Rumors and the National Guard (3)

Joseph stood by his window, gazing into the distance at the column of smoke rising over there.

"It looks like something's on fire," Lucien said from beside him.

"It's Les Invalides," Joseph said. "They say there are plenty of weapons there—the Revolution has begun."

"Shouldn't we do something?" Lucien asked. Joseph turned around. In Lucien's eyes, he could see his eager anticipation.

"No, we don't need to do anything right now." Joseph shook his head. "Lucien, remember: the first one to take the stage isn't necessarily the star. The star only appears at the most opportune moment. Things are too chaotic right now. It isn't our time yet."

Things were indeed extremely chaotic. Almost all of Paris was burning. Rumors that a new St. Bartholomew's Day massacre was about to begin had spread everywhere, and nearly everyone was busy searching for weapons to defend themselves. Joseph lived at the military academy, however, so he was still safe for the time being.

Even the military academy had made preparations for the chaos. The instructors had been authorized to carry firearms. After paying a certain deposit, they could take them off campus to protect themselves at home. Joseph, for instance, now had four rifles and two pistols in the house he rented.

Joseph had told his two younger brothers to stay home from school for the time being and keep by his side. Paris was simply far too unsafe. The streets were full of frenzied, disorderly crowds. Some people were indeed driven by revolutionary fervor, but others were merely taking advantage of the chaos to loot. Meanwhile, over the past two days, Paris's police force had completely collapsed. The police didn't dare leave their homes, for fear of their own safety. After all, quite a few "tyrants' spies" had already been strung up on lampposts these past two days.

The police were certainly a nuisance in ordinary times, but without them altogether, Paris had descended into complete anarchy. Public order had collapsed along with everything else. These days, you could easily be robbed—or even murdered—while walking down the street.

The neighborhood where Joseph lived had already set up barricades. Supposedly, they were meant to fend off the king's mercenaries, who might come to Paris to massacre and plunder its people. In reality, though, their more important purpose was to protect the neighborhood amid the lawless chaos.

A dozen young men in blue stood guard at the barricade at the end of the street, rifles in hand. A makeshift chevaux-de-frise had been set up in front of them as well. No one from outside the neighborhood was allowed in.

Thanks to their quick action, the neighborhood was still quite safe for now.

"Stay inside. If anyone knocks, don't open the door." Joseph took out his pocket watch and checked the time before speaking to his brothers.

"Got it, big brother. Don't worry about us. We're not little lambs anymore. We won't let the big bad wolf in," Lucien said nonchalantly.

"Good. Lucien, you know how to use a firearm. I took you to practice a while ago. Take a gun and protect your younger brother. But be careful—whatever you do, don't let it go off by accident. I have to attend a meeting now, so I'll be gone for an hour or two. Protect yourself, and protect your brother."

Joseph picked up his coat from the rack and put it on. He then donned a hat bearing a blue-and-red cockade and slipped two pistols into holsters concealed beneath his arms.

"I don't need Lucien to protect me. I can shoot too," Louis said. "I'm just as good a shot as Lucien."

"You're still too young. Just listen to Lucien and behave yourself. Don't cause trouble," Joseph said sternly.

"Right. If anything happens, I'll protect you. Just stay behind me and help me load the bullets." With Joseph's support, Lucien was visibly excited.

"All right, I'm heading out. Stay inside and don't get into trouble. If I'm late getting back, there's bread in the cupboard. Sophie isn't here these days, so you'll have to cut some yourselves."

Joseph was fully dressed by then. He picked up his cane and, after giving his brothers a few more instructions, went out.

He walked along the deserted streets for a while. Ahead lay the meeting place: the home of Charles, a banker.

Joseph went up to the door, showed the doorman his invitation, and was let inside. A servant led him through a Rococo-style courtyard to a hall.

Joseph handed his cane to the servant and went in.

Quite a few people were already in the hall. Joseph knew most of them; they were among the wealthiest people in the neighborhood.

"Gentlemen, may I have your attention!" Charles the banker took out a gold watch attached to a long chain from his pocket, checked the time, and called out, "It's about time, and most of our people have arrived. Let's not waste time. We'll begin."

Everyone fell quiet.

"Gentlemen, you all know what has happened these past few days," Charles said. "Mr. Necker has been dismissed. This may mean the king's attitude has changed, creating a great deal of financial uncertainty. So we've temporarily closed the stock exchange. You also know that Mr. Necker's sudden departure has brought far too much uncertainty. We've also sent a representative to Versailles to find out what's going on."

"Well? What did they find out?" someone asked anxiously.

Most of the people here were wealthy. Many of them were creditors of the French government—or, more accurately, the French royal family. In recent years, much of the French government's spending had been financed by borrowing. Now everyone feared His Majesty might default on his debts or forcibly lower the interest rate on the national debt.

"It's been confirmed that Mr. Necker was dismissed. The king's side has claimed there won't be any default or forced reduction in the interest rate on the national debt, but the king himself didn't make that statement, so its credibility is questionable. Our representative also learned that troops really are being moved around near Paris."

The moment he said this, an uproar broke out.

Charles seemed quite pleased by everyone's reaction. He quietly savored it for a while before speaking. "Everyone, calm down. Don't panic. We also sought confirmation from the Marquis de Lafayette. He revealed that the king has indeed brought in a regiment made up of mountaineers, but they're only there to reinforce Versailles's defenses. The regiment is small and lacks heavy weapons. They're no threat to Paris."

"But there are more than twenty regiments near Paris already!" someone shouted.

"The Marquis de Lafayette has assured us that the French Army will never attack Paris," Charles replied.

"But will they stand against the mercenaries?" another person asked.

"Of course not," someone in the crowd replied. "At dawn yesterday, the French Guards had already withdrawn to Champ de Mars. In other words, whatever happens in Paris, they won't get involved."

"That's right," Charles said. "Given the danger we face, I'm not referring only to the mercenaries, but also to the looters outside. You must know that over the past two days, quite a few legitimate merchants have been robbed or even killed by these thugs. Almost every lamppost in Saint-Antoine District has a grain merchant hanging from it. If these thugs make it into our neighborhood, it will be a nightmare."

"We've already built barricades and organized a guard. What can those thugs do to us?" someone said disdainfully.

"If all we had to deal with were scattered groups of thugs, our current defenses would be more than enough," Charles said. "But we also have to consider the possibility of mercenaries showing up. And those thugs could band together, too. So... we can't rely on each neighborhood to face all of Paris's thugs by itself. Gentlemen, why can an army so easily defeat a mob of ruffians several times its size? Because an army is organized. We must organize our forces into a real army. Only then can we protect our own interests in this stormy new age."

"But where can we find anyone with military experience?" someone asked.

"The Marquis de Lafayette said that he had some experience organizing militias in North America. He can offer us some help," Charles said.

Joseph smiled faintly as he listened. Lafayette's meaning was actually quite clear. He had considerable influence in the French Army, but the number of French troops he could truly command was limited. If a militia were organized in Paris, the city's size meant they could raise at least forty or fifty thousand men. If Lafayette could control such a force—or at least make people believe that he did—it would inevitably bring him greater political influence.

"Then we're all set. With the Marquis de Lafayette, we can rest easy," someone murmured.

"The Marquis de Lafayette also believes that we should join forces with the gentlemen of the other respectable neighborhoods and form a unified National Guard. Only by bringing together the respectable people of all Paris can we face the various dangers and better protect ourselves," Charles continued. "Following the Marquis's recommendation, our neighborhood's National Guard can be organized into a company. As its largest benefactor, I'm willing to take responsibility for serving as its captain. Who's for it, and who's against?"

No one spoke.

Charles looked around at everyone with satisfaction and was about to continue when someone suddenly spoke up. "Charles, may I ask you a question?"

Charles looked over and saw an old man named Orlando. He knew that although Orlando merely ran a tavern, he had ties to the House of Orleans. So, despite frowning slightly, Charles still asked amiably, "Mr. Orlando, what is your concern?"

"Gentlemen, I have great respect for Charles's character and his desire to serve the neighborhood. I only want to know, Charles, have you ever served in the military? When it comes to commanding a company of Louis d'or, none of us can match you, but commanding troops in battle..."

"Then, Mr. Orlando, do you have someone suitable in mind?" Charles asked in return.

"I don't," Orlando said frankly. "Nor do I object to you becoming captain, Charles. I just wanted to recommend an adviser."

With that, Orlando turned to the others and called Joseph over. "Mr. Bonaparte, would you come over here, please? I'm sure you all know him. He's an instructor at the military academy and an active-duty soldier. He has more experience in the art of war than any of us. The barricades we built were designed by him. Mr. Bonaparte is an active-duty soldier, so he can't hold an official position in the militia. But I believe that as a member of our neighborhood, he should still contribute whatever he can. So I'd like to invite him to serve as the military adviser to our neighborhood's National Guard company. What do you think?"