That same day, the First Consul¹, left alone with Bourrienne, dictated² the following order, addressed to the Consulate³ guard and to the army at large:  
  Washington is dead! That great man fought against tyranny. He
  consolidated⁴ the liberty of America. His memory will ever be dear
  to the French people, to all free men in both hemispheres, but
  especially to the French soldiers, who, like Washington and his
  soldiers, have fought for Liberty and Equality. Consequently, the
  First Consul orders that the flags and banners of the Republic
  shall be hung with crape for ten days.
But the First Consul did not intend to confine himself to this order of the day.
 
Among the means he took to facilitate his removal from the Luxembourg to the Tuileries was one of those fêtes by which he knew, none better, how to amuse the eyes and also direct the minds of the spectator. This fête was to take place at the Invalides, or, as they said in those days, the Temple of Mars. A bust⁵ of Washington was to be crowned, and the flags of Aboukir were to be received from the hands of General Lannes.
 
It was one of those combinations which Bonaparte thoroughly⁶ understood—a flash of lightning drawn⁷ from the contact of contrasting facts. He presented the great man of the New World, and a great victory of the old; young America coupled with the palms of Thebes and Memphis.
 
On the day fixed⁸ for the ceremony, six thousand cavalry⁹ were in line from the Luxembourg to the Invalides. At eight o’clock, Bonaparte mounted his horse in the main courtyard of the Consular¹⁰ palace; issuing by the Rue¹¹ de Tournon he took the line of the quays¹², accompanied by a staff of generals, none of whom were over thirty-five years of age.
 
Lannes headed the procession; behind him were sixty Guides bearing the sixty captured flags; then came Bonaparte about two horse’s-lengths ahead of his staff.
 
The minister of war, Berthier, awaited the procession under the dome¹³ of the temple. He leaned against a statue of Mars at rest, and the ministers and councillors of state were grouped around him. The flags of Denain and Fontenoy, and those of the first campaign in Italy, were already suspended from the columns which supported the roof. Two centenarian “Invalids” who had fought beside Maréchal Saxe were standing¹⁴, one to the right and one to the left of Berthier, like caryatides of an ancient world, gazing across the centuries. To the right, on a raised platform, was the bust of Washington, which was now to be draped with the flags of Aboukir. On another platform, opposite to the former, stood Bonaparte’s armchair.
 
On each side of the temple were tiers of seats in which was gathered all the elegant society of Paris, or rather that portion of it which gave its adhesion to the order of ideas then to be celebrated¹⁵.
 
When the flags appeared, the trumpets¹⁶ blared, their metallic¹⁷ sounds echoing through the arches of the temple,
 
Lannes entered first. At a sign from him, the Guides mounted two by two the steps of the platform and placed the staffs of the flags in the holders¹⁸ prepared for them. During this time Bonaparte took his place in the chair,
 
Then Lannes advanced to the minister of war, and, in that voice that rang out so clearly on the battlefield, crying “Forward!” he said:
 
“Citizen minister, these are the flags of the Ottoman army, destroyed before your eyes at Aboukir. The army of Egypt, after crossing burning deserts, surviving thirst and hunger, found itself before an enemy proud of his numbers and his victories, and believing that he saw an easy prey¹⁹ in our troops, exhausted²⁰ by their march and incessant²¹ combats. He had yet to learn that the French soldier is greater because he knows how to suffer than because he knows how to vanquish²², and that his courage rises and augments²³ in danger. Three thousand Frenchmen, as you know, fell upon eighteen thousand barbarians²⁴, broke their ranks, forced them back, pressed them between our lines and the sea; and the terror of our bayonets is such that the Mussulmans, driven to choose a death, rushed into the depths of the Mediterranean²⁵.
 
“On that memorable²⁶ day hung the destinies of Egypt, France and Europe, and they were saved by your courage,
 
“Allied Powers! if you dare to violate French territory, and if the general who was given back to us by the victory of Aboukir makes an appeal to the nation—Allied Powers! I say to you, that your successes would be more fatal to you than disasters! What Frenchman is there who would not march to victory again under the banners of the First Consul, or serve his apprenticeship²⁷ to fame with him?”
 
Then, addressing the “Invalids,” for whom the whole lower gallery had been reserved, he continued in a still more powerful voice:
 
“And you, brave veterans, honorable victims of the fate of battles, you will not be the last to flock under the orders of him who knows your misfortunes and your glory, and who now delivers to your keeping these trophies²⁸ won by your valor²⁹. Ah, I know you, veterans, you burn to sacrifice the half of your remaining lives to your country and its freedom!”
 
This specimen³⁰ of the military eloquence³¹ of the conqueror³² of Montebello was received with deafening³³ applause. Three times the minister of war endeavored to make reply; and three times the bravos cut him short. At last, however, silence came, and Berthier expressed himself as follows:
 
“To raise on the banks of the Seine these trophies won on the banks of the Nile; to hang beneath the domes³⁴ of our temples, beside the flags of Vienna, of Petersburg, of London, the banners blessed in the mosques³⁵ of Byzantium and Cairo; to see them here, presented by the same warriors³⁶, young in years, old in glory, whom Victory has so often crowned—these things are granted only to Republican France.
 
“Yet this is but a part of what he has done, that hero, in the flower of his age covered with the laurels³⁸ of Europe, he, who stood a victor before the Pyramids, from the summits of which forty centuries looked down upon him while, surrounded by his warriors and learned men, he emancipated³⁹ the native soil of art and restored to it the lights of civilization.
 
“Soldiers, plant in this temple of the warrior³⁷ virtues⁴⁰ those ensigns of the Crescent, captured on the rocks of Canopus by three thousand Frenchmen from eighteen thousand Ottomans, as brave as they were barbarous. Let them bear witness, not to the valor of the French soldier—the universe itself resounds⁴¹ to that—but to his unalterable constancy, his sublime⁴² devotion. Let the sight of these banners console you, veteran warriors, you, whose bodies, gloriously mutilated on the field of honor, deprive your courage of other exercise than hope and prayer. Let them proclaim from that dome above us, to all the enemies of France, the influence of genius, the value of the heroes who captured them; forewarning of the horrors of war all those who are deaf to our offers of peace. Yes, if they will have war, they shall have it—war, terrible and unrelenting!
 
“The nation, satisfied, regards the Army of the East with pride.
 
“That invincible⁴³ army will learn with joy that the First Consul is watchful⁴⁴ of its glory. It is the object of the keenest solicitude⁴⁵ on the part of the Republic. It will hear with pride that we have honored it in our temples, while awaiting the moment when we shall imitate, if need be, on the fields of Europe, the warlike virtues it has displayed on the burning sands of Africa and Asia.
 
“Come, in the name of that army, intrepid⁴⁶ general, come in the name of those heroes among whom you now appear, and receive an embrace in token of the national gratitude⁴⁷.
 
“And in the moment when we again take up our arms in defence of our independence (if the blind fury of kings refuses the peace we offer), let us cast a branch of laurel on the ashes of Washington, that hero who freed America from the yoke⁴⁸ of our worst and most implacable enemy. Let his illustrious shade tell us of the glory which follows a nation’s liberator⁴⁹ beyond the grave!”
 
Bonaparte now came down from his platform, and in the name of France was embraced by Berthier.
 
M. de Fontanes, who was appointed to pronounce the eulogy⁵⁰ on Washington, waited courteously⁵¹ until the echoes of the torrent⁵² of applause, which seemed to fall in cascades⁵³ through the vast amphitheatre, had died away. In the midst of these glorious individualities, M. de Fontanes was a curiosity, half political, half literary. After the 18th Fructidor he was proscribed⁵⁴ with Suard and Laharpe; but, being perfectly⁵⁵ hidden in a friend’s house, and never going out except at night, he managed to avoid leaving France. Nevertheless, an accident, impossible to foresee, had betrayed him. He was knocked down one night on the Place du Carrousel by a runaway⁵⁶ horse, and was recognized by a policeman, who ran to his assistance. But Fouché, who was at once informed, not only of his presence in France, but also of his actual hiding-place, pretended to know nothing of him.
 
A few days after the 18th Brumaire, Maret, who became later the Duc de Bassano, Laplace, who continued to be simply a man of science, and Regnault de Saint-Jean-d’Angely, who died mad, spoke⁵⁷ to the First Consul of M. de Fontanes and of his presence in Paris,
 
“Present him to me,” replied the First Consul simply.
 
M. de Fontanes was presented to Bonaparte, who, recognizing his supple⁵⁸ nature and the unctuous⁵⁹ flattery of his eloquence, chose him to deliver the eulogy on Washington, and perhaps something of his own at the same time.
 
M. de Fontanes’ address was too long to be reported here; all that we shall say about it is, that it was precisely⁶⁰ what Bonaparte desired.
 
That evening there was a grand reception at the Luxembourg. During the ceremony a rumor⁶¹ was s............