The Eve of the Reign of Terror
(1792-1793)
Paris was in a ferment. The King had to be guarded by a double cordon
of soldiers, so bitter was the animosity against the Royal Family
and all that it stood for. With his usual shrewdness and faculty for
penetrating into the probabilities of the future, Napoleon correctly
anticipated events, and wrote to his brother Joseph that “everything
tends to a revolution.” On the 20th June 1792, a wild procession of
insurrectionists, accompanied by cannon, made its way to the Tuileries,
and intimidated the Guard. The latter opened the gates of the courtyard
and the motley mob crowded into the beautiful palace, openly insulting
King Louis and Queen Marie Antoinette. A republican Assembly had been
forced upon the monarch, who was duly reaping the first-fruits of the
harvest. Bourrienne gives a graphic account of what happened and how
it affected the ardent politician of twenty-three. Napoleon’s remarks
clearly show that he had no belief in the aspirations of the rebels,
notwithstanding his own ardent republicanism. Throughout his life he
always held the _canaille_ in profound contempt.
“We met,” Bourrienne tells us, “by appointment, at a _restaurateur’s_
in the Rue St Honoré, near the Palais Royal. On going out we saw a mob
approaching in the direction of the market-place, which Bonaparte
estimated at from five to six thousand men. They were a parcel of
blackguards, armed with weapons of every description, and shouting
the grossest abuse, whilst they proceeded at a rapid rate towards
the Tuileries. This mob appeared to consist of the vilest and most
profligate of the population of the suburbs. ‘Let us follow the
rabble,’ said Bonaparte. We got the start of them, and took up our
station on the terrace bordering the river. It was there that he was
an eye-witness of the scandalous scenes that ensued; and it would be
difficult to describe the surprise and indignation which they excited
in him. ‘Such weakness and forbearance,’ he said, ‘could not be
excused’; but when the King showed himself at a window which looked
out upon the garden, with the red cap, which one of the mob had just
placed upon his head, he could no longer repress his indignation: ‘What
madness!’ he loudly exclaimed, ‘how could they allow that rabble to
enter? Why do they not sweep away four or five hundred of them with the
cannon? and then the rest would take themselves off very quickly.’ When
we sat down to dinner, he discussed with great good sense the causes
and consequences of this unrepressed insurrection. He foresaw, and
developed with sagacity, all that would follow; and in this he was not
mistaken.”
In a letter to Joseph written on the 3rd July, Napoleon again reveals
himself as a philosopher. “Every one seeks his own interest,” he
says, “and wishes to rise by means of lying and calumny; men intrigue
more contemptibly than ever. All that destroys ambition. One pities
those who have the misfortune to play a part, especially when they
can do without it. To live quietly, to enjoy the love of one’s family
surroundings--that, my dear fellow, if one had 4000 or 5000 francs a
year, would be the wise thing to do. One should also be between the
ages of twenty-five and forty, when one’s imagination has calmed down,
and is no longer troublesome. I embrace you, and recommend to you
moderation in everything--in everything, do you understand?--if you
wish to live happily.”
A week later Napoleon received a welcome letter from the Minister of
War appointing him Captain of the 4th regiment of artillery, and his
arrears of pay were also sent. Life seemed to be worth living once
more. Promotion is a fine antidote against depression.
It soon became evident that nothing short of civil warfare would
satisfy the rioters, and on the 10th August 1792, the long pent-up
storm burst with awful fury. The King, Queen, and other members of
the royal family made their way to the Assembly, or Parliament, where
they sat in a reporter’s box listening to a debate as to whether Louis
should be deposed or suspended, and which ended in a unanimous vote
for the latter course. Meanwhile the mob was quickly gathering, a
dozen pieces of artillery were drawn up, and the insurgents assumed a
threatening attitude. Many of the Swiss and National Guards, whose duty
it was to defend the Tuileries, found it necessary in the face of such
overwhelming numbers to withdraw into the palace. Firing commenced,
and for a time the royalists triumphed. Probably the crowd would have
thinned away had not a foolish message arrived from Louis to the effect
that the Swiss were to withdraw to their barracks. While this was
being done the rioters rushed into the palace and in their mad frenzy
slaughtered indiscriminately nearly every male attendant to be found,
shooting wildly at the body-guard as they retreated. Another order
came from the King that the Swiss were to lay down their arms. This the
brave fellows did, although they knew what might happen. Those who were
not killed by the mob were taken prisoners and put in the Church of the
_Feuillants_, and on the following day many of them were mercilessly
massacred. Those of my readers who have been to Lucerne have doubtless
seen the noble monument in bas-relief of a dying lion erected to
the memory of the brave Swiss. Napoleon himself saved one of the
body-guard, and asserted that “If Louis XVI. had mounted his horse, the
victory would have been his--so I judge from the spirit which prevailed
in the morning.” He always believed in a bold front; the King’s action
was an unmistakable sign of weakness.
Years after at St Helena Napoleon related the events of the fatal day
as he watched them from a furniture shop belonging to Bourrienne’s
brother, Fauvelet. “Before I arrived at the Carrousel,” he says, “I
had been met in the Rue des Petits Champs by a group of hideous men
carrying a head on the end of a pike. Seeing me well dressed, and
looking like a gentleman, they came to me to make me cry, ‘_Vive la
Nation!_’ which I did without difficulty, as you may believe. The
_château_ was attacked by the violent mob. The King had for his defence
at least as many troops as the Convention had on Vendémiaire 13th, when
they had to fight against a better-disciplined and more formidable
enemy.[1] The greater part of the National Guard was on the side of
the King--one must do them this justice. When the palace had been
fired, and the King had taken refuge in the bosom of the Assembly, I
ventured to penetrate into the garden. Never since have any of my
battle-fields given me such an idea of death as the mass of the Swiss
corpses then presented to me, whether the smallness of the space made
the number appear larger, or whether it was because I was to undergo
this experience for the first time.... I visited all the _cafés_ in the
neighbourhood of the Assembly; everywhere the irritation was extreme,
rage was in every heart, it showed itself in all faces, although the
people present were not by any means of the lower class, and all these
places must have been daily frequented by the same customers, for
although I had nothing peculiar in my dress--but perhaps my countenance
was more calm--it was easy to see that I excited many looks of
hostility and defiance as being unknown and a suspect.”
[1] 5th October, 1795.--See _post_, chapter vii. p. 71.
August 1792 was indeed a month of events fraught with far-reaching
consequences. The decree went forth that all religious houses should
be confiscated and sold. Along with the death-knell of royalty was
sounded that of religion. Élise, the most determined and resolute
of Napoleon’s three sisters, was then at the College of St Cyr, and
he felt it would not be safe for her to stay in France a single
moment longer than was absolutely necessary. He still put family
ties before patriotism; in reality each is part and parcel of the
other. His position was difficult, for it would have been foolish to
have jeopardised his captaincy, but he thought he saw a way out, and
applied for a commission which would insure his going to Corsica,
which was not granted. A petition to the Directory of the district
of Versailles, requesting that he be allowed to accompany Élise, met
with a more favourable response. On the 1st September, the day before
the revolutionary Commune of Paris began the massacre of hundreds
of citizens because they did not happen to sympathise fully with the
Revolution, Napoleon conducted his sister from St Cyr. In October they
were in their native town once more, Napoleon resuming his duties as
second lieutenant-colonel of the volunteers.
The island of Sardinia, which is separated from Corsica by the
Strait of Bonifacio and now belongs to Italy, had cherished dreams
of declaring her independence. It was therefore determined that
Admiral Truguet and a number of troops and volunteers should sail
from Marseilles, call at Ajaccio for additional men, and under the
command of Raffaelle Casabianca, endeavour to assist the rebellious
islanders. Almost as soon as they had landed in Corsica there was
trouble between the sailors and the unruly volunteers, three of the
latter being hanged in consequence. Paoli, now President of the
Administration and Commander-in-Chief of the National Guards, felt
that this was indeed a sorry prelude to an expedition in which loyal
co-operation was an absolute essential. The aged patriot therefore
wisely decided that only regular troops should be sent. Cagliari, the
capital of the island, was deemed the most important point of attack;
San Stefano was to be occupied by a second division under the command
of Colonel Cesari-Colonna, Paoli’s nephew, and accompanied by Napoleon.
The attempt on the first place failed miserably owing to a want of
confidence on the part of the besiegers, and the troops at San Stefano
accomplished little. They certainly effected a landing, and on the
night of the 23rd February, 1793, Napoleon and his men hastily erected
a battery, from which point of vantage they proceeded to bombard
Maddalena. On the following evening, however, the troops showed that
they had no more heart for warfare than their compatriots at Cagliari,
and a retreat became absolutely necessary. For this Napoleon is in no
way to be blamed. There is more than a suspicion of treachery, and
it has been suggested that either Paoli or some of his followers had
arranged that the expedition should fail in order to humble the too
enterprising and over-confident Bonaparte, who was nearly left behind
in a disgraceful struggle to get into the boats.
Napoleon’s dream of a free Corsica had long since passed away; he
was convinced that without France she might fall a prey to any Power
or bold maritime adventurer who cared to risk the attempt upon her.
Relations between him and Paoli became more and more strained. Probably
he felt in his own mind that the dictator’s cause was hopeless, and
consequently offered no advantages. France on the other hand, appeared
likely to become all-powerful. She seemingly stopped at nothing, and
was as bent on “setting Europe to rights” in her fashion as was Pitt
in his. But what was of more immediate importance was the startling
and unexpected intelligence that the Convention had ordered Paoli’s
arrest, as well as that of Pozzo, his right-hand man. The author of
this ill-service was none other than Lucien Bonaparte, who had acted as
Paoli’s secretary for several months and was now in France occupying
his leisure moments in securing the downfall of the patriot by
denouncing him to the authorities at Toulon. This conduct can only be
described as infamous, and goes to prove that a keen sense of morality
was not a conspicuous trait of the Bonaparte family. Lucien had not
taken his brother into his confidence, and no one was more astonished
than Napoleon when the truth of the matter was revealed to him. The
net result was to embroil more deeply the island in a civil war which
had been carried on in a desultory kind of way for some time, breaking
out into flame here and there, and dying down almost as speedily.
We now catch a glimpse of Napoleon as a diplomatist. He sent a
communication to the Convention glowing with fulsome flattery and
pleading that “the patriarch of liberty, and the precursor of the
French Republic,” might be spared this last ignominy. The young officer
was playing a double part. With Salicetti he planned to secure the
citadel of Ajaccio by artifice, but without success. He then decided to
tramp to Bastia, where the French Commissioners were investigating the
condition of affairs and making preparations for resistance against the
islanders. Here he hoped to meet Joseph, who had also attached himself
to the French cause. One cannot but admire the dogged determination
which prompted such a proceeding. His precept that “It is only by
perseverance and tenaciousness that any object can be obtained,” was
not a mere moral maxim, a passing thought to be dismissed as casually
as it had entered the brain.
Napoleon’s journey across the island was quite an adventurous one.
Accompanied only by a poor but sagacious shepherd he traversed rugged
ravines and valleys, every recess of which was dangerous and might
shelter a band of Paolists. In passing through the village of Bocognano
he fell into the hands of the enemy and was locked up in what was
considered a safe place. But under cover of night, and by the aid of
friends, he effected his escape through a window, and the whole of
the following day he was forced to conceal himself in a garden. From
this unhappy and insecure hiding-place he made his way to the house
of a cousin, but on the evening of his third day there a Nationalist
brigadier entered and demanded to search the place. Good fortune again
attended the fugitive. The unwelcome visitor was cajoled into a belief
that Napoleon, against whom an order for arrest had now been issued,
had neither been seen nor heard of in that quarter, and he did not
persist in his demand. Shortly after he had left the house he was
followed by the refugee, who had been sitting in another room with the
servants, all of whom were sufficiently well armed to offer a desperate
resistance if necessary.
A ship was riding at anchor awaiting him, and, stealthily finding his
way to the dinghy on the beach, Napoleon was quickly on board. It was a
case of touch and go, for the Nationalists would not have allowed him
to escape from their hands a second time.
Eventually he reached Bastia, and made such a good impression on the
Commissioners that a naval expedition against Ajaccio was fitted out
and he was given command of the artillery. A week later the little
band of some four hundred men sighted the harbour. The attempt to make
the patriotic citizens surrender was a complete fiasco, for while
Lacombe Saint Michel, Salicetti, Napoleon, and Joseph were joined
by a few dozen soldiers and citizens, Paoli was being reinforced by
people from all over the island. The men were disembarked, captured a
fortress known as the Torre di Capitello, which they soon evacuated,
and returned. Another failure had been added to Napoleon’s record. The
Bonaparte family paid dearly for the part they played at this time.
Their enemies, and they were many, wrecked Madame Letizia’s house.
Fortunately her resourceful son had foreseen such an event, and
not only warned his mother but arranged for her escape. She and her
children were thus enabled to leave the place before the angry Paolists
set about their work of destruction, and after a long tramp were taken
to Calvi by sea. Eight days after their arrival a small merchant vessel
was chartered for a voyage to Toulon, and late on the night of the 11th
June 1793, the dispossessed family, including Napoleon, sailed in the
direction of France and of Fortune.