I come now to the subject of the invasion of England, and what the First Consul said to me respecting it.  I have stated that Bonaparte never had any idea of realising the pretended project of a descent on England.  The truth of this assertion will appear from a conversation which I had with him after he returned from his journey to the north.  In this conversation he repeated what he had often before mentioned to me in reference to the projects and possible steps to which fortune might compel him to resort.

The peace of Amiens had been broken about seven months when, on the 15th of December 1803, the First Consul sent for me to the Tuileries.  His incomprehensible behaviour to me was fresh in my mind; and as it was upwards of a year since I had seen him, I confess I did not feel quite at ease when I received the summons.  He was perfectly aware that I possessed documents and data for writing his history which would describe facts correctly, and destroy the illusions with which his flatterers constantly, entertained the public.  I have already stated that at that period I had no intention of the kind; but those who laboured constantly to incense him against me might have suggested apprehensions on the subject.  At all events the fact is, that when he sent for me I took the precaution of providing myself with a night-cap, conceiving it to be very likely that I should be sent to sleep at Vincennes.  On the day appointed for the interview Rapp was on duty.  I did not conceal from him my opinion as to the possible result of my visit.  “You need not be afraid,” said Rapp; “the First Consul merely wishes to talk with you.”  He then announced me.

Bonaparte came into the grand salon where I awaited him, and addressing me in the most good-humoured way said, “What do the gossips say of my preparations for the invasion of England?”—­“There is a great difference of opinion on the subject, General,” I replied.  “Everyone speaks according to his own views.  Suchet, for instance, who comes to see me very often, has no doubt that it will take place, and hopes to give you on the occasion fresh proofs of his gratitude and fidelity.”—­“But Suchet tells me that you do not believe it will be attempted.”—­“That is true, I certainly do not.”—­“Why?”—­“Because you told me at Antwerp, five years ago, that you would not risk France on the cast of a die—­that the adventure was too hazardous—­and circumstances have not altered since that time.”—­“You are right.  Those who look forward to the invasion of England are blockheads.  They do not see the affair in its true light.  I can, doubtless, land in England with 100,000 men.  A great battle will be fought, which I shall gain; but I must reckon upon 30,000 men killed, wounded, and prisoners.  If I march on London, a second battle must be fought.  I will suppose myself again victorious; but what should I do in London with an army diminished three-fourths and without the hope of reinforcements?  It would be madness.  Until our navy acquires superiority it is useless to think of such a project.  The great assemblage of troops in the north has another object.  My Government must be the first in the world, or it must fall.”  Bonaparte then evidently wished it to be supposed that he entertained the design of invading England in order to divert the attention of Europe to that direction.