On entering the Rue de la Victoire, Bonaparte found Sebastiani’s
dragoons drawn up in line of battle. He wished to address them, but they
interrupted him at the first words, shouting: “We want no explanations.
We know that you seek only the good of the Republic. Vive Bonaparte!”
The cortège followed the streets which led from the Rue de la Victoire
to the Tuileries, amid the cries of “Vive Bonaparte!”
General Lefebvre, according to promise, was waiting at the palace gates.
Bonaparte, on his arrival at the Tuileries, was hailed with the same
cheers that had accompanied him. Once there, he raised his head and
shook it. Perhaps this cry of “Vive Bonaparte!” did not satisfy him. Was
he already dreaming of “Vive Napoleon?”
He advanced in front of the troop, surrounded by his staff, and read
the decree of the Five Hundred, which transferred the sessions of the
Legislature to Saint-Cloud and gave him the command of the armed forces.
Then, either from memory, or offhand--Bonaparte never admitted any
one to such secrets--instead of the proclamation he had dictated to
Bourrienne two days earlier, he pronounced these words:
“Soldiers--The Council of Ancients has given me the command of the city
and the army.
“I have accepted it, to second the measures to be adopted for the good
of the people.
“The Republic has been ill governed for two years. You have hoped for my
return to put an end to many evils. You celebrated it with a unanimity
which imposes obligations that I now fulfil. Fulfil yours, and second
your general with the vigor, firmness and strength I have always found
in you.
“Liberty, victory, and peace will restore the French Republic to the
rank it occupied in Europe, which ineptitude and treason alone caused
her to lose!”
The soldiers applauded frantically. It was a declaration of war against
the Directory, and soldiers will always applaud a declaration of war.
The general dismounted, amid shouts and bravos, and entered the
Tuileries. It was the second time he had crossed the threshold of this
palace of the Valois, whose arches had so ill-sheltered the crown
and head of the last Bourbon who had reigned there. Beside him walked
citizen Roederer. Bonaparte started as he recognized him, and said:
“Ah! citizen Roederer, you were here on the morning of August 10.”
“Yes, general,” replied the future Count of the Empire.
“It was you who advised Louis XVI. to go before the National Assembly.”
“Yes.”
“Bad advice, citizen Roederer! I should not have followed it.”
“We advise men according to what we know of them. I would not give
General Bonaparte the same advice I gave King Louis XVI. When a king has
the fact of his flight to Varennes and the 20th of June behind him, it
is difficult to save him.”
As Roederer said these words, they reached a window opening on the
garden of the Tuileries. Bonaparte stopped, and, seizing Roederer by
the arm, he said: “On the 20th of June I was there,” pointing with his
finger to the terrace by the water, “behind the third linden. Through
the open window I could see the poor king, with the red cap on his head.
It was a piteous sight; I pitied him.”
“What did you do?”
“Nothing, I could do nothing; I was only a lieutenant of artillery.
But I longed to go in like the others, and whisper: ‘Sire, give me four
cannon, and I’ll sweep the whole rabble out.’”
What would have happened if Lieutenant Bonaparte had followed his
impulse, obtained what he wanted from Louis XVI., and _swept the rabble
out_, that is to say the people of Paris? Had his cannon made a
clean sweep on June 20th, would he have had to make another the 13th
Vendemiaire for the benefit of the Convention?
While the ex-Syndic; who had grown grave, was outlining in his mind
the opening pages of his future “History of the Consulate,” Bonaparte
presented himself at the bar of the Council of the Ancients, followed
by his staff, and by all those who chose to do likewise. When the tumult
caused by this influx of people had subsided, the president read over
the decree which invested Bonaparte with the military power. Then, after
requesting him to take the oath, the president added:
“He who has never promised his country a victory which he did not
win, cannot fail to keep religiously his new promise to serve her
faithfully.”
Bonaparte stretched forth his hand and said solemnly:
“I swear it!”
All the generals repeated after him, each for himself:
“I swear it!”
The last one had scarcely finished, when Bonaparte recognized Barras’
secretary, that same Bollot of whom Barras had spoken that morning
to his two colleagues. He had come there solely to give his patron an
account of all that was happening there, but Bonaparte fancied he was
sent on some secret mission by Barras. He resolved to spare him the
first advance, and went straight to him, saying:
“Have you come on behalf of the Directors?” Then, without giving him
time to answer, he continued: “What have they done with that France I
left so brilliant? I left peace; I find war. I left victories; I find
reverses. I left the millions of Italy, and I find spoliation and
penury. What have become of the hundred thousand Frenchmen whom I knew
by name? They are dead!”
It was not precisely to Barras’ secretary that these words should have
been said; but Bonaparte wished to say them, needed to say them, and
little he cared to whom he said them. Perhaps even, from his point of
view, it was better to say them to some one who could not answer him. At
that moment Sièyes rose.
“Citizens,” said he, “the Directors Moulins and Gohier ask to be
admitted.”
“They are no longer Directors,” said Bonaparte, “for there is no longer
a Directory.”
“But,” objected Sièyes, “they have not yet sent in their resignation.”
“Then admit them and let them give it,” retorted Bonaparte.
Moulins and Gohier entered. They were pale but calm. They knew they came
to force a struggle, but behind their resistance may have loomed the
Sinnamary. The exiles they sent there the 18th of Fructidor pointed the
way.
“I see with satisfaction,” Bonaparte hastened to say, “that you have
yielded to our wishes and those of your two colleagues.”
Gohier made a step forward and said firmly: “We yield neither to your
wishes, nor to those of our two colleagues, who are no longer our
colleagues, since they have resigned, but to the Law. It requires that
the decree transferring the legislative body to Saint-Cloud shall be
proclaimed without delay. We have come here to fulfil the duty which the
law imposes on us, fully determined to defend it against all factious
persons, whoever they may be, who attempt to attack it.”
“Your zeal does not astonish us,” replied Bonaparte; “and because you
are a man who loves his country you will unite with us.”
“Unite with you! And why?”
“To save the Republic.”
“To save the Republic! There was a time, general, when you had the honor
to be its prop. But to-day the glory of saving it is reserved for us.”
“You save it!” retorted Bonaparte. “How will you do that? With the means
your Constitution gives you? Why, that Constitution is crumbling on all
sides, and even if I did not topple it over, it could not last eight
days.”
“Ah!” cried Moulins, “at last you avow your hostile intentions.”
“My intentions are not hostile!” shouted Bonaparte, striking the floor
with the heel of his boot. “The Republic is in peril; it must be saved,
and I shall do it.”
“You do it?” cried Gohier. “It seems to me it is for the Directory, not
you, to say, ‘I shall do it!’”
“There is no longer a Directory.”
“I did indeed hear that you said so just a moment before we came in.”
“There is no longer a Directory, now that Sièyes and Ducos have
resigned.”
“You are mistaken. So long as there are three Directors, the Directory
still exists. Neither Moulins, Barras nor myself, have handed in our
resignations.”
At that moment a paper was slipped in Bonaparte’s hand, and a voice said
in his ear: “Read it.” He did so; then said aloud: “You, yourself, are
mistaken. Barras has resigned, for here is his resignation. The law
requires three Directors to make a Directory. You are but two, and, as
you said just now, whoever resists the law is a rebel.” Then handing
the paper to the president, he continued: “Add the citizen Barras’
resignation to that of citizens Sièyes and Ducos, and proclaim the fall
of the Directory. I will announce it to my soldiers.”
Moulins and Gohier were confounded. Barras’ resignation sapped the
foundations of all their plans. Bonaparte had nothing further to do at
the Council of Ancients, but there still remained much to be done in
the court of the Tuileries. He went down, followed by those who had
accompanied him up. His soldiers no sooner caught sight, of him than
they burst into shouts of “Vive Bonaparte!” more noisily and more
eagerly than ever. He sprang into his saddle and made them a sign that
he wished to speak to them. Ten thousand voices that had burst into
cries were hushed in a moment. Silence fell as if by enchantment.
“Soldiers,” said Bonaparte, in a voice so loud that all could hear it,
“your comrades in arms on the frontiers are denuded of the necessaries
of life. The people are miserable. The authors of these evils are the
factious men against whom I have assembled you to-day. I hope before
long to lead you to victory; but first we must deprive those who would
stand in the way of public order and general prosperity of their power
to do harm.”
Whether it was weariness of the government of the Directory, or the
fascination exercised by the magic being who called them to victory--so
long forgotten in his absence--shouts of enthusiasm arose, and like a
train of burning powder spread from the Tuileries to the Carrousel,
from the Carrousel to the adjacent streets. Bonaparte profited by this
movement. Turning to Moreau, he said:
“General, I will give you proof of the immense confidence I have in you.
Bernadotte, whom I left at my house, and who refused to follow us, had
the audacity to tell me that if he received orders from the Directory he
should execute them against whosoever the agitators might be. General,
I confide to you the guardianship of the Luxembourg. The tranquillity of
Paris and the welfare of the Republic are in your hands.”
And without waiting for a reply he put his horse to a gallop, and rode
off to the opposite end of the line.
Moreau, led by military ambition, had consented to play a part in this
great drama; he was now forced to accept that which the author assigned
him. On returning to the Louvre, Gohier and Moulins found nothing
changed apparently. All the sentries were at their posts. They retired
to one of the salons of the presidency to consult together. But they had
scarcely begun their conference, when General Jubé, the commandant of
the Luxembourg, received orders to join Bonaparte at the Tuileries with
the guard of the Directory. Their places were filled by Moreau and
a portion of the soldiers who had been electrified by Bonaparte.
Nevertheless the two Directors drew up a message for the Council of the
Five Hundred, in which they protested energetically against what had
been done. When this was finished Gohier handed it to his secretary, and
Moulins, half dead with exhaustion, returned to his apartments to take
some food.
It was then about four o’clock in the afternoon. An instant later
Gohier’s secretary returned in great perturbation.
“Well,” said Gohier, “why have you not gone?”
“Citizen president,” replied the young man, “we are prisoners in the
palace.”
“Prisoners? What do you mean?”
“The guard has been changed, and General Jubé is no longer in command.”
“Who has replaced him?”
“I think some one said General Moreau.”
“Moreau? Impossible! And that coward, Barras, where is he?”
“He has started for his country-place at Grosbois.”
“Ah! I must see Moulins!” cried Gohier, rushing to the door. But at the
entrance he found a sentry who barred the door. Gohier insisted.
“No one can pass,” said the sentry.
“What! not pass?”
“No.”
“But I am President Gohier!”
“No one can pass,” said the sentry; “that is the order.”
Gohier saw it would be useless to say more; force would be impossible.
He returned to his own rooms.
In the meantime, General Moreau had gone to see Moulins; he wished to
justify himself. Without listening to a word the ex-Director turned his
back on him, and, as Moreau insisted, he said: “General, go into the
ante-chamber. That is the place for jailers.”
Moreau bowed his head, and understood for the first time into what a
fatal trap his honor had fallen.
At five o’clock, Bonaparte started to return to the Rue de la Victoire;
all the generals and superior officers in Paris accompanied him. The
blindest, those who had not understood the 13th Vendemiaire, those who
had not yet understood the return from Egypt, now saw, blazing over
the Tuileries, the star of his future, and as everybody could not be a
planet, each sought to become a satellite.
The shouts of “Vive Bonaparte!” which came from the lower part of the
Rue du Mont Blanc, and swept like a sonorous wave toward the Rue de la
Victoire, told Josephine of her husband’s return. The impressionable
Creole had awaited him anxiously. She sprang to meet him in such
agitation that she was unable to utter a single word.
“Come, come!” said Bonaparte, becoming the kindly man he was in his own
home, “calm yourself. We have done to-day all that could be done.”
“Is it all over?”
“Oh, no!” replied Bonaparte.
“Must it be done all over again to-morrow?”
“Yes, but to-morrow it will be merely a formality.”
That formality was rather rough; but every one knows of the events at
Saint-Cloud. We will, therefore, dispense with relating them, and turn
at once to the result, impatient as we are to get back to the real
subject of our drama, from which the grand historical figure we have
introduced diverted us for an instant.
One word more. The 20th Brumaire, at one o’clock in the morning,
Bonaparte was appointed First Consul for ten years. He himself selected
Cambacérès and Lebrun as his associates under the title of Second
Consuls, being firmly resolved this time to concentrate in his own
person, not only all the functions of the two consuls, but those of the
ministers.
The 20th Brumaire he slept at the Luxembourg in president Gohier’s bed,
the latter having been liberated with his colleague Moulins.
Roland was made governor of the Luxembourg.