CHAPTER XXXV.

DEATH OF ROBESPIERRE.

Eight months after the events of Thermidor just described, I, John

Lebrenn, write this chapter of the story of the Sword of Honor, on the

26th Germinal, year III of the Republic (April 15, 1795).

Escaped from my prison, I lay for several weeks in hiding in a retreat

offered me by the friendship of Billaud-Varenne; to him I also owed a

passport made out in another name, thanks to which I was enabled to

leave Paris, gain Havre, and there take a coasting vessel for Vannes. I

chose Vannes as a haven not alone because I was unknown in that retired

community, but because it was close by the cradle of our family, towards

which, after such excitement and such cruel political deception, I felt

myself strongly attracted. At the end of about a month's sojourn in

Vannes, certain then that I could continue to dwell there without

danger, I wrote to my wife to rejoin me in Brittany, with her mother and

our son, whom she had named Marik, and who was born the 7th Vendemiaire,

year III. Thus I had the joy of being soon reunited with my family. My

wife brought with her the inestimable treasure of our domestic legends,

happily preserved from the clutches of Jesuit Morlet. My wound, received

at the battle of the Lines of Weissenburg, having reopened, I was for

some time almost helpless, and was forced to give up my trade of

ironsmith. Madam Desmarais was able to lay out for us some moneys, and

Charlotte proposed that they be expended in setting up a linen-drapery

and cloth store in Vannes.

This business afforded my wife and mother-in-law an occupation in line

with their tastes and aptitudes. For my part I was able, although still

very lame, to drive about in a carriage to the various markets and out

into the country, to dispose of our cloth. Everything gave me to hope

that my obscure name was forgotten in the hurly-burly of the

Thermidorean reaction.

A short time after the arrival here of my cherished wife, we made a

pilgrimage to the sacred stones of Karnak; we found them as they had

lain for so many centuries. You will undertake that same pilgrimage for

yourself when you have attained the age of reason, my son Marik, you to

whom I bequeath this legend of the Sword of Honor, which I add to the

relics of my family.

I conclude my recital of the events of the bourgeois revolution of 1789

with a few words on the last moments of the martyrs of the 9th

Thermidor, the words of a hostile eye witness. What could be more

touching than his account:

"Robespierre the elder was carried to the City Hall, to the

Committee of Public Safety, on the 10th Thermidor, between the

hours of one and two in the morning. He was carried in on a board,

by several artillerymen and armed citizens. He was placed on a

table in the audience hall which lay in front of the executive

room of the committee. A pine box, which held some samples of bread

sent from the Army of the North, was placed under his head and

served in some sort as a pillow. He lay for the space of nearly an

hour so immobile that one might think he had ceased to live. Then

he began to open his eyes. Blood flowed freely from the wound in

his lower left jaw. The jawbone was shattered by a pistol shot. His

shirt was bloody; he was hatless and cravatless. He wore a sky-blue

coat, and trousers of nankeen; his white stockings were rolled down

to his shoes. Between three and four in the morning they noticed

that he held in his hand a little bag of white skin, inscribed 'At

the Grand Monarch; Lecourt, outfitter to the King and his troops,

St. Honore Street, near Poulies Street, Paris.' This sack he used

to dispose of the clotted blood which came from his mouth. The

citizens surrounded him, observing all his movements. Some of them

even gave him a piece of white linen paper, which he put to the

same use, keeping himself ever propped up on his left elbow, and

using only his right hand. Two or three different times he was

scolded at by citizens, but especially by a cannonier of the same

district as himself, who reproached him, with military vigor, for

his perfidy and scoundrelism. Towards six in the morning a surgeon

who happened to be in the courtyard of the National Palace was

called in to tend him. For precaution he placed a key in

Robespierre's mouth, and found that his jaw was fractured. He drew

two or three teeth, bandaged the wound, and had a hand-basin with

water placed beside him. Robespierre made use of this, and also of

pieces of paper folded several times, to clean out his mouth,

still employing only his right hand. At the moment when it was

least expected, he sat up, raised his stockings, slid quickly from

the table, and ran to seat himself in an arm-chair. As soon as

seated he asked for water and some clean linen. During all the time

he had lain on the table, after he regained consciousness, he

fixedly regarded all who surrounded him, especially those employes

of the Committee of Public Safety whom he recognized. He often

raised his eyes toward the platform; but apart from some almost

convulsive movements, the bystanders constantly remarked in him a

great impassibility, even during the dressing of his wound, which

must have caused him the severest pain. His complexion, habitually

bilious, assumed the pallor of death.

"At nine o'clock in the morning Couthon, and Gombeau, a conspirator

of the Commune, were brought in on stretchers as far as the big

staircase of the Committee, where they were deposited. The citizens

detailed to watch them stood about, while a commissioner and an

officer of the National Guard went to report to Billaud-Varenne,

Barrere and Collot D'Herbois, then sitting in committee. They took

an order to these three calling for Robespierre, Couthon and

Gombeau to be removed at once to the Conciergerie Prison, a decree

which was immediately carried out by the good citizens to whom had

been confided the guard over the three prisoners.

"St. Just and Dumas were taken before the Committee in the audience

hall, and at once taken on to the Conciergerie by those who had

brought them in. St. Just gazed at the large engrossing of the

Declaration of the Rights of Man, and said, as he pointed towards

it, 'Yet it was I who got that passed!'

"Such was the downfall of Robespierre. His agony was more cruel

than his death. His erstwhile colleagues on the committees insulted

him, struck at him, spat in his face; the clerks of the bureau

pricked him with their penknives."

So died Robespierre by the guillotine. Let us glorify, sons of Joel, the

memory of this great citizen, the Incorruptible revolutionist. And as

sacred for us let the memory be of the other illustrious martyr-victims

of Thermidor, like St. Just, Lebas, Couthon, Robespierre the younger; or

martyrs obscure, like that throng of patriots whose blood flowed from

the scaffold in torrents during the Four Days. The reaction of Thermidor

smote with the guillotine without judgment; it assassinated the greater

part of the last defenders of the Republic.

PART III.

NAPOLEON

CHAPTER I.

THE WHITE TERROR.

To-day, the 22nd of September, 1830, the thirty-eighth anniversary of

the foundation of the French Republic in 1792, I, John Lebrenn, arrived

at the sixtieth year of my life, add these pages to the legend of the

Sword of Honor.

I have been for long back in Paris, established with my family in St.

Denis Street. During my stay in Brittany, beginning after the days of

Thermidor, 1794, I kept track of the more important historical events by

means of the journals of the period. Later, on my return to Paris, I

re-entered political life and took part in the events of the Eighteenth

Brumaire, the Hundred Days, and the Revolution of 1830. In the following

pages I shall endeavor to reproduce briefly the principal deeds of these

three epochs--1800, 1815, and 1830.

Should I depart this life before the completion of my task, my son Marik

Lebrenn, now arrived in his thirty-seventh year, will supply my place in

the work, aided thereto by the material and notes left by me, and by his

own memories. I have postponed from year to year this continuation to

our family legends, awaiting the accomplishment of the two prophecies

which hover ever above these accounts. One has been realized, in the

period from 1800 to 1814; the other has had but one approach toward

success--in July of this present year 1830.

* * * * *

Alas, we have already seen the sinister fulfilment of the prophecy of

Robespierre the Incorruptible, the martyr of Thermidor--'_The brigands

have triumphed, the Revolution is lost._' The reins of the Revolution

fell into hands that were corrupt, perfidious, criminal. The national

representation was debauched, annihilated in the month of Brumaire by

Bonaparte; _military despotism seized the power, and civil war desolated

the country_.

The second prophecy of our family records--that there should be no more

Kings--had already begun to move towards fulfilment. Since 1793 the

tradition of republicanism had struck in the people's minds roots that

were live, deep, and indestructible. The people protested against the

Consulate of Bonaparte by the conspiracy of Topino Lebrun and Arena; it

protested against the Empire by forming the secret society of the

_Philadelphians_ and by the conspiracy of General Mallet; it protested

against the Restoration by several conspiracies, among them that of the

four sergeants of La Rochelle.

Let us rest firm in the assurance that, despite these eclipses, the star

of the Republic will yet rise over France, over the world, and our

children will yet greet the appearance of the United States of Europe,

the Universal Republic.

Meanwhile the disinherited shuddered and trembled before the fury of the

counter-revolution. At Avignon, at Lyons, at Marseilles, prisoner

patriots were massacred without even the excuse the latter had when in

September they put the traitors to death in the name of public safety

and of the fatherland, menaced from without and within. The victims of

the royalist reaction were ten times as numerous as those of the Terror.

The murders of Lyons pass all belief, and that in time of peace, without

provocation or cause. In one single day and in one single prison one

hundred and ninety-seven prisoners, among whom were three women, were

assassinated by the royalist dandies known as the Jeunesse Doree, or

"Gilded Youth." At Marseilles, at the St. John Fortress, two hundred and

ten patriots were slashed to pieces or burned in the same day.

But let us draw the veil over these saturnalia of blood, these orgies of

the White Terror, and compose our minds in thoughts of the republican

armies. Our armies learned with grief of the fall of Robespierre; but

then, submissive to the civil and military powers, and respecting the

decrees of the Convention, they accepted the Thermidor government; and

under the command of Hoche, Marceau, Jourdan, Moreau, Augereau, and

Joubert, they continued to battle against the coalized Kings. Holland,

freed by our arms, set itself up anew as a Republic; Prussia and Spain

sued for peace and obtained it; the royalists, encouraged by the

reaction, attempted again to arouse the Vendee, with the support of the

English, who made a descent upon Quiberon; but Hoche snuffed out that

civil war in its first flickers. The Convention modified on the 15th

Thermidor, year III (August 2, 1795), the Constitution of 1793. The mass

of the proletariat was stripped of its political rights. According to

the Constitution of 1793, all citizens twenty-one years old, born and

living in France, were electors, and members of the sovereign people;

according to the Constitution of 1795, on the contrary, it was necessary

to pay a direct tax in order to be eligible to the electoral right. The

Constitution of the year III, further, divided the legislative power

into two bodies, the Council of Five Hundred, and the Council of

Ancients; to be a member of the latter, one must have attained the age

of forty. The executive power, or Directorate, was to be composed of

five members, chosen by the Councils, which were themselves elected by a

taxpayers' and indirect vote, in two degrees. Primary assemblies

nominated electors, and these latter chose the deputies to the Councils.

The imposition of a tax qualification excluded the proletariat from the

count, and delivered it up to the will of a reactionary bourgeoisie;

hence the royalist party had not the slightest doubt of the success of

its candidates. The majority of the old Convention, composed in part of

lukewarm oligarchic republicans, but in the main of corrupted

legislators who were opposed to a restoration of the monarchy (whose

vengeance they feared, most of them having been regicides), attempted to

obviate the certain success of the royalists by decreeing that

two-thirds of the old members must be re-elected. This restraint imposed

upon the freedom of the ballot was at once iniquitous and absurd, and

paved the way for a new civil war. The Constitution of the year III and

the clause relative to the re-election of two-thirds of the members of

the Convention was submitted to the sanction of the primary assemblies,

composed of taxpayers. Among these, thanks to the exclusion of the

proletariat, the reaction was on top. Certain of a majority in the

approaching elections, and expecting consequently to control both the

Councils and Directorate, the reaction had anticipated dealing the last

blows to the expiring Republic, and re-establishing the monarchy. But

defeated in their hope by the decree rendering obligatory the

re-election of two-thirds of the Conventionals, the royalists incited

the primary assemblies against this decree. On the 11th Vendemiaire,

year IV (October 3, 1795) the bourgeois and aristocratic Sections of the

center of Paris--Daughters of St. Thomas and Hill of the Mills among

others--came to the front of the movement, and a horde of Emigrants and

ex-suspects raised an insurrection. The rebels declared the decree

compelling the re-election of two-thirds of the old Conventionals an

assault upon the rights of the 'sovereign people'; they took up arms and

organized a council of resistance under the presidency of the Duke of

Nivernais. The Convention named a committee of defense and called to its

assistance the patriots of the suburbs. Twelve or fifteen hundred

patriots responded to the appeal. The royalists, to the number of forty

thousand men, or thereabouts, under the command of Generals Danican,

Duhoux, and the ex-bodyguard Lafond, marched against the troops of the

Convention, and won at first some advantage over them. Barras,

commander-in-chief of the forces at the disposal of the Assembly, called

to his staff a young artillery officer named Bonaparte, whose military

renown dated from the siege of Toulon. The latter hastily brought up the

cannon from the camp of Sablons, made an able strategic disposition of

his forces, and, with the aid of the patriots of '93, wiped out the

royalist insurrection before the Church of St. Roche, on the 13th

Vendemiaire, year IV. The Convention employed its last session in

organizing the Councils; that of the Ancients was composed of two

hundred and fifty members; the remaining elected deputies formed the

Council of the Five Hundred.

The members of the Directorate elected by these Councils were Carnot,

Rewbell, Lareveillere-Lepaux, Letourneur, and Barras--all of them,

except Barras, men of honesty, only moderate republicans, but sincere.

The 4th Brumaire, year IV (October 26, 1795), the Convention pronounced

its own dissolution. It had been in session since the proclamation of

the Republic, September 21, 1792.

CHAPTER II.

COLONEL OLIVER.

The studio of Citizen Martin, painter, member of the Council of Five

Hundred, and former captain and then battalion commander of the Paris

Volunteers who fought at Weissenburg, was decorated in martial fashion

with pictures and sketches depicting episodes in the republican wars,

placed here and there on easels; models of antique statuary and studies

of nature graced the walls. On one side was a gay display composed of

the epaulets of Commander Martin, his arms of war, and his military hat,

whose two bullet holes bore witness to its wearer's intrepidity. One

morning early in November, 1799, the painter himself was gladsomely

embracing John Lebrenn, who had just deposited on a stool the traveling

bag he carried.

"Well, but I'm glad to see you, my friend," said John warmly, "after so

many chances and such a long separation!"

"It was made less grievous for me," rejoined Martin, "by our

correspondence. What is the news of your worthy wife, your little Marik,

and Madam Desmarais?"

"They were all well when I left them."

"And your cloth business--does it prosper as you would wish?"

"Our labor furnishes us the means to supply our modest wants; we desire

nothing more. Our life is rolling on peacefully at Vannes, that old town

of Armorica, the cradle of our family."

"I know how greatly the country should please you."

"And nevertheless, we must soon leave our nest, for it is impossible

there to give my son a suitable education. In a year or two, or perhaps

even sooner, we shall return to Paris, where we shall continue our

Breton cloth commerce. Such, at least, is my intention and that of my

dear wife and her mother."

"Hurrah! May your plan be realized, the sooner the better, my dear

friend. Then we shall no longer be reduced to a correspondence for

consolation."

"Your last letters," replied John, "decided me to come to Paris, seeing

the Republic was in danger of perishing. I think I could be useful to

you in such a case, and also perhaps to the Republic, by still pulling a

trigger against her enemies."

"The political situation is indeed grave. Nevertheless, there is no

ground for fearing a catastrophe very soon. In the Council of Five

Hundred there is an imposing republican majority; we are decided to

preserve liberty, and to fight the clericals, Jesuits and monarchists to

the finish."

"I doubt not your energy nor that of your friends; but the Republic has

now been for some time deprived of the popular element, its life, its

spirit, its strength."

"True; since Thermidor a great gap has been made in the republican

ranks. You may be sure that General Bonaparte, for all his military

renown, would never have dared affront Vergniaud, Danton, or

Robespierre, had they been in the Council of Five Hundred. At their

voice the people would rise in arms, and the ambitious dictator would be

sent before the revolutionary tribunal."

"Belated regrets, my friend. But explain to me how it is that the

Directorate, knowing full well the intrigues organized in Napoleon's

favor by his brothers, by Fouche, and by that former Bishop Talleyrand,

than whom no meaner rascal ever lived--how the Directorate was so weak

as not to send this General Bonaparte before a court-martial, guilty as

he was of deserting the army in Egypt, more than six hundred leagues

from France? In the height of the Convention such an act would not have

passed unpunished."

"For this weakness of the Directorate, and our own indecision in the

Council of Five Hundred, there are many causes. Sieyes is the soul of

the conspiracy against the Constitution of the year III, which he

himself framed, while we republicans rather defend that Constitution,

defective as it is, in order not to throw the Republic open to new

dangers. Sieyes, a member of the Directorate, and Roger Ducos, his

colleague and accomplice, are at the head of the sworn enemies of the

present Constitution. Among these oppositionists are the majority of the

Council of Ancients and some members of the Council of Five Hundred;

then come a crowd of intriguers of all sorts, stock brokers, men with

frayed reputations, get-rich-quick contractors, bourgeois weather-vanes,

corruptionists, harpies, repentant Terrorists, like Fouche and your

brother-in-law Desmarais, who is now a member of the Council of

Ancients. Sieyes's object is to overthrow the Constitution of the year

III by a coup d'etat and replace it by a bourgeois oligarchy; on top of

which would come a constitutional monarchy similar to that of '92, and

then it would be done for the Republic. That is the plan of the

opposition. Now here is the situation of us republicans, who constitute

the majority of the Council of Five Hundred. We count on the support of

two members of the Directorate, Moulins and Gohier, devoted to the

Republic. Then in case of a conflict, we have cause to hope that General

Bernadotte, whose influence may serve to blanket Bonaparte's, will march

on our side. The Council of Five Hundred has, moreover, for braces, the

remains of the several republican parties--Girondins, Mountainists,

Jacobins, Terrorists--as well as a large number of former members of the

Commune who escaped the scaffold after Thermidor, and belong to the

bourgeoisie--men of progress and free thought."

"And the people," inquired John again, "the workingmen of the suburbs,

are they also sunk in inertia? They should form a strong element for

you."

"Alas, they live indifferent to public affairs, except some workingmen

in Santerre's brewery and some old sans-culottes, such as your old

foreman Castillon--whom you will no doubt see this morning, as I

notified him of your arrival."

"Thank you, friend, for having arranged this pleasure for me. I shall be

happy to see our brave Castillon."

"He is still the industrious and honest artisan of yore; only, credulous

and naive as a veritable child of the people, he is like so many other

sincere republicans, a great partisan of Bonaparte's."

"Castillon, once so devoted to the Republic!"

"Exactly, since there is not a better republican--God save the

mark!--than this very General Bonaparte, according to Castillon and his

friends."

Just then Martin's servant entered to hand him a letter, saying: "An

ordnance dragoon has just brought this epistle, citizen, and awaits your

answer."

Martin tore open the envelope and read aloud:

"Perhaps you recall, sir, an under-officer in the Third Hussars,

who in the days of terrorism when the nation's honor sought refuge

in the armies, fought with you in the defense of a battery at the

battle of Weissenburg. This under-officer has made his way. He has

had the happy fortune of serving under the orders of the greatest

captain of ancient and modern times, on whom to-day hangs the

safety of France.

"Knowing, sir, your renown as a painter of battles, I desire to

engage you on a picture. I beg you to let me know at what hour

to-day you can grant me an interview on the subject of this work,

on which you may set your own price.

"Accept, sir, my best sentiments,

"OLIVER,

"Colonel of the Seventh Dragoons, aide-de-camp to General

Bonaparte.

"Tell the soldier I await his colonel this morning," added Martin to the

domestic, after a moment's thought.

The servant left the studio, and Lebrenn, to whom Martin had passed the

letter, began:

"My sister's forecast, I see, was not wide of the mark. 'Oliver,' she

said to me, 'loves battles. He sees in war only a trade, a means to

carve out a fortune--pride and ambition.' And Oliver has become a

colonel and one of the staff officers of Bonaparte."

"This order for a picture," replied Martin, "is only a pretext to renew

acquaintanceship with me, and attempt to bring me over into the party of

his general."

"Painful as a meeting with Oliver will be, I almost congratulate myself

on the opportunity. Who knows but I may be able to bring home the truth

to him who was once my apprentice, and perhaps, thanks to my old

influence over him, open his eyes to the light?"

"I would like to think, at least, that he will not show himself a

monster of ingratitude toward you. I know all that he owes to your

family, and above all to the devotion of your sister."

"Oliver wrote me several times from Italy to inform me of his rapid

promotion in the army. Then the correspondence gradually died out, and

now for two years I have completely ceased to receive news from him.

Such have been his forgetfulness and ingratitude!"

At this moment who should enter the studio but Castillon, accompanied by

Duchemin, the old quartermaster of the field-artillery of the Army of

the Rhine and Moselle. The latter wore the fatigue uniform of the

artillery, and the straps of his rank; his left arm hung in a scarf. His

face, bronzed by the sun of Egypt, was dark as an Arab's. Unable to

repress his tears of joy, Castillon fell into Lebrenn's arms, crying

"Oh! Friend John!"

"Embrace me, my old Castillon," replied the latter, with unrestrained

warmth. "I find you still as I left you, the best of men."

Lebrenn and his former foreman continued their conversation to one side,

in low tones, while Duchemin said to Martin, who was studying his face

as if seeking to trace a resemblance:

"You don't recognize me, captain?"

"It seems to me I have seen you----" replied Martin dubiously.

"That blasted sun of Egypt has spoiled my complexion, else you'd

remember Duchemin, once cannonier in the Army of the Rhine and Moselle,

where we served together."

"Aye, now I remember you, old comrade," cried the artist, seizing the

other's hand. "And how is Carmagnole--and Reddy?" he added with a grin.

"My poor Reddy--he went the way of Double-grey," sighed the artillerist.

"He died like a brave war-horse. He received a ball in the body at the

battle of Altenkirchen. As to Carmagnole, my sweetheart of a spit-fire,

she split laughing, my pretty piece, while sending a triple charge of

grape-shot into the Austrians. After which, widowed of my Carmagnole, I

set out for the Orient."

"And so you went through the campaign in Egypt?"

"Bad luck to it, yes! A devil of a war! And Bonaparte!--Twist his noose

without drum or trumpet! To leave the army in the lurch! Name of names,

what cries, what shouts there were against the 'Little Corporal,' when

it became known he had abandoned us. Had we caught him, we'd have tied

his necktie for him!"

"_You left Egypt, then, after him?_"

"Three days after, with a convoy of wounded men they were sending back

to France. Our ship had the luck to dodge the English cruisers and

disembark us at Toulon. Thence I demanded to be sent during my recovery

to my old Paris, to see again my St. Antoine and the sans-culottes of

'93. They are not very thick now, but those who are still of this world

are all good and solid, witness comrade Castillon, one of the first I

encountered in the suburb. He told me that he was on his way to visit

you, captain, and as an old soldier of the Rhine and Moselle and a pure

Jacobin, I thought I might be permitted to follow along with him."

"You could not afford me a greater pleasure, comrade," the painter

assented, cordially. "The faithful of '93 are scarce in these times."

"Monsieur Colonel Oliver asks to see you, citizen," announced the

servant.

"Let Colonel Oliver enter. You, Castillon, and you, Duchemin, are going

to St. Antoine to have a talk with Santerre's workmen?"

"To meet here again at eight this evening, and decide what we shall do,

in view of developments," added Lebrenn.

Colonel Oliver was introduced. The brilliant uniform of the dragoons

besat him with natural grace; but his face was haughty, imperious and

rude; every line in it denoted the arrogance of command. He did not at

first recognize, or rather he paid no attention to, Lebrenn, Castillon

and Duchemin; but addressed himself straightway to Martin:

"I am delighted, citizen, to take this opportunity of renewing

acquaintance with an old brother in arms."

"Citizen," politely rejoined Martin, "I am no less happy than yourself

at the circumstance that brings us together, as well as three of our old

comrades of the Army of the Rhine;" and he indicated the three friends.

Greatly surprised, Oliver held out his hand and quickly ran over to

Lebrenn, crying, "Good meeting! You here? How are Madam Lebrenn and your

son?"

"All the family are in good health; my son is growing up, and I hope to

make a good republican out of him."

Castillon now approached, and slapping the colonel familiarly over the

shoulder, called out, "Say now, my boy--has your rank of colonel made

you near-sighted?"

Oliver trembled and turned purple with rage. He looked Castillon up and

down, and replied: "Who are you, sir, to permit yourself such

familiarity?"

"Well, well! Forsooth, it is I, Castillon, your old foreman, who taught

you how to handle a file and hammer a piece of iron, when you were our

apprentice."

"Give you good day, my dear sir, give you good day," retorted Oliver

haughtily and impatiently; and continuing his conversation with Lebrenn:

"And what chance brings you to Paris? Tell me about it."

But Castillon touched Oliver on the arm before he had time to get an

answer, and said: "Say, my boy, have you truly become, to all intents

and purposes, an aristocrat, since you belong to the staff of General

Bonaparte, as Duchemin says, our old comrade of the Lines of

Weissenburg, here, whom you don't seem to recognize either?"

"Hush, my old fellow," said Duchemin in Castillon's ear, "else he will

have the commandant of Paris toss me into the headquarters of police,

and then we won't be able to go to St. Antoine."

After a moment's silence, Colonel Oliver spoke, with difficulty holding

himself in: "I would reply to Monsieur Castillon, that if I was his

apprentice, it is nothing to blush for. He should understand that my age

and the rank I owe to my sword render inappropriate the pleasantries

permissible when I was eighteen."

"Pardon, excuse me, Monsieur the Marquis!" rejoined Castillon, not a

whit put down by Oliver's manner. "Ah, that's how the staff of General

Bonaparte comports itself!"

"As to you, who are still in the service," continued Colonel Oliver

rudely to Duchemin, "do not forget that we put the insolent in cells,

and shoot the unruly."

"I said nothing, Colonel," replied Duchemin quietly.

"Shut your mouth, hang-dog, and go to the devil!"

"Yes, hold your peace, old comrade, and make yourself scarce, since you

have but the choice between a cell and the shooting squad," Castillon

advised Duchemin; and then he turned on Oliver: "As to me, who, as a

private citizen have hanging over me the shadow of neither, nor yet the

awe of gold epaulets, I tell you this, Oliver, son of the people, a poor

orphan, put on your feet by the goodness of our friend John--you contemn

your brothers. A soldier of the Republic, you conspire against her.

You're an ingrate and a traitor! But the day of remorse will come."

"Do not provoke me, wretch, or----" cried Colonel Oliver.

Castillon and Duchemin turned on their heels and went out, Martin

accompanying them to the outer door, as Lebrenn had requested that he be

left alone a few minutes with the colonel. The latter hung his head and

maintained an embarrassed silence.

"Castillon's reproaches seem to have made some impression on you,

Oliver," Lebrenn began, at last.

"Not at all; such insolence does not trouble me. But let us forget the

wretches, and speak of you and your family, my dear Lebrenn."

"Let us speak rather of you, Oliver; let us speak also of my sister,

whose memory should be sacred to you. Her forebodings of your future are

realized; I fear her devotion to you has gone for naught."

"In what may my conduct justify your criticism? Has not my sword been

ever at the service of the Republic?"

"At the service of your ambition! And at the present moment you seem to

be in a mind to sacrifice the Republic."

Oliver responded with a start: "I firmly believe that France has need of

order, repose, stability, and a firm hand. I believe that authority

should be concentrated in the greatest captain of modern times."

"And what are your Bonaparte's titles--for you doubtless mean him--to

the government of France?"

"His victories!"

"But is not the military glory of Hoche, Marceau, Joubert, Massena,

Moreau, Kleber, Augereau, Bernadotte, Desaix, equal to that of your

general? And even if he were the greatest captain the world has ever

seen, it does not follow that he should be given the dictatorship. A

nation should never place its destinies in the hands of one man and

confide to him that exorbitant power, which smites with vertigo even the

hardest heads."

At this juncture Martin returned, and by a look inquired of his friend

the result of his interview with the colonel. Lebrenn shook his head in

the negative. Martin then addressed the officer:

"I would have excused myself, citizen, for my absence just now, had I

not left you in the company of our comrade John. Now I am at your

service. Let us discuss the battle scene you wish to give me the

commission for. Some explanation will be requisite."

"It is a brilliant charge executed by a squadron of my regiment against

the Mamelukes of Hussein Bey. I can furnish you with a sketch of the

field of battle made by one of my officers, and some notes I took on

the feat of arms itself."

"Any such documents would much facilitate my work, and I can, if you

desire it, citizen, commence work in a month--provided," he added with a

smile, "I am not in the meantime banished or shot."

"And why should either of those fates befall you, monsieur?"

"I am one of the Council of Five Hundred, and strongly resolved, like

the majority of my colleagues, to defend the Republic and the

Constitution against all factions. But the defenders of the best cause

may be defeated. In that case, your general, who seems to side with the

conspirators, is capable, in the event of his triumph, of transporting

the republican deputies to Cayenne, or having them shot on the plain of

Grenelle."

"Monsieur, I have still to learn that the vanquisher of Lodi, Arcola,

and the Pyramids is party to a conspiracy. But if he is conspiring, he

has for accomplice the whole of France; and in that case the factious

are those who attempt to oppose themselves to the national will."

Just then Duresnel, the young recruit of the Parisian battalion who

served under Martin at Weissenburg was introduced into the studio. The

colonel brusquely saluted the newcomer together with the two who were

already present and left the apartment.

Duresnel looked at John Lebrenn several seconds, and then cried out:

"Eh! If I am not mistaken, I have the pleasure of meeting, at the house

of a common friend, an old comrade of the Seventh Battalion of

Volunteers?"

"A comrade who was a witness to your first feat of arms, Citizen

Duresnel," rejoined Lebrenn cordially, "when after the charge of the

German cuirassiers upon our battery, you and Castillon took the Grand

Duke of Gerolstein prisoner."

CHAPTER III.

CROSS PURPOSES.

The same day as that on which occurred the scene just described, that is

to say, the 17th Brumaire, year VIII (November 7, 1799), the following

events took place at the home of Monsieur Hubert, banker and member of

the Council of Ancients and uncle to Charlotte. This exponent of high

finance had tenfold increased his fortune by his enterprises in

furnishing supplies to the army, or, in other words, robbing the people

and famishing the soldiers. In conference with the banker was the

reverend Father Morlet; politics was on the carpet.

"My reverend sir," asked Hubert, "will you please to tell me why the

Catholic and royalist party is taking no hand in political affairs? Do

you not comprehend that in supporting the dictatorship of Bonaparte you

deal the last blow to the Republic?"

"And who will profit thereby? Just clarify me on that point."

"He will, as a matter of course."

"Bonaparte's ambition is boundless," returned the Jesuit. "He is not

ignorant that a monarchy which owes its restoration to a Monck has no

more dire need than, as soon as it no longer needs his treasons, to rid

itself of the traitor. It is thus more than probable that General

Bonaparte prefers the role of a Cromwell, or a Caesar. In either of

these two cases we Catholics and royalists must oppose him, for he would

thus put off for a long time the return of the Old Regime. But as, after

all, and in spite of its improbability, there is one chance in a

thousand that he may be looking out for a restoration, we maintain for

the present complete neutrality."

"Monsieur John Lebrenn asks to speak with you, sir," announced a valet.

"John Lebrenn in Paris!--Pray Monsieur Lebrenn to wait an instant!"

cried the banker to the valet, who at once left the room to execute his

master's orders.

"My dear Monsieur Hubert, I am not at all anxious for a meeting with

that red-cap Jacobin, and for reasons of a particular nature," said the

Jesuit.

"Step into my cabinet. Thence you can descend by the little staircase."

"In case of unforeseen developments, write me, or--you know----"

"Oh, I forgot to ask you about the Count of Plouernel."

"He is," replied the Jesuit, "at Vienna, with his wife, who has just

presented him with a son, according to what the Count's brother, the

Bishop _in partibus_, whom you know, has just written me."

"And your god-son, little Rodin?"

"He is growing up under the eye of the Lord. He is in Rome, attending

the seminary of our Society."

The financier conducted Father Morlet to the door of the cabinet, and

then rang for the valet to show in Monsieur Lebrenn at once.

"What can be the motive of my nephew's coming now to Paris?" pondered

Hubert. "I hope he bears no bad news from my poor sister. Her last

letters foreshadowed nothing untoward. Ah, here he is. Welcome, my dear

nephew," he cried as he held out his hand, "welcome! And first of all

put me at ease about my sister and niece. Are they well?"

"Charlotte and her mother are in perfect health," answered Lebrenn.

"They charged me to visit you and tell you so, and I have made it a

point to deliver the message the very day of my arrival. We are living

happily in the peaceful town of Vannes, and still occupied in our cloth

trade."

"From which I conclude that you no longer trouble yourself with

politics. I congratulate you upon your wisdom, my dear nephew. The

Republic is a chimera, as I said long ago. Look at it to-day, as good as

dead, and to-morrow it will have heaved its last sigh. You come just in

time to attend the funeral. May it never rise from its ashes."

"The Republic is like Lazarus in the Scriptures. It may be wrapped in

its shroud, it will burst the stones of its sepulture. But let us leave

politics aside; we are not agreed on the matter, and never will be. I am

asked by my wife and her mother to inquire of you after the health of my

father-in-law, your colleague in the Council of Ancients, of whom we

have no news."

"My brother-in-law is still the same, dragging his miserable life from

apostasy to apostasy, tormented by the fear of death."

"What an existence!"

"He is, indeed, the most cowardly of men, and at the same time the most

talkative and vain of lawyers. Then, his position of Representative of

the people in the Convention, and now as deputy in the Council of

Ancients, flatters his vanity, and furnishes him with the opportunity to

give a loose to his voluble oratory. So, tossed back and forth between

his vanity, which impels him toward the hazards of political life, just

now so tempestuous, and his cowardice, which makes him tremble each day

lest he receive the reward of his apostasies, the miserable fellow's

life is kept, as the Catholics say, in perpetual hell."

"Monsieur Desmarais!" announced the valet.

The lawyer, barely across the threshold, stopped stock still, as

surprised as put out of sorts by the unexpected presence of his

son-in-law; for a moment he was unable to utter a word, and Hubert said

to him sardonically:

"How, brother! Is it so that you greet your son-in-law after so many

years' separation?"

"Monsieur Lebrenn should know," at length replied the lawyer, regaining

his self-assurance, "that a deep gulf separates honest men from the

Jacobins of '93, the Septembrists, Terrorists, Communists, and other

Socialists."

"Citizen Desmarais, we have known each other a long time," retorted

Lebrenn. "You are the father of my dear wife, to whom my life owes its

happiness. Whatever may be your words or your conduct toward me, there

are limits which I shall never exceed in my treatment of you. You

inspire me neither with anger nor hatred, but with a profound pity, for

you are unhappy."

"What insolence! To hear such words issue from the lips of my daughter's

husband, and be unable to punish him for them!"

"My pity for you is very natural," continued Lebrenn. "I pity your

condition because you must feel a cruel chagrin at being separated from

your wife and daughter."

"Scurrilous fellow!" bellowed the attorney, unable to contain himself.

"It is you who came to sow trouble and discord between the members of my

family and me."

"Citizen Desmarais, you are arrived at the decline of life; your

solitude weighs upon you. You regret, you regret each day anew the

sweets of the domestic hearth; our home is and always will be open to

you. Renounce your life in politics, the incessant source of your

anguish and your alarms, because of your lack of steadfastness. Return

to your wife and daughter; they will forget the past. But when fear has

its clutch upon you, you are like a person out of his mind; though you

may be in perfect safety, yet you will perish anyhow. So then, when you

please, Citizen Desmarais, you will find a place at our fireside. You

will enjoy with us an existence as peaceful and happy as your present

one is tortured."

Then to Hubert he added:

"Adieu, citizen. I shall return before my departure, to get your

messages for Vannes."

"Adieu, dear nephew," answered the latter. "Although a Jacobin, you have

my esteem."

CHAPTER IV.

LAYING THE TRAIN.

Late that afternoon conspiracy held high carnival in the parlor of

Lahary, an influential member of the Council of Ancients. The

conspirators present were scattered in groups about the apartment,

engaged in lively conversation, when Hubert the banker and advocate

Desmarais made their entrance upon the scene.

"Messieurs," Lahary was saying, "there are a number of us present. Let

us begin our deliberations. I shall preside. Our colleague Regnier has

the floor."

Regnier at once began: "Gentlemen, yesterday, in a long conference held

at the home of our friend the president of the Council of Ancients,

various opinions were advanced and discussed, but we separated without

having reached any conclusion, setting to-day for the final

deliberation. We should no longer temporize. Time presses; public

opinion, very uneasy, very restless, is watching; it apprehends a coup

d'etat, they say, from moment to moment. This state of mind is

particularly favorable to our projects, only we must make speed to

profit by circumstances, and hasten events. Else the Council of Five

Hundred will steal a march on us and appeal to an insurrection, in the

name of the Constitution in danger. We should thus lose much of our

vantage ground."

"Aye, let us haste," agreed Fouche. "Trust to my long experience. In

revolutions, he who attacks has three chances to one."

"The experience and authority of our friend Fouche in matters of

conspiracy can not be too highly estimated," Regnier hastened to put in.

"I am for attacking, and that to-morrow, the 18th Brumaire. Here is my

project. The Council of Five Hundred is the only real obstacle to the

overthrow of the Constitution, which, it is decided, shall give way to

another form of government, to be determined on later. The Council of

Five Hundred, composed in its immense majority of republicans, is, then,

the stumbling block to our projects. It must be either suppressed or

annihilated."

"It is more than probable that the canaille of the suburbs will not

budge an inch. Nevertheless, let us proceed prudently, as if an

insurrection were really to be feared. Let us get all the police, horse

and foot, upon the field to repress all suggestion of revolt," advised

Fouche.

"To conjure away the peril of an insurrection, this is what I would

propose," Regnier continued. "The Constitution of the year III vests

exclusively in us, the Council of Ancients, the right to appoint or

change the meeting-place of the Assemblies. Let us, in virtue of our

constitutional right, transfer our seat and that of the Five Hundred to

St. Cloud, which we can invest with five or six thousand troops, of

which we will give the command to General Bonaparte. Things thus

prepared, if the Council of Five Hundred refuses to adhere to our most

drastic measures--a refusal who can doubt?--we shall pronounce the

dissolution of their Council, and commission General Bonaparte to carry

out the decree. Triumph is assured--"

"I am authorized by my brother," spoke up a new party to the debate,

Lucien Bonaparte, "to declare to you that if he is placed in supreme

command of the troops he will answer for everything, even to the burning

of Paris."

"Those are extreme measures, but we must not recoil before them. We may

have to burn Paris," chimed in the plotters in chorus.

"Yes, I share the opinion of my colleagues," declared Desmarais the

lawyer. "The Council of Five Hundred, transferred to St. Cloud, becomes

no longer an object of fear. But how can we justify that relegation in

the eyes of the public?"

Fouche smiled sardonically. "Citizen Brutus Desmarais," said he, "you

have forgotten the fifty thousand Septembrists who are in the catacombs!

My spies and my horse police will spread themselves all over Paris

to-morrow trumpeting to the good bourgeois that a tremendous plot has

been unearthed to-night by Monsieur Fouche, Minister of Police. He,

wishing to frustrate the abominable projects of the scoundrels of

Terrorists, who are in league with the Five Hundred, all Jacobins,

warned the Council of Ancients of what was on foot; and the noble

conscript fathers, who would be the first to perish under the daggers of

the bloodthirsty Terrorists, thereupon decided to remove the sessions of

the national representation to St. Cloud."

"Hurrah for the great complot!" shouted Lemercier, opening his mouth for

the first time. "And this reason can well be supported by another, by

insisting above all that the lives of the Council of Ancients are

menaced by their sitting any longer in Paris."

"Yes, yes--on with the 'great conspiracy'!" cried all.

"It is agreed, then," summed up Regnier, "that the discovery of this

plot--excellent invention of the police!--is to justify the removal to

St. Cloud. Now we must see that our project does not miss fire."

"For that purpose we must call a special session of our colleagues of

the Council of Ancients, without informing them of the reason therefor,"

suggested Lemercier.

"I would observe to my honorable colleague, that, to my mind, it would

be a very prudent move not to notify the republican minority which sits

with us in the Council. These fellows would ask the most indiscreet

questions, the most absurd, ridiculous questions. They wouldn't content

themselves with the simple affirmation that there was a plot discovered;

they would ask for proofs of the plot! And the details of its discovery!

It would be most difficult to answer them!" put in Desmarais.

"Desmarais is right," assented Cornet, another of the conspirators. "My

belief is that all of us here present should charge ourselves to go this

evening to see our colleagues of the majority personally, let them know

the reason for to-morrow morning's extraordinary session, and address

letters of notification to them alone. Treason all along the line--our

success depends upon it. Is my advice taken?"

"If the republican minority complains about not being notified, we can

blame the inspectors of the hall," ventured Lemercier.

"It will be necessary, as a matter of precaution, to double the troops

about the Council of Ancients," Lucien Bonaparte advised. "Everything

must be foreseen. Squads of police agents should even be mixed with

them."

"General Bonaparte, more than anyone else, will serve our ends,"

answered Regnier. "We shall count on General Bonaparte; say to him that

he may count on us."

"Ah, there, Lucien," said Fouche with his withered leer, "if your

brother orders the troops to march, how will you, as president of the

Fire Hundred, whom you betray with such neatness and despatch, keep

those prattlers from screeching like jays when they are dissolved?"

"I shall head off the storm, never fear," laughed Lucien.

"And now, dear colleagues," interrupted Regnier, "let us make haste. The

day is nearly gone, and we have not a moment to lose. Let us go on. Who

will undertake to prepare the letters of notification?"

"I," volunteered Lahary, their host. "I shall see the inspectors of the

hall, who are ours. They are all ready to sell themselves."

"My dear Lucien, you will make it your duty to signify to the General

the result of our deliberations?" asked Regnier.

"I am going at once to my brother's, on Victory Street," answered the

young man.

"Who," Regnier continued, "will post the inspectors of the hall to have

the guards doubled to-morrow?"

"I; and I shall reinforce the posts with spies," replied Cornet.

"My other colleagues and I," Regnier went on, "shall partition among us

the task of visiting our friends at once, at their homes, and informing

them of the motive of to-morrow's special session."

"We ought above all to caution them to keep the strictest secrecy about

the affair," counseled Boulay, from the Meurthe district. "Otherwise it

will get noised about, and to-morrow we will see the republican minority

march into the Council with their bothersome questions."

"It must be an absolute secret, and I particularly recommend this to our

friends," assented Regnier.

"And I," Fouche added, "I shall go teach their lesson to my spies and

agents of police, all blackguards and off-scourings, willing to do

anything, if they are well paid."

Meanwhile Desmarais, aside, was saying in Lucien's ear: "And so,

to-morrow evening the greatest captain of modern times, your illustrious

brother, that grand man clad in the dictatorship which he alone can

wield, will decide the form of government it pleases him to bestow upon

France. We shall behold once more the glorious days of the monarchy."

"How! the dictatorship is to fall on Bonaparte!" cried Councillor

Herwin, in surprise.

"We certainly shall not allow General Bonaparte to decide alone on the

form of the government!" declared Cornet.

"What a stupid ass this Desmarais is!" said young Bonaparte to himself.

"Messieurs," he added aloud, "I give you my word of honor as a man, my

brother has no other ambition than to place his genius and his sword at

the service of the Council of Ancients. He is outspokenly republican,

and has no thoughts of a dictatorship."

Despite the reassuring effect of Lucien Bonaparte's words, his fellow

conspirator Regnier thought it wisest also to jump into the breach. "We

won't occupy ourselves, dear colleagues," he said, "with a premature

question. Let us first turn down the Constitution of the year III, and

pronounce the dissolution of the Council of Five Hundred which sustains

it. That done, we shall take further counsel; but first let us triumph

over the common enemy. And now, gentlemen--till to-morrow!"

To cries of "Till to-morrow!" "Till to-morrow, the day of great events!"

the conspirators dispersed.

CHAPTER V.

THE EIGHTEENTH BRUMAIRE.

By eight o'clock on the morning of the 18th Brumaire, year VIII

(November 9, 1799), the Council of Ancients were assembled in their

hall. Several members of the republican minority, which had not been

notified of the session, had nevertheless come to the Assembly, warned

by public rumor of something unusual in the wind. These latter gathered

in a group about the tribunal, engaged in animated conversation.

Lemercier, presiding officer of the Council, sounded his bell; silence

fell upon the assembly, and the members took their seats.

"Messieurs, our colleague Cornet, chairman of the Committee of

Inspectors, has the floor," he said.

Cornet mounted the tribunal and began: "Representatives of the

people:--The confidence you have reposed in your Committee of Inspectors

has laid it under the obligation of watching over your individual

safety, with which the public safety is so closely bound up. For, when

the representatives of a nation are menaced in their persons, so that

they do not enjoy in their deliberations the most absolute independence,

it is no longer a Republic. Your Committee of Inspectors knows that

conspirators are pouring into Paris in swarms; that those who are

already here do but await the signal to bare their poniards against the

representatives of the nation, against the highest authorities and

members of the Republic. In presence of the danger which encompasses

you, Representatives of the people, your committee felt it incumbent

upon it to call you together in special session to inform you thereon;

it felt it to be its duty to spur the deliberations of the Council on in

deciding what part it was to play in these circumstances. The Council of

Ancients holds in its hands the means of saving the country and liberty;

it would be doubting its prudence, it would be doubting its wisdom, to

think that it will not grapple the problem with its accustomed courage

and energy."

"It is inconceivable that neither I nor several of my colleagues

received notice of this convocation of the Assembly. This

omission--voluntary or involuntary--must be explained," interposed

Montmayon, a member of the minority.

"You have not been given the floor!" yelled President Lemercier. "Your

motion is out of order. I give the floor to Monsieur Regnier."

"Representatives of the people," declared the latter when he in turn had

climbed up to the tribunal, "where is the man so stupid as still to

doubt the dangers which encompass us? The proofs have been only too well

multiplied. But this is not the time to unroll their lamentable length.

Time presses! The least delay may prove so fatal that it would then no

longer lie in your power to deliberate on remedies. God forbid that I

should so insult the citizens of Paris as to believe them capable of

assaulting the national representation! On the contrary, I doubt not

but they would protect it with their own bodies, if need were; but this

immense city is nursing within its bosom a horde of brigands, of bold

and desperate scoundrels. They only await, with ferocious impatience,

our first unguarded moment to strike us, and, consequently, to strike at

the heart of the Republic itself."

Great cries of feigned indignation burst from the conspirators. Tumult

rose in the hall. Aside to himself Hubert muttered--"Forward, with

Fouche's Septembrists!"

"If there exists a conspiracy against the Republic--unmask it!" cried a

member of the minority. "Your assertions are without bottom. Let's have

the proofs!"

"You have not got the floor!" again declared President Lemercier.

Regnier continued: "I propose, gentlemen, according to the precise terms

of the Constitution, the following motion and irrevocable decree; and I

propose it to you with all the more confidence that a large number of

our colleagues, honored by our confidence, share my views:

"The Council of Ancients, in virtue of Articles 102, 103, and 104

of the Constitution, decrees the following:

"Article 1.--The legislative body is transferred to the Commune of

St. Cloud. The two Councils, the Five Hundred and the Ancients,

shall there sit in the two wings of the palace.

"Article 2.--They shall have moved by to-morrow, the 19th Brumaire,

at noon. All continuation of functions and deliberations elsewhere

before that time is forbidden.

"Article 3.--General Bonaparte is commissioned to execute the

present decree. He will take all measures necessary for the safety

of the national representation. All the troops are placed under

the command of General Bonaparte; he will be called into the

Council to receive the announcement of the present decree and to

take the oath. He shall act in concert with the Committee of

Inspectors of the two Councils.

"Article 5.--The present decree shall at once be transmitted by

messenger to the Council of Five Hundred and to the executive

Directorate."

The reading of the decree, acclaimed though it was by the intriguing

majority, elicited the most energetic disapproval from the members

present of the republican minority.

Cornudet followed Regnier on the tribunal: "Representatives of the

people, I move the adoption of this address to the French:

"Frenchmen--The Council of Ancients uses its right, delegated to it

by Article 102 of the Constitution, to change the seat of the

legislative body.

"The common safety, the common prosperity, are alone the object of

this constitutional measure. They shall be attained.

"And you, inhabitants of Paris, be calm. In a few days the presence

of the legislative body will be restored to you.

"Frenchmen, the results of this day will soon make it evident

whether the legislative body is worthy of establishing your

happiness, and if worthy, whether it can.

"Long live the people, by whom, and of whom, the Republic has its

existence."

The intriguers rose in mass to adopt this address to the French. In vain

the minority struggled to make their protests heard. They were drowned

out by the clamor raised by the conspirators.

"Ushers, lead General Bonaparte to the bar," ordered President

Lemercier.

Bonaparte was introduced by the ushers. He was clad in the severe

uniform of the generals of the Republic, a blue coat with large lapels,

a scarf tricolored, like the plume in his hat, tight trousers of white

cloth, and high yellow boots coming up to the middle of his calf. The

sickly and bilious complexion of the Corsican general brought out

remarkably the leanness of his countenance, which was furthermore

strongly accentuated by its frame of straight black hair. His look was

inscrutable; it disclosed at once pride and dissimulation, astuteness

and energy. A smile, which varied between insidiousness, mockery and

haughtiness, completed his physiognomy. Generals Berthier, Lefebvre,

Moreau, Macdonald, Murat, Moncey, Beurnonville, Marmont, and several

aides-de-camp, among whom strode Colonel Oliver, escorted Bonaparte.

Their air was one of jauntiness and triumph, and the clatter of their

trailing sabers and their spurred boots on the flagstones of the hall

rang out harshly. Then a profound silence fell upon the Assembly.

"General," quoth President Lemercier, "the Council of Ancients has

summoned you to its bar to impart to you its instructions."

In a voice that was clear and shrill, and marked by a curt and haughty

accent, General Bonaparte answered: "Representatives of the people, the

Republic was perishing. You perceived its plight; your decree has saved

it. Unhappy they who would trouble or disturb it! I shall arrest them,

with the aid of General Lefebvre, General Berthier, and all my

companions in arms. Woe to the seditious!"

Immoderate applause, echoing "Bravos!" on the part of the majority,

greeted this speech. Cries of "Long live General Bonaparte!" were heard.

President Lemercier interrupted the tumult. "General," he said, "the

Council of Ancients receives your oaths. It entertains no doubt of their

sincerity and your zeal to fulfil them. He who never promised the

Republic victories in vain can not but execute with devotion his new

engagement to serve her in all faith and loyalty."

Followed by his staff, General Bonaparte strode from the hall. The

traitor majority rose to its feet with the foresworn cry upon its lips:

"Long live the Republic!"

CHAPTER VI.

IN THE ORANGERY AT ST. CLOUD.

Promptly at noon of the 19th Brumaire the Council of Ancients assembled

in the great gallery of the palace at St. Cloud, still under the

presidency of Lemercier, one of the most active spirits in the

conspiracy. An usher announced:

"General Bonaparte."

General Bonaparte entered the gallery with a lofty air; his aides

trailed in his wake. Through the doors of the gallery, which remained

open, were visible the guns and fur caps of a platoon of grenadiers.

"What! Soldiers here!" demanded several members of the minority, with

indignation. "What right has General Bonaparte to announce himself in

this guise? Would he play the role of a new Caesar?"

"I demand the floor!" cried Bonaparte imperiously.

"In what title, in what right do you thrust yourself into these

precincts?" demanded Savary.

"General Bonaparte has the floor," Lemercier declared from his chair.

"Representatives of the people, you are in no ordinary circumstances,"

began Bonaparte, when at last he could speak. "You are sitting upon a

volcano. Allow me to speak with the frankness of a soldier, the

frankness of a citizen zealous for the welfare of his country; and

suspend, I pray you, your judgment till you have heard me to the end. I

was at ease and quiet in Paris when I received the decree of the Council

of Ancients, which opened my eyes to the dangers that it and the

Republic ran. At once I called to my brothers-in-arms, and we came to

give you our support. We came to offer you the arm of the nation, for

you are its head. Our intentions were pure and disinterested; and as the

price of the devotion we yesterday and to-day displayed, lo, already we

reap calumnies! There is speech of 'a new Caesar,' 'a new Cromwell';

they pretend that I aim to establish a new military government."

The majority violently applauded these words. The minority held itself

impassible. General Bonaparte continued, increasingly threatening,

imperious, and haughty:

"If it was said, to put me outside the law, I would call upon you, brave

defenders of the Republic, with whom I have shared so many perils to

establish liberty and equality. I would throw myself and my braves upon

the courage of you all, and upon my fortune!" (Shudders of indignation

among the minority, shocked by this audacious appeal to force.) "I

invite you, Representatives of the people, to form into a general

committee, and to take those salutary measures which the present dangers

urgently demand. You will find my arm ever ready to execute your

commands."

Then Bonaparte and his suite retired.

While the majority of the Council of Ancients pledged their allegiance

to the military dictator, the republican majority in the Council of Five

Hundred, assembled in the Orangery of the palace, was a prey to the

most lively agitation. Lucien Bonaparte was in the chair.

"You have the floor, citizen," he said, indicating Emile Gaudin, who was

on his feet.

The latter mounted to the tribunal: "Citizen Representatives," he began,

"a decree of the Council of Ancients has transferred the seat of the

legislative body to this commune. So extraordinary a measure can only be

evoked by the fear of, or approach of, some extraordinary danger. In

fact, the Council of Ancients has declared to the French people that it

made use of the right conferred upon it by Article 102 of the

Constitution, in order _to disarm the factions which seek to subjugate

the national representation, and to restore internal peace_. I ask,

first, that a committee of seven members be elected to report on the

condition of the Republic and the means of saving it; second, that the

committee make its report to the present session; third, that until then

all deliberation be suspended; fourth, that all motions be submitted to

it. Let the Assembly decide."

Long applause followed this speech. Representative Delbrel rose next.

"Representatives of the people," said he, "grave dangers do, in fact,

threaten the Republic. But those who wish to destroy it are themselves

the very ones who, under the pretext of saving it, wish to change or

overturn the existing form of government. In vain these conspirators

have hoped to frighten us by deploying about us the trappings of armed

force. If, nevertheless, the conspirators succeed in deceiving or

misleading the courage of our troops, we shall know how to die at our

posts, in the defense of public liberty against the tyrants, against

the dictators who wish to crush it. _We want the Constitution!_"

Again prolonged applause burst out as Delbrel uttered these words. Many

of the members spontaneously rose and repeated, with enthusiasm:

"The Constitution or death!"

Lucien Bonaparte hammered his bell for silence, and Delbrel resumed,

energetically:

"Bayonets affright us not. Here we are free! I ask that all the members

of this Council, by roll-call, renew at once their oath to sustain the

Constitution of the year III."

The Assembly rose as one. "Down with the traitors!" "Long live the

Constitution!" "Death to the traitors and conspirators!" shouted several

members.

"I ask that we take the oath to oppose the re-establishment of all forms

of tyranny," cried Grandmaison.

Grandmaison left the tribunal amid thunderous applause and continued

cries of "Long live the Constitution!" The acclamations lasted several

minutes. Hardly able to dissimulate the inward irritation he felt, young

Bonaparte was finally forced to put the taking of the oath to a vote. It

was carried unanimously, the infamous minority of intriguers in league

with the president not daring to come out in the open by voting against.

When it came in regular course to his turn to take the oath, Lucien

Bonaparte left the chair, ostentatiously mounted the tribunal, and in

the midst of a profound silence, with the eyes of all fixed upon him,

uttered the words in a strangely unnatural voice:

"_I swear fidelity to the Republic and to the Constitution of the year

III._"

"Secretary of the _Monitor_ newspaper, insert in the report the solemn

oath of Citizen Lucien Bonaparte!" cried Briot quickly. The words were

followed by shouts of "Bravo!"

"If he plays false to his oath, the treachery will live in history!"

exclaimed Grandmaison.

Suddenly one of the doors of the Orangery flew open with a crash, and on

the threshold appeared General Bonaparte, encircled by his generals and

aides-de-camp, and followed by his company of grenadiers, with fixed

bayonets. At the sight of this irruption of armed force into their

sacred precincts, the Representatives of the people sprang from their

benches as if impelled by an electric shock. Their indignation swelled

to voice, and outcries rose in all quarters--"What! Bayonets here! Saber

draggers! Down with the dictator!"

All his assurance notwithstanding, General Bonaparte fell back before

the outburst produced by his and his soldiers' presence. He removed his

hat and signified that he wished to speak. He made to cross the sill of

the entrance, when Representative Bigonnet sprang before him, and,

barring his passage and that of his armed escort, cried:

"Back--back, rash man! Leave this place at once; you violate the

sanctuary of the law!"

The attitude of the Representative of the people, his forceful accents,

made their impression upon General Bonaparte. He paled, hesitated, and

stopped. A new outburst of indignation resounded in the hall:

"Down with the dictator!"

"Outlaw the audacious fellow!"

"Long live the Constitution!"

"Let us die at our post; long live the Republic!"

Controlling the passion which boiled within him, General Bonaparte shook

his head haughtily, and seemed again, by a commanding gesture, to ask

for the floor. Once more he essayed to cross the threshold of the hall,

followed by his staff, when again several Representatives threw

themselves in front of him, forcing him to retire; and Citizen Destrem

called in a voice choked with indignation:

"General, did you, then, only conquer in order to insult the national

representation?"

Anew, and with redoubled energy, the cries broke out of "Long live the

Constitution! Outlaw the dictator!"

White with fear and at a loss what to do, Bonaparte recoiled before the

universal reprobation displayed against him. His boldness no longer

swayed the situation; he made a sign to his officers, several of whom

had carried their clenched hands to their sabers, and he and they

withdrew.

Lucien Bonaparte, the secret accomplice of his brother's intrigue

against the liberties of the land, and who had followed with anguish the

diverse incidents of the preceding scene, seemed stricken with

consternation at the General's retreat. The great uproar which continued

after the departure of Bonaparte gradually calmed down, and little by

little peace was restored on the benches of the national

representatives.

No sooner had quiet come upon the assembly, however, than a grenadier

captain burst into the hall, leaving his platoon standing in the

hallway. He marched rapidly towards the group in the middle of which

stood Lucien Bonaparte, answering a vehement cross fire of questions

from his colleagues with a vehemence no less than theirs. The captain

approached Lucien, spoke a few words in his ear, and the young man

hastened from the hall, followed by the captain and his escort. This new

violation of the council-chamber of the Five Hundred was so sudden, the

departure of their president so unexpected, that the Representatives of

the people at first were dumb with astonishment. Then a full-throated

cry burst forth, "We are betrayed! Our president has gone over to

General Bonaparte!" The agitation of the assembly was tremendous.

Lucien Bonaparte, on the other hand, surrounded by his escort of

soldiers, marched rapidly from the hall of the Five Hundred towards a

large assemblage of troops drawn up in the middle of the park of St.

Cloud. A great drove of people, inhabitants of the commune or arrivals

from Paris, drawn thither by curiosity, crowded behind the ranks of

soldiers; among these spectators were John Lebrenn and Duresnel.

Bonaparte and his staff were in front of the troops. The General was

pale and seemed a prey to keen anxiety; for the rumor had spread among

the throng of onlookers and the soldiers that he had just been outlawed

by the Council of Five Hundred. When Lucien, feigning intense

indignation, ran up and spoke to his brother, his first words reassured

and put new heart into the would-be dictator. Assuredly, failing of

Lucien's presence of mind, the fortune of that day would have gone

against the house of Bonaparte, for the youngster at once faced the

troops and cried, in ringing tones:

"Citizens! Soldiers! I, president of the Council of Five Hundred,

declare to you that the majority of the Council is at this moment under

the terror of several Representatives armed with stilettos, who besiege

the tribunal, threatening their fellow-members with death, and carrying

on the most frightful deliberations.

"Soldiers," he continued, "I declare to you that these audacious

brigands, who are without doubt sold to England, have set themselves up

in rebellion against the Council of Ancients; they have dared to declare

a sentence of outlawry against the general charged to execute its

decree, just as if we were still living in the frightful times of the

Reign of Terror, when that one word--'outlaw'--sufficed to cause the

dearest heads of the fatherland to fall under the knife."

The aides and generals about Bonaparte began to utter threats against

the members of the Council of Five Hundred. Colonel Oliver, drawing his

sword and brandishing it aloft, cried:

"These bandits must be put an end to!"

"Aye! Aye!" replied several voices from the ranks of the soldiery. "Long

live General Bonaparte!"

"Soldiers, I declare to you," continued Lucien, "that this little

handful of rabid Representatives has read itself outside the law by its

assaults on the liberty of the Council. Well, in the name of that people

which is a by-word with this miserable spawn of the Terror, I confide to

you, brave soldiers, the necessity of delivering the majority of its

Representatives, so that, freed by the bayonet from the stiletto, they

may deliberate on the welfare of the Republic."

Prolonged acclamation on the part of the officers and soldiers greeted

these words of Lucien's. Exasperation ran high against the

'Representatives of the stiletto.' "The villains," exclaimed several

soldiers, "it is with poniard at throat that they have forced the

others to decree our general an outlaw. They should be shot on the spot!

Death to the assassins! To the firing squad with these aristocrats."

Noticing that his brother was more and more regaining his confidence, at

the success of this jugglery with facts, Lucien continued, addressing

him at first:

"General! And you, soldiers! You shall not recognize as legislators of

France any but those who follow me. As to those who remain in the

Orangery, let force be invoked to expel them. These folks are no longer

Representatives of the people, but Representatives of the poniard. Let

that title stick to them--let it follow them forever, and when they dare

to show themselves before the people, let all fingers point them out

under that well-deserved designation, 'Representatives of the poniard'!

Long live the Republic!"

While Lucien was thus haranguing his brother's troops, the

Representatives of the people, no longer doubting the complicity of

their president in the schemes of the aspiring dictator, and beset by

inexpressible anxiety, set about averting the evils which they felt

impending. Motion after motion followed hard upon one another, and

passed unnoticed amid the tumult.

"Let us die for liberty!" "Outlawry for the dictator!" "Long live the

Constitution!" "Long live the Republic!" Such were the cries that rang

within the Orangery.

All at once the roll of drums was heard approaching, then the heavy and

regular tread of a marching army. The Orangery door was battered down

with the butts of muskets. General Leclerc, his sword drawn, entered,

followed by grenadiers. At this apparition, a death-like stillness fell

as if by enchantment upon the assembly. The Representatives, calm and

grave, regained their benches, where they sat immovable as the Senators

of ancient Rome. Right, succumbing to the blows of brutal force,

protested as it fell, and denounced Iniquity triumphant, a denunciation

which will ring through the ages.

From the tribunal General Leclerc gave the word of command:

"In the name of General Bonaparte, the Council of Five Hundred is

dissolved. Let all good citizens retire. Forward, grenadiers! Strike for

the breast!"

The grenadiers swarmed down the length of the hall, presenting the

points of their bayonets to the breasts of the elected legislators of

the nation. Most of the Representatives of the people fell back slowly,

step by step, still facing the soldiers and crying "Long live the

Republic!" Others threw themselves upon the bayonet-blades; but the

grenadiers raised their guns and dragged the Representatives out of the

hall.

Caesar triumphed; but the day of Brutus will come! Execration on

Bonaparte!

Such were the days of Brumaire.

CHAPTER VII.

GLORY; AND ELBA.

The war, immediately after the Brumaire coup d'etat, was pushed with

vigor. Moreau received the commandership-in-chief of the Army of the

Rhine, and Bonaparte, on the 16th Floreal of the same year (May 6,

1800), left Paris to put himself at the head of the Army of Italy. On

the 25th Prairial (June 14), he achieved the brilliant victory of

Marengo, which, completing the work begun under the Directorate,

expelled the Austrians from Italy.

Between January 8, 1801, and the 25th of March, 1802, the various powers

at war with France were one by one forced to sue for peace. The first

treaty was signed by England at Amiens. The peace was to be short-lived,

but Bonaparte improved his days of calm to restore a great part of the

abuses overthrown by the Revolution, and to lay the foundations for his

future hereditary power. Himself a sceptic, but considering religion in

the light of an instrument of domination, he treated with the Pope of

Rome toward the end of re-establishing Catholicism in all its splendor.

He founded the order of the Legion of Honor, a ridiculous and

anti-democratic body, and in so much a restoration of social inequality.

Shortly thereafter the Revolutionary calendar was replaced by the

Gregorian; in short, the First Consul set himself against the current

of public opinion, by returning, more and more, to the traditions of the

Old Regime.

On May 6, 1802, the Tribunate promulgated the suggestion that the powers

of the First Consul be extended for ten years; and two months later upon

motion of the Senate, the docile tool of Bonaparte, he was voted the

Consulate for life. Pope Pius VII came to Paris to anoint and crown the

brow of Napoleon, Emperor of the French by the grace of God.

The consequences of the restoration of hereditary monarchy in France

were not long to await. One by one Napoleon forcibly seized all the

budding republics of Europe which the breath of the Revolution had

fanned into being, and bestowed them as benefices upon his family. Part

of Italy, incorporated into France, was given into the vice-regency of

Prince Eugene Beauharnais, the Emperor's brother-in-law; and one of the

Emperor's sisters received the Duchy of Modena.

The 11th of April, 1803, was marked by a new coalition between England,

Austria and Russia. For a moment bent on a descent upon England,

Napoleon abandoned the adventurous project. Recalled from Boulogne to

face a war on the continent, Bonaparte, whose military genius still

attended him, gained on the 2nd of December, 1805, the wonderful victory

of Austerlitz. Peace was again imposed upon Austria; on the 26th of the

same month she signed the treaty of Presburg by which she surrendered

enormous slices of territory.

In 1806 the King of Naples broke his treaties with France. He was

summarily dispossessed of his throne to the profit of Joseph Bonaparte,

brother to Napoleon. A short time thereafter, the republic of Batavia

was presented to Louis Bonaparte, another brother.

Now dreaming of universal empire, and retrograding toward the era of

feudal barbarism, Napoleon attached foreign duchy after foreign duchy as

fiefs to his throne. His continual inroads into the neighboring

territories rekindled the war. A fourth coalition was formed against the

Empire. Prussia, neutral in the previous war, this time took an active

part; but October 14, 1806, saw her crushing defeat at Jena; on the 26th

the French army entered Berlin in triumph.

Russia, defeated at Friedland and at Eylau, begged for peace; it was

concluded at Tilsitt, June 21, 1807.

At each of these new and crowning victories Napoleon's vertigo grew.

Drunk with constant success, a universal monarchy now became his fixed

idea, and still another of his brothers, Jerome Bonaparte, was invested

with a kingdom formed out of several states of the Germanic

Confederation. The single member of the Bonaparte family who took no

part in the rich quarry of thrones distributed by the conqueror was

Lucien. Did he seek thus voluntarily to expiate his complicity in the

events of Brumaire, or was he victim to the Emperor's ingratitude?

Lucien received not a single crown out of the booty.

Napoleon's return to the traditions of the Old Regime, even to those

most execrated by the nation, became more and more extravagant. For

instance, the right of primogeniture, abolished by the Revolution, was

re-established. This iniquity, from the point of view of society and of

the family, was forced upon the Emperor by the logic of his mistakes:

if he reconstituted the nobility, he could not but ensure its existence

by restricting the partition of property.

On March 1st, 1813, the Prussian government, yielding to the public

voice of Germany, which was ever more and more hostile to Napoleon, gave

the signal for treachery by breaking its alliance with the French Empire

and again joining hands with England and Russia. The new coalition was

reinforced by Sweden, where Bernadotte, the old general of the Republic,

had become King. The victories of Lutzen and Bautzen at first seemed to

assure Napoleon's success. Austria proffered its mediation to the

belligerent parties, and they concluded, on June 4, 1813, the armistice

of Plessewitz. A congress, in session at Prague, offered Napoleon as

national limits those won by the armies of the Republic--the Rhine, the

Meuse, and the Alps. But Napoleon rejected the proposal with disdain; he

feared to lose by it his prestige in the eyes of the world and of

France, which he believed he could hold in subjection only by the glamor

of his victories.

The war recommenced, but soon, blow upon blow, began the reverses.

Macdonald was defeated in Silesia, Ney in Prussia, Vandamme at Culm. The

princes of the Germanic Confederation, encouraged by these checks, and

yielding to the pressure of their people, abandoned Napoleon on the

battle-field of Leipzig. They turned their troops against him. The

French army, in full rout, retreated within its frontiers, October 31,

1813; soon the allies threatened them even there. Napoleon rushed to

Paris on November 9th, and ordered new levies of troops. Thousands of

families, at extortionate prices, had previously bought off their sons

from conscription. This last draft took them all. The Corsican ogre

devoured the whole generation.

The situation was desperate. The Austrians advanced by way of Italy and

through Switzerland; the English, masters of Spain and Portugal, poured

over the Pyrenees, under the command of Wellington; the Prussians, led

by Bluecher, invaded Frankfort; and the army of the North, with

Bernadotte at its head, penetrated France by way of Belgium. In vain the

French soldiers performed miracles of valor; in vain were the Prussians

annihilated at Montmirail, at Champaubert, and at Chateau-Thierry, and

the Austrians overthrown at Montereau. These sterile victories were the

final effort of Napoleon's warrior genius.

On the 30th of March, 1814, the foreign armies entered the capital, a

shame which France had undergone but once before across the ages, under

the monarchy, in the reign of King John. Talleyrand and Fouche, so long

the servile tools of their master, were the first to betray him. On

April 11, 1814, Napoleon abdicated the Empire after a reign of ten

years.

The Senate, whose conduct during the Empire had been marked with abject

servility, put the final touches to its ignominy by decreeing with the

following justifications the deposition of the man of whom its own

members had been the accomplices:

The Senate Conservator,

Considering, That under a constitutional monarchy the monarch

exists only in virtue of the Constitution, or the social contract;