ed all the papers which the First Consul had to read
on his table, and among the first was Junot's report. The First Consul
entered and read it; on coming to the passage concerning me he began to
smile.
"Have you read this bulletin?"--"yes, General."--"What an ass that Junot
is! It is a long time since I have known that."--"How he allows himself
to be entrapped! Is he still here?"--"I believe so. I have just seen
him, and made observations to him, all in good part, but he would hear
nothing."--"Tell him to come here." When Junot appeared Bonaparte
began--"Imbecile that you are! how could you send me such reports as
these? Do you not read them? How shall I be sure that you will not
compromise other persons equally unjustly? I want positive facts, not
inventions. It is some time since your agent displeased me; dismiss him
directly." Junot wanted to justify himself, but Bonaparte cut him
short--"Enough!--It is settled!"
I related what had passed to Fouche, who told me that, wishing to amuse
himself at Junot's expense, whose police agents only picked up what they
heard related in coffeehouses, gaming-houses, and the Bourse, he had
given currency to this absurd story, which Junot had credited and
reported, as he did many other foolish tales. Fouche often caught the
police of the Palace in the snares he laid for them, and thus increased
his own credit.
This circumstance, and others of the same nature, induced the First
Consul to attach less importance than at first he had to his secret
police, which seldom reported anything but false and silly stories.
That wretched police! During the time I was with him it embittered his
life, and often exasperated him against his wife, his relations, and
friends.
--[Bourrienne, it must be remembered, was a sufferer from the
vigilance of this police.]--
Rapp, who was as frank as he was brave, tells us in his Memoirs (p. 233)
that when Napoleon, during his retreat from Moscow, while before
Smolenski, heard of the attempt of Mallet, he could not get over the
adventure of the Police Minister, Savary, and the Prefect of Police,
Pasquier. "Napoleon," says Rapp, "was not surprised that these wretches
(he means the agents of the police) who crowd the salons and the taverns,
who insinuate themselves everywhere and obstruct everything, should not
have found out the plot, but he could not understand the weakness of the
Duc de Rovigo. The very police which professed to divine everythin
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