Chapter VIII: The Alps--The Empire--The Coronation. 1800-1804 - Page 2

the deuce it is to be done without advertising I don't know. Go, and remember that I shall be at home to assassins on Thursdays of alternate weeks until further notice."

"Your Consulship's wishes shall be respected," said Fouche, with a low bow. "But I must say one word in my own behalf. You were to have had a dynamite bomb thrown at you yesterday by one of my employes, but the brave fellow who was to have stood between you and death disappointed me. He failed to turn up at the appointed hour, and so, of course, the assault didn't come off."

"Couldn't you find a substitute?" demanded Bonaparte.

"I could not," said Fouche. "There aren't many persons in Paris who care for that kind of employment. They'd rather shovel snow."

"You are a gay stage-manager, you are!" snapped Bonaparte. "My brother Joseph is in town, and yet you say you couldn't find a man to be hit by a bomb. Leave me, Fouche. You give me the ennuis."

Fouche departed with Talleyrand, to whom he expressed his indignation at the First Consul's reprimand.

"He insists upon an attempted assassination every week," he said; "and I tell you, Talleyrand, it isn't easy to get these things up. The market is long on real assassins, fellows who'd kill him for the mere fun of hearing his last words, but when it comes to playing to the galleries with a mock attempt with real consequences to the would-be murderers, they fight shy of it."

Nevertheless, Fouche learned from the interview with Bonaparte that the First Consul was not to be trifled with, and hardly a day passed without some exciting episode in this line, in which, of course, Napoleon always came out unscathed and much endeared to the populace. This, however, could not go on forever. The fickle French soon wearied of the series of unsuccessful attempts on the Consul's life, and some began to suspect the true state of affairs.

"They're on to our scheme, General," said Fouche, after a while. "You've got to do something new."

"What would you suggest?" asked Napoleon, wearily.

"Can't you write a book of poems, or a three-volume novel?" suggested Talleyrand.

"Or resign, and let Sieyes run things for a while?" said Fouche. "If they had another Consul for a few months, they'd appreciate what a vaudeville show they lost in you."

"I'd rather cross the Alps," said Bonaparte. "I don't like to resign. Moving is such a nuisance, and I must say I find the Tuileries a very pleasant place of abode. It's more fun than you can imagine rummaging through the late king's old bureau-drawers. Suppose I get up a new army and lead it over the Alps."

"Just the thing," said Talleyrand. "Only it will be a very snowy trip."