himself on having struck the bargain with Spain which had secured that
vast province at the expense of an Austrian archduke's crown; and
Joseph knew only too well that Napoleon was freeing himself in the
West in order to be free to strike hard in Europe and the East. The
imminent rupture of the Peace of Amiens touched him keenly: for that
peace was his proudest achievement. If colonial adventures must be
sought, let them be sought in the New World, where Spain and the
United States could offer only a feeble resistance, rather than in
Europe and Asia, where unending war must be the result of an
aggressive policy.

At once the brothers sought an interview with Napoleon. He chanced to
be in his bath, a warm bath perfumed with scents, where he believed
that tired nature most readily found recovery. He ordered them to be
admitted, and an interesting family discussion was the result. On his
mentioning the proposed sale, Lucien at once retorted that the
Legislature would never consent to this sacrifice. He there touched
the wrong chord in Napoleon's nature: had he appealed to the memories
of _le grand monarque_ and of Montcalm, possibly he might have bent
that iron will; but the mention of the consent of the French deputies
roused the spleen of the autocrat, who, from amidst the scented water,
mockingly bade his brother go into mourning for the affair, which he,
and he alone, intended to carry out. This gibe led Joseph to threaten
that he would mount the tribune in the Chambers and head the
opposition to this unpatriotic surrender. Defiance flashed forth once
more from the bath; and the First Consul finally ended their bitter
retorts by spasmodically rising as suddenly falling backwards, and
drenching Joseph to the skin. His peals of scornful laughter, and the
swooning of the valet, who was not yet fully inured to these family
scenes, interrupted the argument of the piece; but, when resumed a
little later, _a sec_, Lucien wound up by declaring that, if he were
not his brother, he would be his enemy. "My enemy! That is rather
strong," exclaimed Napoleon. "You my enemy! I would break you, see,
like this box"--and he dashed his snuff-box on the carpet. It did not
break: but the portrait of Josephine was detached and broken.
Whereupon Lucien picked up the pieces and handed them to his brother,
remarking: "It is a pity: meanwhile, until you can break me, it is
your wife's portrait that you have broken."[203]

To Talleyrand, Napol