When I arrived Madame Bonaparte was in the garden with Madame de Rémusat, who was her favourite from the similarity of disposition which existed between them.
Madame de Rémusat was the daughter of the Minister Vergennes, and sister to Madame de Nansouty, whom I had sometimes seen with Josephine, but not so frequently as her elder sister. I found the ladies in the avenue which leads to Ruel, and saluted Josephine by inquiring respecting the health of Her Majesty. Never can I forget the tone in which she replied: "Ah! Bourrienne, I entreat that you will suffer me, at least here, to forget that I am an Empress." As she had not a thought concealed from Madame de Rémusat except some domestic vexations, of which probably I was the only confidant, we conversed with the same freedom as if alone, and it is easy to define that the subject of our discourse regarded Bonaparte.
After having spoken of her intended journey to Belgium, Josephine said to me, "What a pity, Bourrienne, that the past cannot be recalled! He departed in the happiest disposition: he has bestowed some pardons and I am satisfied that but for those accursed politics he would have pardoned a far greater number. I would have said much more, but I endeavoured to conceal my chagrin because the slightest contradiction only renders him the more obstinate. Now, when in the midst of his army, he will forget everything. How much have I been afflicted that I was not able to obtain a favourable answer to all the petitions which were addressed to me. That good Madame de Monteason came from Romainville to St. Cloud to solicit the pardon of MM. de Riviere and de Polignac; we succeeded in gaining an audience for Madame de Polignac; . . . how beautiful she is! Bonaparte was greatly affected on beholding her; he said to her, 'Madame, since it was only my life your husband menaced, I may pardon him.' You know Napoleon, Bourrienne; you know that he is not naturally cruel; it is his counsellors and flatterers who have induced him to commit so many villainous actions. Rapp has behaved extremely well; he went to the Emperor, and would not leave him till he had obtained the pardon of another of the condemned, whose name I do not recollect. How much these Polignacs have interested me! There will be then at least some families who will owe him gratitude! Strive, if it be possible, to throw a veil over the past; I am sufficiently miserable in my anticipations of the future. Rest assured, my dear Bourrienne, that I shall not fail to exert myself during our stay in Belgium in your behalf, and inform you of the result. Adieu!"
During the festival in celebration of the 14th of July, which I have already alluded to, the Emperor before leaving the Hotel des Invalides had announced that he would go in person to distribute the decorations of the Legion of Honour to the army assembled in the camp of Boulogne. He was not long before he fulfilled his promise. He left St. Cloud on the 18th and travelled with such rapidity that the next morning, whilst every one was busy with preparations for his reception, he was already at that port, in the midst of the labourers, examining the works. He seemed to multiply himself by his inconceivable activity, and one might say that he was present everywhere.
At the Emperor's departure it was generally believed at Paris that the distribution of the crosses at the camp of Boulogne was only a pretext, and that Bonaparte had at length gone to carry into execution the project of an invasion of England, which every body supposed he contemplated. It was, indeed, a pretext. The Emperor wished to excite more and more the enthusiasm of the army—to show himself to the military invested in his new dignity, to be present at some grand manoeuvres, and dispose the army to obey the first signal he might give. How indeed, on beholding such great preparations, so many transports created, as it were, by enchantment, could any one have supposed that he did not really intend to attempt a descent on England? People almost fancied him already in London; it was known that all the army corps echelloned on the coast from Maples to Ostend were ready to embark. Napoleon's arrival in the midst of his troops inspired them, if possible, with a new impulse. The French ports on the Channel had for a long period been converted into dockyards and arsenals, where works were carried on with that inconceivable activity which Napoleon knew so well how to inspire. An almost incredible degree of emulation prevailed amongst the commanders of the different camps, and it descended from rank to rank to the common soldiers and even to the labourers.
As every one was eager to take advantage of the slightest effects of chance, and exercised his ingenuity in converting them into prognostics of good fortune for the Emperor, those who had access to him did not fail to call his attention to some remains of a Roman camp which had been discovered at the Tour d'Ordre, where the Emperor's tent was pitched. This was considered an evident proof that the French Caesar occupied the camp which the Roman Caesar had formerly constructed to menace Great Britain. To give additional force to this allusion, the Tour d'Ordre resumed the name of Caesar's Tower. Some medals of William the Conqueror, found in another spot, where, perhaps, they had been buried for the purpose of being dug up, could not fail to satisfy the most incredulous that Napoleon must conquer England.
It was not far from Caesar's Tower that 80,000 men of the camps of Boulogne and Montreuil, under the command of Marshal Soult, were assembled in a vast plain to witness the distribution of the crosses of the Legion of Honour impressed with the Imperial effigy. This plain, which I saw with Bonaparte in our first journey to the coast, before our departure to Egypt, was circular and hollow; and in the centre was a little hill. This hill formed the Imperial throne of Bonaparte in the midst of his soldiers. There he stationed himself with his staff and around this centre of glory the regiments were drawn up in lines and looked like so many diverging rays. From this throne, which had been erected by the hand of nature, Bonaparte delivered in a loud voice the same form of oath which he had pronounced at the Hotel des Invalides a few days before. It was the signal for a general burst of enthusiasm, and Rapp, alluding to this ceremony, told me that he never saw the Emperor appear more pleased. How could he be otherwise? Fortune then seemed obedient to his wishes. A storm came on during this brilliant day, and it was apprehended that part of the flotilla would have suffered.
Bonaparte quitted the hill from which he had distributed the crosses and proceeded to the port to direct what measures should be taken, when upon his arrival the storm—
—[The following description of the incident when Napoleon nearly
occasioned the destruction of the Boulogne flotilla was forwarded to
the 'Revue Politique et Litteraire' from a private memoir. The
writer, who was an eye-witness, says—
One morning, when the Emperor was mounting his horse, he announced
that he intended to hold a review of his naval forces, and gave the
order that the vessels which lay in the harbour should alter their
positions, as the review was to be held on the open sea. He started
on his usual ride, giving orders that everything should be arranged
on his return, the time of which he indicated. His wish was
communicated to Admiral Bruix, who responded with imperturbable
coolness that he was very sorry, but that the review could not take
place that day. Consequently not a vessel was moved. On his return
back from his ride the Emperor asked whether all was ready. He was
told what the Admiral had said. Twice the answer had to be repeated
to him before he could realise its nature, and then, violently
stamping his foot on the ground, he sent for the Admiral. The
Emperor met him halfway. With eyes burning with rage, he exclaimed
in an excited voice, "Why have my orders not been executed?" With
respectful firmness Admiral Bruix replied, "Sire, a terrible storm
is brewing. Your Majesty may convince yourself of it; would you
without need expose the lives of so many men?" The heaviness of the
atmosphere and the sound of thunder in the distance more than
justified the fears of the Admiral. "Sir, said the Emperor, getting
more and more irritated, "I have given the orders once more; why
have they not been executed? The consequences concern me alone.
Obey!" 'Sire, I will not obey,' replied the Admiral. "You are
insolent!" And the Emperor, who still held his riding-whip in his
hand, advanced towards the admiral with a threatening gesture.
Admiral Bruix stepped back and put his hand on the sheath of his
sword and said, growing very pale, "sire, take care!" The whole
suite stood paralysed with fear. The Emperor remained motionless
for some time, his hand lifted up, his eyes fixed on the Admiral,
who still retained his menacing attitude. At last the Emperor threw
his whip on the floor. M. Bruix took his hand off his sword, and
with uncovered head awaited in silence the result of the painful
scene. Rear-Admiral Magon was then ordered to see that the
Emperor's orders were instantly executed. "As for you, sir," said
the Emperor, fixing his eyes on Admiral Bruix, you leave Boulogne
within twenty-four hours and depart for Holland. Go!" M. Magon
ordered the fatal movement of the fleet on which the Emperor had
insisted. The first arrangements had scarcely been made when the
sea became very high. The black sky was pierced by lightning, the
thunder rolled and every moment the line of vessels was broken by
the wind, and shortly after, that which the Admiral had foreseen
came to pass, and the most frightful storm dispersed the vessels in
each a way that it seamed impossible to save them. With bent head,
arms crossed, and a sorrowful look in his face, the Emperor walked
up and down on the beach, when suddenly the most terrible cries were
heard. More than twenty gunboats filled with soldiers and sailors
were being driven towards the shore, and the unfortunate men were
vainly fighting against the furious waves, calling for help which
nobody could give them. Deeply touched by the spectacle and the
heart-rending cries and lamentations of the multitude which had
assembled on the beach, the Emperor, seeing his generals and
officers tremble with horror, attempted to set an example of
devotion, and, in spite of all efforts to keep him back, he threw
himself into a boat, saying, "Let me go! let me go! they must be
brought out of this." In a moment the boat was filled with water.
The waves poured over it again and again, and the Emperor was
drenched. One wave larger than the others almost threw him
overboard and his hat was carried sway. Inspired by so much
courage, officers, soldiers, seamen, and citizens tried to succour
the drowning, some in boats, some swimming. But, alas! only a small
number could be saved of the unfortunate men. The following day
more than 200 bodies were thrown ashore, and with them the hat of
the conqueror of Marengo. That sad day was one of desolation for
Boulogne and for the camp. The Emperor groaned under the burden of
an accident which he had to attribute solely to his own obstinacy.
Agents were despatched to all parts of the town to subdue with gold
the murmurs which were ready to break out into a tumult.]—
—ceased as if by enchantment. The flotilla entered the port safe and sound and he went back to the camp, where the sports and amusements prepared for the soldiers commenced, and in the evening the brilliant fireworks which were let off rose in a luminous column, which was distinctly seen from the English coast.—[It appears that Napoleon was so well able to cover up this fiasco that not even Bourrienne ever heard the true story. D.W.]