When the tale had been told, General Graham said to Roger, ‘But now tell us of the war in the north; for you must have much later news of that theatre than we have here.’
‘I’ve no idea, Sir, how up to date you are,’ Roger replied. ‘But so far neither side has reaped much advantage from this year’s campaign. Following Napoleon’s disaster in Russia, Prince Eugène was forced to fall back to the Elbe, but the French still had strong garrisons in all the big fortress towns of northern Germany. After the great Kutuzov died in March, General Wittgenstein was given command of the Russian army, but he was later succeeded by Barclay de Tolly—ever a cautious man—so the best advantage was not taken of the situation.
‘By early May the Emperor arrived in Saxony with great reinforcements to take the field in person. At Lützen the allies should have gained a victory, but were foiled by Marshal Ney’s determined stand at Gross Gorschen. In the battle General Scharnhorst was killed; a great loss to the Prussians, but they still have Gneisenau and Blücher. I gather that the old man is a real tiger. He has never got over his men being driven from the field at Jena, and has sworn to have his revenge on Napoleon, or die whilst seeking it.
‘Later in the month, to cover Silesia, the Emperor crossed the Spree and there was another great battle at Bautzen, which again ended in a stalemate. After it the French succeeded in raising the siege of Breslau, while the Emperor retired on Dresden.
‘It was shortly afterwards that he made, to my mind, a great mistake. The allies had failed in their attempts to induce the Saxons and the Danes to come over to their side, and both the Prussians and the Russians were tired and downhearted. Had Napoleon realised that, one more battle might have finished them. But he evidently believed the forces arrayed against him to be much more formidable than they actually were, so he sent Caulaincourt to the Czar Alexander to propose an armistice. The Austrians acted as mediators and it was agreed that hostilities should cease from June 4th to July 20th, and just before I left England I learned that the armistice had been extended for a further month.
‘There can be no doubt that Napoleon’s object was to gain time for further reinforcements from Spain and Italy and fresh levies from France to join him and give him superiority in numbers. But things may well go the other way. It gives the allies, too, time to regroup and increase their forces. Prince Bernadotte has landed in Stralsand with a Swedish army that has not yet been in action, and he is an extremely able General. Last, but not least, the Austrians have not forgotten that Napoleon has twice occupied Vienna, and has robbed them of many provinces. They are still sitting on the fence; but as their price for remaining neutral they are demanding the return of Illyria, the restoration to Prussia of her stolen territories and many other concessions. To submit to such humiliation I judge to be contrary to the Corsican’s nature. And, if the Austrians do come in against him, ’tis my belief that his goose will be cooked.’
On the following morning Roger set out for Wellington’s headquarters, and he reached them two afternoons later. The French armies of both King Joseph and General Clausel had been driven across the Pyrenees, but as General Graham had told Roger, it was not the Duke’s intention to follow them until he had captured two important fortresses: Pamplona and San Sebastian, both still strongly garrisoned by the French.
Roger had first met Wellington when he was a Colonel in India, but more recently he had brought him valuable information about the enemy’s intentions in Portugal and Spain; so when, after a brief wait, an adjutant led Roger from the blazing sunshine into the cool shade of the Duke’s marquee, he received a pleasant welcome.
When he had congratulated the great commander on having just received his Field Marshal’s baton in recognition of his brilliant victory at Vittoria, the Duke said:
‘Sit down, Mr. Brook, and tell me what brings you here.’ Then, being one of the very limited number of people who knew of Roger’s second identity as one of Napoleon’s A.D.C.s, he added with a smile, ‘I hope it is to tell me that you again mean to present yourself at the enemy’s headquarters and bring me back all you can learn about his latest plans.’
Roger returned his smile. ‘Indeed, Your Grace, I do intend to go there, if you can provide me with the uniform of a dead French officer—preferably a Colonel. And you may be sure that I will do my utmost to return with information useful to you. But it was not that which brought me here. A young officer very dear to me was taken prisoner by the French only a short time ago. I know King Joseph well, and have little doubt that at my request he will release the prisoner on condition that, on rejoining your army, he should be sent to England, so that he is of no further value to you.’
The condition was not an unreasonable one, and Roger had thought of including it in his request because, if Charles could be got away from Spain, there would be no likelihood of his being captured a second time and Georgina’s vision coming true.
‘There will be no difficulty in getting a suitable uniform for you,’ the Duke replied. ‘There are hundreds of wounded in the hospitals. But who, may I ask, is this young man whom you are so anxious to relieve of the tedium of captivity?’
‘’Tis the son of my greatest friend, a lady whom you must have met when in London. She is now the Duchess of Kew, but was formerly the Countess of St. Ermins. It is her boy, the young Earl.’
The Duke ran a finger down his high-bridged nose, then shook his handsome head. ‘I am much distressed by what I have to tell you, Mr. Brook. Soon after the Earl arrived at my headquarters, on learning that he spoke fluent German, I attached him to the Duke of Brunswick’s staff. When it became known here that Prussia had declared war on France, Brunswick naturally wished to take his German Legion back to fight on their own soil. His request was granted, and they were shipped to Germany. St. Ermins had formed a strong attachment to the Duke, and I allowed him to go with them. I fear you have had your journey to Spain for nothing. He must be a prisoner somewhere in Saxony or Silesia.’
14
The Greatest Statesman of His Age
Two factors accounted for the Duke of Wellington’s outstanding success as a General: his unceasing care that his men should be well-fed, well-shod and suitably clothed, and the unusual combination in a military commander of the resolution to launch sudden offensives with the utmost vigour but coupled, normally, with almost excessive caution.
It was the latter which had determined him—although his army could now have invaded France almost unopposed—not to cross the frontier while leaving the two great fortresses of Pamplona and San Sebastian still in the hands of the enemy and therefore capable of interfering with the smooth running of his lines of communication.
On learning this, Roger realised at once that it might be several weeks before the British army crossed the Pyrenees, so he must do so on his own; and since it was evident that Charles had been captured somewhere in Germany, he must make his way there as quickly as possible.
A quarter-master secured for him the uniform of a French Colonel of Chasseurs, who had recently died from wounds, and an additional horse to carry his baggage, including a sufficient supply of food and wine to last him several days. A staff officer showed him on a large-scale map the disposition of the French forces in the mountains, as far as they were known, and provided him with a laisser-passer to show any British or Spanish advanced patrols that he might encounter. Then, on the morning of August 2nd, he took leave of the Duke and set out for Paris, the first five-hundred-mile stage of his long journey.
Owing to Napoleon’s heavy withdrawals of troops from Spain for his campaign in Germany, and the almost total destruction of King Joseph’s army six weeks earlier at Vittoria, it was known that the French forces along the Pyrenees were comparatively few in number and still in a state of grave disorder. So Roger decided that, rather than make a long detour round their left flank, he would risk approaching the mountains direct in the neighbourhood of Tolosa, which lay half-way between Pamplona and San Sebastian.
His first day’
s ride proved extremely fatiguing, as the heat was torrid, and he gained only temporary relief by resting for two hours in the shade of a wood during the early afternoon; but by evening he was well up into the foothills of the mountains. As the sun was setting he came upon an isolated farmhouse and, on learning that he was an Englishman, the owner willingly gave him a meal and a bed for the night.
By midday the next day, in a much more pleasant climate, he entered a pass high up in the mountains. He was halted there by the most advanced of the numerous Allied patrols that had stopped him, and ordered to show his papers. The troops were Spaniards recently embodied from what had previously been a guerrilla band, and their leader, now an officer, gave him useful information about the situation of the French units on the far side of the pass.
Shortly before reaching the highest point in the pass he came upon a side track leading into an area of large, tumbled rocks. Having made his way along the path for a few hundred yards, he tethered the horses, ate a picnic meal; then, hidden by big boulders, unpacked his valise and changed into the French Colonel’s uniform. As he had no further use for his civilian clothes, he buried them under a pile of shale, and he abandoned his spare horse, since having it would conflict with the story he meant to tell on reaching the French lines. He remounted his own horse, returned to the rough road through the pass and proceeded on his way.
It was not until nearly an hour later, on rounding a corner of the downward slope, that he encountered a French vedette. It consisted only of a sergeant and four men. They were naturally greatly surprised to see a senior French officer alone up there in the mountains; but he told them that he had succeeded by night in getting through the British who were besieging San Sebastian, and was on his way to King Joseph’s headquarters, with an urgent plea that the King should attempt to relieve the city, otherwise it must soon surrender. The sergeant willingly gave him directions on how to reach the nearest main road, and by nightfall he entered Bayonne.
At headquarters there Roger learned that the Emperor, infuriated by his brother’s defeat at Vittoria, had recalled both the King and Marshal Jourdan in disgrace, and, in July sent Soult post-haste back from Germany to resume command of the army now defending the Pyrenees. This could, Roger felt, be bad news for Wellington when he received it, for after Davout and Masséna, Soult was considered to be the most able of the Marshals and, as a strategist, could be counted on to make the Allied invasion of France much more difficult than would one of the braver but less brainy Marshals, such as Ney or Augereau.
The Duc de Dalmatia was not at his H.Q., as he had gone up country with his staff to make a personal reconnaissance before launching a new offensive; but the able General Clausel, whom Roger had met on numerous occasions, was there. Roger told him the story of having been caught in San Sebastian, and his success in having got by night through the British lines, in the hope of securing aid for the beleaguered city. The lie provided yet another episode to support the legend in the French Army which had led to his becoming known as ‘le brave Breuc,’ and Clausel praised his courage, but said there was little hope of relieving San Sebastian unless the Marshal Duke’s projected offensive proved successful.
Clausel had no news of the situation in northern Europe. As far as he knew, the armistice agreed at Pläswitz, which had been reinforced by the Treaty of Reichenbach later in June, still continued and, in view of Roger’s reputation, he asked him to remain in a post on his staff. But Roger replied that only circumstances over which he had had no control had compelled him to remain in Spain, and now that he had got out of that miserable country it was his duty, as one of the Emperor’s A.D.C.s, to return to him.
That night, at dinner in the headquarters Mess, he met several old acquaintances, and passed an enjoyable evening. Then he set off again early the next morning, on the road to Paris. He had travelled it several times before, so knew well the cities through which he passed: Bordeaux, Angoulême, Poitiers, Tours and Orleans. There being no urgent necessity for speed, he did not tire himself unduly, and was content to cover an average of something over fifty miles a day. This gave him ample opportunity to observe conditions in the cities and the countryside along the way, and he found them deplorable.
In his youth, before the Revolution, and even after it during the Directory, the Consulate and the early years of the Empire, the towns had been a bustle of healthy people, going eagerly about their business; fat, jolly women behind market stalls heaped high with produce, the narrow streets jammed with carriages, wagons and horsemen; while in the fields and vineyards sturdy men worked and chaffed beside buxom peasant girls; there were herds of fat cattle and goats, big piggeries and many haystacks.
Now the population of the urban areas was old, slow-moving and looked half-starved. The only young males among them were one-legged, hobbling along on crutches, blind and tapping their way along with a stick, or with bodies hideously distorted by war wounds. In the streets there were no carriages, few wagons and no horsemen, while two-thirds of the market stalls were empty. Between the towns things were little better. Only cripples and greybeards now worked in the fields beside the women. The herds were gone, all but a few scraggy cattle and horses had been commandeered, and not more than once in a mile could a haystack be seen.
To this terrible state, by his insatiable lust for power had the Corsican brigand reduced the once fair land of France.
On Thursday, August 14th, Roger reached Paris, and rode straight to Talleyrand’s great mansion in the Rue St. Florentin. He arrived there just before six o’clock in the evening. As that was a favourite hour for gallants to dally with ladies they wished to seduce in their boudoirs, and knowing the brilliant statesman’s insatiable zest for amorous encounters, Roger feared he might be engaged. But that did not prove to be the case. His Exalted Highness Charles Maurice de Périgord, Prince de Benevent, Vice Grand Elector of the Empire, was at home and, on Roger’s name being brought to him, at once ordered the footman to show him ill.
Talleyrand was at this time fifty-nine years of age. As the eldest son of an ancient, princely family, he would normally have gone into the Army, but an accident while still a child had lamed him for life, and led to his being made to go into the Church. Few men could have been less fitted for the priesthood, as he was venal and so licentious that he was reputed to have slept with scores of the loveliest ladies at the Court of Versailles. That had not prevented his becoming Bishop of Autun, and a leading figure among those who brought about the liberal revolution of 1789. He was among the first to defy the Pope and adhere to the new French National Church, but with the coming of the Terror he was forced to go into exile, first in England then in the United States. From that time he threw off even the pretence of being a Churchman, and later married.
Never having been officially listed as an émigré, he was able to return to France soon after the fall of Robespierre and, under the Directory, began his brilliant career as the manipulator of France’s foreign policy. Although Paris was then still dominated by the new ideas brought in by the Revolution, he contemptuously refused to conform, continued to dress in silks and satins, wore his hair powdered and lived again as a great noble.
By ’99 France was bankrupt and the whole country in a hopeless state of disorder. Realising that solvency and law and order could be restored only by government under a strong dictator led to his conspiring with the redoubtable Fouché to bring about the coup d’état of Brumaire, which led to young General Bonaparte being made First Consul on his return from Egypt. For the greater part of the ten years that followed Talleyrand, as Foreign Minister, and Fouché, as Chief of Police, had been, after Napoleon, the most powerful men in France.
To begin with, Napoleon, knowing nothing of foreign policy, had allowed himself to be guided by Talleyrand; but as the years passed, the Emperor had become ever more convinced of his own omnipotence, and had acted contrary to his Minister’s advice. He had, as Talleyrand had believed he would, brought order out of chaos; but, again and again he r
efused all opportunities to make peace, and Talleyrand saw that, having restored France, he was now destroying her by his ceaseless wars waged for his own aggrandisement. In consequence, in 1807 he had resigned his portfolio and refused to serve the Emperor further.
Nevertheless, Napoleon was so bewitched by Talleyrand’s genius for statescraft that, having made him a Prince and one of the six Great Dignitaries of the Empire, he continued to consult him on all important questions.
Talleyrand had known Roger ever since he had first come to Paris as the youthful secretary to the Marquis de Rochambeau. In those pre-revolutionary days the Abbé, as he then was—although he had already taken to wearing the lay clothes of a Court exquisite—lived in a small house in the suburb of Passey. After an attack by footpads, Roger had been carried there unconscious, and his babblings had revealed the fact that he was an Englishman. A friendship had sprung up between them and, several years later, it was Roger who had secured the papers that had enabled Talleyrand to escape the guillotine and get safely out of France.
That was one reason why, still later, even when Roger had re-appeared in Paris as an A.D.C. to Napoleon, Talleyrand had kept it secret that Roger was the son of a British Admiral. But there was also another reason. From the very beginning, the great statesman had held the conviction that there could be no lasting peace in Europe unless France and Britain ceased their long enmity and became allies—a belief that Roger fully shared. To that end Talleyrand had ever worked secretly and consistently, and he had astutely decided that if Roger was a secret agent the damage he could do France was outweighed by his usefulness as an abettor of his own intrigues; as had proved the case at the time of the coup d’état. More recently, when he had secured actual proof that Roger was a spy, he had still refrained from denouncing him because, when at last the Emperor’s downfall could be brought about, Roger would prove a trustworthy go-between to vouch for it to the British Government that he, Talleyrand, had contributed to that fall and was the most suitable man to guide France into an entente cordiale with Britain.
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