At seven in the morning, Fouché, minister of police, entered the bedroom of Gohier, president of the Directory.
“Oh, ho!” said Gohier, when he saw him. “What has happened now, monsieur le ministre, to give me the pleasure of seeing you so early?”
“Don’t you know about the decree?” asked Fouché.
“What decree?” asked honest Gohier.
“The decree of the Council of the Ancients.”
“When was it issued?”
“Last night.”
“So the Council of the Ancients assembles at night now?”
“When matters are urgent, yes.”
“And what does the decree say.”
“It transfers the legislative1 sessions to Saint-Cloud.”
Gohier felt the blow. He realized the advantage which Bonaparte’s daring genius might obtain by this isolation2.
“And since when,” he asked Fouché, “is the minister of police transformed into a messenger of the Council of the Ancients?”
“That’s where you are mistaken, citizen president,” replied the ex-Conventional. “I am more than ever minister of police this morning, for I have come to inform you of an act which may have the most serious consequences.”
Not being as yet sure of how the conspiracy3 of the Rue4 de la Victoire would turn out, Fouché was not averse5 to keeping open a door for retreat at the Luxembourg. But Gohier, honest as he was, knew the man too well to be his dupe.
“You should have informed me of this decree yesterday, and not this morning; for in making the communication now you are scarcely in advance of the official communication I shall probably receive in a few moments.”
As he spoke7, an usher8 opened the door and informed the president that a messenger from the Inspectors9 of the Council of the Ancients was there, and asked to make him a communication.
“Let him come in,” said Gohier.
The messenger entered and handed the president a letter. He broke the seal hastily and read:
CITIZEN PRESIDENT—The Inspecting Commission hasten to inform
you of a decree removing the residence of the legislative body
to Saint-Cloud.
The decree will be forwarded to you; but measures for public
safety are at present occupying our attention.
We invite you to meet the Commission of the Ancients. You will
find Sièyes and Ducos already there.
Fraternal greetings
BARILLON,
FARGUES,
CORNET,
“Very good,” said Gohier, dismissing the messenger with a wave of his hand.
The messenger went out. Gohier turned to Fouché.
“Ah!” said he, “the plot is well laid; they inform me of the decree, but they do not send it to me. Happily you are here to tell me the terms of it.”
“But,” said Fouché, “I don’t know them.”
“What! do you the minister of police, mean to tell me that you know nothing about this extraordinary session of the Council of the Ancients, when it has been put on record by a decree?”
“Of course I knew it took place, but I was unable to be present.”
“And you had no secretary, no amanuensis to send, who could give you an account, word for word, of this session, when in all probability this session will dispose of the fate of France! Ah, citizen Fouché, you are either a very deep, or a very shallow minister of police!”
“Have you any orders to give me, citizen president?” asked Fouché.
“None, citizen minister,” replied the president. “If the Directory judges it advisable to issue any orders, it will be to men whom it esteems11 worthy12 of its confidence. You may return to those who sent you,” he added, turning his back upon the minister.
Fouché went, and Gohier immediately rang his bell. An usher entered.
“Go to Barras, Sièyes, Ducos, and Moulins, and request them to come to me at once. Ah! And at the same time ask Madame Gohier to come into my study, and to bring with her Madame Bonaparte’s letter inviting14 us to breakfast with her.”
Five minutes later Madame Gohier entered, fully15 dressed, with the note in her hand. The invitation was for eight o’clock. It was then half-past seven, and it would take at least twenty minutes to drive from the Luxembourg to the Rue de la Victoire.
“Here it is, my dear,” said Madame Gohier, handing the letter to her husband. “It says eight o’clock.”
“Yes,” replied Gohier, “I was not in doubt about the hour, but about the day.”
Taking the note from his wife’s hand, he read it over:
Come, my dear Gohier, with your wife, and breakfast with me
to-morrow at eight o’clock. Don’t fail, for I have some very
interesting things to tell you.
“Ah,” said Gohier, “there can be no mistake.”
“Well, my dear, are we going?” asked Madame Gohier.
“You are, but not I. An event has just happened about which the citizen Bonaparte is probably well-informed, which will detain my colleagues and myself at the Luxembourg.”
“A serious event?”
“Possibly.”
“Then I shall stay with you.”
“No, indeed; you would not be of any service here. Go to Madame Bonaparte’s. I may be mistaken, but, should anything extraordinary happen, which appears to you alarming, send me word some way or other. Anything will do; I shall understand half a word.”
“Very good, my dear; I will go. The hope of being useful to you is sufficient.”
“Do go!”
Just then the usher entered, and said:
“General Moulins is at my heels; citizen Barras is in his bath, and will soon be here; citizens Sièyes and Ducos went out at five o’clock this morning, and have not yet returned.”
“They are the two traitors16!” said Gohier; “Barras is only their dupe.” Then kissing his wife, he added: “Now, go.”
As she turned round, Madame Gohier came face to face with General Moulins. He, for his character was naturally impetuous, seemed furious.
“Pardon me, citizeness,” he said. Then, rushing into Gohier’s study, he cried: “Do you know what has happened, president?”
“No, but I have my suspicions.”
“The legislative body has been transferred to Saint-Cloud; the execution of the decree has been intrusted to General Bonaparte, and the troops are placed under his orders.”
“Ha! The cat’s out of the bag!” exclaimed Gohier.
“Well, we must combine, and fight them.”
“Have you heard that Sièyes and Ducos are not in the palace?”
“By Heavens! they are at the Tuileries! But Barras is in his bath; let us go to Barras. The Directory can issue decrees if there is a majority. We are three, and, I repeat it, we must make a struggle!”
“Then let us send word to Barras to come to us as soon as he is out of his bath.”
“No; let us go to him before he leaves it.”
The two Directors left the room, and hurried toward Barras’ apartment. They found him actually in his bath, but they insisted on entering.
“Well?” asked Barras as soon as he saw them.
“Have you heard?”
“Absolutely nothing.”
They told him what they themselves knew.
“Ah!” cried Barras, “that explains everything.”
“What do you mean?”
“Yes, that is why he didn’t come last night.”
“Who?”
“Why, Bonaparte.”
“Did you expect him last evening?”
“He sent me word by one of his aides-de-camp that he would call on me at eleven o’clock last evening.”
“And he didn’t come?”
“No. He sent Bourrienne in his carriage to tell me that a violent headache had obliged him to go to bed; but that he would be here early this morning.”
The Directors looked at each other.
“The whole thing is plain,” said they.
“I have sent Bollot, my secretary, a very intelligent fellow, to find out what he can,” continued Barras.
He rang and a servant entered.
“As soon as citizen Bollot returns,” said Barras, “ask him to come here.”
“He is just getting out of his carriage.”
“Send him up! Send him up!”
But Bollot was already at the door.
“Well?” cried the three Directors.
“Well, General Bonaparte, in full uniform, accompanied by Generals Beurnonville, Macdonald and Moreau, are on their way to the Tuileries, where ten thousand troops are awaiting them.”
“Moreau! Moreau with him!” exclaimed Gohier.
“On his right!”
“I always told you that Moreau was a sneak18, and nothing else!” cried Moulins, with military roughness.
“Are you still determined19 to resist, Barras?” asked Gohier.
“Yes,” replied Barras.
“Then dress yourself and join us in the council-room.”
“Go,” said Barras, “I follow you.”
The two Directors hastened to the council-room. After waiting ten minutes Moulins said: “We should have waited for Barras; if Moreau is a sneak, Barras is a knave20.”
Two hours later they were still waiting for Barras.
Talleyrand and Bruix had been admitted to Barras’ bathroom just after Gohier and Moulins had left it, and in talking with them Barras forgot his appointment.
We will now see what was happening in the Rue de la Victoire.
At seven o’clock, contrary to his usual custom, Bonaparte was up and waiting in full uniform in his bedroom. Roland entered. Bonaparte was perfectly21 calm; they were on the eve of a battle.
“Has no one come yet, Roland?” he asked.
“No, general,” replied the young man, “but I heard the roll of a carriage just now.”
“So did I,” replied Bonaparte.
At that minute a servant announced: “The citizen Joseph Bonaparte, and the citizen General Bernadotte.”
Roland questioned Bonaparte with a glance; was he to go or stay? He was to stay. Roland took his stand at the corner of a bookcase like a sentinel at his post.
“Ah, ha!” exclaimed Bonaparte, seeing that Bernadotte was still attired22 in civilian’s clothes, “you seem to have a positive horror of the uniform, general!”
“Why the devil should I be in uniform at seven in the morning,” asked Bernadotte, “when I am not in active service?”
“You will be soon.”
“But I am retired23.”
“Yes, but I recall you to active service.”
“You?”
“Yes, I.”
“In the name of the Directory?”
“Is there still a Directory?”
“Still a Directory? What do you mean?”
“Didn’t you see the troops drawn24 up in the streets leading to the Tuileries as you came here?”
“I saw them, and I was surprised.”
“Those soldiers are mine.”
“Excuse me,” said Bernadotte; “I thought they belonged to France.”
“Oh, to France or to me; is it not all one?”
“I was not aware of that,” replied Bernadotte, coldly.
“Though you doubt it now, you will be certain of it tonight. Come, Bernadotte, this is the vital moment; decide!”
“General,” replied Bernadotte, “I am fortunate enough to be at this moment a simple citizen; let me remain a simple citizen.”
“Bernadotte, take care! He that is not for me is against me.”
“General, pay attention to your words! You said just now, ‘Take care.’ If that is a threat, you know very well that I do not fear them.”
Bonaparte came up to him, and took him by both hands.
“Oh, yes, I know that; that is why I must have you with me. I not only esteem10 you, Bernadotte, but I love you. I leave you with Joseph; he is your brother-in-law. Between brothers, devil take it, there should be no quarrelling.”
“Where are you going?”
“In your character of Spartan25 you are a rigid26 observer of the laws, are you not? Well, here is a decree issued by the Council of Five Hundred last night, which confers upon me the immediate13 command of the troops in Paris. So I was right,” he added, “when I told you that the soldiers you met were mine, inasmuch as they are under my orders.”
And he placed in Bernadotte’s hands the copy of the decree which had been sent to him at six o’clock that morning. Bernadotte read it through from the first line to the last.
“To this,” said he, “I have nothing to object. Secure the safety of the National Legislature, and all good citizens will be with you.”
“Then be with me now.”
“Permit me, general, to wait twenty-four hours to see how you fulfil that mandate27.”
“Devil of a man!” cried Bonaparte. “Have your own way.” Then, taking him by the arm, he dragged him a few steps apart from Joseph, and continued, “Bernado............