A few days before the 18th Brumaire, Bonaparte happened to be at the estate of his brother Joseph, at Mortefontaine. Being anxious for a free discussion with Regnault de Saint Jean d'Angely, of the events that were preparing, he proposed to him that they should take a ride together. As the two men were galloping wildly by the ponds, over the rocks, Bonaparte's horse stumbled on a stone hidden in the sand and threw the general off with some violence to a distance of twelve or fifteen feet. Regnault sprang from his horse and ran up to him, finding him senseless: his pulse was imperceptible; he did not breathe; he thought him dead. It was a false alarm. In a few minutes Bonaparte came to himself, with no bones broken, no scratch, no bruise, and mounted his horse.

"Oh, General," exclaimed his companion, "what a fright you gave me!" and Bonaparte said, "That was a little stone on which all our plans came near shattering." It was true; that pebble might have changed the fate of the world.

The conspiracy was organized, and the end was approaching. Bonaparte, who was a conspirator as well as a soldier, prepared it with thoroughly Italian subtlety and wiliness. With consummate skill he anticipated public opinions, while pretending aversion to the coup d'etat which was his heart's desire. For several days the officers in Paris had been trying to get an opportunity to present their respects, but he had not consented to see them. The officers complained, and the public began to say, "He won't do any more than he did after his return from Italy. Who will help us out of the mire?"

To the end he haunted Republican society. Josephine and he were untiring in their attentions to Gohier and his wife. At the same time he understood how to call up memories of the Terror, to impress men's imaginations, and to evoke the red spectre which always made the blood of the middle classes run cold.

As Edgar Quinet has put it, the 18th Brumaire was to be a union of fear and glory. Every one was anxious and in terror of worse things yet, of riots, proscriptions, the guillotine, and sure that no one but Bonaparte could prevent the return of 1793. He was entreated to take some step, and when he complied, he seemed to be yielding to popular clamor. The coup d'itat was in the air. Everywhere Bonaparte found allies and accomplices. To secure general approval only one thing was wanted -- success.

The 15th Brumaire (the final plan of the conspiracy was to be determined on that day), Bonaparte was present at a subscription dinner given him by five or six hundred members of the two Councils.

"Never at a civic banquet," says Gohier in his memoirs, "was there less expression given to Republican sentiments." There was no gaiety, no mutual congratulations. The dinner was given in the Temple of Victory, otherwise known as the Church of Saint Sulpice. It seemed as if no one dared to speak aloud in the sanctuary, and as if every one were oppressed by some gloomy foreboding. Every one was watching and knowing that he was watched. Bonaparte, who sat at the right hand of Gohier, the President of the Directory, appeared out of spirits and ill at ease. He partook of nothing but bread and wine brought to him by his aide-de-camp. Was he afraid of poison?

The official toasts, proposed without enthusiasm, were drunk coolly. Bonaparte did not even stay till the end of the dinner; he suddenly rose from the table, walked about, uttering a few hasty words to the principal guests, and went away.

Arnault describes that evening at the general's house. Josephine did the honors of her drawing-room with even more than her usual grace. Men of all parties were gathered there, generals, deputies, Royalists, Jacobins, abbes, a minister, and even the President of the Directory. From the lordly air of the master of the house, it seemed as if already he felt himself to be a monarch surrounded by his court. Minister Fouche arrived and sat down on the sofa by Madame Bonaparte's side.

Gohier. What's the news, Citizen Minister?
Fouche. The news? Oh, nothing.
Gohier. But besides that?
Fouche. Always the same idle rumors.
Gohier. What?
Fouche. The same old conspiracy.
Gohier (shrugging his shoulders). The conspiracy!
Fouche. Yes, the conspiracy! But I know how to treat that. I thoroughly understand it, Citizen Director; have confidence in me; I am not going to be caught. If there had been a conspiracy all the time it's been talked of, would there not be some signs of it in the Place de la Revolution or in the plain of Grenelle? [At these words Fouche burst out laughing.]
Madame Bonaparte. For shame, Citizen Fouche! Can you laugh at such things?
Gohier. The Minister speaks like a man who understands his business. But calm yourself, Citizeness; to talk about such things before ladies is to think they will not have to be done. Act like the government; do not be uneasy at those rumors. Sleep quietly."

Bonaparte listened with a smile.

The evening passed as usual; there was no excitement, no uneasiness on any one's face. Her drawing-room gradually emptied. Fouche and Gohier took leave of Josephine, who withdrew to her own room. Arnault stayed to the last and had this conversation with Bonaparte.

"General, I have come to know if to-morrow is still the day, and to get your instructions."

"It's put off till the 18th."

"Till the 18th?"

"The 18th."

"When it has got out? Don't you notice how every one is talking about it?"

"Everybody is talking about it, but no one believes in it. Besides, there is a reason. Those imbeciles of the Council of the Ancients have scruples. They have begged for twenty-four hours for reflection."

"And you have granted them?"

"What's the harm? I give them time to convince themselves that I can do without them what I wish to do with them. To the 18th, then. Come in and drink a cup of tea to-morrow; if there is any change, I'll let you know. Good night."

Two days were not too many for the final preparations. "Josephine was in the secret," says General de Segur. "Nothing was concealed from her. In every conference at which she was present her discretion, her gentleness, her grace, and the ready ingenuity of her delicate and cool intelligence were of great service. She justified Bonaparte's renewed confidence in her."

The 16th and 17th, Bonaparte and his adherents completed the elaboration of their programme, which was simple and ingenious. A provision of the Constitution, that of the Year III, authorized the Council of Ancients, in case of peril for the Republic, to convoke the Legislative Body (the Council of Ancients and the Council of Five Hundred) outside of the capital, to preserve it from the influence of the multitude, and to choose a general to command the troops destined to defend the legislature. The Constitution also provided that from the moment when this change of the place of meeting was voted by the Council of Ancients, all discussion on the part of the two councils was forbidden until the change was made. This was the cornerstone on which the conspiracy was to build. The alleged public peril was a so-called Jacobin conspiracy, which, according to Bonaparte's partisans, threatened the Legislative Body.

The 18th Brumaire was set for the day when the Council of Ancients should vote to change the place of meeting to Saint Cloud, and Bonaparte should be assigned the command of the troops. The Council was to be convoked at the Tuileries, where it always met, at eight in the morning; some one should take the floor and enlarge on the perils of the so-called Jacobin plot, and, the vote to change the place of meeting once carried, the Council of Five Hundred, which did not meet till eleven, would have to submit in silence.

But how collect the troops about Bonaparte in the morning before the vote was taken? and to succeed, he needed their presence at the very beginning. The 17th Division, with its headquarters in Paris, was not under his orders. He was not Minister of War, and had no command. How was it possible, without exciting suspicion, to assemble, under the very eyes of the government, the forces that were about to overthrow it? What pretext could be devised for gathering a staff in the house in the rue de la Victoire, and regiments about the Tuileries?

For many days the officers of the Army of Paris and the National Guard had been desirous of presenting their respects to General Bonaparte. It was decided that he should receive them at his house, at six in the morning, the 18th Brumaire; and this untimely hour was accounted for by a journey on which it was pretended that the general was about to depart.

Three regiments of cavalry had sought the honor of riding by him. Word was sent that he would receive them at seven o'clock in the morning of the same day. To go from the rue de la Victoire to the Tuileries he needed a cavalry escort; word was sent to one of his most devoted adherents, a Corsican, Colonel Sebastiani, who was invited to be on horseback at five in the morning, with two hundred dragoons of his regiment, the 9th. Sebastiani, without waiting for orders from his superiors, at once accepted this mission. With a brilliant staff of generals and mounted officers, preceded and followed by an escort of dragoons, Bonaparte would ride in the morning to the Tuileries at the very moment that the change of the place of meeting should have been voted by the Council of Ancients; be would receive command of the garrison of Paris and its suburbs, and be ordered to protect the two Councils, who should sit the next day, the 19th, at Saint Cloud. In the course of the 18th Barras would be persuaded to hand in his resignation. This, following close on the heels of the resignation of Sieyes and Roger-Ducos, would disorganize the Directory, which, consisting of but two members, Moulins and Gohier, would be kept under guard at the Luxembourg by General Moreau, and would give way to a new government, which had its constitution all ready, with Napoleon for its head. It was hoped that the Council of Five Hundred would not oppose their plans, and that the revolution, which assumed an appearance of legality, would be accomplished without violence. In any case, Bonaparte would go on to the end. If the Five Hundred refused their approval, he resolved to proceed without it. The snares were set. The legislature was to fall into them. Every preparation had been made. The conspirators bade one another farewell till the morrow.