Ten Years Exile | Page 8

has made me talked of as a writer, has always been to
me a source of greater pleasure than pain. The criticisms of which one's
works are the objects, can be very easily borne, when one is possessed
of some elevation of soul, and when one is more attached to noble ideas
for themselves, than for the success which their promulgation can
procure us. Besides, the public, at the end of a certain time, appears to
me always equitable; self-love must accustom itself to do credit to

praise; for in due time, we obtain as much of that as we deserve. Finally,
if we should have even to complain long of injustice, I conceive no
better asylum against it than philosophical meditation, and the emotion
of eloquence. These faculties place at our disposal a whole world of
truths and sentiments, in which we can breathe at perfect freedom.


CHAPTER 4.
Conversation of my father with Bonaparte.--Campaign of Marengo.
Bonaparte set out in the spring of 1800, to make the campaign of Italy,
which was distinguished by the battle of Marengo. He went by Geneva,
and as he expressed a desire to see M. Necker, my father waited upon
him, more with the hope of serving me, than from any other motive.
Bonaparte received him extremely well, and talked to him of his plans
of the moment, with that sort of confidence which is in his character, or
rather in his calculation; for it is thus we must always style his
character. My father, at first seeing him, experienced nothing of the
impression which I did; he felt no restraint in his presence, and found
nothing extraordinary in his conversation. I have endeavoured to
account to myself for this difference in our opinions of the same person;
and, I believe, that it arose, first, because the simple and unaffected
dignity of my father's manners ensured him the respect of all who
conversed with him; and second, because the kind of superiority
attached to Bonaparte proceeding more from ability in evil action, than
from the elevation of good thoughts, his conversation cannot make us
conceive what distinguishes him; he neither could nor would explain
his own Machiavelian instinct. My father uttered not a word to him of
his two millions deposited in the public treasury; he did not wish to
appear interested but for me, and said to him, among other things, that
as the first consul loved to surround himself with illustrious names, he
ought to feel equal pleasure in encouraging persons of celebrated talent,
as the ornament of his power. Bonaparte replied to him very obligingly,
and the result of this conversation ensured me, at least for some time

longer, a residence in France. This was the last occasion when my
father's protecting hand was extended over my existence; he has not
been a witness of the cruel persecution I have since endured, and which
would have irritated him even more than myself.
Bonaparte repaired to Lausanne to prepare the expedition of Mount St.
Bernard; the old Austrian general could not believe in the possibility of
so bold an enterprise, and in consequence made inadequate
preparations to oppose it. It was said, that a small body of troops would
have been sufficient to destroy the whole French army in the midst of
the mountainous passes, through which Bonaparte led it; but in this, as
well as in several other instances, the following verses of J. B.
Rousseau might be very well applied to the triumphs of Bonaparte:
L'experience indecile Du compagnon de Paul Emile, Fit tout le succes
d'Annibal.
(The unruly inexperience of the colleague of Paulus Emilius, was the
cause of all the victories of Hannibal).
I arrived in Switzerland to pass the summer according to custom with
my father, nearly about the time when the French army was crossing
the Alps. Large bodies of troops were seen continually passing through
these peaceful countries, which the majestic boundary of the Alps
ought to shelter from political storms. In these beautiful summer
evenings, on the borders of the lake of Geneva, I was almost ashamed,
in the presence of that beautiful sky and pure water, of the disquietude I
felt respecting the affairs of this world: but it was impossible for me to
overcome my internal agitation: I could not help wishing that
Bonaparte might be beaten, as that seemed the only means of stopping
the progress of his tyranny. I durst not, however, avow this wish, and
the prefect of the Leman, M. Eymar (an old deputy to the Constituent
Assembly), recollecting the period when we cherished together the
hope of liberty, was continually sending me couriers to inform me of
the progress of the French in Italy. It would have been difficult for me
to make M. Eymar