The artillery captain’s sense of loss was sothing André had engineered on purpose. The Army of the North was already overflowing with talent and future generals, including Moncey, Hoche, Moreau, Masséna, Davout, Augereau, Lefebvre, Berthier, Dumas, Suchet, Macdonald, Senarmont, Laclos, Nansouty, Chassé, Brune, Oudinot, Morand, Saint-Cyr (Haiti), Gudin, Friant, and others. These n were either the Republic’s finest commanders or, in another tiline, the natural candidates for the Empire’s marshalate.
Therefore, André had no need to recruit the future Napoleon I as a decorative figurehead. Moreover, Chief Javert, who oversaw Paris intelligence, gave the artillery captain this assessnt: Napoleon was undeniably gifted, resolute, and ambitious, but also proud to the point of isolation, contemptuous of authority, unwilling to obey superior orders, and incapable of remaining long beneath another man’s command.
For that reason, André ultimately abandoned any further attempt to draw Napoleon in. At the sa ti, he did worry that without the Corsican artillery captain, Toulon might not be recovered as smoothly in the future; and compared with the northern front that André had cultivated with such care, France’s southern and eastern theaters needed first-rate commanders even more.
When lunch drew to a close, André handed Napoleon a letter of introduction. Written in André’s dual capacity as executive secretary of the Legislative Assembly’s military committee and as the rotating presiding officer, it was addressed to General Montesquiou-Fézensac, commander of the Army of the Alps, asking that he treat the exceptionally talented young officer well.
“I advise you to leave Paris with your sister before tomorrow night. The capital will not be calm in this period. If you have any requests in the future, you may write directly to the Army of the North’s headquarters.”
Before they parted, André reminded Napoleon more than once and waved him off. In addition to the customary gift of two thousand livres, he also gave Napoleon—who loved reading—several books: travel journals written by European explorers who had journeyed through North Africa, Egypt, the Middle East, and India.
…
After enduring several days as rotating presiding officer, André took one day of sick leave on August ninth. The four secretaries in the debate hall were long accustod to such things; every rotating presiding officer, without exception, suffered through this “terrible and unfortunate” ordeal.
He chose to recover at ho for two reasons. First, he wanted his mind—made dull by endless shouting—to regain clarity in a quiet setting. Second, he was waiting for the final round of talks, through interdiaries, with Brissot’s side and with the Robespierre–Danton faction, to settle the plan for controlling Paris and for taking the Tuileries by force.
In fact, those present at the eting were aides and adjutants from each Jacobin camp. To avoid attention, Brissot, Robespierre, and André did not attend in person. As for Danton, he had returned to his hotown of Arcis three days earlier and stayed there until the early morning of August eighth.
As in the historical record, the date of the uprising was ultimately set for late on the night of August ninth. To compensate for the inadequate armant of the district spear units, André secretly signed an order: the Joint Military Operations Committee—ford by the allied provincial contingents—would dispatch two thousand regular troops as fire support for the Paris militia, each man carrying a standard rifle with thirty rounds of ammunition. This force included 517 n from Marseille and twelve cannon.
As for André’s elite gendarrie, more than two hundred were assigned to guard the villa on the Île Saint-Louis and André’s secret escape route along the Seine; the remaining three hundred had already been deployed in and around the Manège Hall. The deputies showed not the slightest resentnt at this. On the contrary, they were deeply grateful to the rotating presiding officer. Even if the world collapsed tomorrow, at least the interior of the assembly would be absolutely secure: no blind mob would dare disturb the inviolable security zone marked out by General André.
By the morning of August ninth, under constant agitation by the Jacobins and other radical groups, delegates from forty-seven of Paris’s forty-eight sections were openly demanding the deposition of the King and the refusal to recognize Louis XVI. Danton, having returned to Paris from Arcis and settled his wife and children, imdiately hurried to the Paris Commune’s central committee. The broad-shouldered Champenois thundered to the assembly that the bell of revolution would ring tonight.
From the afternoon of August ninth onward, Paris beca a kicked beehive. After finishing a conversation with Robespierre, Danton led Desmoulins, Fréron, and others to the Faubourg Saint-Antoine to et Santerre, who had been dismissed by the National Guard. Santerre stated plainly that he would provide two thousand regular troops and twelve cannon to support the Cordeliers’ force of twenty thousand spear-n in an assault on the Tuileries.
Yesterday afternoon, at the nomination of General André, the Joint Military Operations Committee appointed Colonel Santerre to command the two thousand volunteers and, as a bonus, raised him to brigadier general. Strictly speaking, this new general’s rank was irregular; only the Legislative Assembly or the War Ministry could sign a lawful promotion. But André had assured him that he would personally endorse it in the Legislative Assembly on August tenth.
anwhile, the Tuileries was making its final defensive preparations. Loyalist forces gathered in the Carrousel square: more than three thousand Paris National Guards, nearly one thousand Swiss rcenaries, over five hundred ard courtiers, and a small number of police and gendars, for a total of 4,800 n. At the request of General Mandat, commander of the Paris National Guard, the defenders also positioned more than ten cannon at the palace entrances and along the bridges connecting to the gardens.
At this ti, Danton worked like a tireless bee, shuttling and persuading on both banks of the Seine. When night fell, the de facto leader of the new Paris Commune made his way again to André’s residence on the Île Saint-Louis.
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In the villa’s small dining room, André had the steward bring out a freshly roasted whole chicken at once; fragrant bread and good Champagne, of course, were indispensable. As usual, no servants were kept nearby to stand, pour, and hover.
“Hm—why aren’t you eating?” Danton suddenly looked up. He still had half a drumstick in his mouth, and his words ca out thick and indistinct.
André chuckled. “An hour ago I had afternoon tea at Roland’s. I must admit that Manon—Mada Roland—makes excellent pastries. I ate more than I should have, and my stomach is still heavy.” Seeing that Danton’s plate was nearly empty, André pushed his own portion of chicken toward his fellow Champenois.
Danton laughed, picked the bones from his mouth, then grabbed a brimming glass of Champagne with his greasy hand and drank deeply.
“Do you know what I saw today? Robespierre sent people to ask about the preparations three tis. I suspect he has been hiding in a carpenter’s cellar since last night and will not dare step outside for the next forty-eight hours. Brissot is just as nervous—he plans to work through the night inside the Legislative Assembly under layers of protection. Only you, André, and I—both of us—keep the sa calm face, as if we have no worry at all about tonight.”
André rely smiled and said nothing. Danton had not expected the truth at once, so he continued.
“In fact, we all know the reality. With the strength you already possess, you could take the Tuileries and then seize all of Paris. More than sixty percent of the provincial contingents still in Paris have been bought by your people with silver livres, and the so-called joint committee follows your orders. As for the National Guard, I am certain that General nou, who supposedly leans toward Brissot’s camp, in truth obeys only you; that gives you control of nearly half the Paris Guard. And the district spear units—if that deputy chief of police, Javert, shakes a money bag or a grain sack, they will not know east from west before they turn their coats.
“And that does not even include your Army of the North—nearly 100,000 hardened troops. Robespierre once told that if you wished it, you could beco France’s Cromwell at any ti, wielding greater power in Paris than Lafayette ever did. So I will ask one bold question, André: what do you want from Paris after the uprising?”
André smiled, lifted the bottle, and refilled Danton’s glass. Pointing to the chicken Danton had seized again, he answered without answering.
“Today’s roast chicken was made with a recipe from a Turkish chef I have just hired. It is excellent. When you leave, I will have the steward pack several birds for you to take ho; I believe Gabriel and little Antoine will like them very much.”
He glanced at Danton and continued.
“Everyone should know that André has always liked to share—with friends: food, drink, and happiness, and also victory and the satisfaction that follows it. As for personally, I detest civil war among French factions, even when the target is the hated court. My Army of the North and I will keep our guns pointed outward and continue driving the front northward—into the Southern Netherlands, Holland, the German states, Denmark, and onward to the Baltic. Of course, there is one condition.”
“Oh? What condition?” Danton leaned forward, his expression turning heavy.
André continued with the sa smile. “I do not want anyone, out of boredom, to co looking for trouble with . I have just learned that Hébert and Frey intend to take revenge for our friend Simon tomorrow—by staging a little intimidation of the Legislative Assembly, a show of strength aid at . Danton, go and warn them: if, from tomorrow before dawn, a single bullet flies into the Legislative Assembly, or if any deputy suffers harm of any degree because of it, I will offer a bounty of one million livres. I will make all Paris hunt them—and their supporters—like hounds, until the last bastard is hanging from a streetlamp.”
At this point André eased his tone and added calmly, “Also, tonight, help remove Mandat. The man has played both sides and broken his word; early this morning he added two thousand more guards to the palace. And I want the Paris Commune under your leadership to nominate General Santerre as commander of the Paris National Guard in tomorrow’s Legislative Assembly. In return, I will recomnd you to Brissot for the council of twelve. If nothing unexpected happens, you will beco Minister of Justice.”
…
At midnight, the Cordeliers’ tower rang an urgent alarm bell, long and insistent; five minutes later, the uprising bell of the Saint-Antoine district answered in the distance.
At one o’clock in the morning on August tenth, Danton gathered delegates from thirty-five sections in the square before City Hall. At around three o’clock, Danton and his n stord the City Hall building and forcibly dispersed the officials who were eting there. Soon after, Danton announced the formal establishnt of the Revolutionary Paris Commune. He appointed Hébert as acting prosecutor, at Marat’s demand; Legendre as deputy prosecutor, at André’s insistence; Tallien as the Commune’s public spokesman, on Desmoulins’s suggestion. As for Mayor Pétion, following Danton’s advice, the Commune rely suspended him temporarily rather than stripping him of the office.
A small incident followed. Using a letter in Pétion’s own handwriting, Danton lured General Mandat to City Hall. The commander of the Paris National Guard brought no escort; he entered the great hall alone. Tallien, acting as spokesman for the provisional governnt, approached and coolly inford Mandat that he had been stripped of all military posts by the Paris Commune. As the forr commander, panic-stricken, backed down the steps, a band of hardened n from the Cordeliers surged forward and tore him to pieces.
Poor General Mandat. His only mistake was that he should never have deceived André. He had sworn that he would not add a single guard to the palace; but as a royalist, Mandat broke his word. The price was his life.
As alarm bells began to ring across both banks of the Seine, Louis XVI lost the last quiet sleep he would ever enjoy as King of France. When the King and Queen appeared before the palace guards, tense and pale, the Queen’s maid noticed that Louis XVI wore neither wig nor scented powder.
In the palace hall, five hundred courtiers under the leadership of Marshal Maillé de La Tour-Landry—now over eighty—were in high spirits. Though afflicted with an eye disease, the old marshal’s gaze still seed fierce behind his spectacles. He loudly assured the King:
“Your Majesty’s guards are loyal and will die in the service of the realm. Not far away stand one thousand Swiss, as hard as Alpine granite. And the three thousand National Guards stationed around the palace will at least remain neutral and prevent the mob from breaking in.”
Courtiers at his side pressed forward as well. “Those alarm bells an nothing. They will ring for a while, and then n will tire and stop. Up to now, there is not a single rioter in sight before the Tuileries.”
…
At this very mont, in the Manège Hall, the headquarters of the National Legislative Assembly, separated from the palace by little more than a wall.
Four hundred deputies huddled in the brightly lit chamber, frightened and seeking comfort in one another’s presence as they tried to endure a sleepless night. The missing hundred and more had mostly fled Paris without permission. Fortunately, the total still remained above three hundred, so the assembly could continue to exist legally.
From ti to ti, a few Jacobin deputies would summon the nerve to stand and attempt a debate, or to deliver a rambling declaration, but after only a few halting sentences they would give up.
Before long, the hall fell back into dead silence. The only consolation was that the gendarrie under President André remained stationed in the Manège Hall, standing guard with ticulous discipline for the deputies’ safety.
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