/ / 



FAMOUS WOMEN OF THE FRENCH COURT. 

By IMBERT DE SAINT-AMAND. 
Translated by Thomas Sergeant Perry. 



THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 

THE HAPPY DAYS OF THE EMPRESS MARIE LOUISE. 

MARIE ANTOINETTE AND THE END OF THE OLD 
REGIME, 

CITIZENESS BONAPARTE. 

MARIE LOUISE AND THE DECADENCE OF THE 
EMPIRE. (In Press.) 

THE COURT OF THE EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 
(In Press, J 





, cy\ cv ^^-A/ UL_. 



6 J v.,^,^^^^^^^^;;;;^^;^ 



CITIZENESS BONAPARTE 



BY 



IMBERT DE SAINT-AMAND 



TRANSLATED BY 
THOMAS SERGEANT PERRY 



V 



^ 



WITH PORTRAIT 




f 



NEW YORK 
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SON 
1890 



^. 



^\^^ 



COPYRIGHT, 1890, 
BY CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS. 



TME LIBRARTj 
or GONQRBti 

WASHIMOTOIf 



CONTENTS. 



»Ot 

CHAPTER PAGE 

I. The Day after the Wedding 1 

II. The Festival op the Victories 14 

III. Bonaparte's Entrance into Milan 25 

TV. Madame Bonaparte's Arrival in Italy ....... 34 

V. Josephine at the War 46 

VI. Between Castiglione and Arcole 59 

VII. Arcole 70 

VIII. After Arcole 83 

IX. The End of the Campaign 95 

X. The Serbelloni Palace 105 

XI. The Court of Montebello 114 

XII. July 14 at Milan 123 

XIII. Bonaparte and the 18th Fructidor 134 

XIV. Passbriano 143 

XV. Josephine at Venice 151 

XVI. Campo Formio 158 

XVII. Bonaparte's Keturn to France . . 166 

XVIII. The Festivity at the Luxembourg 172 

XIX. An Entertainment at the Ministry of Foreign 

Relations 184 

V 



yi CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER PAGE 

XX. Bonaparte and Josephine before the Expe- 
dition TO Egypt 193 

XXI. The Farewell at Toulon 202 

XXII. Paris during the Year VII 212 

XXIII. Josephine during the Egyptian Campaign 220 

XXIV. Bonaparte in Egypt 232 

XXV. The Return from Egypt 246 

XXVI. The Meeting of Bonaparte and Josephine 254 

XXVII. The Prologue of the 18th Brumaire 263 

XXVIII. The 18th Brumaire 271 

XXIX. The 19th Brumaire 280 

XXX. Epilogue 292 



CITIZENESS BONAPARTE 



CITIZENESS BONAPARTE. 



I. 



THE DAY AFTER THE WEDDING. 

FOR two clays the Viscountess of Beauharnais 
had borne the name of Citizeness Bonaparte. 
March 9, 1796 (19th Vent^se, year IV.), she had 
married the hero of the 13th Vendemiaire, the 
saviour of the Convention ; and two regicides, Barras 
and Tallien, had been present as witnesses at the 
wedding. Her husband had spent only two days 
with her, and during these forty-eight hours he had 
been obliged more than once to lock himself up with 
his maps and to plead the urgency of an imperative 
task in excuse, shouting through the door that he 
should have to postpone love till after the victory. 
And yet, although ^^ounger than his wife, — she was 
nearly thirty-three, he only twenty-six, — Bonaparte 
was very much in love with her. She was graceful 
and attractive, although she had lost some of her 
freshness, and she had the art of pleasing her young 
husband; moreover, it is well known, as the Duke 
of Ragusa says in his Memoirs, "that in love it is/ 

1 



CITIZEN ESS BONAPARTE. 



idle to seek for reasons; one loves because one loves,* 
and nothing is less capable of explanation and analy-f 
sis than this feeling. . . . Bonaparte was in love in 
every meaning of the word. It was, apparently, for 
the first time ; and he felt it with all the force of his 
character." But he had just been appointed com- 
mander-in-chief of the Army of Italy. He was obliged 
to turn his back on love, to fly to peril and glory.'' 
March 11, he wrote this letter to Letourneur, Presi- 
dent of the Directory, to tell him of his marriage 
two days before : " I had commissioned Citizen 
Barras to inform the Executive Directory of my mar- 
riage with Citizeness Tascher Beauharnais. The 
confidence which the Directory has shown me in all 
circumstances makes it my duty to inform it of all 
my actions. This is a new tie of attachment to my 
country; it is an additional guarantee of my firm 
resolution to have no other interests than those of 
the Republic. My best wishes and respects." 

The same day he left Paris, bidding farewell to his 
wife and to his little house in the rue Chantereine 
(later the rue de la Victoire), where his happiness 
had been so brief. Accompanied by his aide-de- 
camp, Junot, and his commissary-general, Chauvet, 
he carried with him forty-eight thousand francs in 
gold, and a hundred thousand francs in drafts, which 
were in part protested. It was with this modest 
purse that the commander of an army that had long 
been in want was to lead it to the fertile plains of 
Lombardy. He stopped at the house c^f Marmont's ' 



THE DAY AFTER THE WEDDING. 3 

father, at Chatillon-sur-Seine, whence he sent Jo- 
sephine a power of attorney to draw certam sums. 
March 14, at six in the evening, he stopped to change 
horses at Chanceanx, and from there he wrote a 
second letter, as follows: "I wrote to you from 
Chatillon, and I sent yon a power of attorney to 
draw certain sums which are due me. Every mo- 
ment takes me further from you, and every moment 
I feel less able to be away from you. You are ever 
in my thoughts ; my fancy tires itself in trying to 
imagine what you are doing. If I picture you sad,^ 
my heart is wrung and my grief is increased. If you 
are happy and merry with your friends, I blame you 
for so soon forgetting the painful three days' separa- 
tion ; in that case you are frivolous and destitute of 
deep feeling. As you see, I am hard to please ; but, my 
dear, it is very different when I fear your health is 
bad, or that you have any reasons for being sad ; then 
I regret the speed with which I am separated from 
my love. I am sure that you have no longer any kind 
feeling towards me, and I can only be satisfied when I 
have heard that all goes well with you. When any 
one asks me if I have slept well, I feel that I can't 
answer until a messenger brings me word that you 
have rested well. The illnesses and anger of men 
affect me only so far as I think they may affect you. 
Ma^y my good genius, who has always protected me 
amid great perils, guard and protect you ! I will 
gladly dispense with him. Ah! Don't be happy,! 
but be a little melancholy, and above all, keep sorrow 



CITIZEN ESS BONAPABTE. 



from your mind and illness from your body: you 
remember what Ossian says about that. Write to 
me, my pet, and a good long letter, and accept a 
thousand and one kisses from your best and most 
loving friend." 

At this time, Bonaparte was much more in love 
with his wife than she was with him. He adored 
her, while she was but moderately touched by the 
fiery transports of a devoted husband who felt for 
her a sort of frantic idolatry. She remained in 
Paris, a little anxious, wondering whether the man 
with whose fate she had bound herself was a madman "^ 
or a hero. At certain moments she felt perfect confi- 
dence in him ; at others, she doubted. As a woman 
of the old regime, she asked herself, " Was I wise 
to marry a friend of young Robespierre, a Republican 
general ? " Bonaparte had fascinated Josephine ; he 
had not yet won her heart. His violent, strange 
character inspired her, in fact, with more surprise 
than sympathy. He bore no likeness to the former 
courtiers of Versailles, the favorite types of nobility. 
What in him was later to be called genius, was now 
only eccentricity. Josephine was not very anxious 
to go to join him in Italy. She loved the gutter of 
the rue Chantereine as Madame de Stael loved that 
of the rue du Bac. In Paris she was near her son 
and daughter, her relatives and friends. She took 
delight in the varied but brilliant society* of the 
Directory, which had acquired some of the old-time 
elegance, and where her grace, distinction, and ami- 



THE BAY AFTER THE WEDDING. 5 



ability aroused general admiration. She saw with 
pleasure the opening of a few drawing-rooms, which 
seemed, as it were, to rise from the ashes ; and she 
was interested in the theatres and' the social life in 
wliich even the most indifferent woman finds some 
charm. 

Meanwhile, Bonaparte had reached Nice, and on 
the 29th of March had taken command of the Army 
of Italy. " There were to be seen," says the General 
de Segur, "fifty-two thousand Austrians and Sar- 
dinians and two hundred cannon, with abundant am- 
munition ; and opposing them, thirty-two thousand 
French, without pay, without provisions, without 
shoes, who had sold half their belongings to buy 
tobacco, or some wretched food. Most of them 
lacked even bayonets. They had but sixty cannon, 
and insufficient ammunition ; the guns were drawn 
by lame and mangy mules, the artillery-men went 
on foot ; and the cavalry was of no service, for the 
men led rather than rode their horses." It was to 
those men that the young general addressed this 
famous proclamation : " Soldiers, you are poorly fed 
and half-naked. The government owes you much, 
but can do nothing for you. Your patience, your 
courage, do you honor, but they bring you no ad- 
vantage, no glory. I am about to lead you into the 
most fertile plains in the world ; there you will find 
large cities and rich provinces ; there you will find 
honor, glory, and wealth. Soldiers of Italy, shall 
you lack courage ? " 



6 CITIZEN ESS BONAPARTE. 

At the moment of beginning this wonderful cam- 
paign, in which success seemed impossible, so great 
was the numerical superiority of the hostile armies, 
Bonaparte, though his ambition was so eager, did 
not forget his love. Before the first battle he Avrote 
this letter, dated Porto Maurizio, the 14th Germinal 
(April 3, 1796) : '^ I have received all your letters, 
but none has made such an impression on me as the 
last. How can you think, my dear love, of writing 
to me in such a way? Don't you believe that my 
position is already cruel enough, without adding to 
my regrets, and tormenting my soul? What a style ! 
What feelings are those you describe ! It's like fire ; 
it burns my poor heart. My only Josephine, away 
from you, there is no happiness ; away from you, 
the world is a desert in which I stand alone, with 
no chance of tasting the delicious joy of pouring out 
my heart. You have robbed me of more than my 
soul ; you are the sole thought of my life. If I am 
worn out by all the torment of events, and fear the 
issue, if men disgust me, if I am ready to curse life, 
I place my hand on my heart ; your image is beating 
there. I look at it, and love is for me perfect happi- 
ness ; and everything is smiling, except the time that 
I see myself absent from my love." 

Bonaparte, who was soon to be the prey of sus- 
picion and jealousy, was now all confidence and 
rapture. A few affectionate lines from the hand he 
loved were enough to plunge him into a sort of 
ecstasy. " By what art," he goes on, " have you \ 



THE DAY AFTER THE WEDDING. 7 

learned how to captivate all my faculties? to con- 
centrate in yourself my whole being? To live f or \ 
Josephine ! That's the story of my life. I do every- 
thing to get to you ; I am dying to join you. Fool ! 
I don't see that I am only going further away. How 
many lands and countries separate us ! How long 
before you read these words, which but feebly ex- 
press the emotions of the heart over which you 
reign ! " Alas ! the sun of love is seldom for long 
unclouded, and these rapturous whispers are soon fol- 
lowed by lamentations. That day he doubted neither 
of his wife's fidelity, nor of her love, and yet he felt 
the melancholy which is inseparable from grand 
passions. " Oh ! m.j adorable wife ! " he wrote, " I \ 
do not know what fate awaits me ; but if it keeps 
me longer from you, I shall not be able to endure it ; 
my courage will not hold out to that point. There 
was a time when I was proud of my courage ; and 
when I thought of the harm that men might do me, 
of the lot that my destiny might reserve for me, I 
looked at the most terrible misfortunes without a 
quiver, with no surprise. But now, the thought 
that my Josephine may be in trouble, that she may 
be ill, and, above all, the cruel, fatal thought that 
she may love me less, inflicts tortures on my soul, 
stops the beating of my heart, makes me sad and 
dejected, robs me of even the courage of fury and 
despair. I often used to say, Man can do no harm 
to one who is willing to die ; but now, to die without '■ 
being loved by you, to die without this certainty, is 



8 CITIZENESS BONAPABTE. 

the torture of hell; it is the vivid and crushing 
image of total annihilation. It seems to me as if I 
were choking. My only companion, you who have 
been chosen by fate to make with me the painful 
journey of life, the day when I shall no longer pos- 
sess your heart will be that when for me the world 
shall have lost all warmth and all its vegetation. . . . 
I will stop, my sweet pet ; my soul is sad, I am very 
tired, my mind is worn out, I am sick of men. I 
have good reason for hating them ; they separate me 
from my love." 

A man of Bonaparte's character never suffers long 
from melancholy. All at once the warrior reappears. 
He is suddenly aroused from his dream by the call 
of a trumpet, and he closes his letter thus : " I am 
at Porto Maurizio, near Oneglia ; to-morrow I am at 
Albenga. The two armies are in motion, each trying 
to outwit the other. The most skilful will succeed. 
I am much pleased with Beaulieu; he manoeuvres 
very well, and is superior to his predecessor. I shall 
beat him, I hope, out of his boots. Don't be anxious; 
love me like your eyes, but that's not enough, like 
yourself; more than yourself, than your thoughts, 
your mind, your life, your all. But forgive me, I'm 
raving; nature is weak, when one feels keenly, in 
him who loves you. To Barras, Sucy, Madame 
Tallien, my sincere regards ; to Madame Ch^teau- 
Renard, the proper messages ; to Eugene, to Hor- 
tense, my real love." 

April 3, Bonaparte had perfect confidence in his 



THE DAY AFTER THE WEDDING. 9 

wife ; the 7th, he suspects her : the 3d,, he Hames 
her for writing too affectionately ; the 7th, he blames 
her for writing too coldly. He wrote to her from 
Albenga, the 18th Germinal (April 7, 1796): "I 
have received a letter which you interrupt to go, 
you sa}?^, into the country ; and afterwards you pre- 
tend to be jealous of me, who am so worn out by 
work and fatigue. Oh, my dear ! . . . Of course, I 
am in the wrong. In the early spring the country is 
beautiful ; and then, the nineteen-year-old lover was 
there, without a doubt. The idea of wasting another 
moment in writing to the man, three hundred leagues 
away, who lives, moves, exists, only in memory of 
you; who reads your letters as one devours one's 
favorite dishes after hunting for. six hours. I am 
not pleased, ^our last letter is as cold as friendship. 
I find in it none of the fire which shines in your 
glance, which I have sometimes fancied that I saw 
there. But how absurd I am! I found your pre- 
vious letters moved me too much ; the emotions they 
produced broke my rest and mastered my senses. I 
wanted colder letters, but these give me the chill of 
death. The fear of not being loved by Josephine, 
the thought of her proving inconstant, of — But I 
am inventing trouble for myself. When there is so 
much that is real in the world, is it necessary to 
devise more ? You cannot have inspired me with 
boundless love without sharing it, with your soul, 
your thought, your reason ; and no one can, in 
return for such affection, such devotion, inflict a 



10 CITIZEN ESS BONAPABTE. 

deadly blow. ... A memento of my only wife, and 
a victory, — those are my wishes ; a single, complete 
memento, worthy of him who thinks of you at every 
moment." 

The victories were about to follow, swift and 
amazing. April 12, it was Montenotte ; the 14th, 
Millesimo. On the heights of Monte Zemolo, the 
army saw suddenly at its feet the promised land, the 
rich and fertile plains of Italy, with their splendid 
cities, their broad rivers, their magnificent cultivation. 
The rays of the dawn lit up this unrivalled view ; on 
the horizon were to be seen the eternal snows of the 
Alps. A cry of joy broke from the ranks. The 
young general, pointing to the scene of his future 
conquests, exclaimed, "Hannibal crossed the Alps, 
and we have turned them ! " April 22, the victory 
of Mondovi ; on the 28th, the armistice of Cherasco 
with Piedmont. Bonaparte addressed this proclama- 
tion to his troops : " Soldiers, in fifteen days you have 
won six victories ; captured twenty-one flags, fifty 
cannon, many fortified places ; conquered the richest 
part of Piedmont ; you have captured fifteen thou- 
sand prisoners, and killed and wounded ten thousand 
men. You lacked everything, you have supplied 
yourself with everything; you have gained battles 
without cannon ; crossed rivers without bridges ; 
made forced marches without shoes ; often biv- 
ouacked without bread ; the Republican 'phalanxes 
were alone capable of such extraordinary deeds. 
Soldiers, receive your due of thanks ! " 



THE DAY AFTER THE WEDDING. 11 

Bonaparte sent his brother Joseph and his aide-de- 
camp Jnnot to Paris. Tlie 5th Floreal (April 24, 
1796), he Avrote to his wife : " My brother will hand 
you this letter. I have a very warm friendship for 
liim. He will, I hope, win yours ; he deserves it. 
He is naturally of a very gentle character, and unfail- 
ingly kind ; he is full of good qualities. I wrote to 
Barras asking that he be appointed consul in some 
Italian port. He wants to live in quiet with his little 
wife, out of the great whirl of important events. I 
recommend him to you. I have received your letters 
of the 16th and the 21st. You. were a good many 
days without writing to me. What were you doing? 
Yes, my dear, I am, not jealous, but sometimes un- 
easy. Come quickly ; I warn you that if you delay, 
you will find me ill. These fatigues and your 
absence are too much for me." Henceforth Bona- 
parte's keenest desire was to see his wife come to 
Italy. He begs and entreats her not to lose a 
moment. " Your letters," he goes on, " are the 
delight of my days, and my happy days are not very 
many. Junot is carrying twenty-two flags to Paris. 
You must come back with him; do you understand? 
It would be hopeless misery, an inconsolable grief, 
continual agony, if I should have the misfortune of 
seeing him come back alone, my adorable one. He 
will see you, he will breathe the air of your shrine, 
perhaps even you will grant him the singular and 
unappreciable favor of kissing your cheek, while I am 
alone, and very, very far away. But you will come. 



12 CITIZENESS BONAPARTE. 



won't you ? You will be here, by my side, on my 
heart, in my arms ! Take wings, come, come ! But 
travel slowly ; the way is long, bad, and tiresome. If 
you were to upset or be hurt ; if the fatigue — Come, 
eagerly, my adorable one, but slowly." 

King Joseph, in his Memoirs, thus speaks of his 
and Junot's departure for Paris : " It was at Cherasco, 
the 5th of Floreal, that my brother commissioned me 
to set before the Directory his reasons for the speediest 
possible peace with the King of Sardinia, in order to 
isolate the Austrians in Italy. To his aide-de-camp 
Junot he assigned the duty of presenting the battle- 
flags. We left in the same postchaise and reached 
Paris one hundred and twenty hours after our depart- 
ure from Nice. It would be hard to form a notion of 
the popular enthusiasm. The members of the Direc- 
tory hastened to testify their content with the army 
and its leader. Director Carnot, at the end of a 
dinner at his house at which I was present, indignant 
with the unfavorable opinion which Bonaparte's ene- 
mies expressed, declared before twenty guests that 
they did him injustice, and opening his waistcoat, he 
showed the portrait of the general, which he wore on 
his heart, and exclaimed, 'Tell your brother that he 
is there, because I foresee that he will be the saviour 
of France, and that he must well know that in the 
Directory he has only admirers and friends.' " Murat, 
who had been sent from Cherasco, through Piedmont, 
to carry the draft of the armistice to Paris, arrived 
there before Joseph and Junot. Josephine asked of 



THE DAY AFTER THE WEDDING. 13 

them all the most minute details concerning her 
husband's success. In a few days he had stepped 
from obscurity to glory. Citizeness Bonaparte did 
not regret her confidence in the star of the man of 
Yendemiaire, and already in the Republic she held 
the position of a princess. 



B 



II. 



THE FESTIVAL OF THE VICTORIES. 

ONAPARTE'S glory had been, one might say, 
the work of an mstant. The feeling in Paris 
was one of profound surprise. Even Josephine had 
been amazed at such swift and unexpected successes. 
Every one was asking for details about this young 
man who was known only from the part he played 
in the day of Vendemiaire, and whose origin was 
shrouded in mystery; but none knew anything more 
than how his name was pronounced and spelled. Of 
his family, liis beginnings, his fortune, his character, 
the public knew absolutely nothing. But no one 
ever equalled Napoleon in the art of getting himself 
talked about. In his first proclamations to the army, " 
in his first despatches to the Directory, we see this 
knowledge of effect which made the hero an artist. 
The Directory went to work to build him a pedestal 
with their own hands. 

At first the Moniteur mentioned the success of the 
Army of Italy without especial emotion. It was on 
the last page of the number of May 10, 1796, that 
was printed the account of the reception of the flags 

14 



THE FESTIVAL OF TEE VICTORIES. 15 

— a ceremony at which Josephme was present. The 
Moniteur spoke thus : " The Directory received 
to-day, in public session, twenty-one flags captured 
by the French Republicans from the Austrian s and 
the Sardinians, at Millesimo, Dego, and Mondovi. 
The Minister of War, in presenting the officer who 
brought these trophies, made a speech in which he 
paid homage to the valor of this Army of Italy which, 
to the glory of finishing the campaign by its victories, 
adds that of opening it again by its triumphs, the 
precursors of a peace worthy of the French Republic. 
The officer then spoke with the virile accent and 
modest air which characterize the heroes of liberty. 
In the name of his fellow-soldiers he swore that they 
would shed the last drop of their blood in defence of 
the Republic, in behalf of the enforcement of the 
laws, and of the support of the Constitution of 1795. 
The President of the Directory replied with an emo- 
tion which rendered the dignity of his words more 
touching. He offered the brave officer a sword and 
gave him a fraternal kiss. This session, which lasted 
but half an hour, presented a spectacle as imposing 
as it was moving. The sounds of military music 
added to the general enthusiasm, which frequently 
manifested itself by cries of 'Long live the Re- 
public ! ' " 

In her interesting Memoirs, the Duchess of 
Abrant^s speaks of the effect produced on that day 
by Madame Bonaparte and Madame Tallien, who were 
two of the principal ornaments of this patriotic fes- 



16 CITIZENESS BONAPARTE. 

tival. "Madame Bonaparte," she says, "was still 
charming. ... As for Madame Tallien, she was then 
in the flower of her wonderful beauty. Both were 
dressed after the fashion of antiquity, which was at 
that time regarded as the height of elegance, and as 
sumptuously as was possible for the middle of the 
day. Junot must surely have been very proud to 
give his arm to two such charming women, when 
they left the Directory after the reception. Junot 
was then twenty-five years old : he was a handsome 
young man, and had a most striking martial air ; on 
that day he wore a magnificent uniform of a colonel 
of hussars (the uniform of Berchini), and all that the 
richness of such a dress could add to his fine appear- 
ance had been employed to make the young and 
brave messenger, who was still pale from the wounds 
which had stained those flags, worthy of the army he 
represented. On leaving, he offered his arm to 
Madame Bonaparte, who had precedence as the wife of 
his general, especially on this formal occasion ; the 
other he gave to Madame Tallien, and thus he de- 
scended the staircase of the Luxembourg." Would 
not Junot, as colonel of hussars, with Josephine on 
one arm and Madame Tallien on the other, on the 
staircase of the palace of Maria de' Medici, make a 
charming subject of a genre picture ? The Duchess 
of Abrant^s describes the excitement of the crowd, 
who were anxious to see the young hero and the two 
fashionable beauties. " The throng," she says, " was 
numberless. They surged and pressed for a better 



THE FESTIVAL OF THE VICTORIES. 17 

view. ' See ; there's his wife ! that's his aide-de- 
camp ! How young he is ! And how pretty she is ! 
Long live General Bonaparte ! ' shouted the people. 
' Long live Citizeness Bonaparte ! She is kind to the 
poor ! ' ' Yes, yes,' said a fat marketwoman ; ' she is 
certainly Our Lady of the Victories.' " 

The poet Arnault, in his Souvenirs of a Sexage- 
narian^ also describes the effect produced by Jose- 
phine's beauty on this occasion. Madame Bonaparte, 
who was much admired, shared the sceptre of popu- 
larity with Madame Tallien and Madame Recamier. 
"With these two women for her rivals," says 
Arnault, " althougli she was less brilliant and fresh, 
yet, thanks to the regularity of her features, the won- 
derful grace of her figure, and her agreeable expres- 
sion, she too was beautiful. I still recall them all 
there, dressed in such a way as to bring out their 
various advantages most becomingly, wearing beauti- 
ful flowers on their heads, on a lovely May day, en- 
tering the room where the Directory was about to 
receive the battle-flags: they looked like the three 
spring months united to celebrate the victory." The 
young poet, who more than once had the honor of 
escorting Josephine, was very proud to accompany 
her and Madame Tallien to the first performance of 
Lesueur's Telemaque at the Theatre Feydeau. " I 
will confess," he says, " that it was not without some 
pride that I found myself seated between the two 
most remarkable women of the time, and it is not 
without some pleasure that I recall the fact: those 



18 CITIZENUSS BONAPARTE. 



feelings were natural for a young man enthusiastic 
for beauty and for glory. It was not Tallien whom 
I should have loved in his wife, but it was certainly 
Bonaparte whom I admired in his." 

At that time Bonaparte passed for a perfect Repub- 
lican. He had written to the Directory, May 6 : '' For 
a long time nothing has been able to add to the esteem 
and devotion which I shall display at every opportu- 
nity for the Constitution and the government. I have 
seen it established amid the most disgusting passions, 
all tending equally to the destruction of the Republic 
and of the French commonwealth ; I was even able 
by my zeal and the force of circumstances, to be of 
some use at its beginning. My motto shall always 
be to die in its support." 

The Directors thought that a general who expressed 
such an ardent devotion to Republican ideas ought 
to receive every encouragement and all praise. With 
no suspicions of the conqueror's future conduct, they 
were anxious to adorn themselves, as it were, with 
his victories, and to make them redound to the glory 
of their government. Hence the ceremony of May 
10 seemed insufficient; they decided that the new 
festivals should be more brilliant and impressive. It 
was on the 10th of May, the day when the Directory 
formally received the flags captured in the first vic- 
tories, that Bonaparte won the battle of Lodi, — a 
glorious day that made a deep impression on the 
imagination of the populace. None thought of any- 
thing except of the bridge over which, in spite of the 



THE FESTIVAL OF THE VICTORIES. 19 

fire of the enemy converging on its long and narrow 
path, the young hero had led his grenadiers at the 
double quick. They already had begun to call him 
infallible and irresistible. May 15, he made his tri- 
umphal entry into Milan. 

The Directory was entranced. Its Commissary 
General of the Army of Italy, Salicetti, had written. 
May 11 : " Citizens Directors, immortal glory to the 
brave Army of Italy! Gratitude for the chief who 
leads it with such wise audacity ! Yesterday will be 
famous in the annals of history and of war. . . . The 
Republican column having formed, Bonaparte passed 
through the ranks. His presence filled the soldiers 
with enthusiasm ; he was greeted with incessant cries 
of ' Long live the Republic ! ' He had the charge 
sounded, and the men rushed on the bridge with 
the speed of lightning." 

To celebrate these new triumphs, the Directory 
prepared a festival, half patriotic, half mythological, 
one more Pagan than Christian, in which reminis- 
cences of Plutarch mingled with those of Jean 
Jacques Rousseau; one in which, besides the heroic 
feeling of the time, there found expression its fond- 
ness for declamation and its love of extravagant 
language. The " Festival of Gratitude and of the 
Victories " (such was its official title) was celebrated 
at the Champ de Mars, the 10th Prairial, Year lY., 
May 29, 1796. In the middle of the Champ de Mars, 
which was called also the Champ de la Reunion, 
there had been raised a platform about twelve 



20 CITIZEN ESS BONAPARTE. 

feet high. There led to it four flights of steps, 
each about sixty feet broad. At the foot of the 
steps were lions, " the symbol of force, courage, 
and generosity," according to the Moniteur. The 
circle describing the limits of the space devoted to. 
the ceremony was formed by cannon which served as 
barriers ; between the cannon, flags were arranged 
which were connected by festoons of flowers. On a 
pedestal in the middle of the rising ground appeared 
the statue of Liberty seated amid various military 
trophies, with one hand resting on the Constitution, 
and in the other holding a wand, on the top of which 
was William Tell's cap. Perfumes were burning in 
antique tripods placed about the statue. On one 
side arose a high tree on which were hung, like 
trophies, the captured battle-flags. Near by, on 
pedestals, stood the Victories, like figures of Fame. 
Each one of them held in one hand a palm, and in 
the other a military trumpet raised to her lips. 
Finally, on an altar, were oak and laurel leaves 
which the Directors were to distribute in the name 
of the grateful country. 

At ten in the morning, a salvo of artillery an- 
nounced the beginning of the festival. The slopes 
of the Champ de Mars were covered with tents. 
The Parisian National Guard, with its arms and 
banners, marched forward in fourteen sections, rep- 
resenting the fourteen armies of the Kepublic. To 
each one of these fourteen sections was added a 
certain number of disabled veterans or wounded 



THE FESTIVAL OF THE VICTORIES. 21 

soldiers, and care had been taken to place them in 
the section representing the army in which they had 
received their wounds. Carnot spoke first, as Presi- 
dent of the Directory. His speech was, so to speak, 
a military eclogue. The former member of the Com- 
mittee of Public Safety celebrated military glory 
after the fashion of a pastoral. He blew in turn the 
trumpet and the shepherd's pipe. Sensibility mingled 
with warlike ardor. It was a sermon of a Tyrtseus. 
Few documents so well reflect the ideas and tastes 
of the society of that time as this speech, which is 
full of words of war, and, at the same time, of hu- 
manity. It begins thus : " At this moment, when 
nature seems to be born anew, when the earth, 
adorning itself with flowers and verdure, promises 
us rich harvests, when all creatures announce in 
their language the beneficent Intelligence which 
makes over the universe anew, the French people 
gather, in this solemn festival, to render fitting 
homage to the talents and the virtues loved ,by the 
country and by every human being. What day 
could more fitly unite all hearts? What citizen, 
what man, can be insensible to the feeling of grati- 
tude ? We exist only by means of a long series of 
benefits, and our life is but a continual interchange 
of services. Feeble, without support, our parents' 
love watches over our infancy. They guide our first 
steps ; their patient solicitude aids the development 
of our members ; from them we receive our first 
notions of what we are ourselves and of what is out- 



22 CITIZENESS BONAPABTE. 

side of us." After this exordium comes the usual 
praise of sensibility, the fashionable term, which the 
most ferocious of the Terrorists, Robespierre himself, 
had employed with so much emphasis. " Sensibility," 
said Carnot, "does not confine itself to the narrow 
sphere of the family circle ; it goes forth to find the 
needy in his hovel, and pours into his breast the balm 
of aid and consolation, and though already rewarded 
for its benevolence by the feeling of benevolence, it 
receives a further recompense from gratitude. Hu- 
manity, how delicious is thy practice ! how pitiable 
the greedy soul who knows thee not ! " 

After this dithyramb in honor of nature, the family, 
and sensibility, come martial descriptions ; as after 
the harp, the trumpet. " The new-born Republic 
arms its children to defend its independence ; nothing 
can stem their impetuosity : they ford rivers, capture 
retrenchments, scale cliffs. Then, after a host of 
victories, they enlarge our boundaries to the barriers 
which nature itself has set, and pursue over the ice 
the fragments of three armies: there, they are about 
to exterminate the hord-es of traitors and of brigands 
vomited forth by England, they punish the guilty 
leaders and restore to the Republic their brothers, too 
long lost; here, crossing the Pyrenees, they hurl 
themselves from the mountain top, overwhelming 
every obstacle, and are stopped only by an honorable 
peace ; then, scaling the Alps and the Apennines, 
they dash across the Po and the Adda. The ardor of 
the soldier is seconded by the genius and the audacity 



THE FESTIVAL OF THE VICTORIES. 23 

of his leaders, who form their plans with wisdom and 
carry them out with energy, — now arranging their 
forces with calmness, now plunging into the midst 
of dangers at the head of their companions." 

Carnot concluded his speech with an expression of 
gratitude to the soldiers of the Republic. " Accept," 
he exclaimed, "accept this solemn testimonial of 
national gratitude, O armies of the Republic ! . . . 
Why is nothing left but your memory, ye heroes 
who died for liberty ? You will at least live forever 
in our hearts ; your children will be dear to us. The 
Republic will repay to them what it owes you ; and 
we have come here to pay the first, in proclaiming 
your glory and its recognition. Republican armies ! 
represented in this enclosure by some of your mem- 
bers, ye invincible phalanxes whose new successes I 
see in the future, advance and receive the triumphal 
crowns which the French people orders to be fastened 
to your banners." 

Later, there was dancing on the Champ de Mars 
until nightfall. In the evening there Avas a great 
Republican banquet at which was sung a hymn, half 
patriotic, half convivial, composed for the occasion 
by the poet Lebrun, — Pindar Lebrun, as he was 
then called. It ran as follows : — 

" O day of undying memory, 
Adorn thyself with om- laurels !. 
Centuries, you will find it hard to believe 
The prodigies of our warriors. 
Tlie enemy has disappeared in flight or has drunk the black 
wave. 



24 CITIZEN ESS BONAPARTE. 

"Under the laurels, what charms has Bacchus? 
Let us fill, my friends, the cup of glory 
With a nectar fresh and sparkling ! 
Let us drink, let us drink to Victory, 
Faithful mistress of the French. 

" Liberty, preside over our festivities ; 
Rejoice in our brilliant exploits ! 
The Alps have bowed their heads, 
And have not been able to defend the kings. 
The Eridanus recounts to the seas our swift conquests," etc., etc. 

We have seen what Avas gomg on m Paris. What 
had happened at Milan? 



III. 



BONAPARTE S ENTRANCE INTO MILAN. 

THE young and valiant army which had just made 
its triumphant entrance into Milan was full of 
ardor, fire, and enthusiasm. All were young, — the 
commander, the officers, and the men, — as were their 
ideas, feelings, and hopes. These short men of the 
South, with their sunburned faces, their expression 
of wit and mischief, their eyes of fire, had a proud and 
free air. They had the merits of the French Revo- 
lution without its faults. They were brave and 
kind, terrible and generous, magnificent in the battle, 
and gay and amusing on the day after the victory. 
Full of imagination, rather inclined to talking and 
bragging, but yet so worthy of respect for their hero- 
ism, their self-denial, their unselfishness ; they were 
not ambitious for themselves, but only for their 
country. They had no jealousy of one another, and 
did not care for rank or money. The military career 
was not their trade, but a vocation, a passion. They 
preferred their ragged uniforms to the luxury of a 
millionnaire. They despised everything which was 
not military. Not only had they no fear of danger, 

25 



26 CITIZEN ESS BONAPARTE. 

they loved it, and lived in it as if it were their ele- 
ment. In the redoubt of Dego, Bonaparte exclaimed, 
" With twenty thousand such men, one could march 
through Europe." A Gascon grenadier answered 
aloud, " If the little corporal will always lead us in 
that way, I promise that he will never see us in 
retreat." Since Csesar's legionaries there had been 
nothing seen that could be compared with Bona- 
parte's soldiers. They were very happy at Milan. 
They who had so long been without shoes, • — 

" Barefooted, without bread, deaf to cowardly alarms, 
All marched to glory with the same step," — 

were now well nourished, well clad and shod. Good 
shoes are a great happiness to a poor soldier. They 
were in this city, which is a sort of earthly paradise, 
with its magnificent marble cathedral, its beautiful 
women, its enchanting views. The city is surrounded 
by a remarkably fertile country : meadows, woods, 
fields, gilded by the sun ; in the distance appears the 
huge chain of the Alps, the summits of wliich, from 
Monte Viso and Monte Rosa as far as the mountains 
of Bassano, are covered with snow all the year round. 
The air is so pure and limpid that the nearest j)oints 
of the Alpine chain, though really a dozen or fifteen 
leagues away, seem scarcely more than three. The 
soldiers gazed with rapture at this glowing panorama, 
at the rich fields of Lombardy, this promised land ; at 
gigantic Monte Viso, which had so long risen over 
their heads, and now they were to see the sun set 
behind it. 



BONAPARTE'S ENTBANCE INTO MILAN. 27 

Bonaparte entered Milan May 15, 1796. He found 
there a large force of the National Guard, wearing 
the Lombard colors, — green, white, and red. Under 
the command of a great nobleman of the city, the 
Duke of Serbelloni, it was drawn up in line along his 
path. Cheers filled the air. Pretty women were look- 
ing out from every window. When Bonaparte reached 
the Porta Eomana, the National Guard presented 
arms before him. With a large detachment of in- 
fantry in advance, and surrounded by his guard of 
hussars, he went on as far as the Place in front of 
the Archducal Palace, where he was quartered, and 
there was served a dinner of two hundred plates.. A 
liberty-tree was set out in the square, amid shouts of 
" Hurrah for Liberty ! Long live the Pepublic I " 
The day closed with a very brilliant ball, at which 
appeared several ladies of the city, wearing the French 
national colors. 

The same day, one of Bonaparte's aides-de-camp, 
Marmont, who was later Duke of Ragusa, wrote to 
his father: "Dear Father, we are to-day in Milan. 
Our triumphal entry recalled the entrance of the 
ancient Poman generals into Rome when they had 
deserved well of the country. Milan is a very fine 
city, large and populous. Its inhabitants are thor- 
oughly devoted to the French, and it is impossible 
to express all the signs of affection they have given 
us. ... It is easy to forget all the fatigues of a war 
as hot as this has been, when victory is our reward. 
Our successes are really incredible. They make 



CITIZEN ESS BONAPARTE. 



General Bonaparte's name forever famous, and it is 
perfectly clear that we owe them to him. Any one 
else in his place would have been beaten, and he has 
gone on simply from one triumph to another. . . . 
This campaign is the finest and most brilliant that 
has ever been known. It ought to be recorded and 
read. It is full of instruction, and those who can un- 
derstand it Avill get great profit from it. Such, dear 
father, is a faithful picture of our situation." 

That evening Bonaparte asked his aide-de-camp, 
" Well, Marmont, what do you suppose people are 
saying about us in Paris? Are they satisfied?" 
" They must be filled with admiration for you." 
" They haven't seen anything yet," replied Bona- 
parte ; " there are still greater successes for us in the 
future. Fortune has not smiled on us to-day for me 
to despise her favors ; she is a woman, and the more 
she does for me, the more I shall demand of her. . . . 
In our time, no one has devised anything great; I 
must set an example." 

Bonaparte possessed to a wonderful degree the art 
of striking the imagination. One would have said that 
in him was revived one of the great men of Plutarch. 
His genius, fed on the history of the ancients, trans- 
ported antiquity into modern times. All his words 
and actions, even when they appeared most simple, 
were arranged for effect. He thought continually 
of Paris, as Alexander used to think of Athens. 
The feeling which he was anxious to inspire was a 
mixture of admiration and surprise. With an un- 



I 



BONAPARTE'S ENTBANCJE INTO MILAN. 29 

rivalled audacity, and the adventurous spirit of a 
gambler who stakes everything for everything, he 
united a knowledge of the human heart most as- 
tounding in a man of his age. Nothing is rarer than 
this combination of a boundless imagination with a 
positive and scheming mind. There were in Bona- 
parte two different and complementary persons, — 
the poet and the practical man. He dreamt and 
he acted; he adored at the same time Ossian and 
mathematics; he passed from the wildest visions to 
the most precise realities ; from the sublimest gener- 
alities to the humblest and most trivial details. It 
is this harmony between generally incompatible qual- 
ities that makes him such an original figure. 

The general's great merit lay in perceiving at once 
what he could do with such men as he had under his 
command. So humdrum a society as ours cannot 
easily understand heroic times when the richest 
banker is inferior to a simple sub-lieutenant, when 
the military spirit was every day calling forth fabu- 
lous exploits. Bonaparte's soldiers believed in him, 
and he believed in them. The strength of this un- 
rivalled army lay in this, that they had confidence. 
The French are knights by birth. The Republic, 
far from changing their character, only made them 
more enthusiastic. As soon as they had received 
their baptisms of fire, the Jacobins became paladins, 
the Sans Culottes found themselves filled with the 
aspirations of the Crusaders. The companions of 
Charlemagne or of Godfrey of Bouillon were not 



30 CITIZENESS BONAPARTE. 

braver or more ardent. What an irresistible fire 
there was in that revolutionary chivalry, the nobility 
of a day, which already effaced the old coats of arms, 
and when applauded by the aristocracy of Milan, it 
could proudly say, like Bonaparte, " One grows old 
quickly on the battle-field." 

Stendhal knew how to describe most accurately 
this glorious poverty of the heroes of the Army of 
Italy, in the characteristic anecdote which he tells 
of one of the handsomest of its officers, a M. Robert. 
When he reached Milan, in the morning of May 15, 
M. Robert was invited to dinner by a marchioness, to 
whose house he had been billeted. He dressed him- 
self with great care, but what he needed was a good 
pair of shoes ; of his own, only the uppers were left. 
These he fastened very carefully with little, well- 
blacked cords ; but, I repeat, the shoes had no soles at 
all. He was received most cordially by the marchion- 
ess, and he found her so charming, and was in such 
uneasiness lest his poverty should have been detected 
by the lackeys in magnificent livery who were waiting 
on the table, that when he rose, he dropped a six- 
franc piece into their hands : it was every penny he 
had in the world. 

At that time, society was not thoroughly honey- 
combed with corruption ; there were great ladies who 
loved for the sake of love, and money was not the 
sole attraction. The desire of pleasure was most keen 
in those days when one counted on a short life. The 
deadlier the battles, the greater the eagerness for 



BONAPARTE'S ENTRANCE INTO MILAN. 31 

amusement. The more they braved death, the more 
feverishly they pursued what makes life agreeable. 
What could be bought for money they did not care 
for ; but what could not be bought, like love and 
glory, they sought with the utmost ardor. 

Moreover, from the moment they entered Milan, 
the soldiers enjoyed a comfort to which they had long 
been strangers. They began to grow fat ; they had 
good bread and meat to eat, and good wine to drink ; 
they changed their rags for new uniforms supplied 
by the city. Monday, May 16, Bonaparte received 
the oath of allegiance from the city authorities : that 
evening there was a concert in the theatre of La Scala, 
which was brilliantly lit. The 18th, a new liberty- 
tree was planted, and a national feast was announced 
in the name of the Society of the People, in a decree 
dated Year I. of the Lombard Republic. The 19th, 
the city was illuminated, and everywhere was posted 
this proclamation, signed by Bonaparte and Salicetti : 
" The French Republic, which has sworn hatred to 
tj'rants, has at the same time sworn fraternity with 
the people. ... The despot who so long held Lom- 
bardy beneath his yoke did great harm to France ; 
but the French know that the cause of kings is not 
that of their people. It is sure that the victorious 
army of an insolent monarch would spread terror 
throughout a defeated nation ; but a republican army, 
compelled to make war to the death against the kings 
it combats, promises friendship to the people whom 
its victories deliver from tyranny." 



32 CITIZEN ESS BON A*P ARTE. 



Bonaparte seemed happy, yet even at the moment 
of his victory he was suffering. Stendhal has said : 
" Seeing this young general under the handsome tri- 
umphal arch of the Porta Romana, it would have 
been hard for even the most experienced philosopher 
to guess the two passions which tormented his heart." 
These were the hottest love excited by madness to 
jealousy, and anger due to the determination of the 
Directory. The very evening before his victorious 
entry into Milan, Bonaparte, unknown to any of those 
about him, had sent to Paris his resignation. He had 
just been informed by the Directory, that henceforth 
the Army of Italy was to be divided into two armies, 
one of which, that of the South, was to be confided to 
him, and was to set forth to conquer the southern 
part of the Peninsula; while the other, that of the 
North, was to be commanded by General Kellerman. 
Bonaparte perceived that this arrangement robbed 
him of his glory, and would destroy his power and 
fame. May 14, he wrote to the Directory a letter con- 
taining this passage : " I regard it as very impolitic 
to divide the Army of Italy ; it is equally unfavorable 
to the interests of the Republic to set it under two 
different generals. I have conducted the campaign 
without consulting any one ; I should have failed if 
I had been compelled to adapt myself to another's 
methods. I have gained some advantages over greatly 
superior forces, when I was in absolute need of every- 
thing, because, confiding in your trust in me, my 
march was as swift as my thought. ... I feel that 



BONAPABTE'S ENTBANCE INTO MILAN. 33 

it takes much courage to write to you this letter; 
it exposes me to the charge of ambition and pride. 
But I owe to you this statement of my feelings." 
The same day he wrote privately to Carnot a letter 
which closed thus : '' I am very anxious not to lose, 
in a week, two months of fatigue, toil, and danger, 
and also not to be fettered. I have begun with some 
glory, and I desire to continue to be worthy of you. 
Believe, moreover, that nothing Avill diminish the 
esteem which you inspire in all who know you." 

Thus the successful general, at the very beginning 
of his career, was threatened with the loss of the 
command which had brought him so much renown. 
Possibly it was not this thought which most sorely 
wrung his passionate heart. He had besought his 
wife to join him, and yet she had not come. Days 
and weeks passed, but he received no news of her 
starting. Perhaps, — he thought in his heart, — per- 
haps she does not come because she is detained in 
Paris by love for some one else. This tormenting 
thought marred the joy of his triumph. 



IV. 



MADAME BONAPARTE S AREIVAL IN ITALY. 

MADAME DE REMUSAT says, in her curious 
Memoirs : " I ought to speak about Bona- 
parte's heart; but if it is possible to believe that a 
being like us in every other respect should yet be 
destitute of that part of our nature which inspires us 
with the need of loving and being loved, I should 
say that when he was created, his heart was probably 
forgotten; or else, perhaps, that he knew how to 
repress it completely. He was too anxious for his 
own fame to be hampered by an affectionate feeling 
of any sort. He scarcely recognized the ties of 
blood, the rights of nature." This opinion seems to 
us strangely exaggerated. Doubtless ambition and 
the lust of glory finally prevailed over every otlier 
feeling in this man's soul. Yet we are not justified 
in saying, with Lamartine : — 

" No human feeling beat beneath thy thick armor. 
Without hate and without love, thou didst live to think. 
Like an eagle, reigning in a solitary heaven, 
Thou hadst but a glance wherewith to measure the earth. 
And talons to embrace it." 
34 



MADAME BONAPARTE'S ARRIVAL IN ITALY. 35 

Whatever the poet may say, Napoleon knew both 
hate and love. Whatever power a man may obtam, 
he cannot rise ontsicle of humanity. Heroes and 
rulers, unable to satisfy that void which is called the 
heart with the triumphs of glory and ambition, they 
feel the need of personal happiness, like humble citi- 
zens ; and they are often more elate over a word, a 
glance, a smile, than over all the splendor of their 
greatness and all the intoxication of victory. To 
deny Bonaparte's passionate love for Josephine in 
1796 would be to deny the evidence. All those 
who were in his company at the time agree in bearing 
witness to this feeling. His secretary, Bourrienne, 
and his aides-de-camp, Marmont and Lavalette, his 
friend, the poet Arnault, were all equally struck by 
it. Marmont has said, in the part of his Memoirs 
devoted to the first Italian campaign: "Bonaparte, 
however occupied he may have been with his great- 
ness, the interest entrusted to -him, and with his 
future, had nevertheless time to devote to feelings 
of another sort; he was continually thinking of his 
wife. He desired her, and awaited her with impa- 
tience. . . . He often spoke to me of her, and of 
his love, with all the frankness, fire, and illusion of 
a very young man. Her continual postponement of 
her departure tormented him most grievously ; and 
he gave way to feeliugs of jealousy, and to a sort of 
superstition which was a marked trait of his charac- 
ter. During a trip we made together at this time, 
to inspect the places in Piedmont that had fallen 



36 CITIZENESS BONAPARTE. 

into our hands, one morning, at Tortona, the glass 
in front of his wife's portrait, which he always carried 
with him, broke in his hands. He grcAY frightfully 
pale, and suffered the keenest alarm. 'Marmont,' 
he said to me, ' my Avife is either ill or unfaithful.' " 

The excitement of war, so far from distracting 
Bonaparte from his love, rendered him only more 
ardent, eager, and enthusiastic. His impetuous na- 
ture could easily be moved by tAvo passions at once, — 
by his love for his Avife and his loA'^e of glory. The 
perpetual restlessness in Avhich he lived made him a 
ready victim of the tender passion. In his desires 
there was an impatient, imperious, despotic quality. 
He could no more understand a woman's resistance 
than the failure to win a victory. He summoned 
Josephine; consequently, Josephine must hasten to 
him. Rather a lover than a husband, he had passed 
but forty-eight hours Avith her since their marriage, 
and all his sentiment had been aroused, Avithout being 
satiated. The careless Creole, who was unaccustomed 
to such transports, Avas perhaps more surprised than 
delighted by them. 

M. Lanfrey has, in our opinion, given a very exact 
account of the different feelings of Josephine and 
her husband at this time, when he says, speaking of 
Napoleon's love for his wife : "In this love, Avhich has 
been said to be the only one that touched his heart, 
all the fire and flame of his masterful nature showed 
itself. As for Josephine, in his presence she felt 
more embarrassment and surprise than love. The 



MADAME BONAPARTE'S ARRIVAL IN ITALY. 37 



very genius which she saw glowing in his piercing 
and commanding eye exercised over her amiable and 
indolent nature a sort of fascination Avhich she could 
not feel without a secret terror, and before yielding 
to it she wondered more than once whether the ex- 
traordinary self-confidence manifested in the general's 
most insignificant words might not be merely the 
result of a young man's presumption which might 
easily be destined to bitter disappointment." 

Without doubt she Avas much flattered by Bona- 
parte's early successes, but, as Marmont points out, 
"she preferred enjoying her husband's triumphs in 
Paris to joining him." To her it was a serious mat- 
ter to leave her children, her relatives, and her life 
in Paris, so admirably suited to her kindly, amiable, 
affectionate but withal somewhat light and frivolous 
nature. She liked that amusing and brilliant city, 
which, though still shorn of its former animation, was 
yet busy and charming. The theatres, which at that 
time were crowded, the drawing-rooms, which were 
slowly reopening, the elegance and courtly manners 
of the old regime, which were appearing anew, the 
palace of the Directory, — all these things pleased 
Josephine. As the poet Arnault says in his Souvenirs 
of a Sexagenarian : " The Terror, which had so long 
made Paris its prey, was followed by a period of 
almost absolute indifference with regard to every- 
thing except pleasure. By enjoyment of the present, 
society anticipated the future and made up for the 
past. The Luxembourg, of which the five Directors 



38 CITIZENESS BONAPARTE. 

had taken possession, had already become what will 
always be the place where authority rules, — a court ; 
and since it was open to women, they had introduced 
softer manners. The Republicans began to abandon 
their brutal ways and to see that gallantry was not 
wholly incompatible with politics, and that indeed 
skill might be shown in employing it as a way of 
retaining power. The entertainments in which ladies 
resumed the empire from which they had been driven 
during the long reign of the Convention, showed 
clearly that those in power thought less of destroying 
the old customs than of imitating them. 

Besides, all Madame Bonaparte's friends never ^ 
tired of telling her that her place was not in Italy ; 
that the war had only begun ; that she should leave 
the victorious general entirely to his military affairs, 
his campaign plans, his strategy; and that a young 
wife was not intended to take part in all the tumult 
of a fight or the disorderliness' of a camp. M. Aube- 
nas, in his excellent History of the Empress Josephine^ 
says : " Madame Bonaparte has been severely criti- 
cised for not hastening to Italy in the month of 
April, at her husband's first summons, before the 
victory of Lodi and the subjection of Lombardy: 
but frankl}^, it was only her husband, whose genius 
inspired him with confidence in his success, whose 
love scorned every obstacle, who could have imag- 
ined such excessive haste. Certainly, in the early 
wars of the Republic, it was not usual to see the 
general's wives following the armies. Prudence and 



MABAME BONAPARTE'S ARRIVAL IN ITALY. 39 

regulations, for obvious reasons, forbade such a course. 
We have no intention of carving an image of Jose- 
phine as a Roman heroine. To start out thus at once 
to face all the fatigues and uncertainty of a great 
war, to bivouac in the Italian towns, in a word, to 
undertake the campaign, was an extreme demand to 
make of this Creole nature in which indifference was 
a fault as well as a charm." 

Bonaparte could not tolerate such hesitation. In 
order to persuade his wife to come to him, he wrote 
a mass of letters, each more urgent than its prede- 
cessor. The men of the old regime, who had paid 
attention to Josephine, would probably have smiled 
at the style and the manner. That a husband should 
love his wife in that way would probably have 
seemed to them a little vulgar. To be sure, they 
used to read the Nouvelle Ilelo'ise^ but nevertheless 
they had not formed the habit of writing to their 
legal wives tirades and hyperboles in imitation of 
Jean Jacques. Alexander de Beauharnais had not pre- 
pared his wife for love of this sort, which the fash- 
ionable society of Versailles might have regarded as 
proper for lovers, but absurd from a husband to his 
wife. Madame Bonaparte did not take seriously her 
husband's torrents of passion. As Arnault says : 
"Murat gave to Madame Bonaparte a letter in which 
the young hero urged her speedy departure ; she 
showed me this letter, as well as all he had written 
since leaving her, and all expressed the most violent 
passion. Josephine found a good deal of amusement 



40 CITIZEN ESS BOJSfAPABTE. 



in this feeling, which was not devoid of jealousy. I 
seem to hear her once more reading one passage in 
which her husband, in the effort to allay the suspi- 
cions which evidently tortured him, said, ' But sup- 
pose it true ! Fear Othello's dagger ! ' I hear her 
say with her creole accent, while she smiles, ' How 
funny Bonaparte is ! '" 

Madame de Remusat, unfavorable as she is to 
Napoleon, and with every disposition to deny him 
any trace of tenderness, is nevertheless compelled to 
make this acknowledgment in her Memoirs : " For 
Josephine he felt some affection, and if he was at 
times moved, it was only for her and by her. Even 
a Bonaparte cannot escape every feeling." Yes; 
Bonaparte knew the force of love. I ask no other 
proof than the letter full of real eloquence and 
ardent passion which he wrote to Josephine from 
Tortona, June 15, 1796, and which at last induced 
her to join a husband who loved her madly. Per- 
haps there are traces here and there of Jean Jacques 
Rousseau's declamatory eloquence, but still in this 
volcanic style, emotion and truth and accents of 
sincere conviction are very manifest. 

" Tortona, Midday, the 27th Prairial, Year IV. of the 
Republic [June 15, 1796]. 

"To Josephine. 

" My life is a perpetual nightmare. A black pre- 
sentiment makes breathing difficult. I am no longer 
alive ; I have lost more than life, more than happi- 



I 



I 



MADAME BONAPARTE'S ARRIVAL IN ITALY. 41 

ness, more than peace ; I am almost without hope. 
I am sending you a courier. He will stay only four 
hours in Paris, and then will bring me your answer. 
Write to me ten pages ; that is the only thing that 
can console me in the least. You are ill ; you love 
me ; I have distressed you ; you are with child ; and 
I don't see you. This thought overwhelms me. 
[Symptoms which amounted to nothing had in fact 
delayed Josephine's departure for Italy, and her 
husband reproached himself for having been unkind 
to her.] I have treated you so ill that I do not 
know how to set myself right in your eyes. I have 
been blaming you for staying in Paris, and you have 
been ill there. Forgive me, my dear ; the love with 
which you have filled me has robbed me of my 
reason, and I shall never recover it. It is a malady 
from which there is no recovery. My forebodings 
are so gloomy that all I ask is to see you, to hold 
you in my arms for two hours, and that we may die 
together. Who is taking care of you? I suppose 
that you have sent for Hortense ; I love the dear 
child a thousand times better since I think that she 
may console you a little. As for me, I am without 
consolation, rest, and hope until I see again the mes- 
senger whom I am sending to you, and until you 
explain to me in a long letter just what is the matter 
with you and how serious it is. If there were any 
danger, I warn you that I should start at once for 
Paris. ... I have always been fortunate ; never 
has my fate opposed my wishes, and to-day I am 



42 CITIZENS SS BONAPARTE. 

wounded when alone : I am sensitive. . . . With no 
appetite, unable to sleep, having lost all interest in 
friendship, in glory, in my country. You! you! and 
the rest of the world will not exist for me any more 
than if it had been annihilated. I care for honor, 
because you care for it , for victory, because it brings 
you pleasure : otherwise I should have abandoned 
everything to throw myself at your feet." 

Walter Scott says, in his Life of Napoleon : "A part 
of his correspondence with his bride has been pre- 
served, and gives a curious picture of a temperament 
as fiery in love as in war. The language of the con- 
queror, who was disposing states at his pleasure and 
defeating the most celebrated commanders of his 
time, is as enthusiastic as that of an Arcadian." 

The last lines of the letter we have quoted above 
certainly confirm the great novelist's remark : " My 
dear, do remember to tell me that you are certain 
that I love you more than can be imagined , that you 
are convinced that my every moment is devoted to 
you ; that no hour passes that I do not think of you ; 
that it has never entered my mind to think of any other 
woman ; that to me they all lack grace, beauty, and 
intelligence ; that you, you as I see you, as you are, 
can please me and absorb my whole soul ; that you 
have wholly filled it ; that my heart has no corners 
that you do not see, no thoughts that are not subordi- 
nate to you ; that my strength, my arms, my intelli- 
gence, are all yours ; that my soul is in your body ; 
and that the day when you shall have changed or 



MABAME BONAPABTE'S ARBIVAL IN ITALY. 43 

shall have ceased to live will be the day of my 
death ; that nature, the earth, is beautiful in my 
e3^es only because you live on it. If you do not 
believe that, if your soul is not convinced, penetrated, 
you distress me, you do not love me. There is a mag- 
netic fluid between two persons who are in love. You 
know that I could never endure to see you in love 
with any one, still less endure that you should have 
a lover ; to tear out his heart and to see him would 
be one and the same thing, and then, if I could raise 
my hand against your sacred person — No ! I should 
never dare, but I should at once abandon a life in 
which the most virtuous being in the world had de- 
ceived me." This letter, in which his jealousy thus 
breaks forth, ends with an outburst of confidence and 
enthusiasm : " I am certain and proud of your love. 
Our misfortunes are trials which only strengthen the 
force of our passion. A child as lovely as its mamma 
will one day be born to you. Wretch that I am, I 
only ask one day. A thousand kisses on your eyes, 
your lips. Adorable woman, how great a power you 
have over me I I am ill with thy complaint I I have 
again a burning fever ! Don't delay the courier more 
than six hours, and let him return at once with the 
dear letter of my queen." 

Josephine could not withstand this appeal. She 
was quite recovered, and she was to be installed in 
splendor at Milan. Nevertheless, according to one 
of her intimate friends, the poet Arnault, she felt 
very sad at leaving Paris. He speaks thus about this 



44 CITIZEN ESS BONAPABTE. 

delicate matter in his curious and witty Memoirs: 
" Josepliine was evidently flattered by the love with 
which she inspired so wonderful a man as Bonaparte, 
although she treated the matter much more lightly 
than he ; she was proud to see that he loved her as 
much as he loved glory ; she enjoyed this glory, which 
was growing every day, but she preferred enjoying 
it in Paris, amid the applause which always followed 
her with every new bulletin from the Army of Italy. 
Her grief was extreme when she saw that she could 
no longer postpone her departure. She thought much 
more of what she was leaving than of wdiat she was 
going to find, and she would have given the palace 
at Milan that was made ready for her, — she would 
have given all the palaces in the world for her house 
in the rue Chantereine, for the little house she had 
just bought of Talma. ... It was from the Luxem- 
bourg that she started for Italy, after supping there 
with some of her friends, of whom I was one. . . . 
Poor woman ! she burst into tears, and sobbed as if 
she were going to her execution : she was going to 
reign." 

The passport which the Directory gave to Madame ^ 
Bonaparte bore the date of June 24, 1796. A few 
days afterwards she reached Milan, entering the city 
in a carriage in which were her brother-in-law Joseph, 
Junot, her husband's aide-de-camp, and a young officer 
named Hippolyte Charles, a captain on the staff of 
Adjutant-General Leclerc. The Duke of Serbelloni, 
who had gone to meet her at the gates of the city, 



MADAME BONAPARTE'S ARRIVAL IN ITALY. 45 

followed in a second carriage. Unfortunately, when 
she arrived, Bonaparte was away on some military 
duty, and it was not for several days that he had the 
pleasure of seeing her. Marmont, who had been sent 
on ahead of Josephine, and had seen the numerous 
attentions paid to her by the Sardinian court, as she 
passed through Piedmont, says of the meeting of the 
happy couple : " Once at Milan, General Bonaparte 
was very happy, for then he lived only for his wife ; 
for a long time this had been the case : never did a 
purer, truer, or more exclusive love fill a man's heart, 
or the heart of so extraordinary a man." 



V. 



JOSEPHINE AT THE WAR. 



BONAPARTE'S condition had been greatly 
changed since he had parted from Josephine, 
and she must have been greatly surprised at seeing 
the position he occupied. Great results had been 
obtained, and he wore an air of victorious superiority, 
such as belonged to but few kings or princes. The 
archduke who had ruled over Lombardy a few weeks 
earlier had been far from possessing such authority. 
Bonaparte did not occupy the archduke's palace, 
lest he should offend the republican susceptibilities 
of the Directory ; but he had a truly princely resi- 
dence, the palace of a great and noble patriot of 
Milan, the Duke of Serbelloni. He had just been 
negotiating as an equal with the King of Sardinia, 
the Pope, the Duke of Modena, and the Grand Duke 
of Tuscany. Venice and Genoa had just been over- 
come by force and political manoeuvring; Rome and 
Naples had been detached from the coalition ; Upper 
Italy freed from the Austrian yoke ; the most won- 
derful masterpieces of antiquity had been sent to 
Paris as part of the booty of the campaign: these 
were the marvels wrought in a very few days. 

46 



JOSEPHINE AT THE WAB. 47 

From the Alps to the Apennines, from the moun- 
tains of Tyrol to Vesuvius, the whole peninsula 
resounded with the name of Bonaparte. But he had 
to sustain this brilliant role, and preserve the glory 
he had so swiftly acquired. Austria was raising 
armies much superior in numbers to the force they 
were to meet. The Pope and the Neapolitan court 
were most ardently devoted to the success of the 
Austrians. At the first reverse of the young con- 
queror this framework of power which he had built 
up so gloriously would fall to the ground like a card 
house. Liberal ideas were then only on the surface 
in Italy; below them ruled the spirit of reaction. 
He could not count on Venice, where the old aris- 
tocracy was full of uneasiness ; nor on the King of 
Sardinia, who yearned for revenge ; nor on the King 
of Naples, whose wife was the sister of Queen Marie 
Antoinette ; nor on the Grand Duke of Tuscany, who 
was an Austrian Archduke ; nor on the Republic of 
Genoa, with its oligarchy in the pay of England ; nor 
on the Pope, who looked only with horror on an 
army of Jacobins. In short, everything had to be 
done over again ; and no sooner had he had the joy 
of seeing his wife than he was compelled to leave 
her again for the wars. His love was so impetuous 
that he even determined to take Josephine with him. 
This was an unheard-of innovation ; but Bonaparte 
was not accustomed to imitating others : he did only 
what seemed good to him. 

He left Milan to try to capture Mantua before the 



48 CITIZENESS BONAPARTE. 

arrival of the army commanded by Wurmser, and, 
July 6, 1796, wrote from Roverbella to Josephine, 
who had stayed in Milan: " I have beaten the enemy; 
Kilmaine will send you a copy of my report. I am 
dead tired. I beg of you to go at once to Yerona: 
I need you, for I believe I am going to be ill. I 
send you a thousand kisses. I am in bed." July 
11, there is another letter, from Verona : " I had 
hardly left Roverbella when I learned that the 
enemy was appearing before Verona. Massena made 
the preparations, wdiich turned out most fortunately. 
We have taken six hundred prisoners and captured 
their cannon. General Brune had seven bullets 
through his clothes, but not a scratch: that's good 
luck. I send you a thousand kisses. I am very well. 
We had only ten killed and a hundred wounded." 
July 17, Bonaparte wrote from Marmirolo to Jose- 
phine a letter worthy of the most ardent lover : " I 
have received your letter, my dear one, and it fills my 
heart with joy. I am very grateful to you for your 
trouble in sending me Avord about yourself: you 
ought to be better to-day. I am sure that you must 
be quite well. I beg of you to ride on horseback ; it 
can't fail to do you good. Since I left you I have 
been continually sad. My only hapjDiness is to be 
wdth you. I am continually recalling your kisses, 
your tears, your kind jealousy, and the fair Jose- 
phine's charms are forever kindling a blazing fire in 
my heart and my senses. When, free from all un- 
easiness and all business, shall I be able to pass all 



JOSEPHINE AT THE WAR. 49 

my time with you, to have nothing to do but to love 
you, and to think of nothing but of the happiness of 
telling and proving it to you? I will send you your 
horse, but I hope that you will soon be able to join 
me." 

The letter concludes with an outburst of enthusi- 
astic passion: "A few days ago I thought I loved^ 
you; but since I have seen you I feel that I love you 
a thousand times more. Since I have known you, I 
adore you every day more: this proves that what 
La Bruydre says about love coming in a flash, is 
false. Everything in nature has its course and dif- 
ferent stages of growth. Ah ! I beg of you let me 
see some of your faults! Be less beautiful, less 
graceful, less tender, less kind; above all, be never 
jealous, never weep : your tears rob me of my reason ; 
they fire my blood. Be sure that it is not in my 
power to have a thought which is not yours or an 
idea which does not refer to you. Rest well ; be 
strong soon. Come to me and let us at least be able 
to say before we die. So many days we were happy ! 
Millions of kisses, and even to Fortune, in spite of 
his crossness." Fortune was Josephine's lap-dog. 

July 18, there was another letter, also written at 
Marmirolo : " I have spent the whole night under 
arms. I should have taken Mantua by a bold and 
lucky blow, had not the water of the lake fallen so 
rapidly that my column, which had embarked, could 
not get there. This evening I am going to try again, 
a different plan. ... I have a letter from Eugene, 



50 CITIZEN ESS BONAPARTE. 

which. I enclose. I beg of you to write for me to the 
dear children, and to send them some trinkets. Tell 
them that I love them as if they were my own chil- 
dren. Yours and mine are so mingled in my heart 
that tliere is no difference. I am very anxious to 
know how you are and what you are doing. I have 
been to Virgil's village, on the banks of the lake, in 
the silvery light of the moon, and there was not a 
moment when I did not think of Josephine." 

Michelet, in his volume entitled Until the 18th 
Brumaire, comments as follows on this sentence : 
" In the course of the siege of Mantua, Bonaparte 
said to Josephine in a sentimental letter, which bears 
all the marks of the taste of the time, that while think- 
ing of her, in melancholy revery, he had visited Vir- 
gil's village on the lake in the moonlight. It was 
doubtless then that he conceived the notion of the 
festival in honor of the great poet, which he ordered 
later, and which was of great service to him with 
society, nurtured in worship of the classics. In 
engravings we often see the hero of Italy near Vir- 
gil's tomb and under the shadow of his laurel." 

Whatever may be said, there was a tender and sen- 
timental chord in Napoleon's character. " Nature had 
given him," says the Duke of Ragusa in his Memoirs, 
" a grateful and kindly, I might almost say sensitive, 
heart. This assertion will contradict many fixed but 
inaccurate opinions. His sensitiveness evaporated in 
time, but in the course of my writing I shall narrate 
incidents and give undeniable proofs of the accuracy 



JOSEPHINE AT THE WAR. 51 

of my opinion." Napoleon was fond of poetry. It 
was he who said at Saint Helena, " Imagination rules 
the world." In literature, nothing ever seemed to 
him high enough, ideal enough. His whole child- 
hood was passed in ardent meditation upon the poets 
and great men. He was equally interested in Homer 
and Alexander, in Virgil and Csesar. As a student 
of Plutarch and Jean Jacques Rousseau, he belonged 
to the idealist school, and he admired everything 
great, everything beautiful. He loved love as he 
loved glory ; that is to say, without bounds. The 
style of his proclamations and bulletins harmonizes 
with that of his love-letters. As hero or as lover, he 
is always the same man. 

Bonaparte wrote again from Marmirolo, July 19 : 
" I have not heard from you for two days ; I have 
said this same thing thirty times to-day ; you will see 
that this is very gloomy ; nevertheless, you cannot 
doubt of the tender and single interest you inspire 
me with. Yesterday we attacked Mantua. We set 
it on fire with two batteries firing red-hot balls and 
shells. The unhappy city burned all night. It was a 
horrible and impressive sight. We have got possession 
of many of the outlying works, and open our trenches 
to-night. I am to transfer headquarters to Casti- 
glione to-morrow, and I mean to sleep there. I have 
received a courier from Paris. There were two let- 
ters for you ; I have read them. Nevertheless, although 
this act seems to me perfectly simple, and you gave 
me free leave the other day, I fear that you may 



52 CITIZENESS BONAPARTE. 

be annoyed, and this thought distresses me much. 
I should have liked to seal them again. Fie ! that 
would have been disgraceful. If I am to blame, I 
beg your pardon ; I give you my word that I was not 
moved by jealousy : no, certainly, I respect my dear 
one too much for that. I wish you would give me 
absolute permission to read your letters ; then I should 
suffer from neither remorse nor fear. Achille has 
come with despatches from Milan ; no letters from 
my dear one ! Farewell, my only love ! When can 
we meet? I shall come to Milan myself to get you. 
A thousand kisses, as Avarm as my heart, as pure as 
you are. I have had the courier summoned: he tells 
me that he called on you, and that you said you had 
nothing for him. Shame ! wicked, ugly, cruel tyrant ; 
pretty little monster ! You laugh at my threats, at 
my foolishness ; ah, if I only could put you in my 
heart, you know I should lock you up there ! Tell 
me that you are happy, well, and very loving." 

From Castiglione, Bonaparte wrote to Josephine, 
July 21 : "I hope that I shall find a letter from you 
when I arrive this evening. You know, dear Jose- 
phine, what pleasure your letters give me ; and I 
am sure you like to write them. I leave, this even- 
ing, for Peschiera and Verona; then I shall go to 
Mantua, and possibly to Milan, to get a kiss, since 
you assure me they are not of ice. I hope to find 
you perfectly recovered, and that you will be able to 
go to headquarters with me, and not to leave me 
again. Are you not the soul of my life and the 



JOSEPHINE AT THE WAR. 53 

passion of my heart? Good by, lovely and kind 
creature, without a rival, you dear goddess ; a thou- 
sand loving kisses ! " 

But Wurmser was advancing. Bonaparte could 
not go to Milan for Josephine ; but he persuaded her 
to join him, by means of this letter from Castiglione, 
July 22 : " The army requires my presence here ; it 
is quite impossible for me to go so far away as Milan. 
That would take five or six days ; and in that time 
something might happen which would make my 
presence indispensable. You tell me you are per- 
fectly well ; then, I beg of you to come to Brescia. 
I am sending Murat to prepare a lodging for you 
there, such as you want. I think you would do well 
to rest on the 6th [Thermidor], and to leave Milan 
very late, reaching Brescia on the 7th, where the 
most devoted of lovers will be awaiting you. I am 
sorry that you can imagine, my dear one, that my 
heart has room for any one besides you : it belongs 
to you by right of conquest, and this conquest will 
be solid and eternal. I don't know why you men- 
tion Madame T., in whom I take very little interest, 
as in the women of Brescia. As to those letters 
which you are sorry I opened, this one shall be 
the last; your letter had not reached me. Good 
by, my dear; let me hear from you often. Come 
speedily to me ; be happy and perfectly easy : all is 
going on well, and my heart is yours for life. Don't 
fail to return to Adjutant-General Miollis the box of 
medals that he wrote to me he had given to you. 



54 CITIZENESS BONAPARTE. 



Mankind is so malicious and gossiping that one cannot 
be too careful. Be well, love me, and come soon to 
Brescia. At Milan, I have a carriage for both town 
and country use : you will use that for your journey. 
Bring what silverware you need, -and whatever may 
be necessary. Travel slowly, and in the cool of the 
day, to avoid getting tired. It takes the soldiers only 
three days to go to Brescia. You can post for four- 
teen hours of the way. I advise you to sleep, the 
6th, at Cassano : I will go as far as I can to meet 
you, on the 7th. Good by, dear Josephine ! a thou- 
sand loving kisses." 

By thus calling his wife to him, in time of war, 
between two battles, Bonaparte seemed to be doing 
something very rash ; yet — for at that time he was 
always successful — he perhaps owed his safety to 
this apparently unjustifiable resolution. Josephine 
seemed his good angel. We may say that through- 
out his career, so long as he was with her, he always 
enjoyed the most brilliant success. A gambler — 
and politics is a game, like almost all other human 
things — would say that she brought him good luck. 

Josephine did not fail to meet him at Brescia, as 
he had appointed ; but scarcely had they got there 
when, July 28, they had to leave. Wurmser had 
received word of the critical condition of Mantua, 
and had hastened his march some eight or ten days, 
which compelled the French army to hasten in its 
turn. General de Segur says in his Memoirs : " To 
picture the disorder, the urgent peril into which 



JOSEPHINE AT THE WAR. 55 

Wurmser's double attack at first threw Bonaparte, 
let us listen to Josephine herself, who used to take 
pleasure in telling us how, when the movement 
began, she was quietly in Brescia, and the provedi- 
tore was trying to tempt her to stay one night longer, 
by proposing a grand entertainment. It was she, 
she told me, who refused so obstinately that she per- 
suaded Bonaparte to leave at once. This happy 
inspiration saved them. They were not four leagues 
from Brescia when the Austrians, in league with the 
proveditore, entered in large force. Bonaparte would 
have been captured at the ball, and either put to 
death or made prisoner of war." 

The next day Josephine was of no less service to 
her husband. At dawn the two reached a castle 
close to Verona, escorted by twenty men at the most ; 
there they were assailed by other forces of the enemy 
who had come down the Adige. Josephine's eyes, 
which were better than her husband's, had given her 
notice of this new danger, and he fancied that he 
saved her from it by sending her to the shores of 
Lake Garda. But there, on the other hand, she 
was greeted by new bullets from a hostile flotilla 
which controlled the lake. Abandoning her carriage, 
she mounted a horse and fled to Peschiera, where 
Bonaparte, who had received word, sent for her. 
She rejoined him at Castiglione. At every step she 
came across soldiers wounded in the skirmishes pre- 
ceding the great battles. 

Bonaparte, seeing her in such peril, decided to 



56 CITIZEN ESS BONAPARTE. 

make her return to Brescia; but Josephine was 
stopped by a division of the enemy which had 
already reached Ponte Marco on its way towards 
Lonato. She was obliged to retrace her steps and 
to return to Castiglione, where Bonaparte still was. 
" At that time," says the Memorial of Saint Helena^ 
" in the anxiety and excitement of the moment, she 
was frightened and wept much." When Bonaparte 
heard that the Austrians had entered Brescia and 
that his communications with Milan were cut off, he 
sent his wife to Central Italy, making her pass before 
Mantua, which was still besieged by the French. 
Moved by the sorrow she showed in parting from 
him, he said, " Wurmser will have to pay dear for 
the tears he has caused you." 

Since his marriage Bonaparte had passed but very 
few days with Josephine, and his love for her pro- 
duced a certain excitement which made him ready to 
do great things. His wife's tears moved him deeply. 
" I shall console her," he said to himself, " she shall 
have every joy and glory. To that face now wet 
with tears I shall bring, the glow of happiness." 
The climate of Italy, the bright sun, the clear sky, 
the summer heat, the excitement of war, the smell 
of powder, the fierceness of the conflict, the ardor of 
youth, all combined to fire the vivid imagination of 
the hero. He has reached one of those periods in 
the careers of great men, when they feel themselves 
lifted above the earth by a supernatural breath, and 
they are moved by a mysterious force, as if they 



JOSEPHINE AT THE WAB. 57 

were divinely inspired. Men of action and artists 
know those privileged moments when they become 
capable of wonders. With the character that he 
possessed, Bonaparte could not appear before Jose- 
phine as a beaten man. He wanted to dazzle, to 
fascinate her, to wring from her cries of admiration, 
to cover her with glory. If he had been beaten, he 
would have scorned all pity and consolation. His 
patriotism and his love fired him with the determi- 
nation to triumph. His nature, already compact of 
energy, renewed its strength and audacity, and he 
was irresistible. It was when he saw Josephine in 
tears that love, ambition, pride, and hunger for 
victory took possession of his soul and gave to his 
genius a fire, an impulse, a development, such as it is 
hard to conceive. He said : " I shall see her again, 
and it will be when I shall have triumphed." Hence 
he had to conquer at any price. He wished victory 
for the sake of France and for the sake of Josephine. 
That day he had no mistrust of fortune ; he believed 
in his lucky star more firmly than ever. A secret 
voice said to him, '' Forward ! " Josephine herself 
must have been reassured by her husband's eagle 
glance. The six days' campaign was about to open. 
A woman's love was the talisman with which Bona- 
parte was about to work miracles. 

Nevertheless, Josephine was in flight, passing in 
her carriage very near to besieged Mantua. She was 
fired on from the town, and some of her escort were 
hit. General de Segur narrates what she herself told 



58 CITIZENESS BONAPARTE. 

him that, as they were passing by within gunshot, 
the firing was so hot that she was obliged to take 
refuge in a chapeL A soldier ran up to urge them 
to leave, showing them some Austrian cannon aimed 
at that dangerous place. In fact, she had scarcely 
got away before the cannon-balls destroyed the 
building. She crossed the Po, and reached Lucca, 
going through Bologna and Ferrara, " pursued," says 
the Memorial of Saint Helena^ " by fear and all the 
evil rumors which generally accompanied our armies, 
yet supported by her confidence in her husband's 
star. Already such was the state of public opinion 
in Italy and such the feeling inspired by the French 
general, that, in spite of the dangers of the moment 
and all the false rumors that were current, his wife 
was received at Lucca by the Senate and treated like 
a great princess : it went to congratulate her and pre- 
sented her with gifts of precious oils. It was justi- 
fied in these rejoicings, for a few days later messages 
announced her husband's wonderful successes and 
the total defeat of Wurmser." Just when she had 
crossed the Po, and put that river between herself 
and Wurmser's uhlans, Josephine received a letter 
from Bonaparte, dated August 4, in which, discount- 
ing the future, he announced to her, as already won, 
the victory of the next day. 




YI. 



BETWEEN CASTIGLIONE AND AP.COLE. 

T Wurmser's approach, Bonaparte exclaimed, 
" We are now to watch each other ; bad luck 
to him who makes a mistake ! " Bonaparte made no 
mistake. His army consisted of only forty-two thou- 
sand men ; that of his adversary, of sixty thousand. 
The foes of France uttered cries of joy. At Venice, 
the soldiers thronged the public places and held out 
their hands to the passers-by, asking for the price of 
the French blood which they were about to shed. 
At Rome, the French agents were insulted. The 
court of Naples broke the armistice. Italy was called 
the grave of the French. On hearing that the Aus- 
trians were about to cross the Adige at every point, 
that retreat on Milan was cut off, that the position at 
Rivoli was to be forced as well as at Corona, Bona- 
parte, July 3, called a council of war. The generals 
favored a retreat. Augereau alone held out for 
fighting: this was also- Bonaparte's opinion. 

The town of Castiglione, which lies ten leagues 
to the northeast of Mantua, and three leagues 
south of Lonato, is within reach of two Tyrolese 

59 



60 CITIZENESS BONAPARTE. 



passes, — that of the Aclige, to the eastward of 
Lake Garcia, and that of the west shore of this 
hike. Although the enemy had forced the line of 
the Adige, the position was so favorable that it pre- 
sented many advantages to a man of Bonaparte's 
audacious genius. Raising the siege of Mantua, 
because he knew that in moments of great peril, to 
try to save everything is the sure way to lose every- 
thing, he concentrated all his forces at the end of 
the lake. Then, pursuing his usual tactics, he, by 
his swift movements, doubled his strength, and 
wherever he gave battle it was Avith equal or supe- 
rior force. Successful at Lonato, August 3d, and on 
the 5th at Castiglione, he wrote on the 8th to the 
Directory that the Austrian army had vanished like 
a dream and that Italy was tranquil. Wurmser had 
just withdrawn, leaving ninety cannon, and twenty- 
five thousand picked men killed or captured. August 
9, Bonaparte wrote a letter thanking the city of 
Milan for remaining faithful to him: " The ardor and 
the character which the city has displayed," he said, 
"have won the esteem and the love of France; its 
population, which is ever becoming more energetic, 
becomes every day more worthy to be free: some 
day, without doubt, it will enter on the stage of the 
world with glory." Marmont wrote to his father: 
"In the last week I have not slept four hours. 
There are none of the enemy left for us to fight 
with, and we are going, I hope, to enjoy our triumphs." 
Bonaparte, who had returned to Brescia August 10, 



BETWEEN CASTIGLIONE AND ABCOLE. 61 

wrote that same evening to Josephine, who, after the 
victory at Castigiione, had been able to return to 
Milan without difficulty. " I have just arrived, and 
my first thought is to write to you. All the way I 
have been thinking of nothing but your health and 
your image. I shall not be easy till I have heard 
from you. I am waiting impatiently ; I can't express 
my uneasiness. I left you sad, depressed, and half 
ill. If the sincerest and tenderest love can make you 
happy, you must be so. . . . I am up to my ears 
in work. Good by, my sweet Josephine ; love me 
well, keep well, and think of me often." 

After renewing the siege of Mantua, Bonaparte 
went to Milan, where he spent a fortnight with his 
wife. Wurmser, who had fled to the Tyrol, wanted 
to resume the offensive ; and Austria was about to 
raise a new army, that of Alvinzy. Bonaparte had 
to begin the campaign once more. He left Josephine 
at Milan, and started again for the war with that 
untiring zeal which was the amazement and the 
despair of his enemies. All these preoccupations, 
dangers, and battles could not distract him from his 
love, which was continually growing in intensity. It 
was a perpetual fever. When he had reached Bres- 
cia, he wrote to Josephine, August 31: "I leave at 
once for Verona. I had hopes of finding a letter from 
you; this leaves me in horrible anxiety. You were 
not very well before I left ; I beg of you, don't leave 
me in such anxiety. You had promised to be more 
thoughtful ; yet your words then agreed with your 



62 CITIZEN ESS BONAPARTE. 

heart. . . . You, to whom nature has given sweet- 
ness, gentleness, and every attractive quality, how 
can you forget one who loves you so warmly ? Three 
days without a word from you^ and I have written to 
you several times. This absence is horrible ; the 
nights are long, tiresome, dull ; the days are monot- 
onous. To-day, alone with my thoughts, my work, 
my writing, with men and their tedious plans, I 
have not even one note from you to press against my 
heart. Headquarters have gone on ; I follow in an 
hour. I have received an express from Paris this 
evening ; there was nothing for you but the enclosed 
letter, which Avill give you pleasure. Think of me ; 
live for me ; be often with your loving one ; and 
believe that the only misfortune he dreads is to be 
loved no longer by Josephine. A thousand gentle, 
loving, exclusive kisses ! " 

Another letter, from Ala, September 3, 1796 : 
" We are in the midst of the campaign, my dear one ; 
we have overthrown the enemy's posts and have cap- 
tured eight or ten horses with as many men. I hope 
that we shall have good luck, and enter Trent the 
19th [Fructidor]. No letters from you, and this 
makes me really uneasy; still I hear that you are 
well, and that you have even been out sailing 
on Lake Como. I am impatiently expecting every 
day the courier with word from you ; you know how 
much I want to hear from you. I do not really live, 
away from you ; my life's happiness is only to be 
with my sweet Josephine. Think of me ! write to 



BETWEEN CASTIGLIONE AND ABCOLE. 63 

me often, very often : it is the only balm in absence, 
which is cruel, but I hope will be short." 

Bonaparte's soldiers rivalled the Alpine hunters in 
boldness and activity : they clambered over the rocks 
to the mountain tops, and thence sent a plunging fire 
upon the enemy below. The swiftness of their heroic 
deeds was most remarkable. September 4, the victory 
of Roveredo ; the 5th, entrance into Trent ; the pur- 
suit of Wurmser in the gorges of the Brenta ; the 
seizure of the defile of Primolano ; September 8th, 
the victory of Bassano. Two hours later, the suc- 
cessful general wrote to the Directory : " In six days 
we have fought two battles and four skirmishes ; we 
have taken twenty-one fiags from the enemy ; made 
sixteen thousand prisoners, including several gener- 
als ; the rest have been killed, wounded, or scattered 
to the four winds. In these six days, continually 
fighting in inexpugnable gorges, we have made forty- 
five leagues, captured seventy cannon with their 
caissons and horses, a great part of the ammunition, 
and large stores." 

September 10, Bonaparte wrote from Montebello 
to his wife : " My dear, the enemy has had eighteen 
thousand men taken prisoner : the rest are killed or 
wounded. Wurmser, with a column of five hundred 
horse and five thousand men, has no resource but 
to throw himself into Mantua. Never have we had 
such constant and important success. Italy, Trieste, 
and the Tyrol are secured for the Republic. The 
Emperor will have to raise a second army ; artillery, 



64 CITIZENESS BONAPARTE. 

pontoons, baggage, everything has been captured. 
In a few days we shall meet ; that is the sweetest 
reward of my fatigue and my cares. A thousand 
ardent and loving kisses." 

While Bonaparte was winning these astounding 
victories, what was Josephine's state of mind at 
Milan ? To tell the truth, Josephine was bored. M. 
Aubenas has published a letter which she wrote at 
this time to her aunt, Madame de Renaudin, who had 
just married the Marquis of Beauharnais. This letter, 
which has been preserved among the papers of the 
Tascher de la Pagerie family, betrays the melancholy 
which came over Josephine in her separation from her 
children and her Paris friends. The Duke of Serbel- 
loni who was going to Paris, was the bearer of this let- 
ter, which ran thus : " M. Serbelloni will tell you, my 
dear aunt, how I have been received in Italy, feted 
everywhere, all the Italian princes giving me enter- 
tainments, even the Grand Duke of Tuscany, the 
Emperor's brother. Well I I had rather be a simple 
private person in France. I don't like the honors of 
this country. I am frightfully bored. It is true that 
the state of my health has something to do with my 
low spirits ; I am often ailing. If happiness could 
make me well, I ought to be in the very best health ; 
I have the best husband that can be imagined. I have 
no chance to want anything. My wishes are his. He 
adores me all day long, as if I were a goddess ; there 
cannot be a better husband. M. Serbelloni will tell 
you how much I am loved. He often writes to my 



BETWEEN CASTIGLIONE AND ARCOLE. 65 

children ; he loves them much. He sends to Hor- 
tense, by M. Serbelloni a handsome watch, a repeater, 
enamelled and set in small pearls ; to Eugene, a fine 
gold watch. . . . Good by, my dear aunt, my dear 
mamma ; do not forget how much I love you. I shall 
try to send you a little money for the purpose you 
mentioned at the first opportunity." 

At the same time Josephine wrote to her daughter 
Hortense from Milan, September 6, 1796, as follows : 
"The Duke of Serbelloni is leaving for Paris, and 
has promised to go to Saint Germain, my dear Hor- 
tense, the day after his arrival. He will tell you how 
much I think and speak of and how much I love 
you ! Eugene also partakes of these feelings, my 
dear girl; I love you both very dearly. M. Serbelloni 
will bring you from Bonaparte and me some little 
souvenirs for you, Emilie, Eugene, and Jerome. Give 
my love to Madame Campan ; I am going to send her 
some fine engravings and drawings from Italy. Kiss 
my dear Eugene, Emilie, and Jerome for me. Good 
by, my dear Hortense, my dear girl. Think often 
of your mamma ; write to her often ; your letters 
and your brother's will console me for my absence 
from my dear children ; I kiss you affectionately." 

The untiring Bonaparte continued his victorious 
course. September 15, he compelled Wurmser to 
take refuge in Mantua. But amid all his successes, 
he was unhappy because Josephine's letters were too 
rare. He wrote to her, September 17, from Verona, 
this melancholy epistle ; " I write to you very often, 



CITIZEN ESS BONAPARTE. 



and you write very seldom. You are a wicked, ugly 
woman, as ugly as you are frivolous. It is a bit of 
perfidy to deceive a husband, a doting lover, in tins 
way ! Must lie lose all liis rights because he is away, 
overwhelmed with work, fatigue, and trouble ? How 
can he help it ? Yesterday we had a very hot fight ; 
the enemy lost heavily and was thoroughly beaten. 
We captured the suburb of Mantua. Good by, dear 
Josephine. One of these nights your door will be 
burst open, as if a jealous husband were breaking in, 
and I shall be in your arms. A thousand loving 
kisses." 

A letter from Modena, October 17, is likewise 
filled with sadness. " Day before yesterday I was in 
the field all day. Yesterday I stayed in bed. A 
fever and a raging headache prevented me from 
writing to my dear one ; but I received her letters. 
I pressed them to my heart and my lips ; and the 
pang of absence, a hundred miles apart, vanished. 
At that moment, I saw you with me, — not capricious 
and vexed, but gentle, loving, with that grace of 
kindness which belongs to Josephine alone. It was 
a dream ; judge for yourself whether it relieved my 
fever. Your letters are as cold as fifty years of age ; 
one would think they had been written after we had 
been married fifteen years. They are full of the 
friendliness and feelings of life's winter. Shame ! 
Josephine. It is very Avicked, very bad, very traitor- 
ous of you. What more can you do to distress me ? 
Stop loving me ? That you have already done. Hate 



BETWEEN CASTIGLIONE AND AUG OLE. 67 

me ? Well, I wish you would : everything degrades 
me except hatred; but indifference with a calm 
pulse, fixed eyes, monotonous walk ! . . . A thou- 
sand kisses, tender, like my heart. I am a little 
better, and shall leave to-morrow. The English are 
evacuating the Mediterranean. Corsica is ours. 
Good news for France and for the army ! " 

Between Wurmser's entrance into Mantua, Sep- 
tember 18, and Alvinzy's arrival on the Brenta and 
the Adige, early in November, there was a respite in 
the military movements of about five or six v/eeks. 
During this time Bonaparte was opposing the policy 
of the Directory, which was hostile to his views, and 
failed to send him the necessary re-enforcements. 
The troops who had been often promised failed to 
arrive. There was no money to pay the soldiers. 
The Army of Italy was reduced to thirty-three thou- 
sand men : and it was with this insufficient force 
that he was expected to retake Corsica , control the 
whole peninsula ; besiege twenty-two thousand Aus- 
trians who had taken refuge in Mantua j intimidate 
the Roman and Neapolitan courts, which were driven 
to extremities by the unreasonable demands of the 
Directory; and, in addition, oppose the new and 
formidable Austrian force under the command of 
Alvinzy. 

Bonaparte became impatient. October 6, he wrote 
to the Directory : " Everything in Italy is going to 
ruin. The glory of our forces is fading away. Our 
numbers are counted. The influence of Rome is 



68 CITIZEN ESS BONAPARTE. 

incalculable. It was very unwise to break with that 
power. If I had been consulted on all that, I should 
have continued negotiations with Rome, as with 
Genoa and Venice. Whenever your general in Italy 
is not the centre of everything, you will run great 
risks. This language must not be ascribed to ambi- 
tion ; I have all the honors I want, and my health is 
so shattered that I fancy I shall have to ask to have 
some one put in my place." Was this demand sin- 
cere, or a feint ? And would Bonaparte have been 
pained if the Directory had taken him at his word? 
However this may be, he had already written to 
Carnot, August 9 : "If there is in France a single 
man, honest and true, who can suspect my political 
intentions, I at once resign the pleasure of serving 
my country. Three or four months of retirement 
will silence envy, restore my health, and enable me 
to fill to better advantage whatever position the 
government may entrust to me. When the time 
shall have come, it will only be by leaving the Army 
of Italy in season, that I shall be able to devote the 
rest of my life to the defence of the Republic. Not 
to let men grow old is the whole art of government. 
When I entered a public career, I adopted for my 
principle : Everything for my country ! I beg of 
you to believe in the feelings of esteem and friend- 
ship which I have avowed to you." 

When Alvinzy was advancing with an army of 
apparently overwhelming force, and nothing short 
of a miracle could save the French troops, the young 



BETWEEN CASTIGLIONE AND ARCOLE. 69 

commander -in- chief, who, for the first time per- 
haps, doubted of his star, possibly regretted that the 
Directory had not accepted his resignation. But the 
lot was thrown ! he had to try the impossible. Bona- 
parte was a man of dauntless audacity. He did not 
lose heart ; his genius grew with the danger. 



VII. 



AECOLE. 



AFTER a successful war it appears as if the 
victor had known no other feeling than joy, 
enthusiasm, and confidence. The mere name of the 
first Italian campaign calls up visions of zeal and tri- 
umph, and yet it was full of uncertainty and anxiety. 
Often everything seemed lost; often Bonaparte es- 
caped as if by a miracle. The hostile armies, which 
appeared one after another ; the perpetual dwindling 
of the heroic brigades ; the illness which continually 
afflicted the young commander-in-chief and filled him 
with despondency, — all that is forgotten before the 
glory of the results obtained, before the brilliancy of 
the victory. But Bonaparte's soul was torn by cease- 
less anxiety. What would be his place in history? 
Would he be called foolhardy or a hero ? This de- 
pended on his success. And on what did his success 
depend? If he were beaten, all the old-fashioned 
tacticians would turn him to ridicule and prove by 
mathematical reasoning that his plans were all wild 
visions, and that defeat was inevitable because he 
knew nothing of the art of war. In order to justify 
70 



ARCOLE. 71 

his self-confidence, he had to beat. His future de- 
pended on the numberless accidents which decide the 
issue of battles. At every moment of this memorable 
campaign he was on the edge of a precipice. A touch, 
and he was over. It is when we study the lives of the 
greatest men, the Csesars, the Alexanders, the Napo- 
leons, that we are most impressed with the insignifi- 
cance of human affairs and the very great importance 
of the most insignificant details of the most trivial 
incidents in the fate of republics and empires. There 
is an unknown force which mocks all human plans. 
The faithful call it Providence ; sceptics call it 
chance. But whatever its name, it exists everywhere. 
Almost all great geniuses are fatalists, because, when 
they examine their own triumphs, they see how small 
was their own part, and that often they have failed 
when, according to every reasonable view, they should 
have succeeded, and have succeeded when success was 
hopeless. But of these things public opinion takes 
no account. It cares for but one thing, — success ; 
and its favorites are those who have risked everything 
for everything, and won. 

When Alvinzy's army was advancing towards the 
Piave, Bonaparte had but thirty-six thousand men to 
oppose to sixty thousand, and they were exhausted by 
three campaigns and by the fevers which they caught in 
the rice-fields of Lombardy. Any one else would have 
despaired. November 5, he wrote to the Directory : 
" Everything suffers, and we are in face of the enemy ! 
The least delay may be fatal to us. We are on the 



72 CITIZEN ESS BONAPABTE. 

eve of great events. These delays are a terrible mis- 
fortune for us. All the troops of the Empire have 
reached their posts with surprising celerity, and we 
are left to ourselves. Fine promises and a few insig- 
nificant corps are all that we have received." 

After a few successes of the outposts, followed by 
several serious reverses, Bonaparte had been forced 
to a double retreat. His left wing, under the com- 
mand of Yaubois, had occupied Trent ; it was driven 
back on Corona and Rivoli. He himself, with seven- 
teen thousand men, had taken position before Verona, 
on the Brenta. He had been driven back into Verona, 
whence he wrote this brief letter to Josephine, No- 
vember 9 : " I reached Verona day before yesterday. 
Though I am tired, I am very well, very busy, always 
passionately devoted to you. My horse is waiting. 
A thousand kisses." November 11, he attacked 
Alvinzy again, but again he failed. The two divis- 
ions of Augereau and Massena tried, November 12, 
to capture the heights of Caldiero. The unfavorable 
weather, the numerical superiority of the enemy, the 
strength of their positions, all contributed to the ill- 
success of these two divisions, in spite of all their 
heroism. They were repulsed, and they withdrew 
into Verona. Then, perhaps for the first time, the 
valiant Army of Italy felt discouraged. Vaubois 
had not more than six thousand men. There were 
not more than thirteen thousand in Massena's and 
Augereau's divisions together. 

The soldiers sadly said : '' We can't alone do the 



t 



AECOLE. 73 

work of all. Alvinzy's army, which faces us, is the 
one before Avhich the armies of the Rhine and of 
the Sambre-et-Meuse retreated, and they are idle 
now : why should we have to do their work ? They 
don't send us any re-enforcements ; if we are beaten, 
we shall flee to the Alps, disgraced. If, on the other 
hand, we are victorious, of what use will the new 
victory be ? We shall be confronted with a new 
army like Alvinzy's, just as Alvinzy has succeeded 
Wurmser, and in this unceasing and unequal struggle 
we must be ruined in the end." 

The enemy were able to count the reduced forces 
of the French at their leisure. They felt confident of 
victory, and were already preparing the ladders with 
which they meant to scale the walls of Verona. Bona- 
parte's situation seemed desperate. Yet at this crit- 
ical moment, on the day after his defeat at Caldiero, 
November 13, he found time to write an affectionate 
and reproachful letter to Josephine : " I don't love 
you at all ; in fact, I hate you. You are horrid, 
clumsy, stupid, a perfect Cinderella. You never 
write to me ; you don't love your husband the least 
bit in the world ; you know what pleasure your let- 
ters give him, and you won't send him six lines ! 
What do you do all day? What is there serious 
enough to keep you from writing to your dear lover ? 
What affection kills and throws to one side the love, 
the tender and constant love, which you promised him? 
Who is this wonderful creature, this new lover, who 
takes all your time, rules all your days, and prevents 





74 CITIZENESS BONAPARTE. 

your writing to your husband ? Josephine, take care ; 
some fine night your door shall be burst open, and 
there I am. Seriously, I am uneasy, my dear, at not 
hearing from you. Write me four pages at once, and 
all sorts of loving things which will fill my heart with 
love and emotion. I hope soon to hold you in my 
arms, and I shall cover you with a million kisses as 
hot as the equator." 

Madame de Remusat, always disposed to deny 
Bonaparte any trace of feeling, and ready to main- 
tain that he was all intelligence, was, in spite of 
herself, struck by the passion which fills this corre- 
spondence. She says in her Memoirs : " I have seen 
some of Napoleon's letters to his wife written in the 
first Italian campaign. . . . These letters are very 
singular ; they are in an almost undecipherable hand- 
writing, they are badly spelt, the style is strange and 
confused. Yet they have such a passionate tone, they 
are so full of real feeling, they contain expressions 
so warm, and at the same time so poetical, that there 
never lived a woman who would not have been glad 
to receive just such letters. They form a striking 
contrast with the delicate and measured smoothness 
of the letters of M. de Beauharnais. Moreover, what 
a thing for a woman to see herself — at a time when 
men were controlled by politics — one of the inspir- 
ing causes of an army's triumphal march! On the 
eve of one of his great battles, Bonaparte wrote: 
'Here I am, far away from you! I seem to have 
fallen into the darkest shadows ; I need the fatal fire 



ARCOLE. 75 

of the thunderbolts which we are about to hurl on 
the enemy, to escape from the darkness into which 
your absence has cast me.' " 

Nevertheless the danger grew to be very serious. 
Some years later, Josephine told General de Segur, 
at Saint Cloud, that shortly before the battle of Arcole 
she had received a letter from Bonaparte in which he 
confessed that he had lost all hope, that everything 
was lost, and that everywhere the enemy was show- 
ing a force three times as large as his own ; that noth- 
ing was left him but his courage ; that probably he 
should lose the Adige ; that then he should fight for 
the Mincio ; and that this last position lost, he should, 
if alive, join Josephine at Genoa, whither he advised 
her to go. 

Foreseeing the disorder, the bloodshed even, of 
which her departure from Milan would be the signal, 
Josephine decided to stay there, and she continued 
her usual life, with no change in her habits, going to 
the theatre with death in her heart, but presenting a 
calm front, in spite of the threatening air of a part 
of the populace of Milan. For three nights Italians 
went frequently even into her bedroom, waking her 
up, under the pretext of asking for news, but evi- 
dently in expectation of her departure, in order that 
their revolt might not be delayed a moment. 

Before his men, Bonaparte assumed an air of per- 
fect confidence. Even when his soul was torn by 
the crudest distress and anxiety, his face remained 
impassible. At the very moment when he was prom- 



76 CITIZENESS BONAPABTE. 



ising his soldiers an early victory, he was writing to 
the Directory, November 14, an almost despairing 
letter: "Citizens Directors, I owe you an account 
of the operations which have taken place. If it is 
not satisfactory, you will not ascribe the fault to the 
army: its present inferiority and the exhaustion of 
its bravest men makes me dread the worst. It may 
be that we are about to lose all Italy ! None of 
the expected aid has reached us. ... I am doing 
my duty, and the same thing is true of the army. 
My soul is tortured, but my conscience is easy. . . . 
To-day, 24th Brumaire, the troops are resting. To- 
morrow our movements depend on the enemy; I 
have no hope of preventing the raising of the siege 
of Mantua, which was ours, in a Aveek. If this blow 
falls, we shall soon be behind the Adda, and further 
still, if no troops arrive. . . . The Arm}^ of Italy, 
which is reduced to a mere handful, is exhausted. 
The heroes of Lodi, Millesimo, Castiglione, and Bas- 
sano have either died for their country or are in the 
hospital. There is nothing left but their reputation 
and their pride. Joubert, Lannes, Lannusse, Murat, 
Dupuis, Rambau, Chabran, are Avounded. . . . The 
few who are left see death inevitable, amid such 
unending combats and with such inferior forces ! 
Possibly the hour of the brave Augereau, of the 
fearless Massena, of Berthier, is close at hand I 
Then what will become of all these brave men? 
This idea disturbs me. I no longer dare to face 
death, which would bring discouragement and mis- 



ABC OLE. 77 

ery to all over whom I keeu watch." The letter 
begins m what is almost despair ; it ends with hope- 
fulness : " In a few days we shall make onr final 
effort ! If fortune favors us, Mantua will be taken, 
and with it Italy ! Re-enforced by the army besieg- 
ing that town, there is nothing I would not under- 
take ! " 

Everything seemed to point to Bonaparte's failure ; 
but a secret voice whispered to him, " You will be 
saved ! " There are men to whom difficulties are 
but a stimulus, whom danger only makes bold. The 
abyss causes them no giddiness, but only reassures 
and encourages them. Before beginning the fight, 
the young general thought that he saw Josephine's 
imag-e. Like the knights of old who evoked the 
memory of their ladies before accomplishing their 
exploits, he derived an irresistible strength from 
the noble and chivalrous love that filled his heroic 
and poetic soul. It was a curious spectacle — this 
man amid the most engrossing occupations, yet hun- 
gering for love, and in the moment of the most im- 
minent peril consoling himself by expecting a kiss, 
a smile ! This impetuous genius, in the most terrible 
crisis of his career, found time to be jealous, and to 
suffer pangs of love ! After promising his wife vast 
power and endless glory, what would he not suffer 
if his career were to be checked now at the start ; 
if all these hopes were to be but a disappointment ; if 
the pretended great man should appear as a mere 
young braggart, unworthy of the confidence of a 



78 CITIZEN ESS BONAPARTE. 

Barras ! What would then say his three mistresses, 
— Josephine, France, and Italy ? To avoid such a 
disaster, he felt capable of prodigies. His genius, 
like his love, reached a pitch of wonderful inten- 
sity. Being anxious not to see Josephine till after 
a complete triumph, he remembered the line from 
the Old., — 

" Issue a victor from the combat of which Chiniene is the 
prize ! " 

November 17, at nightfall, the camp at Verona 
was called to arms. At the news of the last reverses 
the sick and wounded insisted on leaving the hos- 
pital and taking their places in the ranks with their 
wounds yet unhealed ; and their presence filled the 
army with lively emotion. The columns started, 
passed through Verona, and issued from the gate 
called the gate of Milan, and took a position on the 
right bank of the Adige. It was a solemn and 
anxious moment. They had no idea where they 
were going. The time of starting ; the position they 
had taken on the right, and not on the left bank ; 
the silence which was observed, while usually the 
order of the day announced an intended battle, — the 
whole state of affairs made them think that they 
were about to begin retreat. They feared that they 
were about to abandon Italy, that promised land, 
which they had won with so much glory, and to lose 
the fruit of such hot struggles and such dauntless 
courage. Were the heroes of so many battles to be 
fugitives ? The mere thought filled them with dis- 



ARCOLE. 79 

tress ; they yearned to continue the struggle as long 
as they had a cartridge and a bayonet left. So when 
instead of following the road to Peschiera, the army 
suddenly turned to the left, along the Adige, reaching 
Ronco before daybreak, where it found Andreassy 
there finishing the construction of a bridge^ and dis- 
covered itself by a simple turn to the left, on the other 
bank of the Adige, there was general joy. " No ! " ex- 
claimed the soldiers, " we are not retreating. With 
twelve thousand men we can do nothing in the open 
country against forty-five thousand. Our general is 
leading us to the causeways in the vast marshes, where 
numbers will not count, but where everything will 
depend on the courage of the heads of the columns. 
Forward ! " Then, as it is said in the Memorial of 
Saint Helena^ "the hope of victory fired every heart: 
every man promised to outdo himself in support of 
so fine and bold a plan." When Bonaparte saw the 
glowing eyes of his soldiers before this battle of 
giants, he felt that with such men he could hope 
everything. There was about to begin a three days' 
battle, one of the most stupendous struggles that an 
army could ever undertake. 

Three causeways run from Ronco, and all these 
are surrounded by marshes. The first, ascending the 
Adige, leads to Verona ; the second, to Villa Nuova, 
passing before Arcole, which has a bridge a league 
and a half from the Adige, over the little river, 
the Alpon; the third descends the Adige, towards 
Albaredo. Three columns advanced simultaneously 



80 CITIZENESS BONAPARTE. 

over the three causeways. The centre column was 
marching on Arcole, and the skirmishers reached the 
bridge without being perceived by the enemy, who 
had been too careless to extend his outj)osts to the 
Adige, under the impression that the space between 
that river and the Alpon was an impassable marsh. 
The causeway from Ronco to Arcole strikes the 
Alpon at a distance of two miles, and from there 
runs up the right bank of the river for a mile and 
turns at right angles to the right, entering Arcole. 
Bonaparte reached this bridge which was to become 
so famous. He tried to cross it, but a terrible fire 
stopped the soldiers. Before this rain of bullets, this 
avalanche of cannon-balls and shells, even the boldest 
hesitated. Bonaparte galloped forward, and when 
near the bridge, got off his horse. Augereau's men 
had sought refuge in the marsh, and were crouching 
along the edge of the causeway to escape the storm 
of bullets that had repelled them. Their general 
shouted to them, " Are you no longer the men who 
conquered at Lodi?" and seizing a flag, he called to 
them and inspired them with his own courage. They 
followed him in spite of the deadly fire, and got 
within two hundred steps of the bridge, and were 
about to cross it, when a major seized Bonaparte by 
the waist, shouting, "General, you will be killed, 
and without you we are lost; you shall go no fur- 
ther!" Then they fell back. The soldiers, unwilling 
to abandon their general, seized his arm, his hair, his 
coat, and dragged him with them in their flight, amid 



ABCOLE. 81 

the dead and dying, through the smoke. In the con- 
fusion, without seeing what they did, they threw him 
over to the right, into the marsh, and lost sight of 
him. The Austrians were there. Fortunately they 
failed to recognize him. A cry was heard, "For- 
ward, men, to save the general ! " Marmont, Louis 
Bonaparte, and a few other brave men rushed out, 
and tore the commander-in-chief from the thick mud 
into which he had fallen ; they put him on his horse 
and charged the enemy, who at nightfall finally 
abandoned Arcole, retiring on San Bonifacio. 

'' That day," says the Memorial of Saint Helena^ 
"was one of soldierly devotion. General Lannes 
had hastened from Milan : he had been wounded at 
Governolo, and was still weak. He placed himself 
between Napoleon and the enemy, covering him with 
his body, and was wounded in three places, insisting 
on not leaving him. Muiron, the general's aide-de- 
camp, was killed while covering his general with his 
body, — a touching and heroic death." 

The battle continued the next day, November 16, 
and the day after, the 17th. On the 16th, the Aus- 
trians were defeated on the dykes of the Adige and 
of Arcole. In the afternoon of the 17th, Bonaparte 
counted the losses of the enemy, and decided that it 
must have lost twenty thousand men, and that thus 
it was only one-third stronger than his own forces. 
Consequently, he ordered his troops to leave the 
marshes, and attack the Austrians on the plain. 
The army crossed the bridge that had been built at 



82 CITIZEN ESS BONAPARTE. 

the mouth of the Alpon. There was killed young El- 
liot, one of Bonaparte's aicles-cle-camp. At two in the 
afternoon, the French were engaged, their left wing 
at Arcole, their right in the direction of Porto 
Lignano. The enemy was defeated at every point, 
and, exhausted by a bloody contest of seventy-two 
hours, they retreated in the direction of Vicenza. 

November 18, Bonaparte, who had secretly marched 
out from the Milan gate of Verona on the 14th, 
re-entered the town in triumph, by the left bank of 
the Adige, through the gate of Venice, the gate 
through which the Veronese expected to see the 
victorious Austrian army enter. From that moment 
no one expected any serious defeat of the French. 
" It would not be easy," Napoleon himself said, " to 
conceive the surprise and enthusiasm of the inhabi- 
tants. Even the most hostile could not remain cold ; 
and they added their congratulations to those of our 
friends." The stupefaction of some, the delight of 
others, were blended in the common transport, as if 
a miracle had happened. 



yiii. 



AFTER AUCOLE. 



BONAPARTE had done wonders, and was him- 
self amazed at his good fortune. He felt that 
henceforth he was in possession of that indefinable 
power which is mightier than any other, and is called 
prestige. Edgar Qninet says in his Revolution : " Na- 
poleon has recorded that his high ambition came to 
him at Arcole, but he does not say why. I think I 
know the reason. Other victories, such as those of 
Montenotte, Lodi, Lonato, Castiglione, had been 
more complete. Why is it, then, that only at Arcole 
his star first appeared to him ? It is because he had 
never been in such desperate straits. The invincible 
Army of Italy was about to lose the fruits of all its 
victories ! And what would become of his fame, 
which eclipsed everything? It would be a mere 
ephemeral glory, with no substance, no future ! To 
retreat would have been to lose, with Italy, much 
more than the result of so many prodigies ; it would 
have meant his ruin. He would have flashed before 
the world for a moment, to sink into oblivion. For- 
tune would have smiled upon him merely in order to 

83 



84 CITIZEN ESS BONAPARTE. 



destroy him. Such might have been his thoughts, 
November 14, 1796. That day everything seemed 
lost, — prestige, confidence, glory, the Consulate, the 
Emj^ire. The next day all had changed. It was at 
this moment that Napoleon must have thought him- 
self the creature of destiny ; he must have felt, after 
recrossing the Adige at Ronco, that nothing was 
impossible for a man who thus changed and ruled by 
a glance the course of events ; that he was the man 
who was needed, — the master of fate. Henceforth, 
where could his ambition halt ? Where could he set 
a limit to his plans ? The feeling of the fatality of 
his power was born and grew up at the same moment 
as that of his ruin, and universal dominion appeared 
before him in the reeds of Arcole." 

Bonaparte had triumphed, and yet he was sad. 
His face was gloomy, and his talk betrayed his mel- 
ancholy thoughts. In fact, men of great ambition 
are usually haunted by a sort of melancholy when 
once their ambition is gratified. The emptiness of 
human things is such that the draught which fills 
the cup of glory seems tasteless even to those who 
quaff it. The feeling of the shortness of life, of the 
uncertainty of hope, fills human conquerors with this 
gloomy spirit. The shadow of death floats over all 
their great feats. Besides, great efforts, gigantic 
struggles, are followed by hours of moral and physi- 
cal exhaustion. 

However brilliant the victory, military glory has 
its sad side, and the sight of the battle-field depresses 



AFTER ARCOLE. 85 



the most eager. The cries of the wounded and 
dying, which the conquerors as well as the con- 
quered hear in the silence of the night, arouse a 
melancholy echo. Napoleon, for all his stoicism 
and impassibility on the battle-field, had afterwards 
moments of tenderness. 

He said at Saint Helena that once he was passing 
over a battle-field in Italy, on which the bodies of the 
dead were still lying. " In the moonlight and the 
unbroken quiet, suddenly there sprang out from un- 
der the cloak of a corpse, a dog which ran towards us 
and then returned at once, uttering doleful cries; he 
licked his master's face a few times and then sprang 
at us again. He was asking aid and seeking ven- 
geance." The Emperor went on : " Was it my state 
of mind, the place, the hour, the act itself? whatever 
it was, I can truly say that never has anything on 
the battle-field made such an impression on me. I 
stopped involuntarily to gaze at this spectacle. 'This 
man,' I thought, 'has friends, in the camp, perhaps, in 
his company, and here he lies abandoned by all 
except his dog. What a lesson nature gives us by 
means of this animal ! . . . What is man ! How mjs- 
terious are his impressions ! ' I had without emotion 
given the orders which were to decide the fate of the 
army; I had watched dry-eyed the execution of the 
movements which were to cause death to a great 
many of us ; and here I was moved and deeply 
touched by this dog's howling. . . . What is certain 
is that at that moment I would have been very gentle 



86 CITIZENESS BONAPARTE. 

to a suppliant foe, and I understood clearly how 
Achilles restored Hector's body when Priam wept." 

Never, perhaps, did Bonaparte's disposition to 
re very and melancholy show itself more clearly than 
after Arcole. He wrote to Carnot from Verona, 
November 19, 1796 : "Never was a battle-field more 
hotly contested than that of Arcole. I have scarcely 
any generals left. Their devotion and courage are 
unprecedented. General Lannes entered the action 
while still suffering from his wound, and was 
wounded besides twice after the first day. At three 
in the afternoon he was lying down in great pain, 
when he heard that I was taking a position at the 
head of the column. He sprang from his bed, and 
joined me on the bridge of Arcole, when a new 
wound felled him to the ground unconscious. I 
assure you the victory required all that." 

The same day Bonaparte wrote to Clarke : " Your 
nephew, Elliot, was killed on the battle-field of Arcole. 
This young man had learned to know war. He has 
often marched at the head of our columns. . . . He 
died gloriously in front of the enemy. He did not 
suffer a moment. What reasonable man would not 
desire such a death? Who, in our uncertain life, 
would not deem himself hapj^y to leave in that way a 
world which is often contemptible ? Who is there of 
us who has not a hundred times regretted that he 
could not thus escape the stings of calumny, of enYj, 
and of all the odious passions which seem alone to 
rule men's conduct ? " 



AFTER ABC OLE. 87 



Physical suffering added to the melancholy which 
was stamped on Bonaparte's pale face. He was still 
tormented by a skin disease which he had caught at 
the siege of Toulon, when he seized a rammer from 
the hands of an artillery-man who was afflicted with 
the itch, and hiiiiself loaded the cannon ten or twelve 
times. The poison disturbed his nervous organization 
and infected his whole system. At about the time of 
Arcole, he suffered from the first attacks of another 
ailment, which sixteen years later was to diminish his 
activity and give him real alarm. Yvan, wlio was his 
surgeon until 1814, told General de Segur, that in 
1796 and 1797 he could only put an end to Napoleon's 
attacks by plunging him, there being no bath-tub, 
into the first barrel of water that he could lay his 
hands on. 

In spite of wonderful triumphs, the conqueror of 
Arcole was suffering in mind and body. At certain 
moments he doubted Josephine's love, and this doubt 
was anguish. November 24, 1796, he wrote from Ve- 
rona to his beloved wife : " Soon, my dear one, I hope 
to be in your arms. I love you madly. I am writing 
to Paris by this courier. All is well. Wurmser was 
defeated yesterday under Mantua. Your husband 
needs only Josephine's love to make him perfectly 
happy." Then he left Verona, without sending her 
word, to spend forty-eight hours with her at Milan. 
To his surprise and disappointment, she was not there. 
Then he wrote to her, seeing himself deprived of this 
longed-for meeting which he had hoped would be 



88 CITIZENESS BONAPARTE. 



the most welcome prize of victory : " I reached Milan, 
rushed to your rooms, having thrown up everything 
to see you, to press you to my heart — you were not 
there ; you are travelling about from one town to 
another, amusing yourself with balls: you go away 
from me when I arrive ; you care no more for your 
dear Napoleon. A caprice made you love me ; incon- 
stancy makes you indifferent. I am accustomed to 
danger, and know the cure for the fatigues and evils 
of life. My unhappiness is inconceivable ; I had no 
reason to expect it. I shall be here until the 9th 
[Frimaire]. Don't put yourself out; pursue your 
pleasure ; happiness is made for you. The whole 
world is too happy if it can please you, and your 
husband alone is very, very unhappy." 

When Bonaparte was thus lamenting, Josephine 
was at Genoa, where she had thought it her duty to 
accept an invitation from the city. " She was re- 
ceived," says Sir Walter Scott, " with studied magnifi- 
cence by those in that ancient state who adhered to 
the French interest, and where, to the scandal of the 
rigid Catholics, the company continued assembled, 
at a ball given by M. de Serva, till a late hour on 
Friday morning, despite the presence of a senator 
having in his pocket, but not venturing to enforce, a 
decree of the senate for the better observation of the 
fast day upon the occasion." 

Another letter from Bonaparte to Josephine, No- 
vember 28 : "I have received the despatches for- 
warded by Berthier from Genoa. I see clearly that 



AFTER ARCOLE. 89 



you didn't have time to write to me. In all your 
pleasures and amusements, you would have done 
wrong to sacrifice anything for me. Berthier has 
been kind enough to shoAv me the letter you wrote to 
him. I have no intention of interfering with your 
plans, or with the pleasure-parties that are offered to 
you ; I am not worth the trouble, and the happiness 
or misery of a man whom you do not love has no 
right to interest you. For me, to love you alone, to 
make you happy, to do nothing that can annoy you, 
that is the lot and aim of my life. Be happy, make 
me no reproaches, do not trouble yourself about the 
happiness of a man who lives only in your life, and 
knows no other pleasures and joys than yours. When 
I ask of you a love like mine, I am wrong. Why ex- 
pect lace to weigh as much as gold? When I sacri- 
fice to you all my desires, all my thoughts, every 
moment of my life, I yield to the power which your 
charms, your character, and your whole person exer- 
cise over my unhappy heart. It is my misfortune V 
that nature has denied me qualities that might fasci- 
nate you ; but what I deserve to receive from Jose- 
phine is respect and esteem, for I love her madly and 
I love her alone." 

This passionately eloquent letter concludes with 
this outbreak of affection : " Good by, you adorable 
woman ; good by, Josephine ! Fate may crowd every--^ 
sorrow and suffering upon my heart, if only it will 
give happy and bright days to Josephine. Who de- 
serves them better than she ? When there is no 



90 CITIZEN ESS BONAPARTE. 



longer any doubt possible that she has ceased to love 
me, I shall hide my crushing grief, and be satisfied to 
be able to be of some use to her, of some service. I 
open my. letter to send you a kiss. . . . Oh, Jose- 
phine, Josephine ! " 

A few days later they met at Milan, and Bona- 
parte's agitated heart tasted a few moments of com- 
parative peace. Lavalette, who was his aide-de-camp 
at that time, describes him at headquarters in Milan 
after Arcole : " I presented myself before the com- 
mander-in-chief, who was living in the Serbelloni 
palace, on a day of reception. The drawing-room was 
full of officers of all degrees, and of the high officials 
of the country. His manner was pleasant, but his 
glance was so haughty and piercing that I felt my- 
self turn pale when he spoke to me. I stammered 
out my name and a few words of gratitude which he 
listened to in silence, with his eyes fixed on me and 
a severe expression which thoroughly confused me. 
At last he said : ' Come back at six o'clock and get 
the scarf.' This scarf, which was the distinguishing 
mark of the commander-in-chief's aides, was of white 
and red silk, and was worn on the left arm." 

At that time, Bonaparte had eight aides-de-camp. 
Murat, who had just been promoted to the post of 
general, was no longer one of them. The first was 
Colonel Junot, who was as remarkable for his bravery 
and energy as for his ready wit. " While construct- 
ing one of the first batteries at Toulon against the 
English," we read in the Meynorial of Saint Helena^ 



AFTEB ARCOLE. 91 



" Napoleon called for a sergeant or corporal who 
knew how to write. A young soldier stepped out 
of the ranks and resting the paper on the breastwork 
wrote at his dictation. As soon as the letter was 
finished, a shot covered it with earth. ' Good ! ' said 
the Avriter; 'I sha'n't need anj^ sand.' This jest and 
the calmness with which it was uttered attracted 
Napoleon's attention and made the sergeant's for- 
tune. He was Junot, afterwards Duke of Abrantes, 
General of Hussars, Commander in Portugal, Gov- 
ernor-General of Illyria." 

The second aide was Marmont, later the Duke of 
Ragusa, a colonel of artillery, a descendant of an old 
and respected family of Burgundy. Marmont, who 
had received an excellent education, was distin- 
guished for an intense love of glory, an unbounded 
ambition, and enthusiastic devotion to his chief. 
Later, the Duke of Ragusa thus described in his 
Memoirs this part of his life : " We were all very 
young, from our commander down to the humblest 
of his officers ; our ambition was noble and pure ; no 
trace of envy, no base passion, ever entered our 
hearts ; a genuine friendship held us together, and 
our mutual attachment amounted to devotion. Our 
perfect confidence in the future, and our certainty 
about our destinies, inspired that philosophical spirit 
which contributes materially to happiness, and our 
invariable harmony made us a most united family. 
Finally, the variety of our occupations and our pleas- 
ures, the constant demand upon our physical and 



92 CITIZEN ESS BONAPARTE. 

mental qualities, lent to our life an interest and ful- 
ness which were most extraordinary." 

Less brilliant than Junot and Marmont, but of a 
solid character, was the third aide-de-camp, Duroc, 
later Grand Marshal to the Palace, and Napoleon's 
most trusted friend. He was killed by a cannon-ball 
at Wurtschen ; his death left on Bonaparte's spirit 
so deep an impression that, when he was about to 
embark upon the Belleroplion in 1815, the Emperor 
asked permission to live as a private citizen in Eng- 
land under the name of Colonel Duroc. 

The fourth aide-de-camp was the young Lemerrois, 
who was scarcely seventeen years old and already 
covered with wounds. The fifth was Sulkowski, 
a Pole, an adventurous, chivalrous, and romantic 
character. He spoke every European language. 
After having fought for the freedom of Poland, and 
having been wounded at the siege of Warsaw, he 
entered the French army, and was greeted by Napo- 
leon's soldiers as a fellow-countryman. The sixth 
aide-de-camp was the brother of the commander-in- 
chief, Louis Bonaparte, scarcely seventeen years old, 
Avho was entrusted with the most dangerous duties. 
These he performed with a zeal and heartiness that 
showed how well he supported the burden of a great 
name. The future King of Holland had a gentle 
nature, his manners were simple, his character was 
serious, he was prone to revery, and remarkably cool 
in the hour of danger. At the battle of Areola his 
courage and devotion had been of service in saving 



AFTER ARC OLE. 93 



his brother's life. " Louis loved glory," said Napo- 
leon at Saint Helena; "perhaps he loved me more." 
The seventh aide-de-camp was Croissier, a brave and 
skilful cavalry officer who had just taken the place 
of the young Elliot, who had met a glorious death 
at Arcole. The eighth and last was Lavalette, later 
Postmaster-General, who was condemned to death 
and confined in the Conciergerie at the second 
restoration, and only saved from execution by 
the devotion of his wife, who, to secure his escape, 
visited him in prison and sent him out dressed in 
her clothes. 

Bonaparte's staff was already a sort of military 
court, of exceptional charm on account of its young 
and martial air. " The commander-in-chief," Lava- 
lette says elsewhere, " was then happy in his wife's 
society. Madame Bonaparte was charming, and all 
the cares of the chief command, all the duties of 
government, could not prevent her husband from 
giving himself up to domestic happiness. It was 
during this short sojourn at Milan that the young 
painter Gros made the first portrait that exists of the 
general. He represented him on the bridge of Lodi 
at the moment when, flag in hand, he flung himself 
before his men to urge them on. The artist could 
never get the general to sit. Madame Bonaparte 
took her husband on her lap, after breakfast, and 
held him for a few minutes. I was present at these 
sittings ; the age of the happy couple, the artist's 
modesty and his enthusiasm for the hero, excused 



94 CITIZEN ESS BONAPABTE. 



this familiarity." Gros, thus painting Bonaparte's 
portrait at Milan, after the battle of Arcole, might 
make a good subject of a picture of one of our mod- 
ern artists. 



IX. 



THE END OF THE CAMPAIGN. 

THE Count of Las Cases recounts in the Memorial 
this conversation which he had with Napoleon 
at Saint Helena : " We said to the Emperor, speaking 
of the Italian campaign and the swift and daily vic- 
tories which had made it so famous, that he must 
have got great pleasure out of it. ' None at all,' he 
replied. ' But at least Your Majesty gave some to 
those who were at a distance.' ' Possibly ; at a dis- 
tance one reads about the triumphs and ignores the 
state of things. If I had had any pleasure, I should 
have rested ; but I always had danger in front of me, 
and the day's victory was at once forgotten in the 
necessity of winning a new one the next day.' " 

Early in 1797 the war had to be resumed, and 
Bonaparte, who had caught a fever by bivouacking 
in a marsh near Mantua, was in a state of illness 
and exhaustion which filled the army with despair. 
Stendhal describes his appearance at the time, with 
his hollow, livid cheeks, which inspired the emigres 
to say, " He is of a most beautiful yellow ! " and they 
drank to his speedy death. '' Only his eyes and their 

95 



96 CITIZEN ESS BONAPARTE. 

piercing glance announced tlie great man. This 
glance had won for him the confidence of the army, 
which forgave him for his feeble appearance, loving 
him only the better for it. They often compared 
their little corporal with the superb Murat, and their 
preference was. for the puny general who had already 
won so great glory." 

Austria was about to make a final effort. The 
great cities of that empire were sending battalions 
of volunteers. Those of Vienna had received from 
the Empress banners embroidered by her own hands. 

Bonaparte was at Bologna, January 10, 1797, when 
he heard that the Austrians, to the number of sixty 
thousand men, were advancing by Montebaldo and 
the Paduan plains. In the night between the 13th 
and 14th of January he was on the eminence of 
Rivoli. The weather had cleared after very heavy 
rain. In the moonlight the general examined the 
lines of the enemy's camp-fires, which filled the 
whole region between the Adige and Lake Garda: 
the air Avas all ablaze with them. The bivouac 
fires indicated forty or fifty thousand Austrians. 
The next morning at six, there were to be at Rivoli 
only twenty-two thousand French troops. Never did 
Bonaparte show more amazing rapidity of conception, 
decision, and execution. January 14, he won the 
battle of Rivoli ; he marched all that night with 
Massena'o division, which had won the victory ; the 
evening of the 15th, he Avas before Mantua ; the 16th, 
he won the battle of Favorita. In three days the 



THE END OF THE CAMPAIGN. 97 

Austrian army, reduced to half its original size, com- 
pletely disorganized, weakened by a multitude of 
killed and wounded, had lost twenty-two thousand 
men taken prisoners, its artillery, and baggage. Mas- 
sena's division had marched and fought incessantly 
for four days, marching by night and fighting by 
day. Bonaparte could boast that his soldiers had 
surpassed the famous speed of Caesar's legions. "The 
Roman legions," he wrote at the time, "used to make 
twenty-four miles a day ; our men make thirty and 
fight in the intervals." He also wrote to Carnot: 
" The esteem of a few such men as you, that of my 
comrades and the soldiers, sometimes, too, the opin- 
ion of posterity, and above all, the state of my own 
conscience, and the prosperity of my country, alone 
interest me." February 3, Wurmser surrendered at 
Mantua. Bonaparte, who had accorded honorable 
conditions to the venerable Austrian general, was 
unwilling to be present at the scene of his humilia- 
tion, and was already in the Romagna when he 
and his staff marched out before the French troops. 
The studied indifference with which Bonaparte de- 
nied himself the agreeable spectacle of a marshal of 
a great reputation, the commander-in-chief of the 
Austrian forces, at the head of his staff, giving up 
his sword, was a matte'f of surprise to all Europe. 
A few days later he wrote to the Directory : " I was 
anxious to show French generosity to Wurmser, a 
general more than seventy years old, to whom for- 
tune has been unkind, but who has never ceased to 



98 CITIZEN ESS BONAPARTE. 

show a constancy and a courage that history will not 
forget." 

The war with Austria came to a pause ; that with 
the Holy See continued. February 10, Bonaparte 
wrote to Josephine as follows : " We have been at 
Ancona for two days. We captured the citadel by 
a sudden attack, after a little firing. We took twelve 
hundred prisoners. I have sent fifty officers to their 
homes. I am still at Ancona. I don't send for 
you, because our work is not done yet ; but I hope 
it will be finished in a few days. Besides, the 
country is very hostile, and everybody is afraid. 
I leave for the mountains to-morrow. You never 
write ; and yet you ought to send me a line every 
day. I beg of you to take a walk every day ; it will 
do you good. I have never been so tired of anything 
as I am with this horrid war. Good by, my dear. 
Think of me." February 13, he wrote again from 
Ancona : " I hear nothing from you, and I am sure 
that you don't love me. I have sent you newspapers 
and different letters. I am leaving at once, to cross 
the mountains. The moment anything is settled, I 
shall send for you : that is my most earnest desire. 
Thousands and thousands of kisses." February 16, 
three days before the signing of the Treaty of Tolen- 
tino, he wrote from Bologna : " You are gloomy ; you 
are ill ; you don't write to me ; you want to go to 
Paris. Don't you love your husband any more? 
This thought makes me very unhappy. My dear 
one, I find life unendurable, since I hear of your low 



THE END OF THE CAMPAIGN. 99 

spirits. I hasten to send Mascati, that he may pre- 
scribe for you. My health is not very good : my 
cold holds on. I beg of you to take care of yourself, 
to love me as much as I love you, and to write to me 
every day. You can't imagine how uneasy I am. I 
have told Mascati to escort you to Ancona, if you 
desire to go there. I will send you word where I 
am. Perhaps I shall make peace with the Pope, and 
be with you soon : that is my most ardent wish. I 
send you a hundred kisses. Remember that nothing 
equals my love, except my uneasiness. Write to me 
every day. Good by, my dear." 

February 19, Bonaparte signed the Treaty of To= 
lentino with the Pope. He was but three days' 
march from the capital ; and nothing would have 
been easier for him than to enter the Eternal City in 
triumph. He was wise enough to decide otherwise. 

At this period he thought it best to be gentle 
towards religion. Prince Metternich has observed 
in his Memoirs : " Napoleon was not irreligious in 
the ordinary sense of the word. He did not acknowl- 
edge that there had ever existed a sincere atheist; 
he condemned deism as the result of rash specula- 
tion. As a Christian and a Catholic, he assigned 
only to an established religion the right of governing 
human society. He regarded Christianity as the 
corner-stone of all true civilization, and Catholicism 
as the religion most favorable to the preservation of 
the order and peace of the moral world ; Protestant- 
ism he looked upon as a source of trouble and discord. 



100 CITIZENESS BONAPARTE. 

He compelled the Pope to cede Avignon and the 
Venaissm, Bologna, Ferrara, and the Romagna, and 
to pay a subsidy of thirty millions. But at the same 
time, he wrote to him this respectful letter, quite 
unlike the usual language of France during the 
Revolution : " I must thank Your Holiness for the 
courteous expressions contained in the letter which 
you have been kind enough to write to me. Peace 
has just been signed between the French Republic and 
Your Holiness. I am glad to have been able to contri- 
bute to his personal repose. All Europe is aware of 
the j)acific and conciliatory disposition of Your Holi- 
ness ! The French Republic will be, I hope, one of the 
truest friends of Rome. I send my aide-de-camp to 
convey to Your Holiness the unfailing esteem and 
veneration which I feel for his person." 

The same day the peace of Tolentino was con- 
cluded, February 19, 1797, Bonaparte wrote the fol- 
lowing letter to Josephine, who was then at Bologna : 
" Peace has just been signed with Rome. Bologna, 
Ferrara, the Romagna, are ceded to the Republic. 
The Pope gives us shortly thirty millions and many 
works of art. I leave to-morrow morning for Ancona, 
and thence for Rimini, Ravenna, and Bologna. If 
your health permits, come to Rimini or Ravenna, 
but I beg of you, take care of yourself. 

" Not a word from you ; Heavens ! what have I 
done ? To think only of you, to love only Josephine, 
to know no other happiness than hers, does all that 
make me worthy of such a cruel fate ? My dear, I 



THE END OF THE CAMPAIGN. 101 

beg of you, think of me often, and write every day. 
You must be ill, or you don't love me ! Do you 
think my heart is made of marble ? Do my suffer- 
ings move you so little ? How little you know me ! 
I should not have believed it. You to whom nature 
has given intelligence, gentleness, and beauty, you 
who rule alone over my heart, you who, doubtless, 
know only too well the absolute power you exercise 
over my heart, write to me, think of me, and love 
me. Ever yours." 

This letter, dated February 19, at Tolentino, is 
printed in the collection published by Queen Hor- 
tense as the last written by Napoleon to Josephine 
during the first Italian campaign. It is much to be 
regretted that Josephine's letters to her husband 
have not also been preserved ; but it is fair to sup- 
pose from Napoleon's repeated reproaches, that his 
wife wrote very cool answers to the sentimental 
effusions of her passionate husband. She was proud 
of him ; she admired his glory, and was dazzled and 
fascinated by his success. Still we may doubt 
whether she loved him; and love, even between 
married people, cannot be commanded. If later 
Napoleon became less ardent, it may be because he 
was disappointed in the return which his love met. 
We should be inclined to think that Madame de 
Remusat was not wholly mistaken when she thus 
expressed herself on this delicate subject: "Bona- 
parte's letters betray the emotions of a jealousy 
which varies between despondency and threats of 



102 CITIZENESS BONAPARTE. 

violence. Then Ave find gloomy thouglits, a sort of 
disgust with the passing illusions of life. Possibly 
the cold reception with which his ardent feelings 
were met had its influence upon and at last be- 
numbed him. Perhaps he would have been a better 
man if he had been more, and especially better, 
loved." Moreover, it may well be that Josephine's 
coldness was the result of calculation. There are 
men who are more fascinated by indifference than by 
surrender, and who prefer a changing sky to the 
monotonous blue of doting love. We must not for- 
get that Josephine had to deal with a conqueror, and 
that love is like war. She never yielded ; she let 
herself be won; had she been more tender, more 
loving, possibly Bonaparte might have loved her less. 
The war was not yet over. Austria, Avith its in- 
exhaustible resources, was perpetually renewing the 
struggle. Its armies were ever springing from the 
ground. After Beaulieu, Wurmser ; after Wurmser, 
Alvinzy; after Alvinzy, the Archduke Charles. This 
German prince, who had won his spurs in Germany, 
came to Italy. Bonaparte, with thirty thousand men, 
hastened to encounter him, in a bitter cold, over 
mountains covered with snow. March 13, 1797, he 
crossed the Piave ; the 16th, he defeated the Arch- 
duke in the battle of Tagliamento ; soon he arrived 
at Gradisca ; a few days later he took Laybach and 
Trieste ; the 26th, he entered Germany ; the 29th, 
he captured Klagenfurt. Whether from fatigue and 
physical exhaustion or from prudence and craft, he 



THE END OF THE CAMPAIGN. 103 

felt that the hour of peace had struck. He had won 
enough fama as a soldier : now he was to appear as a 
peacemaker. 

This unrivalled manager understood how to ar- 
range peace with as much art as he had shown in 
carrying on war. After crossed swords, the olive- 
branch ; after fury, moderation ; after glory, peace 
and rest. France was all aflame for this young man 
who flattered in turn its glory and its interest, and 
kept such close touch with public opinion. March 31, 
he wrote to the Archduke Charles a letter, replete 
with philosophy and the love of humanity after the 
fashion of the time, and its publication, a few days 
later in the Moniteur had an enormous effect. In it 
Bonaparte said : " General, brave soldiers make war, 
but love peace. . . . Have we killed enough men 
and done enough harm to humanity ? This sixth cam- 
paign begins under unhappy auspices ; whatever may 
be its issue, we shall kill between us, a few thousand 
men more, and we must at last come to an under- 
standing, since everything, even human passions, has 
an end. . . . You, General, who by birth are so near 
the throne, and so superior to the petty passions 
which often animate ministers and governments, are 
you determined to deserve the title of the Saviour of 
Germany ? . . . As for me, if the overture which I 
have the honor of making to you, can save one man's 
life, I shall be prouder of the civic crown which I 
shall deem myself to have earned, than of all the sad 
glory which may come from military triumphs." 



104 CITIZEN ESS BONAPARTE. 

April 15, Bonaparte arrived at Leoben. His ad- 
vance seized the Semmering ; the French were only 
twenty-five leagues from Vienna. The Archduke 
Charles requested a suspension of hostilities. Bona- 
parte acceded, and, April 18, he signed the prelimi- 
naries of a peace on the following conditions : Bel- 
ofium and the left bank of the Rhine to be ceded to 
France ; cession of Lombardy for the purpose of mak- 
ing it an independent state, in consideration of an 
indemnity to Austria from the Venetian territory. 
Towards the end of April he returned to Italy, and 
when he reached Treviso, May 3, an order of the day 
was published, in which he declared war against the 
Venetian Republic, which had declared against him 
before the preliminaries of Leoben, and had seen 
French soldiers massacred. General Baragney d'Hil- 
liers seized the lagoons, forts, and batteries of Venice, 
and. May 16, hoisted the tricolor flag in the Piazza of 
Saint Mark. Bonaparte had returned to Milan. 



X. 



THE SERBELLONI PALACE. 

THE spring of 1797 was perhaps the happiest time 
in the lives of Napoleon and Josephine. The 
2)oet Arnault, when he came from Paris in May, 
found the two at Milan, settled in the Serbelloni 
Palace, which at that time attracted more attention 
from all Europe than did the residences of emperors 
and kings. The Duke of Serbelloni, a convert to the 
French notions of liberty, was proud to have under 
his roof the, hero of Arcole, who was then looked on 
as the restorer of Italian liberty. The Duke's palace, 
with its blocks of finished granite all sparkling with 
small crystals, its vast and sumptuous drawing-rooms, 
its lofty colonnades, its wide, long gallery, was one 
of the most luxurious residences of Milan. Arnault 
sets before us Bonaparte with his military court in a 
drawing-room where were Josephine and a few pretty 
women : Madame Visconti, Madame Leopold Berthier, 
Madame Yvan. Near the ladies was Eugene de Beau- 
harnai^, on a sofa, jesting as merrily as a page. The 
general made his appearance, and every one stood up. 
Berthier, Kilmaine, Clarke, and Augereau v/aited for 

105 



106 CITIZENESS BONAPABTE. 

a glance, a word, the slightest sign. The group gath- 
ered about Bonaparte, and he began to tell stories, 
to explain his victories, talking at one moment on 
military matters, and the next, philosophy and poetry. 
" To the interest of these remarks," Arnault goes on 
in his Souyenirs, "uttered now with a serious voice, 
and now with animation, must be added the authority 
that is given by a singularly mobile face, the severe 
expression of which is often tempered by the kindli- 
est smile, by a look which reflects the deepest thoughts 
of a most powerful intelligence and the warmest feel- 
ings of a most passionate heart, — to all this must be 
added the charm of a melodious and manly voice, 
and then it will be possible to conceive how easily 
Bonaparte won by his conversation those whom he 
desired to fascinate." He had just been talking for 
two hours steadily, standing all the time, like the 
listeners, and no one had felt a moment's fatigue. 
As he left, Arnault said to Regnauld de Saint Jean 
d' Angely : " That man is an exceptional being ; every- 
thing succumbs to his superior genius, to the force of 
his character ; everything about him bears the stamp 
of authority. You notice how his authority is recog- 
nized by the people, who submit to him without know- 
ing it, or perhaps in spite of themselves. What an 
expression of respect and admiration the men wear 
who approach him ! He is born to command, as so 
many others to obey. If he is not lucky enough to 
be carried off by a bullet before four years from noAV, 
he will be in exile or on the throne." 



THE SERB ELLON I PALACE. 107 

Josephine was already like a queen. She will 
confess later that nothing ever equalled the impres- 
sion which she received at this time, when, according 
to Madame de Remusat, "• love seemed to come every 
day to place at her feet a new conquest over a 23eople 
entranced with its conqueror." Bonaparte was then 
the favorite of the populace of Milan. They used to 
wait for hours to see him come out of the Serbelloni 
Palace. The Italians, who, like the rest of the world, 
are devoted to success, applauded the young general 
all the more enthusiastically because they regarded 
him as one of themselves. "Everything," he said 
one day, " even ni}^ foreign origin, which was brought 
up against me in France, has been of service to me. 
It caused me to be regarded as a fellow-countryman 
by the Italians, and greatly aided my success in Italy. 
When I had obtained my success, people began to 
look up the history of a family wMch had long fallen 
into obscurity. It was found, as all Italians knew, 
to have long played an important part with them. 
In their estimation it had become an Italian family, 
so much so that when the question came up of my 
sister Pauline's marriage with Prince Borghese, there 
was only one opinion in Rome and in Tuscany, in 
that family and all its branches. ' It's all right,' 
they said ; ' it's between ourselves ; it's one of our 
families.' Later, when the question arose of the 
Pope's crowning me in Paris, this important matter 
encountered serious difficulties : the Austrian party 
in the Conclave opposed it violently; the Italian 



108 CITIZEN ESS BONAPARTE. 



party prevailed by adding to the political considera- 
tion the force of national pride : ' After all,' they said, 
' it's an Italian family that we are establishing over 
the barbarians ; we shall be avenged for the Goths.' " 

At Milan, as in Paris, Josephine was of great ser- 
vice to her husband's plans. She helped him play his 
double part now as a revolutionary leader, now as a 
conservative. When he Avished to oppose royalism, 
he made use of men with the ideas of Augereau; when 
he wanted to cajole people of the old regime, Jose- 
phine, by her antecedents, her relations, her character, 
was the bond of union between him and the European 
aristocracy. He acknowledged this himself. 

"My marriage with Madame de Beauharnais," 
said Napoleon, "brought me into relations with a 
party which I required for my plan of fusion, which 
was one of the most important principles of my 
administration, and one of the most characteristic. 
Had it not been for my wife, I should not have had 
any easy means of approaching it." 

The drawing-room of the former Viscountess of 
Beauharnais, in the Serbelloni Palace, recalled the 
elegance and the traditions of the most brilliant 
drawing-rooms of the Faubourg Saint Germain. Jo- 
sephine used to receive there the Milanese nobility 
with exquisite grace, and exercised a formal etiquette 
in marked contrast with the very demagogic tone of 
the addresses issued by the Army of Italy before the 
18th Fructidor. Thanks to his Italian shrewdness, 
Bonaparte knew how to please both the sansculottes 



THE SERBELLONI PALACE. 109 

and those who wore knee-breeches. He intrigued as 
skilfully with the most ardent democrats as with the 
ambassadors of the old courts of Austria and Naples. 

At one time he would be taken for a mounted 
tribune ; at another, for a potentate. According to 
some, he was a Brutus ; according to others, he was 
soon to be a Csesar. There is nothing more interest- 
ing than to study him in this double aspect. While 
Bonaparte's lieutenants used the most revolutionary 
language, he himself, in • confidential talk with his 
intimates, expressed contempt for the methods of the 
demagogue. This commander-in-chief, who had been 
appointed by the Directory, already felt for the Di- 
rectors, and especially for Barras, his especial patron, 
the most profound scorn ; but if such were his 
thoughts, he took care to hide them. The time had 
not come for throwing off his mask. Josephine, who 
was very intimate with Barras, helped, possibly with- 
out knowing it, to allay the discord which otherwise 
could not have failed to arise between the Director 
and the young, indocile general. Barras, by express- 
ing any discontent with Bonaparte, wdio often diso- 
beyed the instructions of the Directory, would have 
feared to wound his friend Josephine, who was so 
charming at the festivities of the Luxembourg. Thus 
it was that she continued at Milan the work she had 
begun in Paris; and in fact, she was Bonaparte's 
mainstay with the Directory. 

Josephine was at that time thirty-four years old. 
Her somewhat brown and faded complexion was dis- 



110 . CITIZENESS BONAPABTE. 

guised by rouge and powder, which she employed 
with great skill; the smallness of her mouth con- 
cealed the badness of her teeth: she remedied her 
natural defects by art. The elegance of her figure, 
her graceful movements, her refined expression, her 
soft eyes and gentle voice, her dignified bearing, 
and all the harmony of her person, gave her an ex- 
ceptional charm. Moreover, an air of coquetry, which 
was all the more attractive because it seemed natural 
and involuntary ; an indolence, which was but another 
fascination ; her unpretending but always pleasing \ 
conversation ; her unfailing kindness ; manners that 
recalled the best traditions of the court of Versailles ; 
great taste in dress ; toilettes and jewels that queens 
might have envied, — all these things enable us to 
understand the power which so attractive a woman 
was able to exercise over Bonaparte's intelligencer^ 
and heart. He was absolutely faithful to her ; and 
this at a time when there was not a beauty in Milan 
who was not setting her cap for him. His loyalty to 
her was partly a matter of love, partly of calculation. 
As he himself said, "his position was most delicate ; 
he commanded old generals ; jealous eyes spied his 
every movement; he was extremely circumspect. 
His fate depended on his conduct; he might have 
forgotten himself for an hour, and how many of his 
victories hung on no more than that brief space of 
time ! " 

Many years later, at the time of his coronation at 
Milan, the celebrated singer, Grassini, attracted his 



THE SEBBELLONI PALACE. Ill 

attention; circumstances were less austere; he sent 
for her, and after the first moment of a speedy ac- 
quaintance, she reminded him that she had made 
her first appearance at exactly the time of his first 
exploits as commander of the Army of Italy. " I was 
then in the full flower of my beauty and talent. No 
one talked of anything except of me in the Virgins of 
the Sun. I charmed every one. The young general 
alone was indifferent, and he alone interested me. 
How strange ! When I really was somebody, and all 
Italy at my feet, I scorned it all for one of your 
glances. I could not win it, and now you let them 
fall on me when I am no longer worthy of you or 
them." 

In May, 1797, Bonaparte was relatively happy, — as 
happy as could be a man of his ardent and restless 
nature, for whom peace and happiness seemed not to 
exist. A few days had been enough to restore his 
strength after all his emotions, fatigues, and perils. 
The suspicions he had felt about his wife were 
speedily dissipated; and Josephine at last became 
accustomed to Italy, where she held so lofty a posi- 
tion, and her pride was thoroughly gratified. 

As for the French army, it was wild with joy over 
its triumphs. Milan seemed its Paradise. Stendhal 
has written a most picturesque description of this 
enchanting period, when the officers and soldiers 
were all young and loving, the ladies of Milan were 
each more beautiful and more amiable than another. 
There was the promenade of the Corso on the bastion 



112 CITIZENESS BONAPARTE. 

of the eastern gate, that old Spanish rampart planted 
with chestnut-trees and forty feet above the green 
plain; and there fashionable society used to meet 
every day — the women in low carriages called 
hastardelles. 

Before the French army reached Milan, there had 
never been more than two lines of carriages in the 
Corso ; afterwards there were always four, sometimes 
six, filling the whole length of the promenade. At 
the centre the carriages as they arrived took their 
single turn, at a gentle trot. Happy were the staff or 
cavalry officers who could dash into this labyrinth : 
they were objects of envy to the infantry officers. 
But when, as the evening comes on, and the hour of 
the Ave Maria^ the carriages start again, and the 
ladies, without alighting, eat ices in front of a 
fashionable cafe, then the infantry officers have 
their innings at the entrance of the caf^ of the 
Corsia de' Servi. Some have come ten leagues to 
be at the rendezvous. Fridays, when the theatres 
used to be closed, there was a ball at the casino of 
the Albergo della Citta: every other evening there 
were magnificent performances at the Scala. The 
ladies of Milan received in their boxes a number of 
French officers, thereby driving their cavalieri ser- 
venti to despair as they saw the attentions showered 
on the young conquerors. The pit was also filled 
with officers who were not happy enough to be 
invited into the boxes ; but they were not discouraged 
by that, and they cast tender and respectful glances 



1 



THE SERBELLONI PALACE. 113 

on the objects of their adoration. Men who knew 
no shadow of fear in the face of shells and bullets 
blushed and trembled before a woman. They scarcely 
dared to raise their eyes to the boxes where shone, 
like stars, the ladies whom they worshipped. If their 
suit was hopeless, these ladies would look at them 
through the large end of their opera-glasses, which 
put them off at a distance ; if, however, they looked 
at them through the other end, which brought them 
nearer, then they were filled with happiness ! 

" primavera, gioventu dell' anno ! 
O gioventu, primavera della vita ! " 

" O spring, youth of the year ! 
O youth, springtime of life ! " 



XI. 



THE COURT OF MONTEBELLO. 

WHEN the hot weather set in, Bonaparte and 
his wife took up their quarters at the castle 
of Montebello, a few leagues from Milan, at the top 
of a hill from which there was a wide view over the 
rich plains of Lombardy. There they remained three 
months, holding a sort of diplomatic and military 
court, which the Italians, discerning the future sover- 
eign under the Republican general, called the court 
of Montebello. In fact, Bonaparte had already 
assumed the airs of a monarch. Every one won- 
dered that he had in so brief a time acquired such 
glory and could exercise so great influence in Europe. 
Scarcely thirteen months before, as an unknown gen- 
eral he had taken command at Nice of an army desti- 
tute of everything, and now holding the position of 
conqueror in the most beautiful region of the world, 
surrounded by the ministers of Austria and Naples, 
the envoys of the Pope, of the King of Sardinia, of 
the Republics of Genoa and Venice, he had become 
the arbiter of the destinies of Italy. Let us hear what 
an eyewitness, the Count Miot de Melito, says : " It 

114 



THE COURT OF MONTEBELLO. 115 

was in the magnificent castle of Montebello that I 
found Bonaparte, rather in the midst of a brilliant 
court than at the headquarters of an army. Already 
there prevailed a rigid etiquette ; his aides-de-camp 
and officers were no longer received at his table, and 
he was very particular about what guests he received 
there : this was a much-sought-for honor, and one 
only obtained with great difficulty. He dined, so to 
speak, in public ; during his meals there were ad- 
mitted into the dining-room the inhabitants of the 
country, who gazed at him with the greatest interest. 
However, he betrayed no embarrassment or confusion 
at this extreme honor, and received them as if he had 
been accustomed to it all his life. His drawing-rooms 
and a large tent that he had had built in front of the 
castle, on the side of the gardens, were constantly 
filled with a crowd of generals, officials, and purvey- 
ors, as well as with the highest nobles and the most 
distinguished men of Italy, who came to solicit the 
favor of a glance or a moment's interview." 

Austria had sent as its plenipotentiaries to the 
court of Montebello two great nobles : an Austrian, 
the Count of Mersf eld ; and a Neapolitan, the Marquis 
of Gallo, ambassador from Naples at Vienna, the same 
who later was ambassador at Paris, and Minister of 
Foreign Affairs in the reign of Joseph Bonaparte, 
King of Naples, as well as of Murat, who succeeded 
him on the throne. 

At this time Bonaparte had with him his brothers, 
Joseph and Louis, his sister Pauline, and his mother. 



116 CITIZEN ESS BONAPARTE. 

Madame Letitia, who had just come from Marseilles 
and Genoa with two of her daughters: Elisa, later 
Duchess of Tuscany, and Caroline, afterwards Queen 
of Naples. As they passed through Genoa, they found 
that city in tremendous excitement. 

It was the very moment when Lavalette, one of 
Bonaparte's aides-de-camp, had handed to the Doge, 
before the full Senate, this letter, dated May 27, 
1797 : " If, within twenty-four hours after the recep- 
tion of this letter, which I send to you by one of my 
aides-de-camp, you shall not have placed all the 
Frenchmen who are in your prison at the disposition 
of the French Ministry; if you shall not have had 
arrested the men who are exciting the people of 
Genoa against the French ; if, finally, you do not 
disarm this populace, which will be the first to rise 
against you when it shall have perceived. the terrible 
consequences of the errors into which you will have 
led it, — the Minister of the French Republic will 
leave Genoa, and the aristocracy will have existed. 
The heads of the Senators will guarantee to me the 
security of all the Frenchmen who are in Genoa, and 
the united states of the Republic will guarantee their 
property. I beg of you, in conclusion, to have perfect 
confidence in the feelings of esteem and distinguished 
consideration which I nourish for Your Highness's 
person." 

Never before that day had a stranger entered the 
Senate Chamber. The excitement of the city ren- 
dered wild excesses probable. Since Bonaparte had 



THE COUBT OF MONTEBELLO. 117 

not received the letter announcing tlie arrival in 
Italy of his mother and sisters, no precautions had 
been taken, no orders had been given. Madame Le- 
titia might easily be the victim of an uprising of the 
populace. Lavalette's first thought was to stay with 
them, and to defend as well as he could, in case of 
attack ; but Madame Bonaparte was a woman of 
great sense and courage. " I have nothing to fear 
here, so long as my son holds the leading citizens of 
the Republic as hostages. Go back, and tell him 
of my arrival : to-morrow morning I shall continue 
my journey." Lavalette followed her advice, simply 
taking the precaution of letting a few cavalry pickets 
ride ahead of the three ladies. They reached Milan 
without accident, and the next day took up their 
quarters at the castle of Montebello. 

Madame Letitia, who was a very proud woman, 
was highly pleased to see her son enjoying so much 
power and glory. As Sir Walter Scott says in his 
Life of Napoleon Boiiaparte^ " every town, every vil- 
lage, desired to distinguish itself by some peculiar mark 
of homage and respect to him, whom they named the 
Liberator of Italy. . . . Honor beyond that of a 
crowned head was his own, and had the full relish 
of novelty to a mind which two or three years before 
was pining in obscurity. Power was his, and he had 
not experienced its cares and risks ; high hopes Avere 
formed of him by all around, and he had not yet 
disappointed them. He was in the flower of youth, 
and married to the woman of his heart. Above all. 



118 CITIZENESS BONAPARTE. 

he had the glow of Hope, which was marshalling him 
even to more exalted dominion ; and he had not yet 
become aware that possession brings satiety, and that 
all earthly desires and wishes terminate, when fully 
attained, in vanity and vexation of spirit." 

The castle of Montebello was then a most agree- 
able and picturesque place. The excellence of the 
climate, the beauty of the springtime, the entertain- 
ments, the banquets, the picnics, the excursions on 
Lake Maggiore and Lake Como, — this perpetual 
round of duties and pleasures, which give to life 
variety and fulness, made the castle of Montebello 
as fascinating as it was interesting. Arnault, in 
his Souvenirs, describes a dinner there. During 
the meal, the band of the Guides, the best band in 
the army, played military marches and patriotic airs. 
At table the poet sat next to Pauline Bonaparte, 
then a girl of sixteen, who was soon to become 
Madame Leclerc. " If," he says, " she was the pretti- 
est person in the world, she was also the most frivo- 
lous. She had the manners of a schoolgirl, chattering 
continually, giggling at everything and nothing, 
imitating the most serious people, making faces at 
her sister-in-law when she was not looking, poking 
me with her knee when I did not pay enough atten- 
tion to her gambols, and every now and then bringing 
down on herself one of those terrible glances with 
which her brother used to crush the most obdurate 
men ; the next minute she would begin again, and 
the authority of the commander of the Army of 



THE COURT OF 3WNTEBELL0. 119 

Italy succumbed before the giddiness of a young 
girl." 

After dinner they drank coffee on the terrace, not 
going back to the drawing-room till late, and Bona- 
parte took part in the general conversation : he 
arranged the diversions of the company, making 
Madame Leopold Berthier sing, and asking General 
Clarke for stories ; and he told some himself, prefer- 
ring fantastic and terrifying incidents, terrible adven- 
tures, ghost stories, which he made more impressive 
by using his voice in a way that an actor might 
have envied. At the end of the evening many of 
the guests returned to Milan through the strangely 
illuminated country, for every field v/as ablaze with 
thousands of fire-flies which seemed to dance on the 
turf, springing four or five feet into the air. 

" How many memories recur to me," says Mar- 
mont, later the Duke of Ragusa, "of this three 
months' stay at Montebello ! What a busy, impor- 
tant, hopeful, and happy time it was ! Then, ambi- 
tion was a thing of minor importance ; our duties 
and pleasures alone occupied us. We were all on 
the frankest and most cordial terms, and nothing 
occurred to mar our harmony." Surrounded by his 
family, his fellow-soldiers, his lieutenants, who were 
both his servants and his friends, Bonaparte, who 
then desired for every nation only peace, concord, 
and progress, was enjoying a moment of calm. Mar- 
mont describes him at this period, with the air of a 
master in his attitude, his expression, and his voice, 



120 CITIZEN ESS BONAPARTE. 

and in public neglecting no opportunity to maintain 
and augment the universal feeling of respect and 
subjection ; yet, in private life, with his mother, his 
wife, his brothers and sisters, his aides-de-camp, ap- 
pearing kindly, affable even to the point of familiarity, 
fond of fun, yet never offensive, taking part in the 
sports of his fellow-officers, and even persuading the 
solemn Austrian plenipotentiaries to join in them; 
uttering with uncommon eloquence a number of new 
and interesting ideas, — in a word, " possessing at that 
happy time a charm to which no one could be insen- 
sible." 

As for Josephine, whose grace and amiability at- 
tracted every one, she was trying, so to speak, to play 
naturally her next part as sovereign. The highest, 
the most beautiful, the most intelligent ladies of 
Milan, gathered about her, and admired the exquisite 
urbanity, the rare tact, and the unfailing kindness 
with which she did the honors of her drawing-room. 
"When she was leaving Martinique, an old fortune- 
teller had told her, 'You will be more than a queen.' 
Was this prophecy to be realized at once? She 
was adored by a man who aroused universal admira- 
tion, surrounded by everything that could delight a 
woman, and her brow had not yet felt the uneasiness 
the crown sometimes produces." ^ 

Bonaparte continued to be fascinated by his wife, 
and this anecdote which Arnault tells will show 

1 Memoirs concerning General Auguste de Colbert^ by his son, 
the Marquis Colbert de Chabanais. 



THE COUET OF MONTEBELLO. 121 

Josephine's power over her husband. She had a little 
pug dog called Fortune, of which she was extremely 
fond, though he reminded her of a time of great 

. sorrow. When she was imprisoned, in the Reign of 
Terror, she was separated from the Viscount of 
Beauharnais, who was incarcerated elsewhere. Her 
children had permission to come to see her at the 
office, with their governess, but the jailer was always 

/ present at these meetings. It occurred to the gov- 
erness to take Fortune with her; and he made his 
way to Josephine's cell, carrying concealed in his 
collar a letter with all the news. After the 9th of 
Thermidor Josephine would never be parted from 
her pet. One day at Montebello he was lying on the 
sofa with his mistress. " You see that fellow there," 
said Bonaparte to Arnault, pointing at the dog ; " he 
is my rival. When I married I wanted to put him 
out of my wife's room, but I was given to under- 
stand that I might go away myself or share it with 
him. I was annoyed, but it was to take or to leave, 
and I yielded. The favorite was not so accommo- 
dating, and he left his mark on this leg." Insolent 
like all favorites. Fortune had great faults ; he was 
continually barking and used to bite everybody, even 
other dogs. At Montebello he had the imprudence 
to bite the cook's dog, a surly mastiff, who with one 
turn of the head killed the little fellow. Josephine 
was in despair, and the unhappy cook thought him- 
self ruined. A few days afterwards he met the gen- 
eral walking in the garden, and fled in terror. " Why 



122 CITIZENESS BONAPABTE. 

do you run away from me in this way ? " asked Bona- 
parte. " General, after what my dog did — " 
"Well?" "I was afraid that jou would hate the 
sight of me." " Your dog ! Haven't you him 
any longer ? " " Excuse me, General, he never sets 
a paw in the garden, especially since Madame has 
another — " "Let him come in as much as he wants; 
perhaps he will make way with him too." The gen- 
tlest and most indolent of Creoles intimidated the 
most wilful and despotic of men. Bonaparte might 
win battles, do miracles, create or destroy states, but 
he could not put a dog out of the room. 



XII. 



JULY 14 AT IVnLAN. 



ONE thing disturbed Bonaparte in the midst of 
all his success, and that Avas the perpetual 
attacks of the reactionary newspapers of Paris. The 
talk of the drawing-room, the sarcasms of the 
emigres, the unceasing declamation of the Royalist 
Club in the rue de Clichy had the power of exasper- 
ating his irascible nature. Besides, he dreaded the 
Restoration, which was not to take place till seven- 
teen years later, and more than one emigre spoke of 
it as imminent in 1797. Bonaparte was unwilling at 
any price to be the second. The part of a Monk had 
no temptation for him ; and no title, no wealth, could 
have persuaded him to work for any one but himself. 
It is also to be borne in mind, that if he had assumed 
some aristocratic methods, and found pleasure in the 
society of people of the old regime, he commanded 
an army of the most ardent and most sincere Repub- 
licans. He had wrought such miracles with his men, 
only allying himself in appearance, if not in fact, with 
the political passions which were the mainspring of 
their energy and enthusiasm. In their eyes, their gen- 

123 



124 CITIZEN ESS BONAPARTE. 

eral was always the man of the 13th Vend^miaire, 
the terror of the reaction, the sturdy Republican 
who had shattered the Royalist bands. He thought 
the time fitting for a grand Republican ceremony 
which should impress every one by a spectacle in 
harmony with the ideas and passions of the soldiers ; 
consequently he decided that July 14, 1797, the anni- 
versary of the capture of the Bastille, he would ex- 
hibit his troops at Milan under a purely Republican 
aspect, and gave orders for a great military festival 
upon that day, with a programme in perfect harmony 
with the Revolutionary memories and democratic 
sentiments of an army which contained so many 
^Jacobins. This festival was to make an impression 
in Paris and to serve as a prologue to the 18th 
Fructidor. 

This is a programme of the festival as it was 
drawn up by the commander-in-chief : — 

1. At daybreak a salvo of twenty of the largest 
cannon shall announce the festival. 

2. The general shall be beaten at nine in the morn- 
ing. At ten, when the troops start, another salvo 
shall be fired. 

3. A third salvo shall announce the departure of 
the commander-in-chief for the scene of the festival, 
and another salvo shall be fired on his arrival. At 
the same time all the bands shall play the air. Oil 
peut-on etre mieux f 

4. At noon precisely, the troops, after having made 



JULY U AT MILAN. 125 

some manoeuvres, will form in a square about the 
Pyramid. Then first six cannon will be fired for each 
one of the generals, La Harpe, Stengel, and Dubois ; 
then five for each brigadier-general; then for each 
adjutant-general and chief of brigade in the division 
killed since the 23d Germinal, Year IV., the date of 
the battle of Montenotte. 

5. The general commanding the division of Lom- 
bardy will give the flags to each battalion, and six 
cannon shall be fired at the moment he presents them. 

6. The men shall receive double pay, and double 
rations of meat and wine. 

7. The festival will terminate with drill and exer- 
cise. First, artillery practice ; then firing at a target. 
There will be three prizes given to the three best shots. 

8. Then there will be a match with broadswords 
and with rapiers, followed by a foot-race with three 
prizes. 

9. The regimental bands shall play tunes and 
dance-music, and the soldiers, having piled their arms, 
shall be free to stroll about until the drums recall 
them to the ranks. 

10. Officers who own horses and care to enter them 
for the race must have their names registered. The 
course will be from the country-house from which 
the horses started at the last race, to the Arch of Tri- 
umph. 

11. At nightfall the Pyramid and the Altar of 
Country shall be illuminated, and bands placed about 
shall play patriotic dances. 



126 CITIZENESS BONAPARTE. 



It was not among his soldiers alone, it was also 
among the Italians, that Bonaparte developed a love 
of arms and of physical exercise. The whole popula- 
tion of Milan was transformed. In "the schools, the 
streets, the drawing-rooms, in children's games, educa- 
tion, hahits, and public opinion, there was a complete 
change. At the theatre the Italian was no longer 
represented as beaten by the German matador ; it was 
the Italian who beat and drove away the German. A 
martial air and a military spirit fascinated the women. 
Warlike marches took the place of religious songs and 
amorous serenades. Consequently, this celebration 
of July 14 enraptured the Milanese. 

Bonaparte was never happier or prouder than when 
among his soldiers. Every regiment recalled happy 
memories. He had said at Lonato : " I was at ease ; 
the 32d was there ! " And for their sole reward the 
men of the 32d asked to have those few words 
embroidered on their regimental flag. In his account 
of the battle of Favorita, he had spoken of the " ter- 
rible 57th," and the proud 57th, fully rewarded for 
its losses by this one word, adopted henceforth the 
name of '' The Terrible." 

This celebration inflamed the pride and anger of 
the army; it was a great manifestation against Boy- 
alism. On the sides of a high pyramid were inscribed 
the names of the officers and men who had fallen on 
the field of honor since the battle of Montenotte. 
This funereal pyramid rose in the middle of a Field 
of Mars, which was decorated with all the attributes 



JULY U AT MILAN. 127 

representing the victories of the army, as well as the 
emblems of liberty, of the French Republic one and 
indivisible, and of the Constitution of the Year III. 
After different manoeuvres, the troops formed in a 
square around the pyramid. The veterans and the 
wounded marched by, saluted by the troops. Drums 
were beating ; the roar of cannon was incessant. Then 
the general reviewed the troops. When he had 
reached the carabineers of the 11th Regiment of light 
infantry, he said, " Brave carabineers, I am glad to 
see you ; you alone are worth three thousand men." 
In front of the 13th, which formed the garrison at 
Verona, he exclaimed, " Brave soldiers, you see be- 
fore you the names of your comrades murdered before 
your eyes at Verona ; but their shades must be satis- 
fied, — the tyrants have perished with their tyranny." 
The officers of each regiment, preceded by the band, 
went forward to receive the Hags. " Citizens," said 
the commander-in-chief, "may these banners always 
be in the path of liberty and victory ! " While the 
army was marching by, a corporal of the 9th Regiment 
went up to Bonaparte, and said : " General, you have 
saved France. Your men, proud to belong to an 
invincible army, will make a rampart of their bodies. 
Save the Republic ! Let the hundred thousand men 
who compose this army crowd together in defence of 
liberty." And tears ran down the brave soldier's face. 
It is easy to imagine the enthusiasm of these heroes, 
covered with wounds and laurel, proud, and justly 
proud, of themselves, their courage, their triumphs, 



128 CITIZEN ESS BONAPARTE. 



and indignant witli the sarcasms Avliicli certain 
Frenchmen did not blnsh to ntter against all this 
glory and all these sacrifices, so much unselfishness, 
and so many wonders. Inspired by the fumes of 
powder, their general's Republican proclamation, 
and carried away by warlike ardor, the wild applause 
of the crowd, and the grand military spectacle before 
their eyes, by the clash of arms, the sight of the flags, 
the roar of artillery, the trumpets, the drums, and the 
patriotic hymns, on this warm 14th of July, Bona- 
parte's soldiers were wild with wrath against the 
blasphemous defamers of liberty and glory. 

In the evening Bonaparte gave a dinner to the 
officers and veterans, at which he proposed this toast: 
" To the shades of the brave Stengel, who fell on the 
field of Mondovi ; of La Harpe, who died on the field 
of Formbio ; of Dubois, who died at Roveredo ; and 
to all the brave men who died in defence of liberty ! 
May their spirits ever be near us ! They will Avarn 
us of the ambushes set by the enemies of our coun- 
try." This was General Berthier's toast : " To the 
Constitution of the Year III., and to the executive 
Directory of the French Republic ! May it, by its 
firmness, be worthy of the armies and high destinies 
of the Republic, and may it crush all the foes of the 
Revolution, who no longer mask themselves ! " The 
band played Ca ira. This was the toast of a veteran, 
all scarred with wounds, who had lost a limb : " To 
the re-emigration of the emigres ! " Toast of General 
Lannes, still bearing the marks of three wounds he 



JULY U AT MILAN. 129 

had received at Arcole : " To tlie destruction of the 
Club of Clicliy ! The wretches ! They Avish more 
revolutions. May the blood of the patriots they have 
assassinated fall on their own heads ! " The band 
played a charge. 

In the course of the day the different divisions of 
the Army of Italy had signed addresses which were 
sent to the Directory by Bonaparte, and inserted in 
the Moniteu?' of August 12. 

This is the address of Mass^na's division : " Does 
the road to Paris present more difficulties than that 
to Vienna ? No. It will be opened by Republicans 
who have remained 'faithful to liberty; Ave shall 
defend it, and enemies will have perished." 

Division Augereau : " Is it then true, conspirator, 
that you are anxious for war? You shall have it; 
villains, you shall have it. . . . You are crafty, 
astute, faithless, but more than all, you are cowards ; 
and to fight you we have steel, virtues, courage, the 
recollection of our victories, the irresistible ardor of 
liberty. And you, contemptible instruments of your 
masters' crimes, you Avho, in your delirium, dare to 
believe yourself powers, when you are but vile rep- 
tiles ; you who reproach us for having j^rotected your 
property, for having carried far from your walls the 
horrors of war, and for saving the country ; you, in a 
word, who have made scorn, infamy, outrage, and 
death the lot of the defenders of the Republic 
tremble ! From the Adige to the Rhine and the 
Seiiie is but a step ; tremble ! Your iniquities are 



130 CITIZENESS BONAPARTE. 

counted, and their reward is at the point of our 
bayonets." 

Division Bernadotte : " The Republican constitu- 
tion appears to be threatened. Our sensitive and 
generous souls are averse to believing it ; but if the 
fact is true, speak I The same arms which assured 
national independence, the same chiefs who led the 
phalanxes, still exist. With such aid, you have but 
to wish it, to see the conspirators vanish from the 
picture of the living." 

Division Serurier : " Speak, citizen Directors, speak ; 
and at once the wretches who polluted the soil of 
freedom will have ceased to exist. It will doubtless 
suffice to crush them, to summon some of our brave 
companions in arms from the armies of the Rhine 
and Moselle, and of Sambre and Meuse. We yearn 
to share with them the honor of purging France of 
its crudest foes." 

Division Joubert : " What ! the odious Capet who 
for six years parades his shame from nation to nation, 
always pursued by our Republican phalanxes, would 
now bring them under the yoke! If this idea is 
revolting to any citizen whom love of country has 
once touched, how much more so to the old soldiers 
of the Republic ! " 

Division Baraguey d'Hilliers: "We renew the 
solemn oath of hatred to the factions, of war to the 
death to Royalists, of respect and fidelity to the Con- 
stitution of the Year III." 

Division Delmas : " We have sworn to defend, to 



JULY U AT MILAN. 131 

the last drop of our blood, the liberty of our country. 
If it is possible that it should ever perish, we are 
determined to be buried beneath its ruins." 

Division Victor : " No more indulgence, no more 
half-way measures ! The Republic or death ! " 

The day after these addresses were signed by the 
officers and soldiers, Bonaparte wrote to the Direc- 
tory : " The soldier asks eagerly if, in reward for his 
toils and six years of war, he is to be assassinated in his 
hearthstone, at his return, — the fate which threatens 
every patriot. . . . Are there no more Republicans 
in France? After conquering Europe, shall we be 
forced to seek some little corner of the earth in 
which to end our sad lives ? By one stroke you can 
save the Republic, and two hundred thousand lives 
which are bound with our fate, and secure peace 
within twenty-four hours : have the emigres arrested, 
destroy the influence of the foreigners. If you need 
force, summon the armies. Demolish the presses in 
English pay, which are more sanguinary than ever 
Marat was. As for me, citizen Directors, it is im- 
possible for me to live amid such conflicting passions ; 
if there is no way of putting an end to our country's 
sufferings, to crushing the assassinations and influ- 
ence of Louis XVIII., I present my resignation." 

Bonaparte's soldiers looked upon him as a William 
Tell, a Brutus, the terror of tyrants, the saviour of 
liberty. Perhaps there was not a man in his whole 
army who suspected him of not being an ardent Re- 
publican. Yet, at that very moment, when he was, 



132 CITIZENESS BONAPARTE. 



SO to speak, the inspiring spirit of the 18th Fructidor, 
he was abead}^ in intimate conversation, indicating 
his plans of dictatorship and empire. In the Count 
Miot de Melito's Memoirs there is to be noticed a 
very curious revelation : " I happened to be," he 
says, "at Montebello with Bonaparte and Melzi, and 
Bonaparte took us both a long walk in the vast gar- 
dens of this beautiful estate. Our walk lasted about 
two hours, during which time the general talked 
almost incessantly. ' What I have done so far,' he 
said, ' is nothing. I am now only at the beginning 
of my career. Do you think I have been triumphing 
here in Italy for the greater glory of the lawyers of 
the Directory? Do you think it was to establish 
a republic I What an idea ! A republic of thirty 
million men 1 With our morals, our vices, is such a 
thing possible? It is a chimera that fascinates the 
French, but which will pass away like so many 
others. What they need is glory, the gratification of 
the vanity ; but they know nothing of liberty. Look 
at the army. The victories we have already won have 
given the French soldier his real character. I am every- 
thing for liim. Let the Directory think of deposing 
me from my command, and we shall see who is mas- 
ter. The nation demands a man illustrious by repu- 
tation, and not for theories of government, phrases, 
and the speeches of theorists, which the French don't 
understand in the least. Give them a rattle, and 
they are satisfied ; they will amuse themselves with 
it and let themselves be led, provided that one hides 



JULY U AT MILAN. . 133 

the end towards wliich one leads them. ... A party 
is moving in favor of the Bourbons. I do not mean 
to contribute to its triumph. I mean, some day, to 
weaken the Republican party ; but it shall be for my 
own advantage, and not for that of the old dynasty. 
Meanwhile, I shall keep in line with the Republican 
party.' " 

He had to dissimulate for a few years more, and it 
was at the very moment that the young leader thus 
imprudently betrayed to Miot de Melito his most 
secret thoughts, that he assumed this thoroughly 
Revolutionary aspect before the eyes of his army, 
and that by sending Augereau to Paris he prepared 
for the 18th Fructidor, — a day most fatal to the reac- 
tionary party, and full of the most direful results. 
We may say that in these circumstances, Bonaparte, 
who possessed all the Italian craft and astuteness, 
exhibited the skill and genius of a Machiavelli. 



XIII. 

BONAPAKTE AND THE 18TH FRUCTIDOR. 

IN 1797 Bonaparte was a Republican, not, how- 
ever, on account of tlie Republic but for his own 
advantage. What he condemned in the Royalists was 
not that they threatened the Republicans, but that 
they desired to bar his way to the throne. His in- 
dignation with the Royalist reaction was above all 
things the result of personal ambition. Apparently 
he was defending the Republic ; in fact, he was 
laying the foundation of the Empire. 

" I have been blamed," he said one day to Madame 
de Remusat, "with having favored the 18th Fructi- 
dor; it is like blaming me for supporting the Revo- 
lution. It was necessary to get some profit from the 
Revolution, and not let all the blood be shed in vain. 
What ! consent to surrender unconditionally to the 
House of Bourbon, who would have reproached us 
with all our misfortunes after their departure, and 
have silenced us by the desire we had shown for their 
return ! Change our victorious flag for the white 
flag, which had not feared to mingle with the enemy's 
standard! And as for me, I was to be pacified with 

134 



BONAPABTE AND THE ISTH FRUCTIDOR. 135 

a few millions and some clucliy or other ! — There 
is one thing certain : I should have thoroughly 
known how to dethrone the Bourbons a second time 
if it had been necessary, and perhaps the best counsel 
that could have been given them would have been to 
get rid of me." 

Bonaparte's double game never manifested itself 
more clearly than in the preparations for the 18th 
Fructidor. His official envoy to Paris, the man 
whom he sent to the Directory as the official repre- 
sentative of the Republican feeling of his army, and 
as the leader of the approaching coup (Tetat^ was the 
Jacobin general, the child of the Paris suburbs, Auge- 
reau. But at the same time he had sent on a recent 
mission to the capital a man in whom he had perfect 
confidence, — his aide-de-camp, Lavalette, whose man- 
ners and social relations were those of a man of the 
old regime. Through Auger eau, Bonaparte deter- 
mined to act on the Republicans ; through Lavalette, 
on the Royalists. Already, in fact, he was plotting 
the system of fusion which was to be the basis of his 
domestic policy, and later to enable him to give the 
titles of prince and duke to former members of the 
Convention, and to endow regicides with the broad 
ribbons of Austrian orders. Through Augereau, he 
won the confidence of the most ardent democrats ; 
through Lavalette, he protected the families of the 
emigres and Josephine's old friends. His plan was 
to secure for himself the benefits of the cou^o d'etat, 
and to appear to .quell its excesses. By sending 



136 GITIZENESS BONAPABTE. 

Augereau to Paris lie also derived this advantage, 
that he got rid of a general whose noisy Jacobin 
ways displeased him ; for he so dreaded his influence 
as a demagogue that he wrote to Lavalette : " Auge- 
reau is going to Paris ; don't confide in him ; he has 
sown disorder in the army. He is a factious man." 

The Directory soon detected this double play, but 
it regarded Bonaparte as essential for its purposes, 
because his army would serve as a counterpoise to the 
ever-growing reactionary spirit, and it felt too weak 
to break with the conqueror of Italy. Lavalette was 
equally an object of suspicion, and his goings and 
comings, his visits, his letters, and words, were all 
closely watched. The antagonism between Bonaparte 
and B arras, although latent, was already visible to 
those who could look beneath the surface. The 
Directory was about to win a victory which contained 
the seeds of defeat. The 18th Fructidor was to pro- 
duce the 18th Brumaire. 

Madame de Stael, whose drawing-room was a centre 
of influence, was most eager in defence of the Repub- 
lic and bitterly hostile to the reaction : she saw both 
Augereau and Lavalette. "Although Bonaparte," 
she said, " was always talking about the Republic in 
his proclamations, careful observers discerned that it 
was in his eyes a means, not an end. It was in this 
light that he regarded everybody and everything. 
The rumor ran that he wanted to make himself King 
of Lombardy. One day I met General Augereau, 
who had just come from Italy, and was everywhere 



BONAPARTE AND THE ISTH FRUCTIDOB. 137 

looked upon, and I think rightly, as an ardent Repub- 
lican. I asked him if it was true that Bonaparte was 
thinking of making himself king. ' No, certainly not,' 
he answered ; ' he's too well trained for such a thing.' 
This singular answer fitted Avell with the ideas of the 
moment. Earnest Republicans would have consid- 
ered it a degrading thing that a man, however distin- 
guished, should wish to use the Revolution for selfish 
purposes. Why was this view so shortlived among 
the French?"! 

At this period Madame de Stael affected genuine 
adoration of Bonaparte. Lavalette met her at dinner 
at the house of M. de Talleyrand, the Minister of 
Foreign Affairs. " During the whole dinner," he 
says, "her praise of the conqueror of Italy had all the 
fire and exaggeration of inspiration. When we rose 
from table, we all went into a side room to see the 
hero's portrait, and as I drew back to let the others 
pass, she stopped, and said, •■ What ! should I think of 
going before an aide-de-camp of Bonaparte?' My 
confusion was so manifest that even she was a little 
embarrassed, and the master of the house laughed at 
her. I went to see her the next day ; she received 
me so kindly that I often called on her afterwards." 

Madame de Stael at that time nourished two pas- 
sions : for Bonaparte and for the Republic. She, 
more than any one, urged on the coup cTetat of Fruc- 
tidor. "I am convinced," Lavalette says further, 

1 Madame de Stael's Considerations upon the French Revolution. 



138 CITIZEN ESS BONAPARTE. 



" that she had not foreseen the cruelties that would 
be ipflicted on the defeated party, but I never saw 
such zeal in urging them." She herself was alarmed 
by the deed which her words had helped to bring 
about. She records that in the evening of the 17th 
Fructidor, the alarm was so great that most well- 
known persons left their houses for fear of arrest. 
In spite of her Republican zeal, she felt alarmed 
on account of relations with Royalists, One of her 
friends found a hiding-place for her in a little room 
overlooking the bridge Louis XVI. ; there she passed 
the night, looking out on the preparations for the 
terrible events which were to take place a few hours 
later. Only soldiers were to be seen in the streets ; 
all the citizens were indoors. The cannon which 
were massed about the building in which sat the 
Corps Legislatif (the Palais Bourbon) rolled over 
the pavement ; but, with that exception, absolute still- 
ness prevailed. In the morning it was learned that 
General Augereau had led his troops into the Coun- 
cil of the Five Hundred, and there arrested the re- 
actionary deputies. Two of the Directors were pro- 
scribed, and fifty-one representatives were driven in 
wagons through the agitated country, and sent, in 
iron cages, to deadly exile in Cayenne ; the owners, 
editors, and writers of forty-one newspapers were 
likewise all transported; the elections of forty-eight 
deputies were cancelled ; the press was gagged and 
silenced ; the priests and emigres were again driven 
out of the country : such were the consequences of 



BONAPARTE AND THE 18TH FBUCTIDOR. 139 

the 18 til Fructiclor; the triumph of the military spirit. 
As Edgar Quinet says : " All respect for law was 
lost; nothing was seen or admired but the drawn 
sword. . . . After the victory of the soldiers, there 
was nothing left to do but to crown a soldier." 

It was Bonaparte who was to get all the profit from 
the 18th Fructidor; but before the Royalists of Paris, 
whom he was treating gently, with an eye to the 
future, he wished to appear as disapproving of the 
excesses of a day which was to be of so great service 
to him. Lavalette wrote to him that he would tar- 
nish his glory if he appeared to give his support 
to unjustifiable assaults upon the national representa- 
tives and upon worthy citizens. These views made 
so deep an impression upon Bonaparte that, during 
the days that preceded the coup d'etat^ Bonaparte, in 
his letters to the Directory, abstained from expressing 
himself on the domestic affairs of France. Lavalette 
had passed the evening of the 17th Fructidor at the 
Luxembourg with Barras. From the ill-concealed 
excitement of the Director's courtiers, he conjectured 
what was in the wind, and went away early, deter- 
mined not to make his appearance there the next 
day, because he did not wish, by his presence, to 
make it seem that Bonaparte approved of such vio- 
lent measures. 

Nevertheless, Lavalette went to see Barras the 
next day but one. The Director said to him in a 
very threatening way : " You have betrayed the Re- 
public and your general. For more than six weeks 



140 CITIZENESS BONAPARTE. 



the government has received no private letters 
from him: your opinion on recent events is well 
known, and we do not doubt that you have painted 
our conduct in the blackest colors ; I want to tell 
you that last evening the Directory seriously dis- 
cussed the question whether you should not share 
the fate of the conspirators who are on their way to 
Guiana. Out of regard for General Bonaparte, you 
remain at large; but I have this moment sent my 
secretary to enlighten him on what has taken place 
and on your conduct." 

Lavalette replied with perfect coolness : " You are 
quite mistaken; I have betrayed no one. The 18th 
is a calamity; I can never be convinced that the 
government has the right to punish blindly the rep- 
resentatives of the people, to break every law. For 
six weeks I have written nothing else ; and if you 
wish to convince yourself of this fact, here is the key 
of my desk ; you may seize my papers." Lavalette 
lingered a few days in Paris, lest his hasty departure 
should be ascribed to fear. Before starting, he visited 
General Augereau, to see if he could do anything for 
him. The general spoke about Bonaparte with great 
indifference, and about the 18th Fructidor with 
much more enthusiasm than he would have shown 
about the battle of Arcole. "Do you know," he 
said, "that you ought to have been shot for your 
conduct ? But don't be alarmed ; you may count on 
me." Lavalette smiled, and thanked him; but he 
saw that it was useless to put this kindness to the 



BONAPARTE AND THE ISTH FRUCTIDOB. 141 

test, and the next day he left for Italy. He left 
Paris the 1st Vendemiaire, when the Directory, the 
ministers, and all the constituted authorities were 
proceeding to the Champ de Mars to celebrate the 
first day of the Year VI. of the Republic. 

For his part, Bonaparte, who posed before his 
army, which was entirely made up of Republicans, 
as an ardent supporter of the 18th Fructidor, had 
addressed the following proclamation to his troops: 
" Soldiers, we are about to celebrate the 1st Vende- 
miaire, a date most dear to the French ; it will be a 
day of renown in the world's annals. This is the 
day from which dates the foundation of the great 
nation ; and the great nation is called by fate to 
astonish and console the world. Soldiers, far from 
your country, and triumphant over Europe, chains 
had been prepared for you ; you knew it, you spoke 
of it ; the people awoke and seized the traitors ; they 
are already in irons. You will learn, from the proc- 
lamation of the Executive Directory, the plots of the 
special enemies of the soldiers, and particularly of 
the divisions of the Army of Italy. This preference 
does us honor ; hatred of traitors, tyrants, and slaves 
will be in history our proudest title to glory and 
immortality." 

It was not Bonaparte alone who thus played the 
part of the fanatical Republican : there was Talley- 
rand, too, the former bishop, — Talleyrand who, some 
years later, at the Vienna Congress, was to speak of 
legitimacy with so much fervor. ' He wrote to Bona- 



142 CITIZEN ESS BONAPARTE. 



parte four days after the 18th Fructiclor : " A real 
conspiracy, and wholly to the profit of Royalty, had 
long been plotting against the Constitution. Already 
it had cast off its mask, and had become visible to 
the most indifferent eyes. The name of patriot had 
become an insult ; every Republican institution was 
insulted; the bitterest foes of France had returned 
to it, and had been welcomed and honored. A hj^po- 
critical fanaticism had suddenly carried us back to 
the sixteenth century. . . . The first day speedy 
death was decreed for any one who should recall 
Royalty, the Constitution of '93, or the d'Orleans." 

When Lavalette got back from Paris, he found 
Bonaparte installed at Passeriano, and he gave the 
fullest details of everything that had happened. The 
general asked, " Why, with such scornful processes, 
so much weakness ? Then why such rashness, when 
boldness was enough? It was a piece of cowardice 
not to try Pichegru; his treason was flagrant, and 
the evidence was more than enough to condemn him. 
. . . Force is very well when one can use nothing 
else ; but when one is master, justice is better." 
Then he continued his walk in the garden in silence. 
Finally, lie added, as he took leave of Lavalette, 
" On the whole, this revolution will prove a good 
spur to the nation." In fact, the real conqueror of 
the 18th Fructidor was not the Directory; it was 
Bonaparte. 



XIV. 



PASSERIAKO. 



TOWARDS the middle of September, 1797, 
Bonaparte, accompanied by his wife, — liis fam- 
ily bad left after Pauline's marriage with General 
Leclerc, — had taken up his quarters in the Friuli, 
at the castle of Passeriano, there to conclude diplo- 
matic negotiations with the Austrian government. 
This was a fine country-place belonging to Manin, the 
former doge, and was on the left bank of the Tagli- 
amento, four leagues from Udine, and three from 
the ruins of Aquileia. Here the warrior appeared as 
a peace-maker. Being secured against the Royalists 
by the cowj) cVetat of the 18th Fructidor, from which 
he got the profit without the odium, he at once 
appeared in the light of a conservative, and in his 
relations with the Austrian plenipotentiaries he re- 
membered with pleasure that his wife was of high 
rank and that he himself was a gentleman. He 
already manifested his pretensions to noble birth of 
which Prince Metternich speaks in his Memoirs. 
According to the famous Austrian diplomatist, he set 
great store by his nobility and the antiquity of his 

143 



144 CITIZENESS BONAPARTE. 



family, " More than once," adds Prince Metternich, 
"he has tried to prove to me that only envy and 
calumny have been able to throw any doubts on his 
nobility. ' I am in a singular position,' he used to 
say. ' There are genealogists who trace my family 
back to the deluge, and others say that I am of low 
birth. The truth lies between the two. The Bona- 
partes are good Corsican gentlemen, not famous, 
because we have seldom left the island, and a good 
deal better than many of the coxcombs who pre- 
sume to look down on us.' " 

The Austrian plenipotentiaries were Count Louis 
de Cobenzl, the Marquis of Gallo, General Count 
Mersfeld, and M. de Ficquelmont. Count Cobenzl 
was at that time leading Austrian diplomatist. 
He had been ambassador to the principal Euro- 
pean courts, and for a long time in Russia, during 
the reign of Catherine the Great, whose especial 
esteem he had succeeded in winning. "Proud of 
his rank and importance," we read in the Memorial 
of Saint Helena^ " he had not a doubt that his man- 
ners and familiarity with courts would easily over- 
whelm a general who had risen from the camps of the 
Revolution ; consequently he met the French gen- 
eral with a certain levity, but the air and the first 
remarks with which he was greeted soon put him in 
his proper place, in which he remained ever after." 
M. de Cobenzl was an accomplished man of the 
world, a true representative of the old regime. He 
was a brilliant and witty talker, who told most cleverly 



PASSERIAJSfO. 145 



stories of every court of Europe ; he was famous for 
his social skill, and he greatly amused Madame 
Bonaparte, who found in him the manners of the 
old court of Versailles. 

The Marquis of Gallo, a most acute, supple, and 
conciliating man, was not an Austrian ; he was a 
Neapolitan, and ambassador from Naples to the court 
of Vienna. There he had won such regard that 
Austria, chose him for one of its plenipotentiaries. 

" Yours is not a German name," Bonaparte said to 
him the first time he saw him. '' You are right," 
answered the Marquis of Gallo ; " I am ambassador 
from Naples." " And since when," asked the French 
general dryly, " have I had to treat with Naples ? 
We are at peace. Has not the Emperor of Austria 
any more negotiators of the old stamp? Is all the 
old Viennese aristocracy extinct?" The Marquis, 
who feared lest these remarks should come to the 
official notice of the Vienna cabinet, at once devoted 
himself to smoothing down Bonaparte, who at once 
became gentle, being perfectly satisfied with having 
got an advantage over the Marquis which he never 
lost. The Marquis of Gallo, who later was ambassa- 
dor from the Bourbons of Naples to the First Con- 
sul, then ambassador from King Joseph Bonaparte 
to the Emperor Napoleon, confessed to him frankly, 
when speaking of their first meeting, that no one had 
ever in his life so frightened him. 

The two other plenipotentiaries were General von 
Mersfeld, a distinguished officer, an upright man, of 



146 CITIZEN ES8 BONAPARTE. 

fine manners, and M. de Ficquelmont, who was thor- 
oughly versed in all the Austrian statecraft. Their 
meetings were held at Bonaparte's headquarters at 
Passeriano, and at the residence of the Austrian plen- 
ipotentiaries, at Udine, alternately. The negotiators 
took turns in dining at each other's houses. Distrac- 
tions were fewer than at Montebello, but life there 
was not wholly without charm. " Our stay at Pas- 
seriano," says the Duke of Ragusa, " comes back most 
pleasantly to my memory ; it had a quality that was 
nowhere repeated. . . . We devoted ourselves to 
active exercise, to maintain our strength and develop 
our skill ; yet we did not neglect study and the cul- 
tivation of our mind. Monge and BerthoUet used to 
teach us every evening ; Monge giving us lessons in 
that science of which he established the principles, 
now so well known, — descriptive geometry." 

It was at Passeriano that General Desaix visited 
Bonaparte. They spent several days together, and 
became much attached to each other. " Desaix," 
adds the Duke of Ragusa, "had not forgotten my 
prophecies, so quickly realized, about General Bona- 
parte ; he reminded me of them as soon as he saw me. 
He expressed to General Bonaparte his desire to ac- 
company him on his next camjDaign. It was from 
this visit that dates the first thought of the campaign 
in Egypt. Bonaparte liked to talk about this classic 
land ; his mind was full of memories of history, and 
he took great pleasure in forming more or less feasi- 
ble plans about the East." 



PASSEBIANO. 147 



Bonaparte's aides-de-camp found a peaceful pleas- 
ure in this agreeable stay at Passeriano ; but the gen- 
eral had most serious matters to fill his mind, and 
his relations with the Directory, whose servant after 
all he was, became every day more strained. He 
regarded it a special token of their distrust that 
Bottot, the private secretary of Barras, had been 
sent to Passeriano. At table he loudly and frankly, 
before twenty or thirty persons, used to accuse the 
government of injustice and ingratitude. He sus- 
pected the Directors of trying to make use of Auge- 
reau as a rival, and with similar craft and subtlety he 
kept writing and saying that his health and energy 
were destroyed; that he needed a few years' rest; 
that he was unable to get on a horse ; but that nev- 
ertheless the prosperity and liberty of his country 
always excited his liveliest interest. What would 
he have done if the Directory had taken him at his 
word? 

With regard to diplomatic questions his opinions 
differed fundamentally from those of the government. 
He was convinced that peace was possible only on 
the condition of sacrificing Venice to Austria. The 
Directory, on the other hand, considering that the 
French Republic could not without dishonor abandon 
a republic to a monarch, desired not only Venetian 
independence, but that the whole peninsula should 
be made republican, that the temporal power of the 
Pope should be broken, and the kingdoms of Pied- 
mont and Naples destroyed. This radical policy in 



148 CITIZEN ESS BONAPARTE. 

no way suited Bonaparte's views. He knew that in 
order to attain supreme power he should need the 
clergy ; and although he had so often declaimed 
against tyrants, he thought it better to show some 
consideration for the sovereigns Avhom within a few 
years he should have to treat as brothers. The atti- 
tude which he adopted at Passeriano bespeaks such 
calculations. A clear-sighted observer might have 
already detected, in this tool of the Directory, the 
First Consul and Emperor. By his education, his 
tastes, his marriage, his ideas and principles, he 
belonged to both the old society and the Revolution. 
From each he took what aid he could, for the grati- 
fication of his ambition and the realization of his 
dreams. " My campaign was not a bad one," he said 
one day to Madame de Remusat, speaking of this 
period of his life. " I became an important person for 
Europe. On one hand, by means of my order of the 
day, I encouraged the Revolutionary system ; on the 
other, I secretly won the emigres; I let them form 
hopes. It's always easy to deceive that party, be- 
cause they never think of what is, but of what they 
want. I received most magnificent offers if only I 
would follow General Monk's example. The Preten- 
der wrote to me, in his hesitating, flo^very style. I 
secured the Pope more by not going to Rome than 
if I had burned his capital. Finally, I became impor- 
tant and formidable ; yet the Directory, which was 
uneasy about me, could bring no charge against me." 
Never was the skilful dissimulation, which was one 



PASSEEIANO. 149 



of the principal qualities of Bonaparte's character, 
more ingenious and more refined. He wrote to the 
Directory : " My moral condition requires that I min- 
gle with the mass of citizens. A great power has 
too long been entrusted to my hands. In every case 
I have employed it for the good of my country : so 
much the worse for those who, believing in no virtue, 
may have suspected mine. My reward is my own 
conscience and the verdict of posterity." October 1, 
1797, he wrote to Talleyrand : " All that I am now 
doing, all the arrangements I am now settling are 
the last service I can render my country. My health 
is wholly destroyed; health is indispensable, and, in 
war, nothing can take its place. The government 
will doubtless, in accordance with my request of 
a week ago, have appointed a commission of publi- 
cists to organize a free Italy ; new plenipotentiaries 
to continue or renew the negotiations ; and, finally, 
a general to whom it can entrust the command of the 
army, for I know no one who can take my place 
in these three equally interesting posts." 

The Directory was jealous and suspicious ; it al- 
ready had a presentiment that it would find its master 
in Bonaparte ; but it rivalled him in dissimulation, 
and, in refusing to accept his resignation, made pro- 
testations of friendship which were anything but 
sincere. Bottot, Barras's secretary, wrote to Bona- 
parte, after his return from Passeriano to Paris, that 
his last moments at Passeriano had sorely distressed 
his heart ; that cruel thoughts had accompanied him 



150 CITIZENESS BONAPARTE. 



to the very doors of the Directory ; but that these 
cruel thoughts had been dispelled by seeing the 
admiration and affection which the Directors felt for 
the conqueror of Italy. In spite of these protesta- 
tions, which on both sides were mere political manoeu- 
vring, the hostility between Barras and Bonaparte, 
although lessened by Josephine's secret influence, 
was yet plain to clear-sighted eyes, and was to cease 
only with the act of violence of the 18th Brumaire. 



XY. 



JOSEPHINE AT VENICE. 



WHILE Bonaparte was at Passeriano, Josephine 
went to spend a few days at Venice, which 
had been occupied by a French garrison since May 16. 
Its old aristocracy had been overthrown, and a law- 
yer, Dandolo, had put himself at the head of the 
provisional government. Bergamo, Brescia, Padua, 
Vicenza, Bassano, Udine, were all separate republics. 
Everywhere were adopted the principles of the 
French Revolution ; the Italian national colors were 
adopted, a confederation was formed. The proud 
Venetian Republic hoped to preserve its independ- 
ence, but it was not without a secret uneasiness as 
to the negotiations at Passeriano. Its former atti- 
tude of haughtiness and hostility to Bonaparte and 
the French had become one of obsequiousness and 
entreaty. It besought the young conqueror to visit 
it, and promised him the most unheard-of ovations ; 
but Bonaparte had already decided to abandon Ven- 
ice to Austria in return for Mantua and the Adige, 
and he did not dare to show himself in a city which 
his plans were about to ruin. He clearly perceived 

151 



152 CITIZEN ESS BONAPARTE. 

that after the ultra-democratic proclamations which 
he had written, after the solemn sending to Paris of 
busts of Junius and Marcus Brutus, he would appear 
very inconsistent if he were to give over a republic, 
bound hand and foot, to an emperor. If he had gone 
to receive on the square of Saint Mark the applause 
which the expiring city promised him, he would seem 
to have played a traitor's part. His spirit of dissimu- 
lation did not go so far as that; but Josephine, who \ 
was not admitted to diplomatic secrets, might go to 
the Venetian festivities as to a simple pleasure-party. 
She was averse to leaving Italy without seeing this 
wonderful and famous city, and she got her husband's 
leave to go there under the escort of Marmont. She 
appeared at the City of the Doges, with all her usual 
grace, kindliness, and amiability. " To see her so 
affable and so smiling towards every class of society, 
no one would have suspected the dark plans which her \. 
husband was weaving against the independence of 
the noble and illustrious Republic. Doubtless Venice 
was at fault : its neutrality had been neither prudent 
nor loyal ; the Veronese Vespers had been a grave 
crime. But the punishment was terrible, and what 
would be the feelings of the patriots who were soon 
to see that most terrible sight, — the annihilation of 
their country?" 

Yet Venice was still rejoicing; the credulous 
populace still nourished illusions; so easy is it to 
believe what one hopes. The nobility of the main- 
land, with its long-lived jealousy of the aristocracy 



JOSEPHINE AT VENICE. 153 

of the lagoons, saw with pleasure the fall of the 
oligarchy which it detested. The middle classes, 
fancying themselves emancipated, noisily welcomed 
the triumph of French ideas. As to the rabble, they 
thought no more of the past, and scarcely considered 
the future ; delighted with the festivities, they gave 
themselves up to the pleasures awaiting them with 
true southern enthusiasm. 

The Venetians, with the best will in the world, 
being unable to prostrate themselves before the man 
who held their fate in his hands, spared no pains at 
the reception of his wife, to devise what could grat- 
ify and flatter her. Madame Bonaparte spent four 
days at Venice ; it was one perpetual magical en- 
chantment. The City of the Doges is most beautiful 
with its wealth of marble palaces and magnificent 
monuments, its pictures and frescoes, the master- 
pieces of Tintoretto, Titian, the two Palmas, Paul 
Veronese, with its Piazza of Saint Mark, its won- 
derful cathedral, its Ducal Palace, rich in treasures 
and memories ! The visitor is overwhelmed with 
admiration and respect when he enters the cele- 
brated Greater Council Chamber, which in its won- 
derful pictures condenses the history of the Queen 
of the Adriatic just as the grand gallery of Versailles 
records the history of the Sun King ! Here one 
sees popes come to seek shelter in Venice, emperors 
entreating its alliance, accepting its mediation; one 
sees its fleets conquering islands, its armies scaling 
ramparts, its victories on land and sea, and in the 



154 CITIZENESS BONAPARTE. 

middle of the ceiling, the Republic, in the form of a 
radiant woman, smiling at the display of its wealth 
and grandeur ; then there is the series of the por- 
traits of all the doges, from the first, Luca Anafeste, 
elected in 697, to the last, Manini, who, eleven 
hundred years afterwards, had just been deposed by 
the French ! A singular omen : the portrait of the 
Doge Manini filled the only place left empty at the 
time of his election : there was no room for a suc- 
cessor. But the Venetians did not trouble them- 
selves about this gloomy sign; they had but one 
care, — to give Madame Bonaparte a grand reception. 
The first day the Grand Canal was in gala dress. 
A hundred and fifty thousand spectators filled the 
windows and roofs that overlooked it. There were 
boat-races ; five or six long and narrow boats, pro- 
pelled by but one man, contended over the course 
which ran from the beginning of the canal to the 
Rialto. The second day, a trip in the boats; all the 
gondolas were covered with flowers and garlands. 
The third day, another excursion, but by night, when 
palaces, houses, gondolas, were all illuminated : it was 
like a sea of flame ; fireworks of many colors were 
reflected in the water, and the evening closed with 
a ball in the Ducal Palace. "If one reflects," says 
Marmont, " of the advantages which its situation 
gives to Venice, of the beauty of its architecture, of 
the endless movement of crowded boats, which make 
it look like a moving city, if one thinks of the efforts 
such circumstances called forth in this imasfinative 



JOSEPHINE AT VENICE, 155 

people with their exquisite taste and unbounded love 
of pleasure, one may conjecture the spectacle that 
was offered us. It was not Venice, the seat of power, 
but Venice, the house of beauty and pleasure." 

No, it was no longer Venice in its power, — " Ven- 
ice," as Chateaubriand says, " the wife of the Adri- 
atic and Queen of the Seas, the Venice which gave 
emperors to Constantinople and kings to Cyprus, 
princes to Dalmatia, to the Peloponnesus, to Crete ; 
the Venice which humiliated the Caesars of Germany; 
the Venice of which monarchs esteemed it an honor 
to be the citizens ; the Venice which, republican in 
the midst of feudal Europe, served as a buckler to 
Christianity; the Venice, planter of lions, whose 
doges were scholars, whose merchants, knights ; the 
Venice which brought back from Greece conquered 
turbans or recovered masterpieces ; the Venice which 
triumphed by its splendor, its courtesans, and its arts, 
as well as by its great men ; Venice, at once Corinth, 
Athens, and Carthage, adorning its head with rostral 
crowns and diadems of flowers." No, it was no longer 
the former Venice. A profound decadence was visi- 
ble in these festivities given in honor of Madame 
Bonaparte. What had become of that freest of cities 
which had maintained its independence since its foun- 
dation in the fifth century ? Where were the famous 
bronze horses that had pawed the air above the en- 
trance of Saint Mark's? They had been sent to Paris 
as part of the spoils. And the famous lion, the lion 
of the holy patron of Venice? He had suffered the 



156 CITIZENESS BONAPARTE. 

same fate. The great saint whose relics are in the 
church founded in the beginning of the ninth century 
by the liberality of Justinian Participazio no longer 
protected the city which had so trusted in him. Ah ! 
what had become of her wdio 

" looks a sea Cybele, fresh from ocean, 
Rising with her tiara of proud towers 
At airy distance, with majestic motion, 
A ruler of the waters and their powers : 

******* 

In youth she was all glory, — a new Tyre, — 

Her very byword sprung from victory, 

The ' Planter of the Lion,' which through fire 

And blood she bore o'er subject earth and sea ; 

Though making many slaves, herself still free, 

And Europe's bulwark 'gainst the Ottomite. 

Witness Troy's rival, Candia ! Vouch it, ye 

Immortal waves that saw Lepanto's fight! 

For ye are names no time nor tyranny can blight." 

— Cliilde Harold, Canto IV. 

It is all over ; no more shall be seen the wedding 
of the doges and the Adriatic ! And where is the 
Bucentaur^ the famous barge resembling Cleopatra's, 
the huge carved boat, with golden rigging? Where 
is the time when the Doge put forth from Venice in 
the Bucentaur^ and, proceeding in triumph to the 
passage of the Lido, cast into the sea a consecrated 
ring, uttering these sacramental words : " Desponsa- 
mus te^ mare^ in signum veri perpetuique domiiiii^''^ — 
"Sea, we marry you in sign of true and everlasting 
dominion ! " The ambassadors of every power, even 
the Pope's nuncio, seemed by their presence to recog- 



JOSEPHINE AT VENICE. 157 

nize the validity of this mystical marriage. What 
has become of the Bucentaurf At first it had been 
intended to send it to France in tow of some frigate ; 
but for fear lest it should be captured on the way by 
some English cruiser, it was decided to burn it. Also 
there was burned that famous Book of Gold, in which 
patricians, even monarchs thems_elves, were proud to 
have their names inscribed. Venice, instead of re- 
joicing, had better have put on sackcloth, and the 
flowers with which it decked itself in its folly Avould 
have been better thrown on the coffin of its independ- 
ence and glory ! Its cries of joy seemed sounds of 
irony. The song of the gondoliers should have been 
a funeral wail. The authority which presided over 
its festivities was not a majestic and formidable doge, 
but a foreigner, a Creole woman, who must have been 
surprised to appear amid the lagoons like a real queen. 



XVI. 



CAMPO FOEMIO. 



THE diplomatic negotiations still went on, but the 
time was coming near when they would have to 
be brought to some settlement or to be broken off. 
Bonaparte's situation, in spite of wonderful victories, 
continued to be critical. He was acting in a sense 
opposed to the orders of his government, and could 
only succeed by imposing his will upon it. At any 
moment there might arrive a messenger from Paris 
with a despatch that would at once overthrow the 
scaffolding he had so carefully constructed. He had 
more fear of the Directory than of Austria, and it 
was from the Luxembourg that came his principal 
difficulties. Bonaparte was about to send a double 
ultimatum, one for the Austrian government, the 
other for his own. By his private letters he had pre- 
pared Talleyrand, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, 
for the settlement on which he had already deter- 
mined, and foreseeing the agreement which was to 
exist between himself and this once great lord, he 
had assumed in his communications airs of sympathy 
and confidence. In this correspondence he made 

158 



CAMPO FORMIO. 159 



short work of the Italian forces and of the revolu- 
tionary propaganda. He said : " I have no Italians 
in my army, except about fifteen hundred vagabonds 
picked up in the streets of the different cities. They 
are thievish, good-for-nothing fellows. . . . You im- 
agine that liberty produces great results from a 
weak, superstitious people. . . . The King of Sar- 
dinia, with a battalion and a squadron, is stronger 
than all the Cisalpine people together. That is a 
historic fact. All that is only fit to put into procla- 
mations and printed speeches is mere romantic stuff. 
... If we were to happen to adopt the external 
policy of 1793, we should make all the greater mis- 
take because we have done well with the opposite 
policy, and we no longer have those great masses to 
recruit from, or that first outburst of enthusiasm 
which lasts but a short time." Being anxious to 
sacrifice the Venetians, he wrote, " They are a 
feeble, effeminately cowardly race, without land or 
v/ater, of whom we have no need." 

At this very moment he received from the Direc- 
tory an order to revolutionize all Italy. This was 
the ruin of his plan, because he was anxious to main- 
tain the Papal States, the kingdoms of Naples and 
Saidinia, and to give up Venice to Austria, while 
the Directory desired not only to save the Venetian 
Republic, but also to transform all the Italian States 
without exception into republics. The divergence 
of their views was complete. No one but Bonaparte 
would have dared to act in opposition to the letters 



160 CITIZENE88 BONAPAETE. 

and spirit of tlie government's instructions, but 
already he depended only on himself. Paying no 
attention to the Directory, he followed only his own 
inspirations, and, October 16, he had an interview 
with the four plenipotentiaries, which was destined 
to be decisive. Count Cobenzl announced that Aus- 
tria would never renounce Mayence except in 
exchange for Mantua. Bonaparte, however, was de- 
termined that Mantua should remain in the Cisal- 
pine Republic. A violent scene resulted from disa- 
greement. Bonaparte arose in a fury, and stamping 
on the ground, exclaimed, "You want war; well, 
you shall have it ! " And seizing a magnificent porce- 
lain teaset which M. de Cobenzl used to boast every 
day that Catherine the Great had given him, 
dashed it with all his might upon the floor, shivering 
it into a thousand fragments. " See I " he shouted 
again ; " such, I promise you, shall be your Austrian 
monarchy before three months are over I " Then he 
rushed out of the room. 

Bonaparte was playing everything on one throw; 
he had smashed Count Cobenzl's porcelain, but was 
it so sure, if the Count had taken him at his word 
and the negotiations had been broken off, that he 
would have destroyed the Austrian monarchy so eas- 
ily as he said? Was it certain that he would not be 
disavowed by the Directory? Would Paris have 
pardoned him for sacrificing Venice and refusing to 
revolutionize all Italy ? Did he not run the risk of 
receiving that same evening a despatch which would 



CAMPO FOEMIO. 161 



upset his whole work? As on the battle-fielcl, he 
adopted the boklest plan, and Avith no fear of the 
consequences that might ensue from his simulated 
wrath, he hastened the final result. A secret pre- 
sentiment told him that he would overcome every 
obstacle, Avhether on the part of Austria or of the 
Directory, and that events would take the course he 
desired; that he was the master. And, in fact, every- 
thing conspired to further his plans. He was enjoy- 
ing one of those runs of luck when the g^ambler sud- 
denly wins everything and is amazed at his own good 
fortune. He knew very well that if the treaty were 
once signed, the Directory would not dare to refuse 
its ratification. As he rushed from the room, he in a 
loud voice ordered word to be sent to the Archduke 
Charles that hostilities would be resumed in twenty- 
four hours, and sprang into his carriage without 
seeming to notice the entreating gestures of the Mar- 
quis of Gallo, who, with many low bows, was begging 
him not to depart. 

The next day the scene had changed. M. Cobenzl, 
on second thoughts, decided to accede to Bonaparte's 
proposition; and the French general, for his part, 
tried his best, by the utmost amicability, to secure a 
pardon for his pretended wrath of the day before. 
That same day (October 17, 1797) was signed the 
peace which took its name from the village of Campo 
Formio, which lies half-way between Udine and Pas- 
seriano. "Yet," says the Duke of Ragusa in his 
Memoirs, "not a single conference had been held 



162 CITIZEN ESS BONAPARTE. 

there ; it was merely tlie place wliere the treaty was 
signed. I was despatched thither to make the neces- 
sary preparations, and at the same time to invite the 
plenipotentiaries to push on to Passeriano, to which 
they very graciously assented. They signed before 
dinner, dating the treaty at Campo Formio, where 
the preparations had been made for form's sake ; and 
doubtless there are still shown in this village the room 
in which the great event took place and the pen and 
table that were used. It is with these relics as with 
so many others." The copying of the treaties took 
all day ; there were no more discussions. General 
Bonaparte was full of a charming gaiety, and, remain- 
ing in the drawing-room, he asked that no candles be 
brought when it became dark. They amused them- 
selves with conversation and even with ghost stories, 
as if they were all staying together in some old castle. 
At last, towards ten o'clock, Avord was brought that 
the copies were finished. Bonaparte signed gaily. 
At midnight General Berthier was on his way to 
Paris with a copy of the treaty. Twelve hours later 
a messenger from the Directory reached Passeriano, 
bearing positive orders which would have prevented 
Bonaparte from signing the treaty if he had received 
them the evening before. 

He felt anxious about the ratification. Would 
the Directory consent to the destruction of the Vene- 
tian Republic ? Would the provisory government of 
Venice make one final effort to save the independ- 
ence of the country? It commissioned three dele- 



CAMPO FOBMIO. 163 



gates, one of whom was the lawyer Dandolo, to go 
to Paris and spend whatever money was necessary to 
prevent the ratification of the treaty. The Duke of 
Ragusa remarks that this step, if it had succeeded, 
would have been the ruin of Bonaparte, the tomb of 
his glory ; he would have been denounced to France 
and to Europe, as having exceeded his powers and 
as having, through corrupt means, shamefully aban- 
doned a people and enslaved a republic. He would 
have disappeared forever from the scene in the 
deepest disgrace. Consequently, as soon as he 
learned of the departure of the Venetian delegates 
for France, his only thought was to have them ar- 
rested on the way. Duroc, who was sent in pursuit 
of them, seized them and brought them to Milan, 
where Bonaparte was. " I was in the room of the 
commander-in-chief," Marmont continues, "when he 
received them ; the violence of his remarks may be 
readily conjectured. They listened with quiet dig- 
nity; and when he had finished, Dandolo replied. 
-Dandolo, who generally possessed no courage, was 
on that day filled with it by the greatness of his 
cause. He spoke easily, and was indeed eloquent. 
He enlarged upon the benefits of independence and 
liberty, on what a good citizen owes to his country. 
The force of his reasoning, his sincerity, his deep 
emotion, brought tears to Bonaparte's eyes. He made 
no reply, but dismissed the deputies most gently and 
kindly ; and ever since he has felt for Dandolo a con- 
stant kindness and fondness. He has always sought 



164 CITIZENESS BONAPARTE. 

for an opportunity to advance and benefit liim ; and 
yet Dandolo was a very ordinary man : but this man 
had stirred his heart by his lofty sentiments, and the 
impression he made has never faded." 

In spite of the sorrow of the Directory, the Direc- 
tory did not dare to refuse the ratification of a treaty 
which gave to France its natural boundaries, and rec- 
ognized in Northern Italy the existence of a new 
republic founded on the principles of the French 
Revolution. " Peace at last," wrote Talleyrand, 
" and a peace such as Bonaparte desires ! Receive my 
warmest congratulations, my dear General. Words 
fail me to describe everything that is felt at this time. 
The Directory is satisfied; the public delighted; 
everything is in the best condition. To be sure, we 
shall hear some lamentations from Italy ; but that's 
nothing. Farewell, peacemaking General, farewell! 
friendship, respect, admiration, gratitude — there's no 
end to the list." France, always mercurial, at that 
moment was longing for peace as ardently as, a few 
weeks before, it had longed for war. Bonaparte had 
consulted his own interests at a most propitious 
moment, and yet every one was praising his disin- 
terestedness. It was thought most admirable of him 
to renounce, out of patriotism, the game of battles 
for which his genius so well adapted him. He was 
compared to Cincinnatus returning to his plough ; he 
was everywhere represented as a model of self-denial. 
The Mo7iiteur, which doubtless was controlled by 
his friends, was preparing to make his return very 



CAMPO FORMIO. 165 



impressive. Everything was arranged for this pur- 
pose. The journey from Passeriailo to Paris was to 
inspire a host of stories to strike the imagination of 
the masses and arouse public curiosity. Letters full 
of the minutest details of this triumphal progress 
appeared in swift abundance in the Monitem% adding 
to the extreme interest which was felt in the slightest 
actions and most insignificant remarks of the con- 
queror of Italy. When he passed through Mantua, 
he slept in the palace of the former dukes. In the 
evening the whole city Avas illuminated. The next 
day he reviewed the garrison ; then he went to Saint 
George, where there took place a military celebration 
in memory of General Hoclie, and at noon he em- 
barked on a boat, to see the monument he had had 
built in honor of the prince of Latin poets. He 
parted from Josephine, who stayed some time longer 
in Italy with her son Eugene ; and November 17, 
1797, left Milan for Rastadt, where a congress was 
in session, destined to extend to the whole German 
Empire the peace concluded between France and 
Austria. 



XVII. 

Bonaparte's return to France. 

BONAPARTE left Milan November 17, 1797, 
accompanied by Marmont, Duroc, Lavalette, as 
well as by Bourrienne, his secretary, and Yvan, his 
physician. He passed through Piedmont, but refused 
to stop at Turin and see the King of Sardinia ; but 
that monarch sent him his compliments and a number 
of presents, — two handsome horses with magnificent 
fittings, and two horse-pistols set with diamonds, 
which had belonged to the late King, Charles Em- 
manuel. Bonaparte crossed the Mount Cenis. When 
he reached Chambery, he was greeted most warmly. 
Thence he went to Geneva, where he stopped for a 
day. He refused to call on Necker, who was waiting 
for him at the roadside, near the castle of Coppet. 
He also, in spite of the jdesires of his aides-de-camp, 
refused to visit Ferney, having a grudge against the 
memory of Voltaire. His carriage broke down a 
league from Morat, and he went part of the way on 
foot. The roads were filled by a vast crowd, who spent 
the night standing in order to see the conqueror of 
Italy. He reached Morat November 23 ; it was a 

166 



BONAPARTE'S BETUEN TO FRANCE. 167 

market-day, and his arrival was most anxiously 
awaited: the chief magistrate prepared to receive 
him with all possible honors. Let us quote from a 
letter sent to Paris from Morat, and printed in the 
Moniteur : " I looked with keen interest and extreme 
admiration at this extraordinary man, who has done 
such great things, and seems to promise that his 
career is not yet concluded. I found him very like 
his portrait, — short, slight, pale, looking tired, but not 
ill, as I had heard. It seemed to me that he listened 
somewhat absent-mindedly and with no great interest, 
as if much more occupied'" with his own thoughts than 
with v/hat was said to him. His face is full of intel- 
ligence, and wears an expression of constant reflec- 
tion, revealing nothing of what is going on inside this 
thoughtful head, this sturdy nature, in which doubt- 
less were forming plans destined to have great influ- 
ence over the fate of Europe. A worthy citizen of 
Morat, about five feet seven or eight inches tall, was 
much struck by the general's appearance. ' That's a 
pretty small height for such a great man,' he ex- 
claimed, loud enough to be heard by an aide-de-camp. 
' It's exactly the height of Alexander,' I said, bring- 
ing a smile to the aide's face. He said, ' That is not 
the most striking point of resemblance.' Bonaparte 
stopped near the monument of bones at Morat and 
asked to be shown the place where the battle it com- 
memorated was fought. They pointed out a plain in 
front of a chapel. An oflicer who had served in 
France explained how the Swiss, descending from 



168 CITIZENESS BONAPARTE. 

the neighboring mountains, were able, aided by a 
dense wood, to outflank the Burgundian army and 
rout it. 'How large was this army?' asked Bona- 
parte. ' Sixty thousand men.' ' Sixty thousand men ! 
They must have covered the mountains.' Then Gen- 
eral Lannes said, ' Nowadays the French fight better 
than that.' ' At that time,' replied Bonaparte, ' the 
Burgundians were not Frenchmen.' " 

The journey was a series of ovations. Reaching 
Berne at night, Bonaparte passed through a double 
line of brilliantly lit carriages, filled with pretty 
women. His entrance into Basle was announced by 
cannon on the city ramparts. At once the fortress of 
Huningue replied to the salvo of artillery. At 
Offenburg were the headquarters of Augereau, at 
that time commander-in-chief of the Army of the 
Rhine. Augereau was anxious to treat him as an 
equal; he sent an aide with his compliments to 
Bonaparte, and an invitation to stay a while with 
him. Bonaparte sent word that he was too busy to 
stop, and pushed on without seeing his former subor- 
dinate. He entered Rastadt under the escort of a 
squadron of Austrian hussars, and found there the 
plenipotentiaries of the German powers ; but he did 
not care to tire himself in long and tedious negotia- 
tions, and was glad to be recalled by the Directory. 
He hastened to take post for Paris, and reached there 
December 5, at five o'clock in the afternoon. 

Bonaparte went to the little house in the rue de la 
Chantereine whence he had departed, almost obscure. 



BONAPARTE' S RETUBN TO FRANCE. 169 

twenty-one months before, and he returned famous. 
The ambitious men who leave Paris, and are as 
anxious about its judgment as was Alexander about 
that of Athens, can never return thither without 
anxiety. They wonder, and not without emotion, 
what their glory will amount to in that vast city, 
with its population so keenly susceptible, yet withal 
so fickle, and where everything is soon lost in the 
waves of that human ocean, the people. Great curi- 
osity was excited by the return of the young con- 
queror. How would the Directors greet this hero 
whose glory eclipsed their pallid renown? And what 
did he want? To be a Csesar? a Cromwell? a 
Monk? a Washington? Such were the questions 
that agitated the multitude ; but the prevailing im- 
pression was that Bonaparte was one of Plutarch's 
heroes, that his genius was only equalled by his self- 
denial. The Parisians, in their eagerness to create 
an idol, ascribed to their favorite every merit, every 
virtue. The infatuation was universal ; to see Bona- 
parte, to speak with him, became every one's ambi- 
tion. The newspapers showed unvarying zeal in 
printing the most trivial details about him. Every 
other subject seemed insipid. Talleja^and called on 
him the evening of his arrival. Bonaparte begged 
to be excused from receiving him, and the next day 
called at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, where he 
was received with marks of the warmest respect. 
His interview with the Directors was most cordial. 
Everywhere his affability and modesty were talked 



170 CITIZENESS BONAPARTE. 

about. Gratitude was felt for the visits he returned, 
not merely to the principal state functionaries, but 
also to humbler officials. In the Moniteur of Decem- 
ber 10 we read : " General Bonaparte is living in his 
wife's house, rue Chantereine, Chauss^e d'Antin. 
This house is simple, and with no pretence to luxury. 
It has been said that he will leave, on the 26th, for 
Rastadt. He goes out seldom, and unaccompanied, 
in a plain, two-horse carriage. He is often seen 
walking alone in his modest garden." 

This little house in the rue Chantereine, which he 
had left, two days after his wedding, to go to Italy, 
and which recalled so many happy memories, was for 
him once more, to use Marmont's expression, the 
temple of love. But it was no fault of his brothers 
if he did not suffer there the torments of a keen 
jealousy. 

We have said that he started from Milan Novem- 
ber 17, leaving Josephine there, who meant to pass a 
few days there with her son, Eugene de Beauharnais, 
who had come from Rome to see her before her 
return to France. Lavalette says in his Memoirs, 
'that Bonaparte's brothers, wishing to be the only 
ones who had any influence over him, tried to lessen 
that which Josephine possessed through her hus- 
band's love. "They tried," he goes on, "to arouse 
his jealousy ; and for this purpose made the most of 
her stay at Milan, — a stay which was au.thorized by 
Bonaparte. His regard for his wife, his journeyings, 
his incessant preparations for the expedition to Egypt, 



BONAPARTE'S BETUBN TO FRANCE. 171 

gave him no time to indulge in such suspicions. I 
shall speak later about the intrigues of Bonaparte's 
brothers, and their determination to undermine Jo- 
sephine in his heart. I was intimate with both, and 
thus fortunate enough to prevent, or much relieve, 
the mischief." 

Bonaparte had scarcely time enough for jealousy ; 
but, granting that he felt some pangs, the incessant 
gratification of his pride must have been an ample 
compensation. When he was at the theatre, no 
one listened to the actors; every glass was turned 
towards the box in which he half h°d himself to make 
curiosity the keener. As soon as he went to walk, 
a crowd gathered about him. Knowing the Parisian 
character, and that the attention of the great capital 
would not long linger on the same subject, he did 
not make himself common, and in his language, as 
well as in his dress and manners, he affected a sim- 
plicity in marked contrast to his glory, which could 
not fail of its effect on a Republican public. In 
spite of this assumed modesty, he was perpetually 
devising methods of giving France and the world 
new surprises. At this time, it was not love, but 
ambition, that ruled his soul. Nevertheless, he con- 
tinued to love Josephine ; and although his affection 
had no longer the fire and flame of the first days of 
his married life, he must have regretted her absence 
at the triumphal festival of December 10 at the 
Luxembourg. 



XVIII. 

THE FESTIVITY AT THE LUXEMBOURG. 

THE festivity of December 10 took place at the 
Luxembourg, where the Directors were to give 
a formal reception to the conqueror of Italy. The 
rooms of the palace were too small for the occasion, 
so the large courtyard was turned into a vast hall 
adorned with trophies and flags. At eleven in the 
morning the members of the Directory assembled at 
the palace, at the rooms of their colleague, La Re- 
veill^re-Lepeaux. The ministers, the members of 
the Diplomatic Body, the officers of the garrison of 
Paris, were announced in succession. At noon the 
artillery posted in the garden gave the signal for the 
beginning of the festival. A band, playing the favor- 
ite airs of the French Republicans, preceded the pro- 
cession, which passed through the galleries of the 
palace and went into the large courtyard. At the 
end, close to the main vestibule, rose the altar of the 
country, surmounted by statues of Liberty, Equal- 
ity, and Peace. Below the altar were five chairs for 
the Directors, who wore a Roman dress, and a plat- 
form for the members of the Diplomatic Body. On 

172 



THE FESTIVITY AT THE LUXEMBOUUG. 173 

each side rose a vast semicircular amphitheatre for 
the constituted authorities and the Conservatory of 
Music. To the right and left of this amphitheatre 
was a bundle of flags of the different armies of the 
Republic. The walls Avere adorned with tricolored 
hangings ; and over the altar and the amphitheatre 
was suspended a large awning. A vast multitude 
filled the courtyard and the windows of the rooms, 
which served as galleries. All the leaders of Pari- 
sian society were gathered at this entertainment, 
which had been much talked about. Every one 
looked eagerly forward to seeing and hearing the 
man whose name was on every one's lips. The 
women wore their handsomest dresses, anxious to 
see and to be seen ; they and the spectacle itself at- 
tracted equal attention. The men, proud of their 
uniforms, the fashionable beauties, proud of their 
splendor, were greeting one another; and the noisy 
crowd awaited with impatience its favorite's arrival. 
The President of the Directory gave orders to an 
usher to go and summon the Ministers of War and 
of Foreign Affairs, Generals Bonaparte and Joubert, 
and the Chief of Brigade, Andreossy, who were in 
the apartments of La R^veillere-Lepeaux. 

The Conservatory orchestra played a symphony, 
but suddenly the noise of the instruments was 
drowned by an outburst of cheers. Cries arose from 
every side, " Long live the Republic ! Long live 
Bonaparte I Long live the great nation ! " ^' There 
he is I " they shouted. " There he is, so young and so 



174 CITIZENESS BONAPABTE. 

famous ! There is the hero of Lodi, of Castiglione, 
of Arcole, the peacemaker of the continent, the rival 
of Alexander and Caesar ! there he is ! " His modest 
stature, his gauntness, his air of feebleness, made him 
no less majestic, for he wore the majesty of glory. 
No further attention was paid to the Directors or to 
the famous men who were there ; on him, and on 
him alone, every eye was fixed. He advanced calmly 
and modestly, accompanied by the Ministers of 
Foreign Affairs and of War, and followed by his 
aides. The chorus of the Conservatory sang the 
Hymn to Liberty ; the Moniteur tells us that " the 
assembly, in a transport of delight, repeated the 
chorus of the martial song. The invocation to Lib- 
erty and the sight of the liberator of Italy electri- 
fied every soul ; the Directory, the whole procession, 
all who were there, arose and stood bareheaded 
during this solemn performance. General Bonaparte 
then advanced to the foot of the altar of the country, 
and was presented to the Directory by Citizen Tal- 
leyrand, Minister of Foreign Relations, who spoke as 
follows : ' Citizen Directors, I have the honor of pre- 
senting to the Executive Directory Citizen Bona- 
parte, who brings the ratification of the treaty of 
peace concluded with the Emperor. While bringing 
us this certain pledge of peace, he recalls, in spite of 
himself, the numberless marvels that have brought 
about this great event ; but let him reassure himself, 
I will pass over in silence all that which will win the 
honor of history and the applause of posterity ; I will 



THE FESTIVITY AT THE LUXEMBOURG. 175 

say to-day that this glory, which casts so bright a 
glow on France, belongs to the Revolution. With- 
out that, indeed, the genius of the Conqueror of 
Italy would have languished in vulgar honors.' " 
Talleyrand took great pains to combine the Republic 
and the general in his eulogies. " All Frenchmen," 
he said, "have conquered in Bonaparte; his glory 
is the property of all ; there is no Republican who 
cannot claim his portion. . . . Personal greatness, 
so far from offending equality, is its proudest 
triumph, and on this very day French Republicans 
ought to feel themselves greater." 

Citizen Talleyrand, as the future Prince of Bene- 
vento was then called, used the language of the most 
accomplished courtiers. Beneath democratic formulas 
appeared the most refined and subtle tone of the old 
regime. The ministers of Louis XIV. were not more 
accomplished in the arts of flattery. Life is full of 
curious vicissitudes ! This Citizen Talleyrand, the 
Minister of Foreign Affairs under the Republic one 
and indivisible, was the former bishop who said mass 
in the presence of Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette 
on the altar of the Champ de Mars, at the festival of 
the Federation. This ardent Republican, the insti- 
gator of the 18th Fructidor, was to appear one day 
as the champion of legitimacy, and to forget that he 
had ever been a minister of the Republic and of the 
Empire. 

Yet Bonaparte was extremely pleased by Talley- 
rand's delicate flatteries. Having been so often ac- 



176 CITIZEN ESS BONAPABTE. 

cused by the emigres of being a mere Jacobin general, 
he was highly gratified to be praised by a great noble- 
man, by one of the most important persons of the 
former court. For his part, Talleyrand, who had a 
keen appreciation of honors and wealth, knew very 
well that this young man before whom he made obei- 
sance would soon be in a position to distribute them; 
hence the refinement in the flatteries which the for- 
mer bishop addressed to his hero. "And when I 
think," he said in closing, " of all that he has done 
to make us pardon this glory, of the antique love of 
simplicity that distinguishes him, of his love for the 
abstract sciences, of the sublime Ossian who appears 
to detach him from earth, when every one knows his 
disdain for show, luxury, and splendor, those petty 
ambitions of ordinary minds, then, far from dreading 
his ambition, I feel that some day perhaps we may be 
compelled to summon him from the calm joys of his 
peaceful retreat. All France will be free, but he, 
perhaps, never: such is his destiny. At this very 
moment a- new enemy calls him, renowned for its 
hatred of the French and its insolent tyranny towards 
all the nations of the earth. May it, through Bona- 
parte's genius, promptly expiate both, and may a 
peace worthy of all the glory of the Republic be 
imposed upon the tyrants of the sea ; may it avenge 
France and reassure the world ! " 

They scarcely listened to Talleyrand, and found 
him long-winded; for they were impatient to hear 
Bonaparte, the hero of the day. Every instant which 



THE FESTIVITY AT THE LUXEMBOUBG. 177 

postponed the moment when the hero of Arcole was 
to speak seemed to them like time lost, and only the 
extravagant praise which he heaped upon the hero 
of the day excused the length of the Minister's 
speech. Citizen Talleyrand finished his peroration 
with these words : " Carried away by the pleasure 
of speaking about you, General, I perceive too late 
that the vast throng which surrounds you is impatient 
to hear you, and you, too, must blame me for delaying 
the pleasure you will have in listening to one who 
has the right of addressing you in the name of all 
France and of addressing you in the name of an old 
friendship." 

At last Bonaparte was about to speak. His simple 
and modest countenance, said the Moniteur, con- 
trasted with his great reputation. Every one imagined 
him commanding at the bridge of Lodi, at Arcole, at 
the crossing of the Tagliamento, or dictating peace 
at Campo Formio. There was a deep silence. Bona- 
parte handed to the President of the Directory the 
Emperor's ratification of the treaty of Campo For- 
mio, and spoke as follows : " Citizens, the French peo- 
ple, in order to be free, had to fight with its kings. 
In order to attain a constitution founded on reason, 
it had to contend with eighteen centuries of preju- 
dice. The Constitution of the Year III. was made, 
and you triumphed over every obstacle. Religion, 
feudality, royalty, have successively governed Europe 
for twenty centuries, but the peace you have just 
concluded dates the era of representative govern- 



178 CITIZEN ESS BONAPARTE. 

ments. You have succeeded in organizing the great 
nation whose vast territory is limited because nature 
itself has drawn its boundaries. You have done 
more. The two fairest parts of Europe, long since 
so famous for the arts and sciences, and for the great 
men whose birthplace it was, see with the greatest 
hopes the genius of liberty rising from the tomb of 
their ancestors. They are the two pedestals on which 
destiny is to erect two powerful nations. I have the 
honor to hand to you the treaty signed at Campo 
Formio and ratified by His Majesty the Emperor. 
This peace assures the liberty, the prosperity, and the 
glory of the Republic. When the happiness of the 
French people shall be established on better organic 
laws, all Europe will become free." 

This short speech, delivered in a jerky voice, in a 
tone of command, produced a deeper impression than 
would have done the voice of the most famous orators 
of the century. When Bonaparte had finished, rap- 
turous applause broke forth on every side, and spread- 
ing from the rooms, it continued all about in the 
neighboring streets, which were filled by a dense 
crowd. 

Then Citizen Barras began to speak as President 
of the Directory, and it must be said that if, as gen- 
erally asserted, he nourished a secret jealousy of 
Bonaparte, he Avas able to conceal it ; for his speech 
was even more enthusiastic than Talleyrand's, as may 
be inferred from the opening words : " Citizen Gen- 
eral, Nature, chary of prodigies, bestows seldom great 



THE FESTIVITY AT THE LUXEMBOURG. 179 

men upon the world, but it must be desirous to mark 
the dawn of liberty by one of these phenomena, and 
the sublime Revolution of the French people, without 
precedent in the history of nations, has been permitted 
to add a new genius to the list of great men. You, 
first of all, Citizen General, have known no equal, 
and by the same force with which you have shattered 
the enemies of the Republic, you have surpassed all 
the rivals that antiquity held up before you. . . . 
After eighteen centuries, 3^ou have avenged France 
for the fortune of Csesar. He brought into our coun- 
try subjection and destruction ; you have carried into 
his ancient land liberty and life. Thus is paid the 
huge debt which the Gauls had contracted to haughty 
Rome." Bonaparte avenging Csesar's good fortune 
is, to say the least, a singular notion. Then Barras, 
adopting a less austere tone, denounced "that herd 
of intriguing, ambitious, ignorant, destructive men, 
whose plans are destroyed, whose powerlessness is 
unveiled, whose ill-gotten wealth is unmasked by 
peace." Then he broke out against the cabinet of 
London, "which, ignorant of the art of war, under- 
stands only how to mix poisons and to sharpen assas- 
sins' daggers." After a long eulogy of the "immortal 
18th Fructidor," Barras ended by inviting Bonaparte 
to punish the British government. " Your heart," he 
said, " is the Republican temple of honor ; it is to the 
mighty genius which fills you that the Directory en- 
trusts this grand enterprise. Let the conquerors of 
the Po, the Rhine, and the Tiber follow in your foot- 



180 CITIZENESS BONAPARTEr 

steps ; the ocean will be proud to cany them, for it 
is an nnconquered slave who blushes at his chains ; 
as it roars, it invokes the earth's wrath against the 
tyrant who burdens it with his fleets. It will fight 
for you ; the elements second a free man. . . . You 
are the liberator whom outraged humanity summons 
with plaintive cries. ... Of the enemy you will find 
only his crime. Crime alone sustains this perfidious 
government ; crush it, and its fall will speedily teach 
the world that if the French people is the benefactor 
of Europe, it is also the avenger of the rights of 
nations." 

After his long and pompous harangue, Barras held 
out his arms to Bonaparte and gave him a fraternal 
embrace. " All the spectators were moved," says the 
Moniteur ; "all regretted that they, too, could not 
embrace the General who has deserved so well of his 
country, and offer him their share of the national 
gratitude." 

Bonaparte then descended the steps of the altar, 
and the Minister of Foreign Relations led him to a 
chair set in front of the Diplomatic Body. Then 
the choruses and the orchestra of the Conservatory 
performed the Song of the Return^ the words by Citi- 
zen Chenier, the music by Citizen Mehul. There 
was a couplet for warriors, one for old men, one for 
the bards, one for young girls. The song ended 
thus : — 

" The Warriors. 
Let us unite in bonds of Hymen our hands and our hearts. 



THE FESTIVITY AT THE LUXEMBOURG. 181 

The Young Girls. 
Hymen and love are the Conqueror's reward. 

The Warriors. 

Let us create other warriors, and bequeath to them victory. 

The Warriors and the Young Girls. 

That some day, at their words, their bright eyes, 
One will say : They are the children of the brave ! 
That, deaf to tyrants, to slaves, 

They always hearken to the voice of the oppressed." 

The Minister of War then presented to the Direc- 
tory General Joubert and Chief of Brigade Andre- 
ossy, whom Bonaparte had commissioned to take to 
the Directory the flag presented to this brave army, 
in token of the national gratitude, by the Legislative 
Body : it bore inscriptions in gold letters recounting 
the principal exploits of the conquerors of Italy. 
They formed most glorious record; that they had 
taken one hundred and fifty thousand prisoners, five 
hundred and fifty pieces of siege artillery, and six 
hundred field-pieces ; that they had Avon eighteen 
pitched battles ; that they had sent to Paris the mas- 
terpieces of Michael Angelo, Guercino, Titian, Paul 
Veronese, Correggio, Albano, the Carracci, Raphael, 
and Leonardo da Vinci ! There was the famous 
standard, the orifiamme of the Republic ! " What 
Frenchman," exclaimed the Minister of War, " what 
Frenchman worthy of the name will not feel his heart 
beat at the sight of this banner? Eternal monument of 
the triumph of our arms, be forever consecrated in the 
French capitol, amid the trophies won from conquered 



182 CITIZENESS BONAPABTE. 

nations ! Gloiy to you, valiant defenders of our coun- 
try, generals and soldiers, who have covered with such 
glory the cradle of the Republic ! " 

After a speech from General Joubert and another 
from Andre ossy, the artillery saluted the banner with 
a general salute. The President of the Directory 
received it from the hands of the two warriors. " In 
the name of the French Republic," he exclaimed, " I 
salute you, the flag recalling such mighty feats ! . . . 
Brave soldiers, proceed to the banks of the Thames 
to rid the universe of the monsters who oppress and 
dishonor it. . . . Let Saint James's Palace be over- 
thrown ! The country wishes it ; humanity requires 
it; your vengeance commands it. . . . Citizen Gen- 
eral, you appear surrounded with the halo of your 
glory within the walls where, a few months ago, rav- 
ing conspirators madly shouted, ' And this man still 
lives ! ' Yes, he lives for the glory of the nation and 
the defence of the country." The Conservatory cho- 
ruses chanted the Song of Return^ the public joining 
in, as a superior officer carried away reverentially the 
banner of the Army of Italy, to hang it aloft in the 
Council Room of the Directory. 

It was a grand festivity ; the transports of enthusiasm 
were sincere and generous. The government that pre- 
sided over these solemn rites has been too often the 
subject of derision. Did it not possess one talisman 
to console every misfortune, — victory ? Could it, in 
sight of the amazed and fascinated Diplomatic Body, 
give to France that fine, glorious name, of which the 



THE FESTIVITY AT THE LUXEMBOURG. 183 

whole world judged it worthy, that of the great 
nation ? Yes ; it was with a sort of religious awe that 
this joyous multitude pronounced the word, liberty. 
Yes ; on that day the Revolution appeared under an 
immortal aspect. Yes; the valiant soldiers who had 
wrought such miracles of heroism felt that at last 
they were amply rewarded for their fatigues, their 
sufferings, their triumphs. Doubtless it is easier to 
criticise than to imitate the Directory. A govern- 
ment which could use such haughty language in the 
face of Europe has claims, in spite of its faults and 
weaknesses, upon the indulgence of posterity. A 
government that gave to France its natural bounda- 
ries, and which could win not merely the territory, 
but also the hearts of the people it annexed, rested on 
principles and ideas of a grandeur that cannot fail to 
be recognized. 



XIX, 

AN ENTERTAINMENT AT THE MINISTRY OF FOREIGN 

RELATIONS. 

IN his Souvenirs of a Sexagenarian^ the poet Ar- 
nault narrates that in June, 1789, while walking 
near the Swiss lake, at Versailles, he noticed a man 
lying down under a tree, apparently plunged in 
solitary and philosophic thought. " His face, which 
was not devoid of charm," he goes on, "struck me 
less by its beauty than by its expression, by a certain 
combination of indifference and malignity, which 
gave it a very singular air, as if it were the head of 
an angel animated by the mind of a devil. It was 
evidently of a fashionable man, who was accustomed 
to arouse more interest in others than he felt for 
them ; of a man who, though young, was already sated 
with worldl}^ pleasures. I should have inclined to 
suppose it was the face of some favdrite colonel, had 
not the cut of the hair and the bands told me that it 
belonged to an ecclesiastic, and the pastoral cross 
assured me that this ecclesiastic was a bishop." 

A year later, July 14, 1790, among the half-million 
spectators who covered the slope of the Champ de 

184 



AN ENTERTAINMENT. 185 



Mars was Arnault, Avatcliing the Festival of the Fed- 
eration, Avhen he saw on a hillock where mass was to 
be celebrated in the open air, a bishop advancing, a 
cope on his back, a mitre on his head, cross in hand, 
distributing floods of holy Avater with patriotic prodi- 
gality on the royal family, the court, the army, and 
the populace. " What was my surprise," he goes on, 
" to recognize in him the prelate of Versailles ! For 
a year I had heard the Bishop of Autun much talked 
about. His face explained to me his conduct ; and 
his conduct his face." 

Arnault must have been still more surprised to 
find, in 1797, Monseigneur the Bishop of Autun 
transformed into Citizen Talleyrand, the Minister 
of Foreign Relations of the 'French Republic. Such 
a metamorphosis was without parallel; it was an 
avatar. 

How many things had happened since the Festival 
of the Federation ! On the day after the September 
massacres Talleyrand had obtained a passport for 
England, signed by all the ministers, on Danton's 
motion. From London he continued, it was said, to 
maintain relations with this terrible leader, which, 
hoAvever, did not prevent his being accused and in- 
scribed on the list of emigres at the end of 1792, on 
account of the discovery, in the celebrated iron Avard- 
robe, of a letter in Avhich he secretly offered his ser- 
vices to Louis XVI. In London he AA^as generally 
regarded as a dangerous person; and early in 1794 
the Alien Bill Avas applied to him. He set sail on a 



186 CITIZENESS BONAPARTE. 

Danish sliip for the United States, and there awaited, 
events. 

After Robespierre's death he tried hard to get 
leave to return to France. His former vicar-general 
and, acolyte at the mass of the Federation, Desre- 
naudes, solicited the favor of persons of influence. 
As M. Frederic Masson has said in his remarkable 
book. The Bepm^tment of Foreign Affairs during the 
Revolution^ the exile reminded his former mistresses 
of his good fortunes ; Danton's friends, of his relations 
with their chief; the stock-jobbers of old times, of 
the speculations which had made him their master. 
Legendre was for him, and Madame de Stael, and 
Boissy d'Anglas. Madame de la Bouchardie sang to 
Chenier the Exile's Romanza^ and Ch^nier decided 
to support, before the Convention in the meeting of 
September 4, 1795, the petition which Talleyrand 
had sent from Philadelphia, soliciting permission to 
return to France. The Convention granted his re- 
quest. He received a warm welcome in Paris on his 
return. Ladies who had formerly been leaders of 
fashion remembered his wit and his fine manners ; 
their successors took him up out of curiosity. He- 
became acquainted with one of the influential people 
of the day, Madame de Stael, who wanted him to be 
made a minister; but this, Carnot flatly opposed. 
"Don't let me hear a word about him," said the 
former member of the Committee of Public Safety. 
"He has sold his order, his king, his God. This 
Catelan of a priest will sell the whole Directory." 



AN ENTERTAINMENT. 187 

But Madame de Stael had more inflnence than Car- 
not : and the ex-Bishop of Aiitnn was appointed 
Minister of Foreign Relations in July, 1797. His first 
thought, — for he had the gift of foresight, — was to 
secure the good graces of the man of the future, of 
the commander-in-chief of the Army of Italy. He 
wrote to him : " I have the honor of informing you. 
General, that the Executive Directory has just ap- 
pointed me Minister of Foreign Relations. Naturally 
awed by the functions of which I feel the perilous 
importance, I need to reassure myself by reflect- 
ing what means and aids your glory brings to our 
negotiations. The mere name of Bonaparte is an 
ally able to remove every diflicult}^ I shall hasten 
to send to you all the views which the Directory 
shall charge me to transmit to you ; and Fame, your 
ordinary means of communication, will often deprive 
me of the happiness of informing it of the manner in 
which you shall have carried them out." 

When Bonaparte returned to Paris, Talleyrand was 
anxious to overreach him, to get possession of him, 
and determined to give a great entertainment in his 
honor, but he waited until Josephine should come\ 
The former Viscountess of Beauharnais would well 
suit a place where met those of the old nobility who 
had come over more or less to the Revolution. Ma- 
dame Bonaparte had a weakness for luxury, dress, 
and pleasure ; in the drawing-room of the Minister 
of Foreign Relations she would feel herself in her 
element. Her grace and amiability would work 



188 CITIZENESS BONAPARTE. 



wonders ; she would modify the effect of her hus- 
band's rough, violent manners. She would recognize 
with emotion old friends who would hope to obtain 
honors and money through her influence. How^ de- 
lighted she would be to see arising again what she 
had thought forever lost, — the elegance, urbanity, tlie 
life of the drawing-room ! Josephine reached Paris' 
from Italy January 2, 1798. The ball of the Min- 
ister of Foreign Relations was set for the day fol- 
lowing. 

First a word about the ball-room. The ministry 
was a mansion of the Faubourg Saint Germain, the 
H6tel Gallifet, a rich and costly dwelling, still un- 
finished in 1786, so that its former owners had had 
scarcely time to get settled in it. It was in the rue 
du Bac, at the corner of the rue de Grenelle, between 
a courtyard and a garden ; the mansion on the side 
of the court being adorned by a great open peristyle, 
consisting of Ionic columns thirty feet high. To 
the left another peristyle with Doric columns forms 
a covered passage leading to the grand staircase. 
The facade towards the garden is adorned with Ionic 
columns ; to the left is a gallery ninety feet long. 
Talleyrand prepared everything with a lavish hand. 
It was a magnificent ball : the grand staircase was 
covered with sweet-smelling plants, the musicians 
were placed in the cupola, decorated with arabesques, 
at the top of the staircase. All the walls of the 
drawing-rooms were painted over anew. A little 
Etruscan temple was built, in which was set the bust 



AN ENTERTAINMENT. 189 

of Brutus, — a present from General Bonaparte, In 
the garden, which was illuminated by Bengal lights, 
were tents in which were soldiers from all the differ- 
ent corps of the Paris garrison. At length the ball 
began. The Minister djd the honors with perfect 
grace : he had altered his political opinions, but not 
his manners. He was a Republican whose ways con- 
tinued those of the Monarchy. He loved show and 
splendor, and had the cold politeness, the repose of 
good society, the indifference tinctured with malice, 
the exquisite tact, the delicate perceptions, which 
marked the men of the old regime. He brought into 
a new world the manners of the Q^il de BcBuf and 
of the court of Versailles. This entertainment given 
by a former bishop, in an aristocratic dwelling, which 
had been made national property and turned into a 
ministry, was a sign of the times. For many years 
no show, pomp, and splendor had been seen. No one 
would imagine himself in the city of revolutionary 
dances, of red caps, of the scaffold. Perfumes took 
the place of the smell of blood, and the sufferings and 
perils of the past seemed but a bad dream. The 
pretty women, the flowers,' the lights, — one would 
have thought the happy days of Marie Antoinette 
had returned. 

v_ Madame Bonaparte was much impressed. She was 
looked at a great deal, but her husband produced 
infinitely more effect. The presence of the hero of 
Arcole, the signer of the peace of Campo Formio, 
was the great attraction of the evening. His uii 



190 CITIZENESS BONAPARTE. 

usual, strongly marked face, his Roman profile, his 
eagle eye, aroused much more admiration than did 
any of the fashionable beauties. A glance, a word, 
the slightest token of attention on his part, was 
regarded as a great favor. 

As he entered the ball-room he said to the poet 
Arnault : " Give me your arm ; I see a great many 
who are ready to charge on me ; so long as we are 
together, they won't dare to break in on our talk. Let 
us walk about the hall ; you will tell me who all the 
masks are, for you know everybody." There was a 
young girl approaching with her mother, matre pul- 
clira^ filia pulchrior, both dressed alike, in a dress of 
white crape, trimmed with two broad satin ribbons, 
and the edge bordered with a puff of the size of a 
thumb, in pink gauze worked with silver. Each wore 
a wreath of oak-leaves. The mother wore diamonds ; 
the daughter, pearls : that was the only difference in 
their attire. The mother was Madame de Permont ; 
the daughter, the future Duchess of Abrantes. The 
Turkish Ambassador, a favorite with all the ladies, 
to whom all the theatre proprietors had given nu- 
merous entertainments to make money and escape 
failure, the Turk whose popularity had waned before 
that of the conqueror of Italy, was most enthusiastic 
over the beauty of Madame de Permont, who was 
a Comnena. "I told him," murmured Bonaparte, 
" that you were a Greek." 

Arnault, when the general had left his arm, sat 
down on a bench between two windows. Scarcely 



AN ENTERTAINMENT. 191 



had he taken his place when Madame de Stael sat 
down beside him. " It's impossible to approach 3^ our 
General," she said ; " you must present me to him." 
She grasped the poet and led him straight to Bona- 
parte through the crowd that drew back, or rather, 
that she pushed back. "Madame de Stael," said 
Arnault to the general, " declares that she needs 
some other introduction to you than her name, and 
asks me to present her to you. Allow me, General, 
to obey her." The crowd gathered about and 
listened with great attention. Madame de Stael first 
overwhelmed the hero with compliments, and after 
giving him clearly to understand that he was in her 
eyes the first of men, she asked him, " General, what 
woman do you love best?" "My wife," he answered. 
" That is very natural ; but whom do you esteem the 
most?" "The one who is the best housekeeper." 
"I can understand that. But who do you think is 
the first of women ? " " The one who has most chil- . 
dren, Madame." The company burst out laughing ; 
and Madame de Stael, much discomfited, said very 
low to Arnault, "Your great man is a very odd man." 
At midnight the orchestra played the Parting 
Song^ and all the women made their way to the 
gallery and sat clown at a table with three hun- 
dred places. Talleyrand proposed toasts, each one 
being followed by couplets composed by Despres and 
Despreaux, sung by Lays, Chenard, and Cheron. 
Between the songs, Dugazon told a comic story about 
a German baron, — a sort of entertainment much ad- 
mired at that time. 



192 CITIZENESS BONAPARTE. 



After the supper the ball went on again. Bona- 
parte took leave at one in the morning. Throughout 
the supper he kept close to his wife, paying atten- 
tion to her alone. According to Girardin he was not 
sorry to have it said that he was much in love with 
her and excessively jealous. 

The ball cost 12,730 francs, without counting the 
singers, the supper, and the police. It was a large 
sum for a ball, but it was money well spent. From 
this investment the ex-Bishop of Autun was to draw 
large profits. The entertainment of the Minister of 
Foreign Relations had been a union of the old and 
new society, a gracious and brilliant symbol of con- 
ciliation and fusion. Members of the Convention, 
regicides, Jacobins, had appeared there side by side 
with the great lords and ladies of other days. That 
is why it so pleased Bonaparte, who recalled it at 
Saint Helena, and said, "Minister Talleyrand's ball 
bore the stamp of good taste." It was indeed a 
political and social event, a real restoration ; a resto- 
ration of the manners and elegance of the old re- 
gime ; the beginning of a new court. From beneath 
the democratic mask of Citizen Talleyrand was al- 
ready peering the face of the Lord High Chamber- 
lam; and Bonaparte, knowing that under every form 
of government the French would love luxury and 
show, festivities and pleasure, honors and decorations, 
was doubtless already dreaming of the future splen- 
dors of the Tuileries. 



XX. 

BONAPARTE AND JOSEPHINE BEFORE THE EXPE- 
DITION TO EGYPT. 

BONAPARTE appeared at the lieight of gloiy, 
and yet he was not contented. In vain the 
multitude worshipped him with something like idol- 
atry : nothing could satiate his ambition. The Moyii- 
teur was filled with praise of him in prose and verse. 
There was this distich by Lebrun, surname d the 
French Pindar : — 

" Hero, dear to Peace, the Arts, and. Victory, — 
In two years he wins a thousand centuries of glory ! " 

and this impromptu of an old man, Citizen Palissot, 
who in his own fashion thus reproduced the denun- 
ciation of Simeon : — 

" Over tyrants armed against us 
I have seen my counti-y triumph. 
I have seen the hero of Italy — 
He chained to his knees 
With a triple knot of brass Discord and Envy. 

" Fate, I scorn thy shears ; 
After so glorious a sight 
AVhat does life still offer me ? " 

193 



194 CITIZENESS BONAPARTE. 

■ No sovereign in his own capital has ever produced 
a greater impression than the hero of Arcole. His 
modest dwelling in the rue Chantereine was more 
famous than mighty palaces. One evening when he 
was going home he was surprised by finding work- 
men changing the sign bearing the name of the 
street, which henceforth was called rue de la Vic- 
toire. At the theatre it was in vain that he hid 
himself at the back of the box; he was, in spite of 
himself, the object of enthusiastic demonstrations. 
One morning he sent his secretary, Bourrienne, to a 
theatre manager to ask him to give that evening two 
very popular pieces, if such a thing were possible. 
The manager replied, " Nothing is impossible for 
General Bonaparte ; he has struck that word out of 
the dictionary." 

When he was elected a member of the Institute, 
December 26, 1797, he produced perhaps a greater 
effect in his coat embroidered with green palm-leaves 
than in his general's uniform. The day of his 
reception at the palace of the Louvre, where the 
meetings of the Institute were held at that time, the 
public had eyes only for this wonderful young man. 
Chenier happened to read that day a poem in com- 
memoration of Hoche ; but the hero of the occasion 
was not Hoche, but Bonaparte, and the passage 
which provoked the heartiest applause was one in 
which the poet spoke of a projected invasion of 
England. The whole company burst into cheers, 
and that evening Bonaparte received, among other 



BEFORE THE EXPEDITION TO EGYPT. 195 

visits, that of Madame Tallien, who came to congrat- 
ulate him on his new triumph. Josephine greatly 
enjoyed her husband's glory, and nothing troubled 
her happiness. Her son Eugene had returned from 
Italy; her daughter Hortense, who was a pupil in 
Madame Campan's boarding-school at Saint Germain, 
seemed to share her brother's amiable and brilliant v 
qualities. In the month of March, 1798, this charm- 
ing girl, whom Bonaparte loved as his own child, 
acted before him, at her school, in Esthe}\ recalling 
thus the performances at Saint Cyr under Louis 
XIV. 

Josephine had never been happier ; her brothers-in- 
law, in spite of their dislike of her, had not been able 
to make any trouble between her and her husband, 
who then had neither time nor cause for jealousy. 
She was very fond of society, and liked to see her 
little house in the rue de la Victoire crowded with 
all the principal people of Paris. She used to give 
literary dinners there, when her husband's sparkling, 
profound, and original conversation amazed such 
students as Monge, Berthollet, Laplace ; such writers 
as Ducis, Legouve, Lemercier, Bernardin de Saint- 
Pierre ; such artists as David and Mehul. ' 

The Moniteur was untiring in its praise of the 
universal genius of this young general, who called 
forth the admiration of his colleagues of the Insti- 
tute, who tp.lked of mathematics with Lagrange ; of 
poetry, with Chenier; of law, with Daunou; and of 
all, well. But Josephine's love, the circle of cour- 



196 CITIZENESS BONAPARTE. 

tiers who surrounded him, his universal success, the 
perpetual gratifications of his pride which fortune 
showered upon him, were all incapable of satisfying 
his ardent, restless spirit, which imperatively de- 
manded great emotions, great risks, great dangers. 
Restless, and yearning for action, he uneasily waited 
for the moment to come when the public should 
grow tired of his glory as of everything else. " No 
one remembers anything at Paris," he said to Bour- 
rienne. " If I stay long without doing anything, I 
am lost. One fame succeeds another in this great 
Babylon ; no one will look at me if I go three times 
to the theatre, so I go very seldom." The adminis- 
tration of the Opera offered him a special perform- 
ance, but he declined it. When Bourrienne sug- 
gested that it would be a pleasant thing for him to 
receive the applause of his fellow-citizens, " Bah ! " 
he replied, " the people would crowd about me just 
as eagerly if I were going to the scaffold." " This 
Paris weighs on me," he said on another occasion, 
'' like a coat of lead." In this city which swallows 
so many reputations, and where everything so soon 
grows old, he remembered Csesar, who would have 
preferred being first in a village to being second in 
Rome. Doubtless there was in all France no name 
so famous as his, but officially, the Directors were 
above him ; they were, in fact, the heads of the gov- 
ernment of which he was but a subordinate. By a 
simple official communication they could have de- 
prived him of his command. The Duke of Ragusa 



BEFORE THE EXPEDITION TO EGYPT. 197 

has justly remarked : " If Bonaparte, who was des- 
tined to have an easy success the 18th Brnman^e, 
had, early in 1798, made the slightest attempt against 
the Directory, nine-tenths of the citizens would have 
turned their back upon him." Madame de Stael tells 
the story that one evening he was talking to B arras 
of his ascendancy over the Italians, who wanted to 
make him Duke of Milan and King of Italy. " But," 
he added, " I contemplate nothing of the sort in any 
country." " You do well not to think of such a 
thing in France," replied Barras ; " for if the Direc- 
tory were to send you to the Temple to-morrow, there 
would not be four persons to object to it." 

Bonaparte felt in his heart that Barras spoke the 
truth. A capital like Paris seemed to him odious 
unless he were its master. To have to depend on the 
Directors, the Councils, the ministers, the newspapers, 
was an intolerable weariness. For two years he had 
been without superior control ; he had acted like an 
absolute monarch, and he felt out of his element in a 
city where the reins of government were not in his 
hands. At the end of January, 1798, he said: " Bour- 
rienne, I don't want to stay here ; there is nothing to 
do. They won't listen to anything. I see very well 
that if I stay, it will be all up with me very soon. 
Everything wears out here ; my glory is all gone ; 
this little Europe can't supply any. I must go to the 
East ; that's where all great reputations are made. 
But first I want to visit the ports, to see for myself 
what can be undertaken. I will take you, and 



198 CITIZENESS BONAPAUTE. 

Lannes, and Sulkowski. If, as I fear, an invasion 
of England seems doubtful, the Army of England 
will become the Army of the East, and I shall go 
to Egypt." 

Bonaparte's visit to the northern ports, which he 
began February 10, 1798, was of only a week's dura- 
tion. He returned to Paris through Antwerp, Brus- 
sels, Lille, and Saint Quentin. '' Well, General," 
asked Bourrienne, " what's the result of your trip ? 
Are you satisfied ? For my part, I must confess that 
I didn't find any great resources or grand hopes in 
what I saw and heard." Bonaparte replied : " The 
risk is too great ; I sha'n't venture it. I don't want 
to trifle with the fate of France." 

From that moment the expedition to Egypt was 
determined. The year before, at Passeriano, Bona- 
parte had said: "Europe is a mole-hill; you find 
great empires and great revolutions only in the East, 
where there are six hundred millions of men." To 
grow greater by remoteness ; to win triumphs in the 
land of light, of the country of the founders of relig- 
ions and of empires; to use the Pyramids as the pedes- 
tals of his glory ; to attain strange, colossal, fabulous 
results ; to make the Mediterranean a French lake ; 
to traverse Africa and Asia ; to wrest East India from 
England, — such were the vast dreams of this man 
Avho, with more reason than Fouquet, — for Fouquet 
had only money, and he had glory, — was tempted to 
exclaim, in a moment of rapture : " Quo non ascen- 
dam f " " Whither shall I not rise ? " 



BEFORE THE EXPEDITION TO EGYPT. 199 

The aim of the expedition he proposed to under- 
take was unknown, yet every one wanted to accom- 
pany him. No one knew where he was going, but he 
was followed blindly, for faith was felt in his star. 
Strangely enough, Bonaparte did not give any indica- 
tions, even to his principal generals, of the point of 
destination. The Moniteur^ in its issue of March 31, 
having had the imprudence to mention Egypt, the 
Directory nullified the effect of the blunder by pub- 
lishing an order commanding General Bonaparte to 
go to Brest to take command of the Army of Eng- 
land. 

Military men were not alone in asking to take part 
in this expedition : civilians, scholars, engineers, art- 
ists, also wished to go along. Bonaparte always re- 
gretted that he had not been able to take with, him 
Ducis, the poet, Mehul, the composer, and Lays, the 
singer. But Ducis was too old to endure the hard- 
ships of a campaign, Mehul was bound to the Con- 
servatory, and Lays to tlie Opera. " I am sorry that 
he won't go with us," said the general to Arnault, 
speaking of this singer; "he would have been our 
Ossian. We need one ; we need a bard, who might, 
when tlie occasion arose, sing at the bead of our col- 
umns. His voice would have had suck a good effect 
on the soldiers. No one would suit me better than 
he." Bonaparte wished to transfer the civilization of 
Paris to the shores of the Nile. From the savants he 
chose Monge, Berthollet, Denon, Dolomieu; from the 
authors, Arnault and Parceval ; from the artists, Rigel, 



200 CITIZENESS BONAPARTE. 

the pianist, and Yilleteau, the singer, who took Lays's 
parts at the Opera. 

Bourrienne, who was in the secret of the expedi- 
tion, asked the general how long he meant to stay in 
Egypt. " A little while, or six years," answered 
Bonaparte; "everything depends on circumstances. 
I shall colonize the country; bring over artists, all 
sorts of workmen, women, and actors. We are only 
tAventy-nine ; we shall be thirty-five : that's not old ; 
these six years will see me, if all goes well, in India. 
Tell every one who speaks of our departure, that you 
are going to Brest. Say the same thing to your 
family." 

Bonaparte was eager for action. He missed the 
smell of powder. All the time he was in Paris, 
between the Italian campaign and the Egyptian ex- 
pedition, he continually wore his spurs, although he 
did not wear his uniform. Night and day, he kept 
a horse in his stable, saddled and bridled. 

One moment, the Egyptian plan was nearly aban- 
doned, because war with Austria seemed imminent ; 
but the complications soon vanished, and the prepara- 
tions were resumed with vigor. There were many 
who regretted Bonaparte's departure, and said that 
his real place was in France. " The Directory wishes 
to get you away," the poet Arnault told him ; " France 
wishes to keep you. The Parisians blame your 
resignation ; they are crying out more bitterly than 
ever against the government. Aren't you afraid 
they will at last cry out after you ? " " The Parisians 



BEFOBE THE EXPEDITION TO EGYPT. 201 

cry, but they will never do anything ; they are dis- 
contented, but they are not unhappy. If I got on 
horseback, no one Avould follow me ; the time hasn't 
come. We shall leave to-morrow." 



XXI. 

• THE FAREWELL AT TOULON. 

MAY 3, 1798, Bonaparte and Josephine, after 
dining quietly with B arras at the Luxem- 
bourg, went to the Theatre FrauQais, where Talma 
was acting in the Machetli o'f Ducis. He was received 
as warmly as on the first days of his return. When 
the play was over, he went home, and started at 
midnight, taking with him, in his carriage, Eugene, 
Bourrienne, Duroc, and Lavalette. Paris knew noth- 
ing of his departure ; and the next morning, when 
every one thought that he was in the rue de la 
Victoire, he was already Avell on his way to the 
South. With the desire of outwitting the English 
spies, who were still in ignorance of the destination 
of the expedition, he had made all his preparations 
quietly, and had not even let Josephine go to Saint 
Germain to bid farewell to her daughter, before 
leaving. Yet Josephine still did not know how long 
she would be awa}^, and Bonaparte had not told her 
whether he should allow her to accompany him on 
this mysterious expedition on which he was about to 
start. 

202 



THE FAREWELL AT TOULON. 203 

In his Memoirs, Marmont records an incident that 
came near having serious results for the party. At 
nightfall they had reached Aix-en-Provence, on their 
hurried journey to Toulon. Being eager to push on, 
without stopping at Marseilles, where they would 
in all probability have been delayed, they took a 
more direct road, through Roquevaire, a highway, 
but one less frequently taken than the other: for 
some days the postillions had not been that wa}^ 
Suddenly, as they were rapidly going down the slope 
of a hill, the carriage was stopped by a violent shock. 
Every one sprang up, and got out of the carriage to 
see what was the matter. They found that a large 
branch of a tree stretching across the road had 
stopped the carriage. Ten steps further, at the foot 
of the descent, a bridge crossing a torrent over which 
they had to go had fallen down the previous evening. 
No one knew anything about it ; and the carriage 
would have gone over the precipice, had not this 
branch stopped them at the edge. " Does not this 
seem like the hand of Providence ? " asks Marmont. 
" Is not Bonaparte justified in thinking that it 
watclies over him ? Had it not been for this branch, 
so strangely placed, and strong enough to hold, what 
would have become of the conqueror of Egypt, the 
conqueror of Europe, whose power for fifteen years 
prevailed over the surface of the earth?" 

On what trifles human destinies depend ! In the 
eyes of Providence, men are but pygmies. If that 
branch had been a trifle thinner, it would have been 



204 CITIZEN ESS BONAPARTE. 

all over with Napoleon : no battle of the Pyramids, 
no 18th Brumaire, no Consulate, no Empire, no cor- 
onation, no Austerlitz, no Waterloo ! Were the 
ancients right when they said that those whom the 
gods love die young ? And would it have been well 
for Napoleon to die at twenty-nine, before his great- 
est glories, but also before his misfortunes ? Do not 
the men who are called indispensable live too long 
for themselves and for their country? Short as is 
human life, it is too long for them. 

But in 1798 Bonaparte was far from making such 
reflections. When he reached Toulon, May 9, he 
was all pride, enthusiasm, hope. In Paris, he was 
smothering ; at Toulon, he drew a full breath. In 
Paris, in the neighborhood of the Directors, he feared 
to seem to be their subordinate ; and in his relations 
with them he assumed alternately an air of dignity 
and one of familiarity ; but, as Madame de Stael said, 
" he failed in both. He is a man who is natural only 
when in command." At Toulon, he felt himself the 
master. He meant, to quote Madame de Stael again, 
"to become a poetic person, instead of remaining ex- 
posed to the gossip of Jacobins, which in this popular 
form is no less ingenious than that of courts." For 
all its animation and brilliancy, Paris had seemed 
a tomb, and he was glad to have lifted its heavy lid. 
In the presence of his army he felt himself a new 
man. The cheers of the soldiers and sailors, the clash 
of arms, the murmur of the waves, the voice of the 
trumpets, the roar of the drums, inspired him. He 



THE FAREWELL AT TOULON. 205 



saw only the brilliant side of war. No one knew 
whither he was going : to what coast his fleet was 
bound — whether to Portugal or to England ; to the 
Crimea or to Egypt. Did he mean to conquer the land 
of the Pharaohs ? To pierce the Isthmus of Suez ? 
To capture Jerusalem like Godfrey of Bouillon, and 
to penetrate into India, like Alexander? Those 
mysteries fired the imagination of the masses. The 
great interest in the expedition was due to ignorance 
of its destination. The same uncertainty prevailed 
over Europe, Africa, and Asia. England was anx- 
iously wondering where the thunderbolt would fall. 

The more perilous the adventure, the greater its 
charm for Bonaparte. He was like those riders who 
care only for a restive horse. It was a keen joy to 
him to stake everything and defy fortune. Through- 
out his career we find this love of the extraordinary, 
of the unknown, this desire to cope with obstacles 
generally thought insuperable. He always pursued 
victory as a hunter pursues his prey, as the gambler 
tries to win, — with a devouring passion. When he 
was about to leave his wife and country, any feeling 
of regret would have seemed to him unworthy of a 
man ; a tear he would have thought a weakness. 
What he really loved, was no longer Josephine, but 
glory. 

A few months before, he would perhaps have taken 
his wife with him to the wars ; but now the lover has 
given place to the hero. He was to write to her no 
more love-letters such as he wrote from Italy. It was 



206 CITIZENESS BONAPARTE. 

no longer Jean Jacques Rousseau who interested 
him ; but Plutarch, the Bible, the Koran. As soon 
as they reached Toulon, he told Josephine that he 
could not take her to Egypt, since he was unwilling 
to expose her to the fatigues and dangers of the 
voyage, the climate, and the expedition. Josephine 
said that all these things had no terrors for a woman 
like her ; that in three voyages she had already sailed 
more than five thousand leagues ; that she was a 
Creole and the heat of the East could do her no harm. 
Bonaparte, to console her, promised that she should 
follow within two months, when he should be settled 
in Egypt; and that he would send to fetch her the 
frigate Pomone^ which had brought her to France 
the first time. So Josephine wrote to her daughter. 
May 15 : " My dear Hortense, I have been for iive 
days at Toulon ; I was not tired by the journey, but 
was very sorry to have left you so suddenly without 
being able to say good by to you and to my dear 
Caroline. But I am somewhat consoled by the hope 
of seeing you again very soon. Bonaparte does not 
wish me to sail with him, but wants me to go to 
some watering-place before undertaking the voyage to 
Italy. He will send for me in two months. So, dear 
Hortense, I shall soon have the pleasure of pressing 
you to my heart, and of telling you how much I love 
you. Good by, my dear girl." 

Bonaparte knew from the movements of the Eng- 
lish that he had better be off without delay, but con- 
trary winds kept him detained for ten days at Toulon. 



THE FABEWELL AT TOULON. 207 

He spent this time in addressing the army, completing 
the loading, and organizing a system of tactics. Five 
hundred sail were about to set forth on the Mediter- 
ranean. The fleet, which was supplied with water for 
a month, and with food for two months, carried about 
forty thousand men of all sorts, and ten thousand 
sailors. Five hundred grenadiers, accustomed to ar- 
tillery, were placed on each three-decker, with orders, 
in case the English fleet was sighted, to bear down 
on it, and range alongside in order. Never had so 
vast a naval expedition been seen. Soldiers and sail- 
ors were full of confidence. Yet cooler heads, not 
carried away by warlike ardor and by the twofold 
fervor of youth and courage, were well aware of the 
great dangers which rendered the success of the expe- 
dition improbable, if not impossible. 

Arnault, who sailed with the army, said that if the 
fleet had met the enemy on the voyage, it would have 
been lost, not because the flower of the Army of Italy 
was not present in sufficiently large numbers, but for 
the very opposite reason. Since they were distributed 
about in ships with their full quota of men already on 
board, the soldiers tripled on each ship the number of 
men necessary for its defence ; and in such case every- 
thing superfluous is a positive disadvantage. If a fight 
had taken place, their movements would have been 
confused, the handling of the ships encumbered, and 
cannon-balls of the enemy would necessarily have 
found three men where, in ordinary circumstances, it 
would have found one or no one at all. Arnault 



208 CITIZEN ESS BONAPARTE. 

also mentions the inconvenience produced by the ar- 
tillery and its material : the shrouds were obstructed, 
the decks littered by it. " In case of attack, all would 
have had to be thrown into the sea, and we should 
have begun by sacrificing to defence the means of 
conquest. Even a victory would have ruined the 
expedition. We prayed Heaven that the generalis- 
simo would not find himself compelled to win one ! " 

Marmont says the same thing, and that he would 
not undertake to justify an expedition made in the 
face of so many adverse chances. He adds that the 
ships were insufficiently equipped, the crew short- 
handed and ignorant, the men-of-war encumbered 
with troops and the artillery material which pre- 
vented proper handling ; that this vast fleet, composed 
of sloops and vessels of every sort, would have been 
of necessity scattered, and even destroyed, by meeting 
any squadron ; that it was impossible to count upon 
a victory, and even then a victory would not have 
saved the convoy. " For the expedition to succeed," 
Marmont goes on, "there was required a smooth 
voyage, and no sight of the enemy ; but how expect 
such good luck in view of the enforced slowness of 
our progress, and of the pause we were to make before 
Malta? All the probabilities were then against us; 
Ave had not one chance in a hundi'ed; we were sailing 
with a light heart to almost certain ruin. It must be 
acknowledged that we were playing a costly game, 
which even success would scarcely warrant." 

Yet Bonaparte could not admit that Fortune would 



THE FAJREWELL AT TOULON. 209 

be unkind to him. He had won so many favors from 
her that he deemed her his slave. He feared storms 
no more than he feared Nelson's ships. In his eyes 
obstacles were idle dreams. Returning, as well as 
going, he never thought of fearing the English 
cruisers. He said to himself. What can there be to 
fear for the shijD that carries me and my fortune ? 
But he was not alone in this faith in his destiny ; he 
succeeded in communicating it to his companions. 
He believed in himself, and they believed in him. 
He had, in fact, reached one of those moments when 
great men sincerely imagine themselves above human 
nature, and look upon themselves as demi-gods. 

May 19, the day of the departure. Nelson, the 
English admiral, was guarding the port. A violent 
squall, which damaged only one of the French 
frigates, drove the English fleet into the offing, and 
damaged it so severely that Nelson was obliged to 
withdraw for repairs, and he could not resume his 
station before Toulon till June 1, twelve days after 
the French fleet had sailed. The farewell of Bona- 
parte and Josephine was most touching. " All who 
have known Madame Bonaparte," says Bourrienne, 
" know that there have been few women so amiable. 
Her husband loved her passionately. He had carried 
her with him to Toulon, to see her until the last 
moment; could he know when he parted from her 
when he should see her again, even whether he should 
ever see her?" 

The hour of departure had come. Bonaparte's 



210 CITIZENESS BONAPARTE. 

proclamation had found the hearts of all his men. 
" Soldiers, you have fought on mountain, plains, in 
sieges ; there remains war at sea for you. The Ro- 
man legions, whom you have sometimes imitated, 
but not yet equalled, fought Carthage both on this 
sea and on the plains of Zama. Victory never de- 
serted them, because they were brave, patient to 
endure fatigue, disciplined and united. The Genius 
of Liberty, which, since its birth, has made France 
the arbiter of Europe, demands that she become that 
of the seas and of the remotest nations." The fleet 
awaited the signal ; the cannon of the ships replied 
to those of the forts. A vast multitude covering the 
heights above the port gazed with patriotic emotion 
on the imposing spectacle, which was lit by a bril- 
liant sun. Josephine was on a balcony of the In- 
tendant's house, trying to make out her husband, 
who was already embarked, through a spyglass. 
What was to become of the French fleet? Would it 
be able' to get supplies at Malta? Would the im- 
pregnable fortress open its doors ? Would he get to 
Egypt ? Would they be able to land ? Would they 
have to fight, not merely against the Mamelukes, but 
also against the numberless hordes of Turkey ? What 
did it matter ? Bonaparte believed himself master of 
fortune. Josephine was at once alarmed and proud, 
— alarmed at seeing her husband brave the equally 
fickle waves of the sea and of destiny ; and proud of 
the cheers that saluted the departing hero. At a signal 
from the admiral's flagship, the sails were bent, the 



THE F ABE WELL AT TOULON. 211 

sliips started, with a strong breeze from the north- 
west. But it was not without difficulty that the 
fleet got out of the roadstead. Many ships drag 
their anchors and are helpless. The Orient^ carrying 
one hundred and twenty guns, on board of which 
was Bonaparte, careened so much as to cause great 
anxieties among the spectators upon the shore. Jose- 
phine trembled, but soon she was reassured ; the ves- 
sel righted, and while the cheers of the multitude 
mingled with the music of the departing bands and 
the roar of the guns from the fleet and the forts, it 
sailed forth majestically upon the open sea. 



XXII. 

PARIS DURING THE YEAR Vn. 

JUST as in the most irascible natures a calm 
always follows violent wrath, so a city, however 
fiery its passions, cannot always remain in a paroxysm 
of energy or hate. After terrible popular crises there 
comes a lassitude which often ends in indifference or 
scepticism. A revolutionary song, the Marseillaise^ 
for instance, at one moment arouses every one, and 
sounds like a sublime hymn ; at another, like an old- 
fashioned, worn-out chorus. Orators who a few 
months ago moved the masses suddenly resemble 
old actors who cannot draw. Of all cities in the 
world, Paris is perhaps the ficklest in its tastes and 
passions. During the Year VII. Paris was weary 
of everything except pleasures and military glory. 
Politics, literature, newspapers, parliamentary de- 
bates, had but little interest for a populace which 
for nearly ten years had seen such varied sights and 
endured such intense emotions. 

As Theophile Lavallee has said : " Every one 
laughed at the Republic, not merely at its festivals 
and absurd dresses, but at its wisest institutions, at 

212 



PARIS DUBING THE YEAE VIL 213 

its purest men." A goddess of Reason would not 
have been able to walk through the streets without 
exciting the jests of the crowd. Patriotic processions 
began to be looked upon as masquerades. The club 
orators were regarded as tedious preachers. The 
vast majority of Parisians cared no more for the 
Jacobins than for the emigres, and listened no more 
to the denunciations of the one party than to the 
lamentations of the other. There was no room for 
the Republican legend or for the Royalist. What 
ruled Paris was not an idea, but selfishness, the love 
of material joys, scornful indifference for every form 
of rule except that of the sword. Only a few sin- 
cere, honest Republicans, like the upright Gohier, re- 
mained true to their principles and determined stren- 
uously to resist every attempt to found a dictatorship ; 
but abandoned by public opinion, which, after having 
had liberty for its ideal, had got a new idol, and 
bowed down before force, these men, whose austerity 
no longer suited the manners of the day, found them- 
selves estranged from all about them. 

The Directory, too much tinctured by Royalism to 
suit the Republicans, too Republican for the Royal- 
ists, was no longer taken seriously. It inspired, not 
wrath, but contempt. The flatterers of B arras paid 
court to him merely with their lips ; and he — for he 
was very clear-sighted — felt that he had come to the 
end of his tether. The following lines upon this 
democratic gentleman were passed from hand to 
hand : — 



214 CITIZENESS BON APATITE. 

" More than ISTero is my viscount a despot ; 
Strutting beneath his red cap 
This king of straw harangues in a tone 
At which the idler laughs low in his grime ; 
'Tis Harlequin, Pantaloon, or Jack pudding, 
Putting on the airs of Agamemnon." 

The festivities of the Luxembourg had lost all their 
importance, and every one was watcliing the horizon 
where the rising sun should appear. 

Paris was not conspicuous for morality. The re- 
suscitation of the religious feeling, of which the pub- 
lication of the GrSnie du Christianisme was to be the 
signal, was yet almost invisible. The worship of the 
Theophilanthropists, founded by La Reveillere Le- 
paux, one of the Directors, was a riiere burlesque. 
The new religion imposed upon its adherents a very 
short creed. As the Goncourts have said : " It was 
a belief of the compactest form. Its temples were 
distinguished by the inscription : ' Silence and Re- 
spect ; here God is worshipped.' It recommended 
virtue by means of handbills. With compilations 
from Greek and Chinese moralists, Theophilanthropy 
had pilfered the wisdom of nations to make of it a 
moral code. It rested on a library instead of on a 
tabernacle. Its Fater JYoster, as proposed by one of 
the members of the sect, had expunged the phrase, 
who art in heaven^ because God is omnipresent ; also 
the phrase, forgive us our trespasses as we forgive 
those who have trespassed against us, because that is 
equivalent to saying imitate us ; and finally the 
phrase, lead us not into temptation, on the ground that 



PARIS DURING THE YEAR VII. 215 

it changes God into a devil. Every one — Catholics, 
Jew^s, Protestants, Mohammedans — could be The- 
ophilanthropists, preserving whatever they vranted of 
their religion. The feast days of the nevr worship 
were those of the Foundation of the Republic, of the 
Sovereignty of the People, of Youth, of Married 
People, of Agriculture, of Liberty, of Old Age. The 
priests of Theophilanthropy, by means of their prayers 
for all the acts of the government, secured official 
favor. The Catholic churches were allotted to them 
in common with their original possessors, and the 
same churches were open from six till eleven in the 
morning for the rites of Catholicism, and after eleven 
for those of the Theophilanthropists. But the sect 
of the hunchbacked Director — Mahomet, the The- 
ophilanthropist. La Reveillere-laid-peau, as he was 
called — was to last but four years at the most, and 
to succumb to ridicule. This grotesque imitation of 
Christianity could no longer please the impious more 
than the devout, and wags were going to call this 
iEsop in office the pope of the citoyens filoux-en-troupe 
[gang of sharpers]." 

Certainly it was not from this new sect that a 
reform in morals could come ; other springs were de- 
manded for the purification of society. Scandal 
became the order of the day. From the dregs of 
society there rose a swarm of upstarts, the product 
of speculation and immorality, who made a display 
of their cynical habits, their tasteless luxury, their 
grotesque conceit. The Republic possessed number- 



216 CITIZEN ESS BONAPARTE. 

less Turcarets. These upstarts tried to outdo the old 
farmers-general. Royalists and Republicans vied in 
viciousness and frivolity. Women's fashions became 
abominably indecent. The parody of antiquity knew 
no bounds. "By the restoration of Olympus," the 
Goncourts have said, " the Impossibles of the new 
France derived so much benefit that they tried grad- 
ually to introduce nakedness. The robe fell lower 
upon the bosom, and arms which had been covered 
to the elbow, being suspected of being ugly arms, 
were bared to the shoulder. It was with the legs 
and feet as it was with the arms. Jewelled thongs 
were fastened about the ankles, — 

" * The diamond alone should set off 
The charms which wool dishonors,' — 

and gold rings were worn on the toes." For some 
time even the chemise was abandoned as old-fash- 
ioned. " The chemise," it was said, " mars the figure, 
and makes awkward folds ; a well-made juste lost its 
grace and precision by means of the waving and 
awkward folds of this old garment. . . . Women 
have worn chemises for nearly two thousand years; 
it was an absurdly old fashion." 

Nothing was more fatal to the health than those 
fashions which required the sun of Greece, and were 
yet worn by our French Aspasias through the fogs 
and frost of our winters. Dr. Delessarts said, 
towards the end of 1798, that he had seen more 
young girls die since the fashion of gauze dresses 



PABI8 nUBING THE YEAR VII. 217 

came in, than in the forty years before. The extrav- 
agant fashions were destined to last no longer than 
the sect of Theophilanthropists. The poet Panard 
represented Venus, at the last council of Olympus, 
as opposing these too transparent draperies : — 

" The charms that everywhere 
Without veil are admired to-day, 
By dint of speaking to the eye, 
Leave nothing to say to the heart." 

Women have put on their chemises again, and 
decency resumed its rights. 

Society gradually reorganized itself, but slowly and 
with difficulty. A few aristocratic drawing-rooms 
opened, but only to ridicule the new institutions, to 
sneer at men and things. The official world, in 
which app^red a few ambitious gentlemen, was 
crowded with intriguers, speculators, parasites, the 
flatterers of every form of power. If the drawing- 
rooms were rare, theatres, subscription balls, public 
gardens, caf^s, tea-gardens, abounded. The Cafe 
Very, the balls of Richelieu, of Tivoli, of Marbeuf, 
the Pavilion of Hanover, Frascati, were fashionable, 
and the motley throng that filled them did not pre- 
vent good society crowding them for amusement. 
The families of the victims did not mind meeting 
the executioners. Why hate one another, after all ? 
Who knows, the foes of yesterday may be the allies 
of the morrow I Royalists and Jacobins had a 
common enemy, the Directory, which had perse- 



218 CITIZEN ESS BONAPARTE. 

cuted each in turn. Conquerors and conquered, pro- 
scribers and proscribed, met in the same dance. 

People of the old regime plunged into amusement 
like the rest, with hearty zeal, but yet with some 
alarm. Who could pass through the Place de la 
Revolution without recalling the scaffold? Blood- 
stains still seemed to mark the stones. And the 
18th Fructidor, the transportation to Cayenne, the 
dry guillotine, as it was called, made the blood run 
cold. However short a Parisian's memory, those 
events were of too recent a date for him not to dread 
the future. The survivors of the Jacobins had 
opened the Club du Manege. It had not the renown 
of the old clubs, but it was still alarming, and the 
orators' voices sounded like a funeral knell. The 
enemies of liberty and friends of the approaching 
dictatorship never forgot to recall the red spectre 
against the Republic. Without suspecting it, all 
parties were preparing to play Bonaparte's game. 
This man, who bewitched France, was to persuade 
all, without saying a word, that he was the protector 
and saviour of every one. Everything was to 
crumble into ruins ; only one man would be left. Of 
the Republican legend, only the military side sur- 
vived. Those who were tired of speeches were eager 
for bulletins of victories. The Parisian public 
became more interested in the shores of the Nile 
than in those of the Seine. News from Bonaparte 
became more interesting, as English cruisers made 
it even more difficult and rarer. As Madame 



PARIS DURING THE YEAR VII. 219 



de Stael said, "letters dated Cairo, orders issued 
from Alexandria to go to the ruins of Thebes, near 
the boundaries of Ethiopia, augmented the reputa- 
tion of a man who was not seen, but who appeared 
from afar like an extraordinary phenomenon. . . . 
Bonaparte skilfully utilizing the enthusiasm of the 
French for military glory, allied their pride with his 
victories as with his defeats. Gradually he acquired 
with all people the place the Revolution had held, 
and gathered about his name all the national feel- 
ing which had made France great before the world." 
The period of incubation of the dictatorship is a 
most interesting study. Paris of the Year VII. ex- 
plains Paris of the Consulate and of the Empire. 
The change was made in morals and manners before 
it appeared in politics. There is something strange 
in the fluctuation of the Parisian between liberty that 
is license and order which is despotism. This illogi- 
cal and fickle populace is in turn the most ungovern- 
able and the most docile in the world. Everything 
lies in knowing whether it is in a period of agitation 
or of repose. When it is agitated, it would break any 
sword, any sceptre. When it is at peace, it asks its 
masters only to guard its slumbers. 



XXIII. 

JOSEPHINE DURING THE EGYPTIAN CAMPAIGN. 

WE have just glanced at Paris in the Year VII. 
Let us now see what place was taken there by 
Madame Bonaparte, her relatives and friends, and the 
society of which she formed a part. 

Josephine did not return directly to Paris after her 
husband sailed from Toulon, but went to Plombieres 
for the waters, and stayed there three months. She met 
with an alarming accident there: a wooden balcon;^ 
on which she was standing with several ladies of her 
acquaintance, gave way, and she was severely bruised 
by the fall, so that for some days she was in danger. 
At Plombieres she received her first tidings from the 
Egyptian expedition, from the capture of Malta to 
that of Cairo, and learned from Bonaparte's letters 
that she must give up all hope of joining him there. 
Later she heard that the Pomone, the ship in which 
she meant to sail to Egypt, had returned to France, 
and had "been captured by an English cruiser just as 
it had left the harbor of Toulon. 

At the end of September, 1798, Josephine returned 
to Paris and bought the estate of Malmaison, near the 

220 



DURING THE EGYPTIAN CAMPAIGN. 221 

village of Rueil. It cost one hundred and sixty thou- 
sand francs, and she paid for it in part with her 
dowry, in part with her husband's money. Here she 
passed the late autumn of 1798 and the summer of 
1799. The winter she spent in Paris in her little 
house in the rue de la Victoire. 

Her position at this time was not a wholly happy 
one. No one knew when her husband would come 
back from Egypt. He had himself told her when 
he left that he might be gone five or six years ; and 
possibly he carried with him some suspicions about 
his wife which had been carefully strengthened by 
Joseph and Lucien, who were jealous of their sister- 
in-law's influence over their brother. Josephine's 
detractors asserted that she was untrue to her hus- 
band, but they could give no proof of their insinua- 
tions. Besides, when there is no public scandal, 
history has no right to pry into such matters. For 
all their malevolence, Bonaparte's brothers were un- 
able to tarnish the reputation of a woman who, far 
from her husband and son, had no one to defend her. 

Madame de Remusat describes, in her Memoirs, a 
visit which she and her mother, Madame de Ver- 
gennes, made at Malmaison. " Madame Bonaparte," 
she says, "was naturally expansive, and even some- 
what indiscreet; and she had no sooner seen my 
mother than she confided to her a number of things 
about her absent husband, her brothers-in-law, in 
short, about a world of which we knew nothing. 
Bonaparte was looked upon as lost to France ; his 



222 CITIZEN ESS BONAPARTE. 

wife was neglected. My mother took pity on her; 
we paid her some attentions, which she never forgot." 
Does not this language betray some of the scorn which 
the people of the old regime felt for the new ? 

Legitimist society had no more respect for Bona- 
parte than for the other prominent persons of the 
Revolution, and tried to turn to ridicule this family 
of insignificant Corsican gentry who would have cut 
such a modest figure at the court of Louis XI Y. It 
found fault with Madame Bonaparte for her relations 
with Madame Tallien and the set of the Directory. 
The habitues of Coblentz did not respect even mili- 
tary glory, and those who, a few years later, were to 
throng the Emperor's palace, spoke contemptuously 
of the Republican general. If the hero of Arcole had 
fanatical admirers, he had also implacable detractors. 
When he was leaving for Egypt, these satirical lines 
were in circulation : — 

" What talents are thrown into the water ! 
What fortunes squandered ! 
How many ai'e hastenmg to the grave, 
To carry Bonaparte to the clouds ! 
This warrior is worth his weight in gold. 
In France no one doubts this ; 
, But he would be worth still more 

If he were worth what he costs ns." 

Madame Bonaparte, whose main interest lay in the 
fragments of the Faubourg Saint Germain, suffered 
much from these pin-pricks. She esjDecially dreaded 
the beautiful and caustic Madame de Contades, 



DURING THE EGYPTIAN CAMPAIGN. 223 

daughter and sister of the MM. de Bouille, whose 
name is inseparably connected with the affair of 
Varennes. "Everything about her was eccentric," 
says the Duchess of Abrantes, speaking of this lady, 
who had recently returned to France. " She was not 
melancholy, — far from it, — yet no one would have 
dared to laugh in the room where she was, unless she 
had set the example. Her hatred for Bonaparte was 
most amusing. She would not even acknowledge 
that he deserved his reputation. 'Come, come,' she\ 
used to say when my mother spoke of all his victories 
in Italy and Egypt ; ' I could do as much with a 
glance.' " 

Let us listen to the Duchess of Abrantes as she de- 
scribes a ball at the Th^lusson mansion (at the end 
of the rue Cerutti, now rue Laffitte). "'Who are 
those two ladies ? ' asked Madame de Damas of the 
old Marquis d'Hautefort, on whose arm she was. 
' What I don't you recognize the Viscountess de Beau- 
harnais ? That is she with her daughter. She is now 
Madame Bonaparte. Stop ! Here is a place at her 
side ; sit down here, and renew your acquaintance.' 
Madame de Damas's sole reply was to shove the old 
marquis so hard that she hustled him into one of 
the little rooms before the large rotunda. ' Are you 
mad ? ' she asked when they were in the other room. 
' A nice place, upon my word, next to Madame Bona- 
parte ! Ernestine would have had to be introduced 
to her daughter. You are beside yourself. Marquis.' 
' Not at all ! Why in the world shouldn't Ernestine 



224 CITIZENESS BONAPARTE. 

make her acquaintance, or even become a friend of 
Mademoiselle Hortense de Beauharnais ? She is a 
charming person, gentle and amiable.' ' What differ- 
ence does that make to me ? I don't want to have 
anything to do with such women. I don't like peo- 
ple who dishonor their misfortunes.' The Marquis 
d'Hautefort shrugged his shoulders and made no 
reply." 

Many Royalists could not forgive Bonaparte either 
the 13th Vendemiaire or his indirect participation in 
the 18th Fructidor, and blamed Josephine for her 
friendship with regicides. They thought that these 
ties on the part of the wife of a guillotined nobleman 
ill became her birth and antecedents, and that in her 
new position there was something like apostasy. She 
consoled herself, however, for the intensity of some 
of the Legitimists with others who, with more fore- 
thought, were already paying their court to her in 
anticipation of the near future. The Marquis of 
Caulaincourt (the father of the future Duke of 
Vicenza) saw her very often and gave her wise ad- 
vice. In the drawing-room of Madame de Permon 
(mother of the future Duchess of Abrant^s) she met 
all that was left of the former society of the Faubourg 
Saint Germain, and the brilliant circle of fashionable 
young men, — de Noailles, de Montcalm, de Perigord, 
de Montron, de Rastignac, de I'Aigle, de Montaigu, de 
la Feuillade, de Sainte-Aulaire. Josephine appeared 
very well in this centre of elegance. The life of Paris 
suited her to a charm. She liked balls, dinner-par- 



BUBING THE EGYPTIAN CAMPAIGN. 225 

ties, concerts, the theatre, pleasure-parties. She was 
a delightful hostess, and presided with great success 
over a circle of friends and admirers. Her Thursday 
receptions in the rue de la Victoire were deservedly 
famous. Among the women she knew intimately 
were the Countess Fanny de Beauharnais, Madame 
Caffarelli, the Countess of Houdetot, Madame Andre- 
ossy, and the two rival beauties, Madame Tallien 
and Madame Regnault de Saint-Jean-d'Angely. Al- 
though indifferently educated, Josephine had a vague 
notion of literature, and gladly received famous writ- 
ers and artists. It was at her house, at the time of 
the Egyptian expedition, that Legouve read his Merite 
des Femmes, and that Bailly recited his drama, the 
Abbe de VEpee. In her drawing-room there used to 
meet Bernardin de Saint-Pierre, Ducis, Lemercier, 
Joseph Chenier, Mehul, Talma, Volney, Andrieux, 
Picard, Colin d'Harleville, Baour-Lormian, Alexan- 
dre Duval. 

With the Bonapartes Josephine exercised diplo- 
macy. With great tact she concealed her discontent 
with them, and avoided an open breach with any of 
the members of this vindictive family, who were all 
annoyed by her influence over Napoleon. Before he 
left for Egypt he had desired to see his mother and 
brothers and sisters comfortably settled in Paris. Al- 
though younger than Joseph, he already regarded 
himself as the head of the Bonaparte family, and was 
determined to assert his authority. In his absence, 
his mother, Madame Letitia, who was born at Leg- 



226 CITIZEN ESS BONAPARTE. 

horn in 1750, and still preserved traces of marvellous 
beauty, still held much control over her children. 
She was a woman of great energy, Avith an impetuous 
character and an iron will, firm to the point of ob- 
stinacy, economical even to avarice for herself, but 
generous to the poor, and lavish so far as her son 
Napoleon's glory was concerned; she was kind at 
heart, though with a cold exterior, but with no breed- 
ing. Madame Letitia, who was rather a Roman ma- 
tron than a modern woman, never forgave Josephine 
her frivolous ways, her extravagance, her inordi- 
nate love of dress. She would have preferred for 
Napoleon a more serious and more economical wife, 
and deeply regretted a marriage which she thought 
had not made her son happy. 

Joseph, the oldest child, was an honest man, gentle, 
sympathetic, well-bred, straightforward ; his man- 
ners were courteous, his face was attractive. He 
was born in 1768, and had married, at the end of 
1794, a rich young woman of Marseilles, Mademoi- 
selle Marie Julie Clary, and was the possessor of a 
moderate fortune for that time. After being Am- 
bassador of the French Republic at Rome, he had 
returned to Paris, bringing with him his wife's sister, 
Mademoiselle Desiree Clary, whom Napoleon had 
wished to marry. At that time she was in deep 
affliction on account of the tragic death of General 
Duphot, who had been killed at Rome, almost before 
her eyes, shortly before the day set for their mar- 
riage. After a few months of mourning, she was 



BUBING THE EGYPTIAN CAMPAIGN. 227 

consoled, and August 16, 1798, while living with her 
brother-in-law, Joseph, in the rue du Rocher, she mar- 
ried the future King of Sweden, Bernadotte. 

Lucien, who was born in 1775, was the youngest 
of the Deputies of the Council of Five Hundred. 
He possessed a rare intelligence, was well educated, 
and had a real passion for letters. He ^vrote much, 
composed verses, and aspired for fame of all sorts. 
He was a ready speaker, familiar with antiquity, a 
man of both imagination and action, and skilfully 
furthered his brother's glory and interests. He was 
active, ardent, full of resources, and, in spite of his 
youth, he exercised considerable influence on his 
colleagues in the Council of Five Hundred. He was 
considered a Republican, and he was one in fact; 
and even on the 18th Brumaire he imagined that 
he was still loyal to the Revolutionary cause. In 
1794 he had held a modest position as warehouse- 
man in a little province village of the name of Saint 
Maximin, which, after 1793, had assumed the name 
of Marathon. He adopted the name of Brutus. 
Citizen Brutus Bonaparte — for so the future Prince 
of Canino was called — fell in love with a pretty and 
respectable girl, Christine Boyer, whose father was 
an innkeeper at Saint Maximin. Lucien married 
her, and Napoleon was furious at a marriage which 
he looked upon as most unsuitable ; but Madame 
Lucien Bonaparte, who was handsome and gentle, 
soon acquired the manners of good society, and was 
perfectly at home in the finest drawing-room. 



228 CJTTIZENES8 BONAPARTE. 

Louis Bonaparte, who was born in 1779, had 
accompanied Napoleon to Egypt, but returned to 
Paris with despatches. Although later he was to 
prove more liostile to Josephine than either Jose[)h 
or Lucien, before the 18th lirumaire he maintained 
friendly relations with his sister-in-law, who perhaps 
thought of him as a son-in-law. 

The youngest of Napoleon's brothers, Jerome, was 
born in 1784; lie was lively, amiable, intelligent, 
clever ; but rattle-pated, turbident, fond of pleasure, 
and tired of always having Eugene de Beauharnais 
spoken of as the model whom he should imitate. 

Madame Letitia lived in the rue du Rocher with 
lier son Joseph and his wife, an agreeable and worthy 
woman. Of Napoleon's thi'ce sistoi's, the eldest, 
Elisa, who was born in 1777, and married in 1797 to 
Felix Bacciochi, lived in the grande rue Verte, like 
Lucien. The second, Pauline, who was born in 
1780, and during the Italian campaign had married 
General Leclerc, lived in the rue de la Ville I'Eveque. 
Caroline, who was born in 1782, was finishing her 
education at Madame Campan's school at Saint 
Germain, where she was a companion of Hortense de 
Beauharnais. 

All these girls had inherited tlieir motlier's beauty, 
especially Pauline, who was called the handsomest 
woman in Paris, and was ,the belle of every ball at 
which she was present. With tlie aml)ition of a 
daughter of Ca3sars, and her irresistible beauty, she 
triumphed in every drawing-room as did her brotlier 



DURING THE EGYPTIAN CAMPAIGN. 229 

on the battle-field. She was one of those coquettes 
who wring from the public a cry of admiration and 
surprise as soon as they appear in siglit ; wlio make 
the most of all their advantages, and, regarding the 
world as a stage, are, so to speak, artistic beauties. 
Madame Leclerc was moderately fond of her sister- 
in-law, Josephine, who, although older and less beau- 
tiful, held a much more important position in the 
Paris world. As for Caroline Bonaparte, she promised \ 
not only to possess great beauty, but even a more 
ambitious spirit than her sister Pauline. 

It was not easy for Josephine to remain even on 
decorous, not to say affectiojiate, terms with tliis large 
and powerful family. Already the antagonism be- 
tween the Bonapartes and the Beauharnais began to 
manifest itself ; and the intrigues, the jealousies, the 
contesting influences to be seen in courts, appeared 
under the Republic, even before Na})olc()n attained 
power. The house in the rue de la Victoire was, so 
to speak, a palace of the Tuileries on a small scale ; 
in it could be discerned the rising germs of the am- 
bitions, heart-burnings, quarrels, which were to fk)ur- 
ish full-grown under the Consulate and tlic Empire. 

Besides these family annoyances, Josephine was 
often short of money. She spent vast sums on dress, 
and displayed that com})ination of luxury and want 
which distinguishes thriftless people. Slie owned 
costly jewels, and often lacked money to pay the 
most insignificant debts. Madame (h? Uemusat tells 
us that at this period Madame Bonaparte showed her, 



230 CITIZEN ESS BONAPABTE. 

at Malmaison, "the prodigious quantity of pearls, 
diamonds, and cameos which she possessed; they 
were ah^eady worthy to figure in the Thousand and 
One Nights^ and were yet to be added to enormously. 
Italy, grateful after the invasion, had contributed to 
this abundance, and particularly the Pope, who was 
touched by the consideration displayed by the con- 
queror in denying himself the pleasure of planting 
his banners on the walls of Rome." Madame de 
Remusat adds that the owner of these treasures, 
whose place was filled with pictures, statues, and 
mosaics, was often in want. 

But Josephine bore her troubles very lightly ; and 
the money troubles that beset her did not distress 
her beyond measure, for she had no doubts of the 
happy fortune that awaited her. Amiable, affection- 
ate, insinuating, with gentle manners, an even temper, 
a deep voice, a kindly face, Josephine was a charm- 
ing woman. Never offending any one, never disposed 
to argue about politics or anything else, distinctly 
obliging, endowed with that careless grace that 
distinguishes Creoles, anxious to win every one's 
sympathy, pleasing people of every social position, 
she also possessed most fully the rare quality which 
covers every fault and is especially attractive in 
women, — kindliness. Royalists forgave the Republi- 
can origin of the hero of the 13th Vend^miaire, when 
they said, " His wife is so kind." People who had 
dreaded a presentation to Bonaparte paid homage toi 
Josephine. We shall see, under the Consulate, peo- 



DURING THE EGYPTIAN CAMPAIGN. 231 

pie of the old regime visiting Madame Bonaparte on 
the ground floor, without going a story higher, where 
the First Consul lived. Josephine, while seeking 
Legitimist society, took care to be well received in 
Republican society. She went to all the entertain- 
ments of the Directory, and secured the good graces 
of the official world. Her relations with B arras, 
who had been one of the witnesses at her wedding, 
and the main author of her good fortune, continued 
to be excellent. She especially cultivated the friend- 
ship of a Republican lady of austere virtue, — Madame 
Gohier, wife of one of the Directors. She thought, 
and rightly, that intimacy with a woman whose repu- 
tation was spotless would defend her own. Moreover, 
the Gohier conciliated those Republicans whose in- 
stinctive dread of her husband's ambition needed to 
be allayed. 

According to Josephine, Bonaparte was the purest 
of patriots, and those who dared to doubt this were 
moved by malice or envy. This woman, in spite of her 
frivolous, insignificant appearance, intrigued like an 
experienced diplomatist. She did not think herself 
skilful, yet she was ; just as many think they are, 
and are not. The greatest men have been aided by 
women, whether they knew it or not. Without Jo- 
sephine, it is probable that Napoleon would never 
have become Emperor. It was in vain that he told 
her not to talk politics or to meddle with affairs : she 
was still the most efficient aid to his plans, and dur- 
ing his absence she prepared the field on which he 
was to show himself the master. 



XXIV. 

BONAPARTE IN EGYPT. 

TACITUS uttered a profound truth when he said, 
'-^ Major e longinquo reverentia^^' which may be 
thus translated : " Distance adds to glory." Bonaparte 
in Egypt became for the Parisians an epic hero ; the 
Pyramids were the pedestal of his glory. The forty 
centuries of their history became -the prologue of his 
career. Egypt, Palestine, Syria, those famous and 
wonderful names, what memories they called forth : 
the Pharaohs, the Holy Land, Christ, the Crusaders, 
the Bible, the Gospel, the Delivery of Jerusalem! 
Bonaparte, who wrapt himself in his fame, like Talma 
in a Roman toga ; Bonaparte, who said, " It's imagi- 
nation that rules the world " ; Bonaparte, who during 
all the acts of the great drama of his life, kept 
thinking of the Parisians as Alexander ever thought 
of the Athenians, had conjectured the effect which 
such an expedition would produce on the democratic 
chivalry, sprung from the Revolution, and felt the 
same ardor, the same courage, the same thirst for 
adventures as the old French nobility. Did the 
Crusaders display more audacity or heroism than the 
232 



BONAPARTE IN EGYPT. 233 

companions of the conqueror of the Pyramids, and is 
there a Golden Book greater than the collection of 
his proclamations, in which are inscribed the imper- 
ishable names of so many brave men ? 

Heated by the sun, fired by perpetual victory, the 
young general conceived gigantic plans. Nowhere 
did this poet who carried out in life his visions feel 
so fully at ease as in this old land of Egypt, which 
opened its vast and brilliant horizons before him. 
Even after his coronation, after Austerlitz, he was to 
regret this land of his dreams, where he had planned 
the conquest of Africa, and Asia, and then of Europe, 
attacked from behind. Plutarch was not enough for 
this soul tormented by a colossal ambition. His 
books were the Bible and the Koran. His Titanic 
imagination filled with Hebrew and Mahometan 
poetry, strayed in unknown and infinite regions. 
Later he told Madame de Remusat what he felt at 
this strange period of his life, when nothing seemed 
impossible. " In Egypt," he said, " I found myself 
free from the bonds of a hindering civilization; I 
dreamed strange dreams and saw the way to put 
them into action ; I created a religion ; I fancied 
myself on the way to Asia on an elephant's back, a 
turban on my head, and in my hand a new Alcoran, 
composed by me. In my enterprises I should have 
concentrated the experiences of two worlds, exploring 
for my own use the region of all histories, attacking 
the English power in India, and thereby renewing 
my relations with the old Europe." 



234 CITIZENESS BONAPABTE. 

What a succession of amazing pictures ! what 
varied scenes ! what picturesque visions ! The Nile, 
the Pyramids, the Mamelukes, their terrible cavalry 
dashing itself to pieces against the squares ; the tri- 
umphal entrance into Cairo ; the Arabs in the mosque 
singing, " Let us sing the loving-kindness of the 
great Allah I Who is he who has saved from the 
perils of the sea and the wrath of his enemies the son 
of Victory ? Who is he who has led to the shores of 
the Nile the brave men of the West? It is the great 
Allah, who is no longer wroth with us ! " Listen to 
the Oriental dialogue between Bonaparte and the 
Mufti in the Pyramid : — 

" Bonaparte. Glory be to Allah ! There is no 
God but God, and Mahomet is his prophet. The 
bread stolen by the wicked man turns to dust in his 
mouth. 

" The Mufti. Thou hast spoken like the wisest of 
Mollahs. 

" Bonaparte. I can bring down from heaven a 
chariot of fire and drive it on earth. 

" The Mufti. Thou art the greatest captain, and 
art armed with power." 

Bonaparte's condition in Egypt was at the same 
time one of grandeur and of distress. If at certain 
moments his ambition and pride fired him with the 
belief that he was not merely a conqueror but also a 
prophet, the founder of a religion, a demigod, at 
other times he was brought back to the reality by 
the cruel force of destiny. His soul was filled with 



BONAPARTE IN EGYPT. 235 

mingled enthusiasm and melancholy, with a frantic 
passion for glory and an utter contempt for all earthly 
vanities. The melancholy from which he had already 
suffered in the Italian campaign attacked him again 
in Egypt, and perhaps more severely. It inspired 
this letter to his brother Joseph, written at Cairo, 
July 25th, 1798 : " You will see in the public prints 
the result of the battles and the conquest of Egypt, 
which was hotly enough disputed to add a new leaf 
to the military glory of this army. ... I have 
many domestic trials. . . . Your friendship is very 
dear to me ; nothing is needed to make me a misan- 
thrope except to lose you and see you betray me. It 
is a sad condition to have at once every sort of feel- 
ing for the same person in one heart. Arrange for 
me to have a country-place when I return, either near 
Paris or in Burgundy. I mean to pass the winter 
there in solitude ; I am disgusted with human nature ; 
greatness palls upon me ; my feelings are all withered. 
Glory is trivial at twenty-nine ; nothing is left me 
but to become a real egoist. I mean to keep my 
house ; I shall never give it to any one whatsoever. 
I have not enough to live on. Farewell, my only 
friend ; I have never been unjust to you." 

In Egypt, as in Italy, Bonaparte's heart was torn 
with jealousy. He had doubts of Josephine's feel- 
ings, of her fidelity, and this thought pursued him 
even in his military occupations in Syria. Amid all 
these adventures and perils his imagination often 
turned to Paris. He forgot the East in thinking of 



236 CITIZENESS BONAPABTE, 

the little house in the rue de la Victoire, and the fair 
image of Josephine appeared to him, always fascinat- 
ing, but at times disturbing. He imagined her at 
the Luxembourg, at the entertainments of Barras, 
surrounded by young musicians and adorers whom 
perhaps she encouraged by her smiles. This is what 
is narrated by Bourrienne, who was present at an 
outburst of suspicious wrath before the fountains of 
Messudiah, near El-Arish. 

Bonaparte was walking alone with Junot ; his face, 
always pale, had become paler than usual. His fea- 
tures were uneasy, his eye wild. After talking with 
Junot for a quarter of an hour, he left him and went 
up to Bourrienne. "You are not devoted to me," 
he said roughly. " Women ! Josephine 1 — If you 
were devoted to me, you would have told me what 
I have just learned from Junot. He is a true friend. 
Josephine — and I'm six hundred leagues away ! You 
ought to have told me. Josephine ! — to deceive me 
in that way ! She ! — Confound them ! I will wipe 
out the whole brood of coxcombs and popinjays ! — 
As for her ! divorce ! — yes, divorce ! a public divorce ! 
a full exposure ! — I must write ! I know everything. 
You ought to have told me." 

Is not this like Shakspeare's Othello ? 

" Look here, lago ; 
All my fond love thus do I blow to heaven : 'tis gone.- — 
Arise, black vengeance, from thy hollow hell ! 
Yield np, O love ! thy crown, and hearted throne, 
To tyrannous hate ! swell, bosom, with thy fraught, 
For 'tis of aspics' tongues ! " 



BONAPARTE IN EGYPT. 237 

Bonaparte's face changed, his voice broke. 

" O ! beware, my lord, of jealousy ; 
It is the green-eyed monster, which doth mock 
The meat it feeds on : that cuckold lives in bliss, 
Who, certain of his fate, loves not his wronger : 
But, O ! what damned minutes tells he o'er. 
Who dotes, yet doubts ; suspects, yet strongly loves! " 

Bourrienne tried to calm the general ; he blamed 
Junot for a lack of generosity in thus lightly accus- 
ing a woman who was absent and unable to defend 
herself. " No," he went on ; " Junot does not prove 
his devotion by adding domestic trials to the uneasi- 
ness you feel over the situation of his companions at 
the beginning of a hazardous enterprise." Bonaparte 
was not pacified; he kept muttering something about 
divorce. Bourrienne spoke to him about his glory. 
"My glory!" he replied; "I don't know what I 
wouldn't give to know that what Junot has told me 
is not true, so much do I love that woman ! If Jose- 
phine is guilty, a divorce must separate us forever. 
... I don't wish to be the laughing-stock of all the 
idlers in Paris. I am going to write to my brother 
Joseph ; he will see to the divorce." 

Nevertheless, Bonaparte softened a little, and Bour- 
rienne at once availed himself of the moment to sa}^ : 
"A letter may be intercepted; it will betray tlie 
anger that dictated it; as for the divorce, there is 
time enough for that later, when you shall have 
reflected." Bourrienne in this case was a wiser coun- 
sellor than Junot, and Bonaparte did well to listen 
to his secretary rather than to his fellow-soldier. 



238 CITIZEN ESS BONAPARTE. 



His jealousy was so wild at this time, that he dis- 
cussed it with his step-son, Josephine's own child, 
Eugene de Beauharnais, who says in his Memoirs : 
" The commander-in-chief began to have great causes 
of annoyance, from the discontent which prevailed 
in a certain part of the army, especially among some 
generals, as well as from news he received from 
France, where attempts were made to undermine his 
domestic happiness. Though I was young, I inspired 
him with so much confidence that he spoke to me of 
his sufferings. It was generally in the evening that 
he made his complaints and confidence, striding up 
and down his tent. I was the only one to whom he 
could unbosom himself freely. I tried to soften his 
anger ; I consoled him as well as I could, — so far 
as my youth and my respect for him permitted." ^ 

The situation of a youth of seventeen receiving 
confidences of that sort is, at the least, a delicate 
one. In the whole matter he showed tact and a 
precocious wisdom, for which Bonaparte was grateful. 
" The harmony existing between my step-father and 
me," he says, " was nearly broken by the following 
incident : General Bonaparte had been paying atten- 
tions to an officer's wife, and sometimes drove out 
with her in a barouche. She was a clever woman, 
and not bad-looking. At once the rumor ran that 
she was his mistress ; so that my position as aide-de- 
camp and step-son of the General became very painful. 
Since it was part of my duty to accompany the 
General, who never went out without an aide-de-camp, 



BONAPARTE IN EGYPT. 239 

I had already had to follow this barouche ; but I felt 
so humiliated that I called on General Berthier to 
ask for a place in his regiment. A somewhat lively 
interview between my step-father and me was the 
result of this step ; but from that moment he discon- 
tinued his drives in a barouche with that lady, and 
he never treated me any less well on account of it." 

Of the eight aides-de-camp whom Bonaparte took 
with him to Egypt, four perished there, — Julien, 
Sulkowski, Croisier, and Guibert ; two were wounded, 
Duroc and Eugene de Beauharnais ; Merlin and 
Lavalette alone got through safe and sound. If there 
was a dangerous duty, — to ride into the desert and 
reconnoitre the bands of Arabs or Mamelukes, — 
Eugene was always the first to volunteer. One day, 
when he was hastening forward with his usual eager- 
ness, Bonaparte called him back, saying, "Young 
man, remember that in our business we must never 
seek danger; we must be satisfied with doing our 
duty, and doing it well, and leave the rest to God ! " 

Another time, during the siege of Saint Jean 
d'Acre, the commander-in-chief sent an officer with 
an order to the most exposed position ; he was killed. 
Bonaparte sent another, who was also killed ; and so 
with a third. The order had to go, and Bonaparte 
had only two aides with him — Eugene de Beauharnais 
and Lavalette. He beckoned to the latter to come 
forward, and said to him in a low voice, so that 
Eugene should not hear : " Lavalette, take this order. 
I don't want to send this boy, and have him killed 



240 CITIZEN ESS BONAPABTE. 



SO young; his mother has entrusted him to me. 
You know what life is. Go ! " 

Another day, also before Saint Jean d'Acre, a piece 
of shell struck Eugene de Beauharnais in the head: 
he fell, and lay for a long time under the ruins of a 
wall which the shell had knocked down. Bonaparte 
thought he was killed, and uttered a cry of grief. Eu- 
gene was only wounded, and at the end of nineteen 
days he asked leave to resume his post, in order to take 
part in the other assaults, which failed, like the first, 
in spite of Bonaparte's obstinacy. " This wretched 
hole," he said to Bourrienne, " has cost me a good deal 
of time and a great many men ; but things have gone 
too far ; I must try one last assault. If it succeeds, 
the treasury, the arms of Djezzar, whose fierceness all 
Syria curses, will enable me to arm three hundred 
thousand men. Damascus calls me ; the Druses are 
waiting for me ; I shall enlarge my army ; I shall an- 
nounce the abolition of the tyranny of the pashas, and 
shall reach Constantinople at the head of these masses. 
Then I shall overthrow the Turkish Empire, and 
found a new and great one ; I shall make my place for 
posterity, and then perhaps I shall return to Paris by 
Vienna, destroying the house of Austria." All this 
was but a dream. It was in vain that Bonaparte's 
obstinacy lashed itself into a fury. It was to no 
purpose that he stood on a redoubt, with arms 
crossed, his eye fixed, a target for all the guns of the 
town, and commanded a final effort. His army, be- 
ing destitute of artillery, had to -raise the siege and 



BONAPARTE IN EGYPT. 241 

return to Egypt. There was an end to the conquest 
of Asia Minor, the entrance into Constantinople, the 
attack on Europe in the rear, and a triumphal re- 
turn to France by the hanks of the Danube and Ger- 
many ! Bonaparte was not to be the Emperor of the 
East, and in speaking with vexation of the English 
commodore who defended Saint Jean d'Acre, he 
said : " That Sidney Smith made me miss my for- 
tune." But how skilfully he managed to conceal 
his failure, and to paint the Syrian expedition with 
brilliant colors 1 What cleverness in his proclama- 
tion of May 17, 1799 : " Soldiers, you have crossed 
the desert that separates Africa from Asia more 
swiftly than an Arab army. The army which was 
marching to invade Egypt is destroyed ; you have 
captured its general, its wagons, its supply of water, 
its camels. You have taken possession of all the 
strong places that defended the oases. You have 
scattered in the fields of Mount Tabor the swarms 
of men who had gathered from all parts of Asia, in 
the hope of pillaging Egypt. ... A few days more, 
and you hoped to take the Pasha himself in his 
palace ; but, at this season, the capture of the fortress 
of Acre is not worth the loss of a few days ; the 
brave men whom I should have had to lose there are 
now required for more important operations." 

In spite of great privations and of a heat of 107° F., 
the army took only twenty-five days, seventeen of 
which were spent in marching, to make the one hun- 
dred and nineteen leagues that separate Saint Jean 



242 CITIZENESS BONAPARTE. 

d'Acre from Cairo. Bonaparte re-entered this city 
like an ancient general on the day of his triumph. 
The procession resembled that of a conquering 
Pharaoh, with its Oriental magnificence, its music, 
and the applause. The captured enemy opened the 
march ; then came soldiers bearing the flags taken 
from the Turks. The French garrison of Cairo and 
the leading men of the city went as far as the suburb 
of Couble, to see the man whom the Arabs called 
Sultan Kebir, the Sultan of Fire. The Sheik el 
Bekri, a revered descendant of the Prophet, offered 
him a magnificent horse, with a saddle adorned with 
gold and pearls, and the young slave who held his 
bridle. This slave was Rustan, the Mameluke of the 
future Emperor. Other presents were also offered : 
slaves, white and black, superb arms, costly rings, 
dromedaries renowned for their speed, scent-boxes 
filled with incense and perfumes. Preceded by the 
Muftis and Ulemas of the mosque of Gama el Azhar, 
the hero of Mount Tabor, with all the majesty of a 
Sesostris, entered Cairo by the Gate of Victories, Bab 
el Nasr. 

A few days later the Turkish army, which had 
assembled at Rhodes, appeared, escorted by Sidney 
Smith's fleet, in sight of Alexandria, and anchored at 
Aboukir. The Turks landed, to the number of eigh- 
teen thousand. Bonaparte marched out to meet them, 
and, July 24, destroyed the entire army. That even- 
ing Kleber said, as he embraced him, "General, you 
are as great as the world ! " But the hour was draw- 



BONAPARTE IN EGYPT. 243 

ing nigh when the hero of Aboukir was about to 
return to France. Fate had robbed him of his Orien- 
tal glory ; his fortune was going to change the scene. 
He was to be neither an Alexander nor a Mahomet, 
but a Charlemagne. For six months he had received 
no news from France. He sent a flag of truce to the 
enemy's fleet to try to get some information under 
pretext of arranging an exchange of prisoners. Sid- 
ney Smith took a malign pleasure in communicating 
to Bonaparte a long list of disasters : the coalition 
victorious ; the natural boundaries of France aban- 
doned ; the Rhine recrossed ; Italy lost ; the fruits of 
so many efforts and so many victories destroyed. 
" Knowing General Bonaparte to be deprived of 
news," said the English commodore, " I hope to be 
agreeable to him in sending him a fresh batch of 
papers." Bonaparte received them in the night of 
August 3, and read them till morning with a mixture 
of curiosity and wrath. At that moment his plan 
was formed ; he determined to return to France, in 
spite of the vigilance of the English cruisers. A lack 
of water and an accident to one of the ships compelled 
the enemy to raise the blockade, and so favored his 
departure. Meanwhile he kept his secret to himself, 
went up the Nile to Cairo, stayed there six days, pre- 
tended to be summoned to an inspection in the prov- 
ince of Damietta, and returned mysteriously to the 
neigfhborhood of Alexandria. He made Rear- Admiral 
Gantheaume prepare two frigates, the Muiron and the 
Carriere^ and two despatch-boats, the Revanche and 



244 CITIZEN ESS BONAPARTE. 

the Fortune. It was between the arm of the Nile 
and Pharillon that he was to embark with a few com- 
panions, — Murat, Berthier, Eugene de Beauharnais, 
Bourrienne, and one or two others, — in the night of 
August 22. Sidney Smith did not even suspect so 
rash and unlikely a project. 

Prince Eugene, in his Memoirs, thus describes this 
departure, which reads like a bit of romance : " As 
we drew near Alexandria, I was sent down to the 
edge of the sea to ascertain if our preparations for 
departure had been observed. On my return, the 
General interrogated me somewhat anxiously, but his 
face was soon lit with satisfaction when I told him 
that I had seen two frigates, but that they seemed to 
carry the French flag. In fact, he had every reason 
to be satisfied, since he saw his plan successful ; for 
these two frigates were to carry us to France. He 
informed me of this at once, saying, ' Eugene, you 
are going to see your mother.' These words did not 
give me the joy I should have expected. We em- 
barked that very night, and I noticed that my com- 
panions shared my awkwardness and sadness. The 
mystery surrounding our departure, regret at leaving 
our brave companions, the fear of being captured by 
the English, and our faint hope of ever seeing France, 
may explain this feeling." 

Bonaparte alone had no doubts of a safe journey. 
A dead calm delayed the frigate in which he had 
just embarked. Gantheaume was discouraged, and 
proposed that he return to shore. " No," he answered 



BONAPARTE IN EGYPT. 245 

the admiral. " Don't be uneasy ; we shall get off." 
The next clay, August 23, at sunrise, the calm con- 
tinued, but at nine in the morning the wind rose, and 
Bonaparte, bidding Egypt an eternal farewell, put 
out to sea, sure that fortune would not betray him. 



XXV. 

THE PvETFEN FROM EGYPT. 

THE Egyptian campaign was of little service to 
France, but to Napoleon it was most useful. 
It gave strange, mysterious quality to his glory, and 
placed him on an equality with the men who most 
impress the popular imagination; with Alexander, 
Csesar, and Mahomet. Napoleon also had the gift of 
keeping his successes prominent, and letting his de- 
feats sink out of sight. When he returned from 
Syria, after a serious check, he made the authorities 
of Cairo receive him with as much distinction as if 
he had taken Saint Jean d'Acre. He effaced the 
memory of the naval defeat of Aboukir by winning 
on land a victory called by the same name. Egypt is 
remote ; the French at home noticed only the more 
brilliant points of the expedition, and all the failures 
sunk out of sight in a success which was thought to 
be decisive, though it was really only ephemeral. 

Bonaparte staked everything on one throw by leav- 
ing his army. If he had been captured by the Eng- 
lish cruisers, he would have been severely blamed by 
the public, and all their accusations would perhaps 

246 



THE RETURN FROM EGYPT. 247 

have crushed in the Qgg the imperial eagle, to use the 
poet's phrase. If great men would cease to be infat- 
uated about themselves and would honestly analyze 
their glory, they would see that they often owe more 
to chance than to skill; that they won when they 
ought to have lost, and lost when they should have 
gained ; and that the applause of the multitude 
accompanies success rather than merit. Of all Napo- 
leon's conceptions, the campaign in France was doubt- 
less the finest, but it was a failure. His Egyptian 
expedition, according to his greatest admirers, was 
badly planned, and yet it proved a stepping-stone to 
the throne. When men of strong character succeed, 
they explain their blunders which have turned out 
well by saying that they had confidence in their star, 
and never doubted the result. This fatalism has no 
real foundation. How many of these pretended stars 
vanish from the sky of politics ! These men are in 
fact gamblers who excuse their love of adventure with 
the first pretext that occurs to them, to atone for 
their audacity and impress the popular spirit. For 
our part, we have little faith in this sort of fatalism, 
of which the inventors are the first victims. 

The whole Egyptian campaign was made up of 
rashness and risks. It was only by a miracle that the 
invaders were able to arrive there without being scat- 
tered by the English fleet, against which they could 
have done nothing. Another miracle was Bonaparte's 
return to France without meeting the enemy's cruis- 
ers. Very often on this long and perilous voyage he 



248 CITIZEN ESS BONAPARTE. 

narrowly escaped capture. And what would his two 
frigates and two despatch-boats have done against 
the English fleet? The four old-fashioned Venetian 
crafts were slow sailers that would have been over- 
hauled in a few hours, and would have been power- 
less against the finest ships in the world. Bonaparte's 
only chance lay in not meeting the English ships, and 
they were active on the Egyptian coast, and, indeed^ 
throughout the Mediterranean. The wind at first 
drove the four vessels to the left of Alexandria, in 
sight of the Cyrenaic coast, a hundred leagues from 
Sidney Smith. Then they sailed to the northwest 
and were detained twenty-four days off that arid and 
uninhabited coast, where no one suspected their pres- 
ence. Bonaparte ordered Admiral Gantheaume to 
hug the African shore in order that he might tarry 
in case of an attack by the English, and then with a 
handful of men and the petty sum of seventeen thou- 
sand francs, which was the sole treasure he brought 
from Egypt, he would make his way to Tunis or 
Oran, and there again take shipping. SejDtember 15, 
the wind changed and blew fresh from the southwest, 
and they availed themselves of it. September 19, 
they were running between Cape Bon and Sicily, a 
dangerous place, because it was always full of English 
ships. Fortunately they arrived there at nightfall ; 
had they got there earlier, the enemy would have 
seen them ; later, it would have been too dark to risk 
pushing on. The four ships thus favored by fate 
continued on their way, and after seeing in the dark- 



THE BETUBN FROM EGYPT. 249 

ness the lights of an English cruiser, were out of 
sight at sunrise the next morning. A favorable wind 
brought them off Ajaccio. 

Was Corsica still in possession of the French? 
Bonaparte did not know ; and if he were to land 
there, he might be captured. He hesitated, and one 
of the despatch-boats hailed a fishing-smack and 
ascertained that Corsica still belonged to France. 
The fishermen could not say whether Provence was 
free or invaded by the Austrians, so Bonaparte de- 
cided to land in Corsica and find out the state of 
affairs. At that moment a ship sailed out of the 
harbor of Ajaccio ; when it heard that Bonaparte was 
so near, it saluted him with all its guns, and hastened 
back to carry the news to the people of the town. 
At once there was firing of cannon, and soldiers, 
citizens, workmen, and peasants hastened to the 
water's edge ; the sea was covered with boats that 
had put forth to meet the famous Corsican. 

In one of these boats was an old woman, dressed 
in black, who stretched out her arms to the great 
man, rapturously exclaiming, " Caro figiio ! " It was 
his nurse. Without stopping for quarantine, which 
was relaxed in his case, he landed and visited the 
house in which he was born ; and as if he Ave re al- 
ready a sovereign, he administered justice and freed 
prisoners. 

For the next few days contrary winds prevailed. 
For nine days Bonaparte was compelled to linger in 
Corsica, in continual fear lest the English should get 



250 CITIZEN ESS BONAPABTE. 

wind of his presence. At last, October 7, the wind 
was fair, and he decided to sail for the coast of 
Provence, in spite of every obstacle ; so they heaved 
and set forth, the Muiron being towed to sea by a 
boatful of sturdy rowers. 

Bonaparte must have had his fill of strong emotions. 
The nearer he came to port, the more his danger grew. 
In a few hours, in a few minutes, he might be in the 
hands of the English ; everything depended on the 
wind. Once on French soil, nothing could mar his 
future ; but if he should fail to reach it, — if after 
abandoning his army in Egypt he should be captured 
by the English, — what would not his enemies say 
about his wild adventure ? On one side ridicule, on 
the other omnipotence ; to be branded as an adven- 
turer, or to be glorified as a hero. This hardy gam- 
bler, who was forever playing at high stakes with 
fate, and so far had always won, liked these extreme 
crises, which fed his ardent imagination and fearless 
nature. During the whole day, October 7, they 
sailed along smoothly; alread}^ Bonaparte and his 
companions could see the mountains of Provence, 
and were congratulating themselves on landing in a 
few hours, when suddenly a lookout called down 
from aloft that he saw many sails, six leagues off, 
lit up by the sunset. Evidently they were the 
enemy's ships ; and they all thought themselves lost. 
Gantheaume declared that Bonaparte's only chance 
was to jump into the boat that was towing the Mui- 
ron and to return to Ajaccio ; but he quickly an- 



THE RETURN FROM EGYPT. 251 

swerecl the admiral : " Do yon think I conld consent 
to run away like a criminal when fortune deserts me ? 
I am not destined to be captured and killed here. 
. . . Your advice might be of use as a last resource, 
after exchanging a few shots, when there is absolutely 
no other means of escaping." It was his fatalism 
that gave the hero of the Pyramids this imperturba- 
bility, and his instinct did not deceive him. Sud- 
denly he restored confidence to the whole crew ; he 
bade them notice that it was the sunset that lit up 
the enemy's ships on the horizon, and that it left 
Muiron and the Carriere in darkness. "We see 
them, and they don't see us ; so take courage ! " 
Does it not seem as if the winds obeyed him and 
blew as he commanded, and that the sun, too, obeyed 
him when it lit up the English fleet and hid in dark- 
ness the ship that bore the future Csesar? "Away 
with fears and cowardly counsels ! Crowd on sail ! " 
shouted Bonaparte. " All hands aloft ! Head north- 
west ! " The whole crew recovered confidence. They 
made for the nearest anchorage, and the next morn- 
ing, October 9, at nine o'clock, entered the bay of 
Saint Raphael, eight hundred metres from the village 
of that name, and half a league from Frejus, after a 
voyage of forty-four days. 

Was Bonaj^arte going to submit to the quarantine ? 
He pretended that he was, but it was only a feint. 
The quarantine station was about a half a mile 
from Frejus. An officer of the Muiron went ashore in 
a small boat to announce Bonaparte's arrival, and 



252 CITIZEN ESS BONAPARTE. 

his intention to go into quarantine ; but no sooner 
was the officer seen, than the wildest excitement 
broke out on the shore, which was soon covered with 
a dense throng. The people of Frejus hastened into 
their boats, crying, " Long live Bonaparte ! " and 
sailed out to the frigate on which he was. '' No 
quarantine for you!" they shouted. "We had rather 
have the plague than the Austrians ! No quarantine 
for our protector, for the hero who has come to de- 
fend Provence." Bonaparte went ashore, and a 
white horse was brought to him ; he got on its back, 
and entered Frejus amid the cheers of the populace. 
He stayed there only four hours, and then pushed 
on, enjoying one long triumph. At Aix, at Avignon, 
at Valence, he was received with indescribable en- 
thusiasm. At Lyons he spent a day. A huge crowd 
gathered under his windows, calling upon him to 
show himself. In the evening he went to the theatre, 
and hid in the back of the box, making Duroc sit in 
front. " Bonaparte, Bonaparte ! " shouted the excited 
audience, and so hotly, that he was forced to show 
himself : at the moment he appeared the wildest 
applause broke out. At midnight he started again, 
and instead of going through Macon, as was expected, 
he took the road by the Bourbonnais, in a post-chaise 
which pushed on swiftly night and day. 

Paris had already received word by the telegraph 
of his landing. Within a fortnight information had 
been received of Massena's victory in Switzerland ; of 
Brune's in Holland ; of Bonaparte's at Aboukir, and 



THE BETUBN FROM EGYPT. 253 

of his arrival in France, and the joy universal. The 
bells were rung in every town and village through 
which he passed. At night bonfires were lit along 
the road. In the Paris theatres the actors announced 
the good news from the stage, and the plays were 
interrupted by cries and cheers and patriotic songs. 
In the Council of the Ancients, Lucien Bonaparte, 
though the youngest member, was elected President. 
When the news came that the hero of the Pyramids 
was returning, there were Republicans and patriots 
who were beside themselves with pleasure. It was 
when dining at the Luxembourg with Gohier, the 
President of the Directory, October 10, that Jo- 
sephine heard that her husband had landed. She 
noticed that the news caused her host more surprise 
than pleasure. "Mr. President," she said, "do not 
be afraid that Bonaparte is coming with any inten- 
tions unfavorable to liberty. But you must unite to 
prevent his falling into bad company. I shall go 
to meet him. I must not on any account let any of 
his brothers, who hate me, see him first. Besides," 
she added, turning a look to Gohier's wife, "I need 
not fear calumny, when Bonaparte hears that you 
have been my most intimate friend; and he will be 
both pleased and grateful when he hears how well I 
have been treated here during his absence." Thus 
reassuring herself, Josephine at once left Paris to 
meet her husband ; but since she took the road 
through Burgundy, and he the one through the 
Bourbonnais, she failed to meet him on the way, and 
he was back in Paris first. 



XXVI. 

THE MEETING OF BONAPARTE AND JOSEPHINE. 

BONAPARTE arrived in Paris the morning of 
the 24th Vendemiaire, Year VIII. (October 16, 
1799). He went at once to his house in the rue de 
la Victoire, and alone, as he did after his return 
from Italy. But then he knew that he would not 
find Josephine there, whereas now he felt sure that 
she would be there. The empty house filled him 
with bitterness. Where was his wife ? Was she 
guilty, and did she dread to meet her enraged hus- 
band? Was everything that had been said about 
her true ? Bonaparte's suspicious heart was full of 
wrath. His brothers, who were extremely hostile to 
Josephine, less from zeal for morality than from envy 
of her influence, skilfully fed this feeling of jealousy 
and anger. Bonaparte, who was deepl}^ distressed 
already, began to think of separation and divorce. 
His old love, rekindled by his annoyance and fury, 
tortured him again. For a moment, he forgot the 
supreme power he was about to grasp, and thought 
only of his conjugal infelicity. 

Josephine, too, was uneasy. She had tried to meet 
her husband to anticipate the accusations that would 

254 



BONAPARTE AND JOSEPHINE. 255 

be made against lier. Confident of the power of her 
beauty, she had said to herself: "Let me be the first 
to see him, and he will fall into my arms." But she 
had not been able to meet him on the way; and he 
when he arrived had found a solitude. What must 
he have thought in the empty rooms ? He had been 
there two days when Josephine reached Paris. She 
trembled with anxiety. What was going to happen ? 
Was she to see a lover's or a judge's face confronting 
her? Was she to meet the Bonaparte of other days, 
so loving and affectionate, or a Bonaparte angry, 
black, and terrible ? It was a cruel uncertainty, full 
of anguish. Poor woman ! She was full of joy and 
of uneasiness, uncertain whether she was to find 
happiness or misery. Swiftly she ascended the little 
staircase leading to her husband's room, but, to her 
grief, the door was locked. She knocked; it was 
not opened. She knocked again, and called, and 
begged. He, protected by the bolts, answered 
from within that the door would never again be 
opened for her. Then she fell on her knees and 
wept. The whole house was filled with her sobs. 
She prayed and implored, but in vain. The night 
wore on ; she remained at the threshold of the for- 
bidden room, which was a sort of paradise lost. She 
did not lose all hope ; her entreaties and tears did 
not cease. Are not tears a woman's last argument? 
Were not those tears to be dried by kisses? She 
could not believe that after having been so much 
adored, she would not be able to regain her empire. 



256 CITIZEN ESS BONAPARTE. 

Bonaparte might resist her voice when he could not 
see her face, hut he would not resist her tearful 
smile. When she seemed in the deepest despair, 
Josephine still hoped, and with reason. 

Yet she had long to wait ; Bonaparte was so inflex- 
ible that at one moment she thought of ceasing the 
struggle. She was about to withdraw, exhausted by 
fatigue and emotion, when it occurred to one of her 
women to say to her, " Send for your son and 
daughter." She followed this wise advice. Eugene 
and Hortense came, and added their entreaties to 
Josephine's. '' I beg of you. . . . Do not abandon our 
mother. ... It will kill her. And we, poor orphans, 
whose father perished on the scaffold, shall we also 
lose him whom Providence put in his place ? " 

Bonaparte at last consented to open his door. His 
face was still severe ; he uttered reproaches, and 
Josephine trembled. Turning to Eugene he said, 
" As for you, you shall not suffer for your mother's 
misdeeds; I shall keep you with me." "No, Gen- 
eral," answered the young man ; " I bid you farewell 
on the spot." Bonaparte began to yield ; he pressed 
Eugene to his heart, and seeing both Josephine and 
Hortense on their knees, he forgave, and with eyes 
bright with joy, let himself be convinced by Jose- 
phine's arguments. The reconciliation was complete. 
At seven in the morning he sent for his brother 
Lucien, who had brought the charges, and when 
Lucien entered the room, he found the husband and 
wife reconciled and lying in the same bed. 



BONAPARTE AND JOSEPHINE. 257 

Bonaparte did wisely in thus making a reconcilia- 
tion with his wife. A separation would have been 
a choice bit of scandal for the ill-disposed Royalists 
to turn to their profit. Bonaparte was not yet a 
Csesar ; his wife might be suspected. Besides, accord- 
ing to the tenets of society under the Directory, sus- 
picions of that sort were not fatal to a fasliionable 
woman, and public opinion had more serious ques- 
tions to consider, than whether Citizeness Bonaparte 
had been, or had not been, faithful to her husband. 
The hero of the Pyramids did the best thing possible 
when he thus put an end to the not wholly disin- 
terested accusations of his brothers, and turned his 
attention to more serious matters than the recrimina- 
tions of a husband who, rightly or wrongly, thought 
himself deceived. Josephine was once more to fur- 
ther her husband's plans. She was bright, tactful, 
and perfectly familiar with Parisian society and the 
political world. Knowing all about everything, she 
\yas about to play, with consummate skill, her part 
in preparing for the coup d'etat of Brumaire. 

As soon as he arrived, Bonaparte became conscious 
of the distrust of the Directory. The very first day 
he went to the Luxembourg with Monge, a friend of 
Gohier, the President of the Directory. " How glad 
I am, my dear President," said Monge, ''to find the 
Republic triumphant I" "I too am very glad," said 
Bonaparte, in some embarrassment. " The news we 
received in Egypt was so alarming, that I did not 
hesitate to leave my army to come to share its perils." 



258 CITIZEN ESS BONAPARTE. 

" General," answered Goliier, " they were great, but 
we have made a happ}^ issue. You have come just 
in time to celebrate the glorious victories of your 
companions-in-arms." The next day, the 25th Yen- 
demiaire, Bonaparte made another visit to the Direc- 
tory. " Citizen Directors," he exclaimed, touching the 
handle of his sword, " I swear that this sword shall 
never be drawn except in defence of the Republic 
and of its government." Gohier replied : '• General, 
your presence revives in every Frenchman's heart the 
glorious feeling of liberty. It is with shouts of 
'Long live the Republic!' that Bonaparte ought to 
be received." The ceremony terminated with the 
fraternal embrace, but it was neither given nor re- 
ceived in a spirit of brotherly love. 

The moment of the crisis drew near. Where was 
Bonaparte to find support? Among the zealous 
revolutionists, or on the side of the moderate ? The 
head of the moderate party was one of the Directors, 
— Siey^s. For this former abbe he had an instinctive 
repulsion; but on reflection he felt that he needed 
him, and he decided to make use of him. Moreau, 
who had won celebrity by his victories, might be his 
rival ; he conciliated him. Gohier has described their 
interview. He had invited to dinner Bonaparte, 
Josephine, and Sieyes. When Josephine saw the 
last-named in the drawing-room, "What have you 
done ? " she asked Gohier ; " Sieyes is the man whom 
Bonaparte detests more than any one. He can't 
endure him." In fact, during the whole dinner, 



BONAPAitTE AND JOSEPHINE. 259 

Bonaparte did not once speak to Siey^s ; lie even pre- 
tended not to see him. Siey^s was furious when he 
rose from the table. " Did you notice," he asked his 
host, " how the insolent fellow treated a member of 
the board which ought to have ordered him to be 
shot?" 

After dinner Moreau arrived. It was the first time 
the two distinguished generals had met, and each 
seemed delighted to see the other. It was Bonaparte 
who made all the advances. A few days later he 
gave to Moreau, as a token of friendship, a sabre set 
with diamonds, and on the 18th Brumaire he was 
able to persuade him to be the jailer of the Directors 
who would not aid the coup d^etat. 

Madame Bonaparte was always of service to her 
husband in his relations with the men of whom he 
wanted to make use. She fascinated every one who 
came near her, by her exquisite grace and charming 
courtesy. All the brusqueness and violence of Bona- 
parte's manners were tempered by the soothing and 
insinuating gentleness of his amiable and kindly 
wife. She was to exercise direct influence on the 
victims and accomplices of the coup d^etat^ — on Bar- 
ras, Gohier, Siey^s, Fouch^, Moreau, and Talleyrand. 
Who knows? Without Josephine's skill and tact, 
Bonaparte might, perhaps, have made a failure, have 
broken prematurely with Barras, have thrown off the 
mask too soon, before he had had time to make a for- 
midable plot. The 8th Brumaire (October 30), when 
dining with Barras, he had great difficulty in re- 



260 CITIZENESS BONAPABTE. 

straining himself. Barras played the same game that 
he did, and spoke of his unselfishness, his fatigue, his 
shattered health, his need of rest, and said that he 
must resign and have a wholly unknown person, 
General Hedouville, put at the head of the govern- 
ment. Bonaparte was on the point of breaking out. 
He left Barras's rooms in a rage, and before going 
from the Luxembourg, went into those of Sieyes. 
" It's with you, and with you alone, that I mean to 
march," he said, and it was agreed to have everything 
ready for the 18th or 20th Brumaire. 

Meanwhile Bonaparte became more crafty than 
ever. He said he was tired of men and things, that 
he was ill and quite upset by changing a dry climate 
for a damp one ; he posed for a Cincinnatus anxious 
to return to the plough, and kept out of the eyes of 
the public, arousing its curiosity the less he gratified 
it. If he went to the theatre, it was without giving 
notice, and he took a close box. He dressed more 
simply than usual. Instead of a full uniform or 
epaulettes, he wore the gray overcoat which was 
destined to become a subject of legend. He affected 
to prefer to anything else scientific or literary con- 
versation with his colleagues of the Institute. The 
austere Gohier, who was naturally credulous, and, 
besides, deceived by Josephine, refused to believe in 
any lawless plans on the part of such a man. Him- 
self a patriot and a Republican, he imagined that 
every one agreed with him regarding the Constitu- 
tion of the Year III. a3 the holy ark. All this time 



BONAPARTE AND JOSEPHINE. 261 

he was weaving his political plans afe if he were form- 
ing a plan for a battle. Every party regarded him as 
its mainstay, and every party was mistaken. Bona- 
parte meant to make use of one of them, perhaps of 
all, but not to be of service to any one of them. As 
he said afterivards to Madame de Remusat, in talking 
about this period of his career : " The Directory was 
not uneasy at my return ; I was extremely on my 
guard, and never in my life have I displayed more 
skill. I saw the Abbe Siey^s, and promised him the 
carrying out of his long-winded constitution; I re- 
ceived the leaders of the Jacobins, the agents of the 
Bourbons ; I gave my advice to every one, but I only 
gave what would further my plans. I kept aloof 
from the populace because I knew that it was time ; 
curiosity would make every one dog my steps. Every 
one ran into my traps, and when I became the head 
of the State, there was not a party in France that did 
not base its hopes on my success." 

The hour was approaching when there was to be 
realized the wish, the prediction, which Suleau had 
made in 1792, in the ninth number of his paper which 
he published among Condi's soldiers at Coblentz. " I 
repeat it calmly that the tutelary deity whom I in- 
voke for my country is a despot, provided that he be 
a man of genius. It is the absolute inflexibility of a 
Richelieu that I demand ; a man like that needs only 
territory and force to create an empire. France can 
be made a nation again only after it has been bowed in 
silence beneath the iron rule of a severe and relentless 



262 CITIZENESS BONAPARTE. 

master. When I call on despotism to come to the aid 
of my unhappy country, I mean the union of powers 
in the hands of an imperious master, of a cruel 
capacity, jealous of rule, and utterly absolute. I 
demand a magnanimous usurper who knows how, by 
means of the haughty and brilliant spirit of a Crom- 
well, to make a people admired and respected, whom 
he compels to respect and bless their subjection." 
This issue was about to appear. The long plot 
framed by the reaction since 1795 was finished. 



XXVII. 

THE PROLOGUE OF THE 18TH BEUMAIRE. 

A FEW days before the 18th Brumaire, Bona- 
parte happened to be at the estate of his brother 
Joseph, at Mortefontaine. Being anxious for a free dis- 
cussion with Regnault de Saint Jean d' Ang^ly, of the 
events that were preparing, he proposed to him that 
they should take a ride together. As the two men 
were galloping wildly by the ponds, over the rocks, 
Bonaparte's horse stumbled on a stone hidden in the 
sand and threw the general off with some violence 
to a distance of twelve or fifteen feet. Regnault 
sprang from his horse and ran up to him, finding him 
senseless : his pulse was imperceptible ; he did not 
breathe ; he thought him dead. It was a false alarm. 
In a few minutes Bonaparte came to himself, with no 
bones broken, no scratch, no bruise, and mounted his 
horse. "Oh, General," exclaimed his companion, 
" what a fright you gave me I " and Bonaparte said, 
" That was a little stone on which all our plans came 
near shattering." It was true ; that pebble might 
have changed the fate of the world. 

The conspiracy was organized, and the end was ap- 

263 



264 CITIZEN ESS BONAPARTE. 

preaching. Bonaparte, wlio was a conspirator as well 
as a soldier, prepared it with thoroughly Italian sub- 
tlety and wiliness. With consummate skill he antici- 
pated public opinions, while pretending aversion to 
the coup d'etat which was his heart's desire. For 
several days the officers in Paris had been trying to 
get an opportunity to present their respects, but he 
had not consented to see them. The officers com- 
plained, and the public began to say, " He won't do 
any more than he did after his return from Italy. 
Who will help us out of the mire ? " To the end he 
haunted Republican society. Josephine and he were 
untiring in their attentions to Gohier and his wife. 
At the same time he understood how to call up memo- 
ries of the Terror, to impress men's imaginations, and 
to evoke the red spectre which always made the blood 
of the middle classes run cold. 

As Edgar Quinet has put it, the 18th Brumaire 
was to be a union of fear and glory. Every one was 
anxious and in terror of worse things yet, — of riots, 
proscriptions, the guillotine, — and sure that no one 
but Bonaparte could prevent the return of 1793. He 
was entreated to take some step, and when he com- 
plied, he seemed to be yielding to popular clamor. 
The coup iVetat was in the air. Everywhere Bona- 
parte found allies and accomplices. To secure gen- 
eral approval only one thing was wanted, — success. 

The 15th Brumaire (the final plan of the conspi- 
racy was to be determined on that day), Bonaparte 
was present at a subscription dinner given him by 



THE PROLOGUE OF THE ISTH BRUMAIEE. 265 

five or six hundred members of the two Councils. 
" Never at a civic banquet," says Gohier in his Me- 
moirs, " was there less expression given to Republican 
sentiments." There was no gaiety, no mutual con- 
gratulations. The dinner was given in the Temple 
of Victory, otherwise known as the Church of Saint 
Sulpice. It seemed as if no one dared to speak 
aloud in the sanctuary, and as if every one were op- 
pressed by some gloomy foreboding. Every one was 
watching and knowing that he was watched. Bona- 
parte, who sat at the right hand of Gohier, the Presi- 
dent of the Directory, appeared out of spirits and 
ill at ease. He partook of nothing but bread and 
wine brought to him by his aide-de-camp. Was he 
afraid of poison? The official toasts, proposed with- 
out enthusiasm, were drunk coolly. Bonaparte did 
not even stay till the end of the dinner ; he sud- 
denly rose from the table, walked about, uttering 
a few hasty words to the principal guests, and went 
away. 

Arnault describes that evening at the general's 
house. Josephine did the honors of her drawing-room 
with even more than her usual grace. Men of all 
parties were gathered there, — generals, deputies. 
Royalists, Jacobins, abbes, a minister, and even the 
President of the Directory. From the lordly air of 
the master of the house, it seemed as if already he 
felt himself to be a monarch surrounded by his court. 
Minister Fouche arrived and sat down on the sofa by 
Madame Bonaparte's side. 



266 CITIZENESS BONAPARTE. 

" G-ohier. What's the news, Citizen Minister ? 

" Fouche. The news ? Oh ! nothing. 

" G-ohier. But besides that? 

" Fouche. Always the same idle rumors. 

'' Gohier. What? 

" Fouche. The same old conspiracy. 

" Gohier (^shrugging his shoulders^. The conspiracy! 

'^ Fouche. Yes, the conspiracy! But I know how 
to treat that. I thoroughly understand it, Citizen 
Director ; have confidence in me ; I am not going to 
be caught. If there had been a conspiracy all the 
time it's been talked of, would there not be some 
signs of it in the Place de la Revolution or in the 
plain of Crenelle ? [At these words Fouche burst 
out laughing.] 

" Madame Bonaparte. For shame. Citizen Fouche ! 
Can you laugh at such things ? 

" Gohier. The Minister speaks like a man who 
understands his business. But calm yourself, Citi- 
zeness ; to talk about such things before ladies is to 
think they will not have to be done. Act like the 
government; do not be uneasy at those rumors. 
Sleep quietly." 

Bonaparte listened with a smile. 

The evening passed as usual ; there was no excite- 
ment, no uneasiness on any one's face. Her draw- 
ing-room gradually emptied. Fouche and Gohier 
took leave of Josephine, who withdrew to her own 
room. Arnault stayed to the last and had this con- 
versation with Bonaparte. 



THE PROLOGUE OF THE IS Til BRUM AIRE. 267 

" General, I have come to know if to-morrow is 
still the day, and to get your instructions." 

"It'sputoff till the 18th." 

"Till the 18th?" 

" The 18th." 

" When it has got out ? Don't you notice how 
every one is talking about it ? " 

" Everybody is talking about it, but no one believes 
in it. Besides, there is a reason. Those imbeciles 
of the Council of the Ancients have scruples. They 
have begged for twenty-four hours for reflection ! " 

" And you have granted them ? " 

" What's the harm ? I give them time to convince 
themselves that I can do without them what I wish 
to do with them. To the 18th, then. Come in and 
drink a cup of tea to-morrow ; if there is any change, 
I'll let you know. Good night." 

Two days were not too many for the final prepa- 
rations. " Josephine was in the secret," says Gen- 
eral de Sdgur. "Nothing was concealed from her. 
In every conference at which she was present her 
discretion, her gentleness, her grace, and the ready 
ingenuity of her delicate and cool intelligence were 
of great service. She justified Bonaparte's renewed 
confidence in her." 

The 16th and 17th, Bonaparte and his adherents 
completed the elaboration of their programme, which 
was simple and ingenious. A provision of the Con- 
stitution, that of the Year III., authorized the Coun- 
cil of Ancients, in case of peril for the Republic, to 



268 CITIZENESS BONAPARTE. 



convoke the Legislative Body (the Council of An- 
cients and the Council of Five Hundred) outside of 
the capital, to preserve it from the influence of the 
multitude, and to choose a general to command the 
troops destined to defend the legislature. The Con- 
stitution also provided that from the moment when 
this change of the place of meeting was voted by the 
Council of Ancients, all discussion on the part of 
the two councils was forbidden until the change was 
made. This was the corner-stone on which the con- 
spiracy was to build. The alleged public peril was 
a" so-called Jacobin conspiracy, which, according to 
Bonaparte's partisans, threatened the Legislative 
Body. The 18th Brumaire was set for the day when 
the Council of Ancients should vote to change the 
place of meeting to Saint Cloud, and BonajDarte 
should be assigned the command of the troops. The 
Council was to be convoked at the Tuileries, where 
it always met, at eight in the morning; some one 
should take the floor and enlarge on the perils of the 
so-called Jacobin plot, and, the vote to change the 
place of meeting once carried, the Council of Five 
Hundred, which did not meet till eleven, would have 
to submit in silence. 

But how, collect the troops about Bonaparte in the 
morning before the vote was taken? and to succeed, 
he needed their presence at the very beginning. 

The 17th Division, with its headquarters in Paris, 
was not under his orders. He was not Minister of 
War, and had no command. How was it possible, 



THE PBOLOGUE OF THE ISTH BEUMAIBE. 269 

without exciting suspicion, to assemble, under the 
very eyes of the government, the forces that were 
about to overthrow it? What pretext could be de- 
vised for gathering a staff in the house in the rue de 
la Yictoire, and regiments about the Tuileries ? For 
many days the officers of the Army of Paris and the 
National Guard had been desirous of presenting their 
respects to General Bonaparte. It was decided that 
he should receive them at his house, at six in the 
morning, the 18tli Brumaire ; and this untimely hour 
was accounted for by a journey on which it was 
pretended that the general was about to depart. 
Three regiments of cavalry had sought the honor of 
riding by him. Word was sent that he would receive 
them at seven o'clock in the morning of the same 
day. To go from the rue de la Yictoire to the 
Tuileries he needed a cavalry escort ; word was sent 
to one of his most devoted adherents, a Corsican, 
Colonel S^bastiani, who was invited to be on horse- 
back at five in the morning, with two hundred dra- 
goons of his regiment, the 9th. Sebastiani, without 
waiting for orders from his superiors, at once accepted 
this mission. With a brilliant staff of generals and 
mounted officers, preceded and followed by an escort 
of dragoons, Bonaparte would ride in the morning to 
the Tuileries at the very moment that the change of 
the place of meeting should have been voted by the 
Council of Ancients ; he would receive command of 
the garrison of Paris and its suburbs, and be ordered 
to protect the two Councils, who should sit the next 



270 CITIZENESS BONAPAETE. 



day, the 19th, at Saint Cloud. In the course of the 
18th Barras would be persuaded to hand m his res- 
ignation. This, following close on the heels of the 
resignation of Siey^s and Roger-Ducos, would dis- 
organize the Directory, which, consisting of but two 
members, Moulins and Gohier, would be kept under 
guard at the Luxembourg by General Moreau, and 
would give way to a new government, which had its 
constitution all ready, with l^apoleon for its head. It 
was hoped that the Council of Five Hundred would 
not oppose their plans, and that the revolution, which 
assumed an appearance of legality, would be accom- 
plished without violence. In any case, Bonaparte 
would go on to the end. If the Five Hundred re- 
fused their approval, he resolved to proceed without 
it. The snares were set. The legislature was to 
fall into them. Every preparation had been made. 
The conspirators bade one another farewell till the 
morrow. 



XXVIIT. 



THE 18TH BRUMAIEE. 



AT five in the morning, Sebastiani, the colonel 
of the 9th Dragoons, had occupied the garden 
of the Tuileries and the Place de la Revolution with 
eight hundred men. He himself had taken a place 
with two hundred mounted dragoons before Bona- 
parte's house in the rue de la Victoire. At six, 
arrived Lefebvre, the commander of the military 
division. Orders had been sent to different regi- 
ments without saying anything to him, and he was 
surprised to see S^bastiani's dragoons, but Bonaparte 
was in no way disconcerted. " Here," he said, " is 
the Turkish sabre which I carried at the battle of the 
Pyramids. Do you, who are one of the most valiant 
defenders of the country, accept it ? Will you let our 
country perish in the hands of the pettifoggers who 
are ruining it? " Lefebvre, wild with joy, exclaimed, 
" If that's what's up, I am ready. We must throw 
those pettifoggers into the river at once." The house 
and garden were speedily filled with officers in full 
uniform. Only one was in citizen's dress ; it was 
Bernadotte. Resisting Bonaparte's offers, he said, 

271 



272 CITIZENESS BONAPARTE. 

" No ! no ! you will fail. I am going away where 
perhaps I shall be able to save you." 

Eight o'clock struck ; a woman entered ; it was 
Madame Gohier, wife of the President of the Direc- 
tory. The evening before, her husband had received 
this note, brought by Eugene de Beauharnais : — 

" 17th Brumaire, Year VIII. 

"My Dear Gohier: Won't you and your wife 

breakfast with us to-morrow at eight. Do not fail 

us ; there are a good many interesting things I should 

like to talk to you about. Good by, my dear Gohier. 

" Believe me always 

" Sincerely yours, 

" La Pageeie-Bonapaete." 

The early hour aroused Gohier's suspicions. He 
told his wife : " You will go ; but you must tell 
Madame Bonaparte that I can't accept her invita- 
tion, but that I shall have the honor of seeing her 
in the course of the morning." 

When Bonaparte saw Madame Gohier arrive alone, 
he frowned. 

" What ! " he exclaimed, " isn't the President com- 
ing?" 

" No, General, he couldn't possibly come." 

" But he must come. Write him a line, Madame, 
and I will see that the note is sent." 

" I will write to him. General, but I have servants 
here who will take charge of the letter." 



THE ISTH BRUMAIRE. 278 

Madame Goliier took a pen and wrote to her hus- 
band as follows : — 

" You did well not to come, my dear : everything 
convinces me that the invitation was a snare. I shall 
come to you as soon as possible.'' 

When Madame Gohier had sent this note, Madame 
Bonaparte came to her, and said : " Everything you 
see must indicate to you, Madame, what has got to 
happen. I can't tell you how sorry I am that Gohier 
did not accept the invitation which I had planned 
with Bonaparte, who wants the President of the 
Directory to be one of the members of the govern- 
ment which he proposes to establish. By sending 
my son with the note, I thought that I indicated the 
importance I attached to it." 

" I am going to join him, Madame; my presence is 
superfluous here." 

" I shall not detain you. When you see your hus- 
band, bid him reflect, and do you yourself reflect on 
the wish I have been authorized to express to you. . . . 
Use all your influence, I beg of you, to induce him to 
come." 

Madame jGrohier returned to the Luxembourg, leav- 
ing Bonaparte amid the officers of all grades who 
were to help him in the coup cCetat. 

What was going on at the Tuileries meanwhile? 
The Council of Ancients met at eight o'clock. Cor- 
net took the floor, and began to speak about con- 
spiracy, daggers. Terrorists. "If the Council of 
Ancients does not protect the country and liberty 



274 CITIZENESS BONAPARTE. 

from the greatest dangers that have ever threatened 
it, the fire will spread. ... It will be impossible to 
stop its devouring progress. The country will be 
consumed. . . . Representatives of the people, ward 
off this dreadful conflagration, or the Republic will 
cease to exist, and its skeleton will be in the talons 
of vultures who will dispute its fleshless limbs ! " 

This declamatory outburst produced a distinct 
effect. The Council of Ancients, in accordance with 
articles of the Constitution authorizing, in case of 
public peril, a change in the place of meeting of the 
Legislative Body, passed the following votes : — 

"Article 1. The Legislative Body is transferred to 
the Commune of Saint Cloud; the two Councils will 
sit there in the two wings of the palace. 

"Article 2. They will meet there at noon to- 
morrow, the 19th Brumaire. All official acts and 
deliberations are forbidden at any place, before that 
hour. 

"Article 3. General Bonaparte is charged with 
the execution of this decree. . . . The general com- 
manding the 17th military division, the Guard of the 
Legislative Body, the stationary National Guard, the 
troops of the line now in the Commune of Paris, are 
hereby placed under his orders. 

"Article 4. General Bonaparte is summoned to 
the Council to receive a copy of this decree and to 
take oath accordingly." 

Scarcely had the vote been taken when Cornet has- 
tened off to tell Bonaparte in the rue de la Yictoire. 



THE ISTH BRUM AIRE. 275 



It was about nine o'clock. The general was address- 
ing his officers from the steps of his house, ''The 
Republic is in danger; we must come to its aid." 
After he had read the vote of the Ancients, he 
shouted, " Can I depend on you to save the Repub- 
lic ? " Cheers were their answer. Then he got on 
his horse, and, followed by a brilliant escort, among 
whom Avere noticed Moreau, Macdonald, Lefebvre, 
Berthier, Lannes, Beurnonville, Marmont, Murat, he 
rode to the Tuileries. Sebastiani's dragoons opened 
and closed the way. 

There were but few people about the Tuileries, for 
most had no idea of what was going to happen. The 
gates of the garden, which was full of troops, were 
closed. The weather was very fine ; the sun lit up 
the helmets and bayonets. Bonaparte rode through 
the garden, and, alighting in front of the Pavilion 
of the Clock, appeared before the Council of An- 
cients, the door being opened to him. 

" Citizen Representatives," he said, " the Republic 
was about to perish ; your vote has saved it ! Woe to 
those who dare to oppose its execution ! Aided by 
my comrades, I shall know how to resist their efforts. 
It is vain that precedents are sought in the past to dis- 
turb your minds. There is in all history nothing like 
the eighteenth century, and nothing in the century is 
like its end. We desire the Republic ; we desire it 
founded on true liberty, on the representative system. 
We shall have it ; I swear this in my own name and 
in that of my fellow-soldiers." 



276 CITIZENESS BONAPARTE. 

Only one deputy observed that in this oath no 
mention was made of the Constitution. The Presi- 
dent, wishing- to spare Bonaparte too open perjury, 
silenced him and closed the meeting. 

Bonaparte went down into the garden again and 
reviewed the troops, who cheered him warmly. 

It was eleven o'clock, the hour set for the meeting 
of the Council of Five Hundred. The Deputies heard 
with indignation the vote of the Ancients, but their 
President, Lucien Bonaparte, silenced them. The 
Constitution was imperative ; all discussion was for- 
bidden. They had nothing to do but to agree to 
meet at Saint Cloud the next day. 

Of the five Directors, two, Siey^s and Roger-Ducos, 
had already handed in their resignations ; the third, 
Barras, at the request of Bruix and Talleyrand, had 
just followed their examjple, and had started for his 
estate, Grosbois ; the other two, Gohier and Moulins, 
made one final effort. They went to the Tuileries, 
and found Bonaparte in the hall of the Inspectors of 
the Council of Ancients. After a lively altercation, 
they returned to the Luxembourg, having accom- 
plished nothing. 

A few moments before, Bonaparte had spoken thus 
to Bottot, Barras's secretary : " What have you done 
with this France that I left so full of glory ? I left 
peace ; I find war ! I left you victorious ; I find you 
in defeat ! I left you the millions of Italy ; I find 
everywhere ruinous laws and misery ! . . . What 
have you done with the hundred thousand Frenchmen 



THE 18TH BBUMAIBE. 277 

whom I knew, the companions of my glory ? They 
are dead ! This state of things cannot last. In three 
years it would lead to despotism." 

In her Considerations on the French Revolution^ 
Madame de Stael says : " Bonaparte worked to make 
his predictions true. Would it not be a great lesson 
for the human race, if these Directors were to rise 
from their graves and demand of Napoleon an account 
for the boundary of the Rhine and the Alps which the 
Republic had conquered, an account for the foreigner 
who twice entered Paris, and for the Frenchmen who 
perished from Cadiz to Moscow ? " 

But who on the 18th Bi-umaire could predict these 
future disasters ? Bonaparte's soldiers imagined them- 
selves forever invincible. The military spirit was 
triumphant. No more red caps, but the grenadiers' 
hats ; no more pikes, but bayonets. The Jacobins had 
lived their day. The furious diatribes of the Club 
du Manege called forth no echo. The terrible San- 
terre was a mere harmless brewer. The faubourgs had 
groAvn calm. The roll of the drum had silenced the 
voice of the tribunes. Even the men of the old 
regime were fascinated by the career of arms. This 
is what a young aristocrat said, who was one day to 
be General de Segur, the historian of the exploits of 
the grand army : — 

"It was the very moment when Napoleon, sum- 
moned by the Council of Ancients, began in the Tui- 
leries the revolution of the 18th Brumaire and was 
haranguing the garrison of Paris to secure it against 



278 CITIZEN ESS BONAPARTE. 

the other Council. The garden gate stopped me. I 
leaned against it, and gazed on the memorable scene. 
Then I ran around the enclosure, trying every en- 
trance; at last I reached the gate near the draw- 
bridge, and saw it open. A regiment of dragoons 
came out, the 9th; they started for Saint Cloud, with 
their overcoats rolled up, helmets on their heads, 
sabres in hand, and with the warlike excitement, the 
fierce and determined air of soldiers advancino- on 
the enemy to conquer or die. At this sight, all the 
soldier's blood I had inherited from all my ancestors 
boiled in my veins. My career was determined. 
From that moment I was a soldier; I thought of 
nothing but battles, and despised every other career." 
Madame de Stael records that on the 18th Bru- 
maire she happened to arrive in Paris from Switzer- 
land. When changing horses at some leagues from 
the city, she heard that the Director Barras had just 
passed by, escorted by gens d'armes. " The postilions," 
she goes on, "gave us the news of the day, and this 
way of hearing it made it only more vivid. It was 
the first time since the Revolution that one man's 
name was in every mouth. Previously they had said : 
The Constituent Assembly has done this, or the 
people, or the Convention ; now nothing was spoken 
of but this man who was going to take the place of 
all. That evening the city was excited with expec- 
tation of the morrow, and doubtless the majority of 
peaceful citizens, fearing the return of the Jacobins, 
then desired that General Bonaparte should succeed. 



THE ISTH BRUM AIRE. 279 

My feelings, I must say, were mixed. When the 
fight had once begun, a momentary victory of the 
Jacobins might be the signal for bloodshed; but 
neyertheless the thought of Bonaparte's triumph filled 
me with a pain that might be called prophetic." 

He himself, well contented with his day, returned 
to his house in the rue de la Victoire, where he found 
Josephine happy and confident. All the military 
preparations were complete : Moreau occupied the 
Luxembourg. Lannes, the Tuileries ; Serurier, the 
Point du Jour; Murat, the palace of Saint Cloud. 
Bonaparte fell asleep as calmly as on the eve of a 
great battle. 



XXIX. 



THE 19TH BRUMAIEE. 



THE revolution which Bonaparte effected is 
called the 18th Brumaire, yet in fact the 18th 
Brumaire was a mere prelude; the decisive day was 
the 19th. On the 18th respect was paid to the law ; 
on the 19th the law was violated, and for that reason 
the conqueror, desiring to excuse himself before his- 
tory, chose the 18th as the oiBcial date of the revo- 
lution. 

The night passed quietly ; the faubourgs did not 
dare to rise. The people of Paris looked on what 
was happening as if it were an interesting play which 
aroused no emotion or wrath. 

The morning of the 19th saw the road from Paris 
to Saint Cloud crowded with troops, carriages, and a 
throng full of curiosity. Bonaparte's success was 
predicted, but the issue was not yet certain, and thus 
the public interest was all the more excited. It had 
been decided that both Councils should meet at 
noon. The Representatives were punctual, and a 
little before twelve o'clock Bonaparte was on horse- 
back, opposite the palace of Saint Cloud, at the head 

280 



THE 19TH BBUMAIBE. 281 

of his troops. The Ancients were to meet on the 
first floor in tlie Gallery of Apollo, full of Mignard's 
decorations, and the Five Hundred in the orange 
house ; but the preparations were not completed at 
the appointed hour, and it was not till tw^o that the 
sessions began. While waiting, the deputies strolled 
in the park. It was evident that the Five Hundred 
were distinctly unfavorable to Bonaparte. He, much 
annoyed by the delay, kept going and coming, giving 
repeated orders, betraying the utmost impatience. 

At two, the sessions of the Councils were opened. 
That of the Ancients began with unimportant pre- 
liminaries ; that of the Five Hundred, with an 
outbreak of passion. Lucien Bonaparte presided. 
Gardin proposed that a committee of seven be ap- 
pointed to make a report on the measures to be taken 
in behalf of the public safety. Hostile murmurs 
made themselves heard. Delbel called out from his 
seat : " The Constitution before everything ! The 
Constitution or death ! Bayonets do not frighten 
us ; we are free here ! " A formidable clamor arose : 
" No dictatorship ! Down with dictators ! " Grand- 
maison moved that all the members of the Council of 
Five Hundred should be at once compelled to renew 
their oath of fidelity to the Constitution of the Year 
III. The motion was carried amid great enthusiasm. 
The roll was called for each member to swear in 
turn. Lucien Bonaparte himself swore fidelity to 
the Constitution which he was about to destroy. 

A letter was brought from Barras. Amid general 



282 CITIZEN ESS BONAPARTE. 

excitement, the secretary read aloud this letter, in 
which the Director announced his resignation ; it 
ended thus : " The glory which accompanies the 
return of the illustrious warrior, for whom I had the 
honor of opening the Avay, the distinct marks of the 
confidence accorded him by the Legislative Body, and 
the decree of the National Representatives, have con- 
vinced me that whatever may be the part to which 
the public interests henceforth may summon me, the 
dangers to liberty are surmounted and the interests 
of the army guaranteed. I return with joy to the 
ranks of private citizens, happy, after so many storms, 
to restore, uninjured and more deserving of respect 
than ever, the destinies of the Republic of which I 
have had in part the care." 

This letter produced a feeling of angry surprise. 
Of the five Directors, three had resigned. The 
government was dissolved. Resistance to BonajDarte 
had nothing to stand on. Grandmaison said from 
the tribune : ^' First of all, we must know whether 
the resignation of Barras is not the result of the ex- 
traordinary circumstances in which we are placed. 
I think that among the members present there are 
some who know where we came from and whither 
we are going." 

While the session of the Five Hundred began 
thus, what had been taking place among the An- 
cients ? Bonaparte had just made his appearance 
there and had spoken as a master. " Citizen Rep- 
resentatives," he had said, "you are not now in 



THE 19 TH BRUM AIRE. 283 

ordinary conditions, but on the edge of a volcano. 
Already I and my fellow-soldiers are overwhelmed 
with abuse. People are talking of a new Cromwell, 
a new Caesar. If I had desired to play such a part, 
I could easily have taken it when I returned from 
Italy. . . . Let us save the two things for which we 
have made so many sacrifices, — liberty and equality." 
And when a deputy interrupted with, " Speak about 
the Constitution," he answered: "The Constitution? 
you no longer have one. It is you who destroyed it 
by attacking, on the 18th Fructidor, the national rep- 
resentation ; by annulling, on the 22d Floreal, the 
popular elections ; by assaulting the independence of 
the government. All parties have striven to destroy 
this constitution of which you speak. They have all 
come to me to confide their plans and to induce me 
to aid them. I have refused ; but if it is necessary, 
I will name the parties and the men." Then he men- 
tioned Barras ; then the name of Moulins escaped 
him, but stormy contradictions foUoAved this inexact 
statement. 

Bonaparte, who was rather a man of action than 
a debater, was for a moment disconcerted. The tu- 
mult was growing; but he, abandoning persuasion, 
resorted to threats. Assuming the air of a protector 
who makes himself feared by those he guards, he 
said : " Surrounded by my companions in arms, I 
shall know how to aid you. I call to witness these 
brave grenadiers whose bayonets I see, and whom I 
have so often led against the enemy. If any oratory 



284 CITIZENESS BONAPARTE. 

in the pay of foreigners, should speak of outlawing 
me, I shall summon my companions in arms. Re- 
member that I march in the company of the God of 
fortune and of war." The Council of Ancients re- 
plied to this stormy outbreak by respectfully accord- 
ing to Bonaparte the honors of the meeting, and he 
left the hall and returned to his soldiers : he had a 
note taken to Josephine in which he told her to be 
calm, that all was going on well. 

At the same time he heard of the outburst of pas- 
sion in the Council of Five Hundred. Thereupon 
he ordered a company of grenadiers to follow him, 
and leaving it at the door of the Chamber, he crossed 
the threshold and stepped forward alone, hat in 
hand. It was just when Grandmaison was in the 
tribune speaking about Barras's letter. It was five in 
the afternoon ; the lamps were lit. At the sight of 
Bonaparte the Five Hundred uttered a long cry of 
indignation : " Down with the Dictator ! Down with 
the tyrant ! " They all rushed to meet the general, 
crowding him and denouncing him ; they forced him 
several steps back. Many brandished daggers and 
threatened his life. It was, he said later, the most 
perilous moment of his life. He was saved by Beau- 
vais, a Norman deputy of enormous strength, who 
drove back his assailants and brought him to his 
soldiers, who were hastening to his aid. One of the 
soldiers. Grenadier Thome, had his clothes cut by a 
dagger. The tumult was indescribable ; the orange 
house was like a battle-field. 



THE 19TH BRUMAIEE. 285 

It was in vain that Lucien tried to support his 
brother. Cries arose : " Outlaw him. Down with 
Bonaparte and his accomplices ! " His desk was over- 
run. " March, President," said a deputy ; " put to 
vote the proposition to outlaw him." 

Lucien descended the steps, denounced on every 
side. " Go back to your place ! Don't make us lose 
time ! Put to vote the outlawry of the dictator ! " 
" Tell my brother, " he said " that I have been driven 
from my chair. Ask him for an armed force to pro- 
tect my departure." Fregeville ran to inform Gen- 
eral Bonaparte, who had just left the orange house, 
under the guard of his soldiers, and had got on his 
horse, telling the soldiers that he narrowly escaped 
assassination. The trooj)S cheered their general and 
brandished their weapons. He had but a word to 
say, and the Five Hundred would be dispersed, but 
this word he hesitated to utter. He, who knew no 
fear, became confused, like Csesar, as Lucan describes 
him, undecided at the Rubicon. 

Meanwhile the tumult in the orange house was be- 
coming more intense. After two speeches, one from 
Bertrand of Calvados, the other from Talet, both hos- 
tile to Bonaparte, Lucien began to speak : " I do not 
rise," he said, "to make direct opposition to the 
motion [of outlawing Bonaparte] ; but it is a proper 
moment to remind the Council that the suspicions 
which have been brought up so lightly have pro- 
duced lamentable excesses. Can even an illegal step 
make us forget such noble deeds and important ser- 



286 CITIZEN ESS BONAPAETE. 

vice in behalf of the country ! " Lucien was inter- 
rupted by continual murmurs. There were cries, 
" Time is flying ; put the motion ! " * " No," resumed 
Lucien, "you cannot vote such a measure without 
hearing the General ; I ask that he be called to the 
bar. . . . These unseasonable interruptions which 
drown the voice of your colleagues are indecent. 
They continue and become more violent. Then I 
shall not insist. When order is once more estab- 
lished, and your extraordinary indecorum has ceased, 
you will yourselves render justice where it is due, 
without passion." 

-The uproar became so violent that Lucien could 
not face the storm ; so taking off his toga, and laying 
it on the tribune, he said : " Liberty no longer exists 
here. Since I have no means of making myself 
heard, you will at least see your President, in token 
of public grief, placing here the insignia of the pub- 
lic magistracy." 

" It is a lamentable thing," says Edgar Quinet, in 
his Mevolution, "that this last Assembly, already 
threatened, surrounded, denounced, with swords at 
its throat, should have no other defence against the 
soldiers' arms than such blunt weapons, — a con- 
science, new oaths, a roll-call, promises to die, up- 
roar, and the vain protests with which an Assembly, 
deserted by the nation at the hour of peril, deceives 
despair and amuses its last hour. Then were there 
moments of indescribable anxiety, when history lay 
in the balance between two opposing destinies, liberty 



THE 19TH BBUMAIRE. 287 

knowing no Avay in Avhicli to save itself, and the 
general, averse to pntting an end to tlie complica- 
tions, not daring to make a violent usurpation." 

After lie had placed his toga on the edge of the 
tribune, Lucien ceased speaking. He saw the com- 
pany of grenadiers Avhich he had asked of his brother. 
To the officer in command, Avho said, " Citizen Presi- 
dent, we are here by the General's orders," he re- 
plied in a loud voice, " We will follow you ; opeii a 
passage." Then turning to the Vice-President, he 
made a sign to him to close the meeting. Leaving 
the orange house, he hastened to the courtyard, 
where he found his brother motionless and silent, on 
horseback, surrounded by his soldiers. " Give me a 
horse," he shouted, " and sound the drums ! " In a 
moment he was on the horse of one of the dragoons, 
and after a roll of the drums, which was followed by 
profound silence : " Citizen soldiers," he said angrity, 
" I announce to you that the vast majority of this 
Council is at this moment intimidated by a few 
representatives armed with daggers. The brigands, 
doubtless in English pay, desire to outlaw your 
general ! Being entrusted with the execution of the 
vote of the Ancients, against which they are in re- 
volt, I appeal to the military. Citizen soldiers, save 
the representatives of the people from the represen- 
tatives of daggers, and let the majority of the Council 
be delivered from the stiletto by bayonets ! Long 
live the Republic I " To this cry the soldiers an- 



288 CITIZEN ESS BONAPARTE. 

swered with " Long live Bonaparte ! " And Lucien, 
waving a sword, cried out, " I swear with this sword 
to stab my own brother, if he ever does violence to 
the liberty of the French ! " The general hesitated 
no longer. He ordered the grenadiers commanded 
by Murat and Leclerc to enter the Chamber of the 
Five Hundred. The drums were beaten ; their roar 
drowned the voices of the representatives of the 
people, as they had drowned the voice of Louis XVL 
In a moment the hall was emjoty, the deputies having 
fled through the windows of the orange house into 
the garden. Only one clung to his seat, saying he 
wished to die there. They laughed at him, and at 
last he took flight like the rest. 

In Paris news was impatiently awaited. At one 
moment the rumor ran that Bonaparte was proscribed 
and outlawed ; the next, that he was victorious and 
had expelled the Five Hundred. It is thus that Ma- 
dame de Stael describes her different impressions 
during this agitated day : " One of my friends who 
was jDresent at the sitting in Saint Cloud sent me 
bulletins every hour. Once he told me the Jacobins 
were going to carry everything before them, and I 
made ready to leave France again ; the next moment 
I heard that Bonaparte had triumphed, the soldiers 
having expelled the National Representatives, and I 
wept, not over liberty, which never existed in France, 
but over the hope of that liberty without which a 
country knows only shame and misery." 



THE 19TH BBUMAIBE. 289 

All day Madame Bonaparte, the general's mother, 
had been very anxious, though outwardly calm. 
Three of her children were engaged in the struggle, 
and in case of Napoleon's failure, all three would 
be severely punished. Nevertheless, with her usual 
energy, she concealed her emotions. In the evening, 
when the definite result was still unknown, she was 
yet courageous enough to go with her daughters to 
the Theatre Feydeau, the fashionable theatre, where 
the Auteuj- dans son menage was given. In the 
course of the play some one stepped forward on 
the stage, and shouted out, "Citizens, General Bona- 
parte has just escaped being assassinated at Saint 
Cloud by traitors to this country ! " Madame Leclerc 
screamed with terror. It was half-past nine o'clock. 
Then Madame Bonaparte and her daughters left the 
theatre and hastened to the rue de la Victoire, where 
they found Josephine, who reassured them. 

The Bonaparte family had nothing more to fear. 
All resistance was impossible at Paris or at Saint 
Cloud. The soldiers of the man who was about to 
be the First Consul camped that night on the battle- 
field. At eleven o'clock he summoned his secretary : 
" I want the whole town, when it wakes up to-morrow, 
to think of nothing but me. Write ! " And he 
dictated one of those showy proclamations which he 
knew so well how to compose for an effect upon the 
masses. He gave to the coup cVetat a false appear- 
ance of legality. The two Councils had just met for 



290 CITIZENESS BONAPARTE. 

a night session. Most of tlie Five Hundred were 
absent. But it made no difference ; the minority was 
to be taken for a majority. Bonaparte, Siey^s, and 
Roger-Ducos were appointed consuls and were en- 
trusted with the preparations of a new constitution, 
aided by two legislative commissions. Sixty-one 
deputies of the Five Hundred, guilty of having 
wished to make the law respected, were declared in- 
capable for the future of serving as representatives. 
Lucien ended the night session with this speech: 
" French liberty was born in the tennis-court of 
Versailles. Since that immortal meeting it has 
di^agged itself along till our time, the prey in turn of 
the inconsistency, the weakness, and the convulsive 
ailments of infancy. To-day it has assumed its manly 
robes. No sooner have you established it on the love 
and confidence of the French than the smile of peace 
and abundance shine on its lips. Representatives of 
the people, listen to the blessing of the people and of 
its armies, long the plaything of factions, and may 
their shouts reach the depths of your hearts I Listen 
also to the sublime voice of posterity ! If liberty 
was born at the tennis-court of Versailles, it has been 
consolidated in the orange hou6e of Saint Cloud. 
The Constituents of '89 were the fathers of the 
Revolution, but the legislators of the Year VIII. will 
be the fathers and peacemakers of the country." 
There is nothing in the world easier than to set what 
has succeeded in brilliant colors. In Brumaire, as 



THE 19TH BRUM AIRE. 291 

in Fructiclor, might had overcome right, and might 
never hicks worshippers. All was over ; the game had 
been won. At three in the morning Bonaparte got 
into his carriage and drove back from Saint Cloud to 
Paris, where the inhabitants had illuminated their 
houses, in celebration of his illegal victory. 



I 



XXX. 



EPILOGUE. 



BONAPARTE returned from Saint Cloud to 
Paris, between three and four in the morning, 
having in the carriage with him his brother Lucien, 
Siey^s, and General Gardanne. All the way he was 
absorbed, thoughtful, silent. Was it physical and 
moral fatigue following so many emotions? Was it 
a presentiment of the future, the thought of his fu- 
ture deeds, which were busying the imagination of this 
great historical character ? What reflections he must 
have made on the turns of fortune ! Had he been 
beaten, he would have been outlawed ; as the con- 
queror, he knew no law but his own will. Beaten, he 
would have been an apostate, a renegade, a wretch ; 
his laurels would have been dragged in the dust, and 
he himself would have been carted to the gibbet. As 
conqueror, he was to ascend the steps to the capitol, 
swearing that he was his country's saviour. Con- 
quered, he would have been a vile Corsican, unworthy 
the name of Frenchman. As conqueror, he was the 
man of destiny, the protecting genius. Instead of 
abuse, he was to hear songs of praise, and to see the 

292 






EPILOGUE. 293 



old parties laying down their arms ; young Royalists 
enthusiastically joining him under the tricolored flag; 
the army and populace rending the air with their 
cheers ; priests singing hymns ; in the forum, the 
camp, the churches, — he was to find everywhere the 
same outburst of joy. Yet those who make the coup 
d'etat know very well that the ovations which greet 
them depend solely on their success, and that their 
success depends on the merest trifles. Succeed, and 
you are a hero ; fail, and you are a traitor. How 
ridiculous is human judgment, how vain and uncer- 
tain the verdict of history ! Posterity, like universal 
suffrage, is forever altering its judgment. What is 
truth one year is false the next. The voice of the 
people is not the voice of God. 

Bonaparte was back in the house in the rue de la 
Yictoire, which had always brought him happiness, 
— where he was married, whence he started for Italy 
and Egypt, whither he always returned victorious, 
and where two days before he had felt confident of 
the success of the cowp dCetat^ the origin of his su- 
preme power. He kissed Josephine tenderly and told 
her all the incidents of the day, passing rapidly over 
the danger he* had been through in the orange house, 
and jesting about the embarrassment which he, a 
man of action, felt when compelled to speak. Then 
he rested a few hours, and woke up in the morning, 
the master of Paris and of France. 

Fate had spoken. Who could resist the man with 
whom marched " the God of fortune and of war " ? 



294 CITIZEN ESS BONAPARTE. 

This is what is said by Edgar Quinet, the great dem- 
ocratic writer, who describes the passive adhesion of 
the whole people : " This was, I imagine, the greatest 
grief of the last representatives of liberty in France ; 
after which all grief is bnt a jest. They imagined 
that they were followed by people whose souls they 
owned. For many days they were going here and 
there, peering into the cross-ways and public places. 
Where were the magnificent orators at the bar of the 
old assemblies ? Where the forests of pikes so often 
uplifted, and the repeated oaths of fourteen years, 
and the magnanimous nation which the mere shade 
of a master had so often driven wild with anger? 
Where was their pride? Where the Roman indigna- 
tion? How could those great hearts have fallen in 
so fcAV years? No echo answered. The Five Hun- 
dred found only astonished faces, sudden conversions 
to force, incredulity, and silence. All was dissipated 
in a moment; they themselves seemed to be pursuing 
a vision." 

The time was drawing nigh when republican sim- 
plicity was to give way to the formal and refined 
etiquette of a monarchy ; when the woman who lan- 
guished in the prison of the Carmes, under the Terror, 
was to be surrounded with the pomp and splendor of 
an Asiatic queen; when Lucien Bonaparte was to 
congratulate himself, as he said, that " he had not got 
into the crowd of princes and princesses who were 
taken in tow by all the renegades of the Republic." 
For, he goes on, " who knows whether the example 



EPILOGUE. 295 



of all these apostasies might not have perverted my 
political and philosophic sentiments?" 

The more one studies history, the more depressing 
it is. The illusions in which peoples indulge call 
forth a smile — illusions about liberty, about absolut- 
ism. Every government thinks itself immortal ; not 
one, before its fall, sees the abyss yawning before it. 
If we compare the results and the efforts, we can only 
lament the vicious circle in which unhappy humanity 
forever turns. What would Bonaparte have said, 
what his admirers and officers, if any one had an- 
nounced to them what the end of their epoch would 
be? And what did the Republicans, formerly so 
haughty and arrogant, think of their change of 
heart? France has paid a high price for these inces- 
sant apostasies. By dint of burning what she has 
adored, and adoring what she has burned, she has be- 
come distrustful of her own glories, ready to destroy 
the most illustrious legends of centuries, to scoff at 
royalty, imperialism, and the republic in turn, and 
to get rid of ideas, enthusiasms, and principles as 
readily as an actress gets rid of a worn dress. 

It was done. Josephine had a new position. She 
was no more to be called Citizeness Bonaparte, but 
Madame, like the ladies of the old regime, until she 
should bear the title of Empress and Your Majesty. 
The Republic existed only in name ; its institutions 
were gone. One man alone was left: Bonaparte as First 
Consul was more than a constitutional sovereign, and 
many queens possess less influence and prestige than 



296 CITIZENESS BONAPARTE. 

did his wife. Yet on the whole, the really republican 
period of their lives was the happiest portion. Before 
Brumaire Bonaparte counted for a soldier of liberty, 
and his wife was deemed a truly patriotic woman. 
All that time, she had served the interests of her am- 
bitious husband with great intelligence. Without 
her he would hardly have attained such wonderful 
results. She it was who secured for him the support 
of Barras, and had him made, when but twenty-six, 
the commander-in-chief of the Army of Italy ; at 
Milan she was as useful to him as in Paris, by concil- 
iating aristocratic society in both cities ; during the 
Directory, she allayed the jealousy of the Directory, 
and made herself welcome to both Royalists and 
Republicans ; on the morning of the 18th Brumaire, 
she covered his sword with flowers, and in her per- 
fumed note laid a snare for Gohier. The movement 
was irresistible ; Madame Bonaparte's smiles com- 
pleted her husband's work. 

After the 18th Brumaire Lucien still nourished 
liberal hopes, like Daunou, Cabanis, Gregoire, Carnot, 
and Lafayette. He was sure that the Republic 
would never turn into a monarchy, and sincerely 
believed that he had saved liberty. Later, he said at 
Saint Cyr to General Gouvion : "Will you not 
acknowledge, dear General, that you knew this sol- 
dier, once your equal, now your Emperor, when he 
was a sincere and ardent Republican ? No, you will 
say, he deceived us by false appearances. Well, for 
my part, I will say that he deceived himself ; for a 



EPILOGUE. 297 



long time General Bonaparte was a Republican like 
you or me. He served the Republic of the Conven- 
tion with all the ardor which you saw, and as you 
would not, perhaps, have dared to do yourself in such 
a land, amid such a population. . . . The indepen- 
dent character of the sturdy mountaineers among 
whom we were born taught him to respect human 
-dignity ; and it was only when the temporary consul- 
ship was succeeded by the consulate for life, when a 
sort of court grew up at the Tuileries, and Madame 
Bonaparte was surrounded by prefects and ladies-in- 
waiting, that any change could be detected in the 
master's mind, and that he proceeded to treat every- 
body as everybody desired to be treated." 

It was possibly in spite of himself that Napoleon 
became a Csesar. The evening of the 18th Brumaire 
he still hoped to secure the consent of the two Coun- 
cils and to avoid all illegality. Who knows? If 
the Directors had consented to lower the limit of age, 
and to receive him as a colleague, although he was 
not yet thirty, and the Constitution required that the 
Directors should be forty years old, the coup d'etat 
might never have happened. On what things the 
fate of republics and empires depends ! 

At first, Bonaparte was a Republican, and Jose- 
phine a Legitimist, As Emperor and Empress they 
became Imperialists. But royal splendors cannot 
make us forget the Republican period. The modest 
uniform of the hero of Arcole was perhaps preferred 
to the gorgeous coronation robes, and more than 



298 CITIZENESS BONAPARTE. 

once, beneath the golden hangings of tlie Imperial 
palaces, Josephine regretted the modest house in the 
rue de la Victoire, the sanctuary of her love. The 
bright sun of the South could not make her forget the 
first rays of dawn. Like France, she lost in liberty 
what she gained in grandeur. A life of almost 
absolute independence was followed by all the slavery 
of the highest rank. She was already a queen except 
in name. When she left her little house in the rue 
de la Victoire a few days after the 18 th Brum aire, 
it was to take up her quarters in the Luxembourg. 
But the residence of Maria de' Medici was not large 
enough for the First Consul and Madame Bonaparte. 
They went in a few days* to take the place in the 
Tuileries of the King and Queen of France, and 
Lucien, the unwitting promoter of the Empire, was 
to regret, as he put it, " that the Constitution of the 
Consular Republic could have been so readily sacri- 
ficed to what may be called the personification of the 
monarchical power, which in the person of the unfor- 
tunate Louis XVI., the best-meaning of sovereigns, 
had been so barbarously destroyed." Madame Bona- 
X)arte was to be compelled to 2)art company with Ma- 
dame Tallien and several of her best friends of the soci- 
ety of the Directory. Even the name of Barras, once 
so powerful, now obscure and forgotten in his estate of 
Grosbois, was never to be uttered. Bonaparte could 
not bear to be reminded tliat once he had been de- 
pendent on that man. Already the herd of flatterers, 
who were to form the consular court, had begun to 



EPILOGUE. 299 



gather. The ideas and fashions of the past were 
about to reappear. Many Republican innovations did 
not outlaw the new almanac. A dead society came 
back to life. Madame Bonaparte appeared what she 
was in fact, though not to a careless observer, — a 
woman of the old regime. The Tuileries were not far 
from the Faubourg Saint Germain. But for all her 
success, her wealth, her greatness, Josephine could 
not recall the days of the Republic without emotion. 
Then she was young ; and nothing can take the place 
of youth. Then she was powerful ; and is not hope 
always sweeter than the reality ? Then she was 
beautiful ; and for a woman is not beauty the only 
true power? Then she was worshipped by her hus- 
band, and to appear charming in his eyes she did not 
need the splendor of the throne. In her plain dress 
of white muslin and a white flower in her hair, she 
seemed to him more beautiful than in her coronation 
robes of silver brocade covered with pink bees, and 
her crown sparkling with gems. She had no equer- 
ries, chamberlains, or maids of honor ; but her youth 
adorned her more than a diadem. As Empress and 
Queen, Josephine was doubtless to regret the time 
when in a Republican society she bore no other title 
than that of Citizeness Bonaparte. 



INDEX. 



Aboukir, the battle of, 242. 1 

Abrantes, Duchess of, her account 
of the reception of the captured 
battle-flags, 15 ; describes the 
conduct of Madame de Damas 
to Josephine, 223. 

Abrantes, Duke of, 91 ; see Junot. 

Aides-de-camp of Bonaparte in 
Egypt, 240. 

Alvinzy, advance of, 67, 71. 

Ancients, Council of the, to vote to 
change the place of meeting, 
268 ; does so, 274 ; meets at Saint 
Cloud, 280. 

Arcole, battle of, 80. 

Army, the, of Italy, enthusiasm of, 
25 ; the poverty of, 30 ; swiftness 
and success of, 63; discourage- 
ment of, 72 ; heroism of, 78 ; wild 
with joy over its triumphs. 111; 
regard Bonaparte as an ardent 
Republican, 131. 

Arnault describes the effect of Jo- 
sephine's beauty, 17; quoted, 39, 
43, 105 ; his reminiscences of Tal- 
leyrand, 184; with Bonaparte at 
Talleyrand's ball, 190; on the 
Egyptian expedition, 200; sails 
with the army for Egypt, 207; 
conversation of, with Bonaparte 
about the 18th Brumaire, 267. 

Augereau counsels lighting, 59; 
sent to Paris by Bonaparte to 
win the confidence of the Demo- 
crats, 135 ; arrests the reaction- 
ary deputies, 138. 

Ball, Talleyrand's, in honor of 
Bonaparte, 188 ; cost of, 192. 



Barras, a witness of Napoleon's 
marriage to Josephine, 1 ; con- 
ciliated by Josephine, 109 ; threat- 
ens Lavalette, 140 ; speech of, at 
Bonaparte's reception in Paris, 
178 ; at the end of his tether, 213 ; 
Bonaparte's disgust with, 260; 
resignation of, 276^ 281. 

Beauharnais, Eugene de, taken 
into Bonaparte's confidence, 238; 
Bonaparte's affection for, 240; 
wounded at Saint Jean d'Acre, 
240; describes the departure of 
Bonaparte from Egypt, 244; 
pleads with Bonaparte for Jose- 
phine, 256. 

Beauharnais, Hortense de, acts in 
Esther before Bonaparte, 195. 

Beau^vais, a Norman deputy, saves 
Bonaparte, 284. 

Bonaparte, marries the Viscountess 
of Beauharnais, 1 ; deeply in love, 
4, 35 et seq.; leaves Paris for 
Italy, 2; his affectionate letters 
to his wife, 3, 6, 9, 11, 40, 48, 49 
et seq., 61, 66, 73, 87, 89, 98, 100; 
takes command of the Army of 
Italy, 5; his victories, 10; his 
swift successes, 14; passes for a 
Republican, 18 ; effect of his vic- 
tory at Lodi, 18; enters Milan, 
27; his power of striking the im- 
agination, 28; his hold on his 
soldiers, 29; sends his resigna- 
tion to the Directory, 32; his 
lack of heart, 34; his affection 
for Josephine, 35 ; urges her to 
join him, 39; takes her with him 
on his campaign, 47; a sentimen- 

301 



302 



INDEX. 



tal chord in his character, 30; 
inspired by love and patriotism, 
50; announces in advance the 
defeat of Wurmser, 58; defeats 
Wurmser at Castiglione, GO, and 
in the Tyrol, 63 ; impatient with 
the Directory, 67 ; assures Carnot 
of his devotion to the Republic, 
68; his anxieties, 70; forced to 
retreat, 72 ; confesses he had lost 
hope, 75; his despairing letter to 
the Directory, 76; his peril at 
the bridge of Arcole, 80 ; victory 
of Arcole, 81; his faith in his 
destiny, 83; his disposition to 
re very and melancholy, 84; suf- 
fers from physical disorders, 87 ; 
his demeanor at Milan after Ar- 
cole, 90; his aides-de-camp, 90; 
happy in his wife's society, 93; 
ill of a fever, 95 ; wins the battle 
of Rivoli, 96 ; signs the treaty of 
Tolentino, 99; his letter to the 
Pope, 100 ; defeats the Archduke 
Charles and enters Germany, 102 ; 
makes peace with Austria and de- 
clares war against Venice, 104; 
his court in the Serbelloni Palace 
in Milan, 105 ; pleases all parties, 
109 ; his contempt for the Direc- 
tory, 109 ; loyal to Josephine, 110 ; 
his court at the castle of Monte- 
bello, 115; declares Josephine's 
dog. Fortune, his rival, 121; insti- 
tutes a grand military festival at 
Milan, 124 ; happy among his sol- 
diers, 127 ; reveals his real inten- 
tions to Melito, 132 ; a Republican 
at first for his own advantage. 
134 ; his double game, 135 ; makes 
a Republican proclamation to his 
army, 141; at Passeriano, 143; 
accuses the Directory of injus- 
tice, 147 ; letter of, to Talleyrand, 
149; decides to abandon Venice 
to Austria, 151; his situation 
critical, 158; gains Talleyrand 
by letters of sympathy and con- 
fidence, 158 ; refuses to obey the 



commands of the Directory to 
revolutionize Italy, 159 ; smashes 
Cobenzl's porcelain and declares 
war with Austria, 160 ; signs the 
treaty of Campo Formio, 161 ; has 
the Venetian deputies arrested 
and brought before him, 163 ; re- 
ceives a letter from Talleyrand 
congratulating him on tbe peace, 
104; sets out on his return to 
Paris, 165 ; his journey a series of 
ovations, 168; arrives in Paris, 
168; his popularity, 171; pub- 
lic reception to, at the Luxem- 
bourg, 172; pleased by Talley- 
rand's flatteries, 175 ; his speech 
at the reception, 177; attends 
Talleyrand's ball in his honor, 
189 ; elected a member of the In- 
stitute, 194; determines not to 
stay in Paris, 197; visits the 
northern ports, 198; determines 
on the Egyptian expedition. 198; 
leaves Paris secretly, 202 ; his es- 
cape from a serious accident, 203 ; 
at Toulon, 204 ; sails from Toulon, 
207 ; his faith in his fortune, 209 ; 
proclamation of, to his men, 210 ; 
contempt of the Legitimists for, 
222; his calculation of the effect 
of the Egyptian expedition on the 
Parisians, 232 ; his gigantic plans, 
233; his melancholy, 235; talks 
of a divorce, 236; is calmed by 
Bourrienne, 237; discusses with 
Eugene de Beauharnais Jose- 
phine's unfaithfulness, 238 ; fails 
at Saint Jean d'Acre, 240; dis- 
cusses his plans with Bourrienne, 
240 ; his proclamation to his army, 
241; his wonderful march to 
Cairo, 242 ; destroys the Turkish 
army at Aboukir, 242 ; determines 
to return to France, 243; the Egyp- 
tian campaign of service to Bona- 
parte, 246; his skilful use of it, 
246 ; his perilous return to France, 
247 et seq. ; arrives at Corsica, 
249 ; lands at Fre'jus, 251 ; arrives 



INDEX. 



303 



in Paris, 254; refuses to see Jo- 
sephine, 255 ; is reconciled with 
her, 256 ; decides to ally himself 
with Sieyes, 258, 260 ; meets Mo- 
reau, 259; his craft, 260; acci- 
dent to, while riding, 263; con- 
duct of, at the civic banquet, 
265 ; arranges the coup d'etat of 
the 18th Brumaire, 269 et seq. ; 
bids Madame Gohier to summon 
her husband, 272; appears be- 
fore the Council of Ancients, 
275; reproaches the Directory 
with ruinous laws and misery, 
276 ; well content with the course 
of events, 279; appears among 
the Ancients and speaks as a 
master, 282; enters the Council 
of Five Hundred and is assailed, 
284; his proclamation, 290; mas- 
ter of France, 293; possibly a 
Caesar in spite of himself, 297. 

Bonaparte, family, the, at Monte- 
bello, 115. 

Bonaparte, Citizeness. See Jose- 
phine. 

Bonaparte, Madame Letitia, at 
Genoa, 116; character of, 226; 
resided with her son Joseph, 228 ; 
her self-possession the 19th Bru- 
maire, 289. 

Bonaparte, Caroline, 228; ambi- 
tious, 229. 

Bonaparte, Elisa, 228. 

Bonaparte, Jerome, character of, 
228. 

Bonaparte, Joseph, sent by Napo- 
leon to the Directory, 12 ; charac- 
ter of, 226. 

Bonaparte, Louis, aide-de-camp to 
Bonaparte, 92; hostile to Jose- 
phine, 228. 

Bonaparte, Lucien, character and 
career of, 227; elected president 
of the Council of the Ancients, 
253; silences the Deputies, 276, 
281 ; denounced by the Depu- 
ties, 285 ; cherishes liberal hopes, 
296. 



Bonaparte, Pauline, frivolous con- 
duct of, 118; the handsomest 
woman in Paris, 228. 

Bottot, Barras' secretary, sent to 
Bonaparte at Passeriano, 147, 
protests to Bonaparte that the 
Directory admire and love liim, 
150. 

Bourrienne, in the secret of Napo- 
leon's Egyptian expedition, 200; 
calms Bonaparte's jealous rage, 
237. 

Boyer, Christine, wife of Lucien 
Bonaparte, 227. 

Brumaire, the 18th, 263 et seq.; 
the 19th, 280. 

Bucentaur, the, fate of, 156. 

Carnot, his speech celebrating mili- 
tary glory, 21; opposes Talley- 
rand's entrance into the ministry, 
186. 

Charles, the Archduke, defeated 
by Napoleon, 102. 

Cobenzl, Count, his intercourse with 
Bonaparte, 144 ; Bonaparte's vio- 
lent scene with, regarding Man- 
tua, 160 ; accedes to Bonaparte's 
proposition, 161. 

Contades, Madame de, her hatred 
of Bonaparte, 223. 

Cornet, his address to the Council 
of Ancients, 273; informs Bona- 
parte of the action of the Council, 
275. 

Council of Five Hundred, indigna- 
tion of, 276 ; meet at Saint Cloud, 
280; unfavorable to Bonaparte, 
281, 284; uproar in, 285; dis- 
persed by the Grenadiers, 288. 

Croissier, aide-de-camp to Bona- 
parte, 93. 

Damas, Madame de, her refusal to 
meet Josephine, 223. 

Dandolo, at the head of the provis- 
ional government in Venice, 151 ; 
speaks courageously and elo- 
quently for lis country, 163. 



304 



INDEX. 



Desaix, General, visits Bonaparte 
at Passeriano, 146. 

Directory, the, glorify Napoleon, 
15; celebrate the "Festival of 
Gratitude and of the Victories," 
19; detect Bonaparte's plans, but 
hope to use him, 136; suspicious 
of Bonaparte, protest friendship, 
149; no longer taken seriously, 
213 ; the resignation of, 270, 276. 

Duroc, Bonaparte's aide-de-camp, 
92. 

Egyptian expedition starts from 
Toulon, 206; useful to Bonaparte, 
246; made uj) of rashness and 
risks, 247. 

Elliot, Bonaparte's aide, killed at 
Arcole, 82, 86. 

" Festival of Gratitude and of the 
Victories," celebration of, 19. 

Fortune, Josephine's dog, 121. 

Fouche, conversation of, with Go- 
hier, 266. 

Gallo, Marquis of, snubbed by 
Bonaparte, 145. 

Gantheaume, Rear Admiral, takes 
Bonaparte on his ship, 243. 

Genoa, Bonaparte's ultimatum to, 
116. 

Gohier, M., true to Republican 
principles, 213; disturbed at Bona- 
parte's arrival, 253; receives Bo- 
naparte, 258; conversation of, 
with Fouche, 266; declines Jose- 
phine's invitation, 272; protest 
of, 276. 

Gohier, Madame, friendship of, cul- 
tivated by Josephine, 231; in- 
forms her husband of the Bona- 
partes' plot, 272. 

Goncourts, the, on the worship of 
the Theophilanthropists, 214. 

Grassini's interview with Napo- 
leon, 111. 

Gros, paints the first portrait of 
Bonaparte, 93. 



Holland, King of, see Louis Bona- 
parte, 92. 

Junot, sent to Paris with the cap- 
tured battle-flags, 12, 16; charac- 
ter of, 90; tells Bonaparte that 
Josephine is unfaithful, 236. 

Josephine, her marriage with Bo- 
naparte, 1; fascinated by, but 
not in love Avith, her husband, 4; 
her appearance at the festival of 
the reception of the captured 
flags, 15; her feelings for Bona- 
parte, 36 ; dislikes to leave Paris, 
37 ; criticised for not joining Na- 
poleon, 38 ; goes to Milan to meet 
Bonaparte, 44; saves Bonaparte 
by inducing him to leave Brescia, 
55 ; in peril, 55 ; fired on from 
Mantua, 57 ; longs for Paris, 64 ; 
letter of, to Hortense, 65; stays 
at Milan to prevent an insurrec- 
tion there, 75 ; entertained by the 
city of Genoa, 88; holds Bona- 
parte on her lap while his por- 
trait is painted by Gros, 93 ; her 
letters to Bonaparte not pre- 
served, 101 ; her court in the 
Serbelloni Palace in Milan, 107 ; 
of great service to Napoleon, 108 ; 
conciliates Barras, 109; her per- 
sonal ajipearance and charm, 
110; tact and kindness of, 120; 
grand reception given to, by the 
Venetians, 157 et seq. ; her happi- 
ness complete, 195; wishes to 
accompany Bonaparte to Egypt, 
206; views the departure of the 
fleet, 210; accident to, at Plom- 
bieres, 220; buys Malmaison, 
221 ; hurt by the ridicule of the 
Legitimists, 222; her relations 
with them, 224; her salon, 225; 
exercises diplomacy with the Bo- 
napartes, 225, 229 ; often short of 
money, 229; her kindly disposi- 
tion, 230; cultivates Madame 
Gohier' s friendship, 231; with- 
out her aid Bonaparte would not 



INDEX. 



305 



have become Emperor, 231 ; hears 
at M. Gohier's of Bonaparte's ar- 
rival, 253; starts to meet him 
and takes the wrong road, 253; 
denied admittance to Bonaparte's 
apartment, 255 ; is reconciled with 
him, 256; her tact and skill of 
great service to Bonaparte, 259; 
in the secret of the 18th Bru- 
maire, 267; her attempt to in- 
volve the Gohiers, 273 ; her pres- 
tige and influence, 295 ; takes up 
her quarters in the Tuileries, 298. 

Lanfrey, M., describes Josephine's 
attachment for Napoleon, 35. 

Lannes, General, heroism of, at Ar- 
cole, 8J, 86. 

Lavalette, Bonaparte's aide-de- 
camp, 93; sent to Paris by Bo- 
naparte to act on the Royalists, 
135 ; threatened by Barras, re- 
turns to Bonaparte, 140 ; his tes- 
timony regarding the intrigues 
of Bonaparte's brothers against 
Josephine, 170. 

Lavalee, Theophile, quoted, 212. 

Lebrun, the poet, his hymn at the 
Republican banquet, 23. 

Lefebvre, General, won over by Bo- 
naparte, 271. 

Lemerrois, Bonaparte's aide-de- 
camp, 92. 

Lodi, the battle of, 18; festival 
celebrating the victory of, 19. 

Luxembourg, public reception to 
Bonaparte at, 172. 

Marmont, describes the entry into 
Milan, 27; Napoleon's conversa- 
tion with, 28 ; character of, 91 ; 
his account of the stay at Mon- 
tebello, 119 ; on the signing of the 
treaty at Campo Formio, 161 ; de- 
scribes Bonaparte's narrow es- 
cape at Roquevaire, 203; describes 
the perils of the Egyptian expe- 
dition on the way to Egypt, 208. 

Melito, Miot de, relates Bonaparte's 



conversation with him at Milan, 
concerning his real plans and 
ideas, 132. 

Mersfeld, General von, Austrian 
plenipotentiary at Passeriano, 
146. 

Metternich says that Napoleon was 
not irreligious, 99. 

Michelet, quoted, 50. 

Milan, Napoleon's entrance into, 
25 ; the comfort of the soldiers 
in, 31; society in, after the vic- 
tories of Bonaparte, 112; grand 
military Republican Festival at, 
124. 

Montebello, Bonaparte's court at 
the castle of, 114 ; Austrian pleni- 
potentiaries at, 115; description 
of, 118. 

Murat, sent to Paris by Napoleon, 
with the draft of the armistice, 
12. 

Nelson guarding Toulon with his 
fleet when the Egyptian expedi- 
tion sailed, 209- 

Paris, under the Directory, 37; 
fickleness of, 212; not conspicu- 
ous for morality, 214 ; all parties 
prepared to play Bonaparte's 
game, 218. 

Pope, the, compelled by Bonaparte 
to pay a subsidy and cede terri- 
tory, 100. 

Quinet, Edgar, quoted, 83, 139, 264, 
286, 294. 

Ragusa, Duke of. See Marmont. 

Re'musat Madame de, says Napo- 
leon had no heart, 34; but ad- 
mits his affection for Josephine, 
40, 74, 101; describes a visit to 
Malmaison, 221. 

Rivoli, the battle of, 96. 

Sardinia, armistice with, 12, 
Saint Jean d'Angely, Regnault de, 



306 



INDEX. 



accident to Bonaparte while rid- 
ing with, 263. 

Scott, Walter, calls Napoleon fiery 
in love as in war, 42; describes 
the reception of Josephine at 
Genoa, 88; describes her honors 
in Italy, 117. 

Sebastiani, Colonel, ordered by Bo- 
naparte to guard the Tuileries, 
269, 271. 

Sc'gur, General de, his account of 
the scenes at the Tuileries the 
18th Brumaire, 277. 

Serbelloni, Duke of, meets Jose- 
phine at the gate of Milan, 45 ; 
his palace the residence of Bona- 
parte at Milan, 46. 

Sieyes, Abbe, Bonaparte refuses 
to speak to him, 259; in league 
with him, 260 ; resignation of, 276. 

Smith, Admiral Sidney, checks 
Bonaparte at Acre, 241; sends 
him news of French reverses, 243. 

Stael, Madame de, discovers that 
the Republic was only a means 
for Bonaparte's ends, 136 ; affects 
a passion for Bonaparte, 137 ; in 
hiding, the 17th Fructidor, 138 ; 
efforts to get Talleyrand into the 
Ministry, 186 ; presented to Bona- 
parte, and questions him, 191 ; 
her anecdote of Bonaparte and 
Barras, 197; quoted, 204; her 
Considerations on the French 
Revolution quoted, 277; her 
impression on the 19th Brumaire, 
288. 



Stendhal, his anecdote of M. Robert, 
30 ; of the French army in Milan, 
111. 

Suleau, prediction of, 261. 

Sulkowski, Bonaparte's aide-do- 
camp, 92. 

Theophilanthropists, the worship 
of, 214. 

Talleyrand, plays the part of a 
fanatical Republican, 141; his 
letter to Bonaparte on the events 
of 18th Fructidor, 142; Bonaparte 
gains him by letters of confidence 
and sympathy, 158; writes to 
Bonaparte congratulating him ou 
the peace of Campo Formio, 164 ; 
speech of, at Bonaparte's recep- 
tion in Paris, 175; his transfor- 
mation from the Bishop of Au- 
tun to Citizen Talleyrand, 185 
et seq. ; tries to overreach Bona- 
parte, 187 ; gives a grand ball in 
Bonaparte's honor, 189. 

Tallien, Madame, 16. 

Venice, grand reception to Jose- 
phine at, 151 et seq. ; decadence 
of, 155. 

Women's fashions under the Direc- 
tory, 216. 

Wurmser, marches to relieve Man- 
tua, 54 ; defeated at Castiglione, 
60, and in the Tyrol, 63; takes 
refuge in Mantua, 65 ; surrender 
of, 97. 



Typography by J. S. Gushing & Co., Boston. 
Presswork by Berwick & Smith, Boston. 



FAMOUS WOMEN OF THE 
FRENCH COURT. 



Charles Scribner's Sons, Publishers. 



\1/ITHIN the past few years M. Imbert de Saint- 
Amand has written a series of volumes whicli 
have made him one of tlie most popular authors of 
France. Each has for its nucleus some portion of the 
life of one of the eminent women who have presided 
over or figured at the French court, either at Ver- 
sailles or the Tuileries. But though thus largely 
biographical and possessing the interest inseparable 
from personality, the volumes are equally pictures of 
the times they describe. He is himself saturated with 
the literature and history of the period, and what 
mainly distinguishes his books is the fact that they 
are in considerable part made up of contemporary 
letters and memoirs, so that the reader hears the 
characters themselves speak, and is brought into the 
closest imaginary contact with them. Moreover, the 
complexion of the mosaic thus cleverly mortised is 
familiar rather than heroic. The historian is no^ 
above gossip in its good sense, and the way in whicii 
the life of the time and of its distinguished person- 
ages is depicted is extremely intimate as well as vivid 
and truthful. 

The first volumes to appear, rendered into particu- 
larly idiomatic English by Mr. Thomas Sergeant 
Perry, whose accomplishments as a translator are well 
known, refate to Marie Antoinette, Josephine as wife 
of the First Consul, and Marie Louise. They give a 
vivid representation of the momentous times imme- 
diately before, during, and after the epoch of the 
Revolution. Probably no times in any country were 



ever so picturesque, so crowded with events, and so 
peopled with striking characters. The characteristics of 
the ancient regime, the occupations of the courtiers at 
Versailles and other incidents of the old order of things 
tottering to its fall, are grouped effectively around the 
sympathetic figure of Louis Sixteenth's queen. Josephine 
is taken as the centre of the new society that issued from 
the disorganization wrought by the Revolution, and in 
"The Happy Days of the Empress Marie Louise," we 
are led behind the scenes and shown the domestic life as 
well as the splendid court pomp of the world's Conqueror 
at the acme of his career. 



The Wife of the First Consul. By Imbert de 

Saint-Amand. Translated by^TnoMAS Sergeant 

Perry. Now Ready. 
The Happy Days of the Empress Marie Louise. By 

the same. Now Ready. 
Marie Antoinette and the End o^ -^^he Old Regime. 

By the same 
Citizeness Bonaparte.' 
Marie Louise and the Decadence of the Empire. 

In Press. 
The Court of the Empress Josephine. In Press. 

Each w/'fh Porira/t. 12mo. $1 .25 per volume. 



CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS, 

PUBLISHERS, 
/4:3=7-45 Broadway, New York 



The First American Edition 



MEMOIRS OF 

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE 

By LOUIS ANTOINE FAUVELET DE BOURRIENNE 

His Private Secretary 
■With 34 Full-page Portraits and Other Illustrations 

Edited by Col. R. W. PHIPPS. New and Revised Edition 



The Set, 4 Vols., 12mo, Cfoth, in a Box, $5.00 

Characteristic bindings in Half Morocco and Half Calf, specially designed 

for this work, can now be supplied 
The Set, 4 Vols., in a box, Half Morocco, gilt top, . . . $8.00 

Half Calf, " ... 10.00 



CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS, Publishers 
NEW YORK 



FOR sixty years Bourrienne's "Memoirs of Napoleon" 
has been a standard authority to which every one 
has turned for a graphic, entertaining picture of 
the man as he appeared to his intimate friend and Secre- 
tary. Bourrienne, who had been the friend and com- 
panion of Napoleon at school, became his Secretary in 
1797 and remained in this confidential position till 1802. 
His " Memoirs " has heretofore been accessible only in 
tlie English editions. It is now proposed to publish 
immediately in a popular Library Edition, in four i2mo 
volumes, an exact reprint of the latest English edition. 
This American edition will contain the thirty-four por- 
traits and other illustrations of the original, together with 
all the other features that give distinction to the work — 
the chronology of Napoleon's life, the prefaces to the 



BOURRIENNR'S ''NAPOLEON:' 



several editions, the author's introduction, and tlie addi- 
tional matter which supplements Bourrienne's work, an 
account of the important events of the Hundred Days, 
of Napoleon's surrender to the English, and of his resi- 
dence and death at St. Helena, with anecdotes and illus- 
trative extracts from contemporary Memoirs. The per- 
sonality of one of the greatest figures in history is placed 
before the reader with remarkable fidelity and dramatic 
power by one who was the Emperor's confidant and the 
sharer of his thoughts and fortunes. The picture of the 
man Napoleon is of fascinating interest. Besides this, 
the book is full of the most interesting anecdotes, hon 
mots, character sketches, dramatic incidents, and the 
gossip of court and camp at one of the most stirring 
epochs of history, taken from contemporary Memoirs and 
incorporated in the work by the editors of the different 
editions. 



List of Portraits, Etc. 



NAPOLEON I. 
LETITIA RAMOLINO 
THE EMPRESS JOSEPH- 
INE 
EUGENE BEAUHARNAIS 
GENERAL KLEBER 
MARSHAL LANNES 
TALLEYRAND 
GENERAL DUROC 
MURAT, KING OF NAPLES 
GENERAL DESAIX 
GENERAL MOREAU 

HORTENSE BEAUHAR- 
NAIS 

THE EMPRESS JOSEPH- 
INE 

NAPOLEON I. 



THE DUG D'ENGHIEN 

GENERAL PICHEGRU 

MARSHAL NEY 

CAULAINCOURT, DUKE 
OF VICENZA 

MARSHAL DAVOUST 
CHARGE OF THE CUIR- 
ASSIERS AT EYLAU 
GENERAL JUNOT 
MARSHAL SOULT 

THE EMPRESS MARIA 

LOUISA 
GENERAL LASALLE 
COLORED MAP SHOW- 
ING NAPOLEON'S DO- 
MINION 

THE EMPRESS MARIA 
LOUISA 



MARSHAL MASSENA 

MARSHAL MACDONALD 

FAC-SIMILE OF THE EM- 
PEROR'S ABDICATION 
IN 1814 

NAPOLEON I. 

MARSHAL SOUCHET 

THE DUKE OF WELLING- 
TON 

PLANS OF BATTLE OF 
WATERLOO 

MARSHAL BLUCHER 

MARSHAL GOUVION ST. 
CrR 

MARSHAL NEY 

THE KING OF ROME 

GENERAL BESSIERES 



B o urriennf: s '' napole on. ' ' 



"7/" you want sometJiing to read, both interesting and 
amusing, get the M^nioires de Bourrie?me. These are the only 
authentic Memoirs of Napoleon which have yet appeared. The 
style is not brilliant, but that only makes them the more trust- 
worthy ^ — Prince Metternich. 

''The writer was a man of uncommon penetration, 
and he enjoyed opportunities for intimate knowledge of 
Napoleon's life and character such as no other person 
possessed ; and the liveliness of his style renders the 
Memoirs interesting reading from the first page to the 
last. The volumes are enriched with a large number of 
excellent portraits." — The Academy. 

"■ It is a brilliant picture of Napoleon as he appeared 
in his daily life to one who held the unique position of 
friend, Minister and Secretary, depicting the personality 
of the Emperor with extraordinary vividness and truth- 
fulness. It is impossible not to recognize the great 
value of these Memoirs." — New York Times. 

"J/, de Boiirrienne 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 matt before 
us, with all of his personal habits and peculiarities of manner, 
temper and conversation'' — From the Preface. 



THE SET, 4 VOLS., 12M0. IN A BOX, $5.00. 



1^ 



0-1 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



019 624 969 5 



:. 1 1 a f> fi u Mmai«MwtMitmtwntM»i