The Companions of Jehu - Alexandre Dumas (best biographies to read txt) 📗

We have said that Moreau, furnished no doubt with instructions, left the little house in the Rue de la Victoire, while Bonaparte returned alone to the salon. Everything furnished an object of comment in such a company as was there assembled; the absence of Moreau, the return of Bonaparte unaccompanied, and the visible good humor which animated his countenance, were all remarked upon.

The eyes which fastened upon him most ardently were those of Josephine and Roland. Moreau for Bonaparte added twenty chances to the success of the plot; Moreau against Bonaparte robbed him of fifty. Josephine’s eyes were so supplicating that, on leaving Lucien, Bonaparte pushed his brother toward his wife. Lucien understood, and approached Josephine, saying: “All is well.”

“Moreau?”

“With us.”

“I thought he was a Republican.”

“He has been made to see that we are acting for the good of the Republic.”

“I should have thought him ambitious,” said Roland.

Lucien started and looked at the young man.

“You are right,” said he.

“Then,” remarked Josephine, “if he is ambitious he will not let Bonaparte seize the power.”

“Why not?”

“Because he will want it himself.”

“Yes; but he will wait till it comes to him ready-made, inasmuch as he doesn’t know how to create it, and is afraid to seize it.”

During this time Bonaparte had joined the group which had formed around Talma after dinner, as well as before. Remarkable men are always the centre of attraction.

“What are you saying, Talma?” demanded Bonaparte. “It seems to me they are listening to you very attentively.”

“Yes, but my reign is over,” replied the artist.

“Why so?”

“I do as citizen Barras has done; I abdicate?”

“So citizen Barras has abdicated?”

“So rumor says.”

“Is it known who will take his place?”

“It is surmised.”

“Is it one of your friends, Talma?”

“Time was,” said Talma, bowing, “when he did me the honor to say I was his.”

“Well, in that case, Talma, I shall ask for your influence.”

“Granted,” said Talma, laughing; “it only remains to ask how it can serve you.”

“Get me sent back to Italy; Barras would not let me go.”

“The deuce!” said Talma; “don’t you know the song, general, ‘We won’t go back to the woods when the laurels are clipped’?”

“Oh! Roscius, Roscius!” said Bonaparte, smiling, “have you grown a flatterer during my absence?”

“Roscius was the friend of Cæsar, general, and when the conqueror returned from Gaul he probably said to him about the same thing I have said to you.”

Bonaparte laid his band on Talma’s shoulder.

“Would he have said the same words after crossing the Rubicon?”

Talma looked Bonaparte straight in the face.

“No,” he replied; “he would have said, like the augur, ‘Cæsar, beware of the Ides of March!’”

Bonaparte slipped his hand into his breast as if in search of something; finding the dagger of the Companions of Jehu, he grasped it convulsively. Had he a presentiment of the conspiracies of Arena, Saint-Regent, and Cadoudal?

Just then the door opened and a servant announced: “General Bernadotte!”

“Bernadotte,” muttered Bonaparte, involuntarily. “What does he want here?”

Since Bonaparte’s return, Bernadotte had held aloof from him, refusing all the advances which the general-in-chief and his friends had made him. The fact is, Bernadotte had long since discerned the politician beneath the soldier’s greatcoat, the dictator beneath the general, and Bernadotte, for all that he became king in later years, was at that time a very different Republican from Moreau. Moreover, Bernadotte believed he had reason to complain of Bonaparte. His military career had not been less brilliant than that of the young general; his fortunes were destined to run parallel with his to the end, only, more fortunate than that other—Bernadotte was to die on his throne. It is true, he did not conquer that throne; he was called to it.

Son of a lawyer at Pau, Bernadotte, born in 1764—that is to say, five years before Bonaparte—was in the ranks as a private soldier when only eighteen. In 1789 he was only a sergeant-major. But those were the days of rapid promotion. In 1794, Kléber created him brigadier-general on the field of battle, where he had decided the fortunes of the day. Becoming a general of division, he played a brilliant part at Fleurus and Juliers, forced Maestricht to capitulate, took Altdorf, and protected, against an army twice as numerous as his own, the retreat of Joubert. In 1797 the Directory ordered him to take seventeen thousand men to Bonaparte. These seventeen thousand men were his old soldiers, veterans of Kléber, Marceau and Hoche, soldiers of the Sambre-et-Meuse; and yet Bernadotte forgot all rivalry and seconded Bonaparte with all his might, taking part in the passage of the Tagliamento, capturing Gradiska, Trieste, Laybach, Idria, bringing back to the Directory, after the campaign, the flags of the enemy, and accepting, possibly with reluctance, an embassy to Vienna, while Bonaparte secured the command of the army of Egypt.

At Vienna, a riot, excited by the tri-color flag hoisted above the French embassy, for which the ambassador was unable to obtain redress, forced him to demand his passports. On his return to Paris, the Directory appointed him Minister of War. An underhand proceeding of Sièyes, who was offended by Bernadotte’s republicanism, induced the latter to send in his resignation. It was accepted, and when Bonaparte landed at Fréjus the late minister had been three months out of office. Since Bonaparte’s return, some of Bernadotte’s friends had sought to bring about his reinstatement; but Bonaparte had opposed it. The result was a hostility between the two generals, none the less real because not openly avowed.

Bernadotte’s appearance in Bonaparte’s salon was therefore an event almost as extraordinary as the presence of Moreau. And the entrance of the conqueror of Maestricht caused as many heads to turn as had that of the conqueror of Rastadt. Only, instead of going forward to meet him, as he had Moreau, Bonaparte merely turned round and awaited him.

Bernadotte, from the threshold of the door, cast a rapid glance around the salon. He divided and analyzed the groups, and although he must have perceived Bonaparte in the midst of the principal one, he went up to Josephine, who was reclining on a couch at the corner of the fireplace, like the statue of Agrippina in the Pitti, and, addressing her with chivalric courtesy, inquired for her health; then only did he raise his head as if to look for Bonaparte. At such a time everything was of too much importance for those present not to remark this affectation of courtesy on Bernadotte’s part.

Bonaparte, with his rapid, comprehensive intellect, was not the last to notice this; he was seized with impatience, and, instead of awaiting Bernadotte in the midst of the group where he happened to be, he turned abruptly to the embrasure of a window, as if to challenge the ex-minister of war to follow him. Bernadotte bowed graciously to right and left, and controlling his usually mobile face to an expression of perfect calmness, he walked toward Bonaparte, who awaited him as a wrestler awaits his antagonist, the right foot forward and his lips compressed. The two men bowed, but Bonaparte made no movement to extend his hand to Bernadotte, nor did the latter offer to take it.

“Is it you?” asked Bonaparte. “I am glad to see you.”

“Thank you, general,” replied Bernadotte. “I have come because I wish to give you a few explanations.”

“I did not recognize you at first.”

“Yet I think, general, that my name was announced by your servant in a voice loud enough to prevent any doubt as to my identity.”

“Yes, but he announced General Bernadotte.”

“Well?”

“Well, I saw a man in civilian’s dress, and though I recognized you, I doubted if it were really you.”

For some time past Bernadotte had affected to wear civilian’s dress in preference to his uniform.

“You know,” said he, laughing, “that I am only half a soldier now. I was retired by citizen Sièyes.”

“It seems that it was lucky for me that you were no longer minister of war when I landed at Fréjus.”

“How so?”

“You said, so I was told, that had you received the order to arrest me for violating quarantine you would have done so.”

“I said it, and I repeat it, general. As a soldier I was always a faithful observer of discipline. As a minister I was a slave to law.”

Bonaparte bit his lips. “And will you say, after that, that you have not a personal enmity to me?”

“A personal enmity to you, general?” replied Bernadotte. “Why should I have? We have always gone together, almost in the same stride; I was even made general before you. While my campaigns on the Rhine were less brilliant than yours on the Adige, they were not less profitable for the Republic; and when I had the honor to serve under you, you found in me, I hope, a subordinate devoted, if not to the man, at least to the country which he served. It is true that since your departure, general, I have been more fortunate than you in not having the responsibility of a great army, which, if one may believe Kléber’s despatches, you have left in a disastrous position.”

“What do you mean? Kléber’s last despatches? Has Kléber written?”

“Are you ignorant of that, general? Has the Directory not informed you of