eakfast on the
morning of 18th Brumaire; but Gohier, suspecting a snare, remained at
his official residence, the Luxemburg Palace. None the less the
Directory was doomed; for the two defenders of the institution had not
the necessary quorum for giving effect to their decrees. Moulin
thereupon escaped, and Gohier was kept under guard--by Moreau's
soldiery![128]

Meanwhile, accompanied by a brilliant group of generals, Bonaparte
proceeded to the Tuileries, where the Ancients were sitting; and by
indulging in a wordy declamation he avoided taking the oath to the
constitution required of a general on entering upon a new command. In
the Council of Five Hundred, Lucien Bonaparte stopped the eager
questions and murmurs, on the pretext that the session was only legal
at St. Cloud.

There, on the next day (19th Brumaire or 10th November), a far more
serious blow was to be struck. The overthrow of the Directory was a
foregone conclusion. But with the Legislature it was far otherwise,
for its life was still whole and vigorous. Yet, while amputating a
moribund limb, the plotters did not scruple to paralyze the brain of
the body politic.

Despite the adhesion of most of the Ancients to his plans, Bonaparte,
on appearing before them, could only utter a succession of short,
jerky phrases which smacked of the barracks rather than of the Senate.
Retiring in some confusion, he regains his presence of mind among the
soldiers outside, and enters the hall of the Five Hundred, intending
to intimidate them not only by threats, but by armed force. At the
sight of the uniforms at the door, the republican enthusiasm of the
younger deputies catches fire. They fiercely assail him with cries of
"Down with the tyrant! down with the Dictator! outlaw him!" In vain
Lucien Bonaparte commands order. Several deputies rush at the general,
and fiercely shake him by the collar. He turns faint with excitement
and chagrin; but Lefebvre and a few grenadiers rushing up drag him
from the hall. He comes forth like a somnambulist (says an onlooker),
pursued by the terrible cry, "Hors la loi!" Had the cries at once
taken form in a decree, the history of the world might have been
different. One of the deputies, General Augereau, fiercely demands
that the motion of outlawry be put to the vote. Lucien Bonaparte
refuses, protests, weeps, finally throws off his official robes, and
is rescued from the enraged deputies by grenadiers whom the
conspirators send in for t