‘You imply that you have taken out naturalisation papers. How wise of you. When did you do that?’
‘I have not done so. Such a step would result in endless fuss. Meanwhile, I would probably be deprived of the right to serve the country of my adoption.’
‘That, from what I have learned in the past few days, would be a grievous loss. General Bonaparte thinks very highly of you.’
‘I am most gratified to hear it. I have the greatest admiration for his talents and am devoted to him.’
‘Yes, he has an amazing capacity for inspiring devotion,’ Talleyrand agreed. ‘Shortly after I took office he sent Monge—you remember Monge, the scientist and the last Minister of the Navy under our late King—back from Italy with Berthier, to report on his intentions with regard to the future of northern Italy. I was immensely impressed by the way in which they spoke of him. After talking with them I came to the conclusion that here at last was the man France needed to rid us of these incompetent rogues who now govern the country and to make her once again respected among the nations. I then wrote to him, offering him my friendship and my support in any measures he might propose for the betterment of our affairs.’
‘I know,’ smiled Roger. ‘I read your letter, I was much amused by the flattery you used to tickle his vanity and win him as your ally. I even recall your most telling phrase: “In our negotiations the very name of Bonaparte is a help that should smooth over all our difficulties.”’
For the fraction of a second Talleyrand, arch-diplomatist though he was, disclosed that he was taken aback. ‘You … saw my letter? Pray, how did that come about?’
‘It so happens,’ Roger replied lightly, ‘that I am not only accounted a passable swordsman—an attribute that I share with the majority of Bonaparte’s other Staff officers—but I am also capable of drafting a lucid despatch, or making a reliable précis of a long report. Most of these bravos would rather face charging cavalry than undertake such work; so Bonaparte employed me while at Montebello as an assistant to Bourrienne.’
Talleyrand slowly drank a little of the superb claret, then he murmured, ‘Then you are privy to all our secrets?’
‘Certainly, my dear Minister, and I have deserved this confidence. Moreover, as we have long been allies with no secrets from one another, I will let you into a confidence that I would disclose to no one else. Bonaparte never had any intention of making a descent on England this year, and he is set on leading an Army to win glory in the East.’
It was Talleyrand’s turn to smile. ‘I am already aware of that, and gather it has long been his ambition. In fact, I have done my best to smooth his path to its accomplishment. As far back as July I addressed a memorandum to the Institute, pointing out France’s need for colonies and urging that, since we had lost nearly all our possessions in the West Indies to the British, we should now turn our eyes east and make a bid for a great part of the decaying Ottoman Empire. I have since made two confidential reports to the Directors, one on January 28th and another as recently as February 15th in which I have pointed to Egypt as the vulnerable spot because, although they are technically subject to the Sultan, the Mameluke Beys who rule there flout his authority and so might be subdued by France with the Sultan’s connivance.’
Roger shook his head. ‘To me it sounds a crazy project. Bonaparte might well find himself cut off there, and from lack of supplies have his whole Army founder in the desert sands, as happened with Cambyrer the Persian. As far as I personally am concerned, I’ll have no part in it. Should he persuade the Directors to agree to his plan, I shall feign sickness or resort to some other ruse to evade having to accompany him.’
‘You said but now that you were devoted to him.’
‘Indeed, I am. But not to the point of risking dying of thirst without rendering him any useful service. A year ago I was in Egypt, also in India. That is a major reason for Bonaparte’s regard for me. At Montebello, having no campaign to direct and being bewitched by these countries, he made me give him descriptions of them that lasted for hours. But, having been to Egypt and seen something of its deserts, I’ve no mind to die in one of them.’
‘Why then did you further excite his imagination concerning these countries, as you obviously must have done to hold his attention for so long, rather than leave him to pursue the obvious course—a descent on England?’
‘Because anything would be preferable to that,’ Roger replied boldly. ‘The chances of getting an Army ashore with its artillery without interference by the British Navy are almost negligible. But, that apart, a direct attack upon their homeland would antagonise the English to such a degree that there could never be any reconciliation in our lifetime. And you know as well as I do that nothing short of a peace between France and Britain can bring about a permanent settlement of the upheavals that have disrupted the Continent these past eight years.’
‘You are right in that,’ Talleyrand agreed, ‘and it has ever been my ambition to bring the two nations to a friendly understanding. But you are wrong in regarding Egypt as a death-trap and supposing that its conquest would not greatly benefit France, as well as gild Bonaparte’s laurels. Once there I am confident that he would manage to establish himself; and to seize Egypt for France is no new idea. Over a hundred years ago Libniz proposed it to Louis XIV. In Louis XV’s time the Duc de Choiseul actually drew up a plan for the sending of an expedition and, only a few years before the Revolution, it was revived by Saint-Priest, who was then our Ambassador in Constantinople. Talking of which, I will let you into a little secret. I have promised Bonaparte to get myself appointed Ambassador to the Porte, with the object of persuading the Sultan to agree to France replacing the Mamelukes in Egypt.’
‘You really believe, then, that Bonaparte could succeed in maintaining himself there?’.
For a moment Talleyrand was silent, then he said thoughtfully, ‘Provided the English do not become apprised of our plan and send a Fleet into the Mediterranean, I do not see why he should not. And if he does the project should pay us immense dividends. Unlike France, whose main source of wealth lies in her agriculture, that of Britain is derived from commerce. If we held Malta and both ends of the Mediterranean we could ruin her great trade with the Levant. Moreover, consider Egypt’s geographical position. She is readily accessible from Europe and is a bridgehead into both Asia and Africa. As a base for further operations, followed by a great increase in our trade with the East, she is, therefore, invaluable. Expeditions mounted there could sweep north through Syria and overrun the huge territories of the decadent Ottoman Empire, or be despatched against India with equal ease. One can hardly put a limit to what Bonaparte may achieve if the Directory let him have his way.’
‘Do you think they will?’
‘You may count it as certain. They are terrified of him, and would consent to anything to be rid of him.’
‘They really fear, then, that he may stage a coup d’etat and throw them out?’
‘I doubt if he yet feels strong enough to attempt it. He would be content, for the moment at least, if he were made a Director. However, there is a law stipulating that no Director shall be less than forty years of age, and he is not yet twenty-nine. He is pressing for the law to be altered, but it is most unlikely they would agree to that. To have him among them would mean that they would become no more than his lackeys.’
For a moment Talleyrand paused, then he continued, ‘However, if he survives his Egyptian venture I have little doubt the day will come when he will sweep them away. His ambition is unbounded. At our first meeting he said to me, “You are a nephew of the Archbishop of Cambrai, who is now with Louis XVIII at Mitau.” Note, he referred to the royal exile not by the only title Republican France accords him—the Comte de Lille—but as “King”. Then he went on, “I also have an uncle who is an Archdeacon in Corsica. He brought me up. In Corsica, you know, an Archdeacon is the same as a Bishop in France.” I was secretly a little amused by his anxiety to show that he also was a gentleman. But the way h
e spoke gave me furiously to think. It struck me that within a year or two he may well be talking of “we nobles” and that perhaps a time might even come when he will be referring to Louis XVI as “my poor uncle”.’
Roger laughed. ‘Oh, come! That is going a little far.’
‘Well, we shall see,’ smiled the diplomat. ‘In the meantime there is another reason why the Directors must get him out of France. The war with Austria is over, and they are left with an enormous Army on their hands. They dare not disband even a half of the two hundred and fifty thousand men now under arms and allow them to return to France without pay or employment.’
‘I agree,’ Roger nodded. ‘To do so would be to invite anarchy and another revolution more bloody than the first.’
‘Then, since they cannot be sent against England, they must be employed elsewhere. Even as things are, the Government is at its wits’ end where to find the money with which to continue to pay them.’
‘What, after receiving all the hundreds of millions that Bonaparte sent the Directory from Italy?’
‘Yes. France is bankrupt. That is why General Ménard has been sent into Switzerland. A Republican Party hardly exists there. Those petitions asking for our protection are a farce and carry only a few score names. But the Swiss are a wealthy people. Incidents must be provoked, so that we have an excuse to intervene and, having presented a bill for restoring order, loot the rich treasuries of the Cantons. Thus we shall get the millions to pay our troops.’
Roger sighed. ‘What a disgraceful and revolting business! But where have all the millions gone that were looted from Italy?’
‘No doubt you have been to one of Barras’s receptions at the Luxembourg. They take place every night. Scores of other Government officials have poured the money away to only a slightly less degree. Then there are the Army contractors. They are like a swarm of locusts and the whole administration leaks gold like one vast sieve.’
With a little smile, Talleyrand went on, ‘In this I am happy to think that my own hands are clean. Immediately I was appointed Foreign Minister I determined to make my fortune out of the post, because to live well is the breath of life to me. And I’m doing none too badly. But at no cost to France. I take only foreign money, for greasing the wheels in our negotiations with foreign Powers. That is a perquisite which Foreign Ministers in every country have always enjoyed.’
For a moment they were silent, then Talleyrand said casually, ‘But about yourself, my dear fellow. How long is it since you decided to become a Frenchman?’
Roger knew that the critical moment had come, but he answered with equal casualness. ‘Quite recently. Last autumn, in fact. You will recall that when first we met I told you of how I had run away from home to France, rather than enter the Navy as my father wished. For that he has never forgiven me. In consequence, I have neither patronage nor fortune in England. In ’94 I decided to try my luck in the West Indies, as my cousin had recently been made Governor of Martinique. But we had quarrelled when young, and he still held it against me; so I returned to England. Then in ’96 I sailed to India, having heard that fortunes could be made there swiftly. Unfortunately, I am not suited to trade and succeeded only in getting myself into debt.’
Talleyrand smiled. ‘In that we are birds of a feather. I attempted to repair my fortune while in America by dabbling in commerce, and I had no luck. But please continue.’
‘Finding myself at the end of my tether, I saw no point in remaining in a country rendered uncongenial by intense heat and poisonous reptiles. So I got together what money I could and returned to Europe by way of Egypt. In Venice I again met Madame Bonaparte, who was already a good friend of mine, and she took me to the General’s headquarters at Montebello. I served with him at the siege of Toulon, and was also with him on 13th Vendemiaire. We had also, on numerous occasions, discussed matters of strategy and, evidently feeling that I could be useful to him, he offered me a post as one of his aides-de-camp. It was then that, seeing no possible future for myself in England, I decided to cut myself off for good from the country of my birth and follow the path of fortune that had been opened to me in France.’
‘Your decision was very understandable,’ Talleyrand said. ‘Yet I seem to recall that, when I was on a diplomatic mission in London in ’92, you came to me and I briefed you before you proceeded to France as a secret agent for Mr. Pitt.’
‘True,’ Roger agreed. ‘Yet even then I was acting not against France, but only against the terrorists who were deluging the country in blood. And you gave me your help willingly.’
‘Indeed, yes; because our interests were then identical. But what guarantee can you give me that you are not still acting as an agent for Mr. Pitt?’
‘None,’ Roger laughed. ‘But surely if the Bastille still existed you would not clap me into it?’
‘The Temple would serve equally well,’ Talleyrand replied smoothly, ‘and there you would have the company of a most adventurous fellow: one quite after your own heart. I refer to a Captain Sidney Smith. Although an officer of the British Navy, I am told that he fought as a volunteer with the Swedes in their war against Russia. He also acted as a spy when the British threatened war against the Emperor of Morocco and, disguised as an Arab, made a reconnaissance of that country. He can pass as a Frenchman, too, as he lived for two years in France before the Revolution. But a year or so ago he let his zest for adventure tempt him once too often. In an entirely private venture, of which his Admiralty knew nothing, he attempted to land a party, with the object of blowing up our docks at Le Havre. He was captured and has since remained a prisoner. I could arrange for you to be allowed to see one another, and I am sure you would find him a most entertaining companion.’
‘But surely———’ began Roger with a startled look.
With a laugh, Talleyrand raised his hand and cut him short. ‘No, no, my dear fellow. I was but joking. I would not even dream of treating you so scurvily. I owe to you not only the preservation of my little house at Passy, with all its treasures, from despoliation during the dark days of the Terror, but also my life. It would be an ill return to have you locked up behind stone walls.’
Roger breathed again as the quiet, cultured voice went on, ‘Yet, now that I am an official of the French Government, I cannot altogether ignore what I know of your past. I must at least request from you your word as a gentleman that, while you remain in France, you will not give way to any impulse you may feel to communicate in any way with your English relatives or any other British person.’
Had Roger hesitated, even for an instant, it would have disclosed to the agile mind that was seeking to probe his that he had lied when declaring that henceforth he intended to give his whole allegiance to France. So he replied at once:
‘I give it willingly.’
‘I thank you.’ Talleyrand gave a little bow. ‘And now there is just one other point. I must request you to change your mind and accompany General Bonaparte to Egypt.’
8
The Liberators
To Talleyrand’s first demand, couched though it was as a polite request, Roger had had no option but to accede at once; but this was another matter. For the past few days he had been dwelling on his future with most pleasurable feelings. Once Bonaparte had set sail for Egypt he would no longer constitute a menace either to the Directory or on the Continent of Europe. With no prospect of a coup d’état establishing a new Government with, probably, a drastic change in French policy or of a renewal of the war with Austria, there would have been no advance information of importance that Roger could hope to collect by remaining in Paris. He had therefore been envisaging an early return to England with the possibility, remote though he feared it to be, that he might persuade Georgina to marry him. But if he agreed to go to Egypt that would put a definite end to any such prospect.
After a moment he said, ‘No, no! As I have already said, I have no mind to commit myself to an adventure which may keep me out of Europe for several years, or to risk a futile dea
th by thirst. And why should you ask it of me?’
Talleyrand smiled. ‘For one reason, my friend: because I have your interests at heart. You have told me of your new resolution to make a career for yourself in France. What better first rung on the ladder to fortune could you desire than to have become one of Bonaparte’s aides-de-camp? Fate has enabled you to hitch your wagon to a star. Should you excuse yourself from accompanying the little Corsican he will never forgive you, so you will find yourself finished here when you have scarce begun. Besides, unless my judgment is much at fault, he will not remain away from France indefinitely. Whatever inducements the East may appear to offer, the real prize lies here, as Dictator, and he is well aware of it.’
‘There is much in what you say,’ Roger admitted reluctantly, ‘and, of course, I am devoted to him. But, even so …’
‘So you have said. But you must forgive me if I remark that if you are prepared to deprive him of your services at this turning point in his career I should be bound to feel some slight doubt about your devotion being genuine.’
‘Oh, come! If he asked me I’d risk my life in his service anywhere in Europe. It is just … well, that having been to Egypt I am extremely loath to return to that sweltering and disease-ridden country.’
‘Yet I fear you must.’ Talleyrand gave a mock sigh. ‘You see, my dear fellow, eager as I am to believe every word you have told me, you have given me no proof of this change of heart which you have recently experienced. I am, alas, cursed with a suspicious nature. You say that you have now abandoned all ties with England and have become, er … in all but the formalities … a Frenchman. More, you are now a soldier of France. If, therefore, you wish to convince me, once and for all, that you have told the truth, you must prove it by going where your duty calls you.’
Roger knew that he was trapped. He had counted too highly on established custom concerning foreigners in an enemy country. Up to and at that date wars were regarded as a matter for governments and their fighting forces. Civilians of one nation were courteously permitted to travel through or continue to reside in countries with which their own countries were at war. It was not until Napoleon became Emperor of the French that a new era was introduced by his having all enemy aliens rounded up by his police and thrown into concentration camps. Moreover, there was nothing at all unusual in a man of one nationality making a career in the Army or Navy of another. For that matter, Bonaparte was himself more Italian by blood than he was French, and the Englishman Tom Paine had been a Deputy in the French Convention.
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