On the morning of 30 October he went out for a ride with Regnaud, and on the way back his horse stumbled over some rocks in the park, throwing Bonaparte, who lost consciousness. It took several hours to bring him round, but that evening he was back in Paris, dining with Barras, who was still trying to enlist his support. There was something about Barras’ behaviour on this occasion that produced a violent reaction in Bonaparte, who made up his mind to have nothing more to do with his former protector. The next morning Barras called, seemingly in apologetic mood, and he returned the following day, 1 November, declaring that he was prepared to back him. But Bonaparte brushed him off, saying that he was not contemplating taking action as he was too tired and ill after his Egyptian exertions and would be good for nothing for at least three months. That evening he met Sieyès at Lucien’s lodgings.
Sieyès frankly declared that he meant to take power in order to introduce a new constitution, and needed a general to provide backing and keep the populace at bay. Bonaparte made a show of democratic convictions, stating that he would never support anything that had not been ‘freely discussed and approved by a properly conducted universal vote’. Sieyès had no option but to accept Bonaparte’s terms, although he was probably beginning to see that he himself would be sidelined. ‘I wish to march with General Bonaparte,’ he told Joseph, ‘because, of all the military men he is the most civilian.’22
Bonaparte was now approached by General Jourdan, who had been delegated by a group of Jacobins to propose that if he were to join them in overthrowing the government they would make him head of the executive power, provided it was a strictly republican one. He made a show of gratitude and pretended to give the proposal his consideration.23
It was by now common knowledge in Paris that something was afoot, and people speculated openly as to what was about to happen, but there was no sign of alarm on the part of the authorities. The Directors were in the dark, as Fouché kept his police reports bland. At the same time, each of them was either planning something himself, like Sieyès and Roger Ducos, contemplating joining in, like Barras, or had at least been sounded out, like Gohier and his colleague Moulin. But their lack of unity precluded them from taking any action. With so many people looking over their shoulders in what remained a fluid situation in which nobody trusted anyone else, danger lurked everywhere. It was not so much the wish to be on the winning side as the fear of finding themselves on the losing one that made people dangerous.24
Bonaparte called on Talleyrand late one night to discuss the action to be taken. At one point they heard a carriage and a troop of horse trotting down the street come to a halt outside the door. There was a sound of voices and some commotion. Fearing they were about to be arrested, Talleyrand blew out the candles and crept to the window. It turned out that a carriage carrying the evening’s takings of one of the more popular gaming houses of Paris, which always had an escort of cavalry, had suffered a broken wheel. Talleyrand and Bonaparte laughed, but their fear was not groundless, and tension mounted in the capital. One evening Bonaparte sought relief by listening with Fouché to a recital of the Odes of Ossian set to music.25
On 6 November the two chambers hosted a banquet for 750 in honour of Bonaparte and Moreau in the Temple of Victory, formerly the church of Saint-Sulpice. The building was decked out with tapestries and captured standards, and trestle tables had been set up in the shape of a horseshoe, but it was cold, with the autumn damp filling the vast unheated church. When Bonaparte arrived accompanied by his staff, the crowd outside cheered ‘Vive Bonaparte! La paix! La paix!’ He duly drank the toasts proposed, from a bottle he had brought himself along with a loaf of bread, the only food he touched. He had also taken the precaution of surrounding himself with a ring of faithful aides. ‘I have never seen a more silent assembly with less trust and gaiety among the company,’ noted Lavalette. A newspaper report observed that the only conversation was made by musical instruments. Bonaparte left while most of the guests were only halfway through their dinner.26
Later that evening he had a long talk with Sieyès about a course of action. They both wished to stick as closely as possible to legality and to avoid the need for military intervention, other than to keep the peace and prevent a possible assault on the assemblies by a mob called out by the Jacobins. The plan was straightforward: a majority if not all of the Directors would resign, creating a vacuum of power which would force the two assemblies to step in, declare that the government had ceased to exist, and sanction the introduction of a new constitution. Sieyès felt the task of drafting it should go to him – he had been writing the ideal constitution in his head for years. But Bonaparte insisted it be drafted by a committee nominated by the two assemblies and then approved by national plebiscite. This committee, which would also fulfil the role of a provisional government, was to consist of three ‘consuls’: Sieyès, Bonaparte and Roger Ducos.
To ensure that everything went smoothly and to eliminate any possibility of the Tuileries being invaded by a Jacobin mob, it was decided to use the constitutional clause which allowed the two assemblies to transfer from Paris to a place of safety in case of danger. As the presidents of both, Lucien Bonaparte and Louis Lemercier, and the two men in charge of the administration, the inspectors of the assemblies, were in on the plot, there should be no problem in arranging this. The date was provisionally set for 7 November, but Bonaparte would insist on putting it back by two days.
He wanted to make a last attempt to neutralise the Jacobins, and on 7 November he had lunch with General Jourdan at the rue de la Victoire. Jourdan, a principled republican, was probably the only man who could have roused the left to action. After lunch they walked in the garden and Jourdan proposed that Bonaparte join him in a Jacobin coup. Bonaparte told him his faction was too weak, but reassured him about his own republican convictions, and as they parted Jourdan intimated that he would not oppose him. That evening, Bonaparte attended a dinner given by Bernadotte, after which he once more attempted to engage his support, but Bernadotte appears to have thought that he was in a strong position, and that if he kept aloof he would hold the trump card at the decisive moment.27
The next day was devoted to final preparations and the composition of announcements and declarations to be posted on walls and published in the press immediately after the event. There was also the question of securing the necessary funds, and last-minute talks with bankers and men of business bore fruit. That evening there was a final confabulation at which the details of the next day’s action were finalised.
Captain Horace Sébastiani, a fellow Corsican devoted to Bonaparte, was ordered to deploy his dragoons early the next morning before the Tuileries, seat of the two assemblies. Murat was to rally two other cavalry regiments. Bonaparte had notified those officers who had come to pay their respects and whom he had declined to receive on his return from Egypt that he would now be pleased to see them, but that due to pressing circumstances he could only do so at six on the morning of 9 November. They were invited individually, and until they reached his house in the rue de la Victoire in the early-morning dark they would be under the impression that they were to have a private interview with the hero of Italy and Egypt. He had instructed those already in on the plot to convene there at the same time, so when they arrived they would find themselves in a crowd of over fifty high-ranking officers.
Bonaparte went to bed at two in the morning. At the Tuileries the two inspectors of the chambers, Mathieu-Augustin Cornet and Jean-François Baraillon, sat up all night writing out summonses to members of the Council of Elders to come to an emergency meeting at seven o’clock in the morning. They were watched over by the Guard of the Assemblies, whose non-commissioned officers would deliver the messages at six, but only to those members of the assembly deemed reliable. Those who might cause trouble would be left to sleep.
18
Fog
As the bleary-eyed representatives of the people made their way down still-dark streets on the morning of 9 November (18 Brum
aire, the month of mist in the revolutionary calendar), Sébastiani’s dragoons and Murat’s chasseurs were taking up positions around the Tuileries, and the National Guard stood to on the Champs Élysées. Once the members of the Council of Elders had donned their togas and taken their seats, they were informed by Cornet that there was a sinister plot by infamous brigands to bring down the government. The assemblies were in grave danger, he declared, and they must make immediate arrangements to transfer to a place of safety, suggesting the former royal palace of Saint-Cloud outside Paris. In order to safeguard the move and protect them they must, he went on, call on the hero of Egypt, General Bonaparte, who was devoted to the defence of the Republic.
A few of the deputies raised questions of substance and others of order, but with only the most favourable 150 of the 250 members present, these were easily brushed aside by the president, Lemercier, and a decree whose text had been prepared beforehand was duly passed. It stipulated that on the following day the assemblies would remove to Saint-Cloud, where they would resume their legislative function under the protection of General Bonaparte, who was invested for the purpose with command of all the troops in the Paris region. It was borne by the two inspectors to the rue de la Victoire.
There, Bonaparte had been busy, calling officers into his study one at a time to assure himself of their support or to discuss details of the day’s operations. Those who had accepted his invitation as a purely social call were effectively trapped. On seeing the gathering, one reportedly told his coachman to drive away but was prevented by Bonaparte, who almost pulled him out of his carriage. Once there, they found it difficult to leave, and the more notables they saw at Bonaparte’s side the more likely they were to go along.1
Bonaparte was annoyed at Bernadotte’s failure to show. A greater disappointment was that Gohier, whom Josephine had disingenuously invited to take breakfast with her that morning, also failed to turn up. But Moreau came, as did General Lefèbvre, military governor of Paris, whom Bonaparte charmed by presenting him with the sabre he had used at the battle of the pyramids. The old Alsatian was so moved that he vowed ‘to throw those lawyer buggers into the river’.2
When the copy of the decree of the Elders arrived, Bonaparte emerged from his study and, after reading it out, called on those present to assist him in saving the Republic. Then, mounting a magnificent black Andalusian lent him for the occasion by Admiral Bruix, he set off for the Tuileries, escorted by cavalry and a suite of generals and senior officers in brilliant uniforms, cheered along the way by ignorant yet admiring onlookers. At about ten o’clock he entered the chamber of the Council of Elders, flanked by Berthier and a handful of other generals, and gave a rehearsed speech, praising them for their wisdom in entrusting the safety of the Republic to him, and swearing to uphold it.3
Lemercier accepted his oath and confirmed him in command of the guard of the assemblies (Bonaparte surreptitiously added the Directors’ guard), which he now went out to inspect. These were not his soldiers, and he could not take their loyalty for granted. An unexpected opportunity presented itself in the person of Bottot, the secretary of Barras, who had been sent out to see what was going on. Bonaparte collared him, drew him towards the ranks of troops and delivered a rousing address, cribbed from a newspaper report he had recently read. ‘What have you done with this France which I left in such a brilliant state?’ he harangued the unfortunate Bottot. ‘I left you peace, and I find war! I left you victories and have found defeat! I left the millions of Italy and I now find only extortionate laws and misery everywhere!’ he thundered, accusing, in the person of the hapless Bottot, the entire French political class of having squandered the sacrifices made by the ‘hundred thousand’ brave men, his ‘companions in glory’ who had laid down their lives in defence of the Republic. He accused them of factionalism and said it was time to entrust the Republic to the brave soldiers who could be counted on to defend it selflessly. The men were his to command.4
Bonaparte mounted his black horse, which he was having some difficulty in mastering, and made the rounds of the units that had mustered in the city, exciting their enthusiasm for they knew not what with dramatic statements empty of substance. He looked heroic, his reputation spoke to every soldier, and his suite of generals and senior officers, which had now swelled to 150, lent him unquestionable authority.5
Meanwhile, Sieyès had turned up at the Tuileries, on horseback to give himself added allure (he had taken riding lessons a couple of days before). He was accompanied by Ducos, and they were soon joined by their colleagues Moulin and Gohier. All four Directors endorsed the decree of the Elders for the removal of the assemblies to Saint-Cloud. But when Sieyès suggested that Gohier and Moulin resign their office as he and Ducos had done, they refused and set off for the seat of government in the Luxembourg to compose a letter of protest. This would be of no consequence, since the building was hermetically sealed by troops under Moreau. The Council of the Five Hundred, which had in the meantime convened in its usual seat, the Palais-Bourbon on the left bank of the Seine, was equally powerless. Outraged Jacobin deputies had to accept the decree passed by the Elders as constitutional, and Lucien closed the session, instructing them to reconvene on the morrow at Saint-Cloud.
In order to bring about the key event, the dissolution of the Directory, it was essential that a majority of its members resign, and since both Gohier and Moulin had refused, it was now imperative to get Barras to do so. He had been alerted that something was afoot, but decided to keep out of the way by prolonging his morning toilette, taking twice as long as usual to shave and bathe while he sent Bottot out on reconnaissance. As he waited hopefully for an offer of some kind from Bonaparte, the Luxembourg emptied, first of its guards, then of its servants. Power gradually dissipated around him. At about midday he received a visit from Talleyrand and Admiral Bruix, who produced the draft of a letter of resignation for him. He realised that he was finished. Obediently he wrote out the prepared text, which protested his ‘passion for liberty’, which alone had made him accept a part in the government. ‘The glory which accompanies the return of the illustrious warrior for whom I had the honour of opening the road to glory’ had at last allowed him to give up this unwanted task and return with joy to the ranks of ordinary citizens. Talleyrand had brought a purse with two million francs, intended as a reward, but there is some doubt as to whether he did not keep it for himself. Outside, a troop of cavalry was ready to escort the former Director to his country residence.6
By all accounts Paris remained peaceful throughout the day and that evening the theatres were as full as ever. The more politically ambitious, or vulnerable, began calling on Bonaparte at the Tuileries to make their act of obeisance just in case. The principals of the coup lingered at the palace that night to discuss plans for the following day, which was to see the decisive act, but they inexplicably failed to agree a concrete plan of action. Sieyès was prolix in abstractions, Ducos said nothing. The only specific suggestion made by Sieyès was that they should have forty of the most obviously hostile representatives arrested. Bonaparte rejected this proposal, declaring that he stood above such methods, confident that his prestige would carry the day. When they parted, the stage had been set but there was no script for what was to be played out on it. As he drove home through the pouring rain, Bonaparte declared himself satisfied with the way things had gone. He nevertheless laid a pair of loaded pistols by his bedside before retiring for the night.7
Although he had seemingly neutralised Jourdan, Bonaparte could not be sure the Jacobins would remain passive. He had been using Saliceti, now a member of the Five Hundred, as a go-between to calm their fears about his intentions. Saliceti had warned the Jacobins to stay away that morning, assuring them that it was only thanks to Bonaparte that Sieyès had not had them arrested. But while Bonaparte and his associates confabulated at the Tuileries, Bernadotte had been trying to persuade the Jacobins to use their influence in the assemblies to have himself appointed to command alongside Bonapart
e.8
Bonaparte was up at four o’clock on 10 November and drove to Saint-Cloud with Bourrienne, escorted by a clutch of aides and a troop of cavalry. He was aware that if he did not carry off the coup he would end up on the scaffold, but he trusted in his luck. He could certainly not trust in many of his associates. As soon as the principal actors had left Paris, Fouché, who was not entirely confident the coup would succeed, set up an efficient chain of communication with Saint-Cloud and prepared to arrest the conspirators if they were to fail.9
On arrival at Saint-Cloud, where the two assemblies were to take their seats at midday, Bonaparte found preparations being made to provide them with accommodation in the seventeenth-century palace. The Elders were to convene in the impressive Gallery of Apollo, decorated with frescoes by Mignard, which had been cleaned up and furnished with a few tapestries and rows of unmatched chairs hastily taken from the royal furniture store. The Five Hundred were to meet in the orangery, a long building overlooking the garden with tall windows reaching almost to the floor on one side. As it was too long, a partition was being erected halfway along, and its discoloured, shabby walls were being hung with tapestries, while carpenters laboured to build a rostrum and stepped seating. The building, which had stood empty for ten years, only occasionally hosting a public ball or other festivity, was cold and damp.
Bonaparte took over one of the palace’s drawing rooms as his headquarters. Talleyrand had rented a house nearby in which he, Roederer and others waited, ready to climb into a waiting carriage if things went wrong. Sieyès too had taken the precaution of parking his carriage in a discreet place nearby in case he had to make a quick getaway. It was said that some of the conspirators were carrying large sums in ready money for the same reason. Bonaparte himself seems to have had an attack of nerves shortly after his arrival, and flew into a rage with an officer for no reason.10
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