I shall not atop to refute all the infamous rumours which were circulated respecting Kleber’s death.  When the First Consul received the unexpected intelligence he could scarcely believe it.  He was deeply affected; and on reading the particulars of the assassination he instantly called to mind how often he had been in the same situation as that in which Kleber was killed, and all I had said respecting the danger of the reservoir—­ a danger from which it is inconceivable he should have escaped, especially after his Syrian expedition had excited the fury of the natives.  Bonaparte’s knowledge of Kleber’s talents—­the fact of his having confided to him the command of the army, and the aid which he constantly endeavoured to transmit to him, repelled at once the horrible suspicion of his having had the least participation in the crime, and the thought that he was gratified to hear of it.

It is very certain that Bonaparte’s dislike of Kleber was as decided as the friendship he cherished for Desaix.  Kleber’s fame annoyed him, for he was weak enough to be annoyed at it.  He knew the manner in which Kleber spoke of him, which was certainly not the most respectful.  During the long and sanguinary siege of St. Jean d’Acre Kleber said to me, “That little scoundrel Bonaparte, who is no higher than my boot, will enslave France.  See what a villainous expedition he has succeeded in involving us in.”  Kleber often made the same remark to others as well as to me.  I am not certain that it was ever reported to Bonaparte; but there is reason to believe that those who found it their interest to accuse others did not spare Kleber.

Kleber, who was a sincere republican, saw and dreaded for his country’s sake the secret views and inordinate ambition of Bonaparte.  He was a grumbler by nature; yet he never evinced discontent in the discharge of his duties as a soldier.  He swore and stormed, but marched bravely to the cannon’s mouth:  he was indeed courage personified.  One day when he was in the trench at St. Jean d’Acre, standing up, and by his tall stature exposed to every shot, Bonaparte called to him, “Stoop down, Kleber, stoop down!”—­“Why;” replied he, “your confounded trench does not reach to my knees.”  He never regarded the Egyptian expedition with a favourable eye.  He thought it too expensive, and utterly useless to France.  He was convinced that in the situation in which we stood, without a navy or a powerful Government, it would have been better to have confined our attention to Europe than to have wasted French blood and money on the banks of the Nile, and among the ruined cities of Syria.  Kleber, who was a cool, reflecting man, judged Bonaparte without enthusiasm, a thing somewhat rare at that time, and he was not blind to any of his faults.