was one of the most remarkable traits in his character. It is not
strange that he should have won from her a love almost more than
human. During the exciting scenes of this day, when no one could
tell whether events were guiding him to a crown or to the guillotine,
Napoleon did not forget his wife, who was awaiting the result,
with deep solicitude, in her chamber in the Rue Chanteraine. Nearly
every hour he dispatched a messenger to Josephine, with a hastily
written line communicating to her the progress of events. Late at
night he returned to his home, apparently has fresh and unexhausted
as in the morning. He informed Josephine minutely of the scenes of
the day, and then threw himself upon a sofa, for an hour's repose.
Early the next morning he was on horseback, accompanied by a regal
retinue, directing his steps to St. Cloud. Three halls had been
prepared in the palace; one for the Ancients, one for the Five
Hundred, and one for Napoleon. He thus assumed the position which
he knew it to be the almost unanimous will of the nation that
he should fill. During the night the Jacobins had arranged a very
formidable resistance. Napoleon was considered to be in imminent
peril. He would be denounced as a traitor. Sieyes and Ducos had
each a post-chaise and six horses, waiting at the gate of St. Cloud,
prepared, in case of reverse, to escape for life. There were many
ambitious generals, ready to mount the crest of any refluent wave
to sweep Napoleon to destruction. Benadotte was the most to be
feared. Orders were given to cut down the first person who should
attempt to harangue the troops. Napoleon, riding at the head of
this imposing military display, manifested no agitation. He knew,
however, perfectly well the capriciousness of the popular voice,
and that the multitude in the same hour could cry "Hosanna!" and
"crucify!" The two Councils met. The tumult in the Five Hundred was
fearful. Cries of "Down with the dictator!" "Death to the tyrant!"
"Live the Constitution!" filled the hall, and drowned the voice of
deliberation. The friends of Napoleon were swept before the flood
of passion. It was proposed that every member should immediately
take anew the oath to support the Constitution. No one dared to peril
his life by the refusal. Even Lucien, the Speaker, was compelled
to descend from his chair and take the oath. The Ancients, overawed
by the unexpected violence of this opposition in the lower and more
popular house, began to be alarmed and to recede. The opposition
took a bold and aggressive stand, and proposed a decree of outlawry
against Napoleon. The friends of Napoleon, remembering past scenes
of earnage, were timid and yielding. Defeat seemed inevitable.
Victory was apparently turned into discomfiture and death. In this
emergency Napoleon displayed the same coolness, energy, and tact
with which so often, on the field of battle, in the most disastrous
hour, he had rolled back the tide of defeat in the resplendent
waves of victory. His own mind was the corps de reserve which he
now marched into the conflict to arrest the rout of his friends.
Taking with him a few aids and a band of grenadiers, he advanced
to the door of the hall. On his way he met Bernadotte. "You are
marching to the guillotine, " said his rival, sternly. "We shall
see," Napoleon coolly replied. Leaving the soldiers, with their
glittering steel and nodding plumes, at the entrance of the room,
he ascended the tribune. The hush of perfect silence pervaded the
agitated hall. "Gentlemen," said he, "you are on a volcano. You
deemed the Republic in danger. You called me to your aid. I obeyed.
And now I am assailed by a thousand calumnies. They talk of Caesar,
of Cromwell, of military despotism, as if any thing in antiquity
resembled the present moment.
Danger presses. Disaster thickens. We have no longer a government.
The Directors have resigned. The Five Hundred are in a tumult.
Emissaries are instigating Paris to revolt. Agitators would gladly
bring back the revolutionary tribunals. But fear not. Aided by my
companions in arms I will protect you. I desire nothing for myself,
but to save the Republic. And I solemnly swear to protect that
liberty and equality , for which we have made such sacrifices."
"And the Constitution !" some one cried out. Napoleon had purposely
omitted the Constitution in his oath, for he despised it, and was
at that moment laboring for its overthrow. He paused for a moment,
and then, with increasing energy exclaimed, "The institution! you
have none. You violated when the Executive infringed the rights
of the Legislature. You violated it when the Legislature struck
at the independence of the Executive. You violated it when, with
sacriligious hand, both the Legislature and Executive struck at
the sovereignty of the people, by annulling their elections. The
Constitution! It is a mockery; invoked by all, regarded by none."
Rallied by the presence of Napoleon, and by these daring words,
his friends recovered their courage, and two-thirds of the Assembly
rose in expression of their confidence and support. At this moment
intelligence arrived that the Five Hundred were compelling Lucien
to put to the vote Napoleon's outlawry. Not an instant was to be
lost. There is a mysterious power in law. The passage of that vote
would probably have been fatal. Life and death were trembling in
the balance. "I would then have given two hundred millions," said
Napoleon, "to have had Ney by my side." Turning to the Ancients,
he exclaimed, "if any orator, paid by foreigners, shall talk of
outlawing me, I will appeal for protection to my brave companions
in arms, whose plumes are nodding at the door. Remember that I
march accompanied by the God of fortune and by the God of war."
He immediately left the Ancients, and, attended by his military
band, hastened to the Council of Five Hundred. On his way he met
Augereau, who was pale and trembling, deeming Napoleon lost. "You
have got yourself into a pretty fix," said he, with deep agitation.
"Matters were worse at Arcola," Napoleon coolly replied. "Keep quiet.
All will be changed in half an hour." Followed by his grenadiers,
he immediately entered the Hall of the Five Hundred. The soldiers
remained near the door. Napoleon traversed alone half of the room
to reach the bar. It was an hour in which nothing could save him
but the resources of his own mind. Furious shouts rose from all
parts of the house. "What means this! down with the tyrant! begone!"
"The winds," says Napoleon, "suddenly escaping from the caverns of
Aeolus can give but a faint idea of that tempest." In the midst of
the horrible confusion he in vain endeavored to speak. The members,
in the wildest fray, crowded around him. The grenadiers witnessing
the peril of their chief rushed to his rescue. A dagger was struck
at his bosom. A soldier, with his arm, parried the blow. With their
bayonets they drove back the members, and encircling Napoleon, bore
him from the Hall. Napoleon had hardly descended the outer steps
ere some one informed him that his brother Lucien was surrounded by
the infuriated deputies, and that his life was in imminent jeopardy.
"Colonel Dumoulin," said he, "take a battalion of grenadiers and
hasten to my brother's deliverance." The soldiers rushed into the
room, drove back the crowd who, with violent menaces, were surrounding
Lucien, and saying, "It is by your brother's commands," escorted
him in safety out of the ball into the court-yard. Napoleon, now
mounting his horse, with Lucien by his side, rode along in front
of his troops." The Council of Five Hundred," exclaimed Lucien,
"is dissolved. It is I that tell you so. Assassins have taken
possession of the hall of meeting. I summon you to march and clear
it of them." "Soldiers!" said Napoleon, "can I rely upon you!"
.......... "Long live Bonaparte," was the simultaneous response
Murat took a battalion of grenadiers and marched to the entrance of
the hall. When Murat headed a column it was well known that there
would be no child's play. "Charge bayonets, forward!" he exclaimed,
with imperturbable coolness. The drums beat the charge. Steadily
the bristling line of steel advanced. The terrified representatives
leaped over the benches, rushed through the passage ways, and sprang
out of the windows, throwing upon the floor, in their precipitate
flight, gowns, scarfs, and hats. In two minutes the hall was cleared.
As the Representatives were flying in dismay across the garden, on
officer proposed that the soldiers should be ordered to fire upon
them. Napoleon decisively refused, saying, "It is my wish that not
a single drop of blood be split."
As Napoleon wished to avail himself as far as possible, of the forms
of law, he assembled the two legislative bodies in the evening.
Those only attended who were friendly to his cause. Unanimously
they decreed that Napoleon had deserved well of his country; they
abolished the Directory. The executive power they vested in Napoleon,
Sieyes, and Ducos, with the title of Consuls. Two committees of
twenty-five members each, taken from the two Councils, were appointed
to co-operate with the Consuls in forming a new Constitution. During
the evening the rumor reached Paris that Napoleon had failed in his
enterprise. The consternation was great. The mass of the people,
of all ranks, dreading the renewal of revolutionary horrors, and
worn out with past convulsions, passionately longed for repose Their
only hope was in Napoleon. At nine o'clock at night intelligence of
the change of government was officially announced, by a proclamation
which the victor had dictated with the rapidity and the glowing
eloquence which characterized all of his mental acts. It was read
by torchlight to assembled and deeply agitated groups, all over
the city. The welcome tidings were greeted with the liveliest
demonstrations of applause. At three o'clock in the morning Napoleon
threw himself into his carriage to return to Paris. Bourrienne
accompanied him. Napoleon appeared so absorbed in thought, that he
uttered not one single word during the ride.
At four o'clock in the morning he alighted from his carriage,
at the door of his dwelling in the Rue Chanteraine. Josephine, in
the greatest anxiety, was watching at the window for his approach.
Napoleon had not been able to send her one single line during the
turmoil and the peril of that eventful day. She sprang to meet him.
Napoleon foundly encircled her in his arms, briefly recapitulated
the scenes of the day, and assured her that since he had taken the
oath of office, he had not allowed himself to speak to a single
individual, for he wished that the beloved voice of his Josephine
might be the first to congratulate him upon his virtual accession
to the Empire of France. The heart of Josephine could appreciate
a delicacy of love so refined and so touching. Well might she say,
"Napoleon is the most fascinating of men." It was then after four
o'clock in the morning. The dawn of the day to conduct Napoleon to
a new scene of Herculean toil in organizing the Republic Throwing
himself upon a couch, for a few moments of repose, he exclaimed,
gayly, "good-night, my Josephine! To-morrow, we sleep in the palace
of the Luxembourg."
Napoleon was then but twenty-nine years of age. And yet, under
circumstances of inconceivable difficulty, with unhesitating reliance
upon his own mental resources, he assumed the enormous care of
creating and administering a Lew government for thirty millions
of people. Never did he achieve a victory which displayed more
consummate genius. On no occasion of his life did his majestic
intellectual power beam forth with more brilliance. It is not to
be expected that, for ages to come, the world will be united in
opinion respecting this transaction. Some represent it as an outrage
against law and liberty. Others consider it a necessary act which
put an end to corruption and anarchy. That the course which Napoleon
pursued was in accordance with the wished of the overwhelming
majority of the French people on one can doubt. It is questionable
whether, even now, France is prepared for self-government. There
can be no question that then the republic had totally failed.
Said Napoleon, in reference to this revolution, "For my part, all
my share of the plot, was confined to assembling the crowd of my
visitors at the same hour in the morning, and marching at their
head to seize upon power. It was from the threshold of my door, and
without my friends having any previous knowledge of my intentions,
that I led them to this conquest. p It was amidst the brilliant
escort which they formed, their lively joy and unanimous ardor,
that I presented myself a the bar of the Ancients to thank them for
the dictatorship with which they invested me. Metaphysicians have
disputed and will long dispute, whether we did not violate the laws,
and whether we were not criminal. But these are mere abstractions
which should disappear before imperious necessity. One might as well
blame a sailor for waste and destruction, when he cuts away a mast
to save his ship. the fact is, had it not been for us the country
must have been lost. We saved it. The authors of that memorable
state transaction ought to answer their accusers proudly, like the
Roman, 'We protest that we have saved our country. Come with us
and render thanks to the Gods.'"
With the exception of the Jacobins all parties were strongly
in favor of this revolution. For ten years the people had been so
accustomed to the violation of the laws, that they had ceased to
condemn such acts, and judged of them only by their consequences.
All over France the feeling was nearly universal in favor of the
new government. Says Alison, who surely will not be accused of
regarding Napoleon with a partial eye, "Napoleon rivaled Caesar in
the elemency with which he used his victory. No proscriptions or
massacres, few arrests or imprisonments followed the triumph of
order over revolution. On the contrary, numerous acts of merey, as
wise as they were magnanimous, illustrated the rise of the consular
throne. The elevation of Napoleon was not only unstained by blood,
but not even a single captive long lamented the car of the victor.
A signal triumph of the principles of humility over those of cruelty,
glorious alike to the actors and the age in which it occurred: and
a memorable proof how much more durable are the victories obtained
by moderation and wisdom, than those achieved by violence
and stained by blood." ˜