The Irish Witch

by Dennis Wheatley

  22

  Un Cri de Cœur

  On March 28th a meeting of the Imperial Council was called to debate the question of whether, now that the enemy was approaching the capital, the Empress, her son and King Joseph should or should not leave it. Six weeks earlier the Emperor had written from Nogent that if Paris was in danger they should retire via Rambouillet to Blois, taking with them the Great Dignitaries and Ministers. General Clarke, the Minister of War, stated that the garrison of Paris was incapable of resisting the enemy, so departure was decided upon.

  The decision placed Talleyrand in a very awkward position. As a Great Dignitary he should leave with the rest, otherwise he would have defied the Emperor, and he was loath yet to come out into the open. On the other hand he was determined to remain in Paris, otherwise he would be deprived of all chance of influencing events in the way he wished them to go.

  With his usual foresight he prepared a way out of this annoying dilemma. He drove in his coach to the Porte de la Conference, with the apparent intention of going to Rambouillet. But he was stopped at the gate by M. de Remusat, who was in command of the National Guard there, and refused permission to leave the city—a delightful little farce which had been arranged by these two friends the previous evening.

  By this time the Russians had reached Montreuil where, with the remnants of their corps, Marmont and Moncey were putting up a last desperate resistance; but it was now plain to everyone that the entry of the enemy into the capital could not be long delayed.

  That day, after his usual reception of a number of friends who were always to be found in the main hall of his mansion, Talleyrand drew Roger aside, into the small library, closed the door and said:

  ‘Although I have not yet definitely committed myself to the Bourbons, you and I are agreed that the best hope of securing peace and prosperity for France lies in the restoration to the throne of the legitimate heir. But whether this can be achieved still remains far from certain. In my view, everything now hangs upon the Czar, Once he can be won over he will overrule his less powerful fellow Monarchs; but to influence him I must have ready access to him when he arrives in Paris. Now, at last, has come the moment when your help can immensely strengthen our chances of bringing about the situation we both desire. I wish you to take a letter to him.’

  Roger nodded. ‘There should be no great difficulty in doing so, if I approach the Allied troops under a flag of truce. What do you intend to say in your letter?’

  Taking the letter from a drawer in the desk, the Prince handed it to him with a smile. ‘I have had it from my friend, Count Nesselrode, his Minister of Foreign Affairs, that His Imperial Majesty intends to take up his quarters in the Elysée Palace. I have told him that this is also known to his enemies, and that they have mined the palace, with the intention of blowing him up. I have then said that my house is quite large enough to accommodate him and his personal entourage, and I humbly offer it to him as a residence in which I can guarantee his safety while in Paris.’

  ‘I congratulate Your Highness upon this extraordinarily astute move,’ Roger smiled back. ‘And, I should have no difficulty in reaching the Czar through Count Nesselrode’s good offices. I knew him when he was Russian Ambassador here. Now I will be off.’

  Before leaving he got from one of the footmen a white napkin and tied it to a malacca cane, to use as a flag of truce; then, in one of Talleyrand’s carriages he drove toward Montmartre. From the heights there the smoke from the battle and formations of soldiers could clearly be seen, but in some sections there seemed to be little action. Roger directed his coachman toward one of those and when he showed his white flag he was allowed to pass through the lines. A Russian officer who spoke French gave him an escort to take him to the Czar’s headquarters, which was only a few miles further on, and by early afternoon he reached them.

  After waiting for a while he was taken to Count Nesselrode, who greeted him politely as an old acquaintance. From the Count Roger learned that several of the French Generals had already capitulated, and it was hoped that Marshal Marmont could be persuaded to surrender the city, as that would save the inhabitants from the horrors of street fighting. Roger then disclosed the contents of Talleyrand’s letter. At that Nesselrode’s mouth twitched in a smile and he remarked:

  ‘His Highness the Prince de Benevent is a monstrous clever fellow. Come with me and I will present you to His Imperial Majesty.’

  When Roger had made his bow, the tall, handsome, curly-haired Alexander raised an eyebrow and said, ‘It seems that you have a genius, Mr. Brook, for always popping up, as you English say of a bad penny, when least expected.’

  ‘Perhaps, Sire, but I hope your Imperial Majesty does not liken me to one,’ Roger replied with a smile.

  ‘Nay.’ The Czar extended his hand for Roger to kiss. ‘There have been times when you have served us well. However, we had hoped that from Moscow you would return to St. Petersburg, bringing us intelligence of Napoleon’s intentions.’

  ‘Alas, Sire, I would I could have, and so been saved from starving near to death in your Russian snows. But the retreat was decided upon within hours of my rejoining the Emperor, and I became caught up in it.’

  ‘And now, what brings you here? Surely not only to tell us that Paris is as good as ours?’

  Nesselrode produced the letter. ‘Mr. Brook brought this from the Prince de Benevent, Sire. Have I your permission to open it?’

  ‘Do so, Count, and read the contents to us.’

  When he had listened to the letter, Alexander asked, ‘What is your opinion about this?’

  ‘I would advise Your Imperial Majesty to accept the Prince’s offer. His mansion is commodious and you could reside there in greater comfort than in many palaces. There is also the fact that, now King Joseph has fled, Talleyrand has become the most powerful man in Paris. He will have great influence with the Senate, and if you deign to accord him your friendship, he can do much to further your Imperial Majesty’s designs.’

  ‘So be it, then.’ The handsome autocrat turned to Roger. ‘We thank you, Mr. Brook, for bringing us the Prince’s offer of his house. You may tell him that it is our pleasure to honour it by our acceptance.’

  Roger bowed himself away, and by five o’clock was back in Paris. He found the mansion in the Rue St. Florentin crowded with people; not only Tallyrand’s friends, such as the Duc de Dalberg who, although holding a post in Napoleon’s government was secretly a Royalist and had brought about the meetings between the Prince and d’Artois’s agent, the Baron de Vitrolles, but many important men who for a long time past had thought it dangerous to associate themselves with the crafty statesman. Immediately it had become known that the Council of Regency had fled from Paris, Talleyrand had become the man of the hour and everyone was eager to stand well with him.

  Forcing his way through the crush toward him, Roger simply smiled and nodded. Returning the smile Talleyrand said in a low voice, ‘France will owe you much, mon ami. The game is now as good as in our hands.’

  Next morning the house was equally crowded and Roger learned from the Abbé du Pradt, another of Talleyrand’s intimates, that a mansion in the Rue de Paradis was the scene of equal excitement, with cheering crowds outside in the street. It was that of Marshal Marmont. A few hours earlier he had received Count Nesselrode, Prince Orlof and Schwarzenberg’s chief adjutant at one of the gates of Paris, and signed a surrender of the city. Instead of bewailing this humiliation, the fickle Parisians were acclaiming the Marshal as though he had won a great victory. They were to be spared the killings, the looting, the rape that had been the terrible lot of the inhabitants of the many great cities that the French troops had sacked without mercy. To render thanks to God was not enough, the population went delirious with joy.

  Meanwhile, Napoleon was distraught by the ill news that he was receiving from courier after courier. He had twice sent urgent despatches to Augereau requiring him to bring his army up from Lyon to aid in the defence of Paris, but the Marshal had
ignored the order. Instead he had surrendered Lyon, and so betrayed his master. Napoleon’s own contempt for Schwarzenberg had undone him and the Allies were within a league of Paris. Not only had his beloved wife and son fled, but his brother Joseph, who should have remained to hold Paris, had betrayed him and gone with them; although, under determined leadership the many thousand National Guards in the city could have held it, at least until he arrived to their relief.

  Still refusing to consider himself beaten, he turned his army about. By incredible exertions, on the 29th it re-entered Troyes, next day it reached Fontainebleau. Late at night on the 30th he actually came in sight of the camp fires of Marmont’s troops, only to be utterly stricken by the news that their Marshal, too, had turned traitor and surrendered.

  At ten o’clock on the morning of the 31st the Czar Alexander, with Francis of Austria and Frederick William of Prussia on either side of him, rode triumphantly down the Champs Elysées into Paris. The bulk of the city’s population had hastily donned the White Cockade and groups of Royalists shouted ‘Long live the Bourbons’.

  On the Czar’s arrival in the Rue St. Florentin Talleyrand, according to protocol, handed his mansion and its contents over to His Imperial Majesty who thanked him graciously and proceeded to settle in with his entourage. When the rooms had been satisfactorily allocated Talleyrand had the opportunity that he had so skilfully schemed for of a private conversation with Alexander.

  The Czar announced that he wished the French to choose their own form of government by a plebiscite; but Talleyrand pointed out that this would take many weeks, and that they already had in the Senate a body representing the people.

  Alexander expressed concern that the Senate might opt for a return to a Republic; whereas he, his fellow sovereigns and Lord Castlereagh all favoured France’s becoming a limited monarchy.

  Talleyrand assured him that he could control the extremists, so the only question that remained was whose name should be put forward to the Senate as the future King of France.

  ‘The Emperor Francis,’ said Alexander, ‘would naturally like his grandson to assume that title, with his daughter, Marie Louise, as Regent.’

  ‘Sire’, Talleyrand replied. ‘With a member of the Bonaparte dynasty on the throne, Napoleon would remain, for all practical purposes the ruling power and, wherever he might be, dictate the policy of France.’

  ‘You are right, and on those grounds the rest of us have already expressed our objections to Metternich. What think you though of Prince Eugène?’

  ‘As Napoleon’s step-son and a man who had always displayed great devotion to him, the same objection applies, Sire.’

  ‘Bernadotte, then. As Crown Prince of Sweden, he has shown himself to be a most capable administrator as well as a very able General.’

  Talleyrand smiled. ‘If we wanted a soldier to rule us, Sire, we already have the greatest one in the world.’

  ‘The only alternative with which we are left seems to be the Bourbons,’ the Czar remarked with obvious reluctance. ‘But we do not like them, and neither do the French people. The Duc d’Angoulême has been well received in Bordeaux, but during the passage of our armies through eastern France we saw not a sign of anyone desiring a Restoration. And can one wonder at that? These stupid, arrogant Princes have learned nothing during their twenty years of exile. They and their émigré nobility would at once strive to secure their ancient privileges, batten on the people and again earn their hatred by the suppression of liberty.’

  ‘Permit me to submit, Sire,’ Talleyrand replied suavely, ‘that while your description of the Princes well fits the frivolous Comte d’Artois, it cannot fairly be applied to his elder brother, who would become King Louis XVIII. In the old days at Versailles, when he was known as the Comte de Provence, although our tastes were somewhat divergent, I had ample evidence of his character. He is far from a fool. He was knowledgeable about scientific matters and a talented geographer. He is a man of peace and tact. He would, I am convinced, grant a liberal constitution fully protecting the people’s liberties and make an excellent ruler.

  ‘Moreover, I beg leave to differ from Your Imperial Majesty in your assessment of the French people. The French Army is more devoted to its own glory than to Napoleon. The whole nation longs for peace and can find it only under the old dynasty.

  ‘Finally, Sire, surely anyone so well-versed in statescraft as yourself must agree that we should be guided by a principle, and in this case it is legitimacy. The legitimate King of France is Louis XVIII.’

  The Czar nodded thoughtfully. ‘There is much in what you say, Prince. We will think over the matter, and discuss it with our allies.’

  That evening there gathered round a long table the Czar and Nesselrode, the King of Prussia and his First Minister Hardenberg, the Princes Schwarzenberg and Lichenstein, representing the Emperor of Austria, and Talleyrand and Dalberg to speak for the Bourbons. At small side tables sat secretaries to take notes, the Marquis de Joucourt and Roger acting for Talleyrand.

  Alexander opened the proceedings by declaring that they had a choice of three possible courses: they could make peace with Napoleon, make Marie Louise Regent for her son, or restore the Bourbons. The first, he said, they had already agreed to be unacceptable, the second might lead to Napoleon continuing to influence events but the third was a possibility to which he was prepared to agree, provided that it was the will of France. He then called on the Prince de Benevent to put the case for the Bourbons.

  Talleyrand did so with all his persuasive powers, and his arguments were accepted without dispute.

  Next day a proclamation, signed by Alexander on behalf of the Allied Powers, was issued, inviting the Senate to appoint a Provisional Government. Talleyrand, as Vice Grand Elector, summoned the Senate. Only sixty-four out of the one hundred and forty attended this momentous gathering, and the Prince had no difficulty in securing their agreement to his proposals. A Provisional Government of five was formed, with him as its leader. On April 2nd the Senate and the Corps Legislative passed motions that Napoleon was deposed. On the 3rd the Provisional Government published an ‘Address to the French Armies’, urging them to separate from ‘a man who is not even French’.

  But Napoleon was still far from finished. At Fontainebleau during the past week he had succeeded in amassing from many quarters an army of sixty thousand men. On the 4th, when the news arrived that he had been deposed, he had a furious scene with his Marshals. Led by Ney they argued heatedly with him, insisting that to continue the war was futile, and eventually persuaded him to sign a form of abdication with which Caulaincourt was sent off to the Czar. But while it contained his agreement to relinquish the throne and leave France, it stipulated that the Empress should remain as Regent for his son.

  The decision already reached by the Allies made this unacceptable. Caulaincourt had to return and tell Napoleon so. This aroused in him a renewed burst of energy and fierce determination to fight to the bitter end. Orders were issued in all directions to prepare anew for a march on Paris.

  Talleyrand received news of this in the middle of the night. The Provisional Government of five now held its sessions on the ground floor of the mansion; the first floor was occupied by the Czar and his entourage; so Roger had had to move up to an attic. Going up to it, the Prince woke Roger, told him what was about to happen and said:

  ‘Mon ami, I ask one more service of you. Go to Napoleon. If you tell him what you have recently seen in Paris with your own eyes, he will believe you. Tell him that Schwarzenberg has one hundred and forty thousand troops surrounding the city. That Marmont’s men are now fraternising with those of his enemies and will take up arms against him. That the National Guard here now wear the White Cockade. That if he carries out his insane plan to march on Paris it will mean civil war. In your dissuading him from entering on further hostilities lies our one hope now of saving many thousand lives.’

  Reluctantly Roger consented. It was getting on for three months since he had seen Napoleon,
so he no longer had to pretend to acute lameness, and had gradually given up aids to walking, using now only occasionally a stick for the sake of appearances. In the early hours of the morning he set off in a light barouche for Fontainebleau, and arrived there soon after seven o’clock.

  Napoleon was still asleep in bed, so Roger breakfasted in the headquarters Mess, simply telling old acquaintances who were there that, having recovered his health, he had come to offer his services: a plausible lie of which he felt ashamed, but it was readily accepted by his sadly depressed companions.

  It was half-past nine before he was at last shown in to the presence. Napoleon’s pale face was drawn with worry, and his eyes red-rimmed from lack of sleep. He greeted Roger cordially and was eager to hear the latest news from Paris, but said that he was about to receive his Marshals, so that must wait until later.

  A few minutes afterwards those of his paladins who remained with him were ushered in: Berthier, Ney, Oudinot, Lefebvre and Macdonald. With them were Caulaincourt, who had striven so desperately to secure an acceptable peace for him, and his ex-Foreign Minister, Marat, Duc de Bassano.

  Once more animated by enthusiasm he spoke to them of the coming campaign. He would lead the way in person at the head of his devoted Imperial Guard, which still numbered nine thousand men. He had a new plan. They would strike south, by-pass Schwarzenberg’s Austrians round Paris, march to the Loire, then join up with the armies of Suchet and Soult. His own sixty thousand together with their troops would again give him two hundred thousand men.

  His audience heard him out in gloomy silence. Then they began to upbraid him for demanding further sacrifices in a cause now completely lost. Macdonald, who had just arrived with his weary corps, said, ‘Our horses can go no further, we have not enough ammunition left for a single skirmish, and no means of obtaining more.’