The Dark Secret of Josephine rb-5

by Dennis Wheatley

  Instantly the young Brigadier's face lit up. His thread-bare jacket ill-cleaned boots and slovenly appearance, which had earned him the nickname of 'the little ragamuffin', were forgotten at the sight of his flashing eyes, and the ringing tones of his heavily accented voice.

  Seizing Barras's hand he wrung it; then, without a moment's hesitation he began to allocate duties to the officers round him. His first order was to a Major Murat: a tall, dark, grossly handsome cavalryman who, with the liberty about uniform usual in those days, had a large ostrich feather fixed in his busby. He was despatched with his squadron to fetch the forty cannon post-haste from the camp at Sablons. A Captain Marmont was sent with another squadron to seize the Arsenal at Meudon, and a Colonel Brune to follow him with a battalion of infantry and wagons to bring in ammunition.

  The three future Marshals of France had scarcely hurried from the room before other officers were dashing after them to secure supplies of food and to establish strong points round the perimeter of the area that Buonaparte had decided to hold.

  The command of the fifteen hundred sans-culottes had been given to a brave old General named Berruyer. To him Buonaparte gave the task of having barricades thrown up in the streets to the north of the Rue St Honore; then he turned to the senior of them all, General Carteaux, who was looking far from happy at seeing himself supplanted by a junior who till then had been reckoned of little importance, and said tactfully:

  "For you, mon pere, I have reserved the place of the greatest danger and the greatest glory. It is certain that the insurgents will endeavour to reach the Tuileries by the shortest route, across the Pont Neuf. Take four hundred men and hold the bridge for us, if need be to the death."

  The older man's expression changed instantly. Raising his hand in salute, he cried: "Rely upon me! They shall not pass!" And, snatch­ing up his hat be ran from the room.

  It was now empty except for Barras, Roger, Buonaparte and his two young A.D.C.'s, Junot and Muiron. Barras waved a hand towards Roger and said:

  "Do you know Citizen Breuc? He was with me on the night of 9th Thermidor, but was later made a prisoner by the English, and has only tonight got back to Paris after making his escape."

  Buonaparte's sudden smile flashed out and he shook hands warmly with Roger. "Of course. I thought I knew your face, but could not for the moment place you, owing to the whiskers and moustache that you have grown. You were the Citizen Representant who led the charge against the Spanish redoubt at Toulon. Its early capture greatly facilitated our assault on Fort Mulgrave later that night; so yours was a valuable as well as gallant act"

  Roger bowed. "I thank you, Citizen General. I see that since last we met your rapid promotion has continued. Allow me to congratulate you."

  Making a wry face, Buonaparte replied: "All is not gold that glisters. I was given my present rank shortly after Toulon, and as Commander of the Artillery in General Massena's campaign into Italy proved that I knew my business; but for all the use it has been to me these past thirteen months I might as well have remained a captain."

  "You surprise me. I should have thought that many employments could be found for a man of your obvious abilities."

  "They could have been; but after Thermidor my friendship with the younger Robespierre was held against me. On my return from a diplomatic mission to the Republic of Genoa my countryman, the deputy Salicetti, from having been my patron turned against me, and as one means of whitewashing himself had me arrested."

  "You were not confined for long," Barras put in with a shrug. "And whereas, after 1st PrairiaL Salicetti was forced to fly the country, you are still here; so it is foolish to continue to chew upon this year-old grievance."

  "Ah, but I was deprived of my command, and have been given no other since," the young Corsican retorted bitterly. "For months, so that they might the more easily spy upon my comings and goings, they kept me here at a desk in the Topographical Office. What sort of work is that, for a soldier?"

  "You were offered a command in La Vendee."

  "Yes, as a means of testing my patriotism! But I prefer to kill Austrians, Sardinians and Englishmen to Frenchmen, whatever their political convictions. In any case, at the time, I was too ill to accept it"

  "You have had the appearance of being ill ever since I first met you," Barras remarked shrewdly; "so it is not to be wondered at that certain people suspected the validity of your excuse."

  "Excuse or no excuse, after my services at Toulon, Ventimiglia, Oneglia and at the Col di Tenda, they have treated me shamefully. Because of my refusal to go to Brittany I was struck off the list of Generals. I have no post, no pay, and am allowed a table in this office only on sufferance, because I have a gift for writing despatches, which others find a tiresome business."

  "No matter," Barras said with a laugh. "Do you but handle this present crisis aright, and the Convention will let bygones be bygones. In a few hours die dawn of 13th Vendemiaire will break and the day may even prove the making of your fortune."

  Those few hours seemed to go very swiftly, as staff officers and

  orderlies hurried in and out bringing Buonaparte confirmation that his orders had been executed, or asking for further instructions where hitches had occurred. The Poisonniere Section stopped the consignment of arms that had been despatched to the 'patriots' of Quinze-Vingts, and that of Mont Blanc seized a convoy of provisions destined for the Tuileries; but otherwise everything went smoothly.

  Roger had been in Paris during many of the major outbreaks of the Revolution, so knew well the pattern that they followed. First, for a few days, there were deputations to the Chamber, while street-corner agitators harangued anyone who would listen to them. Then processions paraded the streets demanding bread, and declaring that the Revolution had been betrayed. Finally several ill-co-ordinated mobs clashed with the equally ill-directed forces of a hesitant and jittery Authority. As brains and resolution played little part in the eventual clashes the side with the greater numbers emerged victorious. Therefore, according to precedent, the Convention was about to be overthrown.

  But, as a witness of the night's skilful, systematic planning and its results, long before dawn Roger made up his mind that precedent could no longer be taken as a guide for this occasion. That unknown factor' of which Fouché had made passing mention had been produced by Barras in this seedy-looking little Corsican soldier who for the past year had remained unemployed and discredited.

  By six o'clock his chances of succeeding in suppressing the insurrection were enormously strengthened. Murat, drenched to the skin and leaving pools of water behind him with every footstep, came stamping into the room. His thick lips parting in a grin, he told them that he had reached Les Sablons simultaneously with a battalion of National Guards from the Section Lepelletier, also sent to fetch the cannon. In the open plain the infantry had not dared to face a charge by his dragoons; so, after furious but useless protests, they had given way to him, and he now had forty cannon, with gunners and a good supply of ammunition, drawn up in the gardens of the Tuileries.

  Buonaparte put on a shabby grey overcoat, stuck a round crowned black hat, which had an upturned brim in front, on the extreme back of his head, and declared his intention of making a round of the troops.

  Barras, Roger was secretly amused to see, though happy to make use of the Corsican's abilities, had no intention of letting him get the lion's share of the credit for the arrangements he had made. Clapping his three-plumed hat on his hair that, to conceal its premature greyness, he had, m contemptuous defiance of the sans-culottes, kept powdered all through the Revolution, he said:

  "As Commander-in-Chief, I will inspect our forces. Be good enough, Citizen Brigadier and the rest of you, to attend me."

  During the next two hours, in the teeming rain, they rode from post to post. At each Barras spoke a few words of encouragement to the soldiers; and, depressed as they were from having stood about all night in the cold and wet, his resolute mode of address never failed to raise a cheer for
the Convention.

  The weather, apparently, had had an even more damping effect on the spirits of the insurgents; for, although their pickets continued to occupy buildings within musket shot of the Convention's troops, no major force of National Guards had as yet made its appearance. This delay gave Buonaparte still further time to strengthen his dis­positions, and as the morning wore on without event it looked as if the day might pass without any major clash occurring.

  By midday the weather eased and strong columns of the insurgents began to surround the whole of the defended area. General Danican, who had been given the principal command of them, feeling certain of victory owing to his greatly superior numbers, but anxious to avoid bloodshed if possible, then sent an A.D.C. under a flag of truce to offer terms to the Convention. The officer was blindfolded and taken by Barras and Buonaparte into the Assembly Hall, where, after threatening the Deputies, he offered them peace if they would disarm the 'patriots and rescind the decrees of Fructidor.

  The deliberations took some time but it was finally decided not to answer. Instead, twenty-four Representants were nominated to go out and fraternize with the Sections and attempt to pacify them individually. By this time it was half-past four and, having received no reply, General Danican gave the order to attack. Thereupon Buonaparte sent eight hundred musket and cartridge boxes to the Convention Hall with the suggestion that the Deputies should cease talking and come out to help defend themselves.

  For some hours past the Convention troops had been under severe provocation, and General Carteaux had, with Buonaparte's approval, even withdrawn his men from the Pont Neuf to the Quai des Tuileries rather than have them shed first blood. But now a company of insur­gents that had taken up its position on the steps of the Church of St. Roch began to fire down on Buonaparte's gunners.

  Reluctant as he was to have his name associated with killing French­men, now that he was left no option he acted swiftly and ruthlessly. In a few minutes blasts of grape-shot from his cannon rendered the steps of the church a tangled mass of dead and dying. Ordering the guns to be swung about in sections back to back he then had them sweep both ends of the Rue St Honore for its whole length with their devastating fire. His horse was shot under him, but the faithful Junot ever at his side, got him another and, leaping on to it he personally led a company of 'patriots' into the nearest fray.

  In the hour that followed, his extraordinary instinct for directing a battle sent him from point to point so that he appeared as though miraculously at every place where danger threatened. At each he rallied the troops, ordered a charge or himself directed the fire of the nearest cannon, so that they mowed down the heads of the packed columns of the insurgents.

  The most determined attack was made from the east where some eight thousand men endeavoured to force their way past the Louvre. Their object was to join up with the troops of the Comte de Maulevrier in the Rue Dauphme, and the column on the Pont Neuf led by a young Royalist named Lafond, who showed great gallantry. But

  Buonaparte deployed several batteries on the Quai des Tuileries and, by blasting both the exits of the streets and the bridge, drove the insurgents back everywhere in hopeless confusion.

  By six o'clock the conflict was over, and the final dispersion of the great mobs that had gathered was brought about by a continued firing of the cannon, but with blank ammunition. There remained only three strong points—the Place Vendome, the church of St. Roch and the Palais Royal—in each of which bodies of the insurgents had fortified themselves. These Buonaparte promptly surrounded, and a few musket shots the following morning proved sufficient to bring about their surrender.

  Barras and Buonaparte both received a tremendous ovation from the Convention, which they had undoubtedly saved. The former was appointed Commander-in-Chief of the Army of the Interior. The latter, whose name for the first time became one of national significance, was given the post of Second in Command, which transformed him overnight from an obscure Brigadier, suspended and penniless, to a highly paid and influential man in the second rank of France's Generals.

  Roger, by an apparent eagerness to help, and a great display of activity, had succeeded in retaining Barras's esteem without having had actually to participate in the fighting. There had been no means by which he could influence the battle in favour of the monarchists; so he had had to watch their defeat while riding to and fro with Barras and cheering lustily on every suitable occasion.

  Consequently, with a dozen others, he came in for a minor share of the triumph; and, when the story of his escape from the Army of Conde got about, scores of his old acquaintances welcomed him back to Paris. As he had no post Barras promptly gave him one, with the rank of Colonel, in his new office; and nothing could have suited Roger better, as the job was a sinecure having no

  hours and few duties, yet gave him access to all the papers concerning the Army of the Interior.

  Thus, by having inadvertently backed the right horse at what had appeared to be the wrong moment, he now found himself more safely entrenched in the favour of the men who governed France than he ever dreamed could again be possible. Yet he was quick to realize that it was only at a price—it had now become impossible to carry out his intentions.

  Within twenty-four hours it became clear that, having triumphed, the Convention intended to pursue a policy of conciliation rather than revenge. A few of the most belligerent Sections were disarmed and the National Guards of the others placed under Buonaparte; but, except for Lafond, who had been captured and stubbornly refused a pardon, the leaders of the insurgents were permitted to escape. Against the jeunesse doree no move was made at all. They were allowed to continue going freely about Paris wearing the reactionist colours of black and green, and to boast unchecked in the salons of the bravery they had displayed in facing the 'little ragamuffin's' cannon; so in a very short time, apart from those who mourned four hundred dead, all trace that there had been of an insurrection disappeared from the capital and it resumed its feverish post-Terror gaiety.

  Nevertheless, the fact remained that the Monarchists and the Moderates had shot their bolt They had never had an acknowledged leader or formed a coherent party, but were a score of groups with different aims knit loosely together only by a mutual hatred of the Convention. Their numbers and readiness to rise, had they continued to simmer for a few weeks longer, would have made an excellent lever for Roger to persuade two or three of his old colleagues who still had real power to collaborate with Pichegru. But now that the discontented had blown off their steam, months must elapse before they were ripe for another outbreak; and men like Freron, Dubois-Crance, Tallien or Boissy d'Anglas were not going to risk their necks by arresting the die-hard members of the Committee of Public Safety unless they could be assured of immediate popular support.

  An even greater obstacle to the fulfilment of Roger's plans had emerged in the person of Buonaparte. This swift-thinking, resolute young man would neither have panicked nor sat still when he learned that the conqueror of Holland had left the Rhine and was marching his army on Paris. His readiness to defend the Convention, although it had treated him ill, showed where his sentiments lay; at all events for the present With every man he could muster he would have marched out of Paris and given battle to Pichegru; and who could say which of them would have proved the victor?

  These considerations decided Roger that there was nothing really worthwhile that he could do by remaining in Paris; yet he felt that it would be a mistake to leave the city precipitately. Should he do so without giving any adequate excuse, his disappearance was now certain to arouse considerable comment, and after another prolonged absence it would be more than doubly difficult to lie his way back a second time into the sort of position he held; in fact he could not possibly hope to do so. The limitation of his commitment to Mr. Pitt made it unlikely that he would wish to return; but all the same, it seemed like repudi­ating the good fortune with which he had been favoured by fate, not to consolidate his gains before, in due course, retiring smoo
thly from the scene with an aura of goodwill about him.

  In consequence, as his duties with Barras entailed little more than appearing on public occasions in a fine uniform as a member of that ostentatious potentate's staff, he shaved off his whiskers and moustache, and spent most of his time cultivating the society of the day. Many doors were already open to him, and through them he passed to others; so that within ten days he had become an accepted frequenter of the leading salons in Paris.

  Tallien had been known to Roger ever since the desperate night upon which the legally elected members of the Municipality of Paris had been violently deposed to make way for the Commune, and during die even more desperate days of Thermidor they had risked their lives together to bring about the fall of Robespierre. As an opener of doors, no one could now have served better; for, not only had he just been made the head of a Committee charged with governing until the new Constitution came into force, but as Fouchg had informed Roger, his wife had become the most influential woman in Paris.

  Theresa Tallien was the daughter of the Spanish banker Francois Cabarrus, and the divorced wife of the Comte de Fontenay. Talhen, while deluging Bordeaux in blood as a Representant en Mission, had seen her, fallen in love with her on sight, saved her from the guillotine and, after the fall of Robespierre, married her. In the meantime, by her influence over him she had saved many other people; and such was her beauty, compassion and grace that she had become known as 'Our Lady Thermidor'.

  Recently she had taken a large house called the Chaumiere right out in the market garden area between the Rond-point and the Seine, and had had it done up to look like a stage farm. In spite of its being so far from central Paris all the smart world now flocked to it; so in her salon there Roger met numerous old friends and made several new ones. Among the latter was a ci-devant Marquise of great intelligence and charm named Madame de Chateau-Renault, and it was in her salon a few nights later that he was first presented to Madame de Beauhamais, the ravishing brunette whom he had seen leave Barras's house on the night of the 12th-13th Vendemiaire. She was known as La belle Creole and was certainly a very handsome woman, although her nose was slightly retrousse and her ready smile was robbed of much of its attraction by her bad teeth.