It was not far from Caesar’s Tower that 80,000 men of the camps of Boulogne and Montreuil, under the command of Marshal Soult, were assembled in a vast plain to witness the distribution of the crosses of the Legion of Honour impressed with the Imperial effigy.  This plain, which I saw with Bonaparte in our first journey to the coast, before our departure to Egypt, was circular and hollow; and in the centre was a little hill.  This hill formed the Imperial throne of Bonaparte in the midst of his soldiers.  There he stationed himself with his staff and around this centre of glory the regiments were drawn up in lines and looked like so many diverging rays.  From this throne, which had been erected by the hand of nature, Bonaparte delivered in a loud voice the same form of oath which he had pronounced at the Hotel des Invalides a few days before.  It was the signal for a general burst of enthusiasm, and Rapp, alluding to this ceremony, told me that he never saw the Emperor appear more pleased.  How could he be otherwise?  Fortune then seemed obedient to his wishes.  A storm came on during this brilliant day, and it was apprehended that part of the flotilla would have suffered.

Bonaparte quitted the hill from which he had distributed the crosses and proceeded to the port to direct what measures should be taken, when upon his arrival the storm—­

—­[The following description of the incident when Napoleon nearly occasioned the destruction of the Boulogne flotilla was forwarded to the ‘Revue Politique et Litteraire’ from a private memoir.  The writer, who was an eye-witness, says—­

One morning, when the Emperor was mounting his horse, he announced that he intended to hold a review of his naval forces, and gave the order that the vessels which lay in the harbour should alter their positions, as the review was to be held on the open sea.  He started on his usual ride, giving orders that everything should be arranged on his return, the time of which be indicted.  His wish was communicated to Admiral Bruix, who responded with imperturbable coolness that he was very sorry, but that the review could not take place that day.  Consequently not a vessel was moved.  On his return back from his ride the Emperor asked whether all was ready.  He was told what the Admiral had said.  Twice the answer had to be repeated to him before he could realise its nature, and then, violently stamping his foot on the ground, he sent for the Admiral.  The Emperor met him halfway.  With eyes burning with rage, he exclaimed in an excited voice, “Why have my orders not been executed?” With respectful firmness Admiral Bruix replied, “Sire, a terrible storm is brewing.  Your Majesty may convince yourself of it; would you without need expose the lives of so many men?” The heaviness of the atmosphere and the sound of thunder in the distance more than justified the fears of the Admiral.  “Sir, said the Emperor, getting more and more irritated, “I