[Footnote 12: The references for Chapters X and XI are as
before, with these additions: the memoirs of Hyde de
Neuville, Duport de Cheverny, Thiebault, Marmont (duc de
Raguse), Sarrazin, Mathieu Dumas, Barras, Allonville, Gaudin
(duc de Gaete), and Pasquier; the Memorial de Norvins,
Cahiers du Capitaine Coignet, the Souvenirs of Macdonald, the
Commentaries of Napoleon, the letters of Mme. de Reinhard,
and the correspondence of Fievee. Likewise, Lescure: Memoires
sur les journees revolutionnaires et les coups d'etat de
1789-1799. Lucien Bonaparte: Revolution de Brumaire. Madelin:
Fouche. Aulard: Le lendemain du 18 Brumaire and Deliberations
du Consulat provisoire. Beranger: Ma Biographie. Guillois: Le
Salon de Mme. Helvetius. Montier: Robert Lindet. Vatout: Le
Palais de Saint Cloud. Stourm: Les finances du Consulat.]
BONAPARTE SEIZES HIS OPPORTUNITY
The Banquet to Bonaparte and Moreau -- Plans of the Bonapartists
-- Terrors of Bonaparte and Talleyrand -- The Role of the
Ancients -- The Generals at Bonaparte's House -- His Address to
the Ancients -- The Five Hundred -- Sieyes and Roger-Ducos Resign
from the Directory -- Barras Intimidated -- Gohier and Moulins
Imprisoned -- Bernadotte's Counterplot.
On November first, 1799, Sieyes formally surrendered all control. By
agreeing, as he did in a conference with Bonaparte, that the outline
of the "perfect" constitution which he had written--it was his own
epithet--should not be laid directly before the councils, but should
be submitted to a committee, he abdicated the public leadership, and
became the dupe of his colleagues. On the sixth a banquet was given to
Bonaparte in the church of St. Sulpice. It had originally been
intended that the tribute should come from both chambers; in reality
the affair was arranged entirely by a few of the Ancients, who were
now almost to a man Bonapartists. Moreau was present as a guest.
Embittered against the Directory by the impossible labors they had
assigned to him, he had entered Paris cautiously and quietly;
Bonaparte, equally embittered, but by his own failures, had come amid
the plaudits of a nation; but the two were for all that justly ranked
together as the great captains of the hour. The occasion, however,
fell flat; for both Jourdan and Augereau, the Jacobin generals,
remained away, and they were the intimates of Bernadotte. Moreau
himself was sullen, and the only incident of importance was
Bonaparte's toast to the "harmony of all the French." He drank it in
wine that was brought in a bottle by Duroc, his aide-de-camp; for his
guilty conscience made him suspicious that the meat and drink provided
in his honor were poisoned.
Immediately after the close of the gloomy ovation he had a meeting
with Sieyes, who produced his draft for three measures, the general
tenor of which had been previously agreed upon. In the revolutionary
movement now arranged, the Council of the Ancients, in which a
majority was certain, were, at the proper time, to take the initiative
according to constitutional provision, and pass all three as
preliminary to the overthrow of the constitution. They were first to
declare the existence of a plot, the nature and size of which were not
to be mentioned; then to ordain the session of both councils at St.
Cloud; and lastly to appoint Bonaparte commander of the troops in
Paris. When assembled next day at St. Cloud, they were to accept the
resignations from the Directory of Sieyes and Roger-Ducos, the latter
having been persuaded to join the new movement. Finally Gohier,
Barras, and Moulins were to be cowed into resigning, and thereupon a
provisional consulate, consisting of Bonaparte, Sieyes, and
Roger-Ducos, was to be intrusted with the work of reconstruction.
A sufficient military force having been made ready, it was determined
at a secret meeting of the Bonapartists, held on the fifteenth of
Brumaire (November seventh), that the blow should be struck three days
later. To that end the Ancients were to meet, according to the
program, on the seventeenth of Brumaire in the morning, and summon
both assemblies to hold a session on the eighteenth at St. Cloud.
Under a provision of the constitution, whenever an amendment to that
document was to be considered, the bodies were to sit outside the
walls of Paris. This move would naturally excite considerable
suspicion among the uninitiated; and although there might be no
disorder, there would certainly be much heated discussion in the
streets. Still greater was the danger which lay in the temper of the
troops. Enthusiastic for what they felt to be still the republic,
every appearance of offering violence to any and all avowed
republicans like those who sat among the Five Hundred must be avoided.
The solution of this latter problem was really the key to the whole
combination. Success would depend entirely on the momentary instinct
of plain, honest republican soldiers taken unawares. Minor troubles
there were also. Sieyes, sensitive under the evident determination of
Bonaparte to use him only so long as he was necessary, became restive,
and it required the nicest balancing of interests to keep him
temporarily in the traces. It was a time of terrible anxiety to the
conspirators. Talleyrand never forgot a scene which took place at his
house in the Rue Taitbout a few nights before the crisis. He and
Bonaparte were still deep in conversation at about one in the morning,
when they heard the rumbling of carriage-wheels and the ring of
cavalry hoofs in the street. Suddenly both ceased; the cavalcade had
stopped at the door. Bonaparte turned pale, and Talleyrand also, as
they paused and listened, fully convinced that both were to be
arrested. The latter blew out the candles, and hurried through a
passageway to gain a view of the street. After some delay he
discovered that the carriage of a gambling-house keeper, returning
under police escort from the Palais Royal with his spoils, had broken
down. His fears relieved, he returned to joke with Bonaparte about the
scare. Before the appointed day, however, everything which
master-schemers could foresee was carefully adjusted. The apparent
resurrection of Jacobinism was actually the last appearance of its
ghost; for the Directory, shorn of all prestige, was divided and
shaky; the army, republican to the core, was weary with its
inefficiency and furious with its bankruptcy; the mass of the nation,
conservative and royalist, despaired of a restoration, and, sick of
war, were for the moment in a humor to accept any strong government.
The majority of the administration, the nation, and the army were,
therefore, in readiness, while the numerous malcontents in each were
at least temporarily silenced. Every little hidden wire of private
interest was in hand, and plans were ripe to coerce those who could
not be cajoled.
All night long, from the sixteenth to the seventeenth of Brumaire, a
committee of the Ancients was in session, minutely perfecting its
plans. Next morning at seven the faithful majority, having been
summoned according to form, convened as the council; the doubtful
members had either not been summoned at all, or had received notice of
a later hour. As soon as a quorum was present, Cornet, a well-known
butt for the wits, rose and denounced the terrible conspiracy which
was menacing them. Regnier then moved that according to articles one
hundred and two, three and four of the constitution both branches of
the legislature should meet next day at noon, and not before, in the
palace of St. Cloud; that General Bonaparte should be intrusted with
the execution of their decree, and that to that end he be appointed
commander of the Paris garrison, of their own special guard, and of
the National Guard; that he therefore appear and take the oath; and
that these resolutions be duly communicated to the Directory, to the
Five Hundred, and also to the public by printed proclamation. The
motion was carried unanimously.
During these proceedings, all the generals present in Paris except
Jourdan and Augereau, who had not been invited, but including the
stanch republican Lefebvre, commander of the garrison, had gathered in
and before Bonaparte's house. They had been requested to come in
uniform in order to arrange for a review. It was noticed that
Bernadotte, though present, was not in uniform. He had so far yielded
to the blandishments of his brother-in-law as to come, but declared
that he would obey only what was at that moment the chief authority in
the state. Lefebvre was in uniform, but having met on the way bodies
of troops moving without his orders, and not being initiated, he was
naturally startled. But Bonaparte knew his man. "Would you, a
supporter of the republic, leave it to perish in the hands of these
lawyers?" was his greeting. "See, here is the sword I carried at the
Pyramids. I give it to you as a mark of my esteem and confidence."
"Let us throw the lawyers into the river," came the expected answer.
A few moments later arrived the authoritative summons from the
Ancients. Bonaparte stepped out on the porch, and read their
proceedings aloud. By a united impulse the officers flourished their
swords in response. It was but an instant before they were mounted,
and with Bonaparte in front, the cavalcade, headed by men either
already famous or destined to become so,--Macdonald, Serurier, Murat,
Lannes, Andreossy, Berthier, and Lefebvre,--proceeded to the
council-chamber. It needed but a hasty glance, as they passed through
the city, to see that preconcerted orders had already been carefully
executed. The troops were all under arms and at their stations in
commanding places throughout the town. Arrived at the Tuileries, the
general and his glittering escort entered the chamber. "Citizen
delegates," he said, "the republic was falling. You understood the
situation; your course has saved it. Woe to them who cause disorder or
disturbance! With the help of General Lefebvre, of General Berthier,
and my other brethren in arms, I will arrest them. Let no man look for
precedents in the past. Nothing in history is comparable to the end of
the eighteenth century, nothing to the present moment. Your wisdom
passed this motion, our arms will execute it. We desire a republic
founded in true liberty, in civil liberty, in popular representation.
We are going to have it. I swear it in my own name and in that of my
brethren in arms!" "We swear it!" was the antiphonal response of the
assembled generals. Some one indiscreetly suggested that Bonaparte had
sworn, but not the oath of allegiance to the constitution required by
their previous action. At once the president hurriedly declared all
further proceedings out of order, the assembly having adjourned by its
own act.
By this time it was eleven o'clock, and the members of the Five
Hundred were gathering. Their meeting was soon called to order, with
Lucien in the chair. The recent action of the Ancients was announced
amid a deep silence, broken only at the conclusion by numerous calls
for an explanation. In strict legality, and according to the letter of
the constitution, the lower house had on such an occasion no function
but to listen, and the president pronounced the session ended. Amid
cheers for the constitution of the year III the representatives then
dispersed. A more impressive and dramatic scene was the reception of
Bonaparte a few seconds later by the soldiers who had been assembled
in the courtyard below for the purpose. Their cheers rang out in
volleys as he mounted and rode away, the hero of the hour. A few
moments later he reached his headquarters to find all his chosen
subordinates assembled. Fouche, the Jacobin minister of police, having
seen how the weathercock was veering, was there likewise,
conciliatory, obsequious, and superserviceable.
In fact, the incidents of that day were all uncommon. The "Moniteur"
published an article hinting that the Jacobins contemplated merging
the two councils into a convention. The populace, far from being
uneasy and riotous, seemed dazzled by the military display, and were
not alarmed by the movements of the soldiery. It was only with languid
interest that they read a pamphlet scattered everywhere, which had
been written by Roederer to prove the need for renewing the
constitution. Bonaparte as commandant, and therefore temporary
dictator, received according to prearrangement the resignations of
Sieyes and Roger-Ducos, to be presented on the morrow at St. Cloud.
The Gohiers had been invited to breakfast with Mme. Bonaparte that
morning at the unusual hour of eight o'clock. Pleading official
duties, the director himself did not go; his wife, amazed by the
dazzling assemblage of generals which she found before the Bonapartes'
door, hurried back to announce what she had seen. We may surmise that
had Gohier accompanied his wife, both might have been won to the
support of the movement in hand; in the other event, perhaps, both
might have been forcibly detained.
As it was, Gohier's first instinct was to consult Barras, and he
hurried in search of his colleague; but the fallen statesman was in
his bath, and could see nobody. He sent word to Gohier to count on
him; but before his toilet was complete he was forced to receive Bruix
and Talleyrand, who had come as emissaries from Bonaparte. A guilty
conscience made him like wax in the hands of Talleyrand, who
successfully pleaded with him to resign, and secured his signature to
a form, prepared in advance by Roederer under Bonaparte's supervision,
which declared that all danger to freedom was past, thanks to the
illustrious warrior for whom he had had the honor to open the way to
glory. Such was the haste that even before Moulins, the remaining
director, could reach the Tuileries, where Bonaparte had established
an office, this paper of Barras had been delivered, and the Directory
had ceased to exist. "What have you done," said the dictator to
Barras's messenger--"what have you done with the France I made so
brilliant? I left you victory: I find nothing but defeat. I left you
the millions from Italy: I find plundering laws and misery. Where are
the hundred thousand warriors who have disappeared from the soil of
France? They are dead, and they were my comrades! Such conditions
cannot last; in three years anarchy will land us in despotism. We want
a republic founded on the basis of equality, of morality, of civil
liberty, of political long-suffering." It is needless to say that a
reporter was present, the poet Arnault, who printed this fine language
next day in the newspapers.
Finally Moulins and Gohier were admitted. Welcomed as if they, too,
were about to join in the movement "to save the commonwealth," it was
with feigned astonishment that Bonaparte heard them plead for the
laws, for the constitution, for the sanctity of oaths, and for good
faith to the republican armies, once again victorious. Their adversary
was of course immovable. With Gohier he tried argument; to Moulins he
menacingly remarked that if Santerre, the notorious demagogue and his
relative, should this time make a move to raise the populace, his fate
would be death. To a point-blank demand for their resignation both
firmly answered, "No," and withdrew to the Luxembourg, where the now
defunct Directory had had its seat. With no knowledge or intention on
their part, they were to serve as a means for the immolation of
Bonaparte's last victim and most dangerous rival. In the military
dispositions of that day, Lannes had been put in command at the
Tuileries, Serurier at the Point-du-Jour, Marmont at the military
school, Macdonald at Versailles, and Murat at St. Cloud. To the
central point, the seat of government, the home of the Directory,
Moreau had been assigned. If Bonaparte became the statesman of the
impending revolution, Moreau reasoned that he himself would of
necessity become the general of the new government, and, regarding his
selection for this post as a distinction, he accepted. By the order of
his temporary superior, Gohier and Moulins, the two unyielding and
incorruptible members of the executive, though not shamefully treated,
were yet deprived of their liberty. With the proverbial fickleness of
humanity, the agent was held by the public solely responsible for this
conduct, and was harshly judged. To him was imputed the stain of
arbitrarily applying force at the critical moment, and his influence
disappeared like a mirage. During these closing hours of the day,
Augereau, too, appeared to make his peace, asking with perplexed
jocularity, and with the use of the familiar "thou," if Bonaparte
could count no more on his "little Augereau." His fears were scarcely
allayed by the brusque advice that both he and Jourdan should keep the
peace.
All afternoon the bill-posters were busy, according to the
time-honored French custom, covering the blank walls with a carefully
worded announcement that the Revolution, having gone astray through
incompetence, was to be concluded by its friends. There was a
conspiracy: it must be met by united action to secure civil liberty,
equality, victory, peace; by a last supreme effort the people must
come to its own. The counter-revolution would be the real one.
Meantime the papers were printing for their morning issue of the
nineteenth the program of the new government. Away with the hostage
law, forced loans, the proscription of emigrants: enter peace, an
enduring peace, secured if needs be by a new series of victories over
the enemies of France, but a peace, solid and permanent. Did ever the
wheels of conspiracy run so smoothly? The officious Fouche had closed
the city barriers. Bonaparte was so secure that he ordered them thrown
wide open. The night was apparently as serene as his spirit. In
reality there was a counterplot, and that in a dangerous quarter.
Bernadotte met with a little junta, comprising a few members of the
Five Hundred, at Salicetti's house, and planned, with himself in
uniform as commander, to reach St. Cloud next day in advance of all
others, and to install himself, with his supporters, in charge of the
palace, so as to control events in his favor. But Salicetti was a
traitor in the camp. He had long been double-faced with Bonaparte;
but, having at last recognized where lay the mastery, had made his
peace, and had been pardoned for the unforgotten imprisonment. Fouche
was duly informed by him of the counterplot, and without exciting
suspicion, every member of the Bernadotte junta was delayed in the
morning far beyond the time appointed, and their scheme failed.
Besides the slight danger in this fiasco there appeared a division of
opinion among Bonaparte's own friends, some of the more timid
recommending in the early morning hours that Bonaparte should accept a
seat in the Directory. "There is no Directory," was his reply; and it
was determined, after a number had withdrawn, that they should adhere
to the original plan, which was to demand an adjournment of the
councils until the first of Ventose (February nineteenth, 1800), and
that in the long interval Bonaparte should be intrusted with the
administration. Unfortunately, the conspirators overlooked two
important points. Nothing was prearranged as to who should act in case
the Five Hundred proved refractory, and no preparations were made in
the palace of St. Cloud for the reception of the deputies. It was a
strange fatality that Bonaparte, who elsewhere and at other times had
always two strings to his bow, should, in the heart of France and at
the very nick of his fortunes, have provided only one. It was a rash
satisfaction with the day's events which he expressed to Bourrienne on
retiring for a few hours' rest.