Joseph nervously cleared his throat. "I spoke to Talleyrand today. The ex-Minister thinks that Director Sieyès might not be averse to supporting a change in the Constitution."
"I am familiar with Talleyrand's point of view. I am also cognizant of the aims of various Jacobins. I can inform you, too, that the Royalists are concentrating all their hopes on a dictator. As far as I am concerned, I have sworn loyalty to the
Republic and under all circumstances will uphold our Constitution. Is this answer clear enough?"
"You realize that this lack of activity in Egypt can drive any man of Napoleon's ambition to desperation. Besides, my brother has important private matters to settle in Paris. He intends to get a divorce. Josephine's unfaithfulness was a great blow to him. Supposing that in his despair my brother came to the conclusion that he must return—what then?"
Jean-Baptiste's hand gripped mine like iron, but just for a moment. He relaxed, and I heard him say quietly, "As Minister of War I should be obliged to place your brother before a court martial; and I assume that he would be condemned and shot as a deserter."
"But Napoleon, as a passionate patriot, can no longer remain in Africa . . ."
"A supreme commander's place is with his troops. He led these troops into the desert, and he must remain with them until a way has been found to bring them back. Even a civilian like yourself must see this, M. Bonaparte."
The silence got increasingly oppressive.
'Your novel is so exciting, Joseph," I said finally.
"Yes, everyone has congratulated me," Joseph answered— with his usual modesty—and at last rose to go. Jean-Baptiste accompanied him downstairs.
I tried to sleep. Half-asleep, I remembered a little girl who had raced with a scrawny, insignificant-looking officer all the way to a hedge. The distorted face of the officer was frightening in the moonlight. "I, for example—I know my destiny," the officer had said. The girl had laughed. "You will believe in me, Eugénie, whatever happens?"
He would come back from Egypt. I know him; he will come back
and destroy the Republic if he has a chance. He cares no
thing for the Republic, or for the rights of its citizens; nor co
uld he understand a man like Jean-Baptiste. He never knew a
man like him. . . . . "My little daughter, whenever and whe
rever in the future men may seek to deprive their brothers of
liberty and equality, no one can say of them: 'Father for
give them for they know not what they do.'" Jean-Baptiste and Papa would have understood each other.
When the clock struck eleven, Marie came in, lifted Oscar from his cradle and put him at my breast. Jean-Baptiste came up, too; he knows when I give Oscar his night feeding.
"He will come back, Jean-Baptiste," I said.
"Who?"
"The godfather of our son. How will you handle it?"
"If I have the authority, I shall have him shot."
"And—if not?"
"Then he will probably seize the authority and have me shot. Good night, my darling."
"Good night, Jean-Baptiste."
"But don't worry about it, little one. I'm only joking."
"I understand, Jean-Baptiste. Good night."
Paris, 18 Brumaire of the Year VII
(In other countries November 9, 1799.
Our Republic has a new Constitution)
He has come back.
And today he succeeded in his coup d'état, and, for the last few hours, has been head of the State. Several deputies and generals have been arrested. Jean-Baptiste says that any moment we may expect the state police to search our house. It would be unspeakably awful for me if Police Director Fouché and then Napoleon, got hold of my diary. The two of them would die laughing at me. . . . So I am quickly, tonight, writing down what has happened. Then I shall lock the book and give it to Julie for safekeeping. Fortunately Julie is the sister-in-law of our new ruler and so, let us hope, Napoleon will never let the police rummage through her bureau drawers.
I'm sitting in the salon of our new home in the rue Cisalpine. I can hear Jean-Baptiste walking up and down in the dining room next to the salon. Up and down, up and down.
I "If you have any compromising papers, give them to me and I'll take them to Julie in the morning with my diary," I called out to him. But Jean-Baptiste shook his head. "I have nothing—what did you call it?—compromising. And Bonaparte knows very well already what I think about his treason."
Fernand busied himself around the room, and I asked him if there were still as many people, in silent groups, in front of our house. He said there were. "What do they want, all these people?"
Fernand put a fresh candle in my candlestick and said, "They want to see what happens to our General. The rumour is that the Jacobins have asked him to take over command of the National Guard, and—" Fernand scratched his head ostentatiously while he decided whether or not to tell the truth. "Yes, and the people think that our General will be arrested. General Moreau has been already."
I got ready for a long night. Jean-Baptiste still paced up and down. While I write, the hours tick away, and we wait.
Yes, he suddenly came back as I was sure he would. Four weeks and two days ago at six o'clock in the morning, an , exhausted messenger dismounted in front of Joseph's house, and reported, "General Bonaparte, accompanied only by his secretary Bourienne, has landed at the port of Frejus. He arrived in a small merchant vessel that eluded the British. He has hired a special coach and will be in Paris at any moment."
Joseph dressed hurriedly, got Lucien up, and the two
brothers stood watch in the rue de la Victoire. Their voices wo
ke Josephine. When she heard the news, she grabbed her n
ewest dress from the wardrobe, packed her cosmetics with tre
mbling hands and ran frantically to her carriage. Then she trie
d to intercept Napoleon south of the city. Not till she was under way did she remember to put on her rouge. The divorce must be stopped; Napoleon must talk to her himself before
Joseph influenced him. However, Josephine's carriage was
hardly out of sight before Napoleon's post horses galloped into the rue de la Victoire. The two carriages had passed other. Napoleon alighted quickly, his brothers ran forward to greet him, everyone patted everyone else's shoulders. Then the three retired to one of the small drawing rooms.
At noon an exhausted Josephine returned. And opened the drawing room door. Napoleon examined her critically from head to toe.
"Madame, we have no more to say to each other. Tomorrow I start divorce proceedings, and I would appreciate your moving to Malmaison immediately. In the meantime I shall look for a new house for myself."
Josephine sobbed loudly. Napoleon turned his back on her, and Lucien escorted her to her bedroom. The three Bonaparte brothers continued their conference. Later, Talleyrand, the former Minister, joined them. Meanwhile the news spread like wildfire through Paris. General Bonaparte had returned victorious from Egypt. Curious people gathered around his house. Enthusiastic recruits joined the crowd shouting, "Long live Bonaparte!" and Napoleon showed himself at the window and waved to the people below.
During all this, Josephine sat on her bed upstairs dissolved in tears, while her daughter Hortense tried to interest her in a cup of camomile tea. Not until evening were Bourienne and Napoleon alone. Napoleon began dictating letters to countless deputies and generals to advise them personally of his safe return. Then Hortense appeared—as always gawky and thin, still colourless and shy, but already dressed like a young lady. Her long, hooked nose made her look old for her age.
"Couldn't you speak to Mama, Papa Bonaparte? she pleaded. But Napoleon brushed her aside like a troublesome fly. He didn't dismiss Bourienne until midnight. As he was considering on which of the fragile gold sofas to spend the night, since Josephine was in the bedroom, there was loud sobbing outside the door. He went right over to the door and locked it. Josephine stayed outside sobbing for two whole hours. At last he opened it. Next morning he woke up in Josephine's bedroom.
I got all this straight from Julie, who heard it from Joseph a
nd Bourienne.
"And do you know what Napoleon said to me?" Julie added. "He said, 'Julie, if I divorce Josephine, all Paris will know that she was unfaithful to me and laugh at me. But if I stay with her, everyone will be convinced that I have no reason to doubt my wife, and that the stories about her were merely malicious gossip. I never, under any circumstances, want to be laughed '. . . A worthy point of view, don't you agree, Désirée?" Julie babbled along, "Junot is also back from Egypt. And Eugène de Beauharnais. Officers of the Egyptian Army are landing almost daily in France. Junot told us that Napoleon left a blonde mistress behind in Egypt. A certain Mme Pauline Fourès, whom he calls 'Bellilot.' She's the wife of a young officer and secretly accompanied her husband to Egypt. Imagine —disguised in a man's uniform. When Napoleon first heard from Joseph about Josephine, he paced back and forth in his tent like a madman. Later he summoned this Bellilot and had supper with her."
'What's become of her now?" I asked.
Julie shrugged her shoulders. "They say—Junot, Murat and the others—that Napoleon turned her over to his next in command."
''And how does he look?"
"Who? The next in command?"
"Don't be silly, I mean Napoleon, of course."
Julie was thoughtful. "Yes—he has changed. Perhaps it's his hair. He had it cut in Egypt, and his face looks fatter and his features less irregular. But it's not only that—no, I'm sure it's not. Anyway you'll see him yourself on Sunday; you're dining at Mortefontaine, aren't you?"
Prominent Parisians have a country house, and poets and writ
ers some sort of garden where in the shade they can relax. So since
Joseph now considers himself both a prominent Pari
sian and a writer, he has bought the charming Villa Mortefontaine
with its huge park. It's an hour's drive from Paris.
And next Sunday we are to dine there with Napoleon and J
osephine.
There certainly would never have been a coup d'état today if Jean-Baptiste had still been Minister of War when Napoleon returned. But shortly before, he had again quarrelled violently with Director Sieyès, and was so angry that he resigned. Now, thinking it all over and realizing that Sieyès supported Napoleon, it seems probable to me that this director foresaw Napoleon's return and intentionally quarrelled with Jean-Baptiste
so
as to force his resignation. Jean-Baptiste's successor dares not have Napoleon court martialled because some of the generals, and the clique of deputies who are supporting Joseph and Lucien, rejoiced too much over Napoleon's return.
During those autumn days Jean-Baptiste had many callers. General Moreau came almost daily and declared that the Army must intervene if Napoleon dared a coup d'état. A group of Jacobin city councillors from Paris marched in and asked if General Bernadotte would take over command of the National Guard if there was trouble. Jean-Baptiste replied he would gladly take over this command, but he must first be accredited to it. This only the Government, that is the Minister of War, can authorize. With that the City Councillors departed disappointed.
On the Sunday morning we were to drive to Mortefontaine, I suddenly heard a well-known voice in our drawing room: "Eugénie—I must see my godson!" I dashed downstairs. There he was, his face tanned, his hair shorn. "We wanted to surprise you and Bernadotte. Since we're all invited to Mortefontaine, Josephine and I thought we'd drive by and take you. I must meet your son, and admire the new house, and I've not yet seen Comrade Bernadotte since my return.
"You look wonderfully well, my dear," said Josephine, standing slender and graceful at the terrace door. Jean-Baptiste appeared, and I departed for the kitchen to ask Marie to make some coffee and serve liqueur. When I came back, Jean-Baptiste had brought Oscar down, and Napoleon was bending over our little bundle, going "ti-ti-ti" and trying to tickle its chin. Oscar didn't care for any of this and began to cry shrilly.
"A new recruit for the Army, Comrade Bernadotte." Na
poleon laughed and clapped Jean-Baptiste genially on the shoulder. I rescued our son from the arms of his father, who held him stiffly away from him and asserted that Oscar was undoubtedly damp.
While we drank Marie's bittersweet coffee, Josephine entangled me in a discussion of roses. Roses are her passion and I have heard that she's laid out a magnificent rose garden at Malmaison. She'd noticed the few miserable little rosebushes planted in front of our terrace, and asked me if and how I cared for them. So I didn't hear the conversation between Jean-Baptiste and Napoleon. But Josephine and I were suddenly silent because Napoleon said, "I'm told that if you were still Minister of War, Comrade Bernadotte, you would have me court martialled, and shot. What particularly have you
against me?"
" I think you know our service regulations as well as I do, Comrade Bonaparte," Jean-Baptiste answered, and, with a
smile, "Far better than I. You had the advantage of attending the War College, and of beginning your active service as an officer. I, as you probably know, served for a long time in the ranks."