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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

CONTENTS

ILLUSTRATIONS

VOLUME I.

VOLUME II.

VOLUME III.

VOLUME IV.

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!

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.”

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.’

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.

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.

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.

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.

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).

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.”

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 truth is, that he was believed to have made much 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 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.

But it may be said to me, Why should we place more confidence in you than
in those who have written 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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’.

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.

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.

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!”

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.

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.

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.

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.

January 1885 R. W. P.

MEMOIRS of NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.

VOLUME I. — 1769-1800

CHAPTER 1

1769-1783.

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.

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.

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 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.

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.

Many and various accounts have been given of Bonaparte’s youth.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

The wife of the porter of the school,

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.

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,

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.

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.

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.”

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.

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.”

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.”

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.

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:

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.

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.

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.

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.

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?”

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.

CHAPTER II.

1784-1794.

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 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 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 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.

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

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.

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.

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

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.”

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.”

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.

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 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.

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.

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:

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.

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 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Salicetti afterwards became the friend and confidant of young Bonaparte;
but their intimacy did not continue after his elevation.

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.

It was not at Toulon, as has been stated, that Bonaparte took Duroc into
the artillery, and made him his ‘aide de camp’.

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.]

CHAPTER III.

1794-1795.

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.

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.

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.

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.

He became pensive, melancholy, and anxious; and he always looked with
impatience for Salicetti’s daily visit.

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.”

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.

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:—

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.

That power possesses a numerous and brave militia but is very backward in
the scientific part of the art of war.

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.

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.

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.

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 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.

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.

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.

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.

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:

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.

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.

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.”

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.

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!

The letters mentioned in the narrative were at this time stolen from me by
the police officers.

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.

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 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

“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.

“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.

“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 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.

“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.

“Among the dead were everywhere to be recognized emigrants, landowners,
and nobles; the prisoners consisted for the most part of 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.

“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.

“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.

“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.

“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 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.

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.

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.

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.

CHAPTER IV.

1795-1797

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.

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!

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.

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.”

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 replied as follows:

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.

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.

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.”

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.

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 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:—

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.

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:

To the above letter this order was subjoined:

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.

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.

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.

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 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.

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.”

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.

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.

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.

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.

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?

CHAPTER V

1797.

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!

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;

“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.”

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.

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.”

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!”

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.

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.

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.

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.”

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.

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.”

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.”

CHAPTER VI.

1797.

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 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.

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.

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

Bonaparte could not endure to have his conduct predicated; and enraged at
seeing his campaigns depreciated, his glory and that of his army
disparaged,

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

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:—

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.

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:—

CHAPTER VII.

1797.

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.

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.

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 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.’

[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.]

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.

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!”

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.

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.

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.

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.

CHAPTER VIII.

1797.

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 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.”

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.

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 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.

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.

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.”

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

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

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

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

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.

CHAPTER IX.

1797.

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.

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.

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.

The following post-Thermidorian letters will prove that the General’s
judgment on this point was correct.

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 4th Vendemiaire Bonaparte wrote a letter to the Directory in the
following terms:

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 had sent General Clarke

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.”

He even had the generosity to make interest for an official situation for
him. These amiable traits were not uncommon with 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.”

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.

This letter is in the handwriting of Lucien Bonaparte.’

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

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.

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:

CHAPTER X.

1797.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.”

Bottot wished to offer some excuse; but the general murmur which followed
this singular outburst reduced him to silence.

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.”

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 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.

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.

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.

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.

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:

“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 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.

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.

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.

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.”

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.”

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!

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.

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.

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?

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:

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.”

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!

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.

Bonaparte returned to Milan by way of 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!

CHAPTER XI.

1797

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.”

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.

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.”

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.

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.

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.

On arriving at Rastadt

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.”

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.

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.

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:

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.

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.

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.

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.”

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.

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

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

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.”

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.

CHAPTER XII.

1798.

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.

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.

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!

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 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.

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.

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.

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.

On the 12th of April 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.

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.

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:

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.

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.

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.

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.

It will be observed that he classed the books of the religious creeds of
nations under the head of “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.

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.

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.

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.’

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:

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 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.

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.

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.

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:

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.

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.

CHAPTER XIII.

1798.

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.

We arrived off Malta on the 10th of June. We had lost two days in waiting
for some convoys which 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.”

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:

“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!”

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.”

The General-in-Chief proceeded to that part of the port where the Turks
made prisoners by the knights were kept.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!

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.”

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.

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.

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.”

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:

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 having the command of the naval as well as the military force,
the Admiral was obliged to yield to his wishes.

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.

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.

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.

Having arrived within gunshot of Alexandria, we scaled the ramparts, and
French valour soon triumphed over all obstacles.

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.

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.

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 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.”

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.

CHAPTER XIV.

1798.

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.

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.

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 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.

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.

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.

The flotilla, commanded by the brave chief of division Perree, had just
arrived from Rosette. Perree was on board the xebec ‘Cerf’.

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.

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.

Perree cast anchor, and an engagement commenced at nine o’clock on the
14th of July, and continued till half past twelve.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.”

“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.

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.

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 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.

No conqueror, perhaps, ever enjoyed a victory so much as Bonaparte, and
yet no one was ever less inclined to abuse his triumphs.

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.

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 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.

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.

CHAPTER XV.

1798.

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:

While Bonaparte was thus actively taking measures for the organization of
the country,

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.

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.

“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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.”

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 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!”

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.

CHAPTER XVI.

1798.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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:

“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.”

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.”

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.”

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

—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.

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.

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.”

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 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.

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.

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:—

CHAPTER XVII.

1798-1799.

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 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 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,

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 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?

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.

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.

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!”

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.

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.”

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.”

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 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.

The pure and cool water of these wells delighted us.

We were not more than about six leagues 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.”

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 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.

CHAPTER XVIII

1799.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 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.

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.

(1.) Should they be sent into Egypt? Could it be done?

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.

(2.) Should they be embarked?

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.

(3.) Should the prisoners be set at liberty?

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.

(4.) Could they be incorporated, disarmed, with 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.

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.

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.

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 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 the 10th of May, when an assault took place, Bonaparte proceeded at an
early hour to the trenches.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

CHAPTER XIX.

1799.

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.

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.

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.”

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.

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.”

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!”

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.

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.

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 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.

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!

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.

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 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.

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?

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:—

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.

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.”

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.

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.

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.

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.”

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.

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?

CHAPTER XX.

1799.

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!

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.

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.