The republic of Venice, now laboring under the greatest anxiety and fear on account of Bonaparte’s anger at her perfidy and enmity, had descended from the height of her proud attitude to the most abject humility.  Her solicitude for mere existence made her so far forget her dignity, that she humbly invited Bonaparte, whose loud voice of anger pronounced only vengeance and destruction, to come and receive in person their homage and the assurance of their loyalty.

Bonaparte refused this invitation as regarded his own person, for in his secret thoughts the ruin of Venice was a settled matter; and as the death-warrant of this republic of terror and secret government was already signed in his thoughts, he could not accept her feasts and her homage.  But he did not wish before the time to betray to the republic his own conclusions, and his refusal to accept their invitation ought not to have the appearance of a hostile demonstration.  He therefore sent to Venice a representative, who, in his name, was to receive the humble homage and the assurances of friendship from the republic.  This representative was Josephine, and she gladly undertook this mission, without foreseeing that Venice, which adorned itself for her sake with flowers and festivities, was but the crowned victim at the eve of the sacrifice.

As Bonaparte himself could not accompany his wife, he sent with her as an escort the ex-magistrate Marmont; and in his memoirs the latter relates with enthusiasm the feasts which the republic of Venice gave in honor of the general upon whom, as she well knew, her future fate depended.

“Madame Bonaparte,” says he, “was four days in Venice.  I accompanied her hither.  Three days were devoted to the most splendid feasts.  On the first day there was a regatta, a species of amusement which seems reserved only to Venice, the queen of the sea. ...  Six or seven gondolas, each manned by one or two oarsmen, perform a race which begins at St. Mark’s Square, and ends at the Rialto bridge.  These gondolas seem to fly; persons who have never seen them can form no idea of their swiftness.  The beauty of the representation consists especially in the immense gatherings of the spectators.  The Italians are extremely fond of this spectacle; they come from great distances on the continent to see it; there is not in Venice an individual who rushes not to the Canal Grande to enjoy the spectacle; and during the time of the regatta of which I am speaking, the wharves on the Canal Grande were covered with at least one hundred and fifty thousand persons, all full of curiosity.  More than five hundred small and large barges, adorned with flowers, flags, and tapestries, followed the contesting gondolas.

“The second day we had a sea-excursion; a banquet had been prepared on the Lido:  the population followed in barges adorned with wreaths and flowers, and to the sound of music re-echoing far and near.