This journey to Plombieres was preceded by a scene which I should abstain from describing if I had not undertaken to relate the truth respecting the family of the First Consul.  Two or three days before her departure Madame Bonaparte sent for me.  I obeyed the summons, and found her in tears.  “What a man-what a man is that Lucien!” she exclaimed in accents of grief.  “If you knew, my friend, the shameful proposals he has dared to make to me!  ‘You are going to the waters,’ said he; ’you must get a child by some other person since you cannot have one by him.’  Imagine the indignation with which I received such advice.  ‘Well,’ he continued, ’if you do not wish it, or cannot help it, Bonaparte must get a child by another woman, and you must adopt it, for it is necessary to secure an hereditary successor.  It is for your interest; you must know that.’—­ ‘What, sir!’ I replied, ’do you imagine the nation will suffer a bastard to govern it?  Lucien!  Lucien! you would ruin your brother!  This is dreadful!  Wretched should I be, were any one to suppose me capable of listening, without horror, to your infamous proposal!  Your ideas are poisonous; your language horrible!’—­’Well, Madame,’ retorted he, ’all I can say to that is, that I am really sorry for you!’”

The amiable Josephine was sobbing whilst she described this scene to me, and I was not insensible to the indignation which she felt.  The truth is, that at that period Lucien, though constantly affecting to despise power for himself, was incessantly labouring to concentrate it in the hands of his brother; and he considered three things necessary to the success of his views, namely, hereditary succession, divorce, and the Imperial Government.

Lucien had a delightful house near Neuilly.  Some days before the deplorable scene which I have related he invited Bonaparte and all the inmates at Malmaison to witness a theatrical representation.  ‘Alzire’ was the piece performed.  Elise played Alzire, and Lucien, Zamore.  The warmth of their declarations, the energetic expression of their gestures, the too faithful nudity of costume, disgusted most of the spectators, and Bonaparte more than any other.  When the play was over he was quite indignant.  “It is a scandal,” he said to me in an angry tone; “I ought not to suffer such indecencies—­I will give Lucien to understand that I will have no more of it.”  When his brother had resumed his own dress, and came into the salon, he addressed him publicly, and gave him to understand that he must for the future desist from such representations.  When we returned to Malmaison; he again spoke of what had passed with dissatisfaction.  “What!” said he, “when I am endeavouring to restore purity of manners, my brother and sister must needs exhibit themselves upon the boards almost in a state of nudity!  It is an insult!”