by Eugène Sue
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 trad
itions 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 Eugène 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.
