It had been undisguisedly an intelligence appreciation of France’s prospects in the Mediterranean and Near East should she again go to war with Britain. The report described the British Army in Egypt as being in a very poor state and that of the Turks as beyond contempt, so that an army of six thousand French should have little difficulty in re-conquering the country. It barely disguised the fact that Sabastiani had gone there for the purpose of contacting Ibrahim Bey and inducing him to lead his Mamelukes in a revolt against the English. It also stated that the people of Corfu would declare themselves for France immediately they received French support.
Naturally the English had been greatly incensed and now flatly declined even to discuss withdrawing their troops from Malta. They had gone further and brought a measure before Parliament for an increase in the armed forces. But the Government was weak, with Pitt still in retirement and Grenville and Dundas now in opposition. Fox, too, had attacked the measure furiously in one of his great orations and this violent dissension in Parliament had led Napoleon to believe that Britain had become so impotent that he could ignore any protests she might make about his doing what he liked on the Continent.
So confident was he of this that on February 18th he had had a violent scene with the British Ambassador, Lord Whitworth, using the old trick of carrying the war into the enemy’s camp by declaring that Britain had been guilty of the basest perfidy, while he was doing no more than assist countries adjacent to France in maintaining stable governments.
His assistance to the Swiss had consisted in sending in his two German-speaking Generals, Ney and Rapp, with an army at their backs to make known his wishes about Switzerland and to insist on the Valais being handed over to France. This also had led to heated protests by the British, but he had brushed them contemptuously aside and declared his intention of becoming the sole arbitrator between the Federals and the Unionists who had long been disputing the way in which Switzerland should be governed.
Roger was sufficiently broadminded to appreciate that there were faults on both sides. The British had failed to honour numerous clauses in the miserable treaty they had signed, while Napoleon had ignored the limitations it had set to the aggrandisement of France on the Continent; so there was justification for the re-opening of hostilities by either. Berthier’s view was that, recognising the immense power now at the disposal of France, the British would accede to the First Consul’s demands without a fight. But Roger was not so certain. Although the weakness of Addington’s government was deplorable and the nation evidently divided, he knew the streak of obstinacy in his countrymen that had led to their defying the might of Spain and wresting the control of the seas from the Dutch; so that if pressed too far they might yet sink their differences and, weak though they were by comparison, again challenge France.
Among Berthier’s activities, Roger learned, was the sending over to Britain of Consuls and Vice-Consuls who were in fact military engineers with orders to make plans of the harbours and coasts; but there was nothing he could do about that.
For the moment he was much more concerned with his private affairs. His eight weeks with Pauline, far from having decreased their desire for one another, had made its satisfaction nearly a necessity. After their first hectic weeks together there had naturally followed a decline in their amorous propensities. But it had not lasted. There had followed a more temperate intimacy that had soon become a habit to which they both looked forward with unflagging delight. Both of them were highly experienced in the art of love and physically each was the perfect counterpart of the other. Pauline had declared frankly that never in a life-time would she find a lover who satisfied her more fully, while Roger remained entranced by the perfection of her beauty and thought himself the luckiest man in the world every time he took her.
Now she was living in Joseph’s new house, the splendid Hotel Marbeuf in the Rue du Faubourg St. Honoré, and it was impossible for them to continue spending their nights together but, fortunately, they had the willing Aimée as a go-between; so on every afternoon that Pauline had no commitment she changed into clothes belonging to her maid, slipped out from the garden door of her brother’s house and came to La Belle Etoile, there to make love with Roger in his bedroom.
Hating her black garments as she did, they served as an excuse for her to refuse to participate in her sister-in-law Julie’s charitable or social activities; but there were afternoons when a visit from her mother, or an old friend such as Laure Permon, now the wife of General Junot, prevented her from leaving the house, so that Roger waited for her at La Belle Etoile in vain. And there were others when she arrived at the inn to find that he had not been able to keep their rendezvous owing to some call of duty. Thus, to their intense annoyance, their plans to be together were quite frequently frustrated.
Meanwhile, Roger had been back in Paris for ten days before he had a chance to talk alone with his old friend Talleyrand. He found the Foreign Minister far from happy about the way things were going. Talleyrand agreed that, if driven too far, the English would again resort to war; and, in spite of all his endeavours, France’s relations with Russia had steadily deteriorated. Napoleon had refused to compensate the King of Sardinia for the loss of his kingdom of Piedmont by more than offering him the small territory of Siena, or a slice of Greece, should France and Russia continue to dismember the Turkish Empire. The Czar, as a fervent upholder of the rights of hereditary monarchs, had been greatly incensed by this and once again it looked as though armies might clash and thousands of soldiers die on account of the claims of King Victor Emanuel. Roger considered such a cause for going to war utterly unreasonable, but consoled himself with the thought that in this case it would at least lead to Russia becoming the ally of England.
Another matter that had given Talleyrand grave concern was the French claim to Louisiana. The previous autumn Napoleon had organised an expedition which, under General Victor, was to cross the Atlantic and take over this territory from the Spaniards. The plan had been for it to be sent out on the pretext that it was a reinforcement for General Leclerc in San Domingo. But two factors had led to its sailing orders being postponed. Firstly, the French forces in San Domingo had been reduced by casualties and yellow fever from twenty thousand to two thousand effectives and these appalling losses had caused Napoleon to hesitate to send more troops to a country in which they would be exposed to the same disease. Secondly, the ex-British Colonists in the northern states of America had declared that they would oppose any nation that claimed suzerainty of the territories that lay to the south of those of the Union.
Jefferson had instructed Monroe, the Ambassador of the States in Paris, to make a deal if he could. Talleyrand had foreseen that to refuse it would be to throw the new Power, with its considerable number of warships, into the arms of the British, whereas a reasonable settlement with the Americans could make them the ally of France. In consequence, he had wisely negotiated a treaty with them by which France ceded her rights to Louisiana for a payment of fifty million dollars.
As March advanced, relations between Britain and France grew still more strained. On the 13th there occurred a most unseemly scene during a reception at the Tuileries, of which Roger was a witness. In front of the assembled Ambassadors Napoleon, without warning, violently attacked Lord Whitworth.
‘It is you,’ he rasped, ‘who are determined to make war upon us. If, for the sake of preserving peace, I should yield on a single point, the English would become more treacherous and insolent. Were we to yield now, England would next prohibit our navigation in certain parts of the world, and I am not the man to brook such indignities. Your government wishes to drive me to war, but France will lose nothing by it. In a very short time I can have two million men at my disposal. You will be the first to draw the sword; I shall be the last to sheath it. Woe to those who show no respect for treaties.’
Lord Whitworth was a cold, hard man and an aristocrat who had difficulty in concealing his dislike for the upstart Corsican. Later he told his
friends, ‘The fellow is beyond the pale. Before the assembled Corps Diplomatique he abused me in the language of the barrack square. From the glare in his eyes I thought he was about to hit me. Had he done so I would have knocked him down without regard to the consequences.’ As it was, with true British phlegm he had merely raised his eyebrows, turned on his heel and walked quietly from the room.
His report of the episode to the British government led, after considerable hesitation, to their sending him orders on April 23rd that, if Napoleon continued to refuse to satisfy their requirements about Switzerland and on other matters, the Ambassador was to demand his passports.
On May 11th a conference was held at St. Cloud. The three Consuls, Talleyrand, Joseph Bonaparte, the Secretary of State Maret and numerous other dignitaries were present. Roger, with several other A.D.C.s and secretaries, was in attendance and later learned what had taken place. Joseph had pleaded hard that his Peace of Amiens should be kept and Talleyrand had supported him. The others, fearing to displease the First Consul, cautiously hedged when giving their opinions.
Napoleon admitted that he had not wanted to engage the English again until the autumn of the following year, by which time his ship-building programme should ensure France a fleet of equal power to that of the British. But he declared that he would not give way over Switzerland or Malta, and that if the English wanted war they should have it. When a vote was taken all but Joseph and Talleyrand voted for the rejection of the British demands.
In consequence, Lord Whitworth left Paris next day and, on May 18th, Britain declared war on France.
For some months both countries had been preparing for a renewal of the struggle and their Navies took immediate action, first blood going to the British by the capture of two merchantmen off the coast of Brittany. On the 22nd this was announced in Paris, together with an order that all Englishmen between the ages of eighteen and sixty still in France were to be arrested and held prisoner for the duration of the war, as a reprisal for the merchantmen having been seized before the declaration of hostilities. This was not the case, as the vessels had been taken on the day war was declared and three days after Napoleon had laid an embargo on all British vessels in French ports, thus himself being the first to commit a hostile act.
No such order for the internment of enemy civilians on the outbreak of war had ever before been issued in any country. To penalise non-combatants in this fashion was an innovation that horrified all Europe. Even in France it was regarded as a most barbarous act; but Napoleon refused to rescind the order and as a result over ten thousand British subjects were condemned to languish in concentration camps, many of them for as long as eleven years.
Although war had been declared, Talleyrand determined to make an effort to arrange a suspension of hostilities; and Napoleon, no doubt owing to his concern over the weakness of the French fleet, agreed that he should do so. The Russian Ambassador, Markoff, also attempted to mediate through his colleague, Vorontzoff, in London. But Napoleon remained adamant on the question of Malta; so these negotiations broke down.
Britain, for her part, made an endeavour to limit the sphere of conflict by offering to respect the neutrality of Holland; but Napoleon would not hear of it. He needed the Dutch Navy and the closure of the Dutch ports as an essential part of his ‘Continental System’ which he hoped, by excluding all British goods from Europe, would ruin the commerce of Britain; so the unfortunate Hollanders were forced to take up arms on behalf of France.
By the peace of Amiens, Hanover had been returned to Britain and King Ferdinand restored to the throne of Naples. But General Mortier swiftly overran Hanover, compelling the hopelessly incompetent Duke of Cambridge to surrender, and General St. Cyr promptly re-occupied Southern Italy. Napoleon, meanwhile, was working with his usual intensity, organising with Berthier the withdrawal of French forces from the Rhine to the Channel coast for his projected invasion of England.
To Roger it was now clear that this new war that had been entered upon would be fought to a finish. Napoleon was not content to be only the master of a great part of Europe. His ambitions extended to an Empire that would stretch from the Americas right across North Africa and through Egypt to include India; and in whichever direction he cast his covetous gaze his way was blocked by England. Only by completely crushing the stubborn British could he succeed in his vast designs. On the other hand, defeat for Britain must mean bankruptcy and near-slavery, so it was certain that she would fight to the last ditch. It was possible, too, that she might again persuade other nations that Napoleon was a menace to them all, use her great wealth to subsidising their armies, and form another combination of powers which would succeed in defeating France. But the struggle could end only in one or other of the great protagonists being utterly broken.
For Roger, personally, the war meant a great increase of work. Throughout May and June he was often closeted with Berthier or members of his staff far into the night, and on four occasions he was sent by Napoleon on missions to the coast that took him from Paris for several days.
Meanwhile, Pauline had ceased to be dependent on her relatives. Now that Napoleon was the undisputed master of France he could allocate funds as he wished, and in April he had granted her a pension of sixty thousand francs per annum. Overjoyed at having the money to make the best of her almost royal position in the new society, she had rushed out and bought herself a fine gilded carriage, more splendid even than that of her sister, Caroline Murat. Then she had acquired as a home of her own the magnificent Hotel of the Dues de Charost1 only a few doors away from Joseph, in the Rue du Faubourg St. Honoré. Regardless of expense she had furnished it in the latest Greco-Egyptian fashion; so that the salons and her bedroom, with its great canopied state bed surmounted by a gilded eagle and supported by sphinxes, had become one of the sights of Paris.
But being the sole mistress of this luxurious mansion made it no easier for her and Roger to pursue their secret love affair, since he dared not go there, except when she held receptions, from fear that Napoleon would soon be informed of it and send him permanently away from Paris. Moreover, many afternoons when they could otherwise have met she had had to give to furnishing and installing herself in the Hotel de Charost, while the increase in his duties occasioned by the renewal of the war more often than formerly prevented him from taking advantage of the afternoons when she was free. In consequence as summer advanced their meetings became less and less frequent and, when they did manage to meet at La Belle Etoile, instead of being able to spend a long afternoon together he usually had to rush off back to the War Office after only an hour with her.
The lengthening of the periods between their meetings added fuel to the fire of their desire, and they both became a prey to terrible frustrations; yet there seemed no way in which they could surmount the barriers that kept them so much apart until, one afternoon towards the end of June, after twelve days had elapsed since they had seen one another, Pauline said:
‘Rojé, mon coeur, I cannot support this state of things much longer. It is now close on four months since we have spent a night together, or even enjoyed a meal in one another’s company. Our meetings are confined to this one room. We dare not go for a drive in this lovely summer weather nor picnic in the Bois. Even on the few occasions when I see you in public we may not exchange more than a few conventional platitudes, then must quickly separate lest Napoleon’s argus eye detects us and he sends you to Italy or the Rhine. But of late I have been giving much thought to this atrocious restraint placed upon our love and have thought of a way to overcome it. We must get married.’
It was a lovely sunny afternoon and she was lying naked on the bed, her hands clasped behind her head. He was already hurrying into his breeches. Balanced uncertainly on one foot, he stared at her for a moment with his mouth open, then repeated, ‘Married!’
‘Yes; why should we not?’
‘Do you mean secretly?’ he asked.
‘No. What good would that do us? We’d be no wit better off.
But as my husband you could come to live with me and share my huge bed. We could go about together and have a marvellous time.’
‘Of that I’ve not a doubt,’ he agreed quickly. ‘But ‘tis not yet eight months since Leclerc died, and you are still in mourning. ’Twould outrage convention did you marry before the year is out.’
She rolled over on her stomach, kissed the pillow on which his head had rested while he had lain beside her, and murmured, ‘I care nothing for that. A few stuffy old ladies will say catty things of me, but they always have. ‘Twould be the topic of the week and then forgotten.’
‘Maybe. But what of your brother? I do not see him readily giving his sister’s hand to a simple Colonel like myself.’
‘Why should he not? Eliza is married to Bacciocchi, who is a nobody, and Caroline to that handsome blockhead Murat. He had only just been made a General when they married and Leclerc was no more than a Colonel when he first courted me. You are a better man than any of them.’
‘I thank you, sweet, for the compliment,’ Roger smiled. ‘But Eliza’s marriage was arranged by your mother without Napoleon’s knowledge and, even then, he was furious that she had not made a better match. Since the marriages of all three of you he has enormously increased in stature and now looks on himself almost as a monarch. He’d never …’
Suddenly she turned over again, swung her legs off the bed and sat up facing him, ‘Not if you are afraid to ask him,’ she cried with tears in her voice. Then she hurried on, ‘Are you called le brave Breuc for nothing? I’ve heard it said you are one of the few men who on occasion dare to defy him. He cannot kill you because you wish to marry me. And, whatever people say of him, he has a noble nature. Whatever cause his old friends give him for anger he never bears umbrage against them for long. We cannot go on like this! We cannot! There are times when I lie in bed half out of my mind from wanting you. Get his consent and our whole lives will become a joy to us. Does my love mean so little to you that to retain it you’ll not risk incurring his displeasure?’
The Wanton Princess Page 27