Napoleon Bonaparte, John S. C. Abbott [room on the broom read aloud txt] 📗

Republic. And I solemnly swear to protect that liberty and equality , for which we have made such sacrifices.”

“And the Constitution !” some one cried out. Napoleon had purposely omitted the Constitution in his oath, for he despised it, and was at that moment laboring for its overthrow. He paused for a moment, and then, with increasing energy exclaimed, “The institution! you have none. You violated when the Executive infringed the rights of the Legislature. You violated it when the Legislature struck at the independence of the Executive. You violated it when, with sacriligious hand, both the Legislature and Executive struck at the sovereignty of the people, by annulling their elections. The Constitution! It is a mockery; invoked by all, regarded by none.”

 

Rallied by the presence of Napoleon, and by these daring words, his friends recovered their courage, and two-thirds of the Assembly rose in expression of their confidence and support. At this moment intelligence arrived that the Five Hundred were compelling Lucien to put to the vote Napoleon’s outlawry. Not an instant was to be lost. There is a mysterious power in law. The passage of that vote would probably have been fatal. Life and death were trembling in the balance. “I would then have given two hundred millions,” said Napoleon, “to have had Ney by my side.” Turning to the Ancients, he exclaimed, “if any orator, paid by foreigners, shall talk of outlawing me, I will appeal for protection to my brave companions in arms, whose plumes are nodding at the door. Remember that I march accompanied by the God of fortune and by the God of war.”

 

He immediately left the Ancients, and, attended by his military band, hastened to the Council of Five Hundred. On his way he met Augereau, who was pale and trembling, deeming Napoleon lost. “You have got yourself into a pretty fix,” said he, with deep agitation.

“Matters were worse at Arcola,” Napoleon coolly replied. “Keep quiet.

All will be changed in half an hour.” Followed by his grenadiers, he immediately entered the Hall of the Five Hundred. The soldiers remained near the door. Napoleon traversed alone half of the room to reach the bar. It was an hour in which nothing could save him but the resources of his own mind. Furious shouts rose from all parts of the house. “What means this! down with the tyrant! begone!”

“The winds,” says Napoleon, “suddenly escaping from the caverns of Aeolus can give but a faint idea of that tempest.” In the midst of the horrible confusion he in vain endeavored to speak. The members, in the wildest fray, crowded around him. The grenadiers witnessing the peril of their chief rushed to his rescue. A dagger was struck at his bosom. A soldier, with his arm, parried the blow. With their bayonets they drove back the members, and encircling Napoleon, bore him from the Hall. Napoleon had hardly descended the outer steps ere some one informed him that his brother Lucien was surrounded by the infuriated deputies, and that his life was in imminent jeopardy.

“Colonel Dumoulin,” said he, “take a battalion of grenadiers and hasten to my brother’s deliverance.” The soldiers rushed into the room, drove back the crowd who, with violent menaces, were surrounding Lucien, and saying, “It is by your brother’s commands,” escorted him in safety out of the ball into the court-yard. Napoleon, now mounting his horse, with Lucien by his side, rode along in front of his troops.” The Council of Five Hundred,” exclaimed Lucien, “is dissolved. It is I that tell you so. Assassins have taken possession of the hall of meeting. I summon you to march and clear it of them.” “Soldiers!” said Napoleon, “can I rely upon you!”

………. “Long live Bonaparte,” was the simultaneous response Murat took a battalion of grenadiers and marched to the entrance of the hall. When Murat headed a column it was well known that there would be no child’s play. “Charge bayonets, forward!” he exclaimed, with imperturbable coolness. The drums beat the charge. Steadily the bristling line of steel advanced. The terrified representatives leaped over the benches, rushed through the passage ways, and sprang out of the windows, throwing upon the floor, in their precipitate flight, gowns, scarfs, and hats. In two minutes the hall was cleared.

As the Representatives were flying in dismay across the garden, on officer proposed that the soldiers should be ordered to fire upon them. Napoleon decisively refused, saying, “It is my wish that not a single drop of blood be split.”

 

As Napoleon wished to avail himself as far as possible, of the forms of law, he assembled the two legislative bodies in the evening.

Those only attended who were friendly to his cause. Unanimously they decreed that Napoleon had deserved well of his country; they abolished the Directory. The executive power they vested in Napoleon, Sieyes, and Ducos, with the title of Consuls. Two committees of twenty-five members each, taken from the two Councils, were appointed to co-operate with the Consuls in forming a new Constitution. During the evening the rumor reached Paris that Napoleon had failed in his enterprise. The consternation was great. The mass of the people, of all ranks, dreading the renewal of revolutionary horrors, and worn out with past convulsions, passionately longed for repose Their only hope was in Napoleon. At nine o’clock at night intelligence of the change of government was officially announced, by a proclamation which the victor had dictated with the rapidity and the glowing eloquence which characterized all of his mental acts. It was read by torchlight to assembled and deeply agitated groups, all over the city. The welcome tidings were greeted with the liveliest demonstrations of applause. At three o’clock in the morning Napoleon threw himself into his carriage to return to Paris. Bourrienne accompanied him. Napoleon appeared so absorbed in thought, that he uttered not one single word during the ride.

 

At four o’clock in the morning he alighted from his carriage, at the door of his dwelling in the Rue Chanteraine. Josephine, in the greatest anxiety, was watching at the window for his approach.

Napoleon had not been able to send her one single line during the turmoil and the peril of that eventful day. She sprang to meet him.

Napoleon foundly encircled her in his arms, briefly recapitulated the scenes of the day, and assured her that since he had taken the oath of office, he had not allowed himself to speak to a single individual, for he wished that the beloved voice of his Josephine might be the first to congratulate him upon his virtual accession to the Empire of France. The heart of Josephine could appreciate a delicacy of love so refined and so touching. Well might she say, “Napoleon is the most fascinating of men.” It was then after four o’clock in the morning. The dawn of the day to conduct Napoleon to a new scene of Herculean toil in organizing the Republic Throwing himself upon a couch, for a few moments of repose, he exclaimed, gayly, “good-night, my Josephine! To-morrow, we sleep in the palace of the Luxembourg.”

 

Napoleon was then but twenty-nine years of age. And yet, under circumstances of inconceivable difficulty, with unhesitating reliance upon his own mental resources, he assumed the enormous care of creating and administering a Lew government for thirty millions of people. Never did he achieve a victory which displayed more consummate genius. On no occasion of his life did his majestic intellectual power beam forth with more brilliance. It is not to be expected that, for ages to come, the world will be united in opinion respecting this transaction. Some represent it as an outrage against law and liberty. Others consider it a necessary act which put an end to corruption and anarchy. That the course which Napoleon pursued was in accordance with the wished of the overwhelming majority of the French people on one can doubt. It is questionable whether, even now, France is prepared for self-government. There can be no question that then the republic had totally failed.

Said Napoleon, in reference to this revolution, “For my part, all my share of the plot, was confined to assembling the crowd of my visitors at the same hour in the morning, and marching at their head to seize upon power. It was from the threshold of my door, and without my friends having any previous knowledge of my intentions, that I led them to this conquest. p It was amidst the brilliant escort which they formed, their lively joy and unanimous ardor, that I presented myself a the bar of the Ancients to thank them for the dictatorship with which they invested me. Metaphysicians have disputed and will long dispute, whether we did not violate the laws, and whether we were not criminal. But these are mere abstractions which should disappear before imperious necessity. One might as well blame a sailor for waste and destruction, when he cuts away a mast to save his ship. the fact is, had it not been for us the country must have been lost. We saved it. The authors of that memorable state transaction ought to answer their accusers proudly, like the Roman, ‘We protest that we have saved our country. Come with us and render thanks to the Gods.’”

 

With the exception of the Jacobins all parties were strongly in favor of this revolution. For ten years the people had been so accustomed to the violation of the laws, that they had ceased to condemn such acts, and judged of them only by their consequences.

All over France the feeling was nearly universal in favor of the new government. Says Alison, who surely will not be accused of regarding Napoleon with a partial eye, “Napoleon rivaled Caesar in the elemency with which he used his victory. No proscriptions or massacres, few arrests or imprisonments followed the triumph of order over revolution. On the contrary, numerous acts of merey, as wise as they were magnanimous, illustrated the rise of the consular throne. The elevation of Napoleon was not only unstained by blood, but not even a single captive long lamented the car of the victor.

A signal triumph of the principles of humility over those of cruelty, glorious alike to the actors and the age in which it occurred: and a memorable proof how much more durable are the victories obtained by moderation and wisdom, than those achieved by violence and stained by blood.” �

 

End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of Napoleon Bonaparte by John S. C. Abbott