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 dictated3 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 celebrated4 it with a unanimity5 which imposes obligations that I now fulfil. Fulfil yours, and second your general with the vigor6, 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 ineptitude7 and treason alone caused her to lose!”
The soldiers applauded frantically8. 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 reigned9 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 lieutenant10 of artillery11. But I longed to go in like the others, and whisper: ‘Sire, give me four cannon12, and I’ll sweep the whole rabble13 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 tumult15 caused by this influx16 of people had subsided17, 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 forth19 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 solely20 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 penury21. What have become of the hundred thousand Frenchmen whom I knew by name? They are dead!”
It was not precisely22 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 loomed23 the Sinnamary. The exiles they sent there the 18th of Fructidor pointed24 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 legislative25 body to Saint-Cloud shall be proclaimed without delay. We have come here to fulfil the duty which the law imposes on us, fully18 determined26 to defend it against all factious27 persons, whoever they may be, who attempt to attack it.”
“Your zeal28 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 prop29. 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 crumbling30 on all sides, and even if I did not topple it over, it could not last eight days.”
“Ah!” cried Moulins, “at last you
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CHAPTER XXIII. ALEA JACTA EST
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CHAPTER XXV. AN IMPORTANT COMMUNICATION
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