The Wanton Princess

by Dennis Wheatley

  In May Bonaparte had shown his complete contempt for the doctrine that ‘All men are equal’ by a decree that slavery should be re-introduced in San Domingo. In June the unlucky Toussaint had been lured aboard a French ship, treacherously arrested and sent back to France as a prisoner.

  In European affairs the First Consul had been equally active. Having drafted a new Constitution for the Cisalpine Republic, early in the year he had summoned four hundred and fifty representatives from it to meet him in Lyons and there settle which of them should be appointed to the most important offices. Count Melzi was proposed for President and, as he was both the most important person in Lombardy and strongly pro-French, the Deputies naturally expected that this choice would please their overlord. To their surprise he had angrily refused to sanction the appointment. Thereupon, before the next session of the conference, Talleyrand had dropped a hint to a few of the right people that the First Consul was very hurt that no one had thought of proposing him for this honour. In consequence, next day he had been elected unanimously and with acclaim, President of the Republic, now to be styled that of Italy.

  In the summer, the British having withdrawn from Elba, he had promptly put a French garrison on the island, with the excuse that France was the Protecting Power of Italy. He had then annexed Piedmont and the Duchy of Parma.

  During the autumn he had busied himself mightily in negotiations for the redistribution of the German territories to various petty Princes who had been dispossessed during the war. And here he had been able to offset the annoyance of the Czar about his annexation of Piedmont and Parma by favouring several Princes who were relatives of Alexander’s through his German wife and mother.

  He had, however, run into trouble over Switzerland. Although the independence of that country was supposed to be restored by the provisions of the Peace, he had demanded of the Swiss the cession of the Valais so that he could carry out one of his pet schemes; the building of a military road across the Simplon Pass. The Swiss had refused him the Canton and the English were encouraging them to stand firm.

  In fact, from Bonaparte’s point of view the English were behaving altogether badly. They were seeking to wriggle out of numerous clauses in the Peace Treaty they had signed because, they now declared, they had been tricked over them. They had refused to restore Pondicherry, the sphere of French influence in India, and were delaying the withdrawal of their garrisons from both the Cape and Malta on the pretext that Bonaparte had broken his word by interfering in the affairs of Switzerland.

  Roger knew well enough that Cornwallis had been made a complete fool of at Amiens but, however idiotic the concessions made there, it seemed that, affairs in Switzerland apart, the British Government had ample grounds for the attitude they were taking as retaliation for Bonaparte’s seizure of Elba, Piedmont and Parma. But Fouché, his long bony fingers picking at a bunch of grapes, was going on:

  ‘So there, mon cher Colonel, matters rest at the moment. It has been another wonderful year for France and ‘tis my opinion that “Napoleon” will go even further than has “Bonaparte”. But now that I have put you au courant with great affairs, pray tell me about yourself, and how you have spent these past many months?’

  Roger was ready for the question and replied quietly, ‘I spent a good part of them in prison.’

  ‘Prison!’ Fouché exclaimed, his fish-like eyes for once meeting Roger’s. ‘You astound me. What can possibly have so bemused your mind that you failed to call on my good offices? Whatever you had done, I would have found a pretext to get you out.’

  ‘I thank you for your good intent,’ Roger smiled, ‘but it was beyond even your powers to do so, for ‘twas in England that I was in gaol. On the signing of the peace I decided that I would go over there and visit some of my less unpleasant relatives.’

  Fouché nodded his long, thin, skull-like head, ‘I recall now that you long since quarrelled bitterly with your immediate family. But what was the trouble in which you landed yourself?’

  ‘A duel was forced upon me, and in regard to such affairs the attitude of the English is still barbarous. Here in France, from time to time, the monarchs issued Edicts forbidding duelling, but they were sufficiently civilised to appreciate that there are occasions on which a man has no alternative but to defend his honour. Provided the accepted code of duelling was observed, no serious action was ever taken. The treatment I received in the country of my forebears made me more than ever disgusted with it; so as soon as I was freed I returned to France.’

  ‘And what do you plan to do now?’

  ‘Remain here, I think, at least for some months. Now that France is at peace Bonaparte, or Napoleon as we must now call him, can have little use for me. And I’m told that Paris swarms with Englishmen. So incensed am I about their having imprisoned me, did I get into an argument with one of them I’d like as not have another duel on my hands.’

  With a shrug of his lean shoulders Fouché remarked, ‘ ’Tis true that throughout the summer and autumn there were thousands of them in Paris, but now the winter has come all but a few are gone home. As for remaining here, this is a charming retreat you have but, if you would permit me to advise, I would advocate your return to Paris.’

  ‘Why so?’ Roger asked.

  ‘Upon two counts. With Peace France is prospering as never before, so ‘tis my view that everything possible should be done to maintain this happy state of things, But there is a grave danger that it will not last. Napoleon is so disgusted with the English that he is already contemplating again making war on them. Should he do so, now that Italy is completely ours and we have naught to fear from Austria, Prussia or Russia, ‘tis certain that he will revive his long-cherished plan for invading England. I am of the opinion that such a venture would prove a great disaster. You are one of the few people who might persuade him of that, and so stay his hand.’

  ‘He may well refuse to give me back my place,’ Roger demurred. ‘I should have reported to him again last Spring, or at least have asked his leave before proceeding to England. My failure to do so may have angered him exceedingly and cost me his good will.’

  Fouché shook his narrow head, ‘Nay. He has ever a soft spot for his old friends and will forgive them much. In spite of your long, unauthorised absence I feel confident that he will take you back into his good graces. Then, if you regained his ear, your knowledge of England and the dangers involved in a cross-Channel expedition might prove the fly on the chariot wheel.’

  Putting his bloodless lips to his glass Fouché drank a little wine, then went on, ‘The other side of the picture is that, should his ambition overrule sane judgment, you would again be one of his immediate entourage and so be in a position to promote the career that you told me, upon our settling our old differences, you meant to make for yourself in France.’

  For a moment Roger studied the lean, corpse-like man seated opposite him. He could see no trap in the advice offered and recalled Fouché’s having once said to him that his policy was, whenever possible, to have friends rather than enemies. It could, therefore, be assumed that his present object was to induce Roger to return to Paris for their mutual good, in the belief that Roger would himself benefit and, at the same time, prove a friend for him near Napoleon.

  ‘I thank you,’ he replied gravely. ‘I agree that everything possible should be done to preserve the peace. Should I decide to go to Paris, my reception by Napoleon would depend much on the mood in which he happened to be, but were it good I’d not forget the generous interest that you have shown in my affairs. I’ll think the matter over and let you know my decision tomorrow morning.’

  That night both his sense of duty and his inclination prompted him to take Fouché’s advice. However bad the bargain Britain might have made at Amiens, there was no reason whatever to suppose that, should the war be renewed, she would get a better one a year or two hence; in fact, since she had no single ally left on the Continent, it might prove very much worse. Talleyrand, Roger felt sure, would do everyth
ing possible to hold Napoleon back, and some occasion might arise in which he could be of help in that. It would mean denying himself the winter sunshine, the azure skies, the mimosa and carnations, the oranges and tangerines of the South of France, that he had been looking forward to in January and February; but little Jeanne Meuralt was no longer there to give him her companionship, along that part of the coast there was no society and the longer he remained outside Napoleon’s orbit the less chance he would have of regaining his old position as a confidant of secrets that might change the destinies of nations.

  So next day he packed such things as he needed, while Fouché walked down to the village and drove back in the travelling coach that he had had stabled there. Roger left money with the Dufour couple and told them and the other servants that he might not be returning for some months; then, that afternoon, he and Fouché set off in the coach for Paris.

  They arrived on December 2nd, and Roger was made as welcome as ever at La Belle Etoile by the Blanchards. They had wonderful things to say about the happenings in Paris since he had last been there. The peace had brought not only scores of English ‘milors’ to France but also many Russian and German nobles. The Place du Carousel had been a sight to see on review days when they all went there in their splendid equipages. The parties at the Tuileries were becoming ever more brilliant. Now, like a King and Queen, Napoleon and Josephine received at their Court all the Foreign Ambassadors who presented to them the visiting aristocracy from their countries: Lord Whitworth for England, M. Markoff for Russia and the Marquis de Lucchesini for Prussia; and the Ambassadors in turn gave magnificent receptions for the First Consul and his wife. Never since the fall of the Bastille, thirteen years ago, had the theatres been so packed or the fetes been attended by so many thousands of well-dressed people.

  Business was booming, not only in the capital but throughout the whole country, for the Industrial Revolution had come to France. Napoleon’s remaking of the roads and canals and his suppression of brigandage now made commerce between cities swift and profitable. The bad old days of the almost worthless paper assignats were gone and the funds, which at the time of Brumaire had been down to seven francs, now stood at fifty two.

  In the autumn Napoleon had organised an Exhibition of Industry in the Louvre and converted many of its splendid apartments into an art gallery, where could be seen the great collection of Old Masters looted out of Italy and such masterpieces as the Venus de Medici. It had again become fashionable to go to Mass. In return for the Concordat the Vatican had led the way in recognising the new Kingdom of Etruria and the Helvetii and Batavian Republics as French Protectorates. Food was plentiful and cheap. New buildings were going up everywhere. The projects of Napoleon for the betterment of France seemed endless and he was looked on by the majority of the people as the giver of all good things.

  Next day, dressed again as a Colonel and wearing the sash of an A.D.C., Roger was received by the great man. Napoleon stared at him for a moment then snapped, ‘How dare you present yourself to me in uniform! You forfeited the right to it months ago. Owing to your weak chest I gave you leave to spend the worst of last winter in the south. Your failure to report to me in the Spring amounts to desertion and I mean to have you court-martialled for it.’

  Roger had known this to be a risk that he would have to run, but felt fairly confident that he could surmount it. Making a pretence of beginning to take off his A.D.C.’s sash, he gave a shrug and replied, ‘As you will. If my old friend and master has become an unjust tyrant in my absence there is naught that I can do about it. Strip me of my uniform. Have me drummed out, if it pleases you. Order your Court to condemn me; but I’d be unfortunate indeed if I were thrown into a French prison after having spent a good part of the year in an English one.’

  ‘An English prison?’

  ‘Yes. Before reporting to you in the Spring I thought I’d take advantage of the peace and spend a few weeks in England, so as to be able to inform you on my return how things were going there. A duel was forced upon me and for fighting it I was clapped into gaol. As soon as I was free I returned via Bordeaux, then went to St. Maxime for only long enough to see that all was well with my small property there. Then, although it is mid-winter, giving no thought to my chest, I came with all speed to Paris, so that I might with the least possible delay congratulate you on having become First Consul for life.’

  Napoleon grunted, ‘I see! I see! That certainly puts a different complexion on matters. But now there is peace I have no use for beaux abreurs. At least not at present.’

  ‘No; not at present, First Consul,’ Roger smiled. ‘But I have a feeling that you will before we are much older.’

  ‘What the devil do you mean?’

  ‘I travelled north with Joseph Fouché. He gave me the impression that you are by no means satisfied with the conduct of the English.’

  ‘Fouché, eh! That intriguing Jacobin! He has a finger in every pie and although I got rid of him he still catches news of everything in his spider’s web.’

  Beginning to pace up and down with his hands clasped behind his back, Napoleon went on. ‘But he’s right, of course. They are thwarting me in India. They are still sitting at the Cape and refuse to evacuate Malta. Their journals, too! No doubt you saw them. Article after article, maligning me most shamefully. ’Tis disgraceful that they should allow their scribblers to write filth about a friendly Head of State. But I’ve no wish for war. Under me France has become prosperous as never before. I intend to keep it so. Yet this haggling with them infuriates me. They agreed the peace terms so they should keep them; but I suppose one can expect no better from a nation of shopkeepers.’

  ‘In view of their recent treatment of me I’d like nothing better than to have at them again,’ Roger remarked. ‘But since you are set on maintaining the peace, why not let me resume my old duties as assistant to Bourrienne?’

  ‘Bourrienne!’ Napoleon stopped pacing and frowned again. ‘He is here no longer. I got rid of him last October.’

  ‘Got rid of Bourrienne!’ Roger exclaimed. ‘Mon Général, I can scarce believe it. Why, he was your oldest friend and invaluable to you. What frightful crime did he commit?’

  ‘ ’Tis naught to do with you. And no man is indispensable. Méneval now serves me just as well and has all the help he needs. No, for the moment I have no use for you, so you had best return to the sunshine of the south.’

  Although Roger was well aware of Napoleon’s duplicity, he had formed the opinion that he really meant what he had said about not wanting a renewal of the war, which was a considerable relief; but he had been so taken aback at the dismissal of Bourrienne that for a moment he was at a loss to think of any other suggestion which might lead to his employment. He had just made up his mind to bow himself out and see Talleyrand, who might find a use for him, when Napoleon suddenly snapped his fingers and cried:

  ‘I have it. You will have heard of our misfortunes in San Domingo?’

  Roger’s heart gave a lurch and seemed to descend to his boots. The last thing he wanted was to be ordered off to the West Indies, and if he was but did not go it would almost certainly mean Napoleon’s finishing with him for good.

  ‘No, First Consul,’ he replied, striving to keep the anxiety out of his voice. ‘Since my return to Paris yesterday I have seen no one of importance before waiting on you; and Fouché made no mention of the island except that the Negro general Toussaint l’Ouverture had been sent back to France a prisoner.’

  Napoleon made an impatient gesture. ‘Oh, Leclerc did well enough on his arrival on the island. He found Cap Haïtiden in possession of the Negro General, Christophe. But he had sailed from France in thirty-two ships carrying twenty thousand men; so, although he had to land his troops on the beach a few miles from the town, the very sight of our force was enough to scare the blaeks into abandoning it. After that he soon had the island under control and he dealt with l’Ouverture as I had directed.

  ‘But that was in the winter, when
those fevers that apparently rise from the lowland swamps lie dormant. Since then, alas, the situation has become very different. With the warmer weather our men began to go down with the fatal sickness. By high summer they were dying like flies. That encouraged the Negroes to revolt. Seeing our increasing weakness, whole battalions of them that we had trained and armed for our service deserted and went over to the enemy. By October this accursed yellow fever had reduced Leclerc’s effectives from twenty thousand to two thousand; and against the black hordes he was hard put to it even to hang on in Cap Haitien. Now that he is dead, unless courage and intelligent leadership save the day for us we may be forced to abandon the island altogether.’

  ‘Leclerc dead!’ Roger exclaimed.

  ‘He was stricken with the pestilence and died early in November.’

  ‘I am most distressed to hear it. He was a charming and intelligent as well as a brave man.’

  ‘Yes,’ Napoleon nodded glumly, ‘he was a good man and I am sorry now that I chose him for that command. I did so only because he was up to his ears in debt. Like all my family, with the exception of my mother, Madame Leclerc has no idea of the value of money. She is appallingly extravagant and poor Leclerc was half out of his wits wondering how to pay her bills. My idea was that, after a few years as Captain General on that great island, he would have returned rich enough to live like a millionaire for the rest of his life.’

  As Napoleon spoke, Roger was wondering anxiously what was coming next. Never having commanded a formation he thought it unlikely that he was to be sent out to take Leclerc’s place; but with Napoleon one could never tell. He had sent Duroc, who had no diplomatic experience, as his Ambassador to St. Petersburg and had recently made Savary, another soldier, Chief of Police. Roger thought it more likely that he was to be despatched to this devilish island as A.D.C. to some other General, or as the First Consul’s personal representative, to send him an on-the-spot report of the situation.