Memoirs of Napoleon Bonaparte — Complete
Helena that he admitted a third person on such occasions only that the
blow might resound the farther. That was not his real motive, or the
better way would have been to perform the scene in public. He had other
reasons. I observed that he did not like a 'tête-à-tête'; and when he
expected any one, he would say to me beforehand, "Bourrienne, you may
remain;" and when any one was announced whom he did not expect, as
a minister or a general, if I rose to retire he would say in a
half-whisper, "Stay where you are." Certainly this was not done with the
design of getting what he said reported abroad; for it belonged neither
to my character nor my duty to gossip about what I had heard. Besides,
it may be presumed, that the few who were admitted as witnesses to
the conferences of Napoleon were aware of the consequences attending
indiscreet disclosures under a Government which was made acquainted with
all that was said and done.
Bonaparte entertained a profound dislike of the sanguinary men of the
Revolution, and especially of the regicides. He felt, as a painful
burden, the obligation of dissembling towards them. He spoke to me in
terms of horror of those whole he called the assassins of Louis XVI, and
he was annoyed at the necessity of employing them and treating them with
apparent respect. How many times has he not said to Cambacérès, pinching
him by the ear, to soften, by that habitual familiarity, the bitterness
of the remark, "My dear fellow, your case is clear; if ever the Bourbons
come back you will be hanged!" A forced smile would then relax the livid
countenance of Cambacérès, and was usually the only reply of the Second
Consul, who, however, on one occasion said in my hearing, "Come, come,
have done with this joking."
One thing which gave Bonaparte great pleasure when in the country was to
see a tall, slender woman, dressed in white, walking beneath an alley of
shaded trees. He detested coloured dresses, and especially dark ones.
To fat women he had an invincible antipathy, and he could not endure the
sight of a pregnant woman; it therefore rarely happened that a female in
that situation was invited to his parties. He possessed every requisite
for being what is called in society an agreeable man, except the will to
be so. His manner was imposing rather than pleasing, and those who did
not know him well experienced in his presence an involuntary feeling of
awe. In the drawing-room, where Josephine did the honours with so much
grace and affability, all was gaiety and ease, and no one felt the
presence of a superior; but on Bonaparte's entrance all was changed,
and every eye was directed towards him, to read his humour in his
countenance, whether he intended to be silent or talkative, dull or
cheerful.
He often talked a great deal, and sometimes a little too much; but no
one could tell a story in a more agreeable and interesting way. His
conversation rarely turned on gay or humorous subjects, and never
on trivial matters. He was so fond of argument that in the warmth
of discussion it was easy to draw from him secrets which he was most
anxious to conceal. Sometimes, in a small circle, he would amuse himself
by relating stories of presentiments and apparitions. For this he always
chose the twilight of evening, and he would prepare his hearers for what
was coming by some solemn remark. On one occasion of this kind he said,
in a very grave tone of voice, "When death strikes a person whom we
love, and who is distant from us, a foreboding almost always denotes
the event, and the dying person appears to us at the moment of his
dissolution." He then immediately related the following anecdote: "A
gentleman of the Court of Louis XIV. was in the gallery of Versailles at
the time that the King was reading to his courtiers the bulletin of the
battle of Friedlingen gained by Villars. Suddenly the gentleman saw, at
the farther end of the gallery, the ghost of his son, who served under
Villars. He exclaimed, 'My son is no more!' and next moment the King
named him among the dead."
When travelling Bonaparte was particularly talkative. In the warmth
of his conversation, which was always characterised by original and
interesting ideas, he sometimes dropped hints of his future views,
or, at least, he said things which were calculated to disclose what
he wished to conceal. I took the liberty of mentioning to him this
indiscretion, and far from being offended, he acknowledged his mistake,
adding that he was not aware he had gone so far. He frankly avowed this
want of caution when at St. Helena.
When in good humour his usual tokens of kindness consisted in a little
rap on the head or a slight pinch of the ear. In his most friendly
conversations with those whom he admitted into his intimacy he would
say, "You are a fool"--"a simpleton"--"a ninny"--"a blockhead." These,
and a few other words of like import, enabled him to vary his catalogue
of compliments; but he never employed them angrily, and the tone in
which they were uttered sufficiently indicated that they were meant in
kindness.
Bonaparte had many singular habits and tastes. Whenever he experienced
any vexation, or when any unpleasant thought occupied his mind, he would
hum something which was far from resembling a tune, for his voice was
very unmusical. He would, at the same time, seat himself before the
writing-table, and swing back in his chair so far that I have often been
fearful of his falling.
He would then vent his ill-humour on the right arm of his chair,
mutilating it with his penknife, which he seemed to keep for no other
purpose. I always took care to keep good pens ready for him; for, as
it was my business to decipher his writing, I had a strong interest in
doing what I could to make it legible.
The sound of bells always produced in Bonaparte pleasurable sensations,
which I could never account for. When we were at Malmaison, and walking
in the alley leading to the plain of Ruel, how many times has the bell
of the village church interrupted our most serious conversations!
He would stop, lest the noise of our footsteps should drown any portion
of the delightful sound. He was almost angry with me because I did not
experience the impressions he did. So powerful was the effect produced
upon him by the sound of these bells that his voice would falter as he
said, "Ah! that reminds me of the first years I spent at Brienne! I was
then happy!" When the bells ceased he would resume the course of his
speculations, carry himself into futurity, place a crown on his head,
and dethrone kings.
Nowhere, except on the field of battle, did I ever see Bonaparte more
happy than in the gardens of Malmaison. At the commencement of the
Consulate we used to go there every Saturday evening, and stay the whole
of Sunday, and sometimes Monday. Bonaparte used to spend a considerable
part of his time in walking and superintending the improvements which
he had ordered. At first he used to make excursions about the
neighbourhood, but the reports of the police disturbed his natural
confidence, and gave him reason to fear the attempts of concealed
royalist partisans.
During the first four or five days that Bonaparte spent at Malmaison
he amused himself after breakfast with calculating the revenue of that
domain. According to his estimates it amounted to 8000 francs. "That is
not bad!" said he; "but to live here would require an income of 30,000
livres!" I could not help smiling to see him seriously engaged in such a
calculation.
Bonaparte had no faith in medicine. He spoke of it as an art
entirely conjectural, and his opinion on this subject was fired and
incontrovertible. His vigorous mind rejected all but demonstrative
proofs.
He had little memory for proper names, words, or dates, but he had a
wonderful recollection of facts and places. I recollect that, on going
from Paris to Toulon, he pointed out to me ten places calculated for
great battles, and he never forgot them. They were memoranda of his
first youthful journeys.
Bonaparte was insensible to the charms of poetic harmony. He had not
even sufficient ear to feel the rhythm of poetry, and he never could
recite a verse without violating the metre; yet the grand ideas of
poetry charmed him. He absolutely worshipped Corneille; and, one day,
after having witnessed a performance of 'Cinna', he said to me, "If
a man like Corneille were living in my time I would make him my Prime
Minister. It is not his poetry that I most admire; it is his powerful
understanding, his vast knowledge of the human heart, and his profound
policy!" At St. Helena he said that he would have made Corneille a
prince; but at the time he spoke to me of Corneille he had no thought of
making either princes or kings.
Gallantry to women was by no means a trait in Bonaparte's character. He
seldom said anything agreeable to females, and he frequently addressed
to them the rudest and most extraordinary remarks. To one he would say,
"Heavens, how red your elbows are!" To another, "What an ugly headdress
you have got!" At another time he would say, "Your dress is none of
the cleanest..... Do you ever change your gown? I have seen you in that
twenty times!" He showed no mercy to any who displeased him on these
points. He often gave Josephine directions about her toilet, and the
exquisite taste for which she was distinguished might have helped to
make him fastidious about the costume of other ladies. At first he
looked to elegance above all things: at a later period he admired luxury
and splendour, but he always required modesty. He frequently expressed
his disapproval of the low-necked dresses which were so much in fashion
at the beginning of the Consulate.
Bonaparte did not love cards, and this was very fortunate for those who
were invited to his parties; for when he was seated at a card-table,
as he sometimes thought himself obliged to be, nothing could exceed the
dulness of the drawing-room either at the Luxembourg or the Tuileries.
When, on the contrary, he walked about among the company, all were
pleased, for he usually spoke to everybody, though he preferred the
conversation of men of science, especially those who had been with him
in in Egypt; as for example, Monge and Berthollet. He also liked to
talk with Chaptal and Lacépède, and with Lemercier, the author of
'Agamemnon'.
Bonaparte was seen to less advantage in a drawing-room than at the head
of his troops. His military uniform became him much better than the
handsomest dress of any other kind. His first trials of dress-coats were
unfortunate. I have been informed that the first time he wore one he
kept on his black cravat. This incongruity was remarked to him, and he
replied, "So much the better; it leaves me something of a military air,
and there is no harm in that." For my own part, I neither saw the black
cravat nor heard this reply.
The First Consul paid his own private bills very punctually; but he was
always tardy in settling the accounts of the contractors who bargained
with Ministers for supplies for the public service. He put off these
payments by all sorts of excuses and shufflings. Hence arose immense
arrears in the expenditure, and the necessity of appointing a committee
of liquidation. In his opinion the terms contractor and rogue were
synonymous. All that he avoided paying them he regarded as a just
restitution to himself; and all the sums which were struck off from
their accounts he regarded as so much deducted from a theft. The less a
Minister paid out of his budget the more Bonaparte was pleased with him;
and this ruinous system of economy can alone explain the credit which
Decrès so long enjoyed at the expense of the French navy.
On the subject of religion Bonaparte's ideas were very vague. "My