century—­nothing in the eighteenth century resembled this moment.  Your wisdom has devised the necessary measure; our arms shall put it in execution.”  Care had been taken to send no summons to the members of the council whom the conspirators considered as decidedly hostile to their schemes; yet several began to murmur loudly at this tone.  “I come,” resumed Napoleon, sternly, “I come accompanied by the God of War and the God of Fortune.”  His friends were alarmed lest this violence should produce some violent re-action in the assembly, and prevailed on him to withdraw. “Let those that love me follow me” said he, and was immediately on horseback again.  “In truth,” says De Bourienne, “I know not what would have happened, had the President, when he saw the General retiring, exclaimed, Grenadiers, let no one go out:  it is my conviction that, instead of sleeping the day after at the Luxembourg, he would have ended his career on the Place de la Revolution.”

The command entrusted to Napoleon was forthwith announced to the soldiery; and they received the intelligence with enthusiasm—­the mass of course little comprehending to what, at such a moment, such authority amounted.

The three Directors, meanwhile, who were not in the secret, and who had been much amused with seeing their colleague Sieyes set off on horseback an hour or two earlier from the Luxembourg, had begun to understand what that timely exhibition of the Abbe’s awkward horsemanship portended.  One of them, Moulins, proposed to send a battalion to surround Buonaparte’s house and arrest him.  Their own guard laughed at them.  Buonaparte was already in the Tuileries, with many troops around him; and the Directorial Guard, being summoned by one of his aides-de-camp, instantly marched thither also, leaving the Luxembourg at his mercy.  Barras sent his secretary to expostulate.  Napoleon received him with haughtiness.  “What have you done,” cried he, “for that fair France which I left you so prosperous?  For peace I find war; for the wealth of Italy, taxation and misery.  Where are the 100,000 brave French whom I knew—­where are the companions of my glory?—­They are dead.”  Barras, who well knew that Buonaparte would never forgive him for having boasted that the conqueror of Italy and Egypt owed everything to his early favour, and whose infamous personal conduct in the articles of bribery and exaction made him tremble at the thought of impeachment, resigned his office:  so did his colleagues, Gohier and Moulins.  Sieyes and Ducos had done so already.  Bernadotte, indeed, repaired to the Luxembourg ere Moulins and Gohier had resigned, and offered his sword and influence, provided they would nominate him to the command of the forces jointly with Napoleon.  They hesitated:  his word of honour given to Buonaparte, that he would do nothing as a citizen, rendered it indispensable that they should take that decisive step; by doing so they would at least have given the soldiery a fair choice—­they hesitated—­and their power was at an end.  The Luxembourg was immediately guarded by troops in whom Napoleon could place implicit confidence.  The Directory was no more.