The man turned and stabbed his finger towards the National Assembly. ‘They’ve just released the details of the new constitution.’
‘Oh? And?’
‘It’s a disgrace, that’s what. Those bastards of the Convention are taking seats in the Legislative Assembly. The scum just want to cling on to their jobs.’
Napoleon couldn’t help smiling. ‘What did you expect? They’re politicians.’
The man faced Napoleon and glared.‘That’s as maybe, but the people won’t stand for it.’ He gestured to the surrounding crowd and Napoleon could see that many faces wore expressions of anger and the air was filled with cries of ‘Fraud!’ and ‘Down with the government!’ Some even cried out for the restoration of the monarchy.
The man turned back towards the National Assembly and added his voice to the angry chants. Napoleon glanced over the crowd one last time and then resumed his walk, making his way back to his lodgings with a heavy heart. The new constitution was supposed to restore political order, but the self-interest of the politicians meant that none had lost any power, or their jobs. What had been lost was the chance to unite the country, and Napoleon’s heart filled with contempt for the political class that simply looked to its privileges and its purses and couldn’t give a damn about the rest of the nation.
Over the following days the outrage over the proposed constitution swelled. Large crowds gathered in the streets to protest and at night shots were fired at the National Assembly and the headquarters of the Jacobin and Girondin parties. Fearing for their lives, the deputies granted the leading member of the Committee for Public Safety, Paul Barras, temporary powers to defend the government. And so the entrances to the Tuileries palace were barricaded and manned by troops still loyal to the government.
On the morning of the third day in October Junot shook Napoleon awake.
‘Get dressed. We have to get out of here.’
‘What?’ Napoleon shook his head. ‘Junot, what’s going on?’
‘The royalists.They’re on the move.They have squads of men out on the streets arresting any deputies they can find, and any army officers. They’re already searching the hotels in the next street.’
Napoleon threw back his bedclothes and dressed quickly. He pulled a plain grey coat over his uniform jacket and thought for a moment about taking his sword, then decided against it. If they came across a search party the best thing to do would be to run for it. The sword would only be an encumbrance. Instead, he picked up an old plain coat and tossed it to his friend. ‘Wear that over your jacket.’
Shortly afterwards, the two men left the hotel, cautiously glancing down the narrow street, still gloomy in the thin light of dawn.
‘Where are we going?’ Junot asked.
‘The Tuileries.’
‘Why there? That’s the first place the royalists will attack.We’ll be trapped.’
‘Barras will need every man to defend the government.’
Junot recalled the last days of the monarchy and its futile attempt to defend the palace against the Paris mob. ‘We’ll be slaughtered.’
‘It’s possible,’ Napoleon replied coolly. ‘This is the hour of the republic’s greatest danger. If we lose, then the revolution fails. But if we win, then, my dear Junot, we will be the heroes of the hour and our fortunes will be made.’
As they strode swiftly along the cobbled streets, they heard a sudden crackle of musket fire in the distance. Junot turned to his friend.‘Somehow, I think that the other side has exactly the same thought.’
They avoided the main boulevards as they hurried towards the Tuileries, while the sounds of musket fire became more general, accompanied by distant shouts. At last they reached the edge of the square called the Carrousel in front of the grand gates of the palace. Several wagons had been dragged into the square and overturned and armed men took cover behind them, keeping watch on the government troops defending the palace.
‘Damn,’ Napoleon muttered. ‘We’ll have to try another approach closer to the gates.’
Beside him Junot looked out over the square. ‘We’ll still have to cross the open ground.’
‘Of course, but the range is long. They’ll never hit us, even if they do shoot.’
‘Really? That’s a comfort.’
‘Come on, Junot!’ Napoleon punched his shoulder. ‘Where’s that spirit you showed at Toulon? We’ll be safe enough, provided we can find a way through.’
They retreated down the street and picked a narrow alley running closer to the palace. It was still very early and only the rebels had taken to the streets. Most of the Parisians remained in their homes, and prayed that the trouble would not come close to their door. At length the two officers found a narrow passage cutting between two tenements. At the far end the Carrousel lay clearly visible, with the gates of the palace a hundred paces beyond. Napoleon crept to the end of the passage, with Junot close behind. Then they crouched down and Napoleon took a deep breath. ‘Ready?’
Junot nodded.
They burst from cover and sprinted across the cobblestones towards the gates. For a few seconds no one seemed to have noticed them. Then there was a shout from one of the men sheltering behind the nearest wagon.
‘You there! Stop!’
As they kept running Napoleon saw some of the soldiers on the gates raise their heads to look in their direction.Then one of them snatched up his musket, snapped the cock back and took aim. There was a flash and a puff of smoke, followed by a loud crack and the high-pitched whirr as the ball passed close overhead.
‘Don’t fire!’ Napoleon cried out. ‘We’re army officers!’
But his shouts were lost in the confusion of other voices as the royalists rose up and hurled insults at them. Another shot was fired, low, ricocheting off the stones between Napoleon and Junot. At once, Napoleon tore at the buttons of his coat as he ran and then shivered free of the coat to expose his uniform jacket. ‘Don’t fire!’
To his relief the soldiers lowered their weapons. Then the sound of further shots filled the air and he turned and saw that some of the royalists were attempting to shoot the officers down before they reached the safety of the palace gates.
The soldiers began to provide some covering fire, and Napoleon and Junot sprinted for the army barricades as musket balls cracked off the ground and cut through the air like angry hornets. Then they were at the gates and desperately scrambling over the line of barrels and meal bags that formed the barricade. They rolled over the top and dropped down on the far side, breathless. A sergeant scurried along the line of the barricade towards them. ‘Who the hell are you?’
‘Brigadier Bonaparte and Lieutenant Junot. We’re here to help.’
‘Help?’ The sergeant frowned. ‘Then you could have brought some men with you, sir. A battalion or two of line infantry wouldn’t go amiss.’
‘Sorry.’ Napoleon smiled grimly. ‘We’re all there is.’
‘Pity.’
‘Where is Paul Barras?’
‘Barras?’The sergeant turned and pointed towards the old royal quarters in the centre of the Tuileries. ‘In there, with the other officers, sir.’
‘Fine. Come on, Junot.’
Keeping low, they hurried across the courtyard and up the steps to the main entrance. Behind them the exchange of musket fire kept going a moment longer and then eased off into the odd desultory shot. Inside the palace a young orderly escorted them up the grand staircase to the first floor suite that Barras had chosen for his headquarters. The door was open and the two officers strode in. It was a large chamber, decorated with gilt and fine wallpaper. Little of the original furnishings had survived the mob’s assault on the royal palace a few years earlier and Barras sat at a plain desk. Around him stood or sat several officers, only one of whom Napoleon recognised, and his heart sank.
‘That’s General Carteaux,’ Junot whispered.
Napoleon nodded. The last time they had met, Carteaux had been commanding the army laying siege to Toulon - until the Committee of Public Safety had relieved him of the post for his complete incompetence. Napoleon turned his gaze towards Barras as the latter stood to greet the new arrivals.
