I remember one day, after one of his frequent sallies of contempt for human kind, I observed to him that although baubles might excite vulgar admiration, there were some distinguished men who did not permit themselves to be fascinated by their allurements; and I mentioned the celebrated Fox by way of example, who, previous to the conclusion of the peace of Amiens, visited Paris, where he was remarked for his extreme simplicity.  The First Consul said, “Ah! you are right with respect to him.  Mr. Fox is a truly great man, and pleases me much.”

In fact, Bonaparte always received Mr. Fox’s visits with the greatest satisfaction; and after every conversation they had together he never failed to express to me the pleasure which he experienced in discoursing with a man every way worthy of the great celebrity he had attained.  He considered him a very superior man, and wished he might have to treat with him in his future negotiations with England.  It may be supposed that Mr. Fox, on his part, never forgot the terms of intimacy, I may say of confidence, on which he had been with the First Consul.  In fact, he on several occasions informed him in time of war of the plots formed against his life.  Less could not be expected from a man of so noble a character.  I can likewise affirm, having more than once been in possession of proofs of the fact, that the English Government constantly rejected with indignation all such projects.  I do not mean those which had for their object the overthrow of the Consular or Imperial Government, but all plans of assassination and secret attacks on the person of Bonaparte, whether First Consul or Emperor.  I will here request the indulgence of the reader whilst I relate a circumstance which occurred a year before Mr. Fox’s journey to Paris; but as it refers to Moreau, I believe that the transposition will be pardoned more easily than the omission.

During the summer 1801 the First Consul took a fancy to give a grand military dinner at a restaurateur’s.  The restaurateur he favoured with his company was Veri, whose establishment was situated on the terrace of the Feuillans with an entrance into the garden of the Tuileries.  Bonaparte did not send an invitation to Moreau, whom I met by chance that day in the following manner:—­The ceremony of the dinner at Veri’s leaving me at liberty to dispose of my time, I availed myself of it to go and dine at a restaurateur’s named Rose, who then enjoyed great celebrity amongst the distinguished gastronomes.  I dined in company with M. Carbonnet, a friend of Moreau’s family, and two or three other persons.  Whilst we were at table in the rotunda we were informed by the waiter who attended on us that General Moreau and his wife, with Lacuee and two other military men, were in an adjoining apartment.  Suchet, who had dined at Veri’s, where he said everything was prodigiously dull, on rising from the table joined Moreau’s party.  These details we learned from M. Carbonnet, who left us for a few moments to see the General and Madame Moreau.