CHAPTER XVII.

1803.

The First Consul's presentiments respecting the duration of peace--

England's uneasiness at the prosperity of France--Bonaparte's real

wish for war--Concourse of foreigners in Paris--Bad faith of

England--Bonaparte and Lord Whitworth--Relative position of France

and England-Bonaparte's journey to the seaboard departments--

Breakfast at Compiegne--Father Berton--Irritation excited by the

presence of Bouquet--Father Berton's derangement and death--Rapp

ordered to send for me--Order countermanded.

The First Consul never anticipated a long peace with England. He wished

for peace merely because, knowing it to be ardently desired by the

people, after ten years of war he thought it would increase his

popularity and afford him the opportunity of laying the foundation of

his government. Peace was as necessary to enable him to conquer the

throne of France as war was essential to secure it, and to enlarge its

base at the expense of the other thrones of Europe. This was the secret

of the peace of Amiens, and of the rupture which so suddenly followed,

though that rupture certainly took place sooner than the First Consul

wished. On the great questions of peace and war Bonaparte entertained

elevated ideas; but in discussions on the subject he always declared

himself in favour of war. When told of the necessities of the people,

of the advantages of peace, its influence on trade, the arts, national

industry, and every branch of public prosperity, he did not attempt to

deny the argument; indeed, he concurred in it; but he remarked, that all

those advantages were only conditional, so long as England was able

to throw the weight of her navy into the scale of the world, and to

exercise the influence of her gold in all the Cabinets of Europe. Peace

must be broken; since it was evident that England was determined

to break it. Why not anticipate her? Why allow her to have all the

advantages of the first step? We must astonish Europe! We must thwart

the policy of the Continent! We must strike a great and unexpected blow.

Thus reasoned the First Consul, and every one may judge whether his

actions agreed with his sentiments.

The conduct of England too well justified the foresight of Bonaparte's

policy; or rather England, by neglecting to execute her treaties, played

into Bonaparte's hand, favoured his love for war, and justified the

prompt declaration of hostilities in the eyes of the French nation, whom

he wished to persuade that if peace were broken it would be against his

wishes. England was already at work with the powerful machinery of

her subsidies, and the veil beneath which she attempted to conceal her

negotiations was still sufficiently transparent for the lynx eye of the

First Consul. It was in the midst of peace that all those plots were

hatched, while millions who had no knowledge of their existence were

securely looking forward to uninterrupted repose.

Since the Revolution Paris had never presented such a spectacle as

during the winter of 1802-3. At that time the concourse of foreigners

in the French capital was immense. Everything wore the appearance of

satisfaction, and the external signs of public prosperity. The visible

regeneration in French society exceedingly annoyed the British Ministry.

The English who flocked to the Continent discovered France to be very

different from what she was described to be by the English papers. This

caused serious alarm on the other side of the Channel, and the English

Government endeavoured by unjust complaints to divert attention from

just dissatisfaction, which its own secret intrigues excited. The King

of England sent a message to Parliament, in which he spoke of armaments

preparing in the ports of France, and of the necessity of adopting

precautions against meditated aggressions. This instance of bad faith

highly irritated the First Consul, who one day, in a fit of displeasure,

thus addressed Lord Whitworth in the salon, where all the foreign

Ambassadors were assembled:

"What is the meaning of this? Are you then tired of peace? Must Europe

again be deluged with blood? Preparations for war indeed! Do you think

to overawe us by this? You shall see that France may be conquered,

perhaps destroyed, but never intimidated--never!"

The English Ambassador was astounded at this unexpected sally, to which

he made no reply. He contented himself with writing to his Government an

account of an interview in which the First Consul had so far forgotten

himself,-whether purposely or not I do not pretend to say.

That England wished for war there could be no doubt. She occupied Malta,

it is true, but she had promised to give it up, though she never had any

intention of doing so. She was to have evacuated Egypt, yet there she

still remained; the Cape of Good Hope was to have been surrendered, but

she still retained possession of it. England had signed, at Amiens, a

peace which she had no intention of maintaining. She knew the hatred

of the Cabinets of Europe towards France, and she was sure, by her

intrigues and subsidies, of arming them on her side whenever her plans

reached maturity. She saw France powerful and influential in Europe, and

she knew the ambitious views of the First Consul, who, indeed, had taken

little pains to conceal them.

The First Consul, who had reckoned on a longer duration of the peace of

Amiens, found himself at the rupture of the treaty in an embarrassing

situation. The numerous grants of furloughs, the deplorable condition of

the cavalry, and the temporary absence of artillery, in consequence of

a project for refounding all the field-pieces, caused much anxiety

to Bonaparte. He had recourse to the conscription to fill up the

deficiencies of the army; and the project of refounding the artillery

was abandoned. Supplies of money were obtained from the large towns,

and Hanover, which was soon after occupied, furnished abundance of good

horses for mounting the cavalry.

War had now become inevitable; and as soon as it was declared the

First Consul set out to visit Belgium and the seaboard departments to

ascertain the best means of resisting the anticipated attacks of the

English. In passing through Compiegne he received a visit from Father

Berton, formerly principal of the military school of Brienne. He was

then rector of the school of arts at Compiegne, a situation in which he

had been placed by Bonaparte. I learned the particulars of this visit

through Josephine. Father Berton, whose primitive simplicity of manner

was unchanged since the time when he held us under the authority of his

ferule, came to invite Bonaparte and Josephine to breakfast with him,

which invitation was accepted. Father Berton had at that time living

with him one of our old comrades of Brienne, named Bouquet; but he

expressly forbade him to show himself to Bonaparte or any one of his

suite, because Bouquet, who had been a commissary at headquarters

in Italy, was in disgrace with the First Consul. Bouquet promised

to observe Father Berton's injunctions, but was far from keeping his

promise. As soon as he saw Bonaparte's carriage drive up, he ran to

the door and gallantly handed out Josephine. Josephine, as she took his

hand, said, "Bouquet,--you have ruined yourself!" Bonaparte, indignant

at what he considered an unwarrantable familiarity, gave way to one of

his uncontrollable fits of passion, and as soon as he entered the room

where the breakfast was laid, he seated himself, and then said to his

wife in an imperious tone, "Josephine, sit there!" He then commenced

breakfast, without telling Father Becton to sit down, although a third

plate had been laid for him. Father Becton stood behind his old pupil's

chair apparently confounded at his violence. The scene produced such an

effect on the old man that he became incapable of discharging his duties

at Compiegne. He retired to Rheims, and his intellect soon after became

deranged. I do not pretend to say whether this alienation of mind was

caused by the occurrence I have just related, and the account of which

I received from Josephine. She was deeply afflicted at what had passed.

Father Berton died insane. What I heard from Josephine was afterwards

confirmed by the brother of Father Becton. The fact is, that in

proportion as Bonaparte acquired power he was the more annoyed at the

familiarity of old companions; and, indeed, I must confess that their

familiarity often appeared very ridiculous.

The First Consul's visit to the northern coast took place towards the

end of the year 1803, at which time the English attacked the Dutch

settlements of Surinam, Demerara, and Essequibo, and a convention of

neutrality was concluded between France, Spain, and Portugal. Rapp

accompanied the First Consul, who attentively inspected the preparations

making for a descent on England, which it was never his intention to

effect, as will be shortly shown.

On the First Consul's return I learned from Rapp that I had been spoken

of during the journey, and in the following way:--Bonaparte, being at

Boulogne, wanted some information which no one there could give, him.

Vexed at receiving no satisfactory answer to his inquiries he called

Rapp, and said, "Do you know, Rapp, where Bourrienne is?"--"General, he

is in Paris."--"Write to him to come here immediately, and send off one

of my couriers with the letter." The rumour of the First Consul's sudden

recollection of me spread like lightning, and the time required to write

the letter and despatch the courier was more than sufficient for

the efforts of those whom my return was calculated to alarm. Artful

representations soon checked these spontaneous symptoms of a return to

former feelings and habits. When Rapp carried to the First Consul

the letter he had been directed to write the order was countermanded.

However, Rapp advised me not to leave Paris, or if I did, to mention the

place where I might be found, so that Duroc might have it in his power

to seize on any favourable circumstance without delay. I was well aware

of the friendship of both Rapp and Duroc, and they could as confidently

rely on mine.