Chapter 61
Paris, 1792
From the moment he arrived in the capital at the end of May Napoleon was astonished by the changes a mere year and a half had wrought on the city at the heart of the revolution. Realising that other nations would not permit France to adopt full-blooded democracy, the National Assembly had declared war on Austria in April. Before the month was out the army of General Dillon had been routed and the volunteer soldiers had murdered their general as they fled from the battlefield. As the coach had carried Napoleon by stages from Marseilles he had read news of further defeats, and the tense atmosphere in Paris was immediately apparent to him. As he headed towards the Pays Normande Napoleon stopped to read some of the posters that adorned every street corner. Most carried news of the latest regulations passed by the local commune. Others gave reports of the debates in the National Assembly. In every street men were hawking newspapers, and small crowds clustered round to read the latest news of the war. The last time Napoleon had been in Paris there had been only a handful of heavily censored newspapers, but now there were scores of publications, openly speaking for almost every political point of view – even for the rump of monarchists still struggling to persuade Parisians to return to the order of the old regime.
When he reached the hotel Napoleon discovered that the room rates had more than doubled since his last stay, and that no rooms were available. The owner explained that the deputies of the new National Assembly and their families and supporters had taken over most of the hotels in the city and there was a chronic shortage of accommodation. He suggested that Napoleon might like to try Monsieur Perronet on Rue de Mail, who was a friend and occasionally let rooms in his house to people who came on recommendation.
The Perronet residence was just off the Rue Saint-Honore, close to the Palais-Royal and the Tuileries. Monsieur Perronet was an engineer and kept an ordered house. He glanced through the note of recommendation, looked the young artillery officer over and beckoned him inside. The room he let to Napoleon was in the attic. It was small and comfortable, and the window looked over the rooftops towards the complex of palaces that made up the Tuileries.
Perronet nodded towards the window. 'If you listen carefully you might just hear the baying of wolves from time to time.That, or the members of the Assembly screaming for each other's blood.'
Napoleon smiled. 'Has it come to that?'
'Not yet, but it will.'The engineer shrugged wearily. 'The war is going badly, the price of bread is up and the mob is hungry to find someone – anyone – to blame for it all. So, citizen, you have chosen a fine time to visit Paris. Before I let the room to you, I have to ask something.' He looked embarrassed for a moment, and Napoleon gestured for him to continue. Perronet pursed his lips. 'Are you here to defend the King, or to oppose him? It's just that if you get involved in any trouble, I don't want the mob coming to my house looking for you. I have a young family, you understand. I have to make sure they are safe.'
'I'm not here to defend the King. I'm here to defend myself, Citizen Perronet. I give you my word, there'll be no trouble on my account.'
'Very well, you can have the room. Five sous a day. Ten if you want to be fed.'
'I'll just have the room, citizen.' Napoleon took out his money pouch, counted out enough for the first month and handed it over. He would have to be careful with the limited funds he had brought with him from Corsica. He would eat only when it was necessary. Monsieur Perronet counted the coins quickly, nodded, and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.
As the engineer's footsteps descended the steep creaking staircase Napoleon went over to the window. He stood leaning his elbows on the sill, and stared out across the grimy walls and roofs of the French capital. The spectacle of a great city spreading out on all sides towards a hazy horizon filled him with excitement for a moment before his mind turned once more to the anxiety and uncertainty over his fate.
The debacle in Ajaccio might well cost him his career in the army. It might even cost him his life, and Napoleon wondered if he should have run off and hidden in the Corsican maquis as his mother had advised. He could easily have survived for years living up in the mountains far beyond the reach of the law. But his every instinct revolted against the idea. Here in Paris, far from the scene of the crime, his word could be just as effective as that of those who sought his prosecution.
When he had arrived in Marseilles, Napoleon had received notification that it might be some months before his case was dealt with, thanks to the outbreak of war. That gave him a little time to try to exert some influence over the outcome. And the best place to start would be to petition the foremost deputy from Corsica, Antoine Saliceti. According to the posters on the street corners, Saliceti was to speak in favour of a proposal to disband the King's household guards the next day.
Accordingly, the morning after his arrival, Napoleon woke early and polished his boots. He combed out his hair and tied it back neatly before putting on his uniform.
A short walk down the street brought Napoleon to the wide thoroughfare of the Rue Saint-Honore where he joined the crowd that was heading towards the Tuileries to watch the debates of the National Assembly. Some of them had come to petition the deputies, others simply wished to be part of the mob outside the palace where the King and his family were virtually being held prisoners. Still more were taking fruit, wine and newspapers to sell to the crowd. Among the last group were traders selling revolutionary cockades, patriotic red bonnets and carved chunks of stone purporting to be from the remains of the Bastille. Although many of the people seemed high-spirited enough Napoleon sensed a tension running through them like an over-tightened violin string; waiting to snap the instant it was put under any strain. He walked with the crowd as far as the Palais-Royal and then turned off the boulevard and headed down towards the Place du Carousel. The opposite side of the square was filled with a crowd of people shouting abuse through the iron railings that ran along the front of the royal quarters of the Tuileries Palace. On the far side of the railings stood a thin line of red-coated Swiss Guards, their black bearskin hats making them seem tall and formidable as they watched the mob. Napoleon skirted round them and hurried to the riding school where the National Assembly was housed. He was anxious to arrive in good time so that he could observe Saliceti and see what kind of man he was before approaching him for help.
As he turned the corner and strode down the Terrasse des Feuillants, Napoleon was confronted by a large crowd at the entrance to the National Assembly. Scores of men from the National Guard formed a cordon and cleared a path for deputies and their officials as they made their way in for the morning session. A small side entrance provided access to the public galleries, and Napoleon shoved through the crowd towards the sergeant in charge of admission.
'Excuse me!' Napoleon pushed past a heavily made-up woman who was screeching at the top of her voice that she had been promised a seat by one of her clients amongst the deputies.
The sergeant shook his head. 'Sorry, lady, I don't care who you're screwing. All the free seats have gone. Now unless you have a pass there's nothing I can do.'
'Pass? I don't need a pass, you moron.' She prodded him in the chest with the tip of her parasol. 'Let me through!'
The sergeant batted the parasol aside and lunged at her with both hands.The woman fell back into the crowd with a shriek of panic and rage while everyone around her burst into laughter. Napoleon took advantage of the moment and thrust himself in front of the sergeant.