To achieve this, he had attempted to bring Fox into his Cabinet, which had cost him a renewal of Grenville's allegiance, then the King had refused to accept Fox as a Minister. The Portland Whigs supported Pitt but, to keep a balance, he had to include in his Cabinet Hawkesbury and several other incompetents from Addington's old followers, with the result that, on average, his new colleagues were much inferior to those who had worked with him in his former administration.
Soon after he had again become Prime Minister there had occurred another split in the Tory party. Pitt had always favoured the Abolition of the Slave Trade and, owing to the untiring efforts of his friend Wilberforce. the national conscience had at last been aroused to the inhumanity of the traffic; so Pitt had felt the time ripe to bring in an Act of Abolition. Its opponents, who had always argued that Britain could not afford to give up this lucrative commerce, particularly in time of war, immediately raised a tremendous outcry. Addington bitterly attacked the Bill, but Fox gave Pitt his support, so it was carried, although only at the price of alienating many of Pitt's old supporters.
When Roger called on the Prime Minister he was received by him after a long wait. He looked tired and harassed and spoke with sonic bitterness of the difficulties he was having in getting his measures through the House. Then, when Roger had given him such particulars as he could about the dispositions of the French Navy, he said:
'I am even more convinced than when I spoke to you of the matter at Walmcr that our one hope is to maintain our superiority over the French at sea. With that in mind, soon after I returned to office I put in hand an increased shipbuilding programme. The French Emigre General Dumouricz sent mc a long memoir upon the subject and he argued wisely that nothing is so perilous as remaining perpetually on the defensive; that our Navy should be made strong enough to go over to the attack, and that if we could make it so we would stand a much better chance of drawing other nations into a new alliance against Bonaparte.'
'What, sir,' Roger asked, 'are our present prospects of doing so?'
'Encouraging, to say the least. The foul murder of the Due d'Enghicn has helped us there. Before that the Czar was inclined to admire Bonaparte for the new internal peace and prosperity he has brought to France; but since then he has declared him to be a monster in human form who will stick at nothing for his own aggrandisement, and so must be checked. Can we but persuade him to come in with us, we may then count upon Gustavus of Sweden also to take up arms against the French. Given those two we would have good hopes of also drawing Austria into a new Coalition; and I am now in friendly correspondence with all three monarchs to that end. I am, though, much concerned about the attitude of Spain. Not only has she blackmailed our old ally Portugal into closing her ports against us but she is paying Bonaparte a huge subsidy which is of great assistance to him. That, she can continue to do only so long as her treasure ships from America are freely allowed to enter Cadiz. Since she continues to ignore our protests that she is infringing her neutrality by providing Bonaparte with the sinews of war, I have recently given orders that her ports are to be blockaded.'
Roger raised his eyebrows, 'Is that wise, sir? Surely it would be sounder policy to let Napoleon continue to receive these supplies of Spanish gold, rather than risk Spain entering the war actively against us.'
'She will not fight,' Mr. Pitt asserted with conviction. 'It is not without reason that her Prime Minister, Godoy, has been christened "Prince of Peace," and he is as slippery as an eel. Should we take any of their ships we'll not rob them of their bullion; only hold it for them, and thus give him an excuse to resist any pressure Bonaparte may exert upon him to act against us.'
While Roger had a poor opinion of Mr. Pitt's capabilities as a strategist, he had a great admiration for his financial genius, and it was obvious that holding up the Spanish treasure ships would make it difficult for the French Treasury to find the vast sums needed to pay Napoleon's army; so he said no more. For a further half hour they talked of other matters, then he took his leave.
Next morning he bought a variety of toys and in the afternoon drove down to Stillwaters to sec the children. On arriving he found Colonel Thursby there and at once enquired about Georgina, but the Colonel could tell him little more than he had learned from Droopy Ned and, with tears in his eyes, the old gentleman said that as no news of her or the 'Enterprise' had been received by midsummer he had since reconciled himself to the thought that she must be dead.
Previously the Colonel had made only frequent visits to Stillwaters, spending the rest of the year either at his old home near Lymington or at his house in Bedford Square, but Roger was greatly pleased to learn that, in order to help Aunt Marsham bring up the children, he had now decided to make Stillwaters his permanent home.
That night after dinner, when Aunt Marsham had left them to their port, they talked again of Georgina. She had taken to the Indies with her a Mr. and Mrs. Skiflington, who were old friends, and the handsome young Lord Rockhurst who, knowing her so well, Roger assumed to have been her lover at that time. No news had been received of them, nor of any of the crew of 'Enterprise', so it seemed that the ship must have gone down with all hands.
Legally, Georgina's death could not be presumed for some years, but the family solicitors had shown her father her Will. She had left Stillwaters to little Charles, a legacy of £50,000 and most of her jewels to Susan, the contents of her library to her father should he be living at the date of her death, £5,000 each to her faithful Jenny and Aunt Marsham and numerous smaller legacies to other friends and servants. To Roger she had left her paintings, her horses, any of her personal possessions he chose to select and her hair.
By her last bequest Roger was deeply touched and, as the Will was a recent one made shortly before she sailed, it was clear that by then she must have regretted her betrayal of him and again thought of him with great tenderness. As the Colonel made no mention of that dark day when she had nearly caused Roger to be re-arrested, he refrained from speaking of it.
He remained at Stillwaters for a week, spending most of each day playing with the children. While doing so, or talking with the Colonel, his mind was occupied; but every room, the hothouses, the stables and every corner of the gardens held memories of Georgina and these saddened him so much that, although the Colonel pressed him to stay longer, he excused himself as having business to attend to and was glad to get away.
But in London he had no business; the weather had turned cold and rainy and the more he heard of the way in which Mr. Pitt was being hampered by his political enemies in his endeavours to conduct the war, the more depressed he became. So, after a few days spent with Droopy Ned, he decided to return to France and enjoy some weeks of sunshine at St. Maxime.
On September 23rd he caught the night coach to Exeter and two evenings later was in Sidmouth, tactfully sounding the landlord of the local inn about the prospects of getting a passage to France. He had to kick his heels there for six days, then the French smuggler who had put him over came in with another cargo and on October 1st landed him back at Bordeaux.
From there, by diligence, he followed the same route as he had on his stolen honeymoon with the gay and wanton Pauline, and passing again through the towns on that route he was frequently reminded of that happy journey. On reaching Aix-en-Provence it chanced that he got news of her as a result of reading a copy of Le Moniteur. It was reported that she had recently lost her son Dermid. Continued poor health had caused her to move from spa to spa in the hope of a cure, and she had been at Bagni di Lucca, when she learned that the frail little boy had been carried off by a sudden fever.
Roger felt deep sympathy for her; but she now meant no more to him than any of the other lovely women he had enjoyed for a brief season, and he thought of her only as an old friend. Georgina had been the only abiding love of his life and, although there had been times when they had been separated for years at a stretch, the thought that he could never more return to her continued to cause him a grief tha
t he felt he would never overcome.
On October 8th he reached St. Maxime and spent the next seven weeks there idling in the autumn sunshine. Daily he went for long rides or walks but only because it had been his habit of a lifetime to keep himself in perfect physical condition. Since Droopy had confirmed his fears about Georgina he had become a prey to a curious lassitude and lacked the urge to interest himself in anything; so it was only with an effort that he forced himself on November 20th to set out for Paris in order to keep his promise to be present at Napoleon's coronation.
When he reached the capital he learned that the Emperor was at Fontaineblcau, so next day he rode on there and found the little town swarming with busy people. Two days earlier Pope Pius VII, lured by promises of concessions to the Roman Catholic Church in France, which Napoleon had no intention of fulfilling, had arrived there. To avoid any ceremonial reception in which he might appear to be taking second place, Napoleon had arranged a hunt in the forest then, apparently by chance, intercepted the Pontiff's carriage a few miles from the Palace.
The last time Roger had been at Fontaineblcau King Louis and Queen Marie Antoinette had been in residence; but gracious and colourful as their Court had been, it paled beside the splendour of that of the new monarch. Having lodged his baggage in an attic room already occupied by two other A.D.C.s, Roger had to exercise all his patience that evening in worming his way through the press of dignitaries, Marshals, Ambassadors and prelates to present himself.
Not long after the Imperial couple had withdrawn, Madame de Rcmusct, Josephine's. First lady in Waiting, managed to find him and told him that her mistress wished to sec him. She then took him down to a small boudoir on the ground floor where Josephine was reclining on a day bed.
As soon as they were alone, she said. T am so glad you have returned to us, mon cher Colonel. You have ever been my friend and I sadly need the advice of someone I can trust.'
Smiling, he assured her of his devotion, then she made him sit down and went on, 'You were largely instrumental in bringing about my marriage to Bonaparte and you will recall that it was a civil marriage. Moreover, although I blush to confess it, I falsified my age, so that I should not appear to be older than the Emperor. On either count he. could, if he wished, put me from him.'
'But why should he. Your Majesty?' Roger asked. 'Between us it is no secret that he has his peccadilloes, but they never last, and he is devoted to you.'
She sighed, 'It is this awful question of the succession. As you have been absent for so long you may not be aware of the situation. My hateful in-laws have fought for months like a pack of wolves over it, but at last it has been settled. Joseph, Lucien, Louis and Jerome have all been passed over, and it has now been vested in the natural or adopted son of Napoleon.'
'I see. And you are troubled because you have not yet provided him with an heir.'
'Alas, yes. And I fear now that I shall never do so. I have tried every nostrum that the doctors can propose but they have proved of no avail.'
'It can be no fault of yours. Madame, for you have had two fine children by your previous marriage, Eugene and Mortense. Since he has proved incapable of begetting a child.
'There is no proof of that,' she put in quickly. 'You may perhaps recall my reader Madame Duchatel. His affaire with her has caused me more tears than any of his others. I was even fool enough to break in upon them one evening when they were together in the room over the Orangery at St. Cloud. His rage was terrible. He declared that he was a man apart and a law unto himself; so that afterwards I almost felt that I was the guilty party. 'Tis rumoured that she is with child. Since she entered my service she lives apart from her old husband and, before she set her cap at Napoleon she was such a paragon of virtue that if she does have a child he will certainly believe it to be his.'
Her mention of Madame Duchatel swiftly recalled to Roger the fateful night on which d'Enghien had been executed. It was she who had been in Napoleon's bed when he had forced his way into the room above the Orangery. After a moment he said:
'But, Madame, even if she does give the Emperor a natural son he would never put you aside in order to take one of your ladies as his wife.'
'No, no,' replied Josephine hastily. 'I have no fear of that. And as a mistress for him she is certainly to be preferred to that horrid, grasping de Vaudry woman with whom he started an affaire while we were at Aix-la-Chapelle. My danger lies in the possibility of his proving to his own satisfaction that he is, after all, capable of becoming a father. Since my marriage to him is not valid in the eyes of the Church, he might repudiate me so that he could take to wife some young woman of Royal blood, thereby both elevating himself in the eyes of other monarchs and with the hope of getting a legitimate son by her.'
'Has he... er... given you any indication that he might take such a step?' Roger enquired diffidently.
'Praise be to God, no. But his horrid family are urging him to do so.'
For a moment Roger remained thoughtful, then he said, 'Since you have sought my advice, Madame, it is that you should spare no effort to persuade him to legalize the bond between you. And now is the time. Once this question is raised His Holiness could not possibly ignore it. Should it be brought to his attention that you are not man and wife in the eyes of the Church it is certain that he could not square it with his conscience to bless you both at the Coronation ceremony. And the Emperor cannot possibly afford to risk the Pope's now refusing to officiate at it.'
'You are right. Yes, you are right. But, circumscribed as I am, how can I bring such a situation about?'
After considering again Roger replied, 'I suggest, Madame, that you should make use of Fesch. Although he is a Bonaparte he is not a bad man, and as a priest he is under an obligation to shepherd you back into the bosom of the Church. Although he must be aware that you married without its blessing he cannot refuse to hear your formal confession and aid you, as a penitent, to regularize your position. Should he refuse, you could, as a last resort, tell him that you intend to speak to His Holiness himself. But I do not think that will be necessary.'
Josephine stood up. Roger rose too. With tears in her eyes she put her hands on his shoulders, kissed him on both cheeks and murmured, 'I will do as you suggest. For your wise counsel I can never thank you enough.'
Four nights later, at the final pre-Coronation reception on December 1st, Madame de Remuset again sought out Roger in the crowded ballroom where Henri II had had the monogram of his beautiful mistress Diane de Poitiers made the motif of the inlaid floor and ceiling, and slipped a note into his hand. It was from Josephine and read:
'Bless you a thousand times. Napoleon made no difficulties
and this afternoon we were privately married by Cardinal Fesch.'
Early next morning the whole Court repaired to Paris. As Master of the Ceremonies, the Comte de Segur again excelled himself. The assembly in Notre Dame exceeded in brilliance any gathering there in the days of the anciene regime: a horde of soldiers in brilliant uniforms, Senators, Ambassadors, dignitaries and bejewelled women packed the great Cathedral. Napoleon, wearing a laurel wreath on his broad brow, clad in a gorgeous velvet robe embroidered with golden bees and wearing the sword of Charlemagne, led Josephine up to the altar.
There was only one unpleasant incident. The Bonaparte sisters, furious at having been ordered to carry Josephine's train, maliciously pulled on it as she ascended the shallow steps to the chancel and she nearly fell over backwards. But she managed to retain her balance.
Among the train bearers Roger was a little surprised to see the beautiful Pauline. Later he learned that, in order to get back to the gay life of Paris that she so dearly loved, she had used as an excuse the death of her son. She had insisted that he should be buried beside his father at Montgobert, and Napoleon had not had the heart to refuse her. But Roger now found himself gazing at her with indifference.
When the crux of the ceremony was about to take place Napoleon suddenly took the crown from the hands of the
startled Pope and crowned himself. Then among shouts of acclaim that made the lofty vault ring, he crowned Josephine.
At the reception afterwards, Roger had a few words with Pauline and expressed his sympathy at her loss of Dermid. 'It was too terrible,' she told him. 'Had I been there 'tis possible that I might have saved him. But I was suffering from the sickness that afflicts me and had had a relapse. When a courier arrived at Bagni de Lucca they thought me too ill to tell me, and by the time I had recovered it was all over.'
After a moment, she added with a smile, 'But I am over the shock now and back in dear Paris. You must come to see me.'
He returned her smile and thanked her, but he had no intention of accepting her invitation. As he bowed himself away, he wondered if he would ever again want to make love to a woman. The long succession of them through the years had been only substitutes for Georgina, and it seemed that, somehow, her death had destroyed in him all desire to make love.
Soon after the Coronation there came a new development in the European situation that gave him great concern for Britain. While at Stillwaters he had learned that early in October Mr. Pitt's instructions had been carried out and the Admiralty had despatched four frigates to intercept the Spanish treasure ships. When they appeared, the Spanish squadron consisted of four slightly smaller frigates and, numbers being even, the gallant Spanish commander refused to surrender. During the ensuing fight one of the Spanish ships blew up and only then did the other three lower their colours.
Clearly the Admiralty had blundered badly in not having sent a larger force which the Spaniards would have decided they had no hope of resisting. But the damage had been done. Britain was indignantly accused of having committed both an act of war against a nation with whom she was at peace, and piracy. Godoy, as Mr. Pitt had anticipated, had done his utmost to avoid making this a cause for hostilities but the British Prime Minister had left Napoleon out of his calculations.
The Emperor had insisted that Spain must fight. Godoy had still resisted. Determined to make him, Napoleon had then charged Spain with being unfriendly to France, and had threatened to send an army to invade the Peninsula. The Spaniards had caved in and, on December 12th, declared war on Britain.
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