business with
the First Consul. The nature of this secret business may easily be
guessed at.

--[When M. Delaforet was replaced soon after this by Lavalette,
Napoleon ordered the discontinuance of the practice followed until
then of allowing letters to be opened by subordinate officials.
This right was restricted, as in England, to the Minister. However
bad this practice, it was limited, not extended, in his reign. See
Mineval, tome iii. pp. 60-62, and Lavalette, tome ii. p. 10.]--

On the occasion of one of their interviews the First Consul saw a letter
from Kellerman to Lasalle, which contained the following passage: "Would
you believe, my friend, that Bonaparte has not made me a general of
division though I have just placed the crown on his head?" The letter
was sealed again and sent to its address; but Bonaparte never forgot its
contents.

Whether Kellerman did or did not give the crown of France to the First
Consul, it is very certain that on the evening of the battle of Marengo
he gave him a supper, of which his famishing staff and the rest of us
partook. This was no inconsiderable service in the destitute condition
in which we were. We thought ourselves exceeding fortunate in profiting
by the precaution of Kellerman, who had procured provisions from one of
those pious retreats which are always well supplied, and which soldiers
are very glad to fall in with when campaigning. It was the convent del
Bosco which on this occasion was laid under contribution; and in return
for the abundance of good provisions and wine with which they supplied
the commander of the heavy cavalry the holy fathers were allowed a guard
to protect them against pillage and the other disastrous concomitants of
war.

After supper was over the First Consul dictated to me the bulletin of the
battle. When we were alone I said to him, "General, here is a fine
victory! You recollect what you said the other day about the pleasure
with which you would return to France after striking a grand blow in
Italy; surely you must be satisfied now?"--"Yes, Bourrienne, I am
satisfied.--But Desaix! . . . Ah, what a triumph would this have
been if I could have embraced him to-night on the field of battle!"
As he uttered these words I saw that Bonaparte was on the point of
shedding tears, so sincere and profound was his grief for the death of
Desaix. He certainly never loved, esteemed, or regretted any man so
much.

The death of Desaix has