that I should speedily be wanted. Bonaparte soon returned
home; and as intelligence of the affair had spread through Paris the
grand salon on the ground-floor was filled with a crowd of functionaries,
eager to read in the eye of their master what they were to think and say
on the occasion. He did not keep them long in suspense. "This,"
exclaimed he vehemently, "is the work of the Jacobins: they have
attempted my life.... There are neither nobles, priests, nor Chouans in
this affair!... I know what I am about, and they need not think to
impose on me. These are the Septembrizers who have been in open revolt
and conspiracy, and arrayed against every succeeding Government. It is
scarce three months since my life was attempted by Uracchi, Arena;
Topino-Lebrun, and Demerville. They all belong to one gang! The
cutthroats of September, the assassins of Versailles, the brigands of the
81st of May, the conspirators of Prairial are the authors of all the
crimes committed against established Governments! If they cannot be
checked they must be crashed! France must be purged of these ruffians!"
It is impossible to form any idea of the bitterness with which Bonaparte,
pronounced these words. In vain did some of the Councillors of State,
and Fouche in particular, endeavour to point out to him that there was no
evidence against any one, and that before he pronounced people to be
guilty it would be right to ascertain the fact. Bonaparte repeated with
increased violence what he had before said of the Jacobins; thus adding;
not without some ground of suspicion, one crime more to, the long
catalogue for which they had already to answer.

Fouche had many enemies, and I was not, therefore, surprised to find some
of the Ministers endeavouring to take advantage of the difference between
his opinion and that of the First Consul; and it must be owned that the
utter ignorance of the police respecting this event was a circumstance
not very favourable to Fouche. He, however, was like the reed in the
fable--he bent with the wind, but was soon erect again. The most skilful
actor could scarcely imitate the inflexible calmness he maintained during
Bonaparte's paroxysm of rage, and the patience with which he allowed
himself to be accused.

Fouche, when afterwards conversing with me, gave me clearly to understand
that he did not think the Jacobins guilty. I mentioned this to the First
Consul, but nothing could make him retract his opinion. "Fouche," said