The Generals r-2

by Simon Scarrow

  ‘Yes.’ Napoleon raised a hand to quiet his fiery subordinate. ‘Their timing is less than perfect, I grant you. But once Bernadotte and Delmas join us with their divisions the Army of Italy will have eighty thousand men on its strength. More than enough for the next, and I hope final, phase of the war against Austria . . .’

  He paused, enjoying the keen concentration of his officers as they waited for him to continue. He clicked his fingers and Berthier crossed to the table and unrolled a map of the north of Italy, the Alps and Austria. Once the map was weighted down, Napoleon took up position at the head of the table and tapped his finger on the Austrian capital.

  ‘Vienna, gentlemen. That is the goal for the coming campaign.The Army of Italy and the Army of the Rhine will be the two prongs of an attack on Austria.The enemy will no longer be able to shuffle men between the two fronts and for the first time we shall outnumber them. I aim to be in Vienna by summer at the latest. And there I shall dictate terms to the Emperor of Austria, while my officers and soldiers take the spoils of war that they have earned.’

  There were broad smiles from the assembled officers, and Napoleon turned to Masséna. ‘I imagine that meets with your approval, André?’

  Masséna rubbed his hands together. ‘Indeed, sir! I shall loot the place until the Viennese are begging for mercy.’

  ‘Just as long as you leave a little something for the rest of us.’

  The others laughed and Napoleon indulged them for a moment before he tapped the map again. ‘Now to business: the plan for the campaign.’

  Once the briefing was over and the field officers had returned to their commands to prepare their men for the months ahead, Napoleon went to Josephine at the house he had commandeered at Montebello. It was a very grand affair, a palace truly fit for the man who ruled the whole expanse of northern Italy, from the border of France across the shores of the Adriatic Sea. Josephine’s entourage had been swelled by a large number of local aristocrats and others seeking the favour of the young French general.As Napoleon rode up the long tree-lined avenue he was struck by the thought that the original coterie of family and friends now had more the appearance of some regal court, with its finely dressed guests served by hundreds of uniformed staff amid the stately halls, corridors and immaculately landscaped gardens of Montebello.

  Josephine had gone for a ride with Lieutenant Charles and did not return until dusk. Napoleon was waiting for her in the stables when they returned, two riders emerging from the thin blue light that bathed the withered winter landscape. As Napoleon walked out of the shadows of the stable Josephine was talking in a quiet undertone. The hussar lieutenant caught sight of Napoleon at once, and reining in he snapped a salute at his superior. Josephine slid from her saddle and ran into Napoleon’s arms and they exchanged a kiss. Napoleon released his wife and nodded to the hussar.

  ‘You may go now, Lieutenant. My wife is quite safe, but I thank you for acting as her protector this afternoon.’

  ‘My pleasure, sir.’ Lieutenant Charles wheeled his mount, took up the reins of Josephine’s horse, and led it away towards the waiting grooms. Napoleon stared at the man for a moment. He could see why the ladies might warm to the company of the tall, graceful cavalry officer with his finely sculpted features. Quite the Adonis, Napoleon reflected ruefully, suddenly conscious of his own slight frame and dark hair. Had he not been celebrated for his victory over the royalists in Paris he would still be an undistinguished officer of artillery languishing in the ranks of the Army of the Vendée. The kind of man that Josephine would never have married. The knowledge cut him like a knife and his wife sensed the sudden change.

  ‘What is it?’ she asked in an alarmed tone.‘What’s the matter?’

  Napoleon turned away from Hippolyte Charles. ‘It’s nothing.’

  ‘What’s happened, Napoleon?’ She grasped his shoulders. ‘You’re scaring me.’

  ‘Really, it’s nothing,’ he lied.‘It’s just that I had hoped to spend more time with you here at Montebello. But there’s to be a new campaign. I’m going away again, possibly for some months.’

  ‘Is that it?’ She looked relieved. ‘I thought . . . Never mind. Then we must make the most of whatever time you have with me. It’s cold. Come, let’s get inside. I need to slip into some warm clothes.’ Her eyes twinkled as she lowered her voice. ‘Bedclothes, that is.’

  ‘I don’t know what it is that you see in her,’ Napoleon’s mother muttered as they sat by the fire. The evening meal had just finished and the intimate circle of family and close friends had retired to the library. Outside it had begun to rain, and the crack and hiss of the wood in the large iron grate mixed with the soft drumming of rain on the glass panes of the tall windows overlooking the gardens. Josephine was playing a simple card game with Eugène, Hortense, and several of her friends, and their bright chatter was frequently interrupted by sharp cries of surprise and glee at the turn of a card.The Bonapartes had retired to the chairs arranged around the fireplace and a footman had brought a gleaming silver pot of coffee and fine china cups and set them down on a low table in front of them. Napoleon reached for the pot and poured for his mother, then set the pot down and resumed his seat.

  ‘Josephine is my wife, Mother. I love her.That should be good enough for you.’

  ‘Well it isn’t,’ Letizia snapped back, and leaned closer to her son as she continued, ‘I’ve heard the gossip from Paris. She has a reputation, you know.’

  ‘So? I have a reputation too.’

  ‘Not the same kind of reputation and you know it. So don’t act the fool.’ Letizia tapped his knee with her fan. ‘She was the lover of Paul Barras before you.’

  ‘I know. She told me. That was before we met.’

  There was an awkward silence before Letizia smiled.‘I’m only thinking of you, my son. It would break my heart if that woman shamed you. If she humiliated you in public.’

  ‘I see.’ Napoleon smiled bitterly. ‘This is about the family’s honour, isn’t it? That stiff Corsican morality you take such pride in.’>

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But we aren’t in Corsica any more, Mother.’

  ‘Maybe, but that does not make us any less Corsican.’ She tapped him on the breast. ‘In your heart you know this. Anyway, anyone listening to you speak could hardly fail to be aware of your origins.’>

  ‘This is beside the point. She is my wife and you will respect her as such. It is my will.’

  ‘It may be your will,’ Letizia nodded discreetly towards the card players, ‘but do you really know her will? Does she really love you?’

  ‘She says so.’

  ‘Of course she would. But look at it from her point of view, Napoleon. She’s some years older than you. Her looks are beginning to fade. She knew that it was only a matter of time before she no longer graced any Paris salon. Then you came along. Young, inexperienced, famous and, more important, unattached.You were her last chance of a good match.’

  Napoleon glared at his mother. ‘Enough.You go too far.’

  He stood up abruptly, shook his head, and strode out of the room.

  The Austrians appointed their most able general to command the forces opposing the Army of Italy. Archduke Charles had enjoyed some notable successes against the Army of the Rhine and now sought to bolster his reputation by humbling the young French general who had caused so much grief to Austrian interests in Italy. Napoleon gave him no time to prepare for the attack. As soon as the passes across the Alps were free of snow he led his men through the mountain ranges and fell upon the enemy in the broad valley through which the River Drave flowed. Nothing could check the Army of Italy in its advance, and it was only with the capture of the city of Klagenfurt that Napoleon halted.

  There had been no news of the Army of the Rhine since Napoleon had launched his offensive and the further he advanced into Austria, the longer his lines of communication had become. If the Directory’s strategy was being followed to the letter then the Army of the Rhine should be thrustin
g deep into Austria from the north.Yet there had been no word from General Moreau, nor any confirmation from Paris that Moreau’s progress was going ahead as planned.As the days passed Napoleon became increasingly anxious about the silence. If Moreau had been thrown back then the Austrians would be able to reinforce Archduke Charles and any reverse that Napoleon suffered so far from his bases in northern Italy could lead to the destruction of the Army of Italy.

  ‘What are those fools playing at, Berthier?’ Napoleon muttered, hands clasped behind his back as he stared out of the window of Hochosterwitz castle at the distant mountains. ‘It’s nearly a month since I last had news of Moreau. I tell you, the Directors have betrayed us again. Just one last push, by both armies, and we’d have Vienna.’

  ‘I’ve had a report from Murat, sir. One of our cavalry patrols reached the top of the Semmerling pass. They claim that they could see Vienna in the distance.’

  Napoleon shook his head with disdain.‘Wishful thinking. But I know exactly how they feel. One last victory and the war would be over. Only we can’t have that without Moreau. What am I to do?’

  Berthier had come to know his commander well enough to realise the question was rhetorical, and he kept his silence as Napoleon continued.

  ‘We dare not advance without Moreau in support. Yet we cannot remain here and permit the enemy to gather their forces and attack our supply lines . . .’ Napoleon was still for a moment, and then nodded, his decision made. ‘There is only one thing we can do.’

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘Offer the Austrians an armistice.’ He turned away from the window. ‘We must buy ourselves some time. But we must not look as if we need the ceasefire. We must be seen to be negotiating from a position of strength. I’ll offer the Austrians a five days’ armistice. Meanwhile we’ll advance and take Leoben. That should put the spur to their thinking. They’ll have to agree to terms then, just to stop us pressing even further into their homeland. Very well, Berthier, send a message to Archduke Charles.’

  True to form, the enemy refused to reply at first, but with the fall of Leoben early in April the Austrians accepted the offer, and added that they would not be averse to negotiating a broader treaty. Napoleon delayed his response, still hoping for word that Moreau was closing in from the north. Finally, a messenger arrived from the Directory in Paris. Moreau had not even begun his advance. Worse still, there was news of uprisings in Tyrol and Venice where the people had seized a French ship and slaughtered its crew. Napoleon’s full fury was directed at Moreau, and the Directory who had failed to make Moreau fulfil his part of the plan. It almost felt as if they had conspired against Napoleon, fearful of the public acclaim he would have won for capturing the enemy capital. As it was, he had no choice; he needed peace.

  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 wo
rried 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.