Authors: Simon Scarrow
Fire and Sword (3 page)
‘Yes, sire.’ Talleyrand nodded again. ‘I imagine the British will be extending their usual lines of credit to our enemies, together with supplies of arms and equipment and a steady flow of gold and silver.’
‘Of course.’ Napoleon sniffed with derision. ‘As ever, the British spend their riches, and save their lives, leaving the shedding of blood to their allies. So, what of Russia?’
Talleyrand briefly consulted a note on the sheet of paper he held in one hand, then glanced up at his Emperor. ‘Ambassador Caulaincourt reports that the Tsar seems to be reluctant to enter into a war against us on his own. None the less there has been a degree of mobilisation of Russian forces that cannot simply be attributed to a defensive posture. If Austria does declare war on us, then I imagine that Russia might well be persuaded to join the cause.’
Napoleon folded his hands together and rested his chin on the ends of his fingers. As ever, his rivals seemed intent on the destruction of France. Almost for the sake of it. If only they would accept that France had changed. There would be no return to Bourbon tyranny. France offered a model of a better society, Napoleon reflected, and that was what they feared above all. If their own people began to realise that there was an alternative to the parasitical aristocracy of birth, then their governments would collapse like a line of dominoes. Given time, they would follow France down the road of revolution, and emerge at the far end more enlightened, more liberated, and inevitably drawn into a family of nations under the influence of France, and her Emperor. Napoleon frowned.That day was still a long way off. For the present his enemies were gathering, like wolves, and the first step to defeating them must be to find some means of dividing them. He looked up at Talleyrand. ‘What do you make of the new Tsar?’
Talleyrand pursed his lips for a moment and composed his reply. ‘Judging from Caulaincourt’s reports and my conversations with the Russian ambassador here in Paris, it would seem that Tsar Alexander is an impressionable young man. And something of an idealist. He desires to improve the lot of his people, perhaps to the extent of abolishing serfdom. However, he is no fool. He knows well enough that his ambition is opposed by the landowners, and he knows how dangerous that can be.’
There was a flicker of a smile on Napoleon’s face.‘Indeed, it is a rare thing for a tsar to die of natural causes.’
Talleyrand nodded. ‘Quite, sire.’
Napoleon sat down at his desk and clasped his hands together. ‘We are dealing with something of a radical, then. That is good. We might yet bend such a man to our point of view.’
‘Especially as the Tsar has plans to extend the influence of Russia into the Mediterranean and the east.’
Napoleon glanced up. ‘Where he will run foul of British ambitions.’
‘Precisely, sire.’
‘Good. Well then, see to it that Caulaincourt feeds the Tsar a steady diet of information about Britain’s insatiable appetite for empire. As for Prussia,’ he smiled briefly, ‘let’s dangle the prospect of a little reward in front of them. We’ll offer the Prussians Hanover in exchange for neutrality. King Frederick William is no war hero.The man is weak and easily influenced. A bribe should be enough to buy his peace. The Tsar is our real problem. Especially as we are at war with Britain and are likely to be at war with Austria as well in the near future.’
‘Yes, sire,’ Talleyrand assented.
There was something in his manner that caught Napoleon’s attention and he looked closely at his foreign minister for a moment before he spoke again.
‘You have something to say.’
It was a statement of fact and not an enquiry, as the foreign minister recognised at once. He nodded.
‘Then speak.’
‘Yes, sire. It occurs to me that we might yet avoid a war with Austria, and perhaps even achieve a lasting peace with Britain.’
‘Peace with Britain? That treacherous nest of vipers? I think you are deluded, Talleyrand. There is no taste for peace amongst the rulers of that island.You have read what their newspapers have said about me.’ Napoleon stabbed a finger at his breast. ‘Monster, tyrant and dictator. That’s what they call me.’
Talleyrand waved a hand dismissively. ‘A mere foible of their press, sire. British newspapers are renowned for their partiality. As are those of Paris,’ he added with gentle emphasis. ‘It does not make them the mouthpiece of their government.And there are men in high places who would be willing to entertain the prospect of peace with France.’
‘Then why have they not announced their desire more vocally?’
Talleyrand shrugged. ‘It is not always easy to speak up for peace in time of war.Yet the subjects of Britain must be as weary of war as the citizens of France.There must surely be scope for our nations to live in peace, sire. We must break the cycle of hostility, before it ruins us all.We must negotiate.’
‘Why? What is the point?’ Napoleon snapped impatiently. ‘Britain has made it clear that she will be satisfied with nothing less than my destruction, the restoration of the Bourbons and the humbling of France. And then Britain will dominate the continent.’
‘Sire, with respect, I disagree. Britain is at heart a nation of traders, a nation of businessmen. If we could show them that they may trade as freely with Europe as they wish, then we might convince them that this war is unprofitable, in every way. If we could only find some measure of compromise, there could be peace with Britain, and peace across Europe.’ Talleyrand paused and looked keenly at his Emperor. ‘Sire, if you would permit me to open negotiations with the British, then—’
‘Then nothing!’ Napoleon slapped his hand down on the table. ‘Nothing would come of it. I will not compromise. I will not be dictated to by that nation of shopkeepers! There is room for only one power at the heart of Europe. Do you not see, Talleyrand? If you truly want peace, then Europe must be mastered. If we trust to compromise and talk to our neighbours as equals, there will always be differences, enmities and conflict.’
There was a brief silence as Talleyrand stared at Napoleon and then shook his head. ‘That is the council of despair, sire. Surely it is better to negotiate to win others round than to rely on war?’
‘Perhaps, but at least war has the virtue of granting the victor the right to dictate the terms of the peace. Then there is no need for compromise.’>
‘At what cost, sire? How much gold would be wasted? How many lives destroyed? War is simply the failure of diplomacy, sire.’
‘You are wrong, Talleyrand. War is the continuation of diplomacy, in extremis. It is also the most powerful force for unity in a nation. It brooks no compromise and if it results in victory then a nation is rich in glory and self-regard and can remould the surrounding world in its own best interests. Negotiation is the first recourse of the weak. War is the preserve of the powerful. If France has an aptitude for war, then war becomes the most efficient means by which she can exercise her influence.’ Napoleon leaned back in his chair and smiled. ‘And have we not demonstrated a peculiar talent for war in recent years?’
‘A talent for war?’Talleyrand’s brow rose in surprise.‘War is a terrible thing, sire. One would think that such a talent, as you call it, would be an embarrassment rather than a virtue.’
‘You do not know war as I do,’ Napoleon countered. ‘I have been a soldier for most of my life. I have been at war for the best part of twelve years. I have campaigned across the nations of Europe to the deserts of Arabia. I have fought in scores of battles and have stood my ground amidst storms of musket and cannon fire. I have been wounded and I have seen friends killed. I have seen the dead and the dying,Talleyrand. Vast fields of them. I have also seen men at their best. I have seen them master their fears and terrors and attack against overwhelming odds. I have seen them march, barefoot and hungry, for days at a time, and fight a battle at the end of it, and win. I have seen all this.’ He smiled. ‘You see, Talleyrand, I understand war well enough. But you? What do you know of it? An aristocrat by birth. A creature of the salons of Paris and the palaces of princes and kings. What do you know of danger? At the height of the revolution you were not even here in Paris. So before you presume to lecture me on the evils of war, please do me the courtesy of restricting your comments to the field of your own expertise.You deal with the diplomacy. You achieve what you can for France with your silver tongue and your intrigues. But remember this.You are a servant of France. A servant of the Emperor.You are a means to the end, and I, I alone, decide the nature of that end. Understand?’
‘Yes, sire,’ Talleyrand replied softly, through clenched teeth. ‘I understand perfectly.’
Napoleon stared intently at his foreign minister for a moment and then suddenly smiled and waved his hands dismissively. ‘Come now! That is that. Let us not talk of philosophies any longer, but of practicalities. At the present I no more desire war than you do. But one must guard against eventualities.’
‘Of course, sire.’
‘Then we must induce our friends, the Austrians, to believe that there is no advantage to be gained from waging war against us.We have driven them from Italy’s domains. Now is the time to let them know that France is the new and permanent master of the kingdoms of Italy.’
‘Sire?’
‘I want you to make arrangements for another coronation.’ Napoleon tilted his head back. ‘No later than the end of spring, I shall be crowned King of Italy. And we shall extend all the benefits of our civil code and governance to the natives of that land. In short, we shall make Frenchmen of them as soon as possible, so that they will never again have to endure being ruled by Austria.’
‘King of Italy?’ Talleyrand mused. ‘That is your will, sire?’
‘It is. See to it that preparations are begun at once.’
‘Yes, sire.’
‘You may go now,Talleyrand. I have finished my business in Paris for a few days. If you need me, I shall be at Malmaison with the Empress and my family.’
‘Yes, sire.’ Talleyrand paused. ‘And the other matter, sire?’
‘Other matter?’
‘The question of opening negotiations with Britain?’
‘There will be no negotiations. Britain wants war, and war she shall have.’
Talleyrand nodded sadly and left the room, limping on his deformed leg. Once the door had closed behind the foreign minister, Napoleon’s expression hardened. Much as he valued his diplomatic skills, he did not trust Talleyrand. The smooth charm and faintly mocking tone of his voice left Napoleon feeling bitter and angry, a sentiment the Emperor was obliged to conceal as much as possible in order to retain the foreign minister’s services. All the same, he decided that he would have the man watched more closely by Fouché’s spies. While Napoleon had little doubt that Talleyrand was a patriot, that sense of patriotism was tied to a very particular notion of France’s best interests, one that did not conform to Napoleon’s plans for the empire.
One thing was certain, however. Britain must be destroyed. Thanks to the improvident twenty miles of sea that separated France from the cliffs of Dover, there was only one way to crush the enemy: the British navy must be swept from the Channel so that Napoleon could lead the Grand Army in an invasion of Britain and dictate peace terms in London itself.
Chapter 3
‘Well, why shouldn’t I have ten new pairs of shoes?’ Josephine frowned as she poured herself a fresh cup of coffee and then hesitated over a plate of pastries until her fingers alighted on a slender length of biscuit drizzled with honey. Holding it delicately between forefinger and thumb she raised it to her lips and took a bite, chewing for a moment before she continued. ‘After all, I am the Empress, and it would not reflect well on you if I were seen in public in some threadbare sackcloth and a battered pair of clogs. Besides, you can afford it.’
They were alone in the private sitting room overlooking the gardens at the rear of the château. Outside, dusk was settling over the countryside and it was chilly enough to warrant the fire that glowed in the grate, occasionally emitting a sudden crack or hiss from the latest log to be tossed on to the embers. Napoleon was flicking through a tray of correspondence that was resting on his lap. He tapped another letter.
‘And here’s another. From a supplier of curtains in Lyons . . . Five bales of silk.’ Napoleon’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Five bales of silk! Good God, do you know what he has charged you for that?’
Josephine shrugged.
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