Désirée (28 page)

Napoleon leaned forward toward Jean-Baptiste. At that moment the change in him I'd noticed before was startlingly apparent. His short hair made his head seem rounder and his gaunt cheeks fuller. I'd never noticed before how sharply defined his chin was. It jutted out practically square. All this merely emphasized the change; it wasn't the cause of it.

Even his smile was different. This smile I had once loved so much, and later feared, that before rarely and fleetingly transformed his whole stern face was now fixed, compelling and —solicitous. Why this set smile—and for whom? Jean-Baptiste, of course. Jean-Baptiste was to be won over as a friend, a confidant, an enthusiastic ally.

" I have returned from Egypt to place myself again at the disposal of our country, for I consider my Egyptian assignment completed. You say that our frontiers are now secured, that as Minister of War you attempted to set up an army of hundred thousand infantrymen and forty thousand cavalry.

The few thousand men I left behind in Africa can, therefore, mean nothing to the French Army which you have expanded to one hundred and forty thousand men. While a man like me, in the Republic's present desperate situation, could . . ."

"The situation is, not desperate," Jean-Baptiste said calmly.

"No?" Napoleon smiled. "From the moment of my return people on all sides have told me that the Government is not longer in control. The Royalists are active once more in the Vendée, and some of them in Paris are corresponding openly with the Bourbons in England. The Manège Club, on the other hand, is preparing for a Jacobin revolution. You must be aware, Comrade Bernadotte, that the Manège Club plans overthrow the Directorate?"

"You are certainly better informed about the aims and intentions of the Manège Club than I." Jean-Baptiste spoke slowly. "Your brothers, Joseph and Lucien, founded this club and conduct its meetings."

"In my opinion it is the duty of the Army and its leaders to consolidate all our positive forces to maintain civil peace and discipline, and to set up a form of government worthy of the ideals of the Revolution," Napoleon declaimed.

The conversation bored me so I turned again to Josephine. To my surprise she was watching Jean-Baptiste intently as though his answer were of vital importance.

"I would consider any intervention by the Army or its leaders as high treason," Jean-Baptiste declared.

Napoleon kept on smiling fixedly. At the word "high treason," Josephine raised her plucked eyebrows. I poured fresh coffee.

"If men of all parties—I emphasize all parties—came to me and asked for a coalition of all the positive forces in the country, and, with the help of men of integrity, wanted me to draft a new constitution, one setting forth the inalienable right of the people, would you stand by me, Comrade Bernadotte? Could those who want to realize the ideals of the Revolution count on you? Jean-Baptiste Bernadotte—may France count on you?"

Napoleon's glistening grey eyes stared at Jean-Baptiste. With a bang Jean-Baptiste set down his cup.

"Listen to me, Bonaparte. If you are here, not for a cup of coffee, but to ask me to commit high treason, I must ask you to leave my house."

Away went the ingratiating look in Napoleon's eyes. His mechanical smile was weird and uneasy.

"You would also take arms against those of your comrades who might be entrusted by the nation to save the Republic?"

A roar of laughter suddenly broke the tension. Jean-Baptiste shook with hearty and uncontrolled mirth. "Comrade Bonaparte, Comrade Bonaparte! While you were sunning yourself in Egypt, it was suggested to me not once, but at least three or four times, that I play the strong man and, protected by the bayonets of our troops, bring about—how do you and your brothers say it?—a coalition of all the positive forces in the country. I refused. Our Government consists of two chambers with many members, and if these gentlemen and their constituents are dissatisfied, they can ask for a change in the Constitution. I personally believe that, with the present Constitution, we can keep peace at home and defend our frontiers. Should the deputies, however, without undue pressure, decide to change our form of government, this concerns neither me nor the Army."

"But if there should be such pressure, Comrade Bernadotte, if force had to be used, where would you stand?"

Jean-Baptiste rose, strode to the terrace door and gazed out as though reaching for words in the grey autumn sky. Napoleon's look almost bored a hole in the back of his dark uniform. The familiar little vein throbbed at his right temple. Jean-Baptiste turned abruptly, came over to Napoleon and dropped his hand heavily on Napoleon's shoulder.

"Comrade Bonaparte—I have served under your command in
Italy, I have seen how you plan a campaign. I assure you F
rance boasts no better commander in chief. You can take an
old sergeant's word for this. But what the politicians suggest
is unworthy of a general of the Republican Army. Don't
do it, Bonaparte!"

Napoleon was apparently engrossed in the marguerites I had embroidered on the tablecloth. His face was expressionless. Jean-Baptiste let his hand slip from Napoleon's shoulder and quietly returned to his place. "If you persist in this, however, I shall fight you and your followers by force of arms, provided . . ."

Napoleon glanced up. "Provided—what?"

"Provided I am ordered by the recognized Government to do so."

"How stubborn you are," Napoleon murmured. Whereupon Josephine suggested that we ought to start for Mortefontaine.

Julie's house was full of guests. We met Talleyrand and Fouché there, and naturally Napoleon's personal friends, Generals Junot, Murat, Leclerc and Marmont. They were all pleasantly surprised when Napoleon and Jean-Baptiste arrived together.

After dinner Fouché remarked to Jean-Baptiste, "I didn't know that you and General Bonaparte were friends."

"Friends? In any case we are related by marriage," Jean-Baptiste said.

Fouché laughed. "Some people are unusually wise in their choice of relatives."

Jean-Baptiste smiled good-naturedly. "As for me, God knows I didn't choose this relationship."

In the days following all Paris spoke of nothing but whether or not Napoleon would dare try a coup d'état. Once I happened to be driving through the rue de la Victoire and saw many young men standing in front of Napoleon's house beating time and shouting in chorus to the closed windows above "Vive Bonaparte!"

Fernand claims the youths are paid for these demonstrations, but Jean-Baptiste says that many Parisians remember with enthusiasm the large sums of money Napoleon extorted from the conquered Italian states and sent back to Paris.

When I came down early yesterday to the dining room, I knew somehow: Today. Today would be the day. Joseph, clutching one of Jean-Baptiste's uniform buttons, was talking to him feverishly. He wanted Jean-Baptiste to go with him
immediately to see Napoleon. "But you must at least hear what he has to say; then you can see for yourself that he only wants to save the Republic," Joseph said.

Jean-Baptiste answered, "I know his plans, and they have nothing to do with the Republic."

And Joseph, "For the last time—do you refuse to support my brother?"

"For the last time—I refuse to take part in any form of high treason."

Joseph turned to me. "Make him listen to reason, Désirée!" And I, "May I bring you a cup of coffee, Joseph? You seem upset." Joseph refused and departed, and Jean-Baptiste stood at the terrace door, staring at the empty autumn garden.

An hour later, General Moreau, M. Sazzarin, Jean-Baptiste's former secretary, and several other gentlemen from the War Ministry descended on us like an avalanche. They insisted that Jean-Baptiste should take command of the National Guard to prevent Napoleon's entry into the Senate, the Council of Five Hundred.

"Any such order must come from the Government." Jean-Baptiste stood firm.

In the midst of this discussion, in burst more city councillors —the same ones who had been here earlier—and sided with the others' request. Jean-Baptiste patiently explained all over again, "I cannot possibly act under orders from the Paris Municipal Council. Nor from my comrade, dear Moreau. I must be empowered to act by the Government itself. If the directors are no longer in office, my orders must come from the Council of Five Hundred."

Late that afternoon I saw Jean-Baptiste in civilian clothes fo
r the first time. He wore a dark-red coat, too tight and too lo
ng for him, a funny high hat, and an artfully tied yellow nec
kcloth. My General seemed to be dressed for a masquerade.

Where are you going?" I naturally wanted to know.

"For a walk," Jean-Baptiste replied, "only for a walk."

Jean-Baptiste's walk lasted for hours. In the evening Moreau and his other friends returned and waited for him. It was pitch dark when he finally got here. "Well?" we all demanded.

"I went to the Luxembourg and the Tuileries," he reported. "Large concentrations of troops are everywhere, but everything is quiet. Most of the soldiers are veterans of the Italian campaigns; I recognized some of them . . ."

"Napoleon has undoubtedly made them many promises," Moreau said.

Jean-Baptiste smiled bitterly. "He made them these promises long ago through their officers, who are now suddenly all back in Paris. Junot, Masséna, Murat, Marmont, Leclerc— the whole clique around Bonaparte."

"Do you believe that these troops are ready to march against the National Guard?" Moreau inquired.

"They have no idea of it," Jean-Baptiste said. "I went as a simple curious civilian, and talked a long time with an old sergeant and some of his men. The soldiers believe that Napoleon will be given command of the National Guard. That's what their officers have told them."

Moreau was furious. "That's the most outrageous lie I've ever heard."

"I think that tomorrow Napoleon will demand from the deputies command of the National Guard," Jean-Baptiste said evenly.

"And we shall insist you share this command with him," Moreau shouted. "Are you prepared to do so?"

Jean-Baptiste nodded. "Submit this request to the Minister of War. If Napoleon is given command of the National Guard, then Bernadotte, as the Ministry's trustee, is to share it with him."

I couldn't sleep all night. From downstairs came the sound of voices. I could distinguish Moreau's light, angry tones and Sazzarin's bass. That was yesterday, only yesterday. . .

Throughout the day a continuous stream of messengers arrived, officers of all ranks, finally a recruit. The recruit, sweating profusely, leapt from his horse and cried, "Bonaparte is First Consul. First Consul!"

"Sit down, man," Jean-Baptiste said calmly. "Désirée, give him a glass of wine." But before the soldier had pulled himself together enough to speak sensibly, a young captain hurried
into the room. "General Bernadotte, the Consular Government has been proclaimed. Bonaparte is the First Consul!"

During the morning Napoleon had gone first to the Senate
where he asked to be heard. The Senate, consisting chiefly of venerable and chronically sleepy lawyers, had listened, bored, to his impassioned speech. Napoleon talked some drivel about a conspiracy against the Government, and asked that he be granted in this hour of national peril unrestricted powers to act. The chairman of the Senate explained in a tortuous speech that he must come to some agreement with the Government. Accompanied by Joseph, Napoleon then went to the Council of Five Hundred. Here the atmosphere was very different. Each individual deputy knew exactly what Napoleon's appearance meant, but at first they clung tenaciously to the day's agenda. Soon, however, the chairman of the council—the young Jacobin, Lucien Bonaparte—pulled his brother up on the rostrum. "General Bonaparte has an announcement of decisive importance to the Republic."

"Hear, hear . . ." from the Bonaparte clique, and a concert of whistles from their opponents. Napoleon began to speak. All who heard him agree that he stuttered, that he mumbled something about an intrigue against the Republic and a conspiracy against his own life, but by then there was so much noise he couldn't be heard.

A general uproar followed. The Bonaparte contingent forced their way to the rostrum; their opponents—and these were members of all parties—jumped up, made their way to the exits and found them blocked by troops. Who ordered these troops into the Chamber to "protect" the deputies has not been explained. However, General Leclerc, Paulette's husband, was seen at their head. The National Guard, normally responsible for the safety of the representatives, lined up with the others. Soon the whole Chamber boiled like a witches' brew! Lucien and Napoleon stood close together on the
speaker's rostrum; a voice shouted, "Vive Bonaparte!"— .ten voices joined in, then thirty, then eighty. The gallery, where Murat, Masséna and Marmont had unexpectedly turned
up among the journalists, roared, too. And the deputies, surrounded on all sides by muskets, their toes trampled by grenadiers' boots, cheered helplessly.

The troops withdrew to the far corners of the Chamber and to the gallery. Police Director Fouché arrived with some men in civilian clothes and discreetly requested those members who, it was feared, might disturb the new "peace and order," to follow him. The Chamber, which now had great gaps, sat for hours, deliberating a new constitution. The chairman read the proposals for the formation of a new Government, to be headed by three consuls. General Napoleon Bonaparte was unanimously elected as First Consul, and at his request the Tuileries were placed at his disposal as his official residence.