Not Quite a Monarch: A Semi-Dystopic Timeline

[Cheer]

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to my very first timeline! I thought it might be fitting for the 4th of July to start on my first timeline: an American one.

The format for this TL will be a mixture of dryer, more textbook-like pieces to move the story along and smaller, more personal narrative bits, called "interludes" to add character.

"Why is it 'semi-dystopic?'" you might ask. Well, dystopias are horribly depressing. While this world will end up pretty crapsack, it won't be as bad as WMIS or Decades of Darkness even at its worst, and it will always have at least one plucky nation or group of good guys to cheer on! Come one, come all, and enjoy Not Quite a Monarch!

(As always, critiques and comments are more then welcome! I always love to learn more about history, and this is a great chance to brush up on the American stuff. )

CHAPTER ONE: STUMBLING BLOCK

George Washington, First Princeps of the United States of America
​

The year was 1787. George Washington, the quintessential American figure, had been drawn out of his life of seclusion and relaxation and back into the spotlight. A rabble-rousing group of rebels led by none other than Daniel Shays and Job Shattuck, his own former soldiers, had hardened the other Founding Fathers’ resolves to change, alter, or maybe even completely replace the so-called “Articles of Confederation.”

Washington didn’t think much of the farmers. But, that a paltry force of four thousand civilians and militia came so close to threatening a government that, theoretically, controlled a land more than twice the size of Britain scared him. It was with such a distracted mind that Washington hurried down his stairs away from his bedchamber, as best he could, in order to reach the study and begin writing to his friends and enemies at the Congress. And, in such a hurry, he tripped. The general who had led the famous Continental Army in defeating the most powerful nation on Earth tumbled down his stairs. At the end of the flight, he lay still. [1]

Martha found him still unconscious. In the next few weeks, she called for doctors, surgeons, and friends. Washington spent the weeks drifting in and out of consciousness. He was lucky to have made a recovery, the doctors told him. Most men his age would have died after a fall like that, the doctors told him. He only wished they would leave him alone. He liked the silence.

Washington would go on to make a full recovery from his fall, save for what he described as “occasional and piercing headaches” in his letter to the Congress. But, those who knew him closely swore he was like a different person. Shortly after his visiting Mount Vernon, Madison would describe Washington as “more complacent… less personable, and all-together less complete a man.” Washington’s behavior post-fall was different in all aspects of his life. He became even more trusting of his friends and less of those he perceived as his enemies. He became prone to temper at times, though in most of his life he was even mellower; friends were worried that he didn’t care about anything at all from time to time.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

One man, however, was very happy about Washington’s new “condition”: Alexander Hamilton. When the Congress assembled to discuss a replacement to the Articles of Confederation at the Constitutional Convention in Philadelphia later that year, Hamilton pushed hard for a radically more centralized government. Not only did he call for the federal government to have more power, he called for a centralized figure, stronger than the Presidents of the past. The “Senatorial Princeps,” or simply “Princeps,” that Hamilton proposed would draw strongly from the old Roman Republic and even Empire in its inspiration. One man, he argued, would have to hold strong power in order for a republic to function correctly; the masses must not be given total, unchecked power, or chaos would reign. On his side was Rufus King, George Washington, and, with Washington, a reluctant James Madison.

Their system was the Federal System. Benjamin Franklin and Thomas Jefferson were the main opposition, declaring that the general public should have more of a say and that such a strong leader as Hamilton suggested was like accepting another king. Jefferson and Franklin suggested a much weaker President that was still stronger than the current figurehead and a stronger— but still weak— federal government than the Articles provided— the Confederate System. John Adams maintained a resolve to compromise, but he was shut down early in the debates.

Hamilton, in the end, got his way. The federal government would hold all the powers of OTL’s, but the real different was the Princeps. Washington was elected as Princeps with around 65% of the vote, while around 35% went to Benjamin Franklin and his coalition. It was thought by many Confederates that his lack of sons and general upstanding behavior would keep the position from becoming the role of king.

The new Princeps Washington’s powers were nebulous. What was specifically laid out was that he shared control of the army with its Director (with final say belonging to the Princeps), he could sign or veto legislation, he could propose legislation, he could settle international treaties, he could meet with ambassadors, he could have his own optional cabinet of advisors, he could grant reprieves and pardons, he could convene or adjourn Congress, and he could nominate his choices for the new Supreme Court of the United States. The Princeps did not have a position like Vice President, instead having two Auxiliary Directors, forming a sort of triumvirate, who were to advise the Principes and fill the positions of Director of the Treasury and Director of War.

Future Principes were to be nominated by the old Princeps or the Congress for a term of eight years, and a currently presiding Princeps could re-run for the office an unlimited number of times or appoint anyone they wish to rule in their place. The Princeps could not remove his Auxiliary Directors from their positions until he ran again, in which case he could run for re-election with different Auxiliary Directors. The Princeps could be impeached for “unrespectable or malicious behavior.” The most controversial part of the new position was this appointing of successors. The Constitution allowed an aging Princeps to nominate anyone as a successor, including his son or a friend, and, as long as that nominee gained the majority of the vote, keep his dynasty going indefinitely. In essence, at least in Jefferson and Franklin’s view, the position was that of a king.

However, in the case that a Princeps would die along with his successor or without a successor chosen, the power would not fall to the next of kin, but rather the Auxiliary Director of War, a small consolation. If he were to die at the same time, the position was to go to the Auxiliary Director of the Treasury, and then to the President of the Congress, and then to the Speaking President of the Senate, and then to a successor decided on by a vote in the Legislature.

But, the people were glad for the freedom to vote for their Congressmen, who in turn were to be trusted to vote in the “peoples’ choice” for Princeps every eight years. The popular view was mostly that of a race for power between Washington and Franklin, and, as they much preferred the victor, Washington, there was relatively little unrest.

The rest of the Constitution was crafted much as Madison wanted, with assistance from Hamilton and a few compromises with Jefferson. The Bill of Rights was passed through with some complaint from Hamilton, but compromises with Jefferson’s coalition needed to be made. The final document included eight amendments to the constitution:

1. Freedom of religion, assembly, press, speech, and petition.
   
   
2. Right for each state to maintain its own military in addition to the federal military.
   
   
3. The right to deny quartering of soldiers in one’s home.
   
   
4. Freedom from unreasonable searches and seizures by the government.
   
   
5. Right to due process of law, freedom from self-incrimination, and the prevention of double jeopardy.
   
   
6. Rights of accused people (fair and speedy trial, trial by jury in civil cases, etc.)
   
   
7. Freedom from cruel and unusual punishment.
   
   
8. Other rights not explicitly mentioned are reserved to the individual states.

The vote for Hamilton’s Federal System over Jefferson’s Confederate System almost tore the union apart. Though Franklin managed to assuage the Confederates, as its supporters were known, the argument moved on to representation, and that was an issue nobody seemed to agree on. Should the new nation represent each state equally, with one representative, or proportionally? If a representational system is established, should slaves be counted as people, as property, or as something in between? Just as it seemed that the convention would be torn apart by the red-faced arguments being yelled across the room from each side, Washington and Franklin desperately trying to keep the peace, a man named Edmund Randolph called for compromise.

The governor of Virginia, and its delegate, and former aide-de-camp of General Washington, he claimed he represented both North and South, Federal and Confederate, aristocrat and layman. His compromise was a reluctant one, born out of a need to maintain the union, and termed the Virginia Compromise (or The Great Compromise of the Constitutional Convention.) The Virginia Compromise barely passed, but it did, and it became a part of the Constitution. It had four main parts:

1. A Congress of Representatives would be assembled with two representatives for each state, voted on by the people of their state.
   
   
2. A Popular Senate would also be assembled with the amount of Senators a state would receive directly based on that state’s population, based on a census held every ten years. [2]
   
   
3. Slaves would count as 4/5 a person, which Jefferson had advocated for in his Popular Plan.
   
   
4. The Federal Government would receive a centralized treasury in an attempt to compromise with Hamilton’s Federalists, because this argument was also a major point of contention.

Princeps Washington's pick for Supreme Court Chief Justice was John Jay, a legal expert and, for the most part, a loyal Federalist. The Supreme Court was to have one Chief Justice to preside over their cases and six other justices: three Confederates and three Federalists, of varying loyalty, from the precedent set by the new Princeps Washington after Hamilton's advisoral suggestion. If a tie was to be reached through judges abstaining, unable to be present, or from some other reason, the law stated that the Princeps would cast the tie-breaking vote.

And so, with the rest of the new Constitution drafted, and with Princeps Washington elected by the Congress, the Constitutional Congress adjourned. Every state would accept the new Constitution, even though it would meet with popular resistance in the South, and George Washington soon formally took power with Alexander Hamilton as his Director of the Treasury and Henry Knox as his Director of War for his Auxiliary Directors.

The day was September 17, 1787. A new age had emerged in America. An age she may not be ready for.

[1] Our PoD!
[2] The Congress of Representatives is often shortened to just "Congress," while the Popular Senate is often referred to as "the Senate." Collectively, they are referred to as the Legislature.

 

[Cheer]

CHAPTER ONE: STUMBLING BLOCK, INTERLUDE​

The United States needed a capital. And the Legislature, of all things, couldn’t agree on where. Some wanted it to remain in Pennsylvania, some wanted it in Boston, and Jefferson had the ridiculous notion that it would be best off in Richmond. George Washington ran his hands through what remained of his powdered hair as he sat staring at his desk. He often did this.


As usual, Alexander Hamilton sat with him, ink and paper at work, an eager, thoughtful face tilted upward at the sky. Henry Knox was not present for this particular meeting; he was off worrying about military budget with some legislators. The sound of pen on parchment scratched through the small New York office as Washington sighed. He had only been Princeps for a month and it was already wearing on him. Washington’s own paper was blank. He couldn’t find it in him to care where the capital should go. Did it really matter? It was just a bunch of bricks in a city, anyways.


“Thank you for naming me your successor, Princeps Washington, sir,” Hamilton said from his seat. “It is an honor.” He had put his papers down and was staring at the Princeps with a strange look.

Hamilton was right, Washington thought at least. His original pick for heir, Lafayette, would never be accepted by the public. A foreign Frenchman as Princeps? Preposterous. No matter if Washington considered him a son or not, he trusted Hamilton and his judgement, and that was that. Plus, Lafayette had seemed eager to return to his home country of France and serve there. Washington would miss the man, though. Oh, but he was distracted again. He had to answer Hamilton. He would have to let that man know that he was just too talkative sometimes. He could suffer to allow a man his silence.

“Please. I’ve told you, Mister Washington will suffice.” Washington offered Hamilton a half-smile in recognition. “And you have earned it, Mister Hamilton. You have distinguished yourself well. You work hard.”


The young Auxiliary Director smiled and turned back to his paper. “Thank you, Mister Washington. Now, about the capital. I think this is a good idea, this idea of Adam's. A city right on the border between North and South. Somewhere on the Maryland-Virginia line, perhaps? Right beneath the Mason-Dixon, so they get what they want, but not too much. We may even be able to get them to help pay the war debts in return. But I’m thinking of taking it a step farther; what if we were to build a completely new city? We can take some swampland somewhere and turn it into a new Rome! Marble buildings, monuments, memorials.... What do you think of that, Mister Washington? Mister Washington?”


Hamilton turned around to see Washington rubbing his left leg, wincing. Feeling Hamilton’s alarmed eyes on him, Washington quickly returned to his blank paper and pretended to think.


“Mister Washington, are you quite all right?”


Washington didn't answer.


"Mister Washington? I can call the doctors if you wish, sir, no trouble at all. I--"


Washington pounded his fist on the table, tipping and spilling his ink. It ran like black blood across the empty paper and off his desk. “I am perfectly fine, Mister Hamilton," he said through gritted teeth. "Nothing… nothing serious at all. You were saying?”


A moment passed by as Hamilton sat, shocked.


"You were saying?"


Hamilton reluctantly continued with his idea.


"Well, Mister Washington, I believe that if we...."

 

[Cheer]

CHAPTER TWO: DEATH OF A GENERAL

"George Washington as the Roman Idol, Jupiter" by William Rush, 1826,
constructed for the Resplendent Hall on the Golden (50th) Anniversary of the United States.​

George Washington, first Princeps of the United States, was dying. He had fallen moderately ill eight days earlier, on November 2nd of 1787, but it looked for a few days that he may be getting better. He sat up from his bed after the eighth day of the sickness and walked around his office; he answered a few letters from the Legislature. He steadily improved the next few days, and by the eleventh day of his sickness, he had recovered enough to meet with his Auxiliary Directors and help finalize their plans for the new capital. But, on the eleventh night, he suddenly withdrew back into the early symptoms of the sickness. Except this time, they were worse.


Much worse.


The doctors kept him in his bed; they told him it was anthrax. [1] They had excised the tumor from his leg on the day he first fell ill (Nov. 2), but there wasn’t much else they could do this far into the infection. He shouldn’t have kept it a secret for so long, he overheard them telling Martha. It was the fall, she said. It had changed him. Well, he couldn’t argue with that. He certainly didn’t feel like the same man. Where was the calm, forceful general who inspired all those around him? Nobody had known him for months. No, Washington was not the same man, and he knew it. He passed in and out of consciousness in the days ahead, awaking to alternating cold and hot fevers and wracking coughs. His leg hurt and itched insatiably under his thick blankets. He almost preferred the restful sleep to this waking nightmare. At least then, he wasn’t in pain, and the doctors weren’t scuttling about his bedside, forcing him to swallow whiskey and mercury concoctions or rubbing beetle paste on his neck. Or, most uncomfortably, bleeding his extremities to help assuage his swelling. Well, at least they had the decency to hang ropes across his New York office’s streets to impede traffic. No carriage wheels or horse hooves on cobblestone would betray him his blissful silence.


In one of his brief moments of complete clarity, he called for Martha, ever at his bedside, to bring him Alexander. He could feel death approaching, and he had parting words for his heir. For his nation. The Auxiliary Director hurried to his old general’s bedside. The only other person in the room besides the Princeps and his Director was Tobias Lear, Washington’s loyal secretary and stalwart guardian in his last days. Lear would later record an account of what was said between Washington and Hamilton, however accurate it may really be.


——————————————————————————————————————————


According to Lear’s account, Washington thanked Hamilton for coming, and then warned him about his hotheadedness, urging him to be calm in his decisions for America’s future. He then proceeded to urge him to stay out of foreign affairs. He commanded the future Princeps to be just with his power, expressing his dissatisfaction at how nebulous they had been written to be. Through hacking, dry coughs, George Washington urged Hamilton to “…lead this new nation of ours in a steadfast direction, holding against the winds of our times.” He then gestured Lear to come over to the bed, and ordered him to have his body buried at Mount Vernon, where it belonged.


Then, he addressed both men with what were to be his last recorded words.


“I am not afraid to go to my Creator. I know the silent hand of Providence guides this great nation of ours, and I trust its leaders to accept this guidance well. Gentlemen, go in peace. I am content.”

And so, on November 13th, 1787, only 58 days into his rule, the first Princeps of the United States, George Washington, died in a bed in New York City, New York, leaving the fate of his nation and its people in his Legislature-approved successor: Alexander Hamilton.

​

[1] This is actually OTL, give or take a few days. But, he was stronger having not taken that fall, and he reported it immediately rather than keep it a secret due to TTL's erratic personality change.

 

[Cheer]

CHAPTER TWO: DEATH OF A GENERAL, INTERLUDE

Federal Hall, first capitol building of the United States,
as it would have appeared on the afternoons of the inaugurations of Principes Washington and Hamilton.​

“Alexander Hamilton, deliberately chosen Heir of Former Princeps George Washington, in the Trust of Our Legislature in your Duty and Reverence to God and Country, repeat after me.”


John Jay, Chief Justice of the Supreme Court, recited the oath aloud at the balcony of Federal Hall for Alexander Hamilton to repeat. This would be the second inauguration in one year, and curious spectators gathered all around to watch their new Princeps be sworn in.


“I do solemnly swear this day, November 15th, 1787, [1] that I will defend Man’s God-given, Inalienable Rights through preserving the tenets of our Constitution and ruling with the blind Hand of Liberty no matter the consequences for Me and my House.”


Hamilton repeated the oath to wild applause. He took the same Anglican Bible Washington had kissed on his Inauguration Day and did the same. More applause. He sat down at a hastily procured, yet ornate, chair and table centerpiece and signed a document with the same words he just repeated, ad verbum. More applause. Inside, Hamilton smiled. He could get used to this Princeps thing.


As he strode down the steps of Federal Hall’s balcony, kissing babies and shaking hands professionally, he thought about Washington. He was deeply saddened by Washington’s death, the same as all of the Founding Fathers, really. No matter what anyone’s political views, he had been a friend and a figure to look up to. Hamilton remembered his final personal words to him in a sudden chill of dread. The beloved figure had warned him. Be just. Don’t get caught up in Europe. Don’t get cocky. The new Princeps took a deep breath. Simple. Everything was under control. In the meantime, all he had to do was play to the public opinion. However much he hated mixing with the common folk, he couldn't afford any discontent. He turned to a particularly guant, pallid mother of six and embraced her young son, who was standing nearby, sucking the dirt off his fingers. Hamilton then turned around and wiped the dirt off his powdered face with gritted teeth, meaning to shake Adam's hand and have a little chat. Good man, Adams. But there, right behind him, stood another old acquaintance. Aaron Burr.


“Pleasure to see you again, Mister Princeps, sir,” said Burr, through what Hamilton could only assume was a forced smile. “Not everyone gets opportunities such as yours. Congratulations.”


“Ah, Mister Burr! Thank you kindly, sir. You’re a gentleman and a scholar. You know, I don’t think I’ve seen you since Brooklyn. [2] You look sharp!”


“Likewise, Mister Princeps, sir.”


“Thank you, thank you.” Hamilton coughed. “Anyways, I must be going, lots of people to see. Oh, yes, I do believe that’s Eliza over there, calling me! I have to go, lots of hands to shake and all that. It was wonderful seeing you. May God bless you.”


“God bless you,” Burr replied, seemingly also relieved.


Hamilton scurried away deeper into the crowd, shaking hands and giving greetings as he went. The Eliza thing, of course, was a total lie. Knowing her, she was already in the carriage, itching to go back home. Hamilton had to find some way to escape that man, though. Dreadful man, too shifty. He couldn’t believe that he would have to deal with him in Congress. Think! The insanity that someone voted for him. Multiple people, in all likelihood. He turned to kiss another orphan.


——————————————————————————————————————————


Alexander Hamilton, second Princeps of the United States of America, relaxed as best he could in his study. Alone. His chair was wooden and uncomfortable, but it would have to do. Eliza wouldn’t let him use the bed if he was to be “scribbling on that portable desk” all night. She called it scribbling! The nerve. He was trying to figure out who he would appoint as his new Director of the Treasury, and he just so happened to need to write lists. They helped him think straight. The room was completely silent; gas lamps cast warm light over its entirety. He gazed over at Jefferson’s imported French wine. The bottle had arrived that morning anonymously, unlabeled except for the word “congratulations.” But it was Jefferson. Nobody else would go to all the trouble of importing the stuff from France. He was a weirdo, all right. [3] In the meantime, he sipped on a warm glass of Adam’s bubbly; now that man, he knew how to give a gift.


It was riding that inauguration high, drinking that champagne, writing out those lists, and judging who to re-gift the wine to the next day that Alexander Hamilton made a decision: he would do whatever it takes to help this fine new country. Old George had worked so hard to build this nation and set it the right way, and dammit if Alexander would see that slip away. No, he thought, what this country needed was a good, firm hand. Sometimes, a country needs a little nudge in the right direction. That’s the idea. Like a child who talks too much, or a scoundrel who wants to drink French wine. A strong, guiding hand is best. He would be a good father for this country. The way Washington would have wanted it.


He raised his almost-empty glass in the air and toasted, alone.


“To the future of this fair nation.”


[1] The Constitution states that a mourning period of “one day and half of a day” be held before swearing in the Legislature-approved heir of a deceased Princeps (Unless, of course, “dire circumstances or pressing matters of the State demand otherwise.”)

[2] Referring to the Battle of Brooklyn, where Burr rescued Hamilton, but did not receive a commendation for bravery and promotion from Washington, while Hamilton did. A pointed gesture from Hamilton to remind Burr on who has always been ahead and a warning to go away. (Even though, he had seen Burr since then. Multiple times.)

[3] Jefferson loved imported French wine. Loved it. He also happened to be in France at this time.

 

[Cheer]

CHAPTER THREE: THE REPUBLICS ENTWINE

​

Alexander Hamilton kept Knox as Director of War, and appointed John Adams as his Director of the Treasury. His appointed cabinet of advisors consisted of Timothy Pickering, Rufus King, and Harrison Gray Otis. He refused to set an heir at first, and instead dove wholeheartedly into his work. He found it surprisingly easy to work with the Legislature, as the better majority of both the Congress of Representatives and Popular Senate was comprised of Federalists. Thomas Jefferson and the ailing Benjamin Franklin spearheaded the Popular Party, the opposition to the Federalists largely born out of members of the Constitutional Convention’s Confederates. Below are the cockades of the two parties, which proudly display the colors they would quickly become associated with.

Federalist Party Cockade

Popular Party Cockade
​

During the first year of Hamilton’s Princepship, the state ran on as usual. Hamilton was very keen on keeping the United States “just as Mister Washington would desire.” The United States National Bank, of Hamilton’s earlier devising, received more funds. Canals were planned and built to transport goods throughout America. The Northwest Territories were separated into distinctly organized territories that were set to become their own states when they reached a set population: Ohio, Metropotamia, Wabasha, Illinois, and Milwaukee.

Rough map of the Northwest Territory’s planned states.
​

Perhaps the most interesting bit of legislation between the time of Hamilton’s inauguration and the French Revolution was the construction and moving of the United States’ capital. In 1789, two years into his Princepship, Hamilton and his Legislature constructed a new capital, built on the Potomac River between Virginia and Maryland, a location settled on long beforehand in return for all states paying their due Revolutionary War debt. Pierre Charles L’Enfant designed the city, with its marvelous wide streets and beautiful parks reminiscent of his home, Paris. The grand city had a planned, grid-like street system growing like honeycomb out of the wider major lanes, with plenty of room for city housing and amenities. The south of the city held a canal system for the use of the Army’s six boats and any commercial ships, run from the Potomac, a touch Hamilton insisted on. Along the canal grew stately oak trees, and it ran at its northernmost towards the capital in the city center. There, on top of a central hill overlooking the American capital, was a domed Roman-inspired Capitol Building, and near the opposite side of town was the Princepial Estate, a mansion with a gated orchard of apple and cherry trees growing on all sides surrounding it; Hamilton moved in as soon as he could. The city was named Washingtonopolis, in honor of the late Princeps and war hero. The nation finally had a capital.


——————————————————————————————————————————

​

But then was the French Revolution. Near home, in the mild Caribbean waters, the slaves of French Haiti revolted and installed their own republic on the island. Across the turbulent Atlantic waves, the people of France had risen up against their old leader, the despised King Louis XVI. By 1797, after bloody fighting and struggle, the Revolutionary Republic of France had taken hold of the country. Led by Director Maximillian Robespierre, the radical government had beheaded its two former monarchs, Louis and his wife, Marie-Antoinette, with its new favorite toy, the guillotine. Along with the kingly craniums rolled the heads of almost any suspected dissenters, counter-revolutionaries, royalists, or other anti-Republican men or women. Robespierre was a brutal tyrant, and, despite claiming to be a more enlightened and freer republic than what the French revolutionaries considered the “failed American experiment,” Robespierre managed to wrest even more power than Hamilton had, under the guise of “emergency” powers. But, despite the fear of beheading sweeping Paris’ streets, the Revolutionary Republic managed to stir up new nationalist sentiments in the nation. Pride for France swelled, and the military grew to unprecedented size. Robespierre, already beset on all sides by foes who would like to maintain the former status quo, including Great Britain, and encouraged by his leading generals, [1] decided to attack his Italian neighbors. Statelet after statelet fell to the mighty French armies, and Europe rocked with nationalism as it spread under marching soldiers’ boots.


Hamilton, in preparation for the turbulent times ahead, increased the size of the military drastically, despite Popularist opposition. He reorganized the Army into the Legion of the United States and appointed Anthony Wayne, known for his fiery spirit and short temper, as its General Legate, despite personal differences. While the Army remained only one Legion and two small ships strong, Hamilton managed to narrowly pass a bill allowing the Princeps to begin conscription, should any “wartime threat to American Freedom” arise. He chose to withhold on creating a Navy for the time being, as negotiations with both the new French Revolutionary Republic and the British Empire were promising, and any Navy seemed extraneous. But soon, in 1797, disaster struck. In a meeting between American and French ambassadors, the French demanded a bribe before opening negotiations, a common European “courtesy” that French Foreign Director, Talleyrand, thought the Americans would meet. Outraged, the American diplomats returned home after denying even a penny to the French, and Princeps Hamilton was informed of what transpired. [2] After the aggravating French capturing of American merchantmen what seemed like countless times prior, this would be the last straw.

British political cartoon depicting the Talleyrand Fiasco, as it would come to be known.​

In a few short months, the United States geared for its first war. At first, American privateers launched a sort of quasi-war with French merchants, cutting off a bit of France’s remaining Atlantic and Caribbean trade. But, the war soon escalated. Hamilton was always inclined to support the British rather than the French anyways, and the Talleyrand Fiasco was just the impetus needed to show his support to the island nation, and maybe recieve some benefits for the USA. He commissioned five new frigates for the new United States Navy, to assist to the Alliance, the only ship left from the Revolutionary War. He also assigned a new “Subdirector of the Navy,” Isaac Hull, who would be under Henry Knox, now both the Director of the Armed Forces and Subdirector of the Army. The Army’s size was increased by 20,000 men. And, perhaps most importantly for the fledgling nation’s future, America began ties with Britain. The Anglo nations would fight together in the Caribbean War, as it became known to America, against Revolutionary France.


In the year 1797, an Anglo-American alliance was born, and France’s new Revolutionary Republic had one more foe.


[1] Napoleon went and got himself killed in Egypt trying to become Pharoah there. The more Roman-inspired and megalomaniac French and American republics inspired him to invade for that main reason, and France was more turblulent and impotent, and seemingly weaker militarily than OTL, so he saw no pressing cause to return.

[2] I figured the XYZ Affair or something similar happening was more than likely, as it was a European "custom," if only unofficially, and America wasn't aware of it.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Any criticism or comments are always more than appreciated! And, please forgive the shoddy map. Due to some momentary constraints, I had to use an online paint program on a laptop instead of a nice desktop computer with Inkscape.

 

[Cheer]

CHAPTER THREE: THE REPUBLICS ENTWINE, INTERLUDE

The best surviving portrayal of the Marquis de Lafayette.​

The Marquis de Lafayette stared ahead into the cheering crowd. Men and women of all ages, occupations, and walks of life clapped, whooped, and jeered excitedly. They jostled around with the shuffling of nervous anticipation, some craned to get a better look at the central platform. The faint aromas of sweat, horses, and restaurant food wafted through the open courtyard with a cool breeze. In the center of the plaza was a large wooden platform. On the platform was the object of the audience’s attention: a guillotine. To the side of the platform, by the tumbrils [1] that brought them, sat some twenty-odd unfortunates, a miserable, doomed lot who frequently rubbed their necks. This included the Marquis. [2]


The crowd, however, thronged to all sides of it, on which stood some unlucky political dissenter, the executioner rapt at attention, and, strangely, Maximilien Robespierre himself. The Director of the Revolutionary Republic stood reading from a small piece of paper in his hand. Lafayette couldn’t quite make out the Director’s droning, but he had heard similar statements read or recited before a similar crowd time after time again. Robespierre would be condemning this man— and, each individually and with his own speech, his comrades, with some canned speech about loyalty to the Republic. A grand spectacle.


Lafayette remembered feeling perturbed when he first attended one of these events. Monsieur Guillotin had never meant for his creation to be a public spectacle like the commoner’s execution of a few years prior; his device was meant to be purely egalitarian. Not that the crowds cared about Monsieur Guillotin’s feelings. No, Lafayette was no longer perturbed. He was merely numb. This execution was soon to be his.


Robespierre finished his spiel, and the crowd quickly shushed. Lafayette perked up. The man about to be executed had shown pluck during the ride to the plaza.


“Now, the convicted may give his last words,” Robespierre stated, rather flustered at the crowd’s sudden near-silence.


The square grew even stiller than before. It seemed to Lafayette that every person in a four-hundred foot radius had ceased to breath. He caught himself in the same trance, waiting to hear the convict’s final breaths. Seconds passed.


The convict bowed his head, but he gave not a single word.


The audience restarted their conversations, cheering and booing immediately as the sullen victim was shoved to the execution block. The executioner pulled the lever, the audience’s roar rose to a slightly louder volume, the head rolled off, the roar returned to normal, and that was that. Then the same ritual was repeated almost twenty times.


——————————————————————————————————————————


Lafayette slowly climbed the stairs up to the platform. It was his turn. Last up. Hundreds of eyes followed him. A trickle of sweat ran down the back of his neck despite the cool breeze. He suddenly felt naked— exposed. That feeling was why he never grabbed power. Maybe he should have. That way, he wouldn’t be in this mess. He smiled ruefully to himself. But no. Robespierre and his groupies would never have allowed a conservative like Lafayette to reach any semblance of political power. It was dank cells and cold chains for the Marquis. He reached the center of the platform. Robespierre stood thinly, regarding the bound war hero. Lafayette defiantly stared at him back. The statesman had always reminded Lafayette of a rat; not a fat, furry Paris rat, but a thin, cunning, sly country rat, something you would find in Auvergne or Gascony. The rat-man read his speech. Lafayette didn’t pay close attention to it. His mind was elsewhere. His youth, the War, his stint by Louis’ side, his years imprisoned. It all seemed so far away now, as if another man had lived that life and a new one had been born just this moment.


Then he heard it. That final silence. Up to this point, the spectators hadn’t payed near as much reverence to the last words of the dissenters after that initial man, instead continuing their conversations and cheers. But it seemed Lafayette’s reputation preceded him. The hush once more fell over the crowd.


Lafayette licked his lips, sent up a quick silent prayer, and spoke with a quavering yet strong voice.


“I die for Liberty. May she forever live in the heart of the Frenchman.”


And, with that, Gilbert du Motier de Lafayette, the Hero of Two Worlds, was led to the block.


And the crowd remained silent.


[1] The tumbril was a wagon that would carry the victims of a guillotine to be executed.

[2] Lafayette was imprisoned by Robespierre and, in OTL, freed by Napoleon. Robespierre ITTL, on the other hand, is doing what he feels is right to do to who he sees as monarchist sympathizer. Kill.

(NOTE: This occurs the same year as the Talleyrand Fiasco and the USA's declaration of war against France, 1797. Some historians ITTL even tribute the timely execution of Lafayette as a sort of message to America.)

 

[Cheer]

CHAPTER FOUR: FRAYING AT THE EDGE​

Photograph of the painting "Hamilton's Decision," by John Trumbull, 1816​

The Caribbean War should have been simple. It was a war with no real urgency. The enemy was across the ocean, and the US was protected by Britain’s indefatigable fleets, after all. The French were beset on all sides with foes, and could not project to invade the US. Hamilton’s war was a safe one. Plus, the goal was very straightforward: help Britain cripple France’s naval trade by patrolling the American coast and the Caribbean. Easy. It’s not like there was much of a French presence in the Caribbean or Atlantic, anyways. And, at first, it was simple. The diminutive United States navy set out to patrol the Caribbean and American coast, and several victories were won against French privateers, and even one French frigate in the first major American naval victory, the Battle of St. Martin. Said battle was won by one of the new US ships, the USS Lafayette, a symbolic victory as well as concrete. (The United States Navy at the time consisted of six frigates: the USS Lafayette, USS Constitution, USS Alliance-- the only ship leftover from the previous Continental Navy-- USS Liberty, USS Washington, and USS Franklin— after the recently-deceased founding father.) [1]


But, Hamilton saw an opportunity. To the west of America’s steep Appalachian mountains and flat Mississippi plains lay Spanish-controlled Louisiana. And Spain was allied with France against Britain ever since the end of Lannes' invasion. [2] Technically, the United States was not yet at war with Spain. But, with Spain so closely allied with France and so explicitly against Britain, and with America fighting alongside Britain, a fight with the Spaniards would not be completely unjustified. Hamilton had a choice to make. He could continue fighting in the Caribbean, nominally helping Britain and playing the part of the apprentice. Or, he could boldly propose a war to annex the Louisiana Territory, officially joining the Coalition Wars against France in their entirety; Britain would accept no less if the United States wished to antagonize Spain further.


While most of Louisiana’s western landmass was considered a vast, useless desert by Hamilton’s government, with it would come complete control of the Mississippi River trade, and New Orleans, a city that control a huge portion of American trade. Hamilton reasoned that the concept of doubling the country’s size and gaining an important port city his country had been eyeing for years would prove a popular decision, especially following the stunning victory of the USS Lafayette. He was wrong.


His proposal for war against Spain was met with shock from Federalists and outrage from Populists. Many Populists saw a war of annexation and the subsequent gaining of territory to be unconstitutional. After all, the Bill of Rights gave states their own militaries, didn’t cover annexation of new land, and stated quite clearly that any rights not explicitly mentioned belonged to the states. Wasn’t the obvious answer to the question of annexation that states should use their individual militaries to do so, and a federal annexation is unconstitutional? Most dishearteningly to Hamilton, several Federalists agreed with the Populists on the issue, even including John Adams, his own Director of the Treasury!


Hamilton and his fervent yet increasingly small core group of supporters heatedly argued his case before the Legislature; the annexation of new territory is a federal duty because it would clearly benefit all states as a whole, and the states would not be able to feasibly undertake such a task without federal centralization and assistance. He invoked, for the first time, what he liked to call a “common sense clause.” The issue became so divisive, and so fundamentally different in the different sides’ interpretations of the Constitution, that it had to be decided in a Supreme Court case. [3] A special session was called to determine the official stance on the issue: would the technically correct yet obviously flawed constitutional rules be upheld, or would Hamilton’s “common sense clause” be invoked to allow debate on the annexation of Louisiana to continue?


The sides were debated and heard by the Supreme Court, Hamilton arguing one side, Jefferson spearheading the other. A yay for the “common sense clause” or a nay against it. The courtroom was packed with audience members, from both the Legislature and the population of Washington. One by one, the judges announced their votes. One vote for nay. Then one for yay. Another for nay. In the end, Hamilton had two votes, and Jefferson had three; one faithless Federalist judge had abstained. However, in one of his bolder (and stupider) moments, John Jay cast his vote, which would decide if the case ended in a tie or Populist victory, for the Federalists. It was a tie. Three to three. And, according to the Constitution the Populists claimed they tried so hard to protect, the tie-breaking vote would fall to… the Princeps. Alexander Hamilton. [4] The Princeps stood up, brushed himself off, calmly walked to the presenting-podium, looked Jefferson in the eye, and said one simple word.


“Yay.”


According to Jefferson’s memoirs, Hamilton proudly strode out of the courtroom trying to hide a smug grin. The crowd behind him burst into outrage and elation.


That day, a precedent was set.


[1] The same amount of ships they had OTL, though they were all new in that case. And, yes, the USS Constitution is made of that awesome wood.

[2] Covered in a later update.

[3] As provisioned ITTL version of the Constitution.

[4] Yes, this is true. If you read near the end of the first chapter, where it briefly introduces TTL's Supreme Court, you will see that in the case of a tie, the Princeps will decide. The political fallout of this decision will be, as can be assumed, monstrous.

 

[Cheer]

CHAPTER FOUR: FRAYING AT THE EDGE, INTERLUDE
​

Hamilton growled.


“What do you mean you resign?!”


The Princeps threw up the stacks of papers crowding his desk. They flew up into the air in a flurry, stacks beneath them flowing off in a wave. The sudden gust of movement caused his hair powder to puff out too, and soon the dignitary was caught up in a coughing fit.


Henry Knox watched uncomfortably from the other side of the Oval Office.


“Do you realize,” Hamilton continued, “what I am going through right now? Ever since that Supreme Court case, every newspaper, journal, and one-penny tabloid in the country is saying I’m some sort of dictator! The damn press is suffocating me! I can’t even take a step out of this building without fights breaking out in the streets as I pass! The nation is divided, Mister Knox, and we’re not even technically at war with Spain yet. The whole point of my ‘yay’ vote— to double the size of this country, mind you, double it— and I can’t get the damn legislature to take a vote. Calhoun [1]— the new guy, from South Carolina if you can believe it!— well he and his cronies have been stalling for weeks. Weeks I tell you! Talking about tariffs, and trade deals, and everything completely besides the point that everyone there knows we should be going on about!


“And now, now, in the middle of a war— a damn war, with France no less!— you come to me and tell me you resign. I’m up to my elbows in bills to sign and people to please, and you waltz in here like a regular Talleyrand [1] and tell me you quit. Well… well… well I….”


Hamilton stopped. He sat down, clutching his now-bedraggled curls. He took a deep breath. Knox continued to stand there, more uncomfortable then ever. His massive form [2] looked awkward in the smallish office, which was temporarily cluttered with mid-move furniture. He opened his mouth as if to speak, and then closed it again. Slowly and carefully, in the same manner as he lit cannons in his youth, he began to slide out of the room.


“Wait. No, don’t go. I… I apologize. You have no idea how stressful this job is.”


Knox stopped and nodded awkwardly, his clumsy sneak already halfway to the door. He gave a halfhearted chuckle.


Hamilton composed himself fully. “I’ll just replace you with Wayne. [3] The Legislature should love that.”


“Sir,” Knox started tentatively, “I don’t know if you’re being sarcastic or not.”


“To be honest, Knox, I don’t know either,” the Princeps replied.


He waved Knox off.


“Go on then. I wouldn’t want to keep you. Get all your bags and such arranged. It was nice working with you, and all that.”


“Yes, sir. Thank you, Mister Princeps, sir.” A hasty military salute and Knox was out the door.


As soon as Knox was out of sight and earshot, Hamilton sighed and slumped in his chair. He skimmed the surface of the ruined stacks of papers lazily until he found what he wanted. There. A single long, ink-blotched, dogeared piece of paper with illegibly cramped handwriting scrawled across it: his own handwriting. Only a rough draft now, this one piece of paper was his current pride and joy. He stooped over in his chair and picked it up out of a mass of approval notices for Swedish imports waiting to be signed. He flipped it over to the front side, placed it on his desk, dipped his new steel pen in its inkwell, and renewed work on editing the document.


Across the top in neat calligraphy lay its working title: The Slander and Sedition Act.


Hamilton whistled quietly as he worked, pen scratching on paper. Nobody would call him a tyrant now. Nobody. It simply isn’t right for a man of his stature to have to endure that.


For the good of the country, of course.


[1] "Talleyrand" has become synonymous with "traitor" or, more generally, "sleaze-bag" after the Talleyrand Affair and the diplomat's other, more European, escapades.

[2] Henry Knox was fat.

[3] General Anthony Wayne is one of the United States' major generals at this time. Hamilton had planned to put him, the last remaining "credible" general in his eyes, in the forefront of his dreamed-of Louisianan annexation, but is now forced to put him in the position of Director of War, or be lambasted by opponents for choosing one of his own cronies unfit for the job, or, heaven forbid, himself.

NOTE: Yay, an update! Stay tuned, guys, because next chapter is an update on the situation in Europe! I'll try to speed up the pace a little bit more soon once we've got the preliminary stuff all out of the way. There's just so much drama to be had. Yum. Every chapter has got to have an interlude in my format, I wanted to show Hamilton starting to break under the pressure anyways. He never took insults to his character well....

 

[Cheer]

CHAPTER FIVE: DOWN WITH THE OLD TERROR, UP WITH THE NEW​

Portrayal of Robespierre's Reign of Terror​

In 1793, France killed her king. Robespierre’s reign— the Reign of Terror— had begun


From 1793 to 1801, the Director (titled Director-Consul instead in 1801) ruled over the longest, most brutal nine years of France’s existence yet. Any and all who criticized the Revolutionary Republic or its Directory were either publicly executed or hunted down by the feared Directoire de Sécurité Publique, or Directory of Public Security. The Directory, as it was commonly known as, served as a nine-person governing council in name, but in reality it was completely controlled by its Director: Maximilien Robespierre. The National Assembly, France’s de jure legislative body, could do nothing without Directory approval; it was like the Roman Senate of old. Anything the Assembly was to do, at least during wartime, had to pass through the Directory first, and, by the time of the Directory’s establishment, France was perpetually at war.


A coalition of Austria, Prussia, Britain, Piedmont, Naples, Sardinia, Portugal, Spain, and other, more minor, powers was bearing down on France. The French armies were in peril, losing everywhere, and the situation must have seemed grim. The Directory began mandatory mass conscription of France’s population to overcome the Coalition’s manpower, but it seemed to only be delaying the inevitable.


But, in early November of 1793, a fiery, daring young major-general (only 25 years old) emerged from the ashes of France’s defeats, surely forged by the trials and hardships France was facing. His name was Jean Lannes. Four successive victories for Lannes saw the Austrians hurrying back to the Austrian Netherlands and Rhineland, while the Prussians faltered in their advance due to divisions in their own leadership. By mid-1794, Prussia had officially signed peace, and Austria was done making any meaningful contributions to the First Coalition. Robespierre established a “sister republic” in the Netherlands, annexed the Austrian Netherlands, and successfully held the new eastern border with Major Generals André Masséna and Louis-Gabriel Suchet, the other rising stars of the French military. General Lannes, meanwhile, spearheaded an attack on Catalonia that would leave Spain shaken to its very core. As the First Coalition became weaker and weaker— not in the least bit due to its own arguments and incoordination— France was allowed breathing room. The new French Armée d’État had held its ground, and more, and Europe was shellshocked.


Meanwhile, France’s domestic situation did not look so promising. The Girondins had been completely purged by Robespierre’s Directory of Public Security, everything from bread to land was heavily taxed to fund the government’s war effort, any and all dissent was quashed at conception, and the many battles across France’s countryside (coupled with the aforementioned bread tax) devastated the countryside and starved the poor. The starvation in Paris was especially bad. The guillotines in Paris worked every day, but still there seemed to be more bodies lining the streets than the in the carts. It was truly grim.


Robespierre’s purging of his political opponents, namely the Girondins, allowed him breathing room to rule France as he saw fit. He seized and publicized industry to make way for the war efforts, and enforced strict tariffs. Then, he purged Paris of any Catholic “influence,” whether it be cathedrals, basilicas, or even prominent Catholic officials. Instead, he attempted to promote his radical Natural Deism, which supplanted the minor ultra-radical religion of Reasonalism, a type of proto-atheism. Natural Deism called for intense devotion to the causes of “liberty, democracy, and fraternity,” taught of immortality of the soul in a type of Purgatory and Heaven, and adherents were to have a “Mass” every Sunday in their homes, followed by the host providing a meal for his guests. The religion caught on in the upper echelons of Parisian society and politics (mostly as a way to please Robespierre), but, much to the Director’s dismay, and despite conversion attempts in Paris, the commoners clung tightly to Catholicism in these dark days. The new religion became a blight on Robespierre’s rule, and, while the remaining government kept quiet for fear of being executed, the citizens of France muttered discontentedly in the streets. Robespierre had made the same mistake as Creon: change the laws all you want, but don’t touch your peoples’ religion. [1]


This new anti-Catholic religion, along with apparent disdain for the Parisian poor, oppressive taxes, lack of solutions for the starvation issues, mass conscription, and the general wartime horrors led the people of Paris to revolt. On December 29,1800, it was announced that the Republic would no longer print the Assignat, which was devalued to the point of losing almost all worth; the straw that broke the camel’s back. Sensing their chance, the next day, several Assembly leaders declared Robespierre as a tyrant and gathered a mob to attack the Grand Chateau de l’Assemblée, where Robespierre, the Directory, several Assembly members and bureaucrats, the police force, and the Parisian National Guard were holed up. The Siege of the Grand Chateau, as it would be known, lasted for twelve hours, before the Parisian National Guard and police forces opened fire on the mob, which quickly dispersed. Needless to say, Robespierre’s response was quick and brutal. The Siege of the Grand Chateau soon turned into the Massacre of 1800. Ill-prepared citizens fought back with hastily-constructed barricades, stones, wooden posts, and small amounts of firearms as best they could, but it was no use against the National Guard. By the next morning, hundreds lay dead in the gutter, and hundreds more wounded.

Imperial Portrait of High Caesar Massena, by Francisco Goya, with the French constitution in the background alongside a book of tactics to display the symbols of his reign​

However, Major General Massena and his deputy, Jean-François-Auguste Moulin (commonly known as d’Calvados,) were nearby. Massena heard of the massacre and was horrified. After much deliberation, and with encouragement from d’Calvados, Massena took his corps of troops, including two artillery battalions, and marched on Paris. Within two weeks, he was parading down the city center with half of his men, the other half ready to begin a full-scale siege. His force dwarfed the Parisian National Guard, and the Directory had no choice but to surrender to Massena. And with that, a Major General received a very hefty promotion.


He proclaimed himself Haut César (High Caesar) of the Republic of France. [2]


——————————————————————————————————————————


Robespierre killed himself in prison the next morning, using a smuggled-in kitchen knife. Massena, outraged, made sure to publicly execute all the other Directory members and some National Assembly members, restructuring the Assembly as the “Revolutionary Senate” for his own uses. After the spectacle of the Directory members’ demises, public opinion was firmly on his side. The people, especially those of Paris, adored him. And, the politicians either liked him or were apathetic; he did not openly persecute the few remaining adherents of Natural Deism, and even a few minor supporters of Robespierre were spared. He was largely seen as benevolent by Parisians, and he was wildly celebrated elsewhere in France as the toppler of the hated Directory. However, he failed to radically change any of Robespierre’s major policies. He only lessoned the unpopular extraneous taxes rather than abolishing them, including the bread tax, and he kept the former conscription laws ad verbatim. The major difference was that of rhetoric: while Robespierre had waxed on about democracy and liberty, Massena gave speeches about the strength of France and pride in one’s nation. He had seen what kept his soldiers fighting, and it was nationalism. And he saw that, if fed the same message, the people would keep fighting, too. La Strasbourraise [3] sang proud at his coronation, with the added final, pleading, verse of:


“To you! Let glory surround

Citizens, illustrious warriors,

Fear in the fields of Bellona,

Fear the sullying of your laurels! (repeat)

As for dark unfounded suspicions

Towards your leaders, your generals,

Never leave your flags,

And you will remain invincible.


To arms, citizens…”


Marianne, the personification of Liberty, was disassociated from Natural Deism and reassociated with the Republic. She appeared everywhere in her spot on the new national emblem, from the National Hall to even the center of the flag. Nationalist ideals were spread throughout the countryside, and morale was improved tenfold with faith in the new leader.


Sights were set on the Swiss Confederation, and, after a relatively quick mountainous assault, a new sister republic, "Helvetia," was formed. Parisian morale increased to a fever pitch, and Massena was paraded as the hero who saved France.

Flag of Helvetia​

Massena prepared to begin a new era.


[1] In later centuries, conspiracy theories would abound in Europe about the Natural Deists maintaining a malevolent secret society against Catholicism.

[2] Note the lack of "Revolutionary." That's no longer a part of the official title.

[3] The same as OTL France's anthem with some very minor changes, named ITTL for the city it was first performed in.

Yay an update! Praise Marianne, exalt Victoria, the timeline's not dead! *trumpets in the distance* Maybe I can stop updating in real time now that I have some more time.

 

[Cheer]

CHAPTER FIVE: DOWN WITH THE OLD TERROR, UP WITH THE NEW, INTERLUDE​

Paris smelled of excitement. Tension. Movement. Edward loved it. But not as much as this café’s smell of coffee. Truly, the greatest invention in the world, coffee. That, and alcohol. Edward observed the growing crowd from the safety of the large window beside his seat. He looked back to the rest of the patrons, hoping to find that sweet French girl that had smiled at him earlier; maybe he could treat her to some wine. He accidentally kicked over his bottle of wine at his feet as he turned. It was empty. Well, he might as well celebrate a successful desertion. He deserved it. No more battlefields for Edward. Of course, he had been celebrating for close to a month now. He really needed to move on, Gascony sounds nice. Open fields, far from the war, a lot like Albany, really.


Edward remembered Albany. He and his family, Loyalists to the core, sleeping in the kitchen to make room for two of the King’s soldiers. His brother, rebellious little Sammy, who had always found some mischief to get in, sneaking into the upstairs and killing the soldiers in their sleep. Sammy’s brave eyes glassing over under the shadow of the gallows. Edward had joined the army later that year. He’d wanted to kill every last one of those rebel bastards that had filled Sammy’s head with such ideas. He had only meant to fight in the American Rebellion, and he did a damn fine job there, but then his family had moved to England, and then this Robespierre fellow started this mess in France, and then— Edward winced, gingerly touching his shoulder. Now he was here. He shook his head. At least the old wound had managed to keep him from being conscripted.


What was he doing? Wallowing around in old memories? He took a sip of coffee. Cold. Starting to feel the wine really go to his head, he decided to look back up toward the room behind him. Maybe he could find that girl and—


What was the barkeep doing?


Gervaise— was that his name?— had, for some reason, decided it would be acceptable to his customers if he stood on top on the bar. Well, Edward would show him what for. His father had run a tavern, and he wasn’t about to let this emaciated creature ruin the good name of the establishment in the minds of all these fine people. He reached into his coat and gripped the cold metal “grip” of his bayonet. It wasn’t meant to be used as a knife, but it was all he had from his army days. Edward imagined it: he would stand up from his seat, whip out the bayonet, and brandish it at the idiot on the bar before he sullied coffee’s reputation beyond repair, thus winning the affections of that wonderful girl and.... Edward’s jaw dropped. Was Gervaise snatching the drinks from his patrons?


With a loud crash, the old, jowly barkeep threw one of the half-drunk glasses of alcohol to the ground, spewing the liquid across the small room, including onto Edward’s perfectly good beige jacket. The alcohol was green—absinthe, probably. The stuff was getting to be extremely popular, despite it basically being pure alcohol. The patrons sat still, shocked. Another crash. This time, it was wine. Another. Rum. Another. Wine again. Another. Coffee. People started to grumble, and Edward moved to stand up. Now was his chance. One more night here with a pretty girl, then he was off to Gascony, and from there… Spain, maybe?


But then, the café grew silent. And Edward, looking into Gervaise’s face, saw why. The man had an aura about him. There he stood on top of the bar, hands now empty of glasses. His wispy grey beard no longer seemed a sad complement to his hanging jowls, but rather a testament to age and wisdom. The old codger looked downright regal.


He shed his coat jacket like a cape. Then, slowly, with shaking hands, he unbuttoned his undercoat, leaving only a simple collared white shirt. He stood before the small café of people. Then, he pulled from his pocket a shriveled, yellowed paper cockade of red white and blue: the symbol of the French Revolution that had put Robespierre into power and killed so many of Edward’s friends. He crumpled the thin, brittle paper into pieces, and dusted off the remains onto his discarded coats. Several older gentlemen from the table next to Edward abruptly stood up and left, grumbling to each other. Everyone else stayed seated, transfixed. Gervaise bent over pulled out a revolver and a knife from inside one of the coats.


Edward understood. The smell of tension, the growing crowd outside, the cockade. He had misinterpreted the situation. And, strangely, he only grew more excited.


A few other people hurriedly left: young ladies— including, unfortunately, the one Edward had been eyeing— and the last remaining man over the age of forty. All who remained in the café were Edward, Gervaise, a few women, and a small group of young men.


“Tonight is the night!” Gervaise said in French. “The government has stopped printing the Assignat. What is a people without money? What is a people without their dignity? The Sea Green Incorruptible has become the beacon of corruption! King Robbespiere’s reign has gone on too long! We’ve been done gone with one king before. We’ll do it again! Who’s with me?”


Silence. The young men looked around awkwardly. All the women but one left. It was a rather lousy speech after all. But Edward knew what he would do. He stood up.


“I am,” he answered in his own French. Time abroad pays off.


After, him, the woman stood as well. Then the other young men. Gervaise smiled grimly.


“There’s knives and wooden beams in the back closet,” he said.


“No need,” Edward replied. He pulled out his bayonet.


“I’ve got a weapon.”


——————————————————————————————————————————


“This is bad, this is bad, this is bad, this is bad, this is really bad, this is bad, this is—“


“Would you SHUT UP already?”


Robespierre’s attendant yelped and stopped his pacing and rambling.


“Of course it’s bad,” Robespierre said through gritted teeth. “Six members of the Assembly called me a tyrant before the entire group. Then, they marched right outside to join an ever-growing mob of rabble with rifles and torches that demand my head on a pike. And here we are, trapped in the Chateau of the Assembly with a bunch of politicians, with no way out. What about this situation would not be bad?”


The entire room of worried politicians stopped their hushed conversations to look at their Director-Consul. Robespierre swore he heard a flute of champagne drop to the floor.


The poor attendant was white as a sheet.


“It’s just… twelve hours…,” he said, “Nothing to eat, no way to escape… we’re going to die. Did you all hear that? We are going to—“ The door to the courtyard slammed open.


The preliminary panicked squeals were silenced when everyone saw just who had opened the door— the captain of the Parisian National Guard, the most elite police force on the continent. He straightened his scabbard, cleared his throat, and announced in a droning voice.


“Parisian National Guard, reporting for duty, Director-Consul Robespierre, sir. Three full contingents are waiting in the courtyard. We have the gates under seal and lock, sir. The crowd hasn’t fired. We await your command.”


“Well… that’s quite nice,” Robespierre replied. He, like just about everyone else, had assumed that the Guard had abandoned them; the contingent that had been posted by the courtyard gates had defected to the mob, and no help was expected. Well, he would have to give the captain quite the medal for this.


The Director-Consul had the Guard march him out to see the mob. The people jeered and booed at the sight of him. He stared into the crowd. A pathway of lightly sprinkled bodies lay scattered between the street and gates— presumably how the Guard reached the gates to replace the missing post. He thought he saw some men in uniform among the crowd, angrily brandishing bayonetted rifles his direction. All the angry eyes glared from over a makeshift barricade that ran across the wide gate, broken furniture and raw lumber making its majority.


What an ungrateful people. After he gave them their freedom.


“Fire at will.”


He solemnly walked back to the big oaken doors to the Chateau. As he walked, blood pooled across channels formed by the mortar in the brick courtyard. Robespierre’s steps were met with quiet splashes.


——————————————————————————————————————————


The people fled as the shots began. The gates unlocked, and soldiers poured out, stabbing and shooting as they climbed over the makeshift barricades. The mob fought back valiantly. They returned fire with the firearms they had, and more than a few Guards were pummeled to death by boards or shanked with knives. But it wasn’t enough. The pale sun rose to corpses littering the gutters. The songs say there wasn’t a street in Paris that wasn’t tainted by blood.


Among the corpses by the sides of the gate laid two broken bodies, side by side. One, a young man shot in the head gripping a bayonet. The other, a long-jowled man stabbed through the neck, a revolver laying by his side.

In the Massacre at the Chateau of the Assembly: Marriane Guiding the People, 1843 by Théodore Géricault, an idealized depiction of the doomed mob, led by Marriane to symbolize their yearning for freedom. The triumphant feel of the painting is due to the Massacre being the first step to Robespierre's fall.​