had been sincere in its fanaticism it now became hypocritical, and swayed entirely by interested motives. Henceforth the army was everything, the bourgeoisie next to nothing, in the State; and without Buonaparte's presence, a vast step had been made in his progress to power by the agents who served him so well. He did not, however, show any indecent joy, but rather, with profound dissimulation, affected indifference to the constitutional change, talked of being disgusted with power and responsibility, and of his wish to retire into private life, where he might take his chance with other citizens. Above all, he warned the Directory of the evils of establishing a military government, and acted his part so successfully that his repeatedly proffered resignation was earnestly deprecated, and he was requested to continue in his command as the only safety to the State.

Such was the state of affairs immediately before the peace of Campo Formio. Buonaparte was anxious to conclude it that his hands might be free to carry out his vaster projects; the Directory was equally anxious to defer it for the opposite reason. In his letters to the Directory he kept up a running fire of arguments why peace should be immediately concluded, even at the sacrifice of Venice, which the Directory were rather ashamed of entertaining. He urged especially the necessity of an invasion of England, since "the English people was worth more than the Venetian people, and its liberation would consolidate for ever the happiness and the liberty of France!" It is doubtful if Buonaparte ever was serious about invading England, for none knew better that without the command of the sea England was impregnable, and at this very time his mind was full of the scheme for the invasion of Egypt, for which he was even beginning to make active preparations. The peace of Campo Formio was signed 17th October 1797, just

In

in time; for immediately after the signatures were affixed a courier of the Directory arrived, forbidding him to assign to Austria the line of the Adige, and announcing that he himself was soon to be superseded as a negotiator. The Directory was furious, but such was the explosion of joy in France at the conclusion of the peace, that they did not dare to refuse their ratification. The free republic of Venice was sold into Austrian slavery by the emancipator of Italy, who was thus left free to enslave his own country at the first convenient season. 1859 there was an opportunity for France to repair the wrong she then did to Venetia, but she mainly owes the tardy reparation to the arms of Prussia. Still it must be allowed that when the Emperor of Austria, after Königgrätz, ceded Venetia to France, France had the power to have retained it, and would probably have done so, had the spirit of the second Empire been similar to that of the first. When Buonaparte arrived in Paris on the 5th of December 1797, after a delay which was studiously imposed on himself to show that he was indifferent to popular ovations, he was the object of universal attention; but he conducted himself in such a way that the people had no time to get tired of their idol, and he was anxious to be off again as soon as possible, that the enthusiasm should not be in danger of cooling. The time was not yet come for his making himself master of the State; but his modest and thoroughly civic demeanour in Paris, as a foundation on which to build still more dazzling exploits, was a step in the right direction. Having won golden opinions while at home, he would be more easily able to silence the calumnies of the envious in his absence. He now let it be known that he had come to the conclusion that the preparations intended for the invasion of England herself ought to be destined for the East, where she might

be struck in a more vulnerable part. The expedition to Egypt certainly promised brilliant results, but little solid advantage. The conquest of the country was easy, but what to do with it when conquered was another matter; and as long as the English possessed the sea as a road to India, the shutting up of the overland route would only produce a temporary inconvenience. Buonaparte was certainly too wise a man to think that he could bring troops by the path of Alexander into India, in a state fit to encounter the forces that the English would bring against them. M. Lanfrey is here somewhat severe on the prudence of the great cap tain. "The idea of dragging out of France into a distant and little known country, with which our communications were sure to be cut off within a given time, the élite of our soldiers, generals, and savans, at a moment when peace was not yet signed, when Europe was still in arms against us, when such a conquest could not fail to aggravate discontent and rekindle discouraged but not extinguished enmity, was one almost as impolitic as that which, at a later date, gave birth to the Russian war, although not of a nature to bring in its train such great disasters." But Buonaparte was a daring gamester, and not afraid to stake high on occasion. He had apparently calculated, that while he was winning laurels in Egypt, the other French generals would be losing them elsewhere, and by the time it became a question of how to get the army home again, public opinion would have sealed him as the indispensable man. Of course there was a very strong chance of Nelson catching him on the high seas, but he trusted in his star, and in this instance his star did not forsake him. M. Lanfrey quotes the 'Mémoires de Napoléon,' in support of the reality of this Machiavellian policy: "In order that he should be master of France it was necessary that

the Directory should experience reverses in his absence, and that his return should recall victory to our standards." He was also doubtless instigated by his natural restlessness, and more than repose itself "he feared that inevitable analysis to which he was sure to be submitted by the clever and penetrating scepticism of the salons of Paris, a sort of intellectual laboratory which decomposes everything. He knew that fickle and satirical public which avenges itself for its infatuations by its indifference, and so soon acquires a familiarity with the idols to which it has offered most incense. "At Paris," said he to his confidants, "nothing is remembered; if I stay long without doing anything, I am lost. If they see me three times at the theatre, they will not look at me any longer." And in the East a sufficiently large field of action opened itself to an ambition as vast as that of Alexander, who at the same early age found Europe too small to hold him. Such trifles as the unjust occupation of Malta, against whose knights France had no complaint, and the seizure of a province belonging to Turkey, which had proved herself the faithful ally of France, were light as air, when projects so vast weighed down the other scale of the balance. The only preliminary difficulty was one very common in all enterprises, but very prosaic,-the want of money. To provide this it was necessary to occupy Rome, and to invade and pillage Switzerland. So the cradle of European freedom was sacked, and the metropolis of the fine arts denuded of its treasures, to supply the greed of the model Republic, whose inhabitants plumed themselves on being the most refined of European nations. Notwithstanding Buonaparte's exquisite policy, the Directory were so afraid of him that they were glad to get rid of him at any price, and this only can account for their falling into his trap, and allowing him to drag into exile

the flower of their armies and the best of their generals. They may possibly have seen that the danger resulting from his presence was only deferred, and would increase with his successes; but they doubtless thought it very likely that some accident might happen to him. Thus it was with the Athenians when they sent Cleon to Pylos. They reckoned that either their army would be successful, in which case they would be consoled for the safety of Cleon, or that, if unsuccessful, its failure would involve a riddance from the troublesome demagogue. So the expedition to Egypt sailed, after a harangue to the soldiers, in which, with his usual naïveté, Buonaparte chiefly dwelt on the booty to be got an argument the efficacy of which he had fully proved by past experience. We all know how narrowly it missed being caught by Nelson in the Mediterranean, who said with reference to its escape, that when he died, "want of frigates "would be found engraven on his heart; and how, after it had safely disembarked, the fleet which had carried it was caught in Aboukir Bay by our immortal sailor, and blown to pieces. Sea-battles were not decided in those days by collisions between huge tea-kettles on wheels, but fought ship to ship, and gun to gun, and man to man, and the gallant landsmen with which the French navy was manned had from the first no chance with the hardened tars of England, and Buonaparte knew this, and knew that the fleet, if seen, was destroyed; but he did not hesitate to lay the blame of the disaster on poor Admiral Brueys, who was unable to answer him, for the very good reason that he had died the death of a hero in that magnificent action. Europe would have been saved a good deal of trouble if General Buonaparte had been on board the Orient on that memorable occasion. But his star was true to him, and he had an additional rea

son to believe in his star. The hardships with which the French army had to contend after the disembarkation were very considerable; and the spirit of mutiny was aggravated by the soldiers seeing as yet no way to the realisation of the splendid promises of their commander. Buonaparte bore it all with a patience and resignation worthy of a better cause, for he trusted in the tide soon turning; and in fact the battle of the Pyramids, in which the French lost a very few men, but killed some two thousand Mamelukes, had a wonderful effect in raising the spirits of the army, especially as these strange cavaliers were in the habit of carrying all their property on their persons, in the shape of costly arms or specie. When this first became known, however, a howl of disappointment arose from the French finding that they had driven so many of their valuable enemies into the Nile. But a remedy was soon found. They bent their bayonets into hooks, and attached them to ropes, and for many days the army had all its time employed in fishing up dead Mamelukes; on which Napoleon's Memoirs quietly observe, that "the army began from henceforth to get reconciled to Egypt." The conquest of Egypt was followed by the campaign of Syria, which ended in what was represented by Buonaparte as a "strategical movement," but was really a retreat occasioned by that wonderful and signally successful defence of Acre by Sir Sidney Smith, which, after a long eclipse, was the first gleam of glory that shone on British arms engaged on dry land. Two incidents which occurred during this campaign have contributed as much to blacken the memory of Napoleon as any others in his short but tumultuous life. These were the killing of his Turkish prisoners at Jaffa, and the reputed poisoning of his own plague-stricken soldiers. The first is indisputable as a fact, and

M. Lanfrey considers that it was justified by no military necessity. The second he looks upon as apocryphal, since some of the men alleged to have been poisoned were afterwards found alive by Sir Sidney Smith; but it seems that Buonaparte suggested the advisability of poisoning them to the army-surgeons, who at once, to their honour, refused to entertain the idea. It was not unnatural that the report arose, since at St Helena Napoleon himself argued that the measure would have been justifiable under the circumstances.

After a brilliant land victory at the same Aboukir where the fleet had been lost, Buonaparte thought that he could afford to return to France, and he accordingly stole away from Egypt, leaving his army without a head, to shift for itself as it best could. His star was still in the ascendant, and he ran the gauntlet of the English cruisers successfully. As he had reckoned, things had gone badly during his absence, and even worse than he had hoped. But all was well as long as public opinion only laid the blame on the Directory. To this weight of unpopularity the Directory was forced to bow its head, and the party beaten on the 18th Fructidor began to get the upper hand again, and the 13th Prairial was a sort of coup-d'état, in which the Legislative Body took its revenge on the Directory, and new men came to the helm. The fermentation and confusion of parties at this time was extreme, and those who had no convictions at all but such as corresponded with their interests would manifestly be in a position of great advantage. This was the case with Buonaparte, who was seconded by friends of the same principles, and by members of his own family, who supported him, as he had always fraternally supported them. His arrival in France, while looked upon with suspicion by a few reflecting persons, was regarded by the mass of the people, and by all those who

were wearied with the storms of State, as the advent of a new era of confidence and prosperity. He was as careful of his conduct as before the Egyptian expedition, allowed himself to be seen little in public, declined being exhibited as a lion, affected a republican austerity and simplicity in his ways, and quietly surrounded himself with men on whom he could depend, listening much and talking little, but encouraging others to talk, that he might sound their views, and know to what extent they would be likely to support him. As was natural, he could count most on the chiefs of the army which had served under him. There was a difficulty about Lefebvre, an excellent soldier, with a weak head, who commanded the division of Paris, and swore if necessary to die for the Republic, or exterminate its enemies. Buonaparte thought it unnecessary to open his views to him, calculating that in the surprise of the moment he would be carried away by example. As for the inferior officers, they were taken care of by their chiefs. Murat undertook to deal with the cavalry, Lannes with the infantry, and Marmont with the artillery. Siéyès, who was fully in Buonaparte's confidence, now undertook to get the Councils transferred to St Cloud under the pretext of a Jacobine conspiracy. The Red Spectre was especially formidable so soon after the Reign of Terror, and even yet its influence has not quite worn out. As Buonaparte was to be invested with the command of all the forces, he anticipated his appointment a little, and ordered the generals and superior officers to meet on the 9th November 1799 (the 18th Brumaire) at six o'clock in the morning at his hotel in the Rue de la Victoire. They were all there, and Lefebvre, as was anticipated, was there also, but in no very pliant humour. "Well, Lefebvre," said Buonaparte, "you who are one of the props of the Republic, will you let it perish in the hands of these lawyers?

Come, here is the sabre I carried at the Pyramids; I give it you as a pledge of my esteem and confidence." "Let us throw the lawyers into the river," answered Lefebvre. Paris seemed spell-bound by the audacity of these manœuvres, though all was known and foreseen. The Directory was like a man who had fallen into a trance, having his eyes open. In a short time it found itself in a state of paralysis by the secession of two important members, Siéyès and Ducos. By way of throwing off the mask, Buonaparte now began to hurl reproaches in simulated passion at the head of the helpless Directory, as the cause of all the evil that had come upon France. Some stern Republicans were still incorruptible, but Buonaparte was so little afraid of them, that he refused to fall in with the proposition of Siéyès, who advised him to arrest in the night the more independent members of the two Councils. That so little resistance was encountered was indeed extraordinary, but resistance had literally lost its head. All the men of mark who might have stood in Napoleon's way had been eliminated by repeated proscriptions. The conspiracy appeared likely to be attended with the most signal success, when it was threatened with failure from a most unexpected source, a want of nerve in Buonaparte himself. The great majority of the Council of Five Hundred were Republicans, and now fully alive to the imminence of a Dictatorship. In the afternoon General Buonaparte appeared amongst them, but in a state of agitation which promised ill for the effect of his presence. The speeches which he made were strangely wild and incoherent, and he seemed completely awed by finding himself alone in the midst of hostile faces. He could make out no plausible case for himself, no valid excuse for overthrowing the Constitution. He at last turned on the Assembly with a sort of impotent violence, giving vent to

the wildest reproaches. He then retired, to return again at the head of a party of grenadiers. The Assembly was furious at this infringement of civil rights, and a general cry arose, the cry which had cost Robespierre his supremacy and his life, of "Hors la loi le dictateur!" At this crisis the courage of the intending usurper completely forsook him, and he fell fainting into the arms of his grenadiers, as the indignant members pressed on him and hustled him. A story was afterwards got up that poniards were pointed at him, and a grenadier named Thomas Thomé was rewarded with a kiss and a valuable diamond by la Citoyenne Buonaparte, for saving the life of her husband at the risk of his own. At all events his clothes had been torn in the scuffle. It was fortunate for Buonaparte that the nerves of Siéyès were stronger than those of his principal; he fought his battle stoutly, and said that instead of the General the members themselves ought to be placed out of the pale of the law. But it was to the cool assurance of Lucien Buonaparte that the success of this coup-d'état was mainly due. As president of the Assembly he harangued the hesitating soldiers, and exhorted them to deliver the Five Hundred from a band of assassins in the pay of England. Murat then, profiting by the impression he had produced, led his troops to the charge. They stopt a moment at the door, overawed by the conscious illegality of their proceedings; but the drums drowned the protesting voices of the members, and the hall was cleared. In the evening Lucien admitted thirty of the members whom he had gained, got them to vote themselves the majority, and then to pass a resolution that Buonaparte and his lieutenants had deserved well of their country. A provisional consulship, or triumvirate, was appointed, consisting of Buonaparte, Siéyès, and Roger Ducos, who appear to have