Lieutenant Buonaparte’s mind was fixated only on the order previously issued from Paris, which stated that in quelling the riots, he needed not obtain the consent of his superior officers.
What was more important was that should he successfully resolve the current uprising, a promotion was very likely.
He was merely from a minor noble family on the island of Corsica, and if nothing unexpected occurred, the rank of lieutenant was probably the pinnacle of his military career.
He had to seize the opportunity before him!
He glanced at the frenzied rioters, clenched the hilt of his sword firmly, and thought to himself, “If only I could drag the cannons here.”
But their unit’s cannons were still in Valence, and the colonel would definitely not agree to his dragging the cannons into this town. With the colonel’s ambiguous attitude toward the riots, he wouldn’t even agree to his quelling them.
Soon, the rioters noticed the army, but instead of being afraid, they began throwing stones at the small group of soldiers.
Lieutenant Buonaparte dodged a stone with a turn of his head, only to hear a soldier behind him cry out in pain with an “Ah”.
He looked at the rioters who were full of bluster, frowned slightly, and turned to give a few low instructions to the sergeant beside him. The latter immediately circled around from the back of the line, sticking close to the wall and dashing across the street.
Seeing that the soldiers behind him had already formed ranks on their own, Buonaparte walked forward a few dozen steps and raised his hand to give the order:
“Halt!”
Then, he had an officer step out of the ranks and, following protocol, yelled warnings at the rioters, demanding they leave immediately.
The response they got was more stones.
The lieutenant moved to the left end of the column and shouted loudly:
“Ready!”
“Fire into the air!”
“Bang——”
The sound of gunfire startled the rioters, but they quickly realized the shots weren’t aimed at them and immediately regained their bravado:
“These soldiers dare not shoot us!”
“They only have so few men, don’t be afraid!”
“Drive them away, to Baron Lorette’s house.”
“Kill them with stones!”
Just then, another group of rioters appeared at the corner of the street. The two groups joined forces, now numbering over 500, and, shouting and throwing stones, surged toward the soldiers.
The lieutenant glanced back and saw his soldiers’ movements become distorted with tension—they were after all artillerymen and not very adept at dealing with enemies with flintlock guns—but he nonetheless calmly directed them:
“Don’t just stand there, load your weapons!”
As five soldiers were injured by stones and the rioters closed in to just sixty or seventy paces away, the sergeant who had previously been dispatched finally reached the opposite side of the street.
Without even catching his breath, he immediately followed the lieutenant’s instructions to fire a shot at random, then bellowed:
“Lieutenant, Colonel Reynald is here with a thousand men!”
His voice boomed loud and clear, heard easily by the rioters, who suddenly panicked, stopping in their tracks and looking around.
Lieutenant Buonaparte seized this brief lull, turning his head to hurry the men:
“Load quickly! Hurry up!”
The rioters, a mere rabble after all, were still searching for “Colonel Reynald,” while the 50 artillerymen finally completed loading their guns.
Buonaparte pointed his sword at the rioters:
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“Advance five paces!”
“Ready!”
“Aim!”
“Fire!”
At a distance of fifty or so paces, the artillerymen executed a volley, hitting only six people, but the immense sound of the gunfire and the screams silenced the rioters.
At the same time, the sergeant at the side of the street fired another shot and shouted:
“Run, there’s a lot of soldiers coming!”
“Ah, there must be over a thousand, if we don’t run now we’ll be too late!”
Lieutenant Buonaparte then decisively ordered:
“Fix bayonets!”
“Charge!”
He took the lead on horseback, commanding the soldiers to rush toward the riotous crowd in a horizontal formation.
Their momentum made the rioters feel as though a large number of troops had really arrived, frightening them into retreating again and again. When still more than twenty steps apart, the rioters had already turned and fled…
…
While the uprisings in the southern provinces were gradually calming down, over in Paris, an entirely different sort of propaganda was underway.
The front page of the Paris Commercial News carried headlines like “The Riot Continues to Spread in the South” and “Local Garrison Troops Cowardly in Battle, Letting Rioters Run Amok” every day.
Other newspapers followed suit, painting a dire picture of the southern provinces and depicting the military as too timid to protect local order.
Any news about the uprisings that differed from this tone was completely intercepted by the Bureau of News and Publishing.
Given the speed of information dissemination of the era, even if someone investigated the matter later, it would be very difficult to ascertain if the riots had ended more than ten days earlier than reported in the newspapers.
And from January 25th, the major newspapers began to focus on headlines like “The Crown Prince Leads Troops Southward to Quell the Uprising” and “The Paris Legion Heads to the Western Provinces to Confront the Riot”.
In reality, the Guard Corps was only two days’ march from Montpellier at this time.
The long-anxious Parisians finally saw a glimmer of hope, eagerly anticipating good news about the Crown Prince’s suppression of the turmoil each day.
…
In the Saint-Germain District of Paris, Lady Ebel’s villa was the site of a secret salon.
The participants were all very influential members of the Capitalist Nobility, with a few enlightened members of the Old Nobility present as well.
Mirabeau was delivering a passionate speech:
“The traditional noble privileges are no longer suitable for this world! Those bloated, greedy, and lazy lords only know how to exploit their privileges, year after year wringing the poor tenant farmers dry. What they bring to this country is nothing but suffering, backwardness, and shame!
“How many people have gone bankrupt, ended up on the streets, or even died of hunger or sickness because of their extravagantly worthless lives, while they indulge themselves in balls and banquets at the Palace of Versailles.
“The privileges of the Old Nobility must be abolished! No one should be allowed to become a parasite upon the nation!”
Bailly immediately stood up, excitedly raising his arm:
“Abolish the Old Nobility’s privileges!”
Venio, Jean Sone, Valerna, and others also stood up:
“Even tenant farmers have the right to live well!”
“Completely abolish serfdom; peasants need freedom!”
“Yes! Freedom and the right to survival!”
Mirabeau gestured for the excited crowd to quiet down and continued:
“His Royal Highness the Crown Prince says that the uprisings in the western and southern provinces have brought us a rare opportunity! We must unite and launch an attack on those parasites! To forge a hopeful future for France!”
The light in Venio’s eyes sparkled:
“What does His Highness want us to do?”
Mirabeau took out documents given to him by Joseph, and the dozens of people around immediately gathered closer:
“Abolish all serfdom services, abolish their obligations to the lords.”
“Remove the nobles’ privileges to hunt, to keep pigeons and rabbits, and to fish. Cancel the mill tax, the oven tax…”
“Abolish manorial courts; all disputes should be adjudicated by the courts…”
“Enact a ‘grain yield’ decree; lands over 10 hectares must meet the specified yield per hectare.”
Bailly looked at Mirabeau with a hint of confusion: “What’s this grain yield decree about?”
“His Highness says that it’s an essential foundation for the development of industrial industries…”
…
January 27, 1789.
Montpellier.
On a hillside six kilometers west of Count Seyrelier’s estate, Joseph was making a speech to a gathering of journalists and nobles.
Some of these journalists had followed from Paris, while others were locals from Montpellier summoned by the orderly officer two days before.
“Behold this mighty army!” Joseph gestured towards the distant Guard Corps, speaking with conviction and confidence, “They will quell the uprising at the greatest speed and restore order to the southern provinces.”
Meanwhile, in a dense forest nearby, a group of three to four hundred people, who appeared to be peasants but carried old flintlock guns, were stealthily advancing toward Count Seyrelier’s estate…