At that time, when he saw his glory and power augmenting, he said to me in one of our walks at Malmaison, in a moment of hilarity, and clapping me on the shoulder, “Well, Bourrienne, you also will be immortal!”—­ “why, General?”—­“Are you not my secretary?”—­“Tell me the name of Alexander’s,” said I.

—­[Bonaparte did not know the name of Alexander’s secretary, and I forgot at the moment to tell him it was Clallisthenes.  He wrote Alexander’s Memoirs, as I am writing Bonaparte’s; but, notwithstanding this coincidence, I neither expect nor desire the immortality of my name.—­Bourrienne.]—­

Bonaparte then turned to me and laughing, said, “Hem! that is not bad.”  There was, to be sure, a little flattery conveyed in my question, but that never displeased him, and I certainly did not in that instance deserve the censure he often bestowed on me for not being enough of a courtier and flatterer.

Madame Murat gave a grand fete in honour of Bonaparte at her residence at Neuilly.  At dinner Bonaparte sat opposite Madame Murat at the principal table, which was appropriated to the ladies.  He ate fast, and talked but little.  However, when the dessert was served, he put a question to each lady.  This question was to inquire their respective ages.  When Madame Bourrienne’s turn came he said to her, “Oh!  I know yours.”  This was a great deal for his gallantry, and the other ladies were far from being pleased at it.

Next day, while walking with me in his favourite alley at Malmaison, he received one of those stupid reports of the police which were so frequently addressed to him.  It mentioned the observations which had been made in Paris about a green livery he had lately adopted.  Some said that green had been chosen because it was the colour of the House of Artois.  On reading that a slight sneer was observable in his countenance, and he said, “What are these idiots dreaming of?  They must be joking, surely.  Am I no better than M. d’Artois?  They shall soon see the difference.”

Until the middle of the year 1801 the erasures from the emigrant list had always been proposed by the Minister of Police.  The First Consul having been informed that intrigue and even bribery had been employed to obtain them, determined that in future erasures should be part of the business of his cabinet.  But other affairs took up his attention, and a dozen or fifteen erasures a week were the most that were made.  After Te Deum had been chanted at Malmaison for the Concordat and the peace, I took advantage of that moment of general joy to propose to Bonaparte the return of the whole body of emigrants.  “You have,” said I in a half-joking way, “reconciled Frenchmen to God—­now reconcile them to each other.  There have never been any real emigrants, only absentees; and the proof of this is, that erasures from the list have always been, and will always be, made daily.”  He immediately seized the idea.  “We shall see,” said he; “but I must except a thousand persons belonging to high families, especially those who are or have been connected with royalty or the Court.”