“I did not omit a syllable.”
“Did you tell him that you had lived in France three years, that you had seen her, had studied her; that she was strong, powerful, prosperous and desirous of peace while prepared for war?”
“I told him all that.”
“Did you add that the war which England is making against France is a senseless war; that the spirit of disorder of which they speak, and which, at the worst, is only the effervescence of freedom too long restrained, which it were wiser to confine to France by means of a general peace; that that peace is the sole cordon sanitaire which can prevent it from crossing our frontiers; and that if the volcano of war is lighted in France, France will spread like lava over foreign lands. Italy is delivered, says the King of England; but from whom? From her liberators. Italy is delivered, but why? Because I conquered Egypt from the Delta to the third Cataract; Italy is delivered because I was no longer in Italy. But—I am here: in a month I can be in Italy. What do I need to win her back from the Alps to the Adriatic? A single battle. Do you know what Masséna is doing in defending Genoa? Waiting for me. Ha! the sovereigns of Europe need war to protect their crowns? Well, my lord, I tell you that I will shake Europe until their crowns tremble on their heads. Want war, do they? Just wait—Bourrienne! Bourrienne!”
The door between the First Consul’s study and the secretary’s office opened precipitately, and Bourrienne rushed in, his face terrified, as though he thought Bonaparte were calling for help. But when he saw him highly excited, crumpling the diplomatic memorandum in one hand and striking with the other on his desk, while Lord Tanlay was standing calm, erect and silent near him, he understood immediately that England’s answer had irritated the First Consul.
“Did you call me, general?” he asked.
“Yes,” said the First Consul, “sit down there and write.”
Then in a harsh, jerky voice, without seeking his words, which, on the contrary, seemed to crowd through the portal of his brain, he dictated the following proclamation:
SOLDIERS!—In promising peace to the French people, I was your
mouthpiece; I know your power.
You are the same men who conquered the Rhine, Holland and Italy,
and granted peace beneath the walls of astounded Vienna.
Soldiers, it is no longer our own frontiers that you have to
defend; it is the enemy’s country you must now invade.
Soldiers, when the time comes, I shall be among you, and
astounded Europe shall remember that you belong to the race
of heroes!
Bourrienne raised his head, expectant, after writing the last words.