rapp on his conduct, and told him that it was impossible
      that so loyal and honest a man as he should not, at some time or other,
      attract the King's notice. I had the happiness to see this prediction
      accomplished. Since that time I regularly saw Rapp whenever we both
      happened to be in Paris, which was pretty often.
    
We then started discussing our situation and the unique twists of our fortune. Rapp told me how, in just a few days, he stopped being one of the unhappy ones; because the situation of the generals who had led army corps in the Waterloo campaign was very different in 1815 compared to 1814. "I had decided," he said, "to live a quiet life, to stay out of things, and not even wear my uniform. So, since the King's return, I hadn’t shown up at Court. Then, a week ago, while riding a couple of hundred paces from here, I saw a group of riders on the other side of the avenue, and one of them rode over to me. I immediately recognized the Duc de Berry. 'How are you, Monseigneur?' I exclaimed. 'It's me, my dear General; and since you won't come to us, I need to come to you. Will you have breakfast with me tomorrow morning?'—'Ma foi!' continued Rapp, 'what could I do? The friendly tone he used to invite me was so charming. I went, and they treated me so well that I'll go again. But I won't ask for anything: I just want those Prussian and English scoundrels out of the way!' I complimented Rapp on how he handled it, telling him that it was impossible for such a loyal and honest man like him not to eventually catch the King's attention. I was happy to see that prediction come true. From then on, I would regularly see Rapp whenever we both happened to be in Paris, which was quite often.







      I have already mentioned that in the month of August the King named me
      Councillor of State. On the 19th of the following month I was appointed
      Minister of State and member of the Privy Council. I may close these
      volumes by relating a circumstance very flattering to me, and connected
      with the last-mentioned nomination. The King had directed M. de Talleyrand
      to present to him, in his official character of President of the Council
      of Ministers, a list of the persons who might be deemed suitable as
      members of the Privy Council. The King having read the list, said to his
      Minister, "But, M. de Talleyrand, I do not see here the names of two of
      our best friends, Bourrienne and Alexis de Noailles."—"Sire, I
      thought their nomination would seem more flattering in coming directly
      from your Majesty." The King then added my name to the list, and
      afterwards that of the Comte Alexis de Noailles, so that both our names
      are written in Louis XVIII.'s own hand in the original Ordinance.
    
I’ve already mentioned that in August, the King appointed me Councillor of State. On the 19th of the next month, I became Minister of State and a member of the Privy Council. I’ll wrap up these volumes by sharing a complimenting story related to that last appointment. The King had asked M. de Talleyrand, in his role as President of the Council of Ministers, to give him a list of suitable candidates for the Privy Council. After reading the list, the King said to his Minister, "But, M. de Talleyrand, I don’t see the names of two of our best friends, Bourrienne and Alexis de Noailles."—"Sire, I thought it would be more flattering for their nominations to come directly from your Majesty." The King then added my name to the list, and later included Comte Alexis de Noailles, so our names are both written in Louis XVIII's own handwriting in the original Ordinance.







      I have now brought to a conclusion my narrative of the extraordinary
      events in which I have taken part, either as a spectator or an actor,
      during the course of a strangely diversified life, of which nothing now
      remains but recollections.
    
I have now concluded my story about the amazing events I have witnessed or been a part of throughout my uniquely varied life, of which only memories remain.






 —[I discharged the functions of Councillor of State until 1818, at
   which time an Ordinance appeared declaring those functions
   Incompatible with the title of Minister of State—Bourrienne.]— 
 —[I served as Councillor of State until 1818, when an Ordinance was issued stating that those duties were incompatible with the title of Minister of State—Bourrienne.]—








 


 




















      CHAPTER XII.
    



      THE CENT JOURS.
    
THE HUNDRED DAYS.



      The extraordinary rapidity of events during the Cent fours, or Hundred
      Days of Napoleon's reign in 1815, and the startling changes in the parts
      previously filled by the chief personages, make it difficult to consider
      it as an historical period; it more resembles a series of sudden
      theatrical transformations, only broken by the great pause while the
      nation waited for news from the army.
    
The extraordinary speed of events during the Cent fours, or Hundred Days of Napoleon's reign in 1815, and the surprising changes in the roles previously held by key figures, make it hard to view this time as a historical period; it feels more like a sequence of abrupt dramatic shifts, interrupted only by the long wait for news from the army.







      The first Restoration of the Bourbons had been so unexpected, and was so
      rapidly carried out, that the Bonapartists, or indeed all France, had
      hardly realized the situation before Napoleon was again in the Tuileries;
      and during the Cent Jours both Bonapartists and Royalists were alike
      rubbing their eyes, asking whether they were awake, and wondering which
      was the reality and which the dream, the Empire or the Restoration.
    
The first Restoration of the Bourbons was so surprising and happened so quickly that the Bonapartists, and really all of France, barely grasped what was going on before Napoleon was back in the Tuileries. During the Cent Jours, both Bonapartists and Royalists were equally bewildered, questioning whether they were awake and wondering which was real: the Empire or the Restoration.







      It is both difficult and interesting to attempt to follow the history of
      the chief characters of the period; and the reader must pardon some abrupt
      transitions from person to person, and from group to group, while the
      details of some subsequent movements of the Bonaparte family must be
      thrown in to give a proper idea of the strange revolution in their
      fortunes. We may divide the characters with which we have to deal into
      five groups,—the Bonaparte family, the Marshals, the Statesmen of
      the Empire, the Bourbons, and the Allied Monarchs. One figure and one name
      will be missing, but if we omit all account of poor, bleeding, mutilated
      France, it is but leaving her in the oblivion in which she was left at the
      time by every one except by Napoleon.
    
It’s both challenging and intriguing to trace the history of the main characters from this period. Readers should forgive the abrupt shifts from one person or group to another, as we need to include details about some later events involving the Bonaparte family to fully understand their surprising changes in fortune. We can categorize the key figures into five groups: the Bonaparte family, the Marshals, the Empire's Statesmen, the Bourbons, and the Allied Monarchs. One important figure and name will be absent, but if we skip over the account of poor, wounded, broken France, we would leave her forgotten, just as everyone else did at that time, except for Napoleon.







      The disaster of 1814 had rather dispersed than crushed the Bonaparte
      family, and they rallied immediately on the return from Elba. The final
      fall of the Empire was total ruin to them. The provisions of the Treaty of
      Fontainebleau, which had been meant to ensure a maintenance to them, had
      not been carried out while Napoleon was still a latent power, and after
      1815 the Bourbons were only too happy to find a reason for not paying a
      debt they had determined never to liquidate; it was well for any of the
      Bourbons in their days of distress to receive the bounty of the usurper,
      but there was a peculiar pleasure in refusing to pay the price promised
      for his immediate abdication.
    
The disaster of 1814 scattered the Bonaparte family rather than completely destroying them, and they quickly regrouped after Napoleon's return from Elba. The ultimate collapse of the Empire was a total loss for them. The terms of the Treaty of Fontainebleau, which were supposed to provide for them, were not fulfilled while Napoleon still had some influence, and after 1815, the Bourbons were more than happy to find an excuse for not settling a debt they never intended to pay. It was convenient for any Bourbon during their tough times to benefit from the usurper's generosity, but they took particular satisfaction in refusing to honor the payment promised for his quick abdication.







      The flight of the Bonapartes in 1815 was rapid. Metternich writes to Maria
      Louisa in July 1815: "Madame Mere and Cardinal Fesch left yesterday for
      Tuscany. We do not know exactly where Joseph is. Lucien is in England
      under a false name, Jerome in Switzerland, Louis at Rome. Queen Hortense
      has set out for Switzerland, whither General de Flahault and his mother
      will follow her. Murat seems to be still at Toulon; this, however, is not
      certain." Was ever such an account of a dynasty given? These had all been
      among the great ones of Europe: in a moment they were fugitives, several
      of them having for the rest of their lives a bitter struggle with poverty.
      Fortunately for them the Pope, the King of Holland, and the Grand-Duke of
      Tuscany, were not under heavy obligations to Napoleon, and could thus
      afford to give to his family the protection denied them by those monarchs
      who believed themselves bound to redeem their former servility.
    
The Bonaparte family fled quickly in 1815. Metternich wrote to Maria Louisa in July 1815: "Madame Mere and Cardinal Fesch left yesterday for Tuscany. We don’t know exactly where Joseph is. Lucien is in England using a fake name, Jerome is in Switzerland, and Louis is in Rome. Queen Hortense has headed to Switzerland, where General de Flahault and his mother will follow her. Murat seems to still be at Toulon, but that’s not certain." Has there ever been such a report about a dynasty? They had all been among the powerful in Europe: in an instant, they became fugitives, with several facing a tough battle with poverty for the rest of their lives. Luckily for them, the Pope, the King of Holland, and the Grand-Duke of Tuscany weren’t heavily indebted to Napoleon and could therefore protect his family, unlike those rulers who felt obligated to atone for their previous loyalty.







      When Napoleon landed Maria Louisa was in Austria, and she was eager to
      assist in taking every precaution to prevent her son, the young King of
      Rome, being spirited off to join his father, whose fortunes she had sworn
      to share: She herself was fast falling under the influence of the one-eyed
      Austrian General, Neipperg, just then left a widower, who was soon to be
      admitted to share her bed. By 1823 she seemed to have entirely forgotten
      the different members of the Bonaparte family, speaking of her life in
      France as "a bad dream." She obtained the Grand-Duchy of Parma, where she
      reigned till 1847, marrying a third time, it is said, the Count Bombellea,
      and dying, just too soon to be hunted from her Duchy by the Revolution of
      1848.
    
When Napoleon landed, Maria Louisa was in Austria and was eager to take every precaution to prevent her son, the young King of Rome, from being taken away to join his father, whose fate she had vowed to share. She was quickly falling under the spell of the one-eyed Austrian General, Neipperg, who had just become a widower and would soon be welcomed into her bed. By 1823, she seemed to have completely forgotten about the various members of the Bonaparte family, referring to her time in France as "a bad dream." She acquired the Grand-Duchy of Parma, where she ruled until 1847, and reportedly married a third time to Count Bombellea, dying just before the Revolution of 1848 could chase her out of her Duchy.







      There is something very touching in most that we know of the poor young
      King of Rome, from his childish but strangely prescient resistance to his
      removal from Paris to Blois on the approach of the Allies in 1814, to the
      message of remembrance sent in after years to the column of the Place
      Vendome, "his only friend in Paris."
    
There’s something incredibly moving about what we know of the young King of Rome, from his innocent yet oddly insightful struggle against being taken from Paris to Blois as the Allies approached in 1814, to the message of remembrance he sent years later to the column in Place Vendôme, "his only friend in Paris."







      At four years of age Meneval describes him as gentle, but quick in
      answering, strong, and with excellent health. "Light curly hair in
      ringlets set off a fresh face, while fine blue eyes lit up his regular
      features: He was precociously intelligent, and knew more than most
      children older than himself." When Meneval—the former secretary of
      his father, giving up his post in Austria with Maria Louisa, as he was
      about to rejoin Napoleon—took farewell of the Prince in May 1815,
      the poor little motherless child drew me towards the window, and, giving
      me a touching look, said in a low tone, "Monsieur Meva, tell him
      (Napoleon) that I always love him dearly." We say "motherless," because
      Maria Louisa seems to have yielded up her child at the dictates of policy
      to be closely guarded as easily as she gave up her husband. "If," wrote
      Madame de Montesquieu, his governess, "the child had a mother, I would
      leave him in her hands, and be happy, but she is nothing like a mother,
      she is more indifferent to his fate than the most utter stranger in her
      service." His grandfather, the Emperor Francis, to do him justice, seems
      to have been really kind to the lad, and while, in 1814, 1816, and in
      1830, taking care to deprive him of all chance of, his glorious
      inheritance, still seems to have cared for him personally, and to have
      been always kind to him. There is no truth in the story that the Austrians
      neglected his education and connived at the ruin of his faculties. Both
      his tutor, the Count Maurice Dietrichstein, and Marshal Marmont, who
      conversed with him in 1831, agree in speaking highly of him as full of
      promise: Marmont's evidence being especially valuable as showing that the
      Austrians did not object to the Duke of Reichstadt (as he had been created
      by his grandfather in 1818), learning all he could of his father's life
      from one of the Marshals. In 1831 Marmont describes him: "I recognised his
      father's look in him, and in that he most resembled Napoleon. His eyes,
      not so large as those of Napoleon, and sunk deeper in their sockets, had
      the same expression, the same fire, the same energy. His forehead was like
      that of his father, and so was the lower part of his face and his chin.
      Then his complexion was that of Napoleon in his youth, with the same
      pallor and the same colour of the skin, but all the rest of his face
      recalled his mother and the House of Austria. He was taller than Napoleon
      by about three inches."
    
At four years old, Meneval describes him as gentle, quick to respond, strong, and in great health. "Light curly hair in ringlets framed a fresh face, while bright blue eyes lit up his well-defined features. He was exceptionally intelligent and knew more than most children older than him." When Meneval—the former secretary to his father, who had just left his position in Austria with Maria Louisa to rejoin Napoleon—said goodbye to the Prince in May 1815, the poor little motherless child pulled me toward the window and, giving me a heartfelt look, whispered, "Monsieur Meva, tell him (Napoleon) that I always love him dearly." We call him "motherless" because Maria Louisa seems to have let go of her child for political reasons, guarding him as easily as she let go of her husband. "If," wrote Madame de Montesquieu, his governess, "the child had a mother, I would leave him in her care and be happy, but she is nothing like a mother; she is more indifferent to his fate than the most complete stranger in her service." His grandfather, Emperor Francis, seems to have genuinely been kind to the boy. Even while, in 1814, 1816, and 1830, he ensured the child had no chance of his glorious inheritance, he still appears to have cared for him personally and remained kind. There is no truth to the tale that the Austrians neglected his education and allowed his abilities to decline. Both his tutor, Count Maurice Dietrichstein, and Marshal Marmont, who spoke with him in 1831, praised him as full of potential; Marmont's testimony is especially valuable as it shows that the Austrians did not mind the Duke of Reichstadt (as his grandfather had named him in 1818) learning everything he could about his father's life from one of the Marshals. In 1831, Marmont describes him: "I recognized his father's features in him, and in that, he resembled Napoleon the most. His eyes, less large than Napoleon's and set deeper in their sockets, carried the same expression, the same fire, and the same energy. His forehead resembled his father's, as did the lower part of his face and his chin. His complexion was that of a young Napoleon, with the same pallor and skin tone, but the rest of his face reminded me of his mother and the House of Austria. He was about three inches taller than Napoleon."







      As long as the Duke lived his name was naturally the rallying-point of the
      Bonapartes, and was mentioned in some of the many conspiracies against the
      Bourbons. In 1830 Joseph Bonaparte tried to get the sanction of the
      Austrians to his nephew being put forward as a claimant to the throne of
      France, vacant by the flight of Charles X., but they held their captive
      firmly. A very interesting passage is given in the 'Memoirs of Charles
      Greville', who says that Prince Esterhazy told him a great deal about the
      Duke of Reichstadt, who, if he had lived, would have probably played a
      great part in the world. He died of a premature decay, brought on,
      apparently, by over-exertion and over-excitement; his talents were very
      conspicuous, he was 'petri d'ambition', worshipped the memory of his
      father, and for that reason never liked his mother; his thoughts were
      incessantly turned towards France, and when he heard of the Days of July
      (overthrow of Charles X.) he said, "Why was I not there to take my chance?
      He evinced great affection and gratitude to his grandfather, who, while he
      scrupulously observed all his obligations towards Louis Philippe, could
      not help feeling a secret pride in the aspiring genius of Napoleon's son.
      He was well educated, and day and night pored over the history of his
      father's glorious career. He delighted in military exercises, and not only
      shone at the head of his regiment, but had already acquired the hereditary
      art of ingratiating himself with the soldiers." Esterhazy went on to
      describe how the Duke abandoned everything at a ball when he met there
      Marshals Marmont and Maison. "He had no eyes or ears but for them; from
      nine in the evening to five the next morning he devoted himself to these
      Marshals." There was the true Napoleonic ring in his answer to advice
      given by Marmont when the Duke said that he would not allow himself to be
      put forward by the Sovereigns of Europe. "The son of Napoleon should be
      too great to serve as an instrument; and in events of that nature I wish
      not to be an advanced guard, but a reserve,—that is, to come as a
      succour, recalling great memories."
    
As long as the Duke was alive, his name naturally became the rallying point for the Bonapartes and was mentioned in several conspiracies against the Bourbons. In 1830, Joseph Bonaparte sought the approval of the Austrians for his nephew to be put forward as a claimant to the vacant throne of France after Charles X fled, but they held their captive tightly. A fascinating account can be found in the 'Memoirs of Charles Greville', where he mentions that Prince Esterhazy shared a lot about the Duke of Reichstadt, who, had he lived, would likely have played a significant role in the world. He died prematurely, seemingly from overexertion and excitement; his talents were widely recognized, he was "filled with ambition," idolized his father's memory, and because of that, never got along with his mother. His thoughts were constantly focused on France, and upon hearing about the July Days (the overthrow of Charles X), he exclaimed, "Why wasn’t I there to seize my chance?" He showed deep affection and gratitude to his grandfather, who, while carefully fulfilling all his obligations to Louis Philippe, couldn't help but feel a secret pride in the ambition of Napoleon's son. He received a solid education and spent every waking hour studying his father's glorious history. He loved military drills and not only excelled as the leader of his regiment but had also mastered the family trait of winning over the soldiers. Esterhazy further described how the Duke abandoned everything at a ball when he encountered Marshals Marmont and Maison. "He had eyes and ears only for them; from nine in the evening until five the next morning, he devoted himself to these Marshals." There was a distinct Napoleonic quality in his response to advice from Marmont when the Duke insisted that he would not allow himself to be promoted by the European monarchs. "The son of Napoleon should be too significant to act as a tool; in such matters, I prefer not to be the vanguard, but a reserve—that is, to come as support, recalling great memories."







      His death in 1832, on the 22d of July, the anniversary of the battle of
      Salamanca, solved many questions. Metternich visited the Duke on his
      deathbed: "It was a heartrending sight. I never remember to have seen a
      more mournful picture of decay." When Francis was told of the death of his
      grandson he answered, "I look upon the Duke's death as a blessing for him.
      Whether it be detrimental or otherwise to the public good I do not know.
      As for myself, I shall ever lament the loss of my grandson."
    
His death in 1832, on July 22, the anniversary of the Battle of Salamanca, resolved many questions. Metternich visited the Duke on his deathbed: "It was a heartbreaking sight. I can’t recall ever seeing a more sorrowful image of decline." When Francis was informed about his grandson’s death, he responded, "I see the Duke’s death as a blessing for him. Whether it's harmful or beneficial for the public good, I don't know. As for me, I will always mourn the loss of my grandson."







      Josephine was in her grave at Rueil when Napoleon returned. She had died
      on the 29th of May 1814, at Malmaison, while the Allies were exhibiting
      themselves in Paris. It seems hard that she should not have lived to enjoy
      a triumph, however brief, over her Austrian rival. "She, at least," said
      Napoleon truly, "would never have abandoned me."
    
Josephine was in her grave at Rueil when Napoleon came back. She had died on May 29, 1814, at Malmaison, while the Allies were showing off in Paris. It seems unfair that she didn't live to experience a victory, even if it was short-lived, over her Austrian rival. "She, at least," Napoleon said truthfully, "would never have left me."







      Josephine's daughter, Hortense, separated from her husband, Louis
      Bonaparte, and created Duchess of St Leu by Louis XVIII., was in Paris,
      much suspected by the Bourbons, but really engaged in a lawsuit with her
      husband about the custody of her sons. She had to go into hiding when the
      news of the landing arrived, but her empty house, left unwatched, became
      very useful for receiving the Bonapartists, who wished for a place of
      concealment, amongst them, as we shall see, being, of all people, Fouché!
      Hortense was met by Napoleon with some reproaches for accepting a title
      from the Bourbons, but she did the honours of the Elysee for him, and it
      is creditable to both of them that, braving the vile slanders about their
      intercourse, she was with him to the end; and that one of the last persons
      to embrace him at Malmaison before he started for the coast was his
      adopted daughter, the child of his discarded wife. Hortense's presence in
      Paris was thought to be too dangerous by the Prussian Governor; and she
      was peremptorily ordered to leave. An appeal to the Emperor Francis
      received a favourable answer, but Francis always gave way where any act
      against his son-in-law was in question, and she had to start at the
      shortest notice on a wandering life to Aix, Baden, and Constance, till the
      generosity of the small but brave canton of Thurgau enabled her to get a
      resting-place at the Chateau of Arenenberg.
    
Hortense, Josephine's daughter, had separated from her husband, Louis Bonaparte, and was made Duchess of St Leu by Louis XVIII. While in Paris, she was highly suspected by the Bourbons, but she was actually involved in a legal battle with her husband over the custody of their sons. When news of the landing came, she had to go into hiding, but her empty house, left unguarded, became very useful for Bonapartists looking for a place to hide, including, as we will see, Fouché! Napoleon met Hortense with some criticism for accepting a title from the Bourbons, but she hosted him at the Elysee, showing commendable loyalty to each other despite the nasty rumors about their relationship. She stayed with him until the end, and one of the last people to embrace him at Malmaison before he headed to the coast was his adopted daughter, the child of his ex-wife. The Prussian Governor deemed Hortense's presence in Paris too risky and ordered her to leave immediately. An appeal to Emperor Francis got a positive response, but Francis always yielded when it came to anything against his son-in-law, forcing her to quickly embark on a wandering life to Aix, Baden, and Constance, until the generosity of the small yet brave canton of Thurgau allowed her to find refuge at the Chateau of Arenenberg.







      In 1831 she lost her second son, the eldest then surviving, who died from
      fever in a revolutionary attempt in which he and his younger brother, the
      future Napoleon. III., were engaged. She was able to visit France
      incognito, and even to see Louis Philippe and his Queen; but her presence
      in the country was soon thought dangerous, and she was urged to leave. In
      1836 Hortense's last child, Louis Napoleon, made his attempt at an
      'emeule' at Strasburg, and was shipped off to America by the Government.
      She went to France to plead for him, and then, worn out by grief and
      anxiety, returned to Arenenberg, which her son, the future Emperor, only
      succeeded in reaching in time to see her die in October 1837. She was laid
      with Josephine at Rueil.
    
In 1831, she lost her second son, the oldest surviving at the time, who died of fever during a revolutionary attempt that involved him and his younger brother, the future Napoleon III. She managed to visit France secretly and even met with Louis Philippe and his Queen; however, her presence in the country was soon deemed risky, and she was advised to leave. In 1836, Hortense's last child, Louis Napoleon, attempted a coup in Strasburg and was sent to America by the Government. She traveled to France to advocate for him, but after being worn out by grief and worry, she returned to Arenenberg, where her son, the future Emperor, arrived just in time to see her pass away in October 1837. She was buried next to Josephine at Rueil.







      Hortense's brother, Prince Eugène, the Viceroy of Italy, was at Vienna
      when Napoleon returned, and fell under the suspicion of the Allies of
      having informed the Emperor of the intention of removing him from Elba. He
      was detained in Bavaria by his father-in-law the King, to whose Court he
      retired, and who in 1817 created him Duke of Leuchtenberg and Prince of
      Eichstadt. With the protection of Bavaria he actually succeeded in
      wringing from the Bourbons some 700,000 francs of the property of his
      mother. A first attack of apoplexy struck him in 1823, and he died from a
      second in February 1824 at Munich. His descendants have intermarried into
      the Royal Families of Portugal, Sweden, Brazil, Russia, 'and Wartemberg;
      his grandson now (1884) holds the title of Leuchtenberg.
    
Hortense's brother, Prince Eugène, the Viceroy of Italy, was in Vienna when Napoleon returned and was suspected by the Allies of having informed the Emperor about the plan to remove him from Elba. He was held in Bavaria by his father-in-law, the King, to whose court he retired, and who created him Duke of Leuchtenberg and Prince of Eichstadt in 1817. With Bavaria's support, he managed to obtain around 700,000 francs worth of his mother's property from the Bourbons. He suffered his first stroke in 1823 and died from a second one in February 1824 in Munich. His descendants have intermarried with the royal families of Portugal, Sweden, Brazil, Russia, and Württemberg; his grandson currently holds the title of Leuchtenberg (1884).







      Except Louis, an invalid, all the brothers of the Emperor were around him
      in the Cent Jours, the supreme effort of their family. Joseph had left
      Spain after Vittoria, and had remained in an uncomfortable and
      unrecognised state near Paris until in 1814 he was again employed, and
      when, rightly or not, he urged the retreat of the Regency from Paris to
      Blois. He then took refuge at his chateau of Prangins in the canton Vaud
      in Switzerland, closely watched by the Bourbonists, who dreaded danger
      from every side except the real point, and who preferred trying to hunt
      the Bonapartists from place to place, instead of making their life
      bearable by carrying out the engagements with them.
    
Except for Louis, who was disabled, all the Emperor's brothers were around him during the Cent Jours, their family's ultimate effort. Joseph had left Spain after Vittoria and had stayed in an uncomfortable and unrecognized situation near Paris until 1814 when he was called into action again, and when, whether rightly or wrongly, he pushed for the Regency to retreat from Paris to Blois. He then took refuge at his chateau in Prangins, in the Vaud canton of Switzerland, being closely monitored by the Bourbonists, who feared threats from every direction except the real one, and who preferred to chase the Bonapartists around rather than make their lives easier by honoring their agreements with them.







      In 1816, escaping from the arrest with which he was threatened, after
      having written to urge Murat to action with fatal effect, Joseph joined
      Napoleon in Paris, and appeared at the Champ de Mai, sitting also in the
      Chamber of Peers, but, as before, putting forward ridiculous pretensions
      as to his inherent right to the peerage, and claiming a special seat. In
      fact, he never could realise how entirely he owed any position to the
      brother he wished to treat as an equal.
    
In 1816, fleeing from the threat of arrest after urging Murat to take action with serious consequences, Joseph joined Napoleon in Paris. He showed up at the Champ de Mai and also sat in the Chamber of Peers, but, like before, made absurd claims about his inherent right to a peerage, insisting on a special seat. In reality, he never grasped how completely he owed any status to the brother he wanted to regard as his equal.







      He remained in Paris during the brief campaign, and after Waterloo was
      concealed in the house of the Swedish Ambassador, where his sister-in-law,
      the Crown Princess of Sweden, the wife of Bernadotte, was living.
      Muffling, the Prussian Governor of Paris, wished to arrest him, but as the
      Governor could not violate the domicile of an Ambassador, he had to apply
      to the Czar, who arranged for the escape of the ex-King before the
      Governor could seize him Joseph went to the coast, pretty much following
      the route of Napoleon. He was arrested once at Saintes, but was allowed to
      proceed, and he met his brother on the 4th of July, at Rochefort.
    
He stayed in Paris during the short campaign, and after Waterloo, he was hidden in the house of the Swedish Ambassador, where his sister-in-law, the Crown Princess of Sweden, who was married to Bernadotte, was living. Muffling, the Prussian Governor of Paris, wanted to arrest him, but since the Governor couldn't breach the home of an Ambassador, he had to ask the Czar for help, who arranged for the ex-King's escape before the Governor could catch him. Joseph headed to the coast, mostly following Napoleon's route. He was arrested once at Saintes but was allowed to continue, and he met his brother on July 4th at Rochefort.







      It is significant as to the possibility of the escape of Napoleon that
      Joseph succeeded in getting on the brig Commerce as "M. Bouchard," and,
      though the ship was thrice searched by the English, he got to New York on
      the 28th of August, where he was mistaken for Carnot. He was well
      received, and, taking the title of Comte de Survilliers, he first lived at
      Lansdowne, Fairmount Park, Philadelphia, where he afterwards always passed
      part of the year while he was in America. He also bought the property of
      Point Breeze, at Bordentown, on the Delaware, where he built a house with
      a fine view of the river. This first house was burnt down, but he erected
      another, where he lived in some state and in great comfort, displaying his
      jewels and pictures to his admiring neighbours, and showing kindness to
      impecunious nephews.
    
It's significant for the possibility of Napoleon's escape that Joseph managed to get on the brig Commerce under the name "M. Bouchard." Even though the English searched the ship three times, he reached New York on August 28th, where he was mistaken for Carnot. He was warmly welcomed and took the title of Comte de Survilliers. He initially lived at Lansdowne in Fairmount Park, Philadelphia, where he spent part of the year during his time in America. He also purchased the property at Point Breeze in Bordentown on the Delaware River, where he built a house with a beautiful view of the river. This first house burned down, but he built another one, where he lived with considerable comfort and displayed his jewels and paintings to his admiring neighbors while being generous to his financially struggling nephews.







      The news of the Revolution of July in 1830, which drove Charles X. from
      the throne, excited Joseph's hopes for the family of which he considered
      himself the Regent, and he applied to Metternich to get the Austrian
      Government to allow or assist in the placing his nephew, the Duke of
      Reichstadt, on the throne of France. Austria would not even answer.
    
The news of the July Revolution in 1830, which forced Charles X to flee from the throne, fueled Joseph's hopes for the family he believed he was leading. He reached out to Metternich to persuade the Austrian Government to support placing his nephew, the Duke of Reichstadt, on the throne of France. Austria didn’t even respond.







      In July 1832 Joseph crossed to England, where he met Lucien, just arrived
      from Italy, bringing the news of the death of his nephew. Disappointed, he
      stayed in England for some time, but returned to America in 1836. In he
      finally left America, and again came to England, where he had a paralytic
      stroke, and in 1843 he went to Florence, where he met his wife after a
      long separation.
    
In July 1832, Joseph traveled to England, where he met Lucien, who had just arrived from Italy with the news of his nephew's death. Feeling disheartened, he stayed in England for a while before returning to America in 1836. He eventually left America again and came back to England, where he suffered a stroke. In 1843, he went to Florence, where he reunited with his wife after a long time apart.







      Joseph lived long enough to see the two attempts of another nephew, Louis
      Napoleon, at Strasburg in 1836, and at Boulogne in 1840, which seem to
      have been undertaken without his knowledge, and to have much surprised
      him. He died in Florence in 1844; his body was buried first in Santa
      Croce, Florence, but was removed to the Invalides in 1864. His wife the
      ex-Queen, had retired in 1815 to Frankfort and to Brussels, where she was
      well received by the King, William, and where she stayed till 1823, when
      she went to Florence, dying there in 1845. Her monument is in the Cappella
      Riccardi, Santa Croce, Florence.
    
Joseph lived long enough to witness his nephew Louis Napoleon's two attempts, one in Strasburg in 1836 and another in Boulogne in 1840, which seemed to happen without his knowledge and greatly surprised him. He died in Florence in 1844; his body was initially buried in Santa Croce, Florence, but was moved to the Invalides in 1864. His wife, the ex-Queen, had retired in 1815 to Frankfort and then to Brussels, where she was warmly welcomed by King William and stayed until 1823, when she moved to Florence, passing away there in 1845. Her monument is in the Cappella Riccardi, Santa Croce, Florence.







      Lucien had retired to Rome in 1804, on the creation of the Empire, and had
      continued embroiled with his brother, partly from his so-called Republican
      principles, but chiefly from his adhering to his marriage, his second one,
      with Madame Jouberthon,—a union which Napoleon steadily refused to
      acknowledge, offering Lucien anything, a kingdom or the hand of a queen
      (if we take Lucien's account), if he would only consent to the annulment
      of the contract.
    
Lucien had moved to Rome in 1804, when the Empire was established, and had remained in conflict with his brother, partly because of his supposed Republican beliefs, but mostly due to his commitment to his second marriage with Madame Jouberthon—a relationship that Napoleon consistently refused to recognize, offering Lucien anything, a kingdom or the hand of a queen (according to Lucien), if he would just agree to annul the marriage.







      In August 1810, affecting uneasiness as Napoleon stretched his power over
      Rome, Lucien embarked for America, but he was captured by the English and
      taken, first to Malta and then to England, where he passed the years till
      1814 in a sort of honourable captivity, first at Ludlow and then at
      Thorngrove, not far from that town.
    
In August 1810, feeling uneasy as Napoleon expanded his control over Rome, Lucien set off for America, but he was captured by the English and taken first to Malta and then to England, where he spent the years until 1814 in a kind of honorable captivity, initially at Ludlow and then at Thorngrove, not far from that town.







      In 1814 Lucien was released, when he went to Rome, where he was welcomed
      by the kindly old Pope, who remembered the benefits conferred by Napoleon
      on the Church, while he forgot the injuries personal to himself; and the
      stiff-necked Republican, the one-time "Brutus" Bonaparte, accepted the
      title of Duke of Musignano and Prince of Canino.
    
In 1814, Lucien was released and went to Rome, where he was warmly received by the friendly old Pope, who remembered the benefits Napoleon had given to the Church while overlooking his own personal grievances. The stubborn Republican, once known as "Brutus" Bonaparte, accepted the titles of Duke of Musignano and Prince of Canino.







      In 1815 Lucien joined his brother, whom he wished to abdicate at the Champ
      de Mai in favour of the King of Rome, placing his sword only at the
      disposal of France. This step was seriously debated, but, though it might
      have placed the Allies in a more difficult position, it would certainly
      have been disregarded by them, at least unless some great victory had
      given the dynasty firmer footing. After Waterloo he was in favour of a
      dissolution of the Chambers, but Napoleon had become hopeless and almost
      apathetic, while Lucien himself, from his former connection with the 18th
      and 19th Brumaire, was looked on with great distrust by the Chambers, as
      indeed he was by his brother. Advantage was taken of his Roman title to
      taunt him with not being a Frenchman; and all his efforts failed. At the
      end he fled, and failing to cross to England or to get to Rochefort, he
      reached Turin on the 12th of July only to find himself arrested. He
      remained there till the 15th of September, when he was allowed to go to
      Rome. There he was interned and carefully watched; indeed in 1817 the Pope
      had to intervene to prevent his removal to the north of Germany, so
      anxious were the Allies as to the safety of the puppet they had put on the
      throne of France.
    
In 1815, Lucien joined his brother, wanting him to step down at the Champ de Mai in favor of the King of Rome, offering his sword only for the benefit of France. This idea was seriously considered, but while it could have put the Allies in a tougher spot, they would have likely ignored it unless a significant victory had given the dynasty a stronger position. After Waterloo, he supported dissolving the Chambers, but Napoleon had become despairing and almost disinterested, and Lucien, due to his past ties with the 18th and 19th of Brumaire, was viewed with suspicion by the Chambers and his brother alike. His Roman title was used against him to mock his French identity; all his attempts were futile. In the end, he fled, and after failing to reach England or get to Rochefort, he arrived in Turin on July 12th, only to be arrested. He stayed there until September 15th, when he was allowed to go to Rome. There, he was confined and closely monitored; indeed, in 1817, the Pope had to step in to stop his transfer to northern Germany, so concerned were the Allies about the safety of the puppet they had placed on the throne of France.







      The death of Napoleon in 1821 released Lucien and the Bonaparte family
      from the constant surveillance exercised over them till then. In 1830 he
      bought a property, the Croce del Biacco, near Bologna. The flight of the
      elder branch of the Bourbons from France in 1830 raised his hopes, and, as
      already said, he went to England in 1832 to meet Joseph and to plan some
      step for raising Napoleon II. to the throne. The news of the death of his
      nephew dashed all the hopes of the family, and after staying in England
      for some time he returned to Italy, dying at Viterbo in 1840, and being
      buried at Canino, where also his second wife lies. Lucien had a taste for
      literature, and was the author of several works, which a kindly posterity
      will allow to die.
    
The death of Napoleon in 1821 freed Lucien and the Bonaparte family from the constant monitoring they had faced until then. In 1830, he bought a property called Croce del Biacco near Bologna. The flight of the older branch of the Bourbons from France in 1830 raised his hopes, and as mentioned earlier, he went to England in 1832 to meet Joseph and plan a way to put Napoleon II on the throne. The news of his nephew's death crushed all the family's hopes, and after spending some time in England, he returned to Italy, dying in Viterbo in 1840 and being buried in Canino, where his second wife is also laid to rest. Lucien had a passion for literature and wrote several works, which a sympathetic future generation will allow to fade away.







      Louis Bonaparte had fled from his Kingdom of Holland in 1810, after a
      short reign of four years, disgusted with being expected to study the
      interests of the brother to whom he owed his throne, and with being
      required to treat his wife Hortense with ordinary consideration. He had
      taken refuge in Austria, putting that Court in great anxiety how to pay
      him the amount of attention to be expected by the brother of the Emperor,
      and at the same time the proper coldness Napoleon might wish shown to a
      royal deserter. Thanks to the suggestions of Metternich, they seem to have
      been successful in this task. Taking the title of Comte de, St. Len from
      an estate in France; Louis went first to Toplitz, then to Gratz, and in
      1813 he took refuge in Switzerland. In 1814 he went to Rome; and then to
      Florence, where the Grand-Duke Ferdinand received any of the family who
      came there with great kindness.
    
Louis Bonaparte fled from his Kingdom of Holland in 1810 after a brief four-year reign. He was fed up with being expected to look out for the interests of the brother who gave him his throne and with having to treat his wife, Hortense, with basic respect. He found safety in Austria, which left the court anxious about how to give him the attention expected of the brother of the Emperor while also maintaining the proper distance that Napoleon might want to show towards a royal who had run away. Thanks to Metternich's advice, they managed to navigate this delicate situation. Louis took the title of Comte de St. Len from a property in France; he first went to Toplitz, then to Gratz, and in 1813 he found refuge in Switzerland. In 1814, he traveled to Rome, and then to Florence, where Grand-Duke Ferdinand welcomed any family members who arrived there with great kindness.







      Louis was the least interesting of the family, and it is difficult to
      excuse his absence from France in 1815. After all, the present of a
      kingdom is not such an unpardonable offence as to separate brothers for
      ever, and Napoleon seems to have felt deeply the way in which he was
      treated by a brother to whom he had acted as a father; still ill-health
      and the natural selfishness of invalids may account for much. While his
      son Louis Napoleon was flying about making his attempts on France, Louis
      remained in the Roman Palace of the French Academy, sunk in anxiety about
      his religious state. He disclaimed his son's proceedings, but this may
      have been due to the Pope, who sheltered him. Anyhow, it is strange to
      mark the difference between the father and his two sons who came of age,
      and who took to revolution so kindly.
    
Louis was the least interesting member of the family, and it's hard to justify his absence from France in 1815. After all, being given a kingdom isn’t such a terrible reason to permanently separate brothers, and Napoleon seemed to really feel hurt by how a brother he had cared for was treating him; still, poor health and the natural selfishness that comes with being an invalid might explain a lot. While his son Louis Napoleon was busy trying to make his mark on France, Louis stayed at the Roman Palace of the French Academy, consumed with worry about his religious state. He distanced himself from his son's actions, but that might have been influenced by the Pope, who protected him. In any case, it’s odd to see the contrast between the father and his two sons, who embraced revolution so eagerly.







      In 1846 Louis was ill at Leghorn when his son escaped from Ham, where he
      had been imprisoned after his Boulogne attempt. Passports were refused to
      the son to go from Italy to his father, and Louis died alone on the 25th
      of July 1846. He was buried at Santa Croce, Florence, but the body was
      afterwards removed to the village church of St. Leu Taverny, rebuilt by
      his son Napoleon III.
    
In 1846, Louis was sick in Leghorn when his son managed to escape from Ham, where he had been locked up after his Boulogne attempt. His son was denied passports to travel from Italy to see his father, and Louis passed away alone on July 25, 1846. He was buried in Santa Croce, Florence, but later his body was moved to the village church of St. Leu Taverny, which was rebuilt by his son Napoleon III.







      Jerome, the youngest of the whole family, the "middy," as Napoleon liked
      to call him, had been placed in the navy, in which profession he passed as
      having distinguished himself, after leaving his admiral in rather a
      peculiar manner, by attacking an English convoy, and eventually escaping
      the English by running into the port of Concarneau, believed to be
      inaccessible. At that time it was an event for a French man-of-war to
      reach home.
    
Jerome, the youngest in the family, the "middy," as Napoleon liked to call him, had joined the navy, where he was considered to have made a name for himself after leaving his admiral in a rather unique way—by attacking an English convoy and eventually evading the British by taking refuge in the port of Concarneau, which was thought to be impossible to get into. At that time, it was quite a feat for a French warship to make it back home.







      Jerome had incurred the anger of Napoleon by marrying a beautiful young
      lady of Baltimore, a Mica Paterson, but, more obedient than Lucien, he
      submitted to have this marriage annulled by his all-powerful brother, and
      in reward he received the brand-new Kingdom of Westphalia, and the hand of
      a daughter of the King of Wartemberg, "the cleverest King in Europe,"
      according to Napoleon. Jerome is said to have ruled rather more as a
      Heliogabalus than a Solomon, but the new Kingdom had the advantage of
      starting with good administrators, and with the example of "the Code."
    
Jerome angered Napoleon by marrying a beautiful young woman from Baltimore, Mica Paterson. However, more compliant than Lucien, he accepted having this marriage annulled by his powerful brother. As a reward, he was given the new Kingdom of Westphalia and the hand of a daughter of the King of Württemberg, "the smartest King in Europe," as Napoleon called him. Jerome is said to have ruled more like Heliogabalus than Solomon, but the new Kingdom benefited from starting with good administrators and the example of "the Code."







      In 1812 Jerome was given the command of the right wing of the Grand Army
      in its advance against Russia, but he did not fulfil the expectations of
      his brother, and Davoust took the command instead. Every king feels
      himself a born general: whatever else they cannot do, war is an art which
      comes with the crown, and Jerome, unwilling to serve under a mere Marshal,
      withdrew in disgust. In 1813 he had the good feeling and the good sense to
      refuse the treacherous offer of the Allies to allow him to retain his
      kingdom if he joined them against his brother, a snare his sister Caroline
      fell into at Naples.
    
In 1812, Jerome was put in charge of the right wing of the Grand Army as it advanced into Russia, but he didn’t meet his brother’s expectations, and Davoust took over instead. Every king believes he’s a natural general: no matter what else they can’t do, military strategy seems like a skill that comes with the crown, and Jerome, not wanting to serve under a mere Marshal, stepped back in disgust. In 1813, he showed both good judgment and good character by rejecting the Allies' deceitful offer to let him keep his kingdom if he switched sides against his brother, a trap that his sister Caroline fell for in Naples.







      On the downfall of Napoleon, Jerome, as the Count of Gratz, went to
      Switzerland, and then to Gratz and Trieste.
    
On Napoleon's downfall, Jerome, the Count of Gratz, went to Switzerland, and then to Gratz and Trieste.







      His wife, the ex-Queen Catherine, fell into the hands of Maubreuil, the
      officer sent on a mysterious mission, believed to be intended for the
      murder of Napoleon, but which only resulted in the robbery of the Queen's
      jewels and of some 80,000 francs. The jewels were for the most part
      recovered, being fished up from the bed of the Seine, but not the cash.
    
His wife, the former Queen Catherine, was captured by Maubreuil, the officer who was sent on a secret mission, thought to be aimed at assassinating Napoleon, but which ended up just being a theft of the Queen's jewels and about 80,000 francs. Most of the jewels were recovered from the Seine, but the cash was never found.







      In 1815 Jerome joined his brother, and appeared at the Champ de Mai. A
      true Bonaparte, his vanity was much hurt, however, by having—he, a
      real king—to sit on the back seat of the carriage, while his elder
      brother Lucien; a mere Roman-prince, occupied a seat of honour by the side
      of Napoleon. In the Waterloo campaign he was given the 6th division,
      forming part of Reille's corps, General Guilleminot being sent with him to
      prevent any of the awkwardnesses of 1812. His division was engaged with
      the Prussians on the 15th of June, and at Quatre Bras he was severely
      wounded. At Waterloo his division formed the extreme left of the French
      infantry, opposite Hougomont, and was engaged in the struggle for that
      post. Whatever his failings may have been, he is acknowledged to have
      fought gallantly. After the battle he was given the command of the army by
      his brother, and was told to cover the retreat to Laon, which he reached
      on the 21st of June, with 18,000 infantry, 3000 cavalry and two batteries
      which he had rallied. This, be it observed, is a larger force than Ney
      told the Chambers even Grouchy (none of whose men are included) could
      have, and Jerome's strength had swollen to 25,000 infantry and 6000
      cavalry when he handed over the army to Soult at Laon. Napoleon had
      intended to leave Jerome with the command of the army, but he eventually
      took him to Paris.
    
In 1815, Jerome joined his brother and showed up at the Champ de Mai. As a true Bonaparte, he was really upset about having to sit in the back seat of the carriage, while his older brother Lucien, a mere Roman prince, took a place of honor next to Napoleon. During the Waterloo campaign, he was assigned to the 6th division, which was part of Reille's corps, with General Guilleminot sent along to avoid any mess-ups like those in 1812. His division engaged with the Prussians on June 15, and he was seriously wounded at Quatre Bras. At Waterloo, his division was on the far left of the French infantry, facing Hougomont, and took part in the fight for that location. Despite any shortcomings he may have had, he is recognized for fighting bravely. After the battle, his brother put him in charge of the army and instructed him to cover the retreat to Laon, which he reached on June 21 with 18,000 infantry, 3,000 cavalry, and two batteries that he had regrouped. Notably, this is a larger force than Ney claimed even Grouchy (whose men weren't counted) could muster, and Jerome's numbers had increased to 25,000 infantry and 6,000 cavalry by the time he handed command over to Soult at Laon. Napoleon had originally planned to keep Jerome in command of the army, but he ultimately took him back to Paris.







      When Napoleon left the country Jerome was assured by the ambassador of
      Wurtemberg that he would find a refuge in the dominions of his
      father-in-law; but when he arrived there he was informed that if he did
      not wish to be, according to the original intentions of the Allies, handed
      over to the Prussians, and separated from his wife, he must sign an
      engagement to remain in Wurtemberg under strict surveillance. He was then
      imprisoned at Guppingen, and afterwards at Ellwangen, where he was not
      even allowed to write or receive letters except through the captain of the
      chateau.
    
When Napoleon left the country, Jerome was assured by the Wurtemberg ambassador that he would find refuge in his father-in-law's territory. However, upon his arrival, he was informed that if he didn't want to be handed over to the Prussians, as originally intended by the Allies, and separated from his wife, he had to agree to stay in Wurtemberg under strict surveillance. He was then imprisoned in Guppingen, and later in Ellwangen, where he wasn't even allowed to write or receive letters except through the chateau's captain.







      Part of Jerome's troubles came from the conduct of his wife Catherine, who
      had the idea that, as she had been given in marriage by her father to
      Jerome, as she had lived for seven years as his wife, and as she had borne
      a child to him, she was really his wife, and bound to remain with him in
      his misfortunes! The royal family of Wurtemberg, however, following the
      illustrious example of that of Austria, looked on her past life as a mere
      state of concubinage, useful to the family, and to be respected while her
      husband could retain his kingdom, but which should end the moment there
      was nothing more to be gained from Napoleon or his brother. It was all
      proper and decorous to retain the title of King of Wurtemberg, which the
      former Duke and then Elector had owed to the exile of St. Helena, but King
      Frederick, and still less his son William, who succeeded him in 1816,
      could not comprehend Catherine's clinging to her husband when he had lost
      his kingdom. "I was a Queen; I am still a wife and mother," wrote the
      Princess to her disgusted father. Another complaint against this
      extraordinary Princess was that she actually saw Las Cases on his return
      from St. Helena, and thus obtained news of the exile.
    
Part of Jerome's problems came from his wife Catherine's behavior. She believed that since her father had given her in marriage to Jerome, she had lived as his wife for seven years, and had given him a child, she was truly his wife and should stay with him through his hardships. However, the royal family of Wurtemberg, following the example set by Austria, viewed her past life as little more than a situation of concubinage—something that benefited the family and should be respected as long as her husband held onto his kingdom, but which should end the moment there was nothing left to gain from Napoleon or his brother. It was seen as appropriate and respectable to keep the title of King of Wurtemberg, which the former Duke and later the Elector had gained due to the exile of St. Helena, but neither King Frederick nor his son William, who took over in 1816, could understand why Catherine clung to her husband after he lost his kingdom. "I was a Queen; I am still a wife and mother," the Princess wrote to her irritated father. Another criticism of this remarkable Princess was that she actually met with Las Cases upon his return from St. Helena and thus received updates about the exile.







      After constant ill treatment Jerome and his wife, as the Count and
      Countess of Montfort, a rank the King of Wurtemberg afterwards raised to
      Prince, were allowed to proceed to Hainburg near Vienna, then to Florence,
      and, later to Trieste, where Jerome was when his sister Elisa died. In
      1823 they were permitted to go to Rome, and in 1835 they went to Lausanne,
      where his true-hearted wife died the same year. Jerome went to Florence,
      and lived to see the revival of the Empire, and to once more enjoy the
      rank of a French Prince. He died in 1860 at the chateau of Villegenis in
      France, and was buried in the Invalides.
    
After continuous mistreatment, Jerome and his wife, who held the titles of Count and Countess of Montfort—later elevated to Prince by the King of Wurtemberg—were allowed to move to Hainburg near Vienna, then to Florence, and later to Trieste, where Jerome was when his sister Elisa passed away. In 1823, they were granted permission to go to Rome, and in 1835 they traveled to Lausanne, where his devoted wife died that same year. Jerome then went to Florence, living to witness the revival of the Empire and to once again enjoy the status of a French Prince. He died in 1860 at the château of Villegenis in France and was buried in the Invalides.







      The mother of the Emperor, Letitia, in 1814, had retained her title of
      Imperatrice Mere, and had retired to Rome. She then went to Elba in June,
      and stayed there with her daughter Pauline until Napoleon had sailed for
      France. On 2d March 1814 she went from Elba to San Vicenzo near Leghorn,
      and then to Rome. Her son sent a frigate for her, the 'Melpomene', which
      was captured by the English 'Rivoli'; another vessel, the 'Dryade',
      brought her to France, and she joined Napoleon in Paris. We must have a
      regard for this simple old lady, who was always careful and saving, only
      half believing in the stability of the Empire; and, like a true mother,
      always most attentive to the most unfortunate of her children. Her life
      had been full of startling changes; and it must have been strange for the
      woman who had been hunted out of Corsica, flying from her house just in
      time to save her life from the adherents of Paoli, to find herself in
      grandeur in Paris. She saw her son just before he left, as she thought,
      for America, and then retired to the Rinuccini—now the
      Bonaparte-Palace at Rome, where she died in 1836. She had been anxious to
      join Napoleon at St. Helena, and had refused, as long as Napoleon was
      alive, to forgive her daughter Caroline, the wife of Murat, for her
      abandonment of her brother. She was buried at Albano.
    
The mother of the Emperor, Letitia, in 1814, had kept her title of Imperatrice Mere and had moved to Rome. She then went to Elba in June and stayed there with her daughter Pauline until Napoleon sailed for France. On March 2, 1814, she left Elba for San Vicenzo near Leghorn and then went to Rome. Her son sent a frigate for her, the 'Melpomene', which was captured by the English 'Rivoli'; another ship, the 'Dryade', brought her to France, where she joined Napoleon in Paris. We must have appreciation for this simple old lady, who was always careful and thrifty, only half believing in the stability of the Empire; and, like a true mother, always attentive to the most unfortunate of her children. Her life had been full of dramatic changes; and it must have been strange for the woman who had been chased out of Corsica, fleeing her home just in time to save her life from Paoli's supporters, to find herself living in grandeur in Paris. She saw her son just before he left, as she believed, for America, and then retreated to the Rinuccini—now the Bonaparte Palace in Rome, where she died in 1836. She had been eager to join Napoleon at St. Helena and, as long as Napoleon was alive, refused to forgive her daughter Caroline, the wife of Murat, for abandoning her brother. She was buried at Albano.







      Letitia's youngest daughter, the beautiful but frail Pauline, Duchess of
      Guastalla, married first to General Leclerc, and then to Prince Camille
      Borgelle, was at Nice when her brother abdicated in 1814. She retired with
      her mother to Rome, and in October 1814 went to Elba, staying there till
      Napoleon left, except when she was sent to Naples with a message of
      forgiveness for Murat. There was a characteristic scene between her and
      Colonel Campbell when the English Commissioner arrived to find Napoleon
      gone. Pauline professed ignorance till the last of her brother's
      intentions, and pressed the Colonel's hand to her heart that he might feel
      how agitated she was. "She did not appear to be so," says the battered old
      Colonel, who seems to have been proof against her charms. She then went to
      Rome, and later to Pisa. Her health was failing, and, unable to join her
      brother in France, she sent him her only means of assistance, her jewels,
      which were captured at Waterloo. Her offer to go to St. Helena, repeated
      several times, was never accepted by Napoleon. She died in 1825 at
      Florence, from consumption, reconciled to her husband, from whom she had
      been separated since 1807. She was buried at Sta Maria Maggiore, Rome.
    
Letitia's youngest daughter, the beautiful but delicate Pauline, Duchess of Guastalla, was first married to General Leclerc and then to Prince Camille Borgelle. She was in Nice when her brother abdicated in 1814. She moved to Rome with her mother and, in October 1814, went to Elba, where she stayed until Napoleon left, except for a trip to Naples to deliver a message of forgiveness to Murat. There was a telling moment between her and Colonel Campbell when the English Commissioner arrived to find Napoleon gone. Pauline claimed she didn’t know her brother's intentions right up to the end and pressed the Colonel's hand to her heart so he could feel how shaken she was. "She didn’t seem so," said the weary old Colonel, who appeared immune to her charms. She then traveled to Rome and later to Pisa. Her health was declining, and unable to join her brother in France, she sent him her only means of assistance, her jewels, which had been captured at Waterloo. Her offer to go to St. Helena, made several times, was never accepted by Napoleon. She died in 1825 in Florence from tuberculosis, reconciled with her husband, from whom she had been separated since 1807. She was buried at Sta Maria Maggiore in Rome.







      Elisa, the eldest sister of Napoleon, the former Grand Duchess of Tuscany,
      which Duchy she had ruled well, being a woman of considerable talent, was
      the first of all to die. In 1814 she had been forced to fly from her
      Government, and, accompanied by her husband, she had attempted to reach
      France. Finding herself cut off by the Austrians; she took shelter with
      Augereau's army, and then returned to Italy. She took the title of
      Comtesse de Campignana, and retired to Trieste, near which town, at the
      Chateau of Sant Andrea, under a wearisome surveillance, she expired in
      1820, watched by her husband, Felix Baeciocchi, and her sister Caroline.
      Her monument is in the Bacciocchi Chapel in San Petronio, Bologna.
    
Elisa, the oldest sister of Napoleon and the former Grand Duchess of Tuscany, whom she had ruled effectively due to her considerable talent, was the first to pass away. In 1814, she was forced to flee from her government and, along with her husband, tried to make her way to France. Feeling trapped by the Austrians, she took refuge with Augereau's army and then returned to Italy. She adopted the title of Comtesse de Campignana and settled in Trieste, where she lived under constant surveillance at the Chateau of Sant Andrea. She died there in 1820, watched over by her husband, Felix Baeciocchi, and her sister Caroline. Her memorial is located in the Bacciocchi Chapel in San Petronio, Bologna.







      Caroline, the wife of Murat, was the only one of the family untrue to
      Napoleon. Very ambitious, and forgetting how completely she owed her
      Kingdom of Naples to her brother, she had urged Murat in 1814 to separate
      from Napoleon, and, still worse, to attack Eugène, who held the north of
      Italy against the Austrians. She relied on the formal treaty with Austria
      that Murat should retain his Kingdom of Naples, and she may also have
      trusted to the good offices of her former admirer Metternich. When the
      Congress of Vienna met, the French Minister, Talleyrand, at once began to
      press for the removal of Murat. A trifling treaty was not considered an
      obstacle to the Heaven-sent deliverers of Europe, and Murat, believing his
      fate sealed, hearing of Napoleon's landing, and urged on by a misleading
      letter from Joseph Bonaparte, at once marched to attack the Austrians. He
      was easily routed by the Austrians under Neipperg, the future husband of
      Maria Louisa. Murat fled to France, and Caroline first took refuge in an
      English man-of-war, the 'Tremendous', being, promised a free passage to
      England. She was, however, handed over to the Austrians; who kept her in
      confinement at Hainburg near Vienna. In October 1815 Murat landed in
      Calabria in a last wild attempt to recover his throne. He was arrested and
      immediately shot. After his murder Caroline, taking the title of Countess
      of Lipona (an anagram of Napoli), was permitted to retire to Trieste with
      Elisa, Jerome, and his wife. Caroline was almost without means of
      existence, the Neapolitan Bourbons refusing even to give up the property
      she had brought there. She married a General Macdonald. When Hortense was
      buried at Rueil Caroline obtained permission to attend the sad ceremony.
      In 1838 she went to France to try to obtain a pension, and succeeded in
      getting one of 100,000 francs. She died from cancer in the stomach in
      1839, and was buried in the Campo Santo, Bologna.
    
Caroline, Murat's wife, was the only one in the family who was disloyal to Napoleon. Very ambitious and forgetful of how much she owed her brother for the Kingdom of Naples, she pushed Murat in 1814 to break away from Napoleon and, even worse, to attack Eugène, who was holding northern Italy against the Austrians. She relied on the official treaty with Austria that ensured Murat would keep his Kingdom of Naples, and she may have also counted on help from her former admirer, Metternich. When the Congress of Vienna convened, France's minister, Talleyrand, immediately began advocating for Murat's removal. A minor treaty was not seen as a barrier by the liberators of Europe, and Murat, believing his fate was sealed, learned of Napoleon's return and was prompted by a misleading letter from Joseph Bonaparte to march against the Austrians. He was easily defeated by the Austrians under Neipperg, who would later marry Maria Louisa. Murat fled to France, while Caroline initially sought refuge on an English warship, the 'Tremendous', which promised her safe passage to England. However, she was turned over to the Austrians, who kept her confined in Hainburg near Vienna. In October 1815, Murat landed in Calabria in a desperate attempt to reclaim his throne. He was arrested and shot immediately. After his execution, Caroline, taking the title Countess of Lipona (an anagram of Napoli), was allowed to move to Trieste with Elisa, Jerome, and his wife. Caroline had almost no means of support, as the Neapolitan Bourbons refused to return the property she had brought. She ended up marrying General Macdonald. When Hortense was buried at Rueil, Caroline received permission to attend the funeral. In 1838, she went to France to seek a pension and succeeded in obtaining one of 100,000 francs. She died from stomach cancer in 1839 and was buried in the Campo Santo, Bologna.







      Cardinal Fesch, the half-uncle of Napoleon, the Archbishop of Lyons, who
      had fallen into disgrace with Napoleon for taking the side of the Pope and
      refusing to accept the see of Paris, to which he was nominated by
      Napoleon, had retired to Rome in 1814, where he remained till the return
      of Napoleon, when he went to Paris, and accepted a peerage. After Waterloo
      he again sought the protection of the Pope, and he remained at Rome till
      his death in 1839, a few days before Caroline Bonaparte's. He was buried
      in S. Lorenzo in Lucina, Rome. He had for years been a great collector of
      pictures, of which he left a large number (1200) to the town of Ajaccio.
      The Cardinal, buying at the right time when few men had either enough
      leisure or money to think of pictures, got together a most valuable
      collection. This was sold in 1843-44 at Rome. Its contents now form some
      of the greatest treasures in the galleries of Dudley House and of the
      Marquis of Hertford, now Sir Richard Wallace's. In a large collection
      there are generally some daubs, but it is an amusing instance of party
      spirit to find the value of his pictures run down by men who are unwilling
      to allow any one connected with Napoleon to have even taste in art. He
      always refused the demands of the Restoration that he should resign his
      see of Lyons, though under Louis Philippe he offered to do so, and leave
      his pictures to France, if the Bonaparte family were allowed to enter
      France: this was refused.
    
Cardinal Fesch, Napoleon's half-uncle and the Archbishop of Lyons, fell out of favor with Napoleon for siding with the Pope and rejecting the appointment to the see of Paris that Napoleon had nominated him for. He retired to Rome in 1814, where he stayed until Napoleon's return, after which he moved to Paris and accepted a peerage. After the Battle of Waterloo, he sought the Pope's protection again and remained in Rome until his death in 1839, just a few days before Caroline Bonaparte's passing. He was buried in S. Lorenzo in Lucina, Rome. For many years, he was a significant art collector, leaving behind a large collection of paintings (1200) to the town of Ajaccio. The Cardinal built his impressive collection at a time when few had the leisure or the funds to invest in art. This collection was sold in 1843-44 in Rome, and its pieces now form some of the most valuable treasures in the galleries of Dudley House and the Marquis of Hertford, now Sir Richard Wallace's. In a large collection, there are usually some poor-quality works, but it's ironic how critics have downplayed the value of his paintings simply because he was connected to Napoleon. He consistently resisted calls from the Restoration to resign his see of Lyons, though he offered to step down and donate his paintings to France under Louis Philippe's reign, provided the Bonaparte family could return to France; this offer was rejected.







      It can hardly be denied that the fate of the Bonapartes was a hard one.
      Napoleon had been undisputed sovereign of France for fourteen years, Louis
      had been King of Holland for four years, Jerome was King of Westphalia for
      six years, Caroline was Queen of Naples for seven years. If Napoleon had
      forfeited all his rights by leaving Elba after the conditions of his
      abdication had been broken by the Allies, still there was no reason why
      the terms stipulated for the other members of the family should not have
      been carried out, or at least an ordinary income insured to them. With all
      Napoleon's faults he was always ready to shower wealth on the victims of
      his policy:—The sovereigns of the Continent had courted and
      intermarried with the Bonapartes in the fame of that family's grandeur:
      there was neither generosity nor wisdom in treating them as so many
      criminals the moment fortune had declared against them. The conduct of the
      Allies was not influenced simply by the principle of legitimacy, for the
      King of Saxony only kept his throne by the monarchs falling out over the
      spoil. If sovereigns were to be respected as of divine appointment, it was
      not well to make their existence only depend on the fate of war.
    
It’s hard to argue against the fact that the Bonapartes had a tough time. Napoleon was the unquestioned ruler of France for fourteen years, Louis was King of Holland for four years, Jerome ruled Westphalia for six years, and Caroline was Queen of Naples for seven years. Even if Napoleon lost all his rights by leaving Elba once the Allies broke the conditions of his abdication, there was still no reason for the agreements made for the other family members to not be honored, or at least for them not to receive a regular income. Despite all of Napoleon's shortcomings, he was always willing to give wealth to those affected by his decisions. The sovereigns of Europe had sought alliances and married into the Bonaparte family because of its prestige. It was neither generous nor wise to treat them as criminals the moment luck turned against them. The Allies' actions were not solely driven by the principle of legitimacy, as the King of Saxony only retained his throne because the other monarchs were fighting over the spoils. If sovereigns were to be respected as divinely appointed, then it wasn’t wise to let their existence hinge on the outcome of war.







      Nothing in the history of the Cent Jours is more strange than the small
      part played in it by the Marshals, the very men who are so identified in
      our minds with the Emperor, that we might have expected to find that
      brilliant band playing a most prominent part in his last great struggle,
      no longer for mere victory, but for very existence. In recording how the
      Guard came up the fatal hill at Waterloo for their last combat, it would
      seem but natural to have to give a long roll of the old historic names as
      leading or at least accompanying them; and the reader is apt to ask, where
      were the men whose very titles recalled such glorious battle-fields, such
      achievements, and such rewards showered down by the man who, almost alone
      at the end of the day, rode forward to invite that death from which it was
      such cruel kindness to save him?
    
Nothing in the history of the Cent Jours is stranger than the minor role played by the Marshals, the very men so closely associated with the Emperor that we might have expected this impressive group to take a leading role in his final great battle, not just for victory, but for survival. When recounting how the Guard ascended the fateful hill at Waterloo for their last fight, it seems natural to list the old historic names as leading or at least accompanying them; and readers might wonder, where were the men whose very titles reminded us of such glorious battlefields, such achievements, and such rewards given by the man who, almost alone at the end of the day, rode forward to welcome that death from which it was such a cruel kindness to save him?







      Only three Marshals were in Belgium in 1815, and even of them one did but
      count his promotion from that very year, so it is but natural for French
      writers to dream of what might have been the course of the battle if
      Murat's plume had waved with the cavalry, if Mortier had been with the
      Guard, and if Davoust or one of his tried brethren had taken the place of
      Grouchy. There is, however, little real ground for surprise at this
      absence of the Marshals. Death, time, and hardships had all done their
      work amongst that grand array of commanders. Some were old men, veterans
      of the Revolutionary wars, when first created Marshals in 1804; others,
      such as Massena, were now but the wreck of themselves; and even before
      1812 Napoleon had been struck with the failing energy of some of his
      original companions: indeed, it might have been better for him if he had
      in 1813, as he half resolved, cast away his dislike to new faces, and
      fought his last desperate campaigns with younger men who still had
      fortunes to win, leaving "Berthier to hunt at Grosbois," and the other
      Marshals to enjoy their well-deserved rest in their splendid hotels at
      Paris.
    
Only three Marshals were in Belgium in 1815, and of those, one had just been promoted that very year. It’s only natural for French writers to imagine how the battle might have turned out if Murat had led the cavalry, if Mortier had been with the Guard, and if Davoust or one of his reliable peers had replaced Grouchy. However, there’s little reason to be surprised by the absence of the Marshals. Death, time, and hardship had taken their toll on that impressive lineup of commanders. Some were old men, veterans from the Revolutionary Wars, when they were first made Marshals in 1804; others, like Massena, were now just shadows of their former selves. Even before 1812, Napoleon had noticed the declining energy of several of his original comrades. In fact, it might have been better for him if, in 1813, he had followed through on his half-formed idea to set aside his aversion to new faces and fought his last desperate campaigns with younger men eager to make their mark, leaving "Berthier to hunt at Grosbois" and the other Marshals to enjoy their well-deserved rest in their luxurious hotels in Paris.







      Davoust, Duke of Auerstadt, Prince of Eckmuhl, whose name should be
      properly spelt Davout, was one of the principal personages at the end of
      the Cent Jours. Strict and severe, having his corps always in good order,
      and displaying more character than most of the military men under
      Napoleon, one is apt to believe that the conqueror at Auerstadt bade fair
      to be the most prominent of all the Marshals. In 1814 he had returned from
      defending Hamburg to find himself under a cloud of accusations, and the
      Bourbons ungenerously and unwisely left him undefended for acts which they
      must have known were part of his duty as governor of a besieged place. At
      the time he was attacked as if his first duty was not to hold the place
      for France, but to organise a system of outdoor relief for the
      neighbouring population, and to surrender as soon as he had exhausted the
      money in the Government chest and the provisions in the Government stores.
      Sore and discontented, practically proscribed, still Davoust would not
      join in the too hasty enterprise of the brothers Lallemand, who wished him
      to lead the military rising on the approach of Napoleon; but he was with
      the Emperor on the day after his arrival in Paris.
    
Davoust, Duke of Auerstadt, Prince of Eckmuhl, whose name is correctly spelled Davout, was one of the key figures at the end of the Cent Jours. Strict and disciplined, with his corps always well-organized, and showing more character than most of the military leaders under Napoleon, it's easy to think that the conqueror at Auerstadt was destined to be the most prominent of all the Marshals. In 1814, he returned from defending Hamburg only to face a flood of accusations, and the Bourbons unfairly and foolishly left him without support for actions that they must have known were part of his duty as governor of a besieged city. At that time, he was criticized as if his primary responsibility was not to defend the area for France, but to set up a relief system for the local population and to surrender as soon as he depleted the government’s funds and supplies. Upset and disgruntled, effectively exiled, Davoust still refused to partake in the hasty plot of the Lallemand brothers, who wanted him to lead a military uprising with Napoleon's return; however, he was with the Emperor the day after his arrival in Paris.







      Davoust might have expected high command in the army, but, to his
      annoyance, Napoleon fixed on him as War Minister. For several years the
      War Minister had been little more than a clerk, and neither had nor was
      expected to have much influence with the army. Napoleon now wanted a man
      of tried devotion, and of stern enough character to overawe the capital
      and the restless spirits in the army. Much against his will Davoust was
      therefore forced to content himself with the organisation of the forces
      being hastily raised, but he chafed in his position; and it is
      characteristic of him that Napoleon was eventually forced to send him the
      most formal orders before the surly Minister would carry out the Emperor's
      unlucky intention of giving a command to Bourmont, whom Davoust strongly
      and rightly suspected of treachery. When Napoleon left the capital Davoust
      became its governor, and held his post unmoved by the intrigues of the
      Republicans and the Royalists. When Napoleon returned from the great
      disaster Davoust gave his voice for the only wise policy,—resistance
      and the prorogation of the factious Chambers. On the abdication of
      Napoleon the Provisional Government necessarily gave Davoust the command
      of the army which was concentrated round Paris.
    
Davoust might have hoped for a higher position in the army, but, to his frustration, Napoleon chose him as War Minister. For several years, the War Minister had been little more than a clerk, with little to no influence over the army. Now, Napoleon wanted someone with proven loyalty and a strong enough character to keep the capital and the restless military personnel in check. Against his wishes, Davoust was forced to settle for organizing the hastily assembled forces, but he was unhappy in this role; he often felt irritated, and it is typical of him that Napoleon eventually had to issue formal orders before the grumpy Minister would execute the Emperor's misguided plan to give a command to Bourmont, whom Davoust rightfully suspected of treachery. When Napoleon left the capital, Davoust became its governor and maintained his position despite the machinations of both the Republicans and the Royalists. When Napoleon returned from the disastrous campaign, Davoust supported the only sensible approach—resistance and delaying the fractious government. After Napoleon's abdication, the Provisional Government had no choice but to assign Davoust command of the army concentrated around Paris.







      If Davoust had restricted himself less closely to his duty as a soldier,
      if he had taken more on himself, with the 100,000 men he soon had under
      him, he might have saved France from much of her subsequent humiliation,
      or at least he might have preserved the lives of Ney and of the brave men
      whom the Bourbons afterwards butchered. Outwitted by Fouché, and unwilling
      to face the hostility of the Chambers, Davoust at last consented to the
      capitulation of Paris, though he first gave the Prussian cavalry a sharp
      lesson. While many of his comrades were engaged in the great struggle for
      favour or safety, the stern Marshal gave up his Ministry, and, doing the
      last service in his power to France, stopped all further useless bloodshed
      by withdrawing the army, no easy task in their then humour, behind the
      Loire, where he kept what the Royalists called the "Brigands of the Loire"
      in subjection till relieved by Macdonald. He was the only one of the
      younger Marshals who had not been tried in Spain, and so far he was
      fortunate; but, though he was not popular with the army, his character and
      services seem to point him out as the most fit of all the Marshals for an
      independent command. Had Napoleon been successful in 1812, Davoust was to
      have received the Viceroyalty of Poland; and he would probably have left a
      higher name in history than the other men placed by Napoleon to rule over
      his outlying kingdoms. In any case it was fortunate for France and for the
      Allies that a man of his character ruled the army after Napoleon
      abdicated; there would otherwise have been wild work round Paris, as it
      was only with the greatest difficulty and by the force of his authority
      and example that Davoust succeeded in getting the army to withdraw from
      the capital, and to gradually adopt the white cockade. When superseded by
      Macdonald he had done a work no other man could have accomplished. He
      protested against the proscription, but it was too late; his power had
      departed. In 1819 he was forgiven for his services to France, and was made
      a peer, but he died in 1823, only fifty-three years old.
    
If Davoust had stuck less strictly to his role as a soldier, if he had taken more initiative with the 100,000 men he soon commanded, he might have saved France from much of her later humiliation, or at least he could have saved the lives of Ney and the brave men whom the Bourbons later executed. Outmaneuvered by Fouché and reluctant to confront the hostility of the Chambers, Davoust ultimately agreed to the surrender of Paris, though he first delivered a sharp lesson to the Prussian cavalry. While many of his peers were caught up in the intense struggle for favor or safety, the stern Marshal stepped down from his Ministry and, as his final service to France, ended all further pointless bloodshed by withdrawing the army—no easy task considering their mood—behind the Loire, where he kept what the Royalists referred to as the "Brigands of the Loire" in check until Macdonald arrived. He was the only younger Marshal who hadn’t been tested in Spain, which proved to be a stroke of luck; however, despite not being popular with the army, his character and contributions indicated he was the most qualified of all the Marshals for an independent command. If Napoleon had succeeded in 1812, Davoust was slated to receive the Viceroyalty of Poland, and he likely would have left a more significant mark on history than other leaders Napoleon appointed to oversee his distant territories. Regardless, it was fortunate for France and the Allies that a man of his character was in charge of the army after Napoleon abdicated; otherwise, Paris would have descended into chaos. It was only through his strong authority and example that Davoust managed to get the army to pull back from the capital and gradually adopt the white cockade. When he was replaced by Macdonald, he had accomplished a task no one else could have done. He protested against the proscription, but it was too late; his influence had faded. In 1819, he was pardoned for his services to France and made a peer, but he died in 1823 at the young age of fifty-three.







      Among the Marshals who gave an active support to Napoleon Ney takes the
      leading part in most eyes; if it were only for his fate, which is too well
      known for much to be said here concerning it. In 1815 Ney was commanding
      in Franche-Comte, and was called up to Paris and ordered to go to Besancon
      to march so as to take Napoleon in flank. He started off, not improbably
      using the rough brags afterwards attributed to him as most grievous sins,
      such as that "he would bring back Napoleon in an iron cage." It had been
      intended to have sent the Duc de Berry, the second son of the Comte
      d'Artois, with Ney; and it was most unfortunate for the Marshal that this
      was not done. There can be no possible doubt that Ney spoke and acted in
      good faith when he left Paris. One point alone seems decisive of this. Ney
      found under him in command, as General of Division, Bourmont, an officer
      of well-known Royalist opinions, who had at one time served with the
      Vendean insurgents, and who afterwards deserted Napoleon just before
      Waterloo, although he had entreated to be employed in the campaign. Not
      only did Ney leave Bourmont in command, but, requiring another Divisional
      General, instead of selecting a Bonapartist, he urged Lecourbe to leave
      his retirement and join him. Now, though Lecourbe was a distinguished
      General, specially famed for mountain warfare—witness his services
      in 1799 among the Alps above Lucerne—he had been long left
      unemployed by Napoleon on account of his strong Republican opinions and
      his sympathy with Moreau. These two Generals, Bourmont and Lecourbe, the
      two arms of Ney as commander, through whom alone he could communicate with
      the troops, he not only kept with him, but consulted to the last, before
      he declared for Napoleon. This would have been too dangerous a thing for a
      tricky politician to have attempted as a blind, but Ney was well known to
      be only too frank and impulsive. Had the Duc de Berry gone with him, had
      Ney carried with him such a gage of the intention of the Bourbons to
      defend their throne, it is probable that he would have behaved like
      Macdonald; and it is certain that he would have had no better success. The
      Bonapartists themselves dreaded what they called the wrong-headedness of
      Ney. It was, however, thought better to keep the Duc de Berry in safety.
    
Among the Marshals who actively supported Napoleon, Ney stands out to most people, especially considering his fate, which is too well-known to discuss in detail here. In 1815, Ney was in charge in Franche-Comté when he was summoned to Paris and ordered to go to Besançon to flank Napoleon. He set off, likely using the harsh boasts later attributed to him, like claiming "he would bring Napoleon back in an iron cage." It was originally planned for the Duc de Berry, the second son of the Comte d'Artois, to accompany Ney, and it was unfortunate for the Marshal that this didn't happen. There is no doubt that Ney acted in good faith when he left Paris. One point seems conclusive: Ney left Bourmont, a General of Division with known Royalist views who had previously fought with the Vendean insurgents and later deserted Napoleon just before Waterloo, in command. Not only did Ney keep Bourmont in command, but when he needed another Divisional General, instead of choosing a Bonapartist, he asked Lecourbe to leave his retirement to join him. Although Lecourbe was a distinguished General known for his mountain warfare—evident from his services in the Alps near Lucerne in 1799—he had been sidelined by Napoleon due to his strong Republican views and sympathy with Moreau. Ney kept both Bourmont and Lecourbe, the two men crucial for his command and communication with the troops, with him and consulted them until he decided to support Napoleon. A cunning politician wouldn't have dared to act so openly, but Ney was known to be too straightforward and impulsive. If the Duc de Berry had gone with him, and Ney had taken a sign of the Bourbons' intention to defend their throne, he likely would have acted like Macdonald, and it's certain he wouldn't have had better results. The Bonapartists themselves feared what they regarded as Ney's stubbornness. However, it was deemed wiser to keep the Duc de Berry safe.







      Ney found himself put forward singly, as it were, to oppose the man whom
      all France was joining; he found, as did every officer sent on a similar
      mission, that the soldiers were simply waiting to meet Napoleon; and while
      the Princes sought security, while the soldiers plotted against their
      leaders, came the calls of the Emperor in the old trumpet tone. The eagle
      was to fly—nay, it was flying from tower to tower, and victory was
      advancing with a rush. Was Ney to be the one man to shoot down his old
      leader? could he, as he asked, stop the sea with his hands? On his trial
      his subordinate, Bourmont, who had by that time shown his devotion to the
      Bourbons by sacrificing his military honour, and deserting to the Allies,
      was asked whether Ney could have got the soldiers to act against the
      Emperor. He could only suggest that if Ney had taken a musket and himself
      charged, the men would have followed his example. "Still," said Bourmont,
      "I would not dare to affirm that he (the Marshal) would have won." And who
      was Ney to charge? We know how Napoleon approached the forces sent to
      oppose him: he showed himself alone in the front of his own troops. Was
      Ney to deliberately kill his old commander? was any general ever expected
      to undergo such a test? and can it be believed that the soldiers who
      carried off the reluctant Oudinot and chased the flying Macdonald, had
      such a reverence for the "Rougeot," as they called him, that they would
      have stood by while he committed this murder? The whole idea is absurd: as
      Ney himself said at his trial, they would have "pulverized" him.
      Undoubtedly the honourable course for Ney would have been to have left his
      corps when he lost control over them; but to urge, as was done afterwards,
      that he had acted on a preconceived scheme, and that his example had such
      weight, was only malicious falsehood. The Emperor himself knew well how
      little he owed to the free will of his Marshal, and he soon had to send
      him from Paris, as Ney, sore at heart, and discontented with himself and
      with both sides, uttered his mind with his usual freedom. Ney was first
      ordered to inspect the frontier from Dunkirk to Bale, and was then allowed
      to go to his home. He kept so aloof from Napoleon that when he appeared on
      the Champ de Mai the Emperor affected surprise, saying that he thought Ney
      had emigrated. At the last moment Marshal Mortier fell ill. Ney had
      already been sent for. He hurried up, buying Mortier's horses (presumably
      the ill-fated animals who died under him at Waterloo), and reached the
      army just in time to be given the command of the left wing.
    
Ney found himself standing alone to oppose the man whom all of France was rallying behind; he realized, like every officer sent on a similar mission, that the soldiers were just waiting to join Napoleon. As the princes sought safety and the soldiers plotted against their leaders, the calls of the Emperor echoed in an old, familiar tone. The eagle was set to soar—no, it was already soaring from tower to tower, and victory was charging forward. Was Ney really supposed to be the one to take down his old leader? Could he, as he wondered, stop the tide with his bare hands? During his trial, his subordinate, Bourmont—who had by then proved his loyalty to the Bourbons by sacrificing his military honor and defecting to the Allies—was asked if Ney could have rallied the soldiers to act against the Emperor. He could only suggest that if Ney had grabbed a musket and charged himself, the men would have followed his lead. "Still," Bourmont said, "I wouldn’t dare claim that he (the Marshal) would have succeeded." And who was Ney to charge? We know how Napoleon approached the forces sent to counter him: he appeared boldly at the front of his troops. Was Ney really supposed to deliberately kill his former commander? Was any general ever expected to face such a situation? And can anyone believe that the soldiers who forced the unwilling Oudinot to retreat and pursued the fleeing Macdonald held such reverence for the "Rougeot," as they called him, that they would stand by while he committed murder? The whole notion is ridiculous: as Ney stated during his trial, they would have "pulverized" him. Clearly, the honorable choice for Ney would have been to leave his corps when he lost control over them; but to later claim, as some did, that he had acted on a predetermined plan, and that his example carried such weight, was simply a malicious lie. The Emperor himself understood how little he could rely on his Marshal's free will, and soon had to send him away from Paris, as Ney, feeling heartbroken and discontented with himself and both sides, expressed his opinions quite freely. Ney was initially tasked with inspecting the frontier from Dunkirk to Bale, and then he was allowed to head home. He kept his distance from Napoleon, so much so that when he showed up at the Champ de Mai, the Emperor pretended to be surprised, saying he thought Ney had fled the country. At the last moment, Marshal Mortier fell ill. Ney had already been summoned. He rushed over, acquiring Mortier's horses (likely the unfortunate creatures that perished under him at Waterloo), and reached the army just in time to take command of the left wing.







      It has been well remarked that the very qualities which made Ney
      invaluable for defence or for the service of a rear-guard weighed against
      him in such a combat as Quatre Bras. Splendid as a corps leader, he had
      not the commander's eye to embrace the field and surmise the strength of
      the enemy at a glance. At Bautzen in 1818 his staff had been unable to
      prevent him from leaving the route which would have brought him on the
      very rear of the enemy, because seeing the foe, and unable to resist the
      desire of returning their fire, he turned off to engage immediately. At
      Quatre Bras, not seeing the force he was engaged with, believing he had
      the whole English army on his hands from the first, he let himself at the
      beginning of the day be imposed upon by a mere screen of troops.
    
It has been noted that the very qualities that made Ney essential for defense or for rear-guard service worked against him in a battle like Quatre Bras. While he was brilliant as a corps leader, he lacked the commander's ability to take in the whole battlefield and assess the enemy's strength at a glance. During the battle of Bautzen in 1818, his staff couldn't stop him from veering off the route that would have placed him right behind the enemy because, upon seeing them, he couldn't resist the urge to return their fire and immediately engaged instead. At Quatre Bras, not realizing the actual force he was facing and thinking he was up against the entire English army from the start, he allowed himself to be misled by just a small screen of troops at the beginning of the day.







      We cannot here go into Ney's behaviour at Waterloo except to point out
      that too little importance is generally given to the fact of the English
      cavalry having, in a happy moment, fallen on and destroyed the artillery
      which was being brought up to sweep the English squares at close quarters.
      At Waterloo, as in so many other combats, the account of Ney's behaviour
      more resembles that of a Homeric hero than of a modern general. To the
      ideal commander of to-day, watching the fight at a distance, calmly
      weighing its course, undisturbed except by distant random shots, it is
      strange to compare Ney staggering through the gate of Konigsberg all
      covered with blood; smoke and snow, musket in hand, announcing himself as
      the rear-guard of France, or appearing, a second Achilles, on the ramparts
      of Smolensko to encourage the yielding troops on the glacis, or amidst the
      flying troops at Waterloo, with uncovered head and broken sword, black
      with powder, on foot, his fifth horse killed under him, knowing that life,
      honour, and country were lost, still hoping against hope and attempting
      one more last desperate rally. If he had died—ah! if he had died
      there—what a glorious tomb might have risen, glorious for France as
      well as for him, with the simple inscription, "The Bravest of the Brave."
    
We can't really delve into Ney's actions at Waterloo, except to highlight that people often underestimate how important it was when the English cavalry, in a fortunate moment, attacked and destroyed the artillery that was being brought up to blast the English formations at close range. At Waterloo, like in many other battles, Ney's actions resemble those of a heroic figure from an epic poem rather than a modern general. When you think about the ideal commander today, observing the battle from a distance, calmly assessing the situation, unaffected except by occasional distant gunfire, it's striking to compare that to Ney stumbling through the gates of Konigsberg, covered in blood, smoke, and snow, musket in hand, declaring himself the rear guard of France. Or think of him appearing like a second Achilles on the walls of Smolensk, rallying his retreating troops on the battlefield, or amidst the panicking soldiers at Waterloo, with his head bare and his sword broken, covered in gunpowder, on foot, with his fifth horse killed under him, knowing that life, honor, and country were lost, yet still clinging to hope and trying for one final desperate charge. If he had died—oh! if he had died there—what a magnificent tomb could have been built, glorious for both France and himself, with the simple inscription, "The Bravest of the Brave."







      Early on the 19th June a small band of officers retreating from the field
      found Ney asleep at Marchiennes, "the first repose he had had for four
      days," and they did not disturb him for orders. "And indeed what order
      could Marshal Ney have given?" The disaster of the day, the overwhelming
      horror of the flight of the beaten army, simply crushed Ney morally as
      well as physically. Rising in the Chambers he denounced all attempt at
      further resistance. He did not know, he would not believe, that Grouchy
      was safe, and that the army was fast rallying. Fresh from the field, with
      all its traces on him, the authority of Ney was too great for the
      Government. Frightened friends, plotting Royalists, echoed the wild words
      of Ney brave only against physical dangers. Instead of dying on the
      battle-field, he had lived to ensure the return of the Bourbons, the fall
      of Bonaparte, his own death, and the ruin of France.
    
Early on June 19th, a small group of officers retreating from the battlefield found Ney asleep in Marchiennes, "the first rest he had gotten in four days," and they didn’t wake him for orders. "And what orders could Marshal Ney have given anyway?" The disaster of the day, the overwhelming horror of the retreat of the defeated army, had completely crushed Ney both morally and physically. Standing in the Chambers, he denounced any attempts at further resistance. He didn’t know, and wouldn’t believe, that Grouchy was safe and that the army was quickly regrouping. Fresh from the battlefield, with all its signs on him, Ney's authority was too powerful for the Government to ignore. Frightened allies and scheming Royalists echoed Ney’s frantic words, brave only when facing physical danger. Instead of dying on the battlefield, he had survived to help bring back the Bourbons, the downfall of Bonaparte, his own demise, and the devastation of France.







      Before his exception from the amnesty was known Ney left Paris on the 6th
      of July, and went into the country with but little attempt at concealment,
      and with formal passports from Fouché. The capitulation of Paris seemed to
      cover him, and he was so little aware of the thirst of the Royalists for
      his blood that he let his presence be known by leaving about a splendid
      sabre presented to him by the Emperor on his marriage, and recognised by
      mere report by an old soldier as belonging to Ney or Murat; and Ney
      himself let into the house the party sent to arrest him on the 5th of
      August, and actually refused the offer of Excelmans, through whose troops
      he passed, to set him free. No one at the time, except the wretched
      refugees of Ghent, could have suspected, after the capitulation, that
      there was any special danger for Ney, and it is very difficult to see on
      what principle the Bourbons chose their victims or intended victims.
      Drouot, for example, had never served Louis XVIII., he had never worn the
      white cockade, he had left France with Napoleon for Elba, and had served
      the Emperor there. In 1815 he had fought under his own sovereign. After
      Waterloo he had exerted all his great influence, the greater from his
      position, to induce the Guard to retire behind the Loire, and to submit to
      the Bourbons. It was because Davoust so needed him that Drouot remained
      with the army. Stilt Drouot was selected for death, but the evidence of
      his position was too strong to enable the Court to condemn him. Cambronne,
      another selection, had also gone with Napoleon to Elba. Savory, another
      selection, had, as was eventually acknowledged, only joined Napoleon when
      he was in full possession of the reins of Government. Bertrand, who was
      condemned while at St. Helena, was in the same position as Drouot. In
      fact, if any one were to draw up a list of probable proscriptions and
      compare it with those of the 24th of July 1815, there would probably be
      few names common to both except Labedoyere, Mouton Duvernet, etc. The
      truth is that the Bourbons, and, to do them justice, still more the
      rancorous band of mediocrities who surrounded them, thirsted for blood.
      Even they could feel the full ignominy of the flight to Ghent.
    
Before his exclusion from the amnesty became known, Ney left Paris on July 6 and went into the countryside with little effort to hide and with official passes from Fouché. The fall of Paris seemed to protect him, and he was so unaware of the Royalists' desire for his life that he made his presence known by leaving behind a magnificent sabre given to him by the Emperor on his wedding day, which an old soldier recognized as belonging to either Ney or Murat; Ney himself let the group sent to arrest him into his house on August 5 and even turned down Excelmans' offer, through whose troops he passed, to help him escape. At the time, no one except the miserable refugees in Ghent could have guessed that there was any real danger for Ney after the capitulation, and it’s hard to understand the criteria the Bourbons used to choose their victims or intended targets. Drouot, for example, had never served Louis XVIII, had never worn the white cockade, had left France with Napoleon for Elba, and had served the Emperor there. In 1815, he had fought under his own sovereign. After Waterloo, he had used all his considerable influence, enhanced by his rank, to persuade the Guard to retreat behind the Loire and submit to the Bourbons. Drouot remained with the army because Davoust needed him. Yet, Drouot was still marked for death, but the strength of his position was too evident for the Court to condemn him. Cambronne, another one chosen for execution, had also gone with Napoleon to Elba. Savory, yet another candidate, had only joined Napoleon when he was fully in control of the government, as was later acknowledged. Bertrand, who was condemned while at St. Helena, was in the same situation as Drouot. In fact, if anyone were to create a list of likely proscriptions and compare it with those from July 24, 1815, there would probably be few overlapping names, except for Labedoyere, Mouton Duvernet, and others. The truth is that the Bourbons, and to be fair, even more so the spiteful group of mediocrities surrounding them, craved blood. They could even feel the full shame of their flight to Ghent.







      While they had been chanting the glories of the Restoration, the devotion
      of the people, the valour of the Princes, Napoleon had landed, the
      Restoration had vanished like a bad dream, and the Princes were the first
      to lead the way to the frontier. To protest that there had been a
      conspiracy, and that the conspirators must suffer, was the only possible
      cloak for the shame of the Royalists, who could not see that the only
      conspiracy was the universal one of the nation against the miserable men
      who knew not how to govern a high-spirited people.
    
While they were celebrating the triumphs of the Restoration, the loyalty of the people, and the bravery of the Princes, Napoleon had landed, the Restoration disappeared like a nightmare, and the Princes were the first to flee to the border. Claiming that there was a conspiracy and that the conspirators needed to be punished was the only excuse for the shame of the Royalists, who failed to realize that the real conspiracy was the widespread uprising of the nation against the pathetic leaders who couldn’t govern a passionate people.







      Ney, arrested on the 5th of August, was first brought before a Military
      Court on the 9th of November composed of Marshal Jourdan (President),
      Marshals Massena, Augereau, and Mortier, Lieutenants-General Gazan,
      Claparede, and Vilatte (members). Moncey had refused to sit, and Massena
      urged to the Court his own quarrels with Ney in Spain to get rid of the
      task, but was forced to remain. Defended by both the Berryers, Ney
      unfortunately denied the jurisdiction of the court-martial over him as a
      peer. In all probability the Military Court would have acquitted him. Too
      glad at the moment to be free from the trial of their old comrade, not
      understanding the danger of the proceeding, the Court, by a majority of
      five against two, declared themselves non-competent, and on the 21st of
      November Ney was sent before the Chamber of Peers, which condemned him on
      the 6th of December.
    
Ney, arrested on August 5th, was first brought before a Military Court on November 9th, made up of Marshal Jourdan (President), Marshals Massena, Augereau, and Mortier, and Lieutenants-General Gazan, Claparede, and Vilatte (members). Moncey had refused to participate, and Massena tried to avoid the task by bringing up his own conflicts with Ney in Spain, but he was compelled to stay. Defended by both the Berryers, Ney unfortunately claimed that the court-martial had no authority over him as a peer. Most likely, the Military Court would have acquitted him. Eager to avoid the hassle of trying their old comrade and not recognizing the seriousness of the situation, the Court, by a majority of five to two, declared themselves to be without jurisdiction, and on November 21st, Ney was sent to the Chamber of Peers, which convicted him on December 6th.







      To beg the life of his brave adversary would have been such an obvious act
      of generosity on the part of the Duke of Wellington that we maybe pardoned
      for examining his reasons for not interfering. First, the Duke seems to
      have laid weight on the fact that if Ney had believed the capitulation had
      covered him he would not have hidden. Now, even before Ney knew of his
      exception from the amnesty, to appear in Paris would have been a foolish
      piece of bravado. Further, the Royalist reaction was in full vigour, and
      when the Royalist mobs, with the connivance of the authorities, were
      murdering Marshal Brune and attacking any prominent adherents of Napoleon,
      it was hardly the time for Ney to travel in full pomp. It cannot be said
      that, apart from the capitulation, the Duke had no responsibility.
      Generally a Government executing a prisoner, may, with some force, if
      rather brutally, urge that the fact of their being able to try and execute
      him in itself shows their authority to do so. The Bourbons could not even
      use this argument. If the Allies had evacuated France Louis le Desiree
      would have ordered his carriage and have been at the frontier before they
      had reached it. If Frenchmen actually fired the shots which killed Ney,
      the Allies at least shared the responsibility with the French Government.
      Lastly, it would seem that the Duke would have asked for the life of Ney
      if the King, clever at such small artifices, had not purposely affected a
      temporary coldness to him. Few men would have been so deterred from asking
      for the life of a dog. The fact is, the Duke of Wellington was a great
      general, he was a single-hearted and patriotic statesman, he had a
      thousand virtues, but he was never generous. It cannot be said that he
      simply shared the feelings of his army, for there was preparation among
      some of his officers to enable Ney to escape, and Ney had to be guarded by
      men of good position disguised in the uniform of privates. Ney had written
      to his wife when he joined Napoleon, thinking of the little vexations the
      Royalists loved to inflict on the men who had conquered the Continent.
      "You will no longer weep when you leave the Tuileries." The unfortunate
      lady wept now as she vainly sought some mercy for her husband. Arrested on
      the 5th of August, sentenced on the 6th of December, Ney was shot on the
      7th of December, and the very manner of his execution shows that, in
      taking his life there was much more of revenge than of justice.
    
Asking for the life of his brave opponent would have been such an obviously generous act from the Duke of Wellington that we might be forgiven for questioning his reasons for not stepping in. First, the Duke seemed to emphasize that if Ney had believed the surrender applied to him, he wouldn’t have gone into hiding. Even before Ney was aware he was excluded from the amnesty, showing up in Paris would have been a foolish show of bravado. Furthermore, the Royalist backlash was intense, and when the Royalist mobs, with the authorities' approval, were murdering Marshal Brune and attacking any key supporters of Napoleon, it was hardly a safe time for Ney to make a grand appearance. It can't be said that, aside from the surrender, the Duke had no responsibility. In general, a government executing a prisoner might reasonably argue, albeit somewhat harshly, that their ability to try and execute him demonstrates their authority to do so. However, the Bourbons couldn’t even make that claim. If the Allies had withdrawn from France, Louis le Désiré would have summoned his carriage and been at the border before they even left. Even if Frenchmen fired the shots that killed Ney, the Allies still shared the blame with the French government. Lastly, it seems the Duke would have requested Ney's life if the King, skilled in such trivial manipulations, hadn’t deliberately gone cold towards him. Few men would have been so discouraged from asking for the life of a dog. The truth is, while the Duke of Wellington was a great general, a devoted and patriotic statesman, and had many virtues, he was never generous. It can't be said that he merely shared his army's sentiments, as some of his officers were preparing to help Ney escape, and Ney had to be guarded by men of good standing disguised in private uniforms. Ney had written to his wife when he joined Napoleon, considering the small annoyances the Royalists loved to impose on those who had conquered the continent. "You will no longer weep when you leave the Tuileries." The unfortunate woman was now weeping as she desperately sought mercy for her husband. Arrested on August 5th, sentenced on December 6th, Ney was shot on December 7th, and the very nature of his execution suggests that, in taking his life, it was more about revenge than justice.







      If Ney were to be shot, it is obvious that it should have been as a high
      act of justice. If neither the rank nor the services of the criminal were
      to save him, his death could not be too formal, too solemn, too public.
      Even an ordinary military execution is always carried out with grave and
      striking forms: there is a grand parade of the troops, that all may see
      with their own eyes the last act of the law. After the execution the
      troops defile past the body, that all may see the criminal actually dead:
      There was nothing of all this in the execution of Ney. A few chance
      passers, in the early morning of the 7th of December 1815, saw a small
      body of troops waiting by the wall of the garden of the Luxemburg. A
      fiacre drove up, out of which got Marshal Ney in plain clothes, himself
      surprised by the everyday aspect of the place. Then, when the officer of
      the firing party (for such the spectators now knew it to be) saw whom it
      was he was to fire on, he became, it is said, perfectly petrified; and a
      peer, one of the judges of Ney, the Duke de la Force, took his place. Ney
      fell at the first volley with six balls in his breast, three in the head
      and neck, and one in the arm, and in a quarter of an hour the body was
      removed; "plain Michel Ney" as he had said to the secretary enunciating
      his title in reading his sentence, "plain Michel Ney, soon to be a little
      dust."
    
If Ney was to be shot, it was clear that it should have been a significant act of justice. If neither his rank nor his service could save him, his death couldn't be too formal, too solemn, or too public. Even a regular military execution is usually done with serious and dramatic procedures: there's a grand parade of troops so everyone can witness the law's final act. After the execution, the troops march past the body so everyone can see the criminal is truly dead. There was none of this for Ney's execution. A few random bystanders, early in the morning on December 7, 1815, saw a small group of troops waiting by the wall of the Luxembourg garden. A cab pulled up, and out stepped Marshal Ney in plain clothes, clearly surprised by how ordinary the place looked. Then, when the officer of the firing squad (as the onlookers soon realized) saw who he was about to shoot, he reportedly became completely frozen; and a peer, one of Ney's judges, the Duke de la Force, took his place. Ney fell with the first volley, hit by six bullets in his chest, three in his head and neck, and one in his arm, and within a quarter of an hour, his body was removed; "plain Michel Ney," as he had told the secretary reading his sentence, "plain Michel Ney, soon to be a little dust."







      The Communists caught red-handed in the streets of Paris in 1870 died with
      hardly less formality than was observed at the death-scene of the Prince
      of the Moskowa and Duke of Elchingen, and the truth then became plain. The
      Bourbons could not, dared not, attempt to carry out the sentence of the
      law with the forms of the law. The Government did not venture to let the
      troops or the people face the Marshal. The forms of the law could not be
      carried out, the demands of revenge could be. And if this be thought any
      exaggeration, the proof of the ill effects of this murder, for its form
      makes it difficult to call it anything else, is ready to our hands. It was
      impossible to get the public to believe that Ney had really been killed in
      this manner, and nearly to this day we have had fresh stories recurring of
      the real Ney being discovered in America. The deed, however, had really
      been done. The Marshals now knew that when the Princes fled they
      themselves must remain to die for the Royal cause; and Louis had at last
      succeeded in preventing his return to his kingdom amongst the baggage
      waggons of the Allies from being considered as a mere subject for jeers.
      One detail of the execution of Ney, however, we are told nothing of: we do
      not know if his widow, like Madame Labedoyere, had to pay three francs a
      head to the soldiers of the firing party which shot her husband. Whatever
      were the faults of the Bourbons, they at least carried out their
      executions economically.
    
The Communists caught in the streets of Paris in 1870 were executed with almost the same level of formality as seen at the death scene of the Prince of the Moskowa and the Duke of Elchingen, which made the truth clear. The Bourbons could not, and did not dare to, enforce the law according to legal procedures. The Government avoided letting the troops or the people confront the Marshal. Legal procedures could not be followed, but the demands for revenge could. If this seems like an exaggeration, the evidence of the negative consequences of this murder—since its nature makes it hard to call it anything else—is readily available. The public found it hard to believe that Ney had truly been killed in this way, and even to this day, stories continue to emerge of the real Ney being found in America. However, the act had indeed been committed. The Marshals now realized that once the Princes fled, they themselves would have to die for the Royal cause; Louis had finally managed to ensure that his return to his kingdom, hiding among the baggage wagons of the Allies, wasn’t seen as something to mock. One aspect of Ney’s execution, though, remains unknown: we don’t know if his widow, like Madame Labedoyere, had to pay three francs per soldier to the firing squad that executed her husband. Regardless of the Bourbons' faults, at least they carried out their executions with a sense of frugality.







      The statesmen of France, distinguished as they were, certainly did not
      rise to a level with the situation either in 1814 or in 1815. In 1814, it
      is true, they were almost stunned by the crash of the Empire, and little
      as they foresaw the restoration of the Bourbons, still less could they
      have anticipated the extraordinary follies which were to be perpetrated.
      In 1815 there was less excuse for their helplessness, and, overawed as
      they were by the mass of foes which was pouring on them to complete the
      disaster of Waterloo, still it is disappointing to find that there was no
      one to seize the helm of power, and, confronting the Allies, to stipulate
      proper terms for France, and for the brave men who had fought for her. The
      Steady Davoust was there with his 100,000 men to add weight to their
      language, and the total helplessness of the older line of the Bourbons had
      been too evidently displayed to make their return a certainty, so that
      there is no reason to doubt that a firm-hearted patriot might have saved
      France from much of the degradation and loss inflicted on her when once
      the Allies had again got her at their mercy. At-the least the Bourbons
      might have been deprived of the revenge they sought for in taking some of
      the best blood of France. Better for Ney and his comrades to have fallen
      in a last struggle before Paris than to be shot by Frenchmen emboldened by
      the presence of foreign troops.
    
The politicians of France, impressive as they were, certainly didn't rise to the occasion either in 1814 or in 1815. In 1814, they were almost stunned by the collapse of the Empire, and while they had little foresight about the restoration of the Bourbons, they could hardly predict the ridiculous mistakes that would follow. By 1815, there was less justification for their inaction. Even though they were intimidated by the large number of enemies rushing in to finalize the disaster of Waterloo, it’s disappointing that no one stepped up to take control and negotiate fair terms for France, and for the brave soldiers who had fought for her. Steady Davoust was there with his 100,000 troops to lend weight to their words, and the complete ineptitude of the older Bourbon line had made their return uncertain. Therefore, there's no doubt that a determined patriot could have saved France from much of the shame and loss inflicted upon her once the Allies had her at their mercy. At the very least, the Bourbons could have been denied the revenge they sought by executing some of France’s best blood. It would have been better for Ney and his comrades to have fallen in a final struggle before Paris than to be shot by fellow Frenchmen encouraged by the presence of foreign troops.







      Talleyrand, the most prominent figure among the statesmen, was away. His
      absence at Vienna during the first Restoration was undoubtedly the cause
      of many of the errors then committed. His ability as displayed under
      Napoleon has been much exaggerated, for, as the Duke of Wellington said,
      it was easy enough to be Foreign Minister to a Government in military
      possession of Europe, but at least he was above the petty trivialities and
      absurdities of the Bourbon' Court. On the receipt of the news of the
      landing of Napoleon he really seems to have believed that the enterprise
      would immediately end in disaster, and he pressed on the outlawing of the
      man who had overwhelmed him with riches, and who had, at the worst, left
      him when in disgrace in quiet possession of all his ill-gotten wealth.
      But, as the power of Napoleon became more and more displayed, as perhaps
      Talleyrand found that the Austrians were not quite so firm as they wished
      to be considered, and as he foresaw the possible chances of the Orleans
      family, he became rather lukewarm in his attention to the King, to whom he
      had recently been bewailing the hardships of his separation from his loved
      monarch. He suddenly found that, after a Congress, the first duty of a
      diplomatist was to look after his liver, and Carlsbad offered an agreeable
      retreat where he could wait till he might congratulate the winner in the
      struggle.
    
Talleyrand, the most notable figure among the statesmen, was absent. His lack of presence in Vienna during the first Restoration definitely contributed to many of the mistakes made at that time. His skills, showcased under Napoleon, have been greatly overstated, because, as Duke of Wellington noted, it was not difficult to be Foreign Minister to a government that had military control over Europe. However, he did rise above the petty trivialities and absurdities of the Bourbon Court. Upon hearing the news of Napoleon’s return, he honestly seemed to think that the venture would quickly end in failure, and he pushed for the outlawing of the man who had showered him with wealth and who, at worst, had left him in quiet possession of all his ill-gotten gains during his disgrace. But as Napoleon's power grew clearer, and as Talleyrand perhaps noticed that the Austrians were not as steady as they pretended to be, and as he began to foresee the potential prospects of the Orleans family, he became somewhat indifferent towards the King, to whom he had recently been lamenting his separation from his beloved monarch. He soon realized that, after a Congress, the primary duty of a diplomat was to take care of himself, and Carlsbad offered a pleasant escape where he could wait until he could congratulate the victor in the conflict.







      Louis deeply resented this conduct of his Foreign Minister, and when
      Talleyrand at last joined him with all his doubts resolved, the King took
      the first opportunity of dismissing him, leaving the calm Talleyrand for
      once stuttering with rage. Louis soon, however, found that he was not the
      free agent he believed. The Allies did not want to have to again replace
      their puppet on the throne, and they looked on Talleyrand and Fouché as
      the two necessary men. Talleyrand was reinstated immediately, and remained
      for some time at the head of the Ministry. He was, however, not the man
      for Parliamentary Government, being too careless in business, and trying
      to gain his ends more by clever tricks than straightforward measures. As
      for the state into which he let the Government fall, it was happily
      characterised by M. Beugnot. "Until now," said he, "we have only known
      three sorts of governments—the Monarchical, the Aristocratic, and
      the Republican. Now we have invented a new one, which has never been heard
      of before,—Paternal Anarchy."
    
Louis was really upset with his Foreign Minister's behavior, and when Talleyrand finally came to him with all his doubts cleared up, the King quickly seized the chance to dismiss him, leaving the usually composed Talleyrand momentarily speechless with anger. However, Louis soon realized that he wasn't as free to act as he thought. The Allies didn't want to have to replace their puppet on the throne again, viewing Talleyrand and Fouché as the two essential figures. Talleyrand was reinstated right away and stayed at the head of the Ministry for a while. However, he wasn’t suited for a Parliamentary Government; he was too careless with the details and tried to achieve his goals more through clever schemes than direct actions. As for the state he left the Government in, M. Beugnot summed it up nicely: "Until now, we have only known three kinds of governments—the Monarchical, the Aristocratic, and the Republican. Now we have invented a new one that has never been seen before—Paternal Anarchy."







      In September 1815 the elections to the Chamber were bringing in deputies
      more Royalist than the King, and Talleyrand sought to gain popularity by
      throwing over Fouché. To his horror it appeared that, well contented with
      this step, the deputies next asked when the former Bishop was to be
      dismissed. Taking advantage of what Talleyrand conceived to be a happy way
      of eliciting a strong expression of royal support by threatening to
      resign, the King replaced him by the Duc de Richelieu. It was well to cut
      jokes at the Duke and say that he was the man in France who knew most of
      the Crimea (the Duke had been long in the Russian service, with the
      approval of Napoleon), but Talleyrand was overwhelmed. He received the
      same office at Court which he had held under Napoleon, Grand Chamberlain,
      and afterwards remained a sardonic spectator of events, a not unimposing
      figure attending at the Court ceremonials and at the heavy dinners of the
      King, and probably lending a helping hand in 1830 to oust Charles X. from
      the throne. The Monarchy of July sent him as Ambassador to England, where
      he mixed in local politics, for example, plotting against Lord Palmerston,
      whose brusque manners he disliked; and in 1838 he ended his strange life
      with some dignity, having, as one of his eulogists puts it, been faithful
      to every Government he had served as long as it was possible to save them.
    
In September 1815, the elections for the Chamber were bringing in deputies who were more Royalist than the King, and Talleyrand tried to boost his popularity by dropping Fouché. To his dismay, it became clear that the deputies were quite pleased with this move and wanted to know when the former Bishop would be dismissed. Seizing what he thought was a clever way to get a strong show of royal support by threatening to resign, the King replaced him with the Duc de Richelieu. It was easy to make jokes about the Duke, claiming he was the person in France who knew the most about the Crimea (since the Duke had spent a long time in the Russian service, with Napoleon's blessing), but Talleyrand was taken aback. He was given the same position at Court that he had under Napoleon, Grand Chamberlain, and then became a sardonic observer of events, a somewhat imposing figure present at Court ceremonies and the King’s lavish dinners, likely playing a role in the 1830 effort to remove Charles X from the throne. The Monarchy of July appointed him as Ambassador to England, where he engaged in local politics, such as plotting against Lord Palmerston, whose blunt demeanor he didn't like; and in 1838, he ended his unusual life with a degree of dignity, having, as one of his admirers put it, been loyal to every government he served for as long as it was possible to save them.







      With the darker side of Talleyrand's character we have nothing to do here;
      it is sufficient for our purposes to say that the part the leading
      statesman of France took during the Cent Jours was simply nil. In 1814, he
      had let the reins slip through his hands; 1815 he could only follow the
      King, who even refused to adopt his advice as to the proper way in which
      to return to France, and though he once more became Chief Minister,
      Talleyrand, like Louis XVIII., owed his restoration in 1815 solely to the
      Allies.
    
We don't need to focus on the darker aspects of Talleyrand's character here; it’s enough to say that during the Cent Jours, the leading statesman of France had no significant role. In 1814, he let go of control; by 1815, he could only follow the King, who even ignored his suggestions on the best way to return to France. Although he became Chief Minister again, Talleyrand, like Louis XVIII, owed his return in 1815 entirely to the Allies.







      The Comte d'Artois, the brother of the King, and later King himself as
      Charles X., was sent to Lyons, to which place the Duc d'Orleans followed
      him, and where the two Princes met Marshal Macdonald. The Marshal did all
      that man could do to keep the soldiers true to the Bourbons, but he had to
      advise the Princes to return to Paris, and he himself had to fly for his
      life when he attempted to stop Napoleon in person. The Duc d'Orleans was
      then sent to the north to hold Lille, where the King intended to take
      refuge, and the Comte d'Artois remained with the Court.
    
The Comte d'Artois, who was the King’s brother and later became King Charles X, was sent to Lyon, followed by the Duc d'Orleans, where the two Princes met Marshal Macdonald. The Marshal did everything he could to keep the soldiers loyal to the Bourbons, but he had to advise the Princes to return to Paris, and he had to flee for his life when he tried to confront Napoleon directly. The Duc d'Orleans was then sent north to secure Lille, where the King planned to seek refuge, while the Comte d'Artois stayed with the Court.







      The Court was very badly off for money, the King, and Clarke, Duke of
      Feltre, the War Minister, were the only happy possessors of carriages.
      They passed their time, as the Abbe Louis once bitterly remarked, in
      saying foolish things till they had a chance of doing them.
    
The Court was in really bad shape financially, with only the King and Clarke, Duke of Feltre, the War Minister, being lucky enough to have carriages. They spent their time, as Abbe Louis once sarcastically pointed out, saying ridiculous things until they finally had the opportunity to act on them.







      The Comte d'Artois, who, probably wisely, certainly cautiously, had
      refused to go with De Vitrolles to stir up the south until he had placed
      the King in safety, had ended by going to Ghent too, while the Duc de
      Berry was at Alost, close by, with a tiny army composed of the remains of
      the Maison du Roi, of which the most was made in reports. The Duc
      d'Orleans, always an object of suspicion to the King, had left France with
      the Royal party, but had refused to stay in Belgium, as he alleged that it
      was an enemy's country. He crossed to England where he remained, greatly
      adding to the anxiety of Louis by refusing to join him.
    
The Comte d'Artois, probably wisely and certainly cautiously, had turned down De Vitrolles' offer to head south until he had ensured the King's safety. Eventually, he ended up going to Ghent as well, while the Duc de Berry was nearby at Alost, with a small army made up of what's left of the Maison du Roi, which was mostly seen through reports. The Duc d'Orleans, always viewed with suspicion by the King, had left France with the Royal party but refused to stay in Belgium, claiming it was enemy territory. He crossed over to England, where he stayed, greatly increasing Louis' anxiety by refusing to join him.







      The end of these Princes is well known. Louis died in 1824, leaving his
      throne to his brother; but Charles only held it till 1830, when after the
      rising called "the three glorious days of July," he was civilly escorted
      from France, and took shelter in England. The Duc Angouleme died without
      issue. The Duc de Berry was assassinated in 1820, but his widow gave birth
      to a posthumous son the Duc de Bordeaux, or, to fervid Royalists, Henri
      V., though better known to us as the Comte de Chambord, who died in 1883
      without issue, thus ending the then eldest line of Bourbons, and
      transmitting his claims to the Orleans family. On the fall of Charles X.
      the Duc d'Orleans became King of the French, but he was unseated by the
      Revolution of 1848, and died a refugee in England. As the three Princes of
      the House of Condé, the Prince de Condé, his son, the Duc de Bourbon, and
      his: grandson, the Duc d'Enghien, all died without further male issue,
      that noble line is extinct.
    
The fate of these princes is well known. Louis died in 1824, passing his throne to his brother; however, Charles only kept it until 1830, when he was escorted out of France after the uprising known as "the three glorious days of July" and took refuge in England. The Duc d’Angoulême died without children. The Duc de Berry was assassinated in 1820, but his widow gave birth to a posthumous son, the Duc de Bordeaux, or, to passionate Royalists, Henri V., though he is better known to us as the Comte de Chambord, who died in 1883 without any heirs, ending the eldest line of Bourbons and passing his claims to the Orleans family. After Charles X's downfall, the Duc d'Orléans became King of the French, but he was overthrown in the Revolution of 1848 and died as a refugee in England. As the three princes of the House of Condé—the Prince de Condé, his son the Duc de Bourbon, and his grandson the Duc d'Enghien—also died without male heirs, that noble line is now extinct.







      When the news of the escape of Napoleon from Elba reached Vienna on the
      7th of March 1815, the three heads of the Allies, the Emperors of Austria
      and Russia, and the King of Prussia, were still there. Though it was said
      that the Congress danced but did not advance, still a great deal of work
      had really been done, and the news of Napoleon's landing created a fresh
      bond of union between the Allies which stopped all further chances of
      disunion, and enabled them to practically complete their work by the 9th
      of June 1815, though the treaties required cobbling for some years
      afterwards.
    
When the news of Napoleon's escape from Elba reached Vienna on March 7, 1815, the three leaders of the Allies—the Emperors of Austria and Russia and the King of Prussia—were still there. Although people claimed that the Congress was just dancing around without making progress, a lot of actual work had been accomplished. The news of Napoleon's landing formed a new unity among the Allies, eliminating any chances of division and allowing them to nearly finish their work by June 9, 1815, even though the treaties needed some tweaking for a few years after that.







      France, Austria, and England had snatched the greater part of Saxony from
      the jaws of Prussia, and Alexander had been forced to leave the King of
      Saxony to reign over half of his former subjects, without, as he wished,
      sparing him the pain of such a degradation by taking all from him. Russia
      had to be contented with a large increase of her Polish dominions, getting
      most of the Grand-Duchy of Westphalia. Austria had, probably unwisely,
      withdrawn from her former outlying provinces in Swabia and the
      Netherlands, which had before the Revolution made her necessarily the
      guardian of Europe against France, preferring to take her gains in Italy,
      gains which she has gradually lost in our days; while Prussia, by
      accepting the Rhine provinces, completely stepped into the former post of
      Austria. Indeed, from the way in which Prussia was, after 1815, as it
      were, scattered across Germany, it was evident that her fate must be
      either to be crushed by France, or else, by annexing the states enclosed
      in her dominions, to become the predominating power in Germany. It was
      impossible for her to remain as she was left.
    
France, Austria, and England took most of Saxony away from Prussia, leaving the King of Saxony to rule over half of his former subjects. Alexander had to let him keep that, even though it caused him pain, instead of taking everything from him. Russia was satisfied with a significant expansion of its Polish territories, acquiring most of the Grand-Duchy of Westphalia. Austria had, probably not wisely, pulled back from her previous territories in Swabia and the Netherlands, which had previously made her the protector of Europe against France before the Revolution. She chose to focus on her gains in Italy, which she has gradually lost in recent times, while Prussia filled Austria's former role by accepting the Rhine provinces. In fact, given how Prussia was scattered across Germany after 1815, it was clear that her fate would either be to be crushed by France or to become the dominant power in Germany by annexing the states within her territories. There was no way for her to stay as she was.







      The Allies tightly bound France. They had no desire to have again to march
      on Paris to restore Louis to the subjects who had such unfortunate
      objections to being subjected to that desirable monarch. By the second
      Treaty of Paris, on the 20th of November 1815, France was to be occupied
      by an Allied force, in military positions on the frontier, not to exceed
      150,000 men, to be taken from all the Allied armies, under a commander who
      was eventually the Duke of Wellington. Originally the occupation was not
      to exceed five years, but in February 1817 the army was reduced by 30,000
      men, one-fifth of each contingent; and by the Treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle of
      9th October 1818, France was to-be evacuated by the 30th of November 1818.
    
The Allies tightly constrained France. They had no intention of marching on Paris again to reinstate Louis for the subjects who had such unfortunate objections to being ruled by that desirable monarch. By the second Treaty of Paris, on November 20, 1815, France was to be occupied by an Allied force, positioned along the border, not to exceed 150,000 troops, drawn from all the Allied armies, under a commander who ultimately was the Duke of Wellington. Initially, the occupation was not supposed to last more than five years, but in February 1817, the army was reduced by 30,000 men, one-fifth of each contingent; and by the Treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle on October 9, 1818, France was to be evacuated by November 30, 1818.







      The three monarchs were probably not sorry to get the Congress over on any
      terms. Alexander had had his fill of displaying himself in the salons in
      his favourite part of an Agamemnon generous towards Troy, and he had worn
      out his first popularity. He was stung by finding some of his favourite
      plans boldly opposed by Talleyrand and by Metternich, and, indeed, was
      anxious to meet the last in open combat. Francis had required all the
      firmness of what he called his Bohemian head to resist the threats,
      entreaties, and cajoleries employed to get him to acquiesce in the
      dethronement of the King of Saxony, and the wiping out of the Saxon
      nationality by the very alliance which professed to fight only for the
      rights of nations and of their lawful sovereigns.
    
The three kings were probably relieved to wrap up the Congress, no matter the terms. Alexander had shown off enough in the salons, playing the generous Agamemnon towards Troy, and had exhausted his initial popularity. He was irritated to find some of his favorite plans fiercely opposed by Talleyrand and Metternich, and he was eager to confront the latter directly. Francis had to muster all the determination of what he called his Bohemian mentality to resist the threats, pleas, and flattery used to pressure him into agreeing to the dethronement of the King of Saxony and the erasure of Saxon identity by the very alliance that claimed to fight only for the rights of nations and their rightful rulers.







      All three monarchs had again the satisfaction of entering Paris, but
      without enjoying the full glories of 1814. "Our friends, the enemies" were
      not so popular then in France, and the spoliation of the Louvre was not
      pleasant even to the Royalists. The foreign monarchs soon returned to
      their own drained and impoverished States.
    
All three kings were once again pleased to enter Paris, but they didn't experience the full splendor of 1814. "Our friends, the enemies" weren't as popular in France anymore, and the looting of the Louvre didn't sit well even with the Royalists. The foreign kings quickly went back to their own exhausted and impoverished countries.







      The Emperor Francis had afterwards a quiet reign to his death in 1835,
      having only to assist his Minister in snuffing out the occasional flashes
      of a love of freedom in Germany.
    
The Emperor Francis later had a peaceful reign until his death in 1835, only needing to help his Minister suppress the occasional sparks of a desire for freedom in Germany.







      The King of Prussia returned in a triumph well won by his sturdy subjects,
      and, in the light of his new honours, the Countess Von Voss tells us he
      was really handsome. He was now at leisure to resume the discussions on
      uniform, and the work of fastening and unfastening the numerous buttons of
      his pantaloons, in which he had been so roughly interrupted by Jena. The
      first institution of the Zollverein, or commercial union with several
      States, gradually extended, was a measure which did much for the
      unification of Germany. With his brother sovereigns he revisited Paris at
      the end of the military occupation in 1818, remaining there longer than
      the others, "because," said the Parisians, "he had discovered an actor at
      a small theatre who achieved the feat of making him laugh." He died in
      1840. His Queen—heartbroken, it was said—had died in 1810.
    
The King of Prussia returned from a well-deserved victory, and according to the Countess Von Voss, he looked quite handsome in light of his new honors. He was now able to continue discussions about uniforms and deal with the many buttons on his pantaloons, which he had been so abruptly interrupted from managing at Jena. The establishment of the Zollverein, or commercial union among several states, gradually expanded and greatly contributed to the unification of Germany. He and his fellow monarchs went back to Paris at the end of the military occupation in 1818, and he stayed longer than the others because, as the Parisians said, "he had found an actor at a small theater who could make him laugh." He passed away in 1840. His Queen—reportedly heartbroken—had died in 1810.







      Alexander was still brimming over with the best and most benevolent
      intentions towards every one. The world was to be free, happy, and
      religious; but he had rather vague ideas as to how his plans were to be
      carried out. Thus it is characteristic that when his successor desired to
      have a solemn coronation as King of Poland it was found that Alexander had
      not foreseen the difficulties which were met with in trying to arrange for
      the coronation of a Sovereign of the Greek Church as King of a Roman
      Catholic State. The much-dreaded but very misty Holy Alliance was one of
      the few fruits of Alexander's visions. His mind is described as passing
      through a regular series of stages with each influence under which he
      acted. He ended his life, tired out, disillusioned, "deceived in
      everything, weighed down with regret;" obliged to crush the very hopes of
      his people he had encouraged, dying in 1825 at Taganrog, leaving his new
      Polish Kingdom to be wiped out by-his successors.
    
Alexander was still overflowing with the best and kindest intentions toward everyone. He envisioned a world that would be free, happy, and devout; however, he had rather unclear ideas about how to put his plans into action. It’s telling that when his successor wanted a grand coronation as King of Poland, it turned out that Alexander hadn't anticipated the challenges involved in arranging for the coronation of a Sovereign of the Greek Church as King of a Roman Catholic state. The much-feared but rather vague Holy Alliance was one of the few outcomes of Alexander's dreams. His thought process is described as going through a consistent series of phases influenced by different factors. He ended his life exhausted, disillusioned, "deceived in everything, weighed down with regret;" forced to crush the very hopes of his people that he had once encouraged, dying in 1825 at Taganrog, leaving his new Polish Kingdom to be erased by his successors.







      The minor sovereigns require little mention. They retained any titles they
      had received from Napoleon, while they exulted, at being free from his
      heavy hand and sharp superintendence. Each got a share, small or great, of
      the spoil except the poor King of Denmark, who, being assured by Alexander
      on his departure that he carried away all hearts, answered, "Yes, but not
      any souls."
    
The minor rulers don't need much attention. They kept the titles they had gotten from Napoleon while celebrating their freedom from his harsh control and strict oversight. Each took a piece of the loot, whether big or small, except for the unfortunate King of Denmark, who, when Alexander left and assured him that he took all the goodwill, replied, "Yes, but not any souls."







      The reintroduction of much that was bad in the old system (one country
      even going so far as to re-establish torture), the steady attack on
      liberty and on all liberal ideas, Wurtemberg being practically the only
      State which grumbled at the tightening of the reins so dear to Metternich,—all
      formed a fitting commentary on the proclamations by which the Sovereigns
      had hounded on their people against the man they represented as the one
      obstacle to the freedom and peace of Europe. In gloom and disenchantment
      the nations sat down to lick their wounds: The contempt shown by the
      monarchs for everything but the right of conquest, the manner in which
      they treated the lands won from Napoleon as a gigantic "pool" which was to
      be shared amongst them, so many souls to each; their total failure to
      fulfil their promises to their subjects of granting liberty,—all
      these slowly bore their fruits in after years, and their effects are not
      even yet exhausted. The right of a sovereign to hold his lands was now, by
      the public law of Europe, to be decided by his strength, The rights of the
      people were treated as not existing. Truly, as our most gifted poetess has
      sung—
    
The reintroduction of much that was negative in the old system (one country even going as far as to bring back torture), the ongoing assault on freedom and all liberal ideas, with Wurtemberg being practically the only state that complained about the tightening control so favored by Metternich,—all of this served as an appropriate commentary on the proclamations through which the rulers rallied their people against the man they portrayed as the main obstacle to freedom and peace in Europe. In despair and disappointment, the nations settled down to heal their wounds: The disdain shown by the monarchs for everything except the right of conquest, the way they treated the territories gained from Napoleon as a massive "pool" to be divided among them, each getting a share based on population; their complete failure to keep their promises to their subjects to grant freedom,—all of these gradually led to consequences in later years, and their effects are still felt today. The right of a sovereign to retain his territory was now, according to the public law of Europe, determined by his military power, while the rights of the people were considered nonexistent. Truly, as our most talented poetess has sung—






       "The Kings crept out—the peoples sat at home,
        And finding the long invocated peace
        (A pall embroidered with worn images
        Of rights divine) too scant to cover doom
        Such as they suffered, nursed the corn that grew
        Rankly to bitter bread, on Waterloo."

       "The kings sneaked out—the people stayed home,  
        And finding the long-awaited peace  
        (A cloak decorated with faded images  
        Of divine rights) too thin to shield them from the doom  
        They faced, tended to the crops that grew  
        Wildly into bitter bread, on Waterloo."








 


 




















      CHAPTER XIII
    






 —[This chapter; by the editor of the 1836 edition, is based upon
   the 'Memorial', and O'Meara's and Antommarchi's works.]— 
 —[This chapter; by the editor of the 1836 edition, is based upon
   the 'Memorial', and O'Meara's and Antommarchi's works.]— 



      1815-1821.
    
1815-1821.


   Voyage to St. Helena—Personal traits of the Emperor—Arrival at
   James Town—Napoleon's temporary residence at The Briars—Removal to
   Longwood—The daily routine there-The Campaign of Italy—The arrival
   of Sir Hudson Lowe—Unpleasant relations between the Emperor and the
   new Governor—Visitors at St. Helena—Captain Basil Hall's interview
   with Napoleon—Anecdotes of the Emperor—Departure of Las Cases and
   O'Meara—Arrivals from Europe—Physical habits of the Emperor—Dr.
   Antommarchi—The Emperor's toilet—Creation of a new bishopric—
   The Emperor's energy with the spade—His increasing illness—
   Last days of Napoleon—His Death—Lying in state—Military funeral—
   Marchand's account of the Emperor's last moments—Napoleon's last
   bequests—The Watch of Rivoli.

   Voyage to St. Helena—Personal traits of the Emperor—Arrival at
   Jamestown—Napoleon's temporary stay at The Briars—Move to
   Longwood—The daily routine there—The Campaign of Italy—The arrival
   of Sir Hudson Lowe—Tense relations between the Emperor and the
   new Governor—Visitors at St. Helena—Captain Basil Hall's meeting
   with Napoleon—Anecdotes about the Emperor—Departure of Las Cases and
   O'Meara—Arrivals from Europe—Physical habits of the Emperor—Dr.
   Antommarchi—The Emperor's grooming—Creation of a new bishopric—
   The Emperor's energy with the spade—His worsening illness—
   Last days of Napoleon—His Death—Lying in state—Military funeral—
   Marchand's account of the Emperor's last moments—Napoleon's last
   wishes—The Watch of Rivoli.







      The closing scenes in the life of the great Emperor only now remain to be
      briefly touched upon. In a previous chapter we have narrated the surrender
      of Napoleon, his voyage to England, and his transference from the
      Bellerophon to the Northumberland. The latter vessel was in great
      confusion from the short notice at which she had sailed, and for the two
      first days the crew was employed in restoring order. The space abaft the
      mizenmast contained a dining-room about ten feet broad, and extending the
      whole width of the ship, a saloon, and two cabins. The Emperor occupied
      the cabin on the left; in which his camp-bedstead had been put up; that on
      the right was appropriated to the Admiral. It was peremptorily enjoined
      that the saloon should be in common. The form of the dining-table
      resembled that of the dining-room. Napoleon sat with his back to the
      saloon; on his left sat Madame Bertrand, and on his right the Admiral,
      who, with Madame de Montholon, filled up one side of the table. Next that
      lady, but at the end of the table, was Captain Ross, who commanded the
      ship, and at the opposite end M. de Montholon; Madame Bertrand, and the
      Admiral's secretary. The side of the table facing the Emperor was occupied
      by the Grand-Marshal, the Colonel of the field Regiment, Las Cases, and
      Gourgaud. The Admiral invited one or two of the officers to dinner every
      day, and the band of the 53d, newly-formed, played during dinner-time.
    
The final moments in the life of the great Emperor are now to be briefly discussed. In a previous chapter, we covered Napoleon's surrender, his journey to England, and his transfer from the Bellerophon to the Northumberland. The latter ship was in quite a mess due to the short notice for its departure, and for the first two days, the crew worked on getting things back in order. There was a dining area behind the mizenmast that was about ten feet wide and stretched the entire width of the ship, along with a saloon and two cabins. The Emperor used the cabin on the left, where his camp bed was set up; the cabin on the right was assigned to the Admiral. It was strictly required that the saloon be shared. The dining table was similar in shape to the dining room. Napoleon sat with his back facing the saloon; to his left was Madame Bertrand, and to his right was the Admiral, who, along with Madame de Montholon, occupied one side of the table. Next to her, but at the end of the table, was Captain Ross, the ship's commander, and at the opposite end was M. de Montholon, along with Madame Bertrand and the Admiral's secretary. The side of the table facing the Emperor was taken up by the Grand-Marshal, the Colonel of the field Regiment, Las Cases, and Gourgaud. The Admiral invited one or two officers to dinner daily, and the newly-formed band of the 53rd played during mealtime.







      On the 10th of August the Northumberland cleared the Channel, and lost
      sight of land. The course of the ship was shaped to cross the Bay of
      Biscay and double Cape Finisterre. The wind was fair, though light, and
      the heat excessive. Napoleon breakfasted in his own cabin at irregular
      hours. He sent for one of his attendants every morning to know the
      distance run, the state of the wind, and other particulars connected with
      their progress. He read a great deal, dressed towards four o'clock, and
      then came into the public saloon; here he played at chess with one of the
      party; at five o'clock the Admiral announced that dinner was on the table.
      It is well known that Napoleon was scarcely ever more than fifteen minutes
      at dinner; here the two courses alone took up nearly an hour and a half.
      This was a serious annoyance to him, though his features and manner always
      evinced perfect equanimity. Neither the new system of cookery nor the
      quality of the dishes ever met with his censure. He was waited on by two
      valets, who stood behind his chair. At first the Admiral was in the habit
      of offering several dishes to the Emperor, but the acknowledgment of the
      latter was expressed so coldly that the practice was given up. The Admiral
      thenceforth only pointed out to the servants what was preferable. Napoleon
      was generally silent, as if unacquainted with the language, though it was
      French. If he spoke, it was to ask some technical or scientific question,
      or to address a few words to those whom the Admiral occasionally asked to
      dinner.
    
On August 10th, the Northumberland left the Channel and lost sight of land. The ship's course was set to cross the Bay of Biscay and round Cape Finisterre. The wind was favorable, though light, and the heat was intense. Napoleon had breakfast in his cabin at odd times. Every morning, he called for one of his attendants to get updates on the distance traveled, the wind conditions, and other details about their journey. He read a lot, got dressed around four o’clock, and then joined the public lounge; there, he played chess with someone in the group. At five o’clock, the Admiral announced that dinner was ready. It’s well known that Napoleon rarely spent more than fifteen minutes at dinner, but here the two courses took nearly an hour and a half. This irritated him, although his expression and demeanor always showed complete calm. Neither the new cooking style nor the quality of the dishes ever drew his criticism. He was attended by two valets, who stood behind his chair. At first, the Admiral would offer several dishes to the Emperor, but Napoleon's acknowledgment was so lukewarm that the practice was dropped. From then on, the Admiral only pointed out what the servants should serve. Napoleon usually remained silent, as if he didn’t understand the language, even though it was French. When he did speak, it was to ask a technical or scientific question or to exchange a few words with guests the Admiral occasionally invited to dinner.







      The Emperor rose immediately after coffee had been handed round, and went
      on deck, followed by the Grand-Marshal and Las Cases. This disconcerted
      Admiral Cockburn, who expressed his surprise to his officers; but Madame
      Bertrand, whose maternal language was English, replied with spirit, "Do
      not forget, sir, that your guest is a man who has governed a large portion
      of the world, and that kings once contended for the honour of being
      admitted to his table."—"Very true," rejoined the Admiral; and from
      that time he did his utmost to comply with Napoleon's habits. He shortened
      the time of sitting at table, ordering coffee for Napoleon and those who
      accompanied him even before the rest of the company had finished their
      dinner. The Emperor remained walking on deck till dark. On returning to
      the after-cabin he sat down to play vingt et un with some of his suite,
      and generally retired in about half an hour. On the morning of the 15th of
      August all his suite asked permission to be admitted to his presence. He
      was not aware of the cause of this visit; it was his birthday, which
      seemed to have altogether escaped his recollection.
    
The Emperor got up right after coffee was served and went on deck, followed by the Grand-Marshal and Las Cases. This surprised Admiral Cockburn, who shared his astonishment with his officers; but Madame Bertrand, whose first language was English, replied confidently, "Don't forget, sir, that your guest is someone who has ruled over a large part of the world, and kings once fought for the honor of being invited to his table."—"Very true," the Admiral agreed; and from then on, he did his best to accommodate Napoleon's habits. He cut short the time they spent at the table, bringing coffee for Napoleon and his companions even before the rest of the guests had finished their dinner. The Emperor stayed on deck until it got dark. When he returned to the after-cabin, he sat down to play vingt et un with some members of his entourage, usually wrapping up after about half an hour. On the morning of August 15th, everyone in his entourage asked for permission to see him. He didn't realize the reason for their visit; it was his birthday, which he seemed to have completely forgotten.







      On the following day they doubled Cape Finisterre, and up to the 21st,
      passing off the Straits of Gibraltar, continued their course along the
      coast of Africa towards Madeira. Napoleon commonly remained in his cabin
      the whole morning, and from the extreme heat he wore a very slight dress.
      He could not sleep well, and frequently rose in the night. Reading was his
      chief occupation. He often sent for Count Las Cases to translate whatever
      related to St. Helena or the countries by which they were sailing.
      Napoleon used to start a subject of conversation; or revive that of some
      preceding day, and when he had taken eight or nine turns the whole length
      of the deck he would seat himself on the second gun from the gangway on
      the larboard side. The midshipmen soon observed this habitual
      predilection, so that the cannon was thenceforth called the Emperor's gun.
      It was here that Napoleon often conversed for hours together.
    
The next day, they rounded Cape Finisterre, and until the 21st, after passing through the Straits of Gibraltar, they continued their journey along the African coast towards Madeira. Napoleon usually stayed in his cabin all morning, and due to the intense heat, he wore very light clothing. He had trouble sleeping and often got up during the night. Reading was his main activity. He frequently called for Count Las Cases to translate anything related to St. Helena or the countries they were passing. Napoleon would start a conversation topic or revisit one from a previous day, and after pacing back and forth eight or nine times along the deck, he would sit down on the second gun from the gangway on the left side. The midshipmen soon noticed this habit, so the cannon was thereafter referred to as the Emperor's gun. It was here that Napoleon often talked for hours on end.







      On the 22d of August they came within sight of Madeira, and at night
      arrived off the port. They stopped for a day or two to take in provisions.
      Napoleon was indisposed. A sudden gale arose and the air was filled with
      small particles of sand and the suffocating exhalations from the deserts
      of Africa. On the evening of the 24th they got under weigh again, and
      progressed smoothly and rapidly. The Emperor added to his amusements a
      game at piquet. He was but an indifferent chess-player, and there was no
      very good one on board. He asked, jestingly, "How it was that he
      frequently beat those who beat better players than himself?" Vingt et un
      was given up, as they played too high at it; and Napoleon had a great
      aversion to gaming. One night a negro threw himself overboard to avoid a
      flogging, which occasioned a great noise and bustle. A young midshipman
      meeting Las Cases descending into the cabin, and thinking he was going to
      inform Napoleon, caught hold of his coat and in a tone of great concern
      exclaimed, "Ah sir, do not alarm the Emperor! Tell him the noise is owing
      to an accident!" In general the midshipmen behaved with marked respect and
      attention to Bonaparte, and often by signs or words directed the sailors
      to avoid incommoding him: He sometimes noticed this conduct, and remarked
      that youthful hearts were always prone to generous instincts.
    
On August 22, they finally saw Madeira, and by night, they arrived near the port. They stayed for a day or two to stock up on supplies. Napoleon wasn't feeling well. A sudden storm hit, and the air was filled with tiny particles of sand and the suffocating fumes from the deserts of Africa. On the evening of the 24th, they set off again, moving smoothly and quickly. The Emperor started playing piquet for fun. He wasn't a great chess player, and there wasn't anyone particularly skilled on board. He jokingly asked, "How is it that I often beat those who can beat better players than I?" They gave up playing vingt et un because they were betting too high, and Napoleon really disliked gambling. One night, a crew member jumped overboard to avoid being flogged, creating a lot of noise and chaos. A young midshipman saw Las Cases going down to the cabin and, thinking he was going to tell Napoleon, grabbed his coat and urgently said, "Ah sir, don’t alarm the Emperor! Tell him the noise is just an accident!" Overall, the midshipmen showed a lot of respect and attention to Bonaparte and often directed the sailors to ensure he wasn't disturbed, either with signs or words. He sometimes noticed their behavior and commented that young hearts were always inclined to be generous.







      On the 1st of September they found themselves in the latitude of the Cape
      de Verd Islands. Everything now promised a prosperous passage, but the
      time hung heavily. Las Cases had undertaken to teach his son English, and
      the Emperor also expressed a wish to learn. He, however, soon grew tired
      and laid it aside, nor was it resumed until long afterwards. His manners
      and habits were always the same; he invariably appeared contented,
      patient, and good-humoured. The Admiral gradually laid aside his reserve,
      and took an interest in his great captive. He pointed out the danger
      incurred by coming on deck after dinner, owing to the damp of the evening:
      the Emperor, would then sometimes take his arm and prolong the
      conversation, talking sometimes on naval affairs, on the French resources
      in the south, and on the improvements he had contemplated in the ports and
      harbours of the Mediterranean, to all which the Admiral listened with deep
      attention.
    
On September 1st, they found themselves at the latitude of the Cape Verde Islands. Everything promised a smooth journey ahead, but the time passed slowly. Las Cases had taken on the task of teaching his son English, and the Emperor also expressed a desire to learn. However, he soon lost interest and stopped, not picking it back up until much later. His demeanor and habits remained consistent; he always seemed content, patient, and in good spirits. The Admiral gradually dropped his reserve and became interested in his significant captive. He pointed out the risks of coming on deck after dinner due to the evening's dampness. The Emperor would sometimes take his arm and extend the conversation, discussing naval matters, France's resources in the south, and the improvements he had envisioned for the Mediterranean ports and harbors, to which the Admiral listened intently.







      Meanwhile Napoleon observed that Las Cases was busily employed, and
      obtained a sight of his journal, with which he was not displeased. He,
      however, noticed that some of the military details and anecdotes gave but
      a meagre idea of the subject of war: This first led to the proposal of his
      writing his own Memoirs. At length the Emperor came to a determination,
      and on Saturday, the 9th of September he called his secretary into his
      cabin and dictated to him some particulars of the siege of Toulon. On
      approaching the line they fell in with the trade-winds, that blow here
      constantly from the east. On the 16th there was a considerable fall of
      rain, to the great joy of the sailors, who were in want of water. The rain
      began to fall heavily just as the Emperor had got upon deck to take his
      afternoon walk. But this did not disappoint him of his usual exercise; he
      merely called for his famous gray greatcoat, which the crew regarded with
      much interest.
    
Meanwhile, Napoleon noticed that Las Cases was busy and got a look at his journal, which he didn't mind. However, he observed that some of the military details and stories didn’t convey much about the subject of war. This prompted him to suggest that he write his own Memoirs. Eventually, the Emperor made a decision, and on Saturday, September 9th, he called his secretary into his cabin and dictated some details about the siege of Toulon. As they approached the coastline, they encountered the trade winds, which consistently blow from the east here. On the 16th, there was a heavy rain, which delighted the sailors who were in need of water. The rain began pouring just as the Emperor stepped onto the deck for his afternoon walk. But this didn’t keep him from his usual exercise; he simply requested his famous gray greatcoat, which the crew looked at with great interest.







      On the 23d of September they passed the line. This was a day of great
      merriment and disorder among the crew: it was the ceremony which the
      English sailors call the "christening." No one is spared; and the officers
      are generally more roughly handled than any one else. The Admiral, who had
      previously amused himself by giving an alarming description of this
      ceremony, now very courteously exempted his guests from the inconvenience
      and ridicule attending it. Napoleon was scrupulously respected through the
      whole of this Saturnalian festivity. On being informed of the decorum
      which had been observed with regard to him he ordered a hundred Napoleons
      to be presented to the grotesque Neptune and his crew; which the Admiral
      opposed, perhaps from motives of prudence as well as politeness.
    
On September 23rd, they crossed the equator. It was a day filled with joy and chaos among the crew; this was the ceremony that English sailors refer to as the "christening." No one is safe, and the officers usually get rougher treatment than anyone else. The Admiral, who had previously entertained himself by giving a terrifying account of this ceremony, graciously excused his guests from the trouble and embarrassment that came with it. Napoleon was treated with great respect throughout this wild celebration. When he heard about the decorum that had been maintained regarding him, he ordered a hundred gold Napoleons to be given to the comical Neptune and his crew; however, the Admiral opposed this, likely out of both caution and courtesy.







      Owing to the haste with which they had left England the painting of the
      ship had been only lately finished, and this circumstance confined
      Napoleon, whose sense of smell was very acute, to his room for two days.
      They were now, in the beginning of October, driven into the Gulf of
      Guinea, where they met a French vessel bound for the Isle of Bourbon. They
      spoke with the captain, who expressed his surprise and regret when he
      learnt that Napoleon was on board. The wind was unfavourable, and the ship
      made little progress. The sailors grumbled at the Admiral, who had gone
      out of the usual course. At length they approached the termination of
      their voyage. On the 14th of October the Admiral had informed them that he
      expected to come within sight of St. Helena that day. They had scarcely
      risen from table when their ears were saluted with the cry of "land!" This
      was within a quarter of an hour of the time that had been fixed on. The
      Emperor went on the forecastle to see the island; but it was still hardly
      distinguishable. At daybreak next morning they had a tolerably clear view
      of it.
    
Because they had rushed out of England, the painting of the ship was recently completed, and this kept Napoleon, who had a very keen sense of smell, stuck in his room for two days. Now, in early October, they found themselves in the Gulf of Guinea, where they encountered a French ship headed for the Isle of Bourbon. They chatted with the captain, who was surprised and disappointed to learn that Napoleon was on board. The wind wasn't favorable, and the ship was making slow progress. The sailors complained about the Admiral, who had strayed from the usual course. Eventually, they were nearing the end of their journey. On October 14th, the Admiral informed them that he expected to see St. Helena that day. They had barely finished their meal when they heard the shout of "land!" This was just about a quarter of an hour after the scheduled time. The Emperor went to the front of the ship to catch a glimpse of the island, but it was still hard to make out. By dawn the next morning, they had a fairly clear view of it.







      At length, about seventy days after his departure from England, and a
      hundred and ten after quitting Paris, Napoleon reached St. Helena. In the
      harbour were several vessels of the squadron which had separated from
      them, and which they thought they had left behind. Napoleon, contrary to
      custom, dressed early and went upon deck: he went forward to the gangway
      to view the island. He beheld a kind of village surrounded by numerous
      barren hills towering to the clouds. Every platform, every aperture, the
      brow of every hill was planted with cannon. The Emperor viewed the
      prospect through his glass. His countenance underwent no change. He soon
      left the deck; and sending for Las Cases, proceeded to his day's work. The
      Admiral, who had gone ashore very early, returned about six much fatigued.
      He had been walking over various parts of the island, and at length
      thought he had found a habitation that would suit his captives. The place
      stood in need of repairs, which might occupy two months. His orders were
      not to let the French quit the vessel till a house should be prepared to
      receive them. He, however, undertook, on his own responsibility, to set
      them on shore the next day.
    
Finally, about seventy days after leaving England and a hundred and ten after leaving Paris, Napoleon arrived at St. Helena. In the harbor were several ships from the squadron that had separated from them, which they thought they had left behind. Unlike usual, Napoleon got dressed early and went on deck: he walked to the gangway to get a view of the island. He saw a kind of village surrounded by many barren hills reaching up to the clouds. Every platform, every opening, and the top of every hill was equipped with cannons. The Emperor took in the scene through his glass. His expression didn’t change. He soon left the deck and called for Las Cases to get on with his day's work. The Admiral, who had gone ashore very early, returned around six, looking quite worn out. He had been walking around different parts of the island and eventually thought he had found a place that would be suitable for his captives. The place needed repairs, which would take about two months. He was instructed not to let the French leave the ship until a house was ready for them. However, he decided on his own to put them ashore the next day.







      On the 16th, after dinner, Napoleon, accompanied by the Admiral and the
      Grand-Marshal, Bertrand, got into a boat to go ashore. As he passed, the
      officers assembled on the quarter-deck, and the greater part of the crew
      on the gangways. The Emperor, before he stepped into the boat, sent for
      the captain of the vessel, and took leave of him, desiring him at the same
      time to convey his thanks to the officers and crew. These words appeared
      to produce the liveliest sensation in all by whom they were understood, or
      to whom they were interpreted. The remainder of his suite landed about
      eight. They found the Emperor in the apartments which had been assigned to
      him, a few minutes after he went upstairs to his chamber. He was lodged in
      a sort of inn in James Town, which consists only, of one short street, or
      row of houses built in a narrow valley between two rocky hills.
    
On the 16th, after dinner, Napoleon, along with the Admiral and Grand Marshal Bertrand, boarded a boat to go ashore. As he passed by, the officers gathered on the quarter-deck, and most of the crew lined the gangways. Before stepping into the boat, the Emperor called for the ship's captain and said his goodbyes, asking him to express his gratitude to the officers and crew. His words seemed to deeply affect everyone who understood them or had them translated. The rest of his entourage arrived at around eight. They found the Emperor in the rooms assigned to him, just moments after he had gone upstairs to his chamber. He was staying at a sort of inn in James Town, which consists of just one short street, or row of houses, situated in a narrow valley between two rocky hills.







      The next day the Emperor, the Grand-Marshal, and the Admiral, riding out
      to visit Longwood, which had been chosen for the Emperor's residence, on
      their return saw a small villa, with a pavilion attached to it, about two
      miles from the town, the residence of Mr. Balcombe; a merchant of the
      island. This spot pleased Napoleon, and the Admiral was of opinion that it
      would be better for him to remain here than to return to the town, where
      the sentinels at his door, with the crowds collected round it, in a manner
      confined him to his chamber. The pavilion was a sort of summer-house on a
      pyramidal eminence, about thirty or forty paces from the house, where the
      family were accustomed to resort in fine weather: this was hired for the
      temporary abode of the Emperor, and he took possession of it immediately.
      There was a carriage-road from the town, and the valley was in this part
      less rugged in its aspect. Las Cases was soon sent for. As he ascended the
      winding path leading to the pavilion he saw Napoleon standing at the
      threshold of the door. His body was slightly bent, and his hands behind
      his back: he wore his usual plain and simple uniform and the well-known
      hat. The Emperor was alone. He took a fancy to walk a little; but there
      was no level ground on any side of the pavilion, which was surrounded by
      huge pieces of rock. Taking the arm of his companion, however, he began to
      converse in a cheerful strain. When Napoleon was about to retire to rest
      the servants found that one of the windows was open close to the bed: they
      barricaded it as well as they could, so as to exclude the air, to the
      effects of which the Emperor was very susceptible. Las Cases ascended to
      an upper room. The valets de chambres lay stretched in their cloaks across
      the threshold of the door. Such was the first night Napoleon passed at the
      Briars.
    
The next day, the Emperor, the Grand Marshal, and the Admiral rode out to visit Longwood, which had been chosen as the Emperor's residence. On their way back, they spotted a small villa with a pavilion about two miles from town, where Mr. Balcombe, a local merchant, lived. Napoleon liked the location, and the Admiral suggested it would be better for him to stay there than return to town, where the guards at his door and the crowds around it limited his movement. The pavilion was like a summer house on a slight hill, about thirty or forty paces from the main house, where the family liked to hang out in nice weather. It was rented for the Emperor’s temporary stay, and he moved in right away. There was a carriage road from the town, and the valley in this area was less rugged. Las Cases was soon called. As he climbed the winding path to the pavilion, he saw Napoleon standing at the door, slightly bent with his hands behind his back, wearing his usual plain uniform and familiar hat. The Emperor was alone. He wanted to walk a little, but there was no flat ground around the pavilion, which was surrounded by large rocks. Nevertheless, he took his companion's arm and started chatting cheerfully. When Napoleon was ready to go to bed, the servants discovered one of the windows near the bed was open. They did their best to barricade it to keep the air out, as the Emperor was very sensitive to it. Las Cases went up to an upper room. The valets were sprawled across the threshold of the door in their cloaks. That was how Napoleon passed his first night at the Briars.







      An English officer was lodged with them in the house as their guard, and
      two non-commissioned officers were stationed near the house to watch their
      movements. Napoleon the next day proceeded with his dictation, which
      occupied him for several hours, and then took a walk in the garden, where
      he was met by the two Misses Balcombe, lively girls about fourteen years
      of age, who presented him with flowers, and overwhelmed him with whimsical
      questions. Napoleon was amused by their familiarity, to which he had been
      little accustomed. "We have been to a masked ball," said he, when the
      young ladies had taken their leave.
    
An English officer was staying with them in the house as their guard, and two non-commissioned officers were positioned nearby to keep an eye on them. The next day, Napoleon went on with his dictation, which took him several hours, and then he took a walk in the garden, where he met the two Misses Balcombe, lively girls about fourteen years old, who offered him flowers and bombarded him with quirky questions. Napoleon found their friendliness amusing, as he wasn’t used to it. "We went to a masked ball,” he said after the young ladies had left.







      The next day a chicken was brought for breakfast, which the Emperor
      undertook to carve himself, and was surprised at his succeeding so well,
      it being a long time since he had done so much. The coffee he considered
      so bad that on tasting it he thought himself poisoned, and sent it away.
    
The next day, a chicken was brought for breakfast, which the Emperor decided to carve himself. He was impressed with how well he did, since it had been a long time since he had done anything like that. He found the coffee so terrible that after tasting it, he thought he must be poisoned and sent it away.







      The mornings were passed in business; in the evening Napoleon sometimes
      strolled to the neighbouring villa, where the young ladies made him play
      at whist. The Campaign of Italy was nearly finished, and Las Cases
      proposed that the other followers of Napoleon who were lodged in the town
      should come up every morning to assist in transcribing The Campaign of
      Egypt, the History of the Consulate, etc. This suggestion pleased the
      ex-Emperor, so that from that time one or two of his suite came regularly
      every day to write to his dictation, and stayed to dinner. A tent, sent by
      the Colonel of the 53d Regiment, was spread out so as to form a
      prolongation of the pavillion. Their cook took up his abode at the Briars.
      The table linen was taken from the trunks, the plate was set forth, and
      the first dinner after these new arrangements was a sort of fete.
    
The mornings were spent on work; in the evenings, Napoleon sometimes took a walk to the nearby villa, where the young ladies made him play whist. The Campaign of Italy was almost over, and Las Cases suggested that the other followers of Napoleon staying in town should come every morning to help transcribe The Campaign of Egypt, the History of the Consulate, and so on. This idea pleased the ex-Emperor, so from then on, one or two members of his entourage came regularly every day to write as he dictated and stayed for dinner. A tent, sent by the Colonel of the 53rd Regiment, was set up to extend the pavilion. Their cook moved to the Briars. The table linen was taken from the trunks, the silverware was laid out, and the first dinner after these new arrangements was like a celebration.







      One day at dinner Napoleon, casting his eye on one of the dishes of his
      own campaign-service, on which the-arms of the King had been engraved,
      "How they have spoiled that!" he exclaimed; and he could not refrain from
      observing that the King was in great haste to take possession of the
      Imperial plate, which certainly did not belong to him. Amongst the baggage
      was also a cabinet in which were a number of medallions, given him by the
      Pope and other potentates, some letters of Louis XVIII. which he had left
      behind him on his writing-table in the suddenness of his flight from the
      Tuileries on the 20th of March, and a number of other letters found in the
      portfolio of M. De Blacas intended to calumniate Napoleon.
    
One day at dinner, Napoleon looked at one of the dishes from his own campaign service, which had the King's arms engraved on it, and exclaimed, "They totally messed that up!" He couldn't help but point out how eager the King was to claim the Imperial plate, which definitely didn’t belong to him. Among the luggage was also a cabinet containing several medallions given to him by the Pope and other powerful leaders, some letters from Louis XVIII that he had left behind on his writing table during his sudden escape from the Tuileries on March 20th, and various other letters found in M. De Blacas's portfolio that were meant to tarnish Napoleon's reputation.







      The Emperor never dressed until about four o'clock, he then walked in the
      garden, which was particularly agreeable to him on account of its solitude—the
      English soldiers having been removed at Mr. Balcombe's request. A little
      arbour was covered with canvas; and a chair and table placed in it, and
      here Napoleon dictated a great part of his Memoirs. In the evening, when
      he did not go out, he generally contrived to prolong the conversation till
      eleven or twelve o'clock.
    
The Emperor didn't get dressed until around four o'clock. Then he would walk in the garden, which he enjoyed especially for its peace and quiet since the English soldiers had been removed at Mr. Balcombe's request. There was a small gazebo covered with canvas, with a chair and table set up inside, where Napoleon dictated much of his Memoirs. In the evening, when he didn't go out, he usually managed to keep the conversation going until eleven or twelve o'clock.







      Thus time passed with little variety or interruption. The weather in the
      winter became delightful. One day, his usual task being done; Napoleon
      strolled out towards the town, until he came within sight of the road and
      shipping. On his return he met Mrs. Balcombe and a Mrs. Stuart, who was on
      her way back from Bombay to England. The Emperor conversed with her on the
      manners and customs of India, and on the inconveniences of a long voyage
      at sea, particularly to ladies. He alluded to Scotland, Mrs. Stuart's
      native country, expatiated on the genius of Ossian, and congratulated his
      fair interlocutor on the preservation of her clear northern complexion.
      While the parties were thus engaged some heavily burdened slaves passed
      near to them. Mrs. Balcombe motioned them to make a detour; but Napoleon
      interposed, exclaiming, "Respect the burden, madam!" As he said this the
      Scotch lady, who had been very eagerly scanning the features of Napoleon,
      whispered to her friend, "Heavens! what a character, and what an
      expression of countenance! How different to the idea I had formed of him!"
    
So time went by with little change or interruption. The winter weather became pleasant. One day, after finishing his usual work, Napoleon took a walk towards the town until he could see the road and the ships. On his way back, he encountered Mrs. Balcombe and a Mrs. Stuart, who was returning from Bombay to England. The Emperor chatted with her about the customs and habits of India and the struggles of a long sea voyage, especially for women. He mentioned Scotland, Mrs. Stuart's homeland, praised the genius of Ossian, and complimented her on keeping her fair northern complexion. While they were engaged in this conversation, some heavily loaded slaves passed by them. Mrs. Balcombe signaled for them to take a different path, but Napoleon intervened, saying, "Respect the burden, madam!" As he spoke, the Scottish lady, who had been intently studying Napoleon's features, whispered to her friend, "Goodness! What a character, and what an expression! How different from the idea I had of him!"







      Napoleon shortly after repeated the same walk, and went into the house of
      Major Hudson. This visit occasioned considerable alarm to the constituted
      authorities.
    
Napoleon soon took the same walk again and went into Major Hudson's house. This visit caused significant concern for the authorities in charge.







      The Governor gave a ball, to which the French were invited; and Las Cases
      about the same time rode over to Longwood to see what advance had been
      made in the preparations for their reception. His report on his return was
      not very favourable. They had now been six weeks at the Briars, during
      which Napoleon had been nearly as much confined as if on board the vessel.
      His health began to be impaired by it. Las Cases gave it as his opinion
      that the Emperor did not possess that constitution of iron which was
      usually ascribed to him; and that it was the strength of his mind, not of
      his body, that carried him through the labours of the field and of the
      cabinet. In speaking on this subject Napoleon himself observed that nature
      had endowed him with two peculiarities: one was the power of sleeping at
      any hour or in any place; the other, his being incapable of committing any
      excess either in eating or drinking: "If," said he, "I go the least beyond
      my mark my stomach instantly revolts." He was subject to nausea from very
      slight causes, and to colds from any change of air.
    
The Governor hosted a ball, to which the French were invited; around the same time, Las Cases rode over to Longwood to check on the preparations for their arrival. His report upon returning wasn't very positive. They had been at the Briars for six weeks, during which Napoleon had been almost as restricted as if he were still on board the ship. His health began to suffer because of it. Las Cases believed that the Emperor didn't have the "iron constitution" that people often claimed he did; it was actually the strength of his mind, not his body, that helped him endure the demands of both the battlefield and the government. Discussing this topic, Napoleon himself noted that nature had given him two unique traits: one was the ability to sleep at any time or place, and the other was that he couldn't indulge in excesses with food or drink: "If," he said, "I go the slightest bit beyond my limit, my stomach immediately reacts." He was prone to nausea from very minor triggers and colds from any change in the air.







      The prisoners removed to Longwood on the 10th of December 1815. Napoleon
      invited Mr. Balcombe to breakfast with him that morning, and conversed
      with him in a very cheerful manner. About two Admiral Cockburn was
      announced; he entered with an air of embarrassment. In consequence of the
      restraints imposed upon him at the Briars, and the manner in which those
      of his suite residing in the town had been treated, Bonaparte had
      discontinued receiving the visits of the Admiral; yet on the present
      occasion he behaved towards him as though nothing had happened. At length
      they left the Briars and set out for Longwood. Napoleon rode the horse, a
      small, sprightly, and tolerably handsome animal, which had been brought
      for him from the Cape. He wore his uniform of the Chasseurs of the Guard,
      and his graceful manner and handsome countenance were particularly
      remarked. The Admiral was very attentive to him. At the entrance of
      Longwood they found a guard under arms who rendered the prescribed honours
      to their illustrious captive. His horse, unaccustomed to parades, and
      frightened by the roll of the drum, refused to pass the gate till spurred
      on by Napoleon, while a significant look passed among the escort. The
      Admiral took great pains to point out the minutest details at Longwood. He
      had himself superintended all the arrangements, among which was a
      bath-room. Bonaparte was satisfied with everything, and the Admiral seemed
      highly pleased. He had anticipated petulance and disdain, but Napoleon
      manifested perfect good-humour.
    
The prisoners were moved to Longwood on December 10, 1815. Napoleon invited Mr. Balcombe to have breakfast with him that morning and spoke with him in a very cheerful way. Around two o'clock, Admiral Cockburn arrived; he came in looking uncomfortable. Because of the restrictions placed on him at the Briars and how his staff in town had been treated, Bonaparte had stopped accepting the Admiral's visits, but this time he treated him as if nothing had happened. Eventually, they left the Briars and headed for Longwood. Napoleon rode a small, lively, and quite good-looking horse that had been brought for him from the Cape. He wore his Chasseurs of the Guard uniform, and his graceful demeanor and attractive face stood out. The Admiral was very attentive to him. At the entrance of Longwood, they found a guard at attention who paid the expected honors to their illustrious captive. His horse, unaccustomed to parades and spooked by the drum, refused to move past the gate until Napoleon urged it on, while a meaningful look was exchanged among the escort. The Admiral took great care to highlight even the smallest details at Longwood. He had personally overseen all the arrangements, including a bathroom. Bonaparte was pleased with everything, and the Admiral seemed very happy. He had expected irritation and disdain, but Napoleon showed perfect good humor.







      The entrance to the house was through a room which had been just built to
      answer the double purpose of an ante-chamber and a dining-room. This
      apartment led to the drawing-room; beyond this was a third room running in
      a cross direction and very dark. This was intended to be the depository of
      the Emperor's maps and books, but it was afterwards converted into the
      dining-room. The Emperor's chamber opened into this apartment on the right
      hand side, and was divided into two equal parts, forming a cabinet and
      sleeping-room; a little external gallery served for a bathing-room:
      Opposite the Emperor's chamber, at the other extremity of the building,
      were the apartments of Madame Montholon, her husband, and her son,
      afterward used as the Emperors library. Detached from this part of the
      house was a little square room on the ground floor, contiguous to the
      kitchen, which was assigned to Las Cases. The windows and beds had no
      curtains. The furniture was mean and scanty. Bertrand and his family
      resided at a distance of two miles, at a place called Rut's Gate. General
      Gourgaud slept under a tent, as well as Mr. O'Meara, and the officer
      commanding the guard. The house was surrounded by a garden. In front, and
      separated by a tolerably deep ravine, was encamped the 53d Regiment,
      different parties of which were stationed on the neighbouring heights.
    
The entrance to the house was through a newly built room that served as both an ante-chamber and a dining room. This space led into the drawing room; beyond that was a third, very dark room running perpendicular, which was meant to hold the Emperor's maps and books but was later turned into the dining room. The Emperor's chamber opened into this area on the right side and was split into two equal parts, creating a small office and a sleeping area; a small outdoor gallery was used as a bathing room. Across from the Emperor's chamber, at the opposite end of the building, were the quarters for Madame Montholon, her husband, and her son, which later became the Emperor's library. Detached from this section of the house was a small square room on the ground floor next to the kitchen, designated for Las Cases. The windows and beds had no curtains, and the furniture was sparse and basic. Bertrand and his family lived two miles away at a place called Rut's Gate. General Gourgaud slept in a tent, as did Mr. O'Meara and the officer in charge of the guard. The house was surrounded by a garden. In front of it, separated by a fairly deep ravine, was the encampment of the 53rd Regiment, with different groups stationed on the nearby hills.







      The domestic establishment of the Emperor consisted of eleven persons. To
      the Grand-Marshal was confided the general superintendence; to M. de
      Montholon the domestic details; Las Cases was to take care of the
      furniture and property, and General Gourgaud to have the management of the
      stables. These arrangements, however, produced discontent among Napoleon's
      attendants. Las Cases admits that they were no longer the members of one
      family, each using his best efforts to promote the advantage of all. They
      were far from practising that which necessity dictated. He says also, "The
      Admiral has more than once, in the midst of our disputes with him, hastily
      exclaimed that the Emperor was decidedly the most good-natured, just, and
      reasonable of the whole set."
    
The Emperor's household had eleven people. The Grand-Marshal was in charge of overall management; M. de Montholon handled the day-to-day details; Las Cases took care of the furniture and property, while General Gourgaud managed the stables. However, these arrangements caused dissatisfaction among Napoleon's staff. Las Cases acknowledged that they were no longer acting like one family, all working together for everyone's benefit. They were far from following what was necessary. He also mentioned, "The Admiral has frequently, during our arguments with him, quickly said that the Emperor was definitely the most good-natured, fair, and reasonable of the entire group."







      On his first arrival he went to visit the barracks occupied by some
      Chinese living on the island, and a place called Longwood Farm. He
      complained to Las Cases that they had been idle of late; but by degrees
      their hours and the employment of them became fixed and regular. The
      Campaign of Italy being now finished, Napoleon corrected it, and dictated
      on other subjects. This was their morning's work. They dined between eight
      and nine, Madame Montholon being seated on Napoleon's right; Las Cases on
      his left, and Gourgaud, Montholon, and Las Cases' son sitting opposite.
      The smell of the paint not being yet gone off, they remained not more than
      ten minutes at table, and the dessert was prepared in the adjoining
      apartment, where coffee was served up and conversation commenced. Scenes
      were read from Molière, Racine, and Voltaire; and regret was always
      expressed at their not having a copy of Corneille. They then played at
      'reversis', which had been Bonaparte's favourite game in his youth. The
      recollection was agreeable to him, and he thought he could amuse himself
      at it for any length of time, but was soon undeceived. His aim was always
      to make the 'reversis', that is, to win every trick. Character is
      displayed in the smallest incidents.
    
On his first arrival, he went to check out the barracks where some Chinese residents lived on the island, as well as a place called Longwood Farm. He mentioned to Las Cases that they had been slacking lately, but gradually their schedule and tasks became set and routine. With the Campaign of Italy now wrapped up, Napoleon revised it and discussed other topics. This was their morning routine. They had lunch between eight and nine, with Madame Montholon seated to Napoleon's right, Las Cases on his left, and Gourgaud, Montholon, and Las Cases' son sitting across from them. Since the smell of paint was still lingering, they only stayed at the table for about ten minutes, and the dessert was prepared in the next room, where coffee was served and conversations began. They read scenes from Molière, Racine, and Voltaire, often expressing disappointment that they didn’t have a copy of Corneille. They then played 'reversis', which had been Bonaparte's favorite game in his youth. The memory was pleasant for him, and he thought he could play it for a long time, but he was soon mistaken. His goal was always to make the 'reversis', meaning to win every trick. Character is revealed in even the smallest moments.







      Napoleon read a libel on himself, and contrasted the compliments which had
      passed between him and the Queen of Prussia with the brutal-behaviour
      ascribed to him in the English newspapers. On the other hand, two common
      sailors had at different times, while he was at Longwood and at the
      Briars, in spite of orders and at all risks, made their way through the
      sentinels to gain a sight of Napoleon. On seeing the interest they took in
      him he exclaimed, "This is fanaticism! Yes, imagination rules the world!"
    
Napoleon read a slanderous article about himself and compared the compliments exchanged between him and the Queen of Prussia with the harsh portrayal of him in the English newspapers. Meanwhile, two ordinary sailors, at different times while he was at Longwood and at the Briars, despite orders and at great risk, managed to get past the guards to catch a glimpse of Napoleon. Seeing their fascination with him, he exclaimed, "This is fanaticism! Yes, imagination rules the world!"







      The instructions of the English Ministers with regard to the treatment of
      Napoleon at St. Helena had been prepared with the view completely to
      secure his person. An English officer was to be constantly at his table.
      This order, however, was not carried into effect. An officer was also to
      accompany Napoleon in all his rides; this order was dispensed with within
      certain prescribed limits, because Napoleon had refused to ride at all on
      such conditions. Almost everyday brought with it some new cause of
      uneasiness and complaint. Sentinels were posted beneath Napoleon's windows
      and before his doors. This order was, however, doubtless given to prevent
      his being annoyed by impertinent curiosity. The French were certainly
      precluded from all free communication with the inhabitants of the island;
      but this precaution was of unquestionable necessity for the security of
      the Emperor's person. Las Cases complains that the passwords were
      perpetually changed, so that they lived in constant perplexity and
      apprehension of being subjected to some unforeseen insult. "Napoleon," he
      continues, "addressed a complaint to the Admiral, which obtained for him
      no redress. In the midst of these complaints the Admiral wished to
      introduce some ladies (who had arrived in the Doric) to Napoleon; but he
      declined, not approving this alternation of affronts and civilities." He,
      however, consented, at the request of their Colonel, to receive the
      officers of the 53d Regiment. After this officer took his leave, Napoleon
      prolonged his walk in the garden. He stopped awhile to look at a flower in
      one of the beds, and asked his companion if it was not a lily. It was
      indeed a magnificent one. The thought that he had in his mind was obvious.
      He then spoke of the number of times he had been wounded; and said it had
      been thought he had never met with these accidents from his having kept
      them secret as much as possible.'
    
The instructions from the English Ministers about how to handle Napoleon at St. Helena were meant to fully ensure his safety. An English officer was supposed to be at his table at all times. However, this order was not carried out. An officer was also meant to go with Napoleon on all his rides; this order was relaxed within certain limits because Napoleon refused to ride under those conditions. Almost every day brought some new reason for concern or complaint. Guards were stationed under Napoleon's windows and in front of his doors. This was likely done to prevent any annoying curiosity. The French were definitely cut off from freely communicating with the island’s residents; however, this precaution was essential for the Emperor's security. Las Cases mentions that the passwords were constantly changing, which left them in a state of confusion and worry about unexpected insults. "Napoleon," he adds, "made a complaint to the Admiral, but it didn’t lead to any changes. In the midst of these complaints, the Admiral wanted to introduce some ladies (who had arrived on the Doric) to Napoleon; but he refused, disapproving of this mix of insults and politeness." However, he did agree, at the request of their Colonel, to meet the officers of the 53rd Regiment. After this officer left, Napoleon continued his walk in the garden. He paused to admire a flower in one of the beds and asked his companion if it was a lily. It really was a beautiful one. The thought on his mind was clear. He then talked about how many times he had been wounded, mentioning that it was believed he had kept these incidents secret as much as possible.







      It was near the end of December. One day, after a walk and a tumble in the
      mud, Bonaparte returned and found a packet of English newspapers, which
      the Grand-Marshal translated to him. This occupied him till late, and he
      forgot his dinner in discussing their contents. After dinner had been
      served Las Cases wished to continue the translation, but Napoleon would
      not suffer him to proceed, from consideration for the weak state of his
      eyes. "We must wait till to-morrow," said he. A few days afterwards the
      Admiral came in person to visit him, and the interview was an agreeable
      one. After some animated discussion it was arranged that Napoleon should
      henceforth ride freely about the island; that the officer should follow
      him only at a distance; and that visitors should be admitted to him, not
      with the permission of the Admiral as the Inspector of Longwood, but with
      that of the Grand-Marshal, who was to do the honours of the establishment.
      These concessions were, however, soon recalled. On the 30th of this month
      Piontkowsky, a Pole; who had been left behind, but whose entreaties
      prevailed upon the English Government, joined Bonaparte. On New-Year's Day
      all their little party was collected together, and Napoleon, entering into
      the feelings of the occasion, begged that they might breakfast and pass it
      together. Every day furnished some new trait of this kind.
    
It was almost the end of December. One day, after a walk and a tumble in the mud, Bonaparte came back and found a packet of English newspapers that the Grand-Marshal translated for him. He was occupied with them until late and forgot about dinner while discussing their contents. After dinner was served, Las Cases wanted to continue the translation, but Napoleon wouldn’t let him proceed because of his weak eyesight. "We have to wait until tomorrow," he said. A few days later, the Admiral came in person to visit him, and the meeting was pleasant. After some lively discussion, they agreed that Napoleon could ride around the island freely; the officer would follow him only at a distance, and visitors could see him not with the Admiral's permission as the Inspector of Longwood, but with the Grand-Marshal's, who would host the establishment. However, these concessions were quickly revoked. On the 30th of this month, Piontkowsky, a Pole who had been left behind, but whose pleas persuaded the English Government, joined Bonaparte. On New Year's Day, their little group gathered together, and Napoleon, wanting to embrace the spirit of the occasion, requested that they have breakfast together and spend the day as a group. Each day brought some new aspect like this.







      On the 14th of April 1816 Sir Hudson Lowe, the new Governor, arrived at
      St. Helena. This epoch is important, as making the beginning of a
      continued series of accusations, and counter-accusations, by which the
      last five years of Napoleon's life were constantly occupied, to the great
      annoyance of himself and all connected with him, and possibly to the
      shortening of his own existence.
    
On April 14, 1816, Sir Hudson Lowe, the new Governor, arrived at St. Helena. This time is significant because it marked the start of a continuous cycle of accusations and counter-accusations that occupied the last five years of Napoleon's life, causing great annoyance to him and everyone around him, and possibly even shortening his life.







      It would be tedious to detail the progress of this petty war, but, as a
      subject which has formed so great a portion of the life of Napoleon, it
      must not be omitted. To avoid anything which may appear like a bias
      against Napoleon, the details, unless when otherwise mentioned, will be
      derived from Las Cases, his devoted admirer.
    
It would be boring to go into detail about the progress of this minor conflict, but since it has been such a big part of Napoleon's life, it can't be left out. To keep from seeming biased against Napoleon, the details, unless noted otherwise, will come from Las Cases, his loyal supporter.







      On the first visit of the new Governor; which was the 16th of April,
      Napoleon refused to admit him, because he himself was ill, and also
      because the Governor had not asked beforehand for an audience. On the
      second visit the Governor, was admitted to an audience, and Napoleon seems
      to have taken a prejudice at first sight, as he remarked to his suite that
      the Governor was "hideous, and had a most ugly countenance," though he
      allowed he ought not to judge too hastily. The spirit of the party was
      shown by a remark made, that the first two days had been days of battle.
    
On the new Governor's first visit on April 16, Napoleon refused to see him because he was sick and the Governor hadn't requested a meeting in advance. During the second visit, the Governor was granted an audience, but Napoleon seemed to have formed a negative impression at first glance, pointing out to his team that the Governor was "hideous and had a really ugly face," although he acknowledged that he shouldn’t judge too quickly. The mood of the group was reflected in a comment made that the first two days had been like days of battle.







      The Governor saw Napoleon again on the 30th April, and the interview was
      stormy. Napoleon argued with the Governor on the conduct of the Allies
      towards him, said they had no right to dispose of him, who was their equal
      and sometimes their master. He then declaimed on the eternal disgrace the
      English had inflicted on themselves by sending him to St. Helena; they
      wished to kill him by a lingering death: their conduct was worse than that
      of the Calabrians in shooting Murat. He talked of the cowardliness of
      suicide, complained of the small extent and horrid climate of St. Helena,
      and said it would be an act of kindness to deprive him of life at once.
      Sir H. Lowe said that a house of wood, fitted up with every possible
      accommodation, was then on its way from England for his use. Napoleon
      refused it at once, and exclaimed that it was not a house but an
      executioner and a coffin that he wanted; the house was a mockery, death
      would be a favour. A few minutes after Napoleon took up some reports of
      the campaigns of 1814, which lay on the table, and asked Sir H. Lowe if he
      had written them. Las Cases, after saying that the Governor replied in the
      affirmative, finishes his account of the interview, but according to
      O'Meara, Napoleon said they were full of folly and falsehood. The
      Governor, with a much milder reply than most men would have given,
      retired, and Napoleon harangued upon the sinister expression of his
      countenance, abused him in the coarsest manner, and made his servant throw
      a cup of coffee out of the window because it had stood a moment on a table
      near the Governor.
    
The Governor met with Napoleon again on April 30th, and the conversation was heated. Napoleon argued with the Governor about how the Allies treated him, claiming they had no right to decide his fate, as he was their equal and sometimes superior. He then criticized the disgrace the English brought upon themselves by sending him to St. Helena, saying they intended to kill him slowly: their actions were worse than the Calabrians shooting Murat. He spoke about the cowardice of suicide, complained about the small size and terrible climate of St. Helena, and stated it would be kinder to end his life quickly. Sir H. Lowe mentioned that a wooden house, equipped with all possible amenities, was on its way from England for him. Napoleon rejected it immediately, insisting he wanted not a house but an executioner and a coffin; the house was a mockery, and death would be a kindness. A few minutes later, Napoleon picked up some reports on the 1814 campaigns that were on the table and asked Sir H. Lowe if he had written them. Las Cases noted that the Governor answered yes, concluding his account of the meeting, but according to O'Meara, Napoleon remarked that they were full of nonsense and lies. The Governor, responding with greater restraint than most would have shown, left, while Napoleon ranted about the sinister look on his face, insulted him harshly, and directed his servant to throw a cup of coffee out of the window because it had been placed on a table near the Governor.







      It was required that all persons who visited at Longwood or at Hut's Gate
      should make a report to the Governor, or to Sir Thomas Reade, of the
      conversations they had held with the French. Several additional sentinels
      were posted around Longwood House and grounds.
    
It was required that everyone who visited Longwood or Hut's Gate report to the Governor or Sir Thomas Reade about their conversations with the French. Several extra sentinels were assigned around Longwood House and its grounds.







      During some extremely wet and foggy weather Napoleon did not go out for
      several days. Messengers and letters continually succeeded one another
      from Plantation House. The Governor appeared anxious to see Napoleon, and
      was evidently distrustful, although the residents at Longwood were assured
      of his actual presence by the sound of his voice. He had some
      communications with Count Bertrand on the necessity that one of his
      officers should see Napoleon daily. He also went to Longwood frequently
      himself, and finally, after some difficulty, succeeded in obtaining an
      interview with Napoleon in his bedchamber, which lasted about a quarter of
      an hour. Some days before he sent for Mr. O'Meara, asked a variety of
      questions concerning the captive, walked round the house several times and
      before the windows, measuring and laying down the plan of a new ditch,
      which he said he would have dug in order to prevent the cattle from
      trespassing.
    
During some really wet and foggy weather, Napoleon stayed inside for several days. Messengers and letters kept coming in from Plantation House. The Governor seemed eager to see Napoleon and was clearly feeling uneasy, even though the people at Longwood were reassured by the sound of his voice. He had some discussions with Count Bertrand about the need for one of his officers to check in on Napoleon every day. He also visited Longwood frequently and eventually, after some challenges, managed to get a meeting with Napoleon in his bedroom, which lasted about fifteen minutes. A few days earlier, he had called for Mr. O'Meara, asked a bunch of questions about the captive, walked around the house several times in front of the windows, measuring and sketching out a plan for a new ditch that he said he would have dug to keep the cattle from wandering onto the property.







      On the morning of the 5th of May Napoleon sent for his surgeon O'Meara to
      come to him. He was introduced into Napoleon's bed-chamber, a description
      of which is thus given: "It was about fourteen feet by twelve, and ten or
      eleven feet in height. The walls were lined with brown nankeen, bordered
      and edged with common green bordering paper, and destitute of skirting.
      Two small windows without pulleys, one of which was thrown up and fastened
      by a piece of notched wood, looked towards the camp of the 53d Regiment.
      There were window-curtains of white long-cloth, a small fire-place, a
      shabby grate and fire-irons to match, with a paltry mantelpiece of wood,
      painted white, upon which stood a small marble bust of his son. Above the
      mantelpiece hung the portrait of Maria Louisa, and four or five of young
      Napoleon, one of which was embroidered by the hands of his mother. A
      little more to the right hung also the portrait of the Empress Josephine;
      and to the left was suspended the alarm chamber-watch of Frederick the
      Great, obtained by Napoleon at Potsdam; while on the right the Consular
      watch, engraved with the cipher B, hung, by a chain of the plaited hair of
      Maria Louisa, from a pin stuck in the nankeen lining. In the right-hand
      corner was placed the little plain iron camp-bedstead, with green silk
      curtains, on which its master had reposed on the fields of Marengo and
      Austerlitz. Between the windows there was a chest of drawers, and a
      bookcase with green blinds stood on the left of the door leading to the
      next apartment. Four or five cane-bottomed chairs painted green were
      standing here and there about the room. Before the back door there was a
      screen covered with nankeen, and between that and the fireplace an
      old-fashioned sofa covered with white long-cloth, on which Napoleon
      reclined, dressed in his white morning-gown, white loose trousers and
      stockings all in one, a chequered red handkerchief upon his head, and his
      shirt-collar open without a cravat. His air was melancholy and troubled.
      Before him stood a little round table, with some books, at the foot of
      which lay in confusion upon the carpet a heap of those which he had
      already perused, and at the opposite side of the sofa was suspended
      Isabey's portrait of the Empress Maria Louisa, holding her son in her
      arms. In front of the fireplace stood Las Cases with his arms folded over
      his breast and some papers in one of his hands. Of all the former
      magnificence of the once mighty Emperor of France nothing remained but a
      superb wash-hand-stand containing a silver basin and water-jug of the same
      metal, in the lefthand corner." The object of Napoleon in sending for
      O'Meara on this occasion was to question him whether in their future
      intercourse he was to consider him in the light of a spy and a tool of the
      Governor or as his physician? The doctor gave a decided and satisfactory
      answer on this point.
    
On the morning of May 5th, Napoleon called for his surgeon, O'Meara, to come to him. He was led into Napoleon's bedroom, which was described as follows: "It was about fourteen feet by twelve, and ten or eleven feet high. The walls were covered with brown fabric, bordered and edged with ordinary green wallpaper, with no skirting. Two small windows without pulleys—one of which was propped open with a piece of notched wood—faced the camp of the 53rd Regiment. There were white cloth curtains, a small fireplace, a shabby grate and matching fire tools, and a modest white-painted wooden mantelpiece that held a small marble bust of his son. Above the mantelpiece hung a portrait of Maria Louisa, along with four or five portraits of young Napoleon, one of which was embroidered by his mother. A little further to the right hung a portrait of Empress Josephine; to the left was the alarm clock of Frederick the Great, which Napoleon acquired at Potsdam; on the right, the Consular watch, engraved with the cipher B, hung by a chain made from Maria Louisa's braided hair, attached to a pin in the fabric lining. In the right corner was a simple iron camp bed with green silk curtains, where its owner had rested in the fields of Marengo and Austerlitz. Between the windows was a chest of drawers, and on the left of the door leading to the next room stood a bookcase with green blinds. Four or five green-painted, cane-bottomed chairs were scattered around the room. In front of the back door was a screen covered with the same fabric, and between that and the fireplace was an old-fashioned sofa draped in white cloth, on which Napoleon reclined, wearing his white morning gown and white loose trousers that were all one piece, a checked red handkerchief on his head, and his shirt collar open without a cravat. His demeanor appeared melancholic and troubled. In front of him was a small round table with some books, and at the foot of which lay a jumble of the ones he had already read. On the opposite side of the sofa was Isabey's portrait of Empress Maria Louisa, holding her son. In front of the fireplace stood Las Cases, arms folded over his chest with some papers in one hand. Of all the former grandeur of the once-mighty Emperor of France, only a magnificent washstand remained, containing a silver basin and water jug in the left corner." The reason Napoleon sent for O'Meara this time was to ask whether he should view him as a spy and a tool of the Governor or as his doctor. The doctor provided a clear and reassuring answer to this question.







      "During the short interview that this Governor had with me in my
      bedchamber, one of the first things he proposed was to send you away,"
      said Napoleon to O'Meara, "and that I should take his own surgeon in your
      place. This he repeated, and so earnest was he to gain his object that,
      though I gave him a flat refusal, when he was going out he turned about
      and again proposed it."
    
"During the brief interview I had with this Governor in my bedroom, one of the first things he suggested was sending you away," Napoleon said to O'Meara, "and that I should take his own surgeon instead of you. He brought it up again, and he was so determined to make it happen that even after I flatly refused, he turned around as he was leaving and proposed it again."







      On the 11th a proclamation was issued by the Governor, "forbidding any
      persons on the island from sending letters to or receiving them from
      General Bonaparte or his suite, on pain of being immediately arrested and
      dealt with accordingly." Nothing escaped the vigilance of Sir Hudson Lowe.
      "The Governor," said Napoleon, "has just sent an invitation to Bertrand
      for General Bonaparte to come to Plantation House to meet Lady Moira. I
      told Bertrand to return no answer to it. If he really wanted me to see her
      he would have put Plantation House within the limits, but to send such an
      invitation, knowing I must go in charge of a guard if I wished to avail
      myself of it, was an insult."
    
On the 11th, the Governor issued a proclamation "prohibiting anyone on the island from sending or receiving letters to or from General Bonaparte or his entourage, under the threat of being immediately arrested and dealt with accordingly." Nothing escaped Sir Hudson Lowe's watchful eye. "The Governor," Napoleon said, "has just invited Bertrand for General Bonaparte to come to Plantation House to meet Lady Moira. I told Bertrand not to respond. If he really wanted me to see her, he would have included Plantation House within the limits, but sending such an invitation, knowing I would have to go with an escort if I wanted to accept it, was an insult."







      Soon after came the Declaration of the Allies and the Acts of Parliament
      authorising the detention of Napoleon Bonaparte as a prisoner of war and
      disturber of the peace of Europe. Against the Bill, when brought into the
      House of Lords, there were two protests, those of Lord Holland and of the
      Duke of Sussex. These official documents did not tend to soothe the temper
      or raise the spirits of the French to endure their captivity.
    
Soon after came the Declaration of the Allies and the Acts of Parliament authorizing the detention of Napoleon Bonaparte as a prisoner of war and a disruptor of the peace in Europe. When the Bill was introduced in the House of Lords, there were two protests: those from Lord Holland and the Duke of Sussex. These official documents did not help calm the anger or lift the spirits of the French as they faced their captivity.







      In addition to the misery of his own captivity, Napoleon had to contend
      with the unmanageable humours of his own followers. As often happens with
      men in such circumstances, they sometimes disagreed among themselves, and
      part of their petulance and ill-temper fell upon their Chief. He took
      these little incidents deeply to heart. On one occasion he said in
      bitterness, "I know that I am fallen; but to feel this among you! I am
      aware that man is frequently unreasonable and susceptible of offence.
      Thus, when I am mistrustful of myself I ask, should I have been treated so
      at the Tuileries? This is my test."
    
In addition to the misery of his own captivity, Napoleon had to deal with the unpredictable moods of his followers. As often happens in such situations, they sometimes disagreed with each other, and their frustration and bad tempers often directed towards their leader. He took these little incidents to heart. At one point, he expressed his bitterness, saying, "I know I've fallen; but to feel this from you all! I'm aware that people can be unreasonable and easily offended. So, when I start to doubt myself, I ask, should I have been treated this way at the Tuileries? That's my measure."







      A great deal of pains has been taken by Napoleon's adherents and others to
      blacken the character of Sir Hudson Lowe, and to make it appear that his
      sole object was to harass Napoleon and to make his life miserable. Now,
      although it may be questioned whether Sir Hudson Lowe was the proper
      person to be placed in the delicate situation of guard over the fallen
      Emperor, there is no doubt that quarrels and complaints began long before
      that officer reached the island; and the character of those complaints
      will show that at best the prisoners were persons very difficult to
      satisfy. Their detention at the Briars was one of the first causes of
      complaint. It was stated that the Emperor was very ill there, that he was
      confined "in a cage" with no attendance, that his suite was kept from him,
      and that he was deprived of exercise. A few pages farther in the journal
      of Las Cases we find the Emperor in good health, and as soon as it was
      announced that Longwood was ready to receive him, then it was urged that
      the gaolers wished to compel him to go against his will, that they desired
      to push their authority to the utmost, that the smell of the paint at
      Longwood was very disagreeable, etc. Napoleon himself was quite ready to
      go, and seemed much vexed when Count Bertrand and General Gourgaud arrived
      from Longwood with the intelligence that the place was as yet
      uninhabitable. His displeasure, however, was much more seriously excited
      by the appearance of Count Montholon with the information that all was
      ready at Longwood within a few minutes after receiving the contrary
      accounts from Bertrand and Gourgaud. He probably perceived that he was
      trifled with by his attendants, who endeavoured to make him believe that
      which suited their own convenience. We may also remark that the systematic
      opposition which was carried to such a great length against Sir Hudson
      Lowe had begun during the stay of Admiral Cockburn. His visits were
      refused; he was accused of caprice, arrogance, and impertinence, and he
      was nicknamed "the Shark" by Napoleon himself; his own calmness alone
      probably prevented more violent ebullitions.
    
A lot of effort has been made by Napoleon's supporters and others to tarnish the reputation of Sir Hudson Lowe, making it seem like his only goal was to torment Napoleon and make his life miserable. While it's debatable whether Sir Hudson Lowe was the right person to be in charge of watching over the fallen Emperor, it's clear that arguments and complaints started long before he arrived on the island, and the nature of those complaints indicates that the prisoners were very hard to please. Their stay at the Briars was one of the first sources of complaint. It was said that the Emperor was quite ill there, that he was confined "in a cage" without proper care, that his entourage was kept from him, and that he was denied any exercise. A few pages later in Las Cases' journal, we see the Emperor in good health, and as soon as it was announced that Longwood was ready for him, it was claimed that the guards wanted to force him to go against his will, that they were trying to assert their authority to the fullest, and that the smell of paint at Longwood was very unpleasant, etc. Napoleon was ready to leave and seemed quite annoyed when Count Bertrand and General Gourgaud came from Longwood with the news that the place was still uninhabitable. However, his frustration grew much more when Count Montholon arrived with the news that everything was ready at Longwood just minutes after receiving the opposite information from Bertrand and Gourgaud. He likely sensed that his attendants were playing games with him, trying to make him believe what worked for their own interests. It’s worth noting that the organized opposition against Sir Hudson Lowe had started during Admiral Cockburn’s stay. His visits were declined; he was labeled as capricious, arrogant, and rude, and Napoleon himself referred to him as "the Shark." His own calm demeanor likely prevented more explosive reactions.







      The wooden house arrived at last, and the Governor waited on Napoleon to
      consult with him how and where it should be erected. Las Cases, who heard
      the dispute in an adjoining room, says that it was long and clamorous.
    
The wooden house finally arrived, and the Governor waited for Napoleon to discuss how and where it should be set up. Las Cases, who overheard the argument in the next room, said it was lengthy and loud.







      He gives the details in Napoleon's own words, and we have here the
      advantage of comparing his statement with the account transmitted by Sir
      Hudson Lowe to the British Government, dated 17th May 1816. The two
      accounts vary but little. Napoleon admits that he was thrown quite out of
      temper, that he received the Governor with his stormy countenance, looked
      furiously at him, and made no reply to his information of the arrival of
      the house but by a significant look. He told him that he wanted nothing,
      nor would receive anything at his hands; that he supposed he was to be put
      to death by poison or the sword; the poison would be difficult to
      administer, but he had the means of doing it with the sword. The sanctuary
      of his abode should not be violated, and the troops should not enter his
      house but by trampling on his corpse. He then alluded to an invitation
      sent to him by Sir Hudson Lows to meet Lady Loudon at his house, and said
      there could not be an act of more refined cruelty than inviting him to his
      table by the title of "General," to make him an object of ridicule or
      amusement to his guests. What right had he to call him "General"
      Bonaparte? He would not be deprived of his dignity by him, nor by any one
      in the world. He certainly should have condescended to visit Lady Loudon
      had she been within his limits, as he did not stand upon strict etiquette
      with a woman, but he should have deemed that he was conferring an honour
      upon her. He would not consider himself a prisoner of war, but was placed
      in his present position by the most horrible breach of trust. After a few
      more words he dismissed the Governor without once more alluding to the
      house which was the object of the visit. The fate of this unfortunate
      house may be mentioned here. It was erected after a great many disputes,
      but was unfortunately surrounded by a sunk fence and ornamental railing.
      This was immediately connected in Napoleon's mind with the idea of a
      fortification; it was impossible to remove the impression that the ditch
      and palisade were intended to secure his person. As soon as the objection
      was made known, Sir Hudson Lowe ordered the ground to be levelled and the
      rails taken away. But before this was quite completed Napoleon's health
      was too much destroyed to permit his removal, and the house was never
      occupied.
    
He shares the details in Napoleon's own words, and we can compare his account with the one that Sir Hudson Lowe sent to the British Government on May 17, 1816. The two accounts are very similar. Napoleon admits that he lost his temper, greeted the Governor with an angry expression, glared at him, and didn’t respond to the news about the house except with a meaningful glance. He told him that he wanted nothing and wouldn’t accept anything from him. He suspected he would be killed by poison or the sword; administering poison would be difficult, but he was capable of using the sword. The sanctity of his home wouldn’t be violated, and the troops would only enter his house over his dead body. He then referenced an invitation from Sir Hudson Lowe to meet Lady Loudon at his house, noting that there couldn’t be a more refined form of cruelty than inviting him to his table as "General," turning him into a subject of mockery or entertainment for his guests. What right did he have to call him "General" Bonaparte? He wouldn’t let anyone in the world strip away his dignity. He certainly would have visited Lady Loudon if she had been within his territory, as he didn’t prioritize strict etiquette with a woman, but he would have considered it an honor for her. He wouldn’t see himself as a prisoner of war; he was in his current situation due to an outrageous betrayal of trust. After a few more remarks, he dismissed the Governor without mentioning the house again. The fate of this unfortunate house can be noted here. It was built after many disputes but was sadly surrounded by a sunken fence and decorative railing. This immediately connected in Napoleon's mind with the idea of fortification; he couldn’t shake the impression that the ditch and palisade were meant to secure him. Once the objection was raised, Sir Hudson Lowe ordered the ground to be leveled and the rails removed. But before this was completely finished, Napoleon's health deteriorated too much for him to be moved, and the house was never occupied.







      Napoleon seems to have felt that he had been too violent in his conduct.
      He admitted, when at table with his suite a few days after, that he had
      behaved very ill, and that in any other situation he should blush for what
      he had done. "I could have wished, for his sake," he said, "to see him
      evince a little anger, or pull the door violently after him when he went
      away." These few words let us into a good deal of Napoleon's character: he
      liked to intimidate, but his vehement language was received with a
      calmness and resolute forbearance to which he was quite unaccustomed, and
      he consequently grew more angry as his anger was less regarded.
    
Napoleon seemed to realize that he had been too harsh in his actions. A few days later, while dining with his staff, he confessed that he had acted poorly and that he would be embarrassed by his behavior in any other context. "I would have preferred, for his sake," he remarked, "to see him show a little anger, or to slam the door hard when he left." These few words reveal quite a bit about Napoleon's character: he enjoyed intimidating others, but his intense words were met with a calm and steadfast restraint that he wasn't used to, and as a result, he became more frustrated as his anger was less acknowledged.







      The specimens here given of the disputes with Sir Hudson Lowe may probably
      suffice: a great many more are furnished by Las Cases, O'Meara, and other
      partisans of Napoleon, and even they always make him the aggressor.
      Napoleon himself in his cooler moments seemed to admit this; after the
      most violent quarrel with the Governor, that of the 18th of August 1816,
      which utterly put an end to anything like decent civility between the
      parties; he allowed that he had used the Governor very ill, that he
      repeatedly and purposely offended him, and that Sir Hudson Lowe had not in
      a single instance shown a want of respect, except perhaps that he retired
      too abruptly.
    
The examples provided here of the disputes with Sir Hudson Lowe might be enough: many more are detailed by Las Cases, O'Meara, and other supporters of Napoleon, and they always portray him as the aggressor. Even Napoleon himself, in more rational moments, seemed to acknowledge this; after the most intense argument with the Governor, which happened on August 18, 1816, ending any semblance of decent civility between them, he admitted that he had treated the Governor harshly, that he had repeatedly and intentionally provoked him, and that Sir Hudson Lowe had not shown any disrespect, except perhaps for leaving too suddenly.







      Great complaints were made of the scanty way in which the table of the
      exiles was supplied; and it was again and again alleged by them that they
      had scarcely anything to eat. The wine, too, was said to be execrable, so
      bad that in fact it could not be drunk; and, of such stuff as it was, only
      one bottle a day was allowed to each person—an allowance which Las
      Cases calls ridiculously small. Thus pressed, but partly for effect,
      Napoleon resolved to dispose of his plate in monthly proportions; and as
      he knew that some East India captains had offered as much as a hundred
      guineas for a single plate, in order to preserve a memorial of him, he
      determined that what was sold should be broken up, the arms erased, and no
      trace left which could show that they had ever been his. The only portions
      left uninjured were the little eagles with which some of the dish-covers
      were mounted. These last fragments were objects of veneration for the
      attendants of Napoleon, they were looked upon as relics, with a feeling at
      once melancholy and religious. When the moment came for breaking up the
      plate Las Cases bears testimony to the painful emotions and real grief
      produced among the servants. They could not, without the utmost
      reluctance, bring themselves to apply the hammer to those objects of their
      veneration.
    
Many complaints were made about the meager supplies at the exiles' table; they repeatedly claimed they hardly had enough to eat. The wine was also said to be terrible—so bad that it was basically undrinkable. Plus, everyone was limited to just one bottle a day, an allowance that Las Cases called ridiculously small. Under pressure, though partly for show, Napoleon decided to sell off his plates in monthly batches. Knowing that some East India captains offered as much as a hundred guineas for a single plate as a keepsake of him, he resolved that the sold items would be destroyed, the insignia removed, and no signs left that they had ever belonged to him. The only parts left intact were the small eagles on some of the dish covers. These last pieces were regarded with great reverence by Napoleon's attendants; they were seen as relics, evoking both melancholy and a sense of reverence. When the time came to break the plates, Las Cases witnessed the painful emotions and genuine grief among the servants. They could hardly bring themselves to use the hammer on those cherished objects.







      The island of St. Helena was regularly visited by East India ships on the
      return voyage, which touched there to take in water, and to leave
      gunpowder for the use of the garrison. On such occasions there were always
      persons anxious to pay a visit to the renowned captive. The regulation of
      those visits was calculated to protect Napoleon from being annoyed by the
      idle curiosity of strangers, to which he professed a great aversion. Such
      persons as wished to wait upon him were, in the first place, obliged to
      apply to the Governor, by whom their names were forwarded to Count
      Bertrand. This gentleman, as Grand-Marshal of the household, communicated
      the wishes of those persons to Napoleon, and in case of a favourable reply
      fixed the hour for an interview.
    
The island of St. Helena was regularly visited by ships from the East India Company on their way back, stopping there to collect water and drop off gunpowder for the garrison. During these times, there were always people eager to meet the famous captive. The rules for these visits were designed to protect Napoleon from the annoying curiosity of strangers, which he claimed to dislike greatly. Anyone wanting to see him first had to apply to the Governor, who would then forward their names to Count Bertrand. This gentleman, as the Grand-Marshal of the household, would pass on those requests to Napoleon, and if he agreed, he would set a time for the meeting.







      Those visitors whom Napoleon admitted were chiefly persons of rank and
      distinction, travellers from distant countries, or men who had
      distinguished themselves in the scientific world, and who could
      communicate interesting information in exchange for the gratification they
      received. Some of those persons who were admitted to interviews with him
      have published narratives of their conversation, and all agree in
      extolling the extreme grace, propriety, and appearance of benevolence
      manifested by Bonaparte while holding these levees. His questions were
      always put with great tact, and on some subject with which the person
      interrogated was well acquainted, so as to induce him to bring forth any
      new or curious information of which he might be possessed.
    
The visitors Napoleon allowed in were mostly people of high status and distinction, travelers from far-off places, or individuals who had made a name for themselves in the scientific community, and who could share interesting insights in return for the pleasure they received. Some of those who had conversations with him have published accounts of their discussions, and they all agree on praising the remarkable grace, appropriateness, and appearance of kindness that Bonaparte displayed during these gatherings. His questions were always asked with great skill and often on topics the interviewee knew well, encouraging them to share any new or intriguing information they had.







      Captain Basil Hall, in August 1817, when in command of the Lyra, had an
      interview with the Emperor, of whom he says: "Bonaparte struck me as
      differing considerably from the pictures and busts' I had seen of him. His
      face and figure looked much broader and more square—larger, indeed,
      in every way than any representation I had met with. His corpulency, at
      this time universally reported to be excessive, was by no means
      remarkable. His flesh looked, on the contrary, firm and muscular. There
      was not the least trace of colour in his cheeks; in fact his skin was more
      like marble than ordinary flesh. Not the smallest trace of a wrinkle was
      discernible on his brow, nor an approach to a furrow on any part of his
      countenance. His health and spirits, judging from appearances, were
      excellent, though at this period it was generally believed in England that
      he was fast sinking under a complication of diseases, and that his spirits
      were entirely gone. His manner of speaking was rather slow than otherwise,
      and perfectly distinct; he waited with great patience and kindness for my
      answers to his questions, and a reference to Count Bertrand was necessary
      only once during the whole conversation. The brilliant and sometimes
      dazzling expression of his eye could not be overlooked. It was not,
      however, a permanent lustre, for it was only remarkable when he was
      excited by some point of particular interest. It is impossible to imagine
      an expression of more entire mildness, I may almost call it of benignity
      and kindness, than that which played over his features during the whole
      interview. If, therefore he were at this time out of health and in low
      spirits, his power of self-command must have been even more extraordinary
      than is generally supposed, for his whole deportment, his conversation,
      and the expression of his countenance indicated a frame in perfect health
      and a mind at ease."
    
Captain Basil Hall, in August 1817, while commanding the Lyra, had a meeting with the Emperor, of whom he says: "Bonaparte struck me as quite different from the pictures and busts I had seen of him. His face and figure seemed much broader and more square—larger, in fact, in every way than any representation I had come across. His weight, at this time widely reported to be excessive, was by no means noticeable. His body looked, on the contrary, firm and muscular. There was not a hint of color in his cheeks; in fact, his skin resembled marble more than regular flesh. Not even the smallest wrinkle was visible on his brow, nor any sign of a furrow on any part of his face. His health and mood, judging by appearances, seemed excellent, even though at that time it was generally believed in England that he was rapidly deteriorating due to a mix of illnesses and that his spirits were completely gone. His way of speaking was rather slow and perfectly clear; he waited with great patience and kindness for my responses to his questions, and I only needed to refer to Count Bertrand once during the entire conversation. The brilliant and sometimes dazzling expression in his eyes was impossible to ignore. However, it wasn't a constant shine, as it only became remarkable when he was stimulated by something particularly interesting. It's hard to imagine a look of more pure gentleness, I might even call it benignity and kindness, than the one that played across his features throughout the interview. If he were indeed unwell and in low spirits at this time, his ability to maintain composure must have been even more extraordinary than generally believed, because his entire demeanor, his conversation, and the expression on his face indicated a person in perfect health and a mind at ease."







      The manner assumed by Napoleon in the occasional interviews he had with
      such visitors was so very opposite to that which he constantly maintained
      towards the authorities in whose custody he was placed, that we can
      scarcely doubt he was acting a part in one of those situations. It was
      suggested by Mr. Ellis that he either wished, by means of his continual
      complaints, to keep alive his interest in England, where he flattered
      himself there was a party favourable to him, or that his troubled mind
      found an occupation in the annoyance which he caused to the Governor.
      Every attempt at conciliation on the part of Sir Hudson Lowe furnished
      fresh causes for irritation. He sent fowling-pieces to Longwood, and the
      thanks returned were a reply from Napoleon that it was an insult to send
      fowling-pieces where there was no game. An invitation to a ball was
      resented vehemently, and descanted upon by the French party as a great
      offence. Sir Hudson Lowe at one time sent a variety of clothes and other
      articles received from England which he imagined might be useful at
      Longwood. Great offence was taken at this; they were treated, they said,
      like paupers; the articles, ought to have been left at the Governor's
      house, and a list sent respectfully to the household, stating that such
      things were at their command if they wanted them.
    
The way Napoleon acted during the occasional visits he had with guests was so completely different from how he always interacted with the authorities overseeing him that it’s hard to believe he wasn’t putting on a show in those situations. Mr. Ellis suggested that he either wanted to keep his profile alive in England, where he believed there was a faction that supported him, or that his restless mind found distraction in annoying the Governor. Every time Sir Hudson Lowe tried to make peace, it only added to the irritation. He sent hunting guns to Longwood, but Napoleon responded with thanks, saying it was an insult to send guns where there was no game. An invitation to a ball was met with outrage and discussed by the French group as a major offense. At one point, Sir Hudson Lowe sent a selection of clothes and other items he thought could be useful at Longwood. This was taken very poorly; they claimed it made them feel like beggars. They insisted that those items should have been left at the Governor's house, with a respectful note sent to them saying that such things were available if they needed them.







      An opinion has already been expressed that much of this annoyance was due
      to the offended pride of Napoleon's attendants, who were at first
      certainly far more captious than himself. He admitted as much himself on
      one occasion in a conversation with O'Meara. He said, "Las Cases certainly
      was greatly irritated against Sir Hudson, and contributed materially
      towards forming the impressions existing in my mind." He attributed this
      to the sensitive mind of Las Cases, which he said was peculiarly alive to
      the ill-treatment Napoleon and himself had been subjected to. Sir Hudson
      Lowe also felt this, and remarked, like Sir George Cockburn, on more than
      one occasion, that he always found Napoleon himself more reasonable than
      the persons about him.
    
Some have already suggested that a lot of this annoyance came from the hurt pride of Napoleon's attendants, who were definitely more critical than he was at first. Napoleon acknowledged this in a conversation with O'Meara, saying, "Las Cases was definitely very upset with Sir Hudson and played a big role in shaping my thoughts." He attributed this to Las Cases's sensitive nature, which he claimed was particularly responsive to the mistreatment that both he and Napoleon had faced. Sir Hudson Lowe felt the same way and, like Sir George Cockburn, noted multiple times that he always found Napoleon himself to be more reasonable than those surrounding him.







      A fertile source of annoyance was the resolution of Napoleon not upon any
      terms to acknowledge himself a prisoner, and his refusal to submit to such
      regulations as would render his captivity less burdensome. More than once
      the attendance of an officer was offered to be discontinued if he would
      allow himself to be seen once every day, and promise to take no means of
      escaping. "If he were to give me the whole of the island," said Napoleon,
      "on condition that I would pledge my word not to attempt an escape, I
      would not accept it; because it would be equivalent to acknowledging
      myself a prisoner, although at the same time I would not make the attempt.
      I am here by force, and not by right. If I had been taken at Waterloo
      perhaps I might have had no hesitation in accepting it, although even in
      that case it would be contrary to the law of nations, as now there is no
      war. If they were to offer me permission to reside in England on similar
      conditions I would refuse it." The very idea of exhibiting himself to an
      officer every day, though but for a moment, was repelled with indignation.
      He even kept loaded pistols to shoot any person who should attempt an
      intrusion on his privacy. It is stated in a note in O'Meara's journal that
      "the Emperor was so firmly impressed with the idea that an attempt would
      be made forcibly to intrude on his privacy, that from a short time after
      the departure of Sir George Cockburn he always kept four or five pairs of
      loaded pistols and some swords in his apartment, with which he was
      determined to despatch the first who entered against his will." It seems
      this practice was continued to his death.
    
A constant source of frustration was Napoleon's determination to never acknowledge that he was a prisoner, and his refusal to agree to any rules that might make his confinement easier. More than once, an officer offered to stop attending him if he would just allow himself to be seen once a day and promise not to try to escape. "Even if they gave me the entire island," Napoleon said, "on the condition that I promised not to escape, I still wouldn’t accept it; because that would mean I was admitting I was a prisoner, even though I wouldn't try to escape. I'm here by force, not by choice. If I had been captured at Waterloo, maybe I wouldn’t have hesitated to accept it, although even then it would go against international law, since there's no war now. If they offered me permission to live in England under similar conditions, I would refuse." The very thought of having to show himself to an officer every day, even for just a moment, filled him with outrage. He even kept loaded pistols to threaten anyone who tried to invade his privacy. A note in O'Meara's journal states that "the Emperor was so convinced that someone would try to force their way into his privacy that shortly after Sir George Cockburn left, he always kept four or five pairs of loaded pistols and some swords in his room, ready to deal with anyone who entered against his will." This practice apparently continued until his death.







      Napoleon continued to pass the mornings in dictating his Memoirs and the
      evenings in reading or conversation. He grew fonder of Racine, but his
      favourite was Corneille. He repeated that, had he lived in his time, he
      would have made him a prince. He had a distaste to Voltaire, and found
      considerable fault with his dramas, perhaps justly, as conveying opinions
      rather than sentiments. He criticised his Mahomet, and said he had made
      him merely an impostor and a tyrant, without representing him as a great
      man. This was owing to Voltaire's religious and political antipathies; for
      those who are free from common prejudices acquire others of their own in
      their stead, to which they are equally bigoted, and which they bring
      forward on all occasions. When the evening passed off in conversation
      without having recourse to books he considered it a point gained.
    
Napoleon spent his mornings dictating his Memoirs and his evenings reading or talking with others. He grew to appreciate Racine more, but his favorite was still Corneille. He often said that if he had lived in Corneille's time, he would have made him a prince. He had an aversion to Voltaire and criticized his plays for focusing more on ideas than on emotions. He specifically commented on Voltaire’s Mahomet, saying that it portrayed him simply as a fraud and a tyrant, without showing him as a noteworthy figure. This criticism stemmed from Voltaire's religious and political biases; those who are free from mainstream prejudices tend to adopt their own, to which they can be equally dogmatic, and they express these views at every opportunity. Whenever the evening was spent in conversation without resorting to books, he considered it a success.







      Some one having asked the Emperor which was the greatest battle that he
      had fought, he replied it was difficult to answer that question without
      inquiring what was implied by the greatest battle. "Mine," continued he,
      "cannot be judged of separately: they formed a portion of extensive plans.
      They must therefore be estimated by their consequences. The battle of
      Marengo, which was so long undecided, procured for us the command of all
      Italy. Ulm annihilated a whole army; Jena laid the whole Prussian monarchy
      at our feet; Friedland opened the Russian empire to us; and Eckmuhl
      decided the fate of a war. The battle of the Moskwa was that in which the
      greatest talent was displayed, and by which we obtained the fewest
      advantages. Waterloo, where everything failed, would, had victory crowned
      our efforts, have saved France and given peace to Europe."
    
Someone asked the Emperor which battle he considered the greatest. He replied that it was hard to answer that without defining what "greatest" meant. "My battles," he continued, "can't be judged in isolation; they were part of larger plans. They should be evaluated based on their outcomes. The battle of Marengo, which took a long time to decide, gave us control of all of Italy. Ulm destroyed an entire army; Jena put the entire Prussian monarchy at our mercy; Friedland opened the Russian empire to us; and Eckmuhl decided the outcome of a war. The battle of the Moskwa showcased the greatest skill but yielded the fewest benefits. Waterloo, where everything went wrong, would have, had we won, saved France and brought peace to Europe."







      Madame Montholon having inquired what troops he considered the best,
      "Those which are victorious, madam," replied the Emperor. "But," added he,
      "soldiers are capricious and inconstant, like you ladies. The best troops
      were the Carthaginians under Hannibal, the Romans under the Scipios, the
      Macedonians under Alexander, and the Prussians under Frederick." He
      thought, however, that the French soldiers were of all others those which
      could most easily be rendered the best, and preserved so. "With my
      complete guard of 40,000 or 50,000 men I would have undertaken to march
      through Europe. It is perhaps possible to produce troops as good as those
      that composed my army of Italy and Austerlitz, but certainly none can ever
      surpass them."
    
Madame Montholon asked him which troops he thought were the best. "The victorious ones, ma'am," replied the Emperor. "But," he added, "soldiers can be unpredictable and inconsistent, like you ladies. The best troops were the Carthaginians under Hannibal, the Romans under the Scipios, the Macedonians under Alexander, and the Prussians under Frederick." He believed, however, that the French soldiers were the ones that could be the easiest to make the best and maintain that standard. "With my full guard of 40,000 or 50,000 men, I could have marched through Europe. It might be possible to create troops as good as those in my army of Italy and Austerlitz, but none will ever surpass them."







      The anniversary of the battle of Waterloo produced a visible impression on
      the Emperor. "Incomprehensible day!" said he, dejectedly; "concurrence of
      unheard-of fatalities! Grouchy, Ney, D'Erlon—was there treachery or
      was it merely misfortune? Alas! poor France!" Here he covered his eyes
      with his hands. "And yet," said he, "all that human skill could do was
      accomplished! All was not lost until the moment when all had succeeded." A
      short time afterwards, resuming the subject, he exclaimed, "In that
      extraordinary campaign, thrice, in less than a week, I saw the certain
      triumph of France slip through my fingers. Had it not been for a traitor I
      should have annihilated the enemy at the outset of the campaign. I should
      have destroyed him at Ligny if my left wing had only done its duty. I
      should have destroyed him again at Waterloo if my right had seconded me.
      Singular defeat, by which, notwithstanding the most fatal catastrophe, the
      glory of the conquered has not suffered."
    
The anniversary of the Battle of Waterloo left a strong impact on the Emperor. "Incomprehensible day!" he said sadly. "A combination of incredible misfortunes! Grouchy, Ney, D'Erlon—was there betrayal, or was it just bad luck? Alas! poor France!" He covered his eyes with his hands. "And yet," he continued, "everything that human skill could achieve was accomplished! Nothing was truly lost until the moment when everything seemed to be going well." A little later, as he revisited the topic, he exclaimed, "In that extraordinary campaign, three times in less than a week, I saw France's certain victory slip away from me. If it hadn't been for a traitor, I would have crushed the enemy right at the start of the campaign. I could have defeated him at Ligny if my left wing had just done its job. I could have defeated him again at Waterloo if my right had supported me. It's a strange defeat, where, despite the most disastrous outcome, the glory of the conquered hasn't been tarnished."







      We shall here give Napoleon's own opinion of the battle of Waterloo. "The
      plan of the battle," said he, "will not in the eyes of the historian
      reflect any credit on Lord Wellington as a general. In the first place, he
      ought not to have given battle with the armies divided. They ought to have
      been united and encamped before the 15th. In the next, the choice of
      ground was bad; because if he had been beaten he could not have retreated,
      as there was only one road leading through the forest in his rear. He also
      committed a fault which might have proved the destruction of all his army,
      without its ever having commenced the campaign, or being drawn out in
      battle; he allowed himself to be surprised. On the 15th I was at
      Charleroi, and had beaten the Prussians without his knowing anything about
      it. I had gained forty-eight hours of manoeuvres upon him, which was a
      great object; and if some of my generals had shown that vigour and genius
      which they had displayed on other occasions, I should have taken his army
      in cantonments without ever fighting a battle. But they were discouraged,
      and fancied that they saw an army of 100,000 men everywhere opposed to
      them. I had not time enough myself to attend to the minutiae of the army.
      I counted upon surprising and cutting Wellington up in detail. I knew of
      Bulow's arrival at eleven o'clock, but I did not regard it. I had still
      eighty chances out of a hundred in my favour. Notwithstanding the great
      superiority of force against me I was convinced that I should obtain the
      victory, I had about 70,000 men, of whom 15,000 were cavalry. I had also
      260 pieces of cannon; but my troops were so good that I esteemed them
      sufficient to beat 120,000. Of all those troops, however, I only reckoned
      the English as being able to cope with my own. The others I thought little
      of. I believe that of English there were from 35,000 to 40,000. These I
      esteemed to be as brave and as good as my own troops; the English army was
      well known latterly on the Continent, and besides, your nation possesses
      courage and energy. As to the Prussians, Belgians, and others, half the
      number of my troops, were sufficient to beat them. I only left 34,000 men
      to take care of the Prussians. The chief causes of the loss of that battle
      were, first of all, Grouchy's great tardiness and neglect in executing his
      orders; next, the 'grenadiers a cheval' and the cavalry under General
      Guyot, which I had in reserve, and which were never to leave me, engaged
      without orders and without my knowledge; so that after the last charge,
      when the troops were beaten and the English cavalry advanced, I had not a
      single corps of cavalry in reserve to resist them, instead of one which I
      esteemed to be equal to double their own number. In consequence of this
      the English attacked, succeeded, and all was lost. There was no means of
      rallying. The youngest general would not have committed the fault of
      leaving an army entirely without reserve, which, however, occurred here,
      whether in consequence of treason or not I cannot say. These were the two
      principal causes of the loss of the battle of Waterloo."
    
We’re going to share Napoleon’s view on the battle of Waterloo. “The plan for the battle,” he said, “won’t earn Lord Wellington any respect as a general in the eyes of historians. First, he shouldn’t have engaged in battle with his armies split up. They should have been united and camped before the 15th. Second, the choice of the battlefield was poor; if he had lost, he wouldn’t have been able to retreat because there was only one road through the forest behind him. He also made a mistake that could have led to the destruction of his entire army without ever starting the campaign or engaging in battle; he allowed himself to be surprised. On the 15th, I was at Charleroi and had already defeated the Prussians without him knowing anything about it. I had gained forty-eight hours of maneuvering on him, which was a significant advantage; had some of my generals shown the energy and skill they had in the past, I could have captured his army while they were in their camps without ever fighting a battle. But they were discouraged and imagined that they were facing an army of 100,000 men everywhere. I didn’t have enough time to focus on the details of the army myself. I planned to surprise and break Wellington’s forces bit by bit. I knew Bulow was arriving at eleven o'clock, but I didn’t pay much attention to it. I still had about an 80% chance of winning. Despite being greatly outnumbered, I was sure I would win; I had around 70,000 men, with 15,000 of them being cavalry. I also had 260 cannons; my troops were so good that I believed they could defeat 120,000. However, I only considered the English troops as capable of matching my own. I thought little of the others. I believe the English had about 35,000 to 40,000 men, and I regarded them as brave and as capable as my own troops; the English army had recently gained a good reputation on the Continent, plus your nation is known for its courage and determination. As for the Prussians, Belgians, and others, half my troops would have been enough to defeat them. I only left 34,000 men to keep an eye on the Prussians. The main reasons for losing that battle were, first, Grouchy’s significant delay and failure to carry out his orders; secondly, the ‘grenadiers à cheval’ and the cavalry under General Guyot, which I had in reserve and were not supposed to leave my side, engaged without my orders or knowledge; so after the last charge, when my troops were beaten and the English cavalry advanced, I had no cavalry reserves left to fight them off, instead of having one I thought could match their numbers. Because of this, the English attacked, succeeded, and everything was lost. There was no way to regroup. Even the most inexperienced general wouldn’t have made the mistake of leaving an army completely without reserves, which is what happened here, though whether it was because of treachery or not, I can’t say. Those were the two main reasons for the loss at the battle of Waterloo.”







      "If Lord Wellington had intrenched himself," continued Napoleon, "I would
      not have attacked him. As a general, his plan did not show talent. He
      certainly displayed great courage and obstinacy; but a little must be
      taken away even from that when you consider that he had no means of
      retreat, and that had he made the attempt not a man of his army would have
      escaped. First, to the firmness and bravery of his troops, for the English
      fought with the greatest courage and obstinacy, he is principally indebted
      for the victory, and not to his own conduct as a general; and next, to the
      arrival of Blücher, to whom the victory is more to be attributed than to
      Wellington, and more credit is due as a general; because he, although
      beaten the day before, assembled his troops, and brought them into action
      in the evening. I believe, however," continued Napoleon, "that Wellington
      is a man of great firmness. The glory of such a victory is a great thing;
      but in the eye of the historian his military reputation will gain nothing
      by it."
    
"If Lord Wellington had entrenched himself," Napoleon continued, "I wouldn’t have attacked him. As a general, his plan wasn't very impressive. He certainly showed a lot of courage and stubbornness, but you have to take a bit away from that when you consider he had no way to retreat, and if he had tried, not a single soldier in his army would have escaped. Firstly, he is mainly indebted for the victory to the determination and bravery of his troops, as the English fought with incredible courage and tenacity, not to his own actions as a general; and secondly, to the arrival of Blücher, to whom more credit for the victory should be given than to Wellington, as he deserves more recognition as a general; because even though he was defeated the day before, he rallied his troops and got them into action in the evening. However, I believe," Napoleon continued, "that Wellington is a man of great resolve. The glory of such a victory is significant; but from a historian's perspective, his military reputation won’t benefit from it."







      "I always had a high opinion of your seamen," said Napoleon one day to
      O'Meara, in a conversation arising out of the expedition to Algiers. "When
      I was returning from Holland along with the Empress Maria Louisa we
      stopped to rest at Givet. During the night a violent storm of wind and
      rain came on, which swelled the Meuse so much that the bridge of boats
      over it was carried away. I was very anxious to depart, and ordered all
      the boatmen in the place to be assembled that I might be enabled to cross
      the river. They said that the waters were so high that it would be
      impossible to pass before two or three days. I questioned some of them,
      and soon discovered that they were fresh-water seamen. I then recollected
      that there were English prisoners in the barracks, and ordered that some
      of the oldest and best seamen among them should be brought before me to
      the banks of the river. The waters were very high, and the current rapid
      and dangerous. I asked them if they could join a number of boats together
      so that I might pass over. They answered that it was possible, but
      hazardous. I desired them to set about it instantly. In the course of a
      few hours they succeeded in effecting what the others had pronounced to be
      impossible, and I crossed before the evening was over. I ordered those who
      had worked at it to receive a sum of money each, a suit of clothes, and
      their liberty. Marchand was with me at the time."
    
"I’ve always thought highly of your sailors," Napoleon told O'Meara one day during a conversation about the expedition to Algiers. "When I was returning from Holland with Empress Maria Louisa, we stopped to rest in Givet. That night, a fierce storm rolled in, flooding the Meuse so much that the boat bridge was swept away. I was eager to leave and ordered all the boatmen in the area to gather so I could cross the river. They told me the waters were too high to cross for two or three days. I questioned a few of them and quickly realized they were fresh-water sailors. I then remembered there were English prisoners in the barracks and ordered some of the oldest and best sailors among them to be brought to the riverbank. The waters were very high, and the current was fast and dangerous. I asked if they could tie several boats together so I could cross. They said it was possible but risky. I urged them to get started right away. In just a few hours, they accomplished what others had deemed impossible, and I crossed before the evening was over. I arranged for those who helped to receive some money, a set of clothes, and their freedom. Marchand was with me at the time."







      In December 1816 Las Cases was compelled to leave St. Helena. He had
      written a letter to Lucien Bonaparte, and entrusted it to a mulatto
      servant to be forwarded to Europe. He was detected; and as he was thus
      endeavouring to carry on (contrary to the regulations of the island) a
      clandestine correspondence with Europe, Las Cases and his son were sent
      off, first to the Cape and then to England, where they were only allowed
      to land to be sent to Dover and shipped off to Ostend.
    
In December 1816, Las Cases was forced to leave St. Helena. He had written a letter to Lucien Bonaparte and handed it to a mixed-race servant to be sent to Europe. He was caught, and since he was trying to maintain (against the island's rules) a secret correspondence with Europe, Las Cases and his son were sent off first to the Cape and then to England, where they were only permitted to land to be sent to Dover and shipped off to Ostend.







      Not long after their arrival at St. Helena, Madame Bertrand gave birth to
      a son, and when Napoleon went to visit her she said, "I have the honour of
      presenting to your Majesty the first French subject who has entered
      Longwood without the permission of Lord Bathurst."
    
Not long after they arrived at St. Helena, Madame Bertrand gave birth to a son, and when Napoleon went to visit her, she said, "I have the honor of introducing to your Majesty the first French citizen who has entered Longwood without Lord Bathurst's permission."







      It has been generally supposed that Napoleon was a believer in the
      doctrine of predestination. The following conversation with Las Cases
      clearly decides that point. "Pray," said he, "am I not thought to be given
      to a belief in predestination?"—"Yes, Sire; at least by many
      people."—"Well, well! let them say what they please, one may
      sometimes be tempted to set a part, and it may occasionally be useful. But
      what are men? How much easier is it to occupy their attention and to
      strike their imaginations by absurdities than by rational ideas! But can a
      man of sound sense listen for one moment to such a doctrine? Either
      predestination admits the existence of free-will, or it rejects it. If it
      admits it, what kind of predetermined result can that be which a simple
      resolution, a step, a word, may alter or modify ad infinitum? If
      predestination, on the contrary, rejects the existence of free-will it is
      quite another question; in that case a child need only be thrown into its
      cradle as soon as it is born, there is no necessity for bestowing the
      least care upon it, for if it be irrevocably decreed that it is to live,
      it will grow though no food should be given to it. You see that such a
      doctrine cannot be maintained; predestination is but a word without
      meaning. The Turks themselves, the professors of predestination, are not
      convinced of the doctrine, for in that case medicine would not exist in
      Turkey, and a man residing in a third floor would not take the trouble of
      going down stairs, but would immediately throw himself out of the window.
      You see to what a string of absurdities that will lead?"
    
It has generally been thought that Napoleon believed in the idea of predestination. The following conversation with Las Cases makes that clear. "Please," he asked, "am I really thought to believe in predestination?"—"Yes, Sire; at least by many people."—"Well! Let them say what they want. Sometimes it can be tempting to believe in it, and it might even be useful on occasion. But what are people? It's so much easier to capture their attention and stir their imaginations with nonsense rather than with rational ideas! But can a sensible person entertain that idea for even a moment? Either predestination allows for free will, or it doesn't. If it allows it, what kind of predetermined outcome can that be if a simple decision, a step, or a word can change everything infinitely? If, on the other hand, predestination denies free will, that's a whole different issue; in that case, a child could be just tossed into its crib right after birth without any care, because if it's already decided that it will live, then it will grow without any food. You see that such a doctrine can't hold up; predestination is just a meaningless term. Even the Turks, who profess predestination, aren't truly convinced of it, otherwise there would be no medicine in Turkey, and someone living on the third floor wouldn't bother to walk downstairs but would just jump out the window. You see where that kind of thinking leads?"







      The following traits are characteristic of the man. In the common
      intercourse of life, and his familiar conversation, Napoleon mutilated the
      names most familiar to him, even French names; yet this would not have
      occurred on any public occasion. He has been heard many times during his
      walks to repeat the celebrated speech of Augustus in Corneille's tragedy,
      and he has never missed saying, "Take a seat, Sylla," instead of Cinna. He
      would frequently create names according to his fancy, and when he had once
      adopted them they remained fixed in his mind, although they were
      pronounced properly a hundred times a day in his hearing; but he would
      have been struck if others had used them as he had altered them. It was
      the same thing with respect to orthography; in general he did not attend
      to it, yet if the copies which were made contained any faults of spelling
      he would have complained of it. One day Napoleon said to Las Cases, "Your
      orthography is not correct, is it?" This question gave occasion to a
      sarcastic smile from a person who stood near, who thought it was meant to
      convey a reproach. The Emperor, who saw this, continued, "At least I
      suppose it is not, for a man occupied with important public business, a
      minister, for instance, cannot and need not attend to orthography. His
      ideas must flow faster than his hand can trace them, he has only time to
      dwell upon essentials; he must put words in letters, and phrases in words,
      and let the scribes make it out afterwards." Napoleon indeed left a great
      deal for the copyists to do; he was their torment; his handwriting
      actually resembled hieroglyphics—he often could not decipher it
      himself. Las Cases' son was one day reading to him a chapter of The
      Campaign of Italy; on a sudden he stopped short, unable to make out the
      writing. "The little blockhead," said Napoleon, "cannot read his own
      handwriting."—"It is not mine, Sire."—"And whose, then?"—"Your
      Majesty's."—"How so, you little rogue; do you mean to insult me?"
      The Emperor took the manuscript, tried a long while to read it, and at
      last threw it down, saying, "He is right; I cannot tell myself what is
      written." He has often sent the copyists to Las Cases to read what he had
      himself been unable to decipher.
    
The following traits are typical of the man. In everyday life and casual conversations, Napoleon would often butcher the names he knew best, even French ones; but this wouldn’t happen in public settings. He was frequently heard during his walks reciting the famous speech of Augustus in Corneille's tragedy, and he always said, "Take a seat, Sylla," instead of Cinna. He would often make up names based on his imagination, and once he adopted them, they stuck in his mind, even though they were pronounced correctly hundreds of times a day around him; however, he would be annoyed if others used them as he had changed them. The same went for spelling; generally, he didn’t pay attention to it, but if the copies made contained any spelling mistakes, he would complain. One day Napoleon said to Las Cases, "Your spelling isn’t right, is it?" This question prompted a sarcastic smile from someone nearby, who thought it was a jab at him. The Emperor, noticing this, added, "At least I assume it isn’t, because a man busy with important public affairs, like a minister for example, can’t and shouldn’t worry about spelling. His ideas need to flow faster than he can write them down; he only has time to focus on the essentials; he has to put words into letters and phrases into words, and let the scribes figure it out later." Napoleon really left a lot for the copyists to handle; he was a nightmare for them. His handwriting was practically like hieroglyphics—sometimes he couldn’t even read it himself. One day, Las Cases' son was reading him a chapter from The Campaign of Italy; suddenly he stopped, unable to make out the writing. "The little blockhead," Napoleon said, "can’t read his own handwriting."—"It’s not mine, Sire."—"Then whose is it?"—"Your Majesty's."—"How so, you little rascal; are you trying to insult me?" The Emperor took the manuscript, struggled for a long time to read it, and finally tossed it aside, saying, "He’s right; I can’t even tell what’s written." He often sent the copyists to Las Cases to read what he had been unable to decipher himself.







      We are now approaching the last melancholy epoch of Napoleon's life, when
      he first felt the ravages of that malady which finally put a period to his
      existence. Occasional manifestations of its presence had been exhibited
      for some years, but his usual health always returned after every attack,
      and its fatal nature was not suspected, although Napoleon himself had
      several times said that he should die of a scirrhus in the pylorus, the
      disease which killed his father, and which the physicians of Montpelier
      declared would be hereditary in his family. About the middle of the year
      1818 it was observed that his health grew gradually worse, and it was
      thought proper by O'Meara to report to the Governor the state in which he
      was. Even on these occasions Napoleon seized the opportunity for renewing
      his claim to the title of Emperor. He insisted that the physician should
      not send any bulletin whatever unless he named him in it by his Imperial
      designation. O'Meara explained that the instructions of his Government and
      the orders of Sir Hudson Lowe prohibited him from using the term; but it
      was in vain. After some difficulty it was agreed upon that the word
      "patient" should be used instead of the title of General, which caused so
      much offence, and this substitution got rid of the difficulty.
    
We are now approaching the final, sorrowful phase of Napoleon's life, when he first experienced the effects of the illness that ultimately ended his life. For several years, there had been occasional signs of its presence, but he usually recovered after each episode, and its serious nature was not suspected, even though Napoleon had mentioned several times that he believed he would die from a scirrhus in the pylorus, the same condition that killed his father, and which the doctors in Montpelier warned would be hereditary in his family. By the middle of 1818, it became clear that his health was steadily declining, and O'Meara thought it appropriate to report his condition to the Governor. Even during these moments, Napoleon took the chance to reaffirm his claim to the title of Emperor. He insisted that the doctor must not send any reports unless he referred to him by his imperial title. O'Meara explained that his government's instructions and Sir Hudson Lowe's orders prohibited him from using that term; however, it was to no avail. After some negotiation, they agreed to use the word "patient" instead of the title of General, which had caused so much offense, and this change resolved the issue.







      O'Meara afterwards proposed to call in the assistance of Dr. Baxter, the
      principal medical officer of the island, but this offer Napoleon refused
      at once, alleging that, although "it was true he looked like an honest
      man, he was too much attached to that hangman" (Lows), he also persisted
      in rejecting the aid of medicine, and determined to take no exercise
      out-of-doors as long as he should be subjected to the challenge of
      sentinels. To a representation that his determination might convert a
      curable to a fatal malady, he replied, "I shall at least have the
      consolation that my death will be an eternal dishonour to the English
      nation who sent me to this climate to die under the hands of . . ."
    
O'Meara later suggested bringing in Dr. Baxter, the island's main doctor, but Napoleon refused immediately, claiming that even though "he seemed like an honest man, he was too loyal to that executioner" (Lows). He also continued to reject medical help and decided not to exercise outside as long as he had to face the sentinels. When someone pointed out that his choice might turn a treatable condition into a fatal one, he responded, "At least I will have the consolation that my death will be an eternal disgrace to the English nation that sent me to this climate to die at the hands of . . ."







      An important incident in Napoleon's monotonous life was the removal of
      O'Meara, who had attended him as his physician from the time of his
      arrival on the island. The removal of this gentleman, was occasioned by
      the suspicion of similar conduct to that which brought about the dismissal
      of Las Cases twenty months previously, namely, the carrying on secret
      correspondence with persons out of the island. Napoleon complained
      bitterly of the loss of his medical attendant, though he had most
      assuredly very seldom attended to his advice, and repelled as an insult
      the proffered assistance of Dr. Baxter, insinuating that the Governor
      wished to have his life in his power. Some time after Dr. Stokes, a naval
      surgeon, was called in, but withdrawn and eventually tried by
      court-martial for furnishing information to the French at Longwood. After
      this Napoleon expressed his determination to admit no more visits from any
      English physician whatever, and Cardinal Fesch was requested by the
      British Ministry to select some physician of reputation in Italy who
      should be sent to St. Helena to attend on Napoleon. The choice fell on Dr.
      Antommarchi, a young surgeon, who was accordingly sent to St. Helena in
      company with two Catholic priests, the Abbes Buonavita and Vignale, and
      two domestics, in compliance with the wish of Napoleon to that effect. The
      party reached the island on 10th September 1819.
    
An important event in Napoleon's otherwise dull life was the removal of O'Meara, who had been his doctor since he arrived on the island. O'Meara was removed due to suspicions of similar behavior that had led to Las Cases' dismissal twenty months earlier, specifically the secret correspondence with people outside the island. Napoleon was very upset about losing his doctor, even though he rarely followed his advice and dismissed the help offered by Dr. Baxter, suggesting that the Governor wanted to control his life. Later, Dr. Stokes, a naval surgeon, was called in but was withdrawn and ultimately tried by court-martial for providing information to the French at Longwood. After this, Napoleon decided he would not allow any more visits from English doctors. The British Ministry asked Cardinal Fesch to find a reputable physician from Italy to send to St. Helena to care for Napoleon. They chose Dr. Antommarchi, a young surgeon, who was sent to St. Helena along with two Catholic priests, the Abbes Buonavita and Vignale, and two attendants, following Napoleon's request. The group arrived on the island on September 10, 1819.







      On his first visit the Emperor overwhelmed Antommarchi with questions
      concerning his mother and family, the Princess Julie (wife of Joseph), and
      Las Cases, whom Antommarchi had seen in passing through Frankfort,
      expatiated with satisfaction on the retreat which he had at one time
      meditated in Corsica, entered into some discussions with the doctor on his
      profession, and then directed his attention to the details of his
      disorder. While he examined the symptoms the Emperor continued his
      remarks. They were sometimes serious, sometimes lively; kindness,
      indignation, gaiety, were expressed by turns in his words and in his
      countenance. "Well, doctor!" he exclaimed, "what is your opinion? Am I to
      trouble much longer the digestion of Kings?"—"You will survive them,
      Sire."—"Aye, I believe you; they will not be able to subject to the
      ban of Europe the fame of our victories, it will traverse ages, it will
      proclaim the conquerors and the conquered, those who were generous and
      those who were not so; posterity will judge, I do not dread its decision."—"This
      after-life belongs to you of right. Your name will never be repeated with
      admiration without recalling those inglorious warriors so basely leagued
      against a single man. But you are not near your end, you have yet a long
      career to run."—"No, Doctor! I cannot hold out long under this
      frightful climate."—"Your excellent constitution is proof against
      its pernicious effects."—"It once did not yield to the strength of
      mind with which nature has endowed me, but the transition from a life of
      action to a complete seclusion has ruined all. I have grown fat, my energy
      is gone, the bow is unstrung." Antommarchi did not try to combat an
      opinion but too well-founded, but diverted the conversation to another
      subject. "I resign myself," said Napoleon, "to your direction. Let
      medicine give the order, I submit to its decisions. I entrust my health to
      your care. I owe you the detail of the habits I have acquired, of the
      affections to which I am subject.
    
On his first visit, the Emperor bombarded Antommarchi with questions about his mother and family, the Princess Julie (who was Joseph's wife), and Las Cases, whom Antommarchi had briefly encountered in Frankfort. He spoke with satisfaction about the retreat he had once considered in Corsica, discussed his profession with the doctor, and then shifted his focus to the specifics of his illness. While he examined the symptoms, the Emperor kept talking. His comments were sometimes serious and at other times lively; kindness, anger, and cheerfulness appeared in his words and expressions. "Well, doctor!" he exclaimed, "what do you think? Am I going to keep bothering the digestion of kings much longer?"—"You will outlast them, Sire."—"Yes, I believe you; they won't be able to erase the glory of our victories from history, it will last through the ages, it will tell of the conquerors and the conquered, those who were noble and those who were not; future generations will judge, and I’m not afraid of their verdict."—"This legacy rightfully belongs to you. Your name will never be mentioned with admiration without reminding people of those shameless warriors who banded together against one man. But you're not close to death yet; you still have a long way to go."—"No, Doctor! I can't last much longer in this awful climate."—"Your strong constitution is resistant to its harmful effects."—"It didn’t used to succumb to the mental strength that nature gave me, but the shift from an active life to complete isolation has ruined everything. I've gained weight, my energy is gone, the bow is unstrung." Antommarchi didn't argue with an opinion that was far too valid and changed the subject. "I’ll follow your guidance," said Napoleon. "Let medicine take the lead; I accept its decisions. I entrust my health to your care. I need to share the details of the habits I've developed and the issues I'm dealing with."







      "The hours at which I obey the injunctions of nature are in general
      extremely irregular. I sleep, I eat according to circumstances or the
      situation in which I am placed; my sleep is ordinarily sound and tranquil.
      If pain or any accident interrupt it I jump out of bed, call for a light,
      walk, set to work, and fix my attention on some subject; sometimes I
      remain in the dark, change my apartment, lie down in another bed, or
      stretch myself on the sofa. I rise at two, three, or four in the morning;
      I call for some one to keep me company, amuse myself with recollections or
      business, and wait for the return of day. I go out as soon as dawn
      appears, take a stroll, and when the sun shows itself I reenter and go to
      bed again, where I remain a longer or shorter time, according as the day
      promises to turn out. If it is bad, and I feel irritation and uneasiness,
      I have recourse to the method I have just mentioned. I change my posture,
      pass from my bed to the sofa, from the sofa to the bed, seek and find a
      degree of freshness. I do not describe to you my morning costume; it has
      nothing to do with the sufferings I endure, and besides, I do not wish to
      deprive you of the pleasure of your surprise when you see it. These
      ingenious contrivances carry me on to nine or ten o'clock, sometimes
      later. I then order the breakfast to be brought, which I take from time to
      time in my bath, but most frequently in the garden. Either Bertrand or
      Montholon keep me company, often both of them. Physicians have the right
      of regulating the table; it is proper that I should give you an account of
      mine. Well, then, a basin of soup, two plates of meat, one of vegetables,
      a salad when I can take it, compose the whole service; half a bottle of
      claret; which I dilute with a good deal of water, serves me for drink; I
      drink a little of it pure towards the end of the repast. Sometimes, when I
      feel fatigued, I substitute champagne for claret, it is a certain means of
      giving a fillip to the stomach."
    
"The times when I follow my natural instincts are usually very irregular. I sleep and eat depending on my circumstances or situation; my sleep is usually deep and peaceful. If pain or something unexpected disrupts it, I get out of bed, call for a light, walk around, get to work, and focus on something. Sometimes I stay in the dark, change my room, lie down in a different bed, or stretch out on the sofa. I wake up at two, three, or four in the morning; I ask someone to keep me company, entertain myself with memories or tasks, and wait for daybreak. I go out as soon as dawn breaks, take a walk, and when the sun comes up, I come back inside and go to bed again, where I stay for a shorter or longer time, depending on how the day looks. If it’s gloomy and I feel irritated and restless, I use the method I just mentioned. I switch positions, moving from my bed to the sofa, from the sofa to the bed, looking for a bit of coolness. I won’t describe my morning outfit; it doesn't relate to the struggles I endure, and besides, I don’t want to take away your surprise when you see it. These clever arrangements keep me going until nine or ten o'clock, sometimes later. I then request breakfast to be brought, which I occasionally take in the bath, but most often in the garden. Either Bertrand or Montholon keeps me company, often both. Doctors have the authority to regulate the menu, so it's appropriate for me to share mine with you. Well then, my meal consists of a bowl of soup, two plates of meat, one of vegetables, a salad when I can manage it; half a bottle of claret, which I dilute with a good amount of water, serves as my drink; I sip a little of it pure towards the end of the meal. Sometimes, when I feel tired, I swap the claret for champagne, as it's a sure way to give my stomach a boost."







      The doctor having expressed his surprise at Napoleon's temperance, he
      replied, "In my marches with the army of Italy I never failed to put into
      the bow of my saddle a bottle of wine, some bread, and a cold fowl. This
      provision sufficed for the wants of the day,—I may even say that I
      often shared it with others. I thus gained time. I eat fast, masticate
      little, my meals do not consume my hours. This is not what you will
      approve the most, but in my present situation what signifies it? I am
      attacked with a liver complaint, a malady which is general in this
      horrible climate."
    
The doctor expressed surprise at Napoleon's self-control, to which he replied, "During my campaigns with the army in Italy, I always carried a bottle of wine, some bread, and a cold chicken in the saddlebag. That was enough to meet my needs for the day—I often shared it with others. This way, I saved time. I eat quickly, chew little, and my meals don't take up my hours. You may not like that part, but in my current situation, what does it matter? I'm suffering from a liver issue, which is common in this terrible climate."







      Antommarchi, having gained his confidence, now became companion as well as
      physician to the Emperor, and sometimes read with him. He eagerly turned
      over the newspapers when they arrived, and commented freely on their
      contents. "It is amusing," he would say, "to see the sage measures
      resorted to by the Allies to make people forget my tyranny!" On one
      occasion he felt more languid than ordinary, and lighting on the
      'Andromache' of Racine; he took up the book, began to read, but soon let
      it drop from his hands. He had come to the famous passage where the mother
      describes her being allowed to see her son once a day.
    
Antommarchi, having earned the Emperor's trust, became both a friend and a doctor to him, sometimes reading together. He eagerly flipped through the newspapers when they arrived and freely commented on what he saw. "It's funny," he would say, "to watch the clever tactics the Allies use to help people forget my tyranny!" One day, feeling more tired than usual, he picked up Racine's 'Andromache' to read, but soon let it slip from his hands. He had reached the famous part where the mother talks about being allowed to see her son once a day.







      He was moved, covered his face with his hands, and, saying that he was too
      much affected, desired to be left alone. He grew calmer, fell asleep, and
      when he awoke, desired Antommarchi to be called again. He was getting
      ready to shave, and the doctor was curious to witness the operation. He
      was in his shirt, his head uncovered, with two valets at his side, one
      holding the glass and a towel, the other the rest of the apparatus. The
      Emperor spread the soap over one side of his face, put down the brush,
      wiped his hands and mouth, took a razor dipped in hot water and shaved the
      right side with singular dexterity. "Is it done, Noverraz?"—"Yes,
      Sire."—"Well, then, face about. Come, villain, quick, stand still."
      The light fell on the left side, which, after applying the lather, he
      shaved in the same manner and with the same dexterity. He drew his hand
      over his chin. "Raise the glass. Am I quite right?"— "Quite so."—"Not
      a hair has escaped me: what say you?"—"No, Sire," replied the valet
      de chambre. "No! I think I perceive one. Lift up the glass, place it in a
      better light. How, rascal! Flattery? You deceive me at St. Helena? On this
      rock? You, too, are an accomplice." With this he gave them both a box on
      the ear, laughed, and joked in the most pleasant manner possible.
    
He was emotional, covered his face with his hands, and, saying that he was too affected, asked to be left alone. He calmed down, fell asleep, and when he woke up, asked for Antommarchi to be called again. He was getting ready to shave, and the doctor was curious to see the process. He was in his shirt, his head uncovered, with two attendants by his side, one holding a glass and a towel, the other holding the rest of the shaving tools. The Emperor spread soap over one side of his face, set down the brush, wiped his hands and mouth, took a razor dipped in hot water, and shaved the right side with remarkable skill. "Is it done, Noverraz?"—"Yes, Sire."—"Alright then, turn around. Come on, hurry up, and hold still." The light hit the left side, which he shaved in the same way and with the same skill after applying lather. He ran his hand over his chin. "Raise the glass. Am I all set?"—"Absolutely."—"Not a hair has escaped me: what do you think?"—"No, Sire," replied the attendant. "No! I think I can see one. Hold up the glass, shift it into better light. What’s this, you rascal! Flattery? You're deceiving me at St. Helena? On this rock? You're an accomplice too." With that, he playfully slapped them both and laughed, joking in the most cheerful way possible.







      An almost incredible instance of the determination of the exiles to make
      as many enemies as they possibly could was exhibited to Antommarchi on his
      arrival at Longwood. He states that before he was permitted to enter on
      his functions as surgeon he was required to take an oath that he would not
      communicate with the English, and that he would more especially avoid
      giving them the least information respecting the progress of Napoleon's
      disorder. He was not allowed to see his illustrious patient until the oath
      was taken. After exacting such an oath from his physician the attendants
      of Bonaparte had little right to complain, as they did, that the real
      state of his disorder was purposely concealed from the world by the
      English Government. It is more than probable that the constant attempts
      observed to throw mystery and secrecy around them must have tended to
      create the suspicion of escape, and to increase the consequent rigour of
      the regulations maintained by the Governor.
    
An almost unbelievable example of the exiles' determination to make as many enemies as possible was shown to Antommarchi when he arrived at Longwood. He noted that before he could start his job as surgeon, he had to take an oath not to communicate with the English and, specifically, to avoid giving them any information about Napoleon's illness. He wasn't allowed to see his famous patient until he took the oath. After demanding such an oath from his doctor, Bonaparte's attendants had little right to complain, as they did, that the true state of his illness was deliberately kept secret from the world by the English Government. It's very likely that the constant efforts to create mystery and secrecy around them contributed to the suspicion of escape and heightened the strictness of the regulations enforced by the Governor.







      Soon after the arrival of the priests Napoleon determined, we may suppose
      partly in jest, to elevate one of them to the dignity of bishop, and he
      chose for a diocese the Jumna. "The last box brought from Europe had been
      broken open," says Antommarchi; "it contained the vases and church
      ornaments. "Stop," said Napoleon, "this is the property of St. Peter; have
      a care who touches it; send for the abbes—but talking of the abbes,
      do you know that the Cardinal [Fesch] is a poor creature? He sends me
      missionaries and propagandists, as if I were a penitent, and as if a whole
      string of their Eminences had not always attended at my chapel. I will do
      what he ought to have done; I possess the right of investiture, and I
      shall use it." Abbe Buonavita was just entering the room, "I give you the
      episcopal mitre."—"Sire!"—"I restore it to you; you shall wear
      it in spite of the heretics; they will not again take it from you."—
      "But, Sire!"—"I cannot add to it so rich a benefice as that of
      Valencia, which Suchet had given you, but at any rate your see shall be
      secure from the chances of battles. I appoint you Bishop of—let me
      see—of the Jumna. The vast countries through which that river flows
      were on the point of entering into alliance with me—all was in
      readiness, all were going to march. We were about to give the finishing
      blow to England." The speech concluded with an order to Count Montholon to
      procure the necessary dress for the abbe in order to strike with awe all
      the heretics. The upshot of the whole was, that the scarlet and violet
      coloured clothes necessary to furnish the new bishop with the only
      valuable portion of his temporalities, his dress, could not be procured in
      the island, and the abbe remained an abbe in spite of the investiture, and
      the whole farce was forgotten.
    
Soon after the priests arrived, Napoleon decided, we can assume partly in jest, to elevate one of them to the position of bishop, choosing the Jumna as his diocese. "The last box that came from Europe had been opened," Antommarchi says, "and it contained the vases and church decorations." "Wait," Napoleon said, "this belongs to St. Peter; be careful who handles it; call for the abbés—but speaking of the abbés, did you know that Cardinal [Fesch] is a real disappointment? He sends me missionaries and propagandists as if I were a penitent, and as if a whole line of their Eminences hasn’t always attended my chapel. I will do what he should have done; I have the right of investiture, and I’m going to use it." Abbe Buonavita was just entering the room when Napoleon said, "I give you the episcopal mitre." —"Sire!" —"I restore it to you; you’ll wear it despite the heretics; they won’t take it from you again." —"But, Sire!" —"I can’t grant you as rich a benefice as Valencia, which Suchet had given you, but at least your see will be safe from the effects of battle. I appoint you Bishop of—let me think—of the Jumna. The vast regions along that river were on the verge of allying with me—all was set, everyone was ready to march. We were about to deliver the final blow to England." The speech ended with an order to Count Montholon to get the necessary attire for the abbe to intimidate all the heretics. The result was that the scarlet and violet garments required to provide the new bishop with the only valuable part of his authority, his clothing, couldn’t be found on the island, and the abbe remained just an abbe despite the investiture, and the whole charade was forgotten.







      We occasionally see the Exile in better moods, when he listened to the
      voice of reason, and thought less of the annoyances inseparable from the
      state to which his ambition, or as he himself always averred, his destiny,
      had reduced him. He had for a long time debarred himself from all
      exercise, having, as he expressed it, determined not to expose himself to
      the insult of being accompanied on his ride by a British officer; or the
      possibility of being challenged by a sentinel. One day when he complained
      of his inactive life his medical attendant recommended the exercise of
      digging the ground; the idea was instantly seized upon by Napoleon with
      his characteristic ardour. Noverraz, his chasseur, who had been formerly
      accustomed to rural occupations, was honoured with the title of head
      gardener, and under his directions Napoleon proceeded to work with great
      vigour. He sent for Antommarchi to witness his newly acquired dexterity in
      the use of the spade. "Well, Doctor," said he to him, "are you satisfied
      with your patient—is he obedient enough? This is better than your
      pills, Dottoraccio; you shall not physic me any more." At first he soon
      got fatigued, and complained much of the weakness of his body and delicacy
      of his hands; but "never mind," said he, "I have always accustomed my body
      to bend to my will, and I shall bring it to do so now, and inure it to the
      exercise." He soon grew fond of his new employment, and pressed all the
      inhabitants of Longwood into the service. Even the ladies had great
      difficulty to avoid being set to work. He laughed at them, urged them,
      entreated them, and used all his arts of persuasion, particularly with
      Madame Bertrand. He assured her that the exercise of gardening was much
      better than all the doctor's prescriptions—that it was in fact one
      of his prescriptions. But in this instance his eloquence failed in its
      effect, and he was obliged, though with much reluctance, to desist from
      his attempts to make lady gardeners.
    
We occasionally see the Exile in better moods when he listens to reason and thinks less about the annoyances that come with the situation his ambition, or as he always claimed, his destiny, had put him in. He had long forbidden himself any exercise, having decided not to subject himself to the embarrassment of riding with a British officer or facing the chance of being challenged by a guard. One day, when he complained about his inactive life, his doctor suggested he try digging the ground for exercise; he immediately jumped on the idea with his usual enthusiasm. Noverraz, his chasseur, who was previously used to farm work, was appointed as the head gardener, and under his guidance, Napoleon threw himself into the work with great energy. He called for Antommarchi to show off his newly acquired skills with the spade. "Well, Doctor," he said, "are you happy with your patient—am I being good enough? This is better than your pills, Dottoraccio; no more medicine for me." At first, he got tired quickly and complained about his body feeling weak and his hands being delicate; but "never mind," he said, "I've always trained my body to follow my will, and I'll get it to do the same now, and toughen it up for this work." He soon grew to enjoy his new activity and enlisted all the residents of Longwood to join in. Even the ladies found it hard to escape being put to work. He laughed at them, encouraged them, begged them, and used all his persuasive skills, especially with Madame Bertrand. He assured her that gardening was much better than all the doctor's prescriptions—that it was actually one of his prescriptions. But in this case, his charm didn't work, and he had to reluctantly stop trying to turn the ladies into gardeners.







      But in recompense he had willing labourers on the part of the gentlemen.
      Antommarchi says, "The Emperor urged us, excited us, and everything around
      us soon assumed a different aspect. Here was an excavation, there a basin
      or a road. We made alleys, grottoes, cascades; the appearance of the
      ground had now some life and diversity. We planted willows, oaks,
      peach-trees, to give a little shade round the house. Having completed the
      ornamental part of our labours we turned to the useful. We divided the
      ground, we manured it, and sowed it with abundance of beans, peas, and
      every vegetable that grows in the island." In the course of their labours
      they found that a tank would be of great use to hold water, which might be
      brought by pipes from a spring at a distance of 3000 feet.
    
But in return, he had eager workers from among the gentlemen. Antommarchi says, "The Emperor inspired us, motivated us, and everything around us quickly took on a new look. There was an excavation here, a basin or a path there. We created paths, grottos, waterfalls; the landscape now had some life and variety. We planted willows, oaks, and peach trees to provide a bit of shade around the house. Once we finished the decorative part of our work, we focused on the practical. We divided the land, enriched it with fertilizer, and sowed it with plenty of beans, peas, and every vegetable that grows on the island." While they were working, they realized that a water tank would be very useful to hold water, which could be brought by pipes from a spring located 3,000 feet away.







      For this laborious attempt it was absolutely necessary to procure
      additional forces, and a party of Chinese, of whom there are many on the
      island, was engaged to help them. These people were much amused at
      Napoleon's working-dress, which was a jacket and large trousers, with an
      enormous straw hat to shield him from the sun, and sandals. He pitied
      those poor fellows who suffered from the heat of the sun, and made each of
      them a present of a large hat like his own. After much exertion the basin
      was finished, the pipes laid, and the water began to flow into it.
      Napoleon stocked his pond with gold-fish, which he placed in it with his
      own hands. He would remain by the pond for hours together, at a time when
      he was so weak that he could hardly support himself. He would amuse
      himself by following the motion of the fishes, throwing bread to them,
      studying their ways, taking an interest in their loves and their quarrels,
      and endeavouring with anxiety to find out points of resemblance between
      their motives and those of mankind. He often sent for his attendants to
      communicate his remarks to them, and directed their observations to any
      peculiarities he had observed. His favourites at last sickened, they
      struggled, floated on the water, and died one after another. He was deeply
      affected by this, and remarked to Antommarchi, "You see very well that
      there is a fatality attached to me. Everything I love, everything that
      belongs to me, is immediately struck: heaven and mankind unite to
      persecute me." From this time he visited them daily in spite of sickness
      or bad weather, nor did his anxiety diminish until it was discovered that
      a coppery cement, with which the bottom of the basin was plastered, had
      poisoned the water. The fish which were not yet dead were then taken out
      and put into a tub.
    
For this difficult task, it was essential to gather extra help, so a group of Chinese workers, of whom there were many on the island, was recruited to assist. These people found Napoleon's work outfit quite amusing; he wore a jacket and baggy trousers, topped off with a huge straw hat to protect himself from the sun, and sandals. He felt sorry for those poor fellows suffering in the heat, so he gifted each of them a large hat like his. After a lot of hard work, the basin was complete, the pipes were laid, and the water started to flow into it. Napoleon stocked his pond with goldfish, which he placed in the water himself. He would spend hours by the pond, even when he was so weak that he could barely stand. He entertained himself by watching the fish, throwing bread to them, observing their behavior, noticing their romances and conflicts, and anxiously trying to find similarities between their motives and those of humans. He frequently called for his attendants to share his observations and pointed out any peculiarities he had noticed. Eventually, his favorite fish became sick; they struggled, floated on the surface, and died one after another. He was very affected by this and told Antommarchi, "You can see there's a fatality that follows me. Everything I love, everything that belongs to me, is immediately struck: heaven and humanity join forces to persecute me." From that time on, he visited them every day, regardless of his illness or the weather, and his worry didn't lessen until it was discovered that a coppery cement used to plaster the bottom of the basin had poisoned the water. The fish that were still alive were then taken out and placed in a tub.







      Napoleon appears to have taken peculiar interest in observing the
      instincts of animals, and comparing their practices and propensities with
      those of men. A rainy day, during which the digging of the tank could not
      be proceeded with, gave occasion for some observations on the actions of a
      number of ants, which had made a way into his bedroom, climbed upon a
      table on which some sugar usually stood, and taken possession of the
      sugar-basin. He would not allow the industrious little insects to be
      disturbed in their plans; but he now and then moved the sugar, followed
      their manoeuvres, and admired the activity and industry they displayed
      until they found it again; this they had been sometimes even two or three
      days in effecting, though they always succeeded at last. He then
      surrounded the basin with water, but the ants still reached it; he finally
      employed vinegar, and the insects were unable to get through the new
      obstacle.
    
Napoleon seemed to have a unique interest in observing the instincts of animals and comparing their behaviors and tendencies with those of humans. One rainy day, when the digging of the tank couldn't continue, he took the opportunity to watch a group of ants that had entered his bedroom, climbed onto a table where some sugar usually sat, and taken over the sugar bowl. He didn't want to interrupt the hardworking little insects, but occasionally he moved the sugar, followed their movements, and admired their activity and determination until they found it again; sometimes it took them two or three days to do so, but they always managed in the end. He then surrounded the basin with water, yet the ants still reached it; finally, he used vinegar, and the insects were unable to get past the new barrier.







      But the slight activity of mind that now remained to him was soon to be
      exchanged for the languor and gloom of sickness, with but few intervals
      between positive suffering and the most distressing lowness of spirits.
      Towards the end of the year 1820 he walked with difficulty, and required
      assistance even to reach a chair in his garden. He became nearly incapable
      of the slightest action; his legs swelled; the pains in his side and back
      were increased; he was troubled with nausea, profuse sweats, loss of
      appetite, and was subject to frequent faintings. "Here I am, Doctor," said
      he one day, "at my last cast. No more energy and strength left: I bend
      under the load . . . I am going. I feel that my hour is come."
    
But the little bit of mental activity he had left was soon replaced by the fatigue and sadness of illness, with only brief moments between actual pain and deep feelings of hopelessness. By the end of 1820, he had trouble walking and needed help just to get to a chair in his garden. He became almost unable to do anything; his legs were swollen, the pain in his side and back worsened, he struggled with nausea, excessive sweating, and loss of appetite, and he often fainted. "Here I am, Doctor," he said one day, "at my last effort. No more energy or strength left: I’m buckling under the weight... I’m going. I feel that my time has come."







      Some days after, as he lay on his couch, he feelingly expressed to
      Antommarchi the vast change which had taken place within him. He recalled
      for a few moments the vivid recollection of past times, and compared his
      former energy with the weakness which he was then sinking under.
    
Some days later, as he lay on his couch, he emotionally shared with Antommarchi the significant change that had occurred within him. He briefly reflected on his vivid memories of the past and compared his former energy with the weakness he was currently experiencing.







      The news of the death of his sister Elisa also affected him deeply. After
      a struggle with his feelings, which had nearly overpowered him, he rose,
      supported himself on Antommarchi's arm; and regarding him steadfastly,
      said, "Well, Doctor! you see Elisa has just shown me the way. Death, which
      seemed to have forgotten my family, has begun to strike it; my turn cannot
      be far off. What think you?"—"Your Majesty is in no danger: you are
      still reserved for some glorious enterprise."— "Ah, Doctor! I have
      neither strength nor activity nor energy; I am no longer Napoleon. You
      strive in vain to give me hopes, to recall life ready to expire. Your care
      can do nothing in spite of fate: it is immovable: there is no appeal from
      its decisions. The next person of our family who will follow Elisa to the
      tomb is that great Napoleon who hardly exists, who bends under the yoke,
      and who still, nevertheless keeps Europe in alarm. Behold, my good friend,
      how I look on my situation! As for me, all is over: I repeat it to you, my
      days will soon close on this miserable rock."—"We returned," says
      Antommarchi, "into his chamber. Napoleon lay down' in bed. 'Close my
      windows,' he said; leave me to myself; I will send for you by-and-by. What
      a delightful thing rest is! I would not exchange it for all the thrones in
      the world! What an alteration! How I am fallen! I, whose activity was
      boundless, whose mind never slumbered, am now plunged into a lethargic
      stupor, so that it requires an effort even to raise my eyelids. I
      sometimes dictated to four or five secretaries, who wrote as fast as words
      could be uttered, but then I was NAPOLEON—now I am no longer
      anything. My strength—my faculties forsake me. I do not live—I
      merely exist.'"
    
The news of his sister Elisa's death hit him hard. After struggling with his emotions, which nearly overwhelmed him, he stood up, leaned on Antommarchi's arm, and looked at him intently, saying, "Well, Doctor! You see, Elisa has just shown me the way. Death, which seemed to have forgotten my family, is starting to take us; my time can't be far away. What do you think?"—"Your Majesty is in no danger: you are still destined for some great achievement."—"Ah, Doctor! I have no strength, no energy, no drive; I'm no longer Napoleon. You're wasting your efforts trying to give me hope, trying to bring back a life that's about to end. Your care can do nothing against fate: it is unchangeable; there's no arguing with its decisions. The next member of my family to join Elisa in the grave will be that great Napoleon who barely exists anymore, who is burdened by defeat and still manages to keep Europe on edge. Look, my good friend, at how I see my situation! For me, it's all over: I’ll say it again, my days will soon end on this miserable rock."—"We went back," says Antommarchi, "into his room. Napoleon lay down in bed. ‘Close my windows,’ he said; leave me alone; I'll call for you later. Rest is such a wonderful thing! I wouldn’t trade it for all the thrones in the world! What a change! How far I’ve fallen! I, whose energy was limitless, whose mind never rested, am now caught in a deep stupor, to the point where it takes effort just to lift my eyelids. I used to dictate to four or five secretaries, who wrote as fast as I could talk, but then I was NAPOLEON—now I am nothing. My strength—my abilities are leaving me. I don’t live—I just exist.'"







      From this period the existence of Napoleon was evidently drawing to a
      close, his days were counted. Whole hours, and even days, were either
      passed in gloomy silence or spent in pain, accompanied by distressing
      coughs, and all the melancholy signs of the approach of death. He made a
      last effort to ride a few miles round Longwood on the 22d of January 1821,
      but it exhausted his strength, and from that time his only exercise was in
      the calash. Even that slight motion soon became too fatiguing.
    
From this time on, it was clear that Napoleon’s life was coming to an end; his days were numbered. He spent hours and even days in heavy silence or in pain, troubled by persistent coughs and all the sad signals of impending death. He made one last attempt to ride a few miles around Longwood on January 22, 1821, but it drained his energy, and after that, his only form of exercise was in the carriage. Even that little movement soon became too tiring.







      He now kept his room, and no longer stirred out. His disorder and his
      weakness increased upon him. He still was able to eat something, but very
      little, and with a worse appetite than ever. "Ah! doctor," he exclaimed,
      "how I suffer! Why did the cannon-balls spare me only to die in this
      deplorable manner? I that was so active, so alert, can now scarcely raise
      my eyelids!"
    
He now stayed in his room and no longer went out. His illness and weakness continued to worsen. He could still eat a little, but his appetite was worse than ever. "Ah! Doctor," he exclaimed, "how I suffer! Why did the cannonballs spare me only to die in this miserable way? I, who was so active and alert, can now barely lift my eyelids!"







      His last airing was on the 17th of March. The disease increased, and
      Antommarchi, who was much alarmed, obtained with some difficulty
      permission to see an English physician. He held a consultation, on the
      26th of March, with Dr. Arnott of the 20th Regiment; but Napoleon still
      refused to take medicine, and often repeated his favourite saying:
      "Everything that must happen is written down, our hour is marked, and it
      is not in our power to take from time a portion which nature refuses us."
      He continued to grow worse, and at last consented to see Dr. Arnott, whose
      first visit was on the 1st of April. He was introduced into the chamber of
      the patient, which was darkened, and into which Napoleon did not suffer
      any light to be brought, examined his pulse and the other symptoms, and
      was requested to repeat his visit the next day. Napoleon was now within a
      month of his death, and although he occasionally spoke with the eloquence
      and vehemence he had so often exhibited, his mind was evidently giving
      way. The reported appearance of a comet was taken as a token of his death.
      He was excited, and exclaimed with emotion, "A comet! that was the
      precursor of the death of Caesar."
    
His last appearance was on March 17th. The illness worsened, and Antommarchi, who was quite worried, managed to get permission to consult an English doctor. He had a meeting on March 26th with Dr. Arnott from the 20th Regiment; however, Napoleon still refused to take any medicine and often repeated his favorite saying: "Everything that must happen is written down, our hour is marked, and we can't take from time what nature won't give us." He continued to decline and eventually agreed to see Dr. Arnott, whose first visit was on April 1st. He was brought into the patient's darkened room, where Napoleon wouldn’t allow any light, examined his pulse and other symptoms, and was asked to return the next day. Napoleon was now just a month away from death, and even though he sometimes spoke with the passion and intensity he was known for, it was clear his mind was starting to fail. The reported sighting of a comet was seen as an omen of his death. He was agitated and exclaimed with emotion, "A comet! That was the sign of Caesar's death."







      On the 3d of April the symptoms of the disorder had become so alarming
      that Antommarchi informed Bertrand and Montholon he thought Napoleon's
      danger imminent, and that Napoleon ought to take steps to put his affairs
      in order. He was now attacked by fever and by violent thirst, which often
      interrupted his sleep in the night. On the 14th Napoleon found himself in
      better spirits, and talked with Dr. Arnott on the merits of Marlborough,
      whose Campaigns he desired him to present to the 20th Regiment, learning
      that they did not, possess a copy in their library.
    
On April 3rd, the symptoms of the illness became so alarming that Antommarchi told Bertrand and Montholon he thought Napoleon was in imminent danger and that he should take steps to organize his affairs. He was now suffering from fever and intense thirst, which often disrupted his sleep at night. On the 14th, Napoleon felt more upbeat and discussed with Dr. Arnott the merits of Marlborough, asking him to present Marlborough's Campaigns to the 20th Regiment, learning that they didn't have a copy in their library.







      On the 15th of April Napoleon's doors were closed to all but Montholon and
      Marchand, and it appeared that he had been making his Will. On the 19th he
      was better, was free from pain, sat up, and ate a little. He was in good
      spirits, and wished them to read to him. As General Montholon with the
      others expressed his satisfaction at this improvement he smiled gently,
      and said, "You deceive yourselves, my friends: I am, it is true, somewhat
      better, but I feel no less that my end draws near. When I am dead you will
      have the agreeable consolation of returning to Europe. One will meet his
      relations, another his friends; and as for me, I shall behold my brave
      companions-in-arms in the Elysian Fields. Yes," he went on, raising his
      voice, "Kléber, Desaix, Bessières, Duroc, Ney, Murat, Massena, Berthier,
      all will come to greet me: they will talk to me of what we have done
      together. I will recount to them the latest events of my life. On seeing
      me they will become once more intoxicated with enthusiasm and glory. We
      will discourse of our wars with the Scipios, Hannibal, Caesar, and
      Frederick—there will be a satisfaction in that: unless," he added,
      laughing bitterly, "they should be alarmed below to see so many warriors
      assembled together!"
    
On April 15th, Napoleon shut his doors to everyone except Montholon and Marchand, and it seemed he had been preparing his Will. By the 19th, he was feeling better, pain-free, sitting up, and eating a little. He was in good spirits and wanted them to read to him. When General Montholon and the others expressed their pleasure at this improvement, he smiled gently and said, "You’re fooling yourselves, my friends: it's true I'm a bit better, but I still feel that my end is near. When I’m dead, you’ll have the comforting thought of going back to Europe. Some of you will see your relatives, others their friends; as for me, I’ll be with my brave fellow soldiers in the Elysian Fields. Yes," he continued, raising his voice, "Kléber, Desaix, Bessières, Duroc, Ney, Murat, Massena, Berthier, they'll all come to greet me: they'll talk to me about what we've done together. I’ll tell them the latest events of my life. When they see me, they'll be filled once again with enthusiasm and glory. We’ll talk about our wars with the Scipios, Hannibal, Caesar, and Frederick—there will be satisfaction in that: unless," he added, laughing bitterly, "they get scared below to see so many warriors gathered together!"







      He addressed Dr. Arnott, who came in while he was speaking, on the
      treatment he had received from England said that she had violated every
      sacred right in making him prisoner, that he should have been much better
      treated in Russia, Austria, or even Prussia; that he was sent to the
      horrible rock of St. Helena on purpose to die; that he had been purposely
      placed on the most uninhabitable spot of that inhospitable island, and
      kept six years a close prisoner, and that Sir Hudson Lowe was his
      executioner. He concluded with these words: "You will end like the proud
      republic of Venice; and I, dying upon this dreary rock, away from those I
      hold dear, and deprived of everything, bequeath the opprobrium and horror
      of my death to the reigning family of England."
    
He spoke to Dr. Arnott, who entered while he was talking, about the treatment he received from England. He said that she had violated every sacred right by making him a prisoner and that he would have been treated much better in Russia, Austria, or even Prussia. He claimed he was sent to the dreadful island of St. Helena to die on purpose, that he had been deliberately placed on the most uninhabitable part of that inhospitable island, and that he had spent six years as a close prisoner, with Sir Hudson Lowe as his executioner. He ended with these words: "You will end up like the proud republic of Venice; and I, dying on this lonely rock, far from those I love and deprived of everything, leave the shame and horror of my death to the reigning family of England."







      On the 21st Napoleon gave directions to the priest who was in attendance
      as to the manner in which he would be placed to lie in state after his
      death; and finding his religious attendant had never officiated in such a
      solemnity he gave the most minute instructions for the mode of conducting
      it. He afterwards declared that he would die, as he was born a Catholic,
      and desired that mass should be said by his body, and the customary
      ceremonies should be performed every day until his burial. The expression
      of his face was earnest and convulsive; he saw Antommarchi watching the
      contractions which he underwent, when his eye caught some indication that
      displeased him. "You are above these weaknesses; but what would you have?
      I am neither philosopher nor physician. I believe in God; I am of the
      religion of my fathers; every one cannot be an atheist who pleases." Then
      turning to the priest—"I was born in the Catholic religion. I wish
      to fulfil the duties which it imposes, and to receive the succour which it
      administers. You will say mass every day in the adjoining chapel, and you
      will expose the Holy Sacrament for forty hours. After I am dead you will
      place your altar at my head in the funeral chamber; you will continue to
      celebrate mass, and perform all the customary ceremonies; you will not
      cease till I am laid in the ground." The Abbe (Vignale) withdrew; Napoleon
      reproved his fellow-countryman for his supposed incredulity. "Can you
      carry it to this point? Can you disbelieve in God? Everything proclaims
      His existence; and, besides, the greatest minds have thought so."—"But,
      Sire, I have never called it in question. I was attending to the progress
      of the fever: your Majesty fancied you saw in my features an expression
      which they had not."— "You are a physician, Doctor," he replied
      laughingly; "these folks," he added, half to himself, "are conversant only
      with matter; they will believe in nothing beyond."
    
On the 21st, Napoleon instructed the attending priest on how he wanted to be laid to rest after his death. Since the priest had never officiated in such a solemn occasion, Napoleon gave detailed instructions on how to conduct it. He later stated that he would die as he was born—a Catholic—and wished for mass to be held by his body, with the usual ceremonies performed daily until his burial. His expression was serious and tense; he noticed Antommarchi observing his facial contortions, and when he caught sight of something that displeased him, he said, "You are above these weaknesses; but what can I say? I'm neither a philosopher nor a physician. I believe in God; I am of my ancestors' faith; not everyone can just choose to be an atheist." Then turning to the priest, he continued, "I was born into the Catholic faith. I want to fulfill its obligations and receive the comfort it provides. You will say mass every day in the nearby chapel, and you will keep the Holy Sacrament exposed for forty hours. After I die, position your altar at my head in the funeral chamber; continue to hold mass and perform all the traditional rites; don’t stop until I am buried." The Abbe (Vignale) left; Napoleon criticized his fellow countryman for what he thought was disbelief. "Can you really question it? Can you not believe in God? Everything indicates His existence, and the greatest minds have believed so." — "But, Sire, I’ve never doubted it. I was focused on the fever’s progression; your Majesty thought you saw an expression on my face that wasn’t there." — "You are a physician, Doctor," he responded with a laugh; "these people," he added, half to himself, "only deal with the material; they won't believe in anything beyond."







      In the afternoon of the 25th he was better; but being left alone, a sudden
      fancy possessed him to eat. He called for fruits, wine, tried a biscuit,
      then swallowed some champagne, seized a bunch of grapes, and burst into a
      fit of laughter as soon as he saw Antommarchi return. The physician
      ordered away the dessert, and found fault with the maitre d'hotel; but the
      mischief was done, the fever returned and became violent. The Emperor was
      now on his death-bed, but he testified concern for every one. He asked
      Antommarchi if 500 guineas would satisfy the English physician, and if he
      himself would like to serve Maria Louisa in quality of a physician? "She
      is my wife, the first Princess in Europe, and after me you should serve no
      one else." Antommarchi expressed his acknowledgments. The fever continued
      unabated, with violent thirst and cold in the feet. On the 27th he
      determined to remove from the small chamber into the salon. They were
      preparing to carry him. "No," he said, "not until I am dead; for the
      present it will be sufficient if you support me."
    
In the afternoon of the 25th, he felt better; but when he was left alone, a sudden impulse hit him to eat. He asked for fruits, wine, tried a biscuit, then downed some champagne, grabbed a bunch of grapes, and burst into laughter as soon as he saw Antommarchi return. The doctor ordered the dessert to be taken away and criticized the maitre d'hôtel; but the damage was done, the fever returned, and it became severe. The Emperor was now on his deathbed, yet he showed concern for everyone. He asked Antommarchi if 500 guineas would be enough for the English doctor, and if he would like to serve Maria Louisa as a physician? "She is my wife, the first Princess in Europe, and after me, you should serve no one else." Antommarchi expressed his gratitude. The fever continued without relief, accompanied by intense thirst and cold feet. On the 27th, he decided to move from the small room into the salon. They were getting ready to carry him. "No," he said, "not until I’m dead; for now, it’s enough if you support me."







      Between the 27th and 28th the Emperor passed a very bad night; the fever
      increased, coldness spread over his limbs, his strength was quite gone. He
      spoke a few words of encouragement to Antommarchi; then in a tone of
      perfect calmness and composure he delivered to him the following
      instructions: "After my death, which cannot be far off, I wish you to open
      my body: I wish also, nay, I require, that you will not suffer any English
      physician to touch me. If, however, you find it indispensable to have some
      one to assist you, Dr. Arnott is the only one I am willing you should
      employ. I am desirous, further, that you should take out my heart, that
      you put it in spirits of wine, and that you carry it to Parma to my dear
      Maria Louisa: you will tell her how tenderly I have loved her, that I have
      never ceased to love her; and you will report to her all that you have
      witnessed, all that relates to my situation and my death. I recommend you,
      above all, carefully to examine my stomach, to make an exact detailed
      report of it, which you will convey to my son. The vomitings which succeed
      each other without intermission lead me to suppose that the stomach is the
      one of my organs which is the most deranged, and I am inclined to believe
      that it is affected with the disease which conducted my father to the
      grave,—I mean a cancer in the lower stomach. What think you?" His
      physician hesitating, he continued—"I have not doubted this since I
      found the sickness become frequent and obstinate. It is nevertheless well
      worthy of remark that I have always had a stomach of iron, that I have
      felt no inconvenience from this organ till latterly, and that whereas my
      father was fond of high-seasoned dishes and spirituous liquors, I have
      never been able to make use of them. Be it as it may, I entreat, I charge
      you to neglect nothing in such an examination, in order that when you see
      my son you may communicate the result of your observations to him, and
      point out the most suitable remedies. When I am no more you will repair to
      Rome; you will find out my mother and my family. You will give them an
      account of all you have observed relative to my situation, my disorder,
      and my death on this remote and miserable rock; you will tell them that
      the great Napoleon expired in the most deplorable state, wanting
      everything, abandoned to himself and his glory." It was ten in the
      forenoon; after this the fever abated, and he fell into a sort of doze.
    
Between the 27th and 28th, the Emperor had a very rough night; his fever worsened, he felt cold all over, and he was completely drained of strength. He spoke a few words of encouragement to Antommarchi, then calmly and composedly gave him the following instructions: "After I die, which should be soon, I want you to perform an autopsy. I also insist that no English doctors touch me. However, if you feel you need assistance, only Dr. Arnott is someone I would approve of. Additionally, I want you to remove my heart, put it in alcohol, and take it to Parma for my dear Maria Louisa. Tell her how deeply I have loved her and that I have never stopped loving her; share everything you've seen related to my condition and my death. I recommend that you carefully examine my stomach and provide a detailed report to my son. The continuous vomiting makes me think that my stomach is the most affected organ, and I suspect it has the same illness that killed my father—a cancer in the lower stomach. What do you think?" His physician hesitated, and he continued, "I have suspected this ever since the sickness became frequent and severe. It's worth noting that I've always had a strong stomach, I've felt no issues until recently, and while my father enjoyed spicy foods and strong drinks, I've never been able to tolerate them. Regardless, I urge you to leave no stone unturned in your examination so that when you see my son, you can share your findings with him and suggest the best treatments. After I’m gone, head to Rome; find my mother and family. Tell them everything you've observed about my condition, my illness, and my death on this remote and miserable rock. Tell them that the great Napoleon died in a deplorable state, lacking everything, abandoned to himself and his glory." It was ten in the morning; after this, the fever subsided, and he fell into a sort of doze.







      The Emperor passed a very bad night, and could not sleep. He grew
      light-headed and talked incoherently; still the fever had abated in its
      violence. Towards morning the hiccough began to torment him, the fever
      increased, and he became quite delirious. He spoke of his complaint, and
      called upon Baxter (the Governor's physician) to appear, to come and see
      the truth of his reports. Then all at once fancying O'Meara present, he
      imagined a dialogue between them, throwing a weight of odium on the
      English policy. The fever having subsided, his hearing became distinct; he
      grew calm, and entered into some further conversation on what was to be
      done after his death. He felt thirsty, and drank a large quantity of cold
      water. "If fate should determine that I shall recover, I would raise a
      monument on the spot where this water gushes out: I would crown the
      fountain in memory of the comfort which it has afforded me. If I die, and
      they should not proscribe my remains as they have proscribed my person, I
      should desire to be buried with my ancestors in the cathedral of Ajaccio,
      in Corsica. But if I am not allowed to repose where I was born, why, then,
      let them bury me at the spot where this fine and refreshing water flows."
      This request was afterwards complied with.
    
The Emperor had a really terrible night and couldn’t sleep. He felt light-headed and spoke incoherently; still, the fever had lessened in intensity. As morning approached, the hiccups started to bother him, the fever spiked again, and he became quite delirious. He talked about his illness and called for Baxter (the Governor's doctor) to come and verify his reports. Suddenly imagining O'Meara was there, he pictured a conversation between them, burdening English policy with blame. Once the fever eased, his hearing became clear; he calmed down and continued discussing what should happen after his death. He felt thirsty and drank a lot of cold water. "If fate allows me to recover, I would build a monument at the spot where this water flows: I would honor the fountain for the comfort it has given me. If I die, and they don’t deny my remains like they have denied my person, I want to be buried with my ancestors at the cathedral of Ajaccio in Corsica. But if I’m not allowed to rest where I was born, then let them bury me where this beautiful, refreshing water runs." This request was later fulfilled.







      He remained nearly in the same state for some days. On the 1st of May he
      was delirious nearly all day, and suffered dreadful vomitings. He took two
      small biscuits and a few drops of red wine. On the 2d he was rather
      quieter, and the alarming symptoms diminished a little. At 2 P.M.,
      however, he had a paroxysm of fever, and became again delirious. He talked
      to himself of France, of his dear son, of some of his old
      companions-in-arms. At times he was evidently in imagination on the field
      of battle. "Stengel!" he cried; "Desaix! Massena! Ah! victory is declaring
      itself! run—rush forward—press the charge!—they are
      ours!"
    
He stayed in almost the same condition for several days. On May 1st, he was delirious for most of the day and experienced severe vomiting. He managed to eat two small biscuits and take a few sips of red wine. On the 2nd, he was a bit calmer, and the concerning symptoms lessened slightly. However, at 2 PM, he had a fever episode and became delirious again. He talked to himself about France, about his dear son, and some of his old comrades-in-arms. At times, he seemed to be mentally on the battlefield. "Stengel!" he shouted; "Desaix! Massena! Ah! victory is being announced! Run—rush forward—attack!—they are ours!"







      "I was listening," says Dr. Antommarchi, "and following the progress of
      that painful agony in the deepest distress, when Napoleon, suddenly
      collecting his strength, jumped on the floor, and would absolutely go down
      into the garden to take a walk. I ran to receive him in my arms, but his
      legs bent under the weight of his body; he fell backwards, and I had the
      mortification of being unable to prevent his falling. We raised him up and
      entreated him to get into bed again; but he did not recognise anybody, and
      began to storm and fall into a violent passion. He was unconscious, and
      anxiously desired to walk in the garden. In the course of the day,
      however, he became more collected, and again spoke of his disease, and the
      precise anatomical examination he wished to be made of his body after
      death. He had a fancy that this might be useful to his son." "The
      physicians of Montpelier," he said to Antommarchi, "announced that the
      scirrhosis in the pylorus would be hereditary in my family; their report
      is, I believe, in the hands of my brother Louis; ask for it and compare it
      with your own observations on my case, in order that my son may be saved
      from this cruel disease. You will see him, Doctor, and you will point out
      to him what is best to do, and will save him from the cruel sufferings I
      now experience. This is the last service I ask of you." Later in the day
      he said, "Doctor, I am very ill—I feel that I am going to die."
    
"I was listening," says Dr. Antommarchi, "and following the progression of that painful agony in the deepest distress, when Napoleon suddenly gathered his strength, jumped up, and insisted on going down to the garden to take a walk. I rushed to catch him in my arms, but his legs buckled under him; he fell backwards, and I felt terrible that I couldn’t stop him from falling. We lifted him up and begged him to get back into bed, but he didn’t recognize anyone and started to shout and lost his temper. He was unconscious but still desperately wanted to walk in the garden. However, as the day went on, he became more composed and again talked about his illness and the specific anatomical examination he wanted done on his body after death. He thought this might be helpful for his son." "The doctors in Montpelier," he told Antommarchi, "said that the scirrhosis in the pylorus would be hereditary in my family; their report is, I believe, with my brother Louis; ask him for it and compare it with your own observations on my case, so that my son can be spared from this cruel disease. You will see him, Doctor, and you will advise him on the best course of action, and help him avoid the terrible suffering I am experiencing right now. This is the last favor I ask of you." Later in the day, he said, "Doctor, I am very ill—I can feel that I'm going to die."







      The last time Napoleon spoke, except to utter a few short unconnected
      words, was on the 3d of May. It was in the afternoon, and he had requested
      his attendants, in case of his losing consciousness, not to allow any
      English physician to approach him except Dr. Arnott. "I am going to die,"
      said he, "and you to return to Europe; I must give you some advice as to
      the line of conduct you are to pursue. You have shared my exile, you will
      be faithful to my memory, and will not do anything that may injure it. I
      have sanctioned all proper principles, and infused them into my laws and
      acts; I have not omitted a single one. Unfortunately, however, the
      circumstances in which I was placed were arduous, and I was obliged to act
      with severity, and to postpone the execution of my plans. Our reverses
      occurred; I could not unbend the bow; and France has been deprived of the
      liberal institutions I intended to give her. She judges me with
      indulgence; she feels grateful for my intentions; she cherishes my name
      and my victories. Imitate her example, be faithful to the opinions we have
      defended, and to the glory we have acquired: any other course can only
      lead to shame and confusion."
    
The last time Napoleon spoke, aside from a few brief, disconnected words, was on May 3rd. It was in the afternoon, and he had asked his attendants, in case he lost consciousness, not to let any English doctor come near him except Dr. Arnott. "I am going to die," he said, "and you are going to return to Europe; I need to give you some advice on how to proceed. You have shared my exile, you will be loyal to my memory, and you won’t do anything that might harm it. I have supported all proper principles and included them in my laws and actions; I have not forgotten a single one. Unfortunately, the circumstances I faced were difficult, and I had to act strictly and delay the execution of my plans. We faced setbacks; I could not relax my grip on the situation; and France has been denied the progressive institutions I intended to provide. She judges me kindly; she appreciates my intentions; she holds my name and my victories dear. Follow her example, stay true to the beliefs we have defended, and to the glory we have achieved: any other path will only lead to shame and confusion."







      From this moment it does not appear that Napoleon showed any signs of
      understanding what was going forward around him. His weakness increased
      every moment, and a harassing hiccough continued until death took place.
      The day before that event a fearful tempest threatened to destroy
      everything about Longwood. The plantations were torn up by the roots, and
      it was particularly remarked that a willow, under which Napoleon usually
      sat to enjoy the fresh air, had fallen. "It seemed," says Antommarchi, "as
      if none of the things the Emperor valued were to survive him." On the day
      of his death Madame Bertrand, who had not left his bedside, sent for her
      children to take a last farewell of Napoleon. The scene which ensued was
      affecting: the children ran to the bed, kissed the hands of Napoleon, and
      covered them with tears. One of the children fainted, and all had to be
      carried from the spot. "We all," says Antommarchi, "mixed our lamentations
      with theirs: we all felt the same anguish, the same cruel foreboding of
      the approach of the fatal instant, which every minute accelerated." The
      favourite valet, Noverraz, who had been for some time very ill, when he
      heard of the state in which Napoleon was, caused himself to be carried
      downstairs, and entered the apartment in tears. He was with great
      difficulty prevailed upon to leave the room: he was in a delirious state,
      and he fancied his master was threatened with danger, and was calling upon
      him for assistance: he said he would not leave him but would fight and die
      for him. But Napoleon was now insensible to the tears of his servants; he
      had scarcely spoken for two days; early in the morning he articulated a
      few broken sentences, among which the only words distinguishable were,
      "tete d'armee," the last that ever left his lips, and which indicated the
      tenor of his fancies. The day passed in convulsive movements and low
      moanings, with occasionally a loud shriek, and the dismal scene closed
      just before six in the evening. A slight froth covered his lips, and he
      was no more.
    
From this moment on, it seemed that Napoleon showed no signs of understanding what was happening around him. His weakness grew with each passing moment, and an annoying hiccup persisted until his death. The day before that event, a terrible storm threatened to destroy everything around Longwood. The trees were uprooted, and it was particularly noted that a willow, where Napoleon often sat to enjoy the fresh air, had fallen. "It seemed," says Antommarchi, "as if none of the things the Emperor valued were meant to survive him." On the day of his death, Madame Bertrand, who hadn’t left his bedside, called for her children to say a final goodbye to Napoleon. The scene that followed was emotional: the children rushed to the bed, kissed Napoleon's hands, and covered them with tears. One of the children fainted, and everyone had to carry them away from the spot. "We all," says Antommarchi, "shared our sorrow with theirs: we all felt the same pain, the same dreadful anticipation of the inevitable moment that was drawing closer with every minute." The favorite servant, Noverraz, who had been quite ill for a while, when he learned of Napoleon's condition, had himself carried downstairs and entered the room in tears. He had to be persuaded with great difficulty to leave the room: he was in a delirious state, believing his master was in danger and calling for his help; he insisted he wouldn't leave and would fight and die for him. But Napoleon was now unresponsive to the tears of his servants; he had hardly spoken for two days. Early in the morning, he managed to utter a few broken sentences, and the only distinguishable words were "tete d'armee," the last words he ever spoke, which indicated the content of his thoughts. The day passed in convulsive movements and soft moans, occasionally interrupted by a loud scream, and the tragic scene came to an end just before six in the evening. A light froth covered his lips, and he was gone.







      After he had been dead about six hours Antommarchi had the body carefully
      washed and laid out on another bed. The executors then proceeded to
      examine two codicils which were directed to be opened immediately after
      the Emperor's decease. The one related to the gratuities which he intended
      out of his private purse for the different individuals of his household,
      and to the alms which he wished to be distributed among the poor of St.
      Helena; the other contained his last wish that "his ashes should repose on
      the banks of the Seine, in the midst of the French people whom he had
      loved so well." The executors notified this request to the Governor, who
      stated that his orders were that the body was to, remain on the island. On
      the next day, after taking a plaster cast of the face of Napoleon,
      Antommarchi proceeded to open the body in the presence of Sir Thomas
      Reade, some staff officers, and eight medical men.
    
After he had been dead for about six hours, Antommarchi had the body carefully washed and laid out on another bed. The executors then examined two codicils that were supposed to be opened immediately after the Emperor's death. One was about the gifts he intended from his personal funds for various members of his household, and the other detailed his final wish that "his ashes should rest on the banks of the Seine, among the French people he had loved so much." The executors informed the Governor about this request, who stated that his orders were for the body to remain on the island. The next day, after taking a plaster cast of Napoleon's face, Antommarchi opened the body in front of Sir Thomas Reade, some staff officers, and eight medical professionals.







      The Emperor had intended his hair (which was of a chestnut colour) for
      presents to the different members of his family, and it was cut off and
      kept for this purpose.
    
The Emperor had planned to use his hair (which was chestnut brown) as gifts for various family members, so it was cut off and saved for this reason.







      He had grown considerably thinner in person during the last few months.
      After his death his face and body were pale, but without alteration or
      anything of a cadaverous appearance. His physiognomy was fine, the eyes
      fast closed, and you would have said that the Emperor was not dead, but in
      a profound sleep. His mouth retained its expression of sweetness, though
      one side was contracted into a bitter smile. Several scars were seen on
      his body. On opening it it was found that the liver was not affected, but
      that there was that cancer of the stomach which he had himself suspected,
      and of which his father and two of his sisters died. This painful
      examination having been completed, Antommarchi took out the heart and
      placed it in a silver vase filled with spirits of wine; he then directed
      the valet de chambre to dress the body as he had been accustomed in the
      Emperor's lifetime, with the grand cordon of the Legion of Honour across
      the breast, in the green uniform of a colonel of the Chasseurs of the
      Guard, decorated with the orders of the Legion of Honour and of the Iron
      Crown, long boots with little spurs, finally, his three cornered hat. Thus
      habited, Napoleon was removed in the afternoon of the 6th out of the hall,
      into which the crowd rushed immediately. The linen which had been employed
      in the dissection of the body, though stained with blood, was eagerly
      seized, torn in pieces, and distributed among the bystanders.
    
He had become quite a bit thinner in person over the past few months. After his death, his face and body were pale, but not in a way that looked like a corpse. His features were refined, his eyes were tightly shut, and you would have thought the Emperor was just in a deep sleep, not dead. His mouth still had a sweet expression, even though one side was twisted into a bitter smile. There were several scars on his body. Upon opening it, it was discovered that the liver was okay, but he had the stomach cancer he had suspected, which had also taken the lives of his father and two of his sisters. Once this painful examination was done, Antommarchi removed the heart and placed it in a silver vase filled with spirits of wine; he then instructed the valet de chambre to dress the body as he had been accustomed during the Emperor's life, with the grand cordon of the Legion of Honour across the chest, in the green uniform of a colonel of the Chasseurs of the Guard, adorned with the orders of the Legion of Honour and the Iron Crown, long boots with small spurs, and finally, his tricorn hat. Dressed this way, Napoleon was taken out of the hall in the afternoon of the 6th, just as the crowd rushed in. The linens used during the dissection, though stained with blood, were eagerly grabbed, torn into pieces, and shared among the onlookers.







      Napoleon lay in state in his little bedroom which had been converted into
      a funeral chamber. It was hung with black cloth brought from the town.
      This circumstance first apprised the inhabitants of his death. The corpse,
      which had not been embalmed, and which was of an extraordinary whiteness,
      was placed on one of the campbeds, surrounded with little white curtains,
      which served for a sarcophagus. The blue cloak which Napoleon had worn at
      the battle of Marengo covered it. The feet and the hands were free; the
      sword on the left side, and a crucifix on the breast. At some distance was
      the silver vase containing the heart and stomach, which were not allowed
      to be removed. At the back of the head was an altar, where the priest in
      his stole and surplice recited the customary prayers. All the individuals
      of Napoleon's suite, officers and domestics, dressed in mourning, remained
      standing on the left. Dr. Arnott had been charged to see that no attempt
      was made to convey away the body.
    
Napoleon lay in state in his small bedroom, which had been turned into a funeral chamber. It was draped with black fabric brought from the town. This was the first sign to the locals that he had died. The unembalmed body, remarkably white, was placed on one of the camp beds, surrounded by small white curtains that served as a sarcophagus. The blue cloak Napoleon had worn at the Battle of Marengo covered him. His feet and hands were uncovered, with a sword on his left side and a crucifix on his chest. A bit further away was a silver vase containing his heart and stomach, which were not allowed to be removed. Behind his head was an altar where the priest, in his stole and surplice, recited the usual prayers. All of Napoleon's entourage, including officers and staff, dressed in black mourning clothes, remained standing on the left. Dr. Arnott had been tasked with ensuring that no one tried to take the body away.







      For some-hours the crowd had besieged the doors; they were admitted, and
      beheld the inanimate remains of Napoleon in respectful silence. The
      officers of the 20th and 66th Regiments were admitted first, then the
      others. The following day (the 7th) the throng was greater. Antommarchi
      was not allowed to take the heart of Napoleon to Europe with him; he
      deposited that and the stomach in two vases, filled with alcohol and
      hermetically sealed, in the corners of the coffin in which the corpse was
      laid. This was a shell of zinc lined with white satin, in which was a
      mattress furnished with a pillow. There not being room for the hat to
      remain on his head, it was placed at his feet, with some eagles, pieces of
      French money coined during his reign, a plate engraved with his arms, etc.
      The coffin was closed, carefully soldered up, and then fixed in another
      case of mahogany, which was enclosed in a third made of lead, which last
      was fastened in a fourth of mahogany, which was sealed up and fastened
      with screws. The coffin was exhibited in the same place as the body had
      been, and was also covered with the cloak that Napoleon had worn at the
      battle of Marengo. The funeral was ordered for the morrow, 8th May, and
      the troops were to attend in the morning by break of day.
    
For several hours, the crowd had been gathered at the doors; they were let in and quietly observed the lifeless remains of Napoleon with respect. The officers of the 20th and 66th Regiments were allowed in first, followed by others. The next day (the 7th) saw an even larger crowd. Antommarchi was not permitted to take Napoleon's heart back to Europe with him; instead, he stored it along with the stomach in two vases filled with alcohol and sealed them hermetically, placing them in the corners of the coffin where the body was laid. The coffin was made of zinc lined with white satin and contained a mattress with a pillow. Since there wasn't enough space for the hat to stay on his head, it was placed at his feet along with some eagles, pieces of French money minted during his reign, a plate engraved with his coat of arms, and more. The coffin was securely closed and soldered shut, then placed inside another mahogany case, which was then enclosed in a third lead case, which was fastened inside a fourth mahogany case that was sealed and secured with screws. The coffin was displayed in the same location as the body had been and was covered with the cloak Napoleon wore during the battle of Marengo. The funeral was scheduled for the next day, May 8th, and the troops were to attend at dawn.







      This took place accordingly: the Governor arrived first, the Rear-Admiral
      soon after, and shortly all the authorities, civil and military, were
      assembled at Longwood. The day was fine, the people crowded the roads,
      music resounded from the heights; never had spectacle so sad and solemn
      been witnessed in these remote regions. At half-past twelve the grenadiers
      took hold of the coffin, lifted it with difficulty, and succeeded in
      removing it into the great walk in the garden, where the hearse awaited
      them. It was placed in the carriage, covered with a pall of
      violet-coloured velvet, and with the cloak which the hero wore at Marengo.
      The Emperor's household were in mourning. The cavalcade was arranged by
      order of the Governor in the following manner: The Abbe Vignale in his
      sacerdotal robes, with young Henry Bertrand at his side, bearing an
      aspersorium; Doctors Arnott and Antommarchi, the persons entrusted with
      the superintendence of the hearse, drawn by four horses, led by grooms,
      and escorted by twelve grenadiers without arms, on each side; these last
      were to carry the coffin on their shoulders as soon as the ruggedness of
      the road prevented the hearse from advancing; young Napoleon Bertrand, and
      Marchand, both on foot, and by the side of the hearse; Counts Bertrand and
      Montholon on horseback close behind the hearse; a part of the household of
      the Emperor; Countess Bertrand with her daughter Hortense, in a calash
      drawn by two horses led by hand by her domestics, who walked by the side
      of the precipice; the Emperor's horse led by his piqueur Archambaud; the
      officers of marine on horseback and on foot; the officers of the staff on
      horse-back; the members of the council of the island in like manner;
      General Coffin and the Marquis Montchenu on horseback; the Rear-Admiral
      and the Governor on horseback; the inhabitants of the island.
    
This is how it happened: the Governor arrived first, shortly followed by the Rear-Admiral, and soon all the civil and military authorities gathered at Longwood. The weather was clear, people crowded the roads, and music echoed from the hills; never before had such a sad and solemn scene been seen in these distant parts. At 12:30, the grenadiers took hold of the coffin, struggled to lift it, and managed to move it to the main walk in the garden, where the hearse was waiting. It was placed in the carriage, covered with a violet velvet pall and the cloak the hero wore at Marengo. The Emperor's household was in mourning. The procession was organized by the Governor in the following order: Abbe Vignale in his priestly robes, with young Henry Bertrand beside him holding a holy water sprinkler; Doctors Arnott and Antommarchi, who were in charge of the hearse, pulled by four horses, led by grooms and flanked by twelve unarmed grenadiers on each side; these men would carry the coffin on their shoulders as soon as the rough road made it impossible for the hearse to continue. Young Napoleon Bertrand and Marchand walked beside the hearse; Counts Bertrand and Montholon rode closely behind it; part of the Emperor's household; Countess Bertrand with her daughter Hortense in a carriage drawn by two horses, led by her servants who walked along the edge of the cliff; the Emperor's horse led by his groom Archambaud; marine officers on horseback and on foot; staff officers on horseback; members of the island council likewise; General Coffin and Marquis Montchenu on horseback; the Rear-Admiral and the Governor on horseback; and the island's inhabitants.







      The train set out in this order from Longwood, passed by the barracks, and
      was met by the garrison, about 2500 in number, drawn up on the left of the
      road as far as Hut's Gate. Military bands placed at different distances
      added still more, by the mournful airs which they played, to the striking
      solemnity of the occasion. When the train had passed the troops followed
      and accompanied it to the burying-place. The dragoons marched first. Then
      came the 20th Regiment of infantry, the marines, the 66th, the volunteers
      of St. Helena, and lastly, the company of Royal Artillery, with fifteen
      pieces of cannon. Lady Lowe and her daughter were at the roadside at Hut's
      Gate, in an open carriage drawn by two horses. They were attended by some
      domestics in mourning, and followed the procession at a distance. The
      fifteen pieces of artillery were ranged along the road, and the gunners
      were at their posts ready to fire. Having advanced about a quarter of a
      mile beyond Hut's Gate the hearse stopped, the troops halted and drew up
      in line of battle by the roadside. The grenadiers then raised the coffin
      on their shoulders and bore it thus to the place of interment, by the new
      route which had been made on purpose on the declivity of the mountain. All
      the attendants alighted, the ladies descended from their carriages, and
      the procession followed the corpse without observing any regular order.
    
The train left Longwood in this order, passed by the barracks, and was met by the garrison, about 2,500 strong, lined up on the left side of the road as far as Hut's Gate. Military bands set up at various points added to the somber mood of the event with their mournful tunes. After the train passed, the troops followed and escorted it to the burial site. The dragoons went first, followed by the 20th Regiment of infantry, the marines, the 66th, the volunteers from St. Helena, and finally, the Royal Artillery with fifteen cannon. Lady Lowe and her daughter were at the roadside at Hut's Gate, in an open carriage pulled by two horses. They were accompanied by some staff members in mourning attire and trailed the procession from a distance. The fifteen pieces of artillery were lined up along the road, and the gunners were ready at their posts. After moving about a quarter of a mile past Hut's Gate, the hearse stopped, and the troops halted, forming a battle line by the roadside. The grenadiers then lifted the coffin onto their shoulders and carried it to the burial site along a new path made for the occasion on the slope of the mountain. All the attendants got out, the ladies stepped down from their carriages, and the procession followed the coffin without any specific order.







      Counts Bertrand and Montholon, Marchand and young Napoleon Bertrand,
      carried the four corners of the pall. The coffin was laid down at the side
      of the tomb, which was hung with black. Near were seen the cords and
      pulleys which were to lower it into the earth. The coffin was then
      uncovered, the Abbe Vignale repeated the usual prayers, and the body was
      let down into the grave with the feet to the east. The artillery then
      fired three salutes in succession of fifteen discharges each. The
      Admiral's vessel had fired during the procession twenty-five minute guns
      from time to time. A huge stone, which was to have been employed in the
      building of the new house of the Emperor, was now used to close his grave,
      and was lowered till it rested on a strong stone wall so as not to touch
      the coffin. While the grave was closed the crowd seized upon the willows,
      which the former presence of Napoleon had already rendered objects of
      veneration. Every one was ambitious to possess a branch or some leaves of
      these trees which were henceforth to shadow the tomb of this great man,
      and to preserve them as a precious relic of so memorable a scene. The
      Governor and Admiral endeavoured to prevent this outrage, but in vain. The
      Governor, however, surrounded the spot afterwards with a barricade, where
      he placed a guard to keep off all intruders. The tomb of the Emperor was
      about a league from Longwood. It was of a quadrangular shape, wider at top
      than at bottom; the depth about twelve feet. The coffin was placed on two
      strong pieces of wood, and was detached in its whole circumference.
    
Counts Bertrand and Montholon, Marchand, and young Napoleon Bertrand carried the four corners of the pall. The coffin was placed next to the tomb, which was draped in black. Nearby were the cords and pulleys that would lower it into the ground. The coffin was then uncovered, Abbe Vignale said the usual prayers, and the body was lowered into the grave with its feet facing east. The artillery then fired three rounds of fifteen shots each. During the procession, the Admiral's ship had fired twenty-five minute guns at intervals. A massive stone, originally meant for building the new home of the Emperor, was now used to close his grave and was lowered until it rested on a sturdy stone wall to avoid touching the coffin. While the grave was being filled, the crowd rushed to grab branches from the willows, which had already become objects of reverence due to Napoleon's earlier presence. Everyone wanted to take a branch or some leaves from these trees that would now shade the tomb of this great man, keeping them as a precious memento of such a significant event. The Governor and Admiral tried to stop this disturbance, but it was in vain. However, the Governor later surrounded the area with a barricade and placed a guard to keep out all intruders. The Emperor's tomb was about a league from Longwood. It was quadrangular, wider at the top than at the bottom, and about twelve feet deep. The coffin rested on two strong pieces of wood and was detached around its entire circumference.







      The companions of Napoleon returned to France, and the island gradually
      resumed its former quiet state, while the willows weeping over the grave
      guarded the ashes of the man for whom Europe had been all too small.
    
The friends of Napoleon came back to France, and the island slowly returned to its previous calm state, while the willows mourning over the grave watched over the remains of the man for whom Europe had been far too small.








 


 




















      ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:
    







      A sect cannot be destroyed by cannon-balls Ability in making it be
      supposed that he really possessed talent Absurdity of interfering with
      trifles Admired him more for what he had the fortitude not to do Always
      proposing what he knew could not be honourably acceded to An old man's
      blessing never yet harmed any one Animated by an unlucky zeal Buried for
      the purpose of being dug up Calumny such powerful charms Cause of war
      between the United States and England Conquest can only be regarded as the
      genius of destruction Demand everything, that you may obtain nothing Die
      young, and I shall have some consolatory reflection Every time we go to
      war with them we teach them how to beat us Every one cannot be an atheist
      who pleases Go to England. The English like wrangling politicians God in
      his mercy has chosen Napoleon to be his representative on earth Grew more
      angry as his anger was less regarded Had neither learned nor forgotten
      anything I have made sovereigns, but have not wished to be one myself I do
      not live—I merely exist Ideologues Immortality is the recollection
      one leaves Kings feel they are born general: whatever else they cannot do
      Kiss the feet of Popes provided their hands are tied Let women mind their
      knitting Malice delights to blacken the characters of prominent men
      Manufacturers of phrases More glorious to merit a sceptre than to possess
      one Most celebrated people lose on a close view Necessary to let men and
      things take their course Nothing is changed in France: there is only one
      Frenchman more Put some gold lace on the coats of my virtuous republicans
      Religion is useful to the Government Rights of misfortune are always
      sacred Something so seductive in popular enthusiasm Strike their
      imaginations by absurdities than by rational ideas Submit to events, that
      he might appear to command them Tendency to sell the skin of the bear
      before killing him That consolation which is always left to the
      discontented The boudoir was often stronger than the cabinet The wish and
      the reality were to him one and the same thing Those who are free from
      common prejudices acquire others To leave behind him no traces of his
      existence Treaties of peace no less disastrous than the wars Treaty,
      according to custom, was called perpetual Trifles honoured with too much
      attention Were made friends of lest they should become enemies When a man
      has so much money he cannot have got it honestly Would enact the more in
      proportion as we yield Yield to illusion when the truth was not
      satisfactory
    
A group can't be destroyed by cannonballs. It's assumed that he had real talent. It's ridiculous to interfere with minor issues. I admired him more for what he had the courage not to do. He always suggested things he knew couldn't be agreed to honorably. An old man's blessing has never harmed anyone. Driven by misguided zeal. Buried so he could be dug up later. Slander has such powerful appeal. The reason for the war between the United States and England. Conquest can only be seen as pure destruction. Demand everything so you end up with nothing. Die young, and I’ll have a little consolation. Every time we go to war with them, we show them how to defeat us. Not everyone can choose to be an atheist. Go to England. The English enjoy squabbling politicians. God in His mercy has chosen Napoleon as His representative on Earth. Became angrier as his anger was less noticed. Had neither learned nor forgotten anything. I have made kings but never wanted to be one myself. I don’t live—I merely exist. Ideologues. Immortality is the memory one leaves behind. Kings feel they are born to lead: whatever else they can’t do. Kiss the feet of Popes as long as their hands are tied. Let women stick to their knitting. Malice loves to tarnish the reputations of prominent men. Makers of phrases. It’s more glorious to earn a throne than to just have one. Most famous people look worse up close. Nothing has changed in France: there’s just one more Frenchman. Put some gold lace on the coats of my virtuous republicans. Religion is useful for the Government. The rights of the unfortunate are always sacred. There’s something so appealing about popular enthusiasm. They capture the imagination more with absurd ideas than with rational thoughts. Submit to events to seem like you’re in control of them. The tendency to sell the skin of the bear before catching it. That consolation always left for the unhappy. The boudoir was often more powerful than the cabinet. The wish and the reality were the same for him. Those free from common prejudices acquire new ones. To leave no traces of his existence. Treaties of peace can be just as disastrous as wars. The treaty, as usual, was called perpetual. Minor issues honored with too much attention. They made friends of potential enemies. When a man has so much money, he can’t have earned it honestly. Would enact more as we give in. Yield to illusion when the truth isn’t satisfactory.
























        
        
    

    
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