part in the discussion. He entered in a hasty and angry way, which did

not give me a favourable foreboding of what he was about to say. We

passed through a narrow passage to the centre of the hall; our backs

were turned to the door. Bonaparte had the President to his right. He

could not see him full in the face. I was close to the General on his

right. Berthier was at his left.

All the speeches which have been subsequently passed off as having been

delivered by Bonaparte on this occasion differ from each other; as well

they may, for he delivered none to the Ancients, unless his confused

conversation with the President, which was alike devoid of dignity and

sense, is to be called a speech. He talked of his "brothers in arms" and

the "frankness of a soldier." The questions of the President followed

each other rapidly: they were clear; but it is impossible to conceive

anything more confused or worse delivered than the ambiguous and

perplexed replies of Bonaparte. He talked without end of "volcanoes;

secret agitations, victories, a violated constitution!" He blamed the

proceedings of the 18th Fructidor, of which he was the first promoter

and the most powerful supporter. He pretended to be ignorant of

everything until the Council of Ancients had called him to the aid of

his country. Then came "Caesar--Cromwell--tyrant!" and he several times

repeated, "I have nothing more to say to you!" though, in fact, he had

said nothing. He alleged that he had been called to assume the supreme

authority, on his return from Italy, by the desire of the nation,

and afterwards by his comrades in arms. Next followed the words

"liberty--equality!" though it was evident he had not come to St. Cloud

for the sake of either. No sooner did he utter these words, than a

member of the Ancients, named, I think, Linglet, interrupting him,

exclaimed, "You forget the Constitution!" His countenance immediately

lighted up; yet nothing could be distinguished but, "The 18th

Fructidor--the 30th Prairial--hypocrites--intriguers--I will disclose

all!--I will resign my power, when the danger which threatens the

Republic shall have passed away!"

Bonaparte, believing all his assertions to be admitted as proved,

assumed a little confidence, and accused the two directors Barras and

Moulins of having proposed to put him at the head of a party whose

object was to oppose all men professing liberal ideas.

At these words, the falsehood of which was odious, a great tumult arose

in the hall. A general committee was loudly called for to hear the

disclosures. "No, no!" exclaimed others, "no general committee!

conspirators have been denounced: it is right that France should know

all!"

Bonaparte was then required to enter into the particulars of his

accusation against Barras and Moulins, and of the proposals which had

been made to him: "You must no longer conceal anything."

Embarrassed by these interruptions and interrogatories Bonaparte

believed that he was completely lost. Instead of giving an explanation

of what he had said, he began to make fresh accusations; and against

whom? The Council of the Five Hundred, who, he said, wished for

"scaffolds, revolutionary committees, and a complete overthrow of

everything."

Violent murmurs arose, and his language became more and more

incoherent and inconsequent. He addressed himself at one moment to the

representatives of the people, who were quite overcome by astonishment;

at another to the military in the courtyard, who could not hear him.

Then, by an unaccountable transition, he spoke of "the thunderbolts of

war!" and added, that he was "attended by the God of war and the God of

fortune."

The President, with great calmness, told him that he saw nothing,

absolutely nothing, upon which the Council could deliberate; that there

was vagueness in all he had said. "Explain yourself; reveal the plot

which you say you were urged to join."

Bonaparte repeated again the same things. But only those who were

present can form any idea of his manner. There was not the slightest

connection in what he stammered out. Bonaparte was then no orator. It

may well be supposed that he was more accustomed to the din of war than

to the discussions of the tribunes. He was more at home before a battery

than before a President's chair.

Perceiving the bad effect which this unconnected babbling produced on

the assembly, as well as the embarrassment of Bonaparte, I said, in

a low voice, pulling him gently by the skirt of his coat, "withdraw,

General; you know not what you are saying." I made signs to Berthier,

who was on his left, to second me in persuading him to leave the hall;

and all at once, after having stammered out a few more words, he turned

round exclaiming, "Let those who love me follow me!" The sentinels

at the door offered no opposition to his passing. The person who went

before him quietly drew aside the tapestry which concealed the door, and

General Bonaparte leaped upon his horse, which stood in the court-yard.

It is hard to say what would have happened if, on seeing the General

retire, the President had said, "Grenadiers, let no one pass!" Instead

of sleeping next day at the Luxembourg he would, I am convinced, have

ended his career on the Place de la Revolution.