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Authors: Simon Scarrow

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So he assented to the Austrian offer and sent them his terms. Austria was to cede Belgium to France, permit France to occupy the left bank of the Rhine and recognise the Cisalpine republic of Milan, Bologna and Modena. In return France would hand back Venice, Istria and Dalmatia.
 
For some days there was no reply from the court of the Austrian Emperor, and then on 18 April they sent formal notification that they would sign the preliminary treaty.
 
Napoleon received the news with far better grace than his chief of staff had anticipated and once they were alone Berthier cleared his throat nervously.
 
‘What if Paris refuses to endorse the treaty, sir?’
 
‘They won’t,’ Napoleon replied assuredly.‘France has much to gain from this treaty, and the Directory needs to give the people peace.’
 
‘Some will say that you have exceeded your authority.’
 
‘And I will say that the Directory abrogated theirs the moment they failed to see their plan through. I doubt that the people of France, or the army, would stand by and let me be disciplined for bringing a profitable peace.’
 
‘I suppose not,’ Berthier conceded, surprised at the political turn his commander’s thoughts had taken. This was more than soldierly ambition. But there was an obvious flaw in Napoleon’s peace. Berthier reflected for a moment. Perhaps Napoleon wasn’t as cunning as he had thought.
 
‘One thing bothers me, sir.’
 
‘Oh?’
 
‘This treaty leaves Austria with territory in Italy. It’s hard to believe that there will be no more friction between France and Austria over those lands.’
 
‘I know.’ Napoleon smiled cynically. ‘My treaty practically guarantees that there will be another war.’ He clenched his fist. ‘And next time, I
will
seize Vienna.’
 
Chapter 23
 
Arthur
 
Calcutta, February 1797
 
 
From the quarterdeck of the
Queen Charlotte
, anchored half a mile from the shore, the stench of human ordure was overpowering. The sides of the Indiaman were crowded with soldiers curious to have their first sight of the colony. Their excited chatter filled the air and competed with the cries of the beggars swimming in the water around the newly arrived ship. Amongst them, rowing with little regard for the people in the water, were scores of boats offering their services to anyone on board who needed to be transferred to the shore.
 
On the quarterdeck of the ship stood the paying passengers, equally curious about the new land that lay on either bank of the Hoogley. The river itself was broad and brown and scattered with flotsam, the odd bloated carcass of an animal, and the occasional human. Despite having read as much as he could about India during the six-month voyage round the southern cape, Arthur was shocked by the evident squalor on his first encounter with Calcutta. And he had not even set foot ashore, he reflected grimly. His first instinct was that he should have insisted on a different posting for his regiment. Most of the men of the 33rd Foot had been fed a diet of the most fanciful stories and legends about India. While it was true that a man from even the most humble origins could make a fortune - and a few did - in the employ of the East India Company or in the service of one of the numerous princes who ruled huge swathes of the subcontinent as absolutely as any Caesar, the chances of a man’s surviving the climate and the other risks to health were one in two. Odds that Arthur did not find wholly encouraging, and he was resolved to do his utmost to see that he, and the men of his regiment, looked after their health as diligently as possible.
 
Six months at sea with little opportunity for exercise had already taken its toll on the fitness of the men of the 33rd, and the poor diet and copious drinking had made many of them stout and red-faced. As soon as he had them on dry land that would have to be remedied, Arthur decided. He turned to beckon to his adjutant, Captain Fitzroy, who was talking animatedly with one of the few female passengers who had been so much the centre of attention in the small closed world of the better class of passenger during the voyage. Fitzroy noticed his superior’s summons on the second attempt. He graciously made his excuses to the lady and hurried across the deck to Arthur. ‘Yes, sir?’
 
‘I’d be obliged if you secured the services of one of those boatmen. I wish to pay my compliments to the Governor General as soon as possible.’ He indicated the grey granite-like mass of Fort William standing on the eastern shore of the Hoogley. ‘In the meantime, I want our men ashore as quickly as possible.They are to be quartered in the fort.’
 
‘Yes, sir.’
 
‘And do make sure that you negotiate a good price with the boatman,’ Arthur continued. ‘His Majesty’s funds are not infinite.’
 
Captain Fitzroy grinned. ‘Yes, sir.’
 
Arthur lowered his voice.‘I’d be obliged if you did not arrange any commission for yourself in the process.We’re here to improve the lot of these people, and to serve our country, not just ourselves.’
 
‘Yes, sir.’
 
Fitzroy’s disappointment was evident in his tone and Arthur rather regretted that there was not a hint of shame there. ‘Very well, Fitzroy. Carry on.’
 
‘Yes, sir.’ The adjutant saluted and strode off to carry out his orders.
 
Arthur could not help feeling a surge of irritation over the man’s attitude. He was also worried about the magnitude of the task facing him, given his ambitions for India. Already he had written to Richard and gently suggested that he might put himself forward for the appointment of Governor General of India, and that Henry might be persuaded to join them. India might well be the making of the three brothers, if they could meet the challenges facing them. As far as the East India Company was concerned, their purpose was to make money out of the subcontinent. But now that war was being waged between the powers of Europe, it was vital for Britain’s trade that the Company’s possessions were given military protection. It was already clear that one day the Indian colonies would be run by the Crown, rather than private entrepreneurs, just as it was clear to Arthur that it was in the interests of the peoples of the subcontinent that England put an end to their endless wars and brigandage and bring peace and effective governance to India. That was his great ambition, and one he hoped to share with Richard and Henry if they decided to join him. But he was well aware that there were many obstacles between him and the achievement of his aim.
 
From the copious background reading Arthur had done, it was clear that corruption was rife amongst the Englishmen who served in the three presidencies that belonged to the East India Company at Calcutta, Madras and Bombay. It was hardly surprising given that they were only answerable to Parliament and the stockholders of the East India Company thousands of miles away in London.Any message sent from India took the best part of a year to elicit a reply from London and that meant that the local officials were left fairly much to their own devices. In such circumstances a culture where bribes were offered and readily accepted thrived in a way it did in no other place in the world. No man was immune from temptation. A King’s officer might earn three hundred pounds a year at home in England. Here in India he might earn as much as ten thousand pounds a year through bribes or ‘gifts’ offered by the native princes and merchants in exchange for lucrative army contracts, or forcefully settling disputes between the patchwork of little states that dotted the continent.
 
While that remained the case, Arthur reflected, the British presence in India would never amount to much more than a distasteful leeching operation. If it was allowed to continue, then he firmly believed that Britain’s greatest ever opportunity for enrichment and international prestige would be lost. With scrupulous governance, and an ethic of service to the people, India could be the brightest gem in any nation’s crown.
 
Such had been his thinking on the long voyage out from England. But now that he was here, the raw truth of India made him lose hope. The view of Calcutta from the deck of the Indiaman was as nothing compared to the assault on the senses that greeted Arthur as he stepped out of the small boat on to the roughly constructed quay. Every kind of filth was impacted on the ground and at the entrance to the nearest street lay a dead dog, crushed by a cart so that its entrails had burst from its belly and were now covered in a dark droning cloud of flies.
 

Salaam, sahib!
’ A thin native in a loincloth scurried up and struck his forehead as he bowed to Arthur. Bright white teeth flashed in a smile. ‘I take your bags,
sahib
.’
 
‘I don’t have any,’ Arthur replied. ‘They’re on the ship.’
 
The porter glanced over the English officer for anything else that might need carrying, but Arthur waved him aside.
 
‘Out of my way, please.’
 

Acha, sahib!
’ The porter bowed and hopped to one side as Arthur started along the quay towards the distant mass of Fort William. The squalor of the rapidly expanding town sprawled back from the banks of the river along filthy thoroughfares that Arthur glanced down as he made his way through the crowd of porters, beggars and merchants. The sounds of their cries, alien and shrill, the strangeness of their clothes and rags and the colour of their skins made Arthur keenly aware of how out of place he must seem. Indeed, as he glanced round, he realised that he was almost the only white man visible on the quay.
 
At length the quay gave way to a patch of mud at the river’s edge where children were playing in the water, splashing each other in silvery spray that reminded Arthur how hot he was. He wore the uniform in which he had set off from England, made from a heavy wool that might be sensible for this time of year back in Europe but was a positive torment here in Calcutta. He resolved to find himself a good local tailor as soon as possible to have some uniforms cut from a lighter material. It would be good if the men of the 33rd could be similarly dressed, or a hard march and a fight in this climate might well finish them.
 
Arthur entered Fort William and made his way to the elegant whitewashed headquarters, surrounded by a wide walkway which was raised above the ground and shaded by an overhanging roof. Several officers were sitting on cane chairs round a low table, talking quietly as they drank. Behind them squatted a small figure in a linen robe operating a large canvas screen that fanned the officers as they sat. They stood up as Arthur approached, one or two of them unsteadily, and exchanged a salute with him.
 
‘Good day, gentlemen. Colonel Arthur Wesley at your service. Is the Governor General at headquarters today?’
 
‘Yes, sir,’ the senior officer, an India Company major, replied. ‘Sir John is in his office. Do you wish me to show the way?’
 
Arthur nodded. ‘I’d be obliged. Might I know your name?’
 
‘Harry Ball, sir.’ He smiled readily.‘A regular, before I took the John Company bounty, and I ain’t looked back since. If you’d follow me?’
 
He led the way inside the headquarters and Arthur took the chance to examine the man. So this was one of the East India Company officers. At first glance there was only the uniform to distinguish Ball from the officers in His Majesty’s service. Ball seemed to be in his mid-forties, grey hair cropped short above a creased and tanned face. He looked competent enough, Arthur decided, hoping that he was typical of his kind. There were few enough King’s regiments in India as it was. Without the white-officered Company units the lands held by the three presidencies could be swallowed up by any maharaja, nawab or nizam whose greed and ambition got the better of him.
 
Major Ball led Arthur up a wide flight of steps to the offices on the second floor. The corridors and rooms of the building were airy and spacious and the Europeans who worked there were bent over their desks, cooled by one of the ubiquitous fans worked by the silent figures squatting discreetly at the side of each room. The Governor General’s office was on the corner of the building, looking out over the ramparts to the broad expanse of the river beyond where the
Queen Charlotte
lay peacefully at anchor amid the other shipping. A man dressed in a loose shirt was reading some papers that lay on top of an enormous desk of solid design. His plain coat rested on the back of his chair.
 
Ball tapped on the doorframe. ‘Sir?’
 
The Governor General looked up and Arthur saw that he was an older man, in his fifties with a kindly face and keen eyes. He smiled. ‘I assume you are off the ships that arrived this morning.’
 
‘Yes, sir. Colonel Arthur Wesley. Officer commanding the 33rd Foot.’
 
‘The 33rd?’ Sir John Shore leaned back and scratched his chin. ‘We were expecting you a bit earlier. By the new year at any rate. Your regiment set sail in June, did it not?’
BOOK: THE GENERALS
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