Lannes hastened to the First Consul.  “What!”—­he exclaimed, “is it possible you can be guilty of such baseness as this?  To treat me in such a manner!  To lay such a foul snare for me after all that I have done for you; after all the blood I have shed to promote your ambition!  Is this the recompense you had in store for me?  You forget the 13th Vendemiaire, to the success of which I contributed more than you!  You forget Millesimo:  I was colonel before you!  For whom did I fight at Bassano?  You were witness of what I did at Lodi and at Governolo, where I was wounded; and yet you play me such a trick as this!  But for me, Paris would have revolted on the 18th Brumaire.  But for me, you would have lost the battle of Marengo.  I alone, yes, I alone, passed the Po, at Montebello, with my whole division.  You gave the credit of that to Berthier, who was not there; and this is my reward—­humiliation.  This cannot, this shall not be.  I will——­” Bonaparte, pale with anger, listened without stirring, and Lannes was on the point of challenging him when Junot, who heard the uproar, hastily entered.  The unexpected presence of this general somewhat reassured the First Consul, and at the same time calmed, in some degree, the fury of Lannes.  “Well,” said Bonaparte, “go to Lisbon.  You will get money there; and when you return you will not want any one to pay your debts for you.”  Thus was Bonaparte’s object gained.  Lannes set out for Lisbon, and never afterwards annoyed the First Consul by his familiarities, for on his return he ceased to address him with thee and thou.

Having described Bonaparte’s ill-treatment of Lannes I may here subjoin a statement of the circumstances which led to a rupture between the First Consul and me.  So many false stories have been circulated on the subject that I am anxious to relate the facts as they really were.

Nine months had now passed since I had tendered my resignation to the First Consul.  The business of my office had become too great for me, and my health was so much endangered by over-application that my physician, M. Corvisart, who had for a long time impressed upon me the necessity of relaxation, now formally warned me that I should not long hold out under the fatigue I underwent.  Corvisart had no doubt spoken to the same effect to the First Consul, for the latter said to me one day, in a tone which hetrayed but little feeling, “Why, Corvisart says you have not a year to live.”  This was certainly no very welcome compliment in the mouth of an old college friend, yet I must confess that the doctor risked little by the prediction.