he lingered at Dresden uncertain what to do, Maret delayed for eight days the retreat it was so important to make, because he had not the courage to inform the Emperor of the defection of Bavaria, a piece of intelligence it was most necessary he should learn. An anecdote of M. de Talleyrand may be related here, as a sample of the skill with which that astute minister managed Bonaparte, and also of the completeness of his own ascendancy.
A treaty of peace between England and France was being arranged at Amiens in the spring of 1810. Certain difficulties which had arisen between the plenipotentiaries were giving rise to some little uneasiness, and Bonaparte was anxiously expecting dispatches. A courier arrived, and brought to the Minister of Foreign Affairs the much-desired signature. M. de Talleyrand put it in his pocket and went to the First Consul. He appeared before him with that immovable countenance which he wears on every occasion. For a whole hour he remained with Bonaparte, transacting a number of important matters of business, and when all was done, “Now,” said he, smiling, “I am going to give you a great pleasure; the treaty is signed, and here it is.” Bonaparte was astounded at this fashion of announcing the matter. “Why did you not tell me at once?” he demanded. “Ah,” replied M. de Talleyrand, “because then you would not have listened to me on any other subject. When you are pleased, you are not always pleasant.” The self-control displayed in this reticence struck the Consul, “and,” added M. de Talleyrand, “did not make him angry, because he saw immediately how far it might be made useful to himself.”
Another person, who was really more attached to Bonaparte, and quite as demonstrative in his admiration for him as M. Maret, was Marshal Berthier, Prince of Wagram. He had served in the campaign in Egypt, and had become strongly attached to his General. Berthier’s friendship for him was so great that, little as Bonaparte valued anything coming from the heart, he could not but respond to it in some degree. The sentiment was, however, very unequally divided between them, and was used by the powerful one of the two as a means of exaction. One day Bonaparte said to M. de Talleyrand: “I really can not understand how a relation that bears some appearance of friendship has established itself between Berthier and me. I don’t indulge in useless sentiments, and Berthier is so uninteresting that I do not know why I should care at all about him; and yet, when I think of it, I believe I really have some liking for him.” “If you do care about him,” replied M. de Talleyrand, “do you know the reason why? It is because he believes in you.”
These anecdotes, which I set down as they recur to my memory, did not come to my knowledge till a much later period, when my greater intimacy with M. de Talleyrand revealed to me the chief traits in Bonaparte’s character. At first I was completely deceived by him, and was very happy to be so. I knew he had genius, I saw that he was disposed to make amends for the passing wrongs he did his wife, and I remarked his friendship for Berthier with pleasure; he caressed little Napoleon in my presence, and seemed to love him. I regarded him as accessible to kindly natural feelings, and my youthful imagination arrayed him in all those qualities which I desired to find in him. It is only just to him also to admit that excess of power intoxicated him; that his passions were increased in violence by the facility with which he was enabled to gratify them; but that while he was young, and as yet uncertain of the future, he frequently hesitated between the open exhibition of vice and, at least, the affectation of virtue.
After the declaration of war with England, somebody (I do not know who) suggested to Bonaparte the idea of an invasion by means of flat-bottomed boats. I can not say with certainty whether he really believed in this plan, or whether he only used it as a pretext for collecting and increasing his army, which he assembled at the camp of Boulogne. So many people maintained that a descent upon the shores of England in this way was practicable, that it is quite possible he may have thought fate had a success of the kind in store for him. Enormous works were begun in our ports, and in some of the Belgian towns; the army marched to the coast, and Generals Soult and Ney were sent to command it at different points. The idea of a conquest of England fired the general imagination; and even the English themselves began to feel uneasy, and thought it necessary to make some preparations for defense. Attempts were made to excite the public mind against the English by dramatic representations; scenes from the life of William the Conqueror were represented at the theatres. The conquest of Hanover was easily effected, but then came the blockade of our ports that did us so much harm.
During the summer of this year (1803) a journey to Belgium was arranged, and Bonaparte required that it should be made with great magnificence. He had little trouble in persuading Mme. Bonaparte to take with her everything that could make an impression on the people to whom she was about to exhibit herself. Mme. Talhouet and I were selected to accompany her, and the Consul gave me thirty thousand francs for those expenses which he prescribed. He set out on the 24th of June, with a cortège of several carriages, two generals of his guard, his aides-de-camp, Duroc, two Prefects of the Palace (M. de Rémusat and a Piedmontese named Salmatoris), and commenced the journey in great pomp.
Before we set out, we went for one day to Mortefontaine, an estate which had been purchased by Joseph Bonaparte. All the family were assembled there, and a strange occurrence took place. We passed the morning in walking about the gardens, which are beautiful. When dinner hour approached, a question arose about the placing of the guests. The elder Mme. Bonaparte was at Mortefontaine, and Joseph told his brother that he intended to take his mother in to dinner, and to place her on his right hand, while Mme. Bonaparte was to sit on his left. The First Consul took offense at this arrangement, which placed his wife in the second rank, and insisted that his brother should transfer their mother to that position. Joseph refused, and no argument could induce him to give way. When dinner was announced, Joseph took his mother’s hand, and Lucien escorted Mme. Bonaparte. The First Consul, incensed at this opposition to his will, hurriedly crossed the room, took the arm of his wife, passed out before every one, seated her beside himself, and then, turning to me, ordered me to place myself near him. The company were all greatly embarrassed, I even more so than the others; and Mme. Joseph Bonaparte, to whom some politeness was due, found herself at the bottom of the table, as if she were not one of the family.
The stiffness and gloom of that dinner-party may be easily imagined. The brothers were angry, Mme. Bonaparte was wretched, and I was excessively embarrassed by my prominent position. During the dinner Bonaparte did not address a single member of his family; he occupied himself with his wife, talked to me, and chose this opportune occasion to inform me that he had that morning restored to my cousin, the Vicomte de Vergennes, certain forests which had long been sequestrated on account of his emigration, but which had not been sold. I was touched by this mark of his kindness, but it was very vexatious to me that he selected such a moment to tell me of it, because the gratitude which I would otherwise have gladly expressed, and the joy which I really felt, made me appear to the observers of the little scene to be talking freely to him, while I was really in a state of painful constraint. The remainder of the day passed drearily, as may be supposed, and we left Mortefontaine on the morrow.
An accident which happened at the beginning of our journey increased the regard which I was then happy to feel for Bonaparte and his wife. He traveled with her and one of the generals of his guard, and his carriage was preceded by one containing Duroc and three aides-de-camp. A third carriage was occupied by Mme. Talhouet, M. de Rémusat, and myself; two others followed. Shortly after we had left Compiègne, where we visited a military school, on our way to Amiens, our carriage was violently overturned. Mme. Talhouet’s head was badly cut; M. de Rémusat and I were only bruised. With some trouble we were extricated from the carriage. Bonaparte, who was on in front, was told of this accident; he at once alighted from his carriage, and with Mme. Bonaparte, who was much frightened about me, hastened to join us at a cottage, whither we had been taken. I was so terrified that, as soon as I saw Bonaparte, I begged him with tears to send me back to Paris; I already disliked traveling as much as did the pigeon of La Fontaine, and in my distress I cried out that I must return to my mother and my children.
Bonaparte said a few words intended to calm me; but, finding that he could not succeed in doing so, he took my arm in his, gave orders that Mme. Talhouet should be placed in one of the carriages, and, after satisfying himself that M. de Rémusat was none the worse for the accident, led me, frightened as I was, to his own carriage, and made me get in with him. We set off again, and he took pains to cheer up his wife and me, and told us, laughingly, to kiss each