I had never before observed the First Consul so violently irritated.  He was in a terrible passion, and I dreaded the moment when the levee was to open.  When he left me to go down to the salon I availed myself of the opportunity to get there before him, which I could easily do, as the salon was not twenty steps from the cabinet.  By good luck Bernadotte was the first person I saw.  He was standing in the recess of a window which looked on the square of the Carrousel.  To cross the salon and reach the General was the work of a moment.  “General!” said I, “trust me and retire!—­I have good reasons for advising it!” Bernadotte, seeing my extreme anxiety, and aware of the sincere sentiments of esteem end friendship which I entertained for him, consented to retire, and I regarded this as a triumph; for, knowing Bernadotte’s frankness of character and his nice sense of honour, I was quite certain that he would not submit to the harsh observations which Bonaparte intended to address to him.  My stratagem had all the success I could desire.  The First Consul suspected nothing, and remarked only one thing, which was that his victim was absent.  When the levee was over he said to me, “What do you think of it, Bourrienne?—–­Bernadotte did not come.”—­“So much the better for him, General,” was my reply.  Nothing further happened.  The First Consul on returning from Josephine found me in the cabinet, and consequently could suspect nothing, and my communication with Bernadotte did not occupy five minutes.  Bernadotte always expressed himself much gratified with the proof of friendship I gave him at this delicate conjuncture.  The fact is, that from a disposition of my mind, which I could not myself account for, the more Bonaparte’a unjust hatred of Bernadotte increased the more sympathy and admiration I felt for the noble character of the latter.

The event in question occurred in the spring of 1802.  It was at this period that Bonaparte first occupied St. Cloud, which he was much pleased with, because he found himself more at liberty there than at the Tuileries; which palace is really only a prison for royalty, as there a sovereign cannot even take the air at a window without immediately being the object of the curiosity of the public, who collect in large crowds.  At St. Cloud, on the contrary, Bonaparte could walk out from his cabinet and prolong his promenade without being annoyed by petitioners.  One of his first steps was to repair the cross road leading from St. Cloud to Malmaison, between which places Bonaparte rode in a quarter of an hour.  This proximity to the country, which he liked, made staying at St. Cloud yet pleasanter to him.  It was at St. Cloud that the First Consul made, if I may so express it, his first rehearsals of the grand drama of the Empire.  It was there he began to introduce, in external forms, the habits and etiquette which brought to mind the ceremonies of sovereignty.  He soon perceived the influence which pomp of ceremony, brilliancy of appearance, and richness of costume, exercise over the mass of mankind.  “Men,” he remarked to me a this period, “well deserve the contempt I feel for them.  I have only to put some gold lace on the coats of my virtuous republicans and they immediately become just what I wish them.”