With a frown, Roger changed the subject. ‘All you tell me of the situation here seems quite extraordinary. Berthier’s ability to bring up reinforcements by roads on which they will not converge and become congested is known to us all. But what of the Emperor? Has he not used that great brain of his to devise some policy that would cause dissension among our enemies, so that they no longer have a concerted strategy and we could defeat them piecemeal?’
‘Mon ami, it is quite a time since you have been with us at headquarters. Believe it or not, Napoleon has ceased to be interested in waging war. With him here he has the Countess Maria Walewska. Admittedly, she is a charming young creature: dignified, modest, unambitious. Having now been repudiated by her old husband, she has accepted our master wholeheartedly, and he has become a changed man. The years have dropped from him, and his is like a youth in his teens; positively besotted by her. For weeks past they have been enjoying a honeymoon. For days at a time he never emerges from their suite, and refuses all pleas to discuss business. For ten days or more I have had here missions from both the Grand Turk and the Great Sophy. Only once has he consented to receive these Turkish and Persian emissaries. Yet both could prove invaluable allies in harassing the Czar. Naturally, they have become resentful and contumacious; but there is nothing I can do about it.’
Roger expressed his sympathy, while inwardly much pleased that it looked as though, at last, England’s archenemy was losing his grip and might, in a few weeks’ time, be so thoroughly defeated by the Russians and Prussians that his gimcrack Empire would fall to pieces and Europe be restored to its pre-revolutionary state.
Having asked Duroc to request an audience with the Emperor for him as soon as possible, they adjourned to the senior officers’ Mess. There Roger was greeted with delight by many of his old comrades; but several of them were missing, and he learned to his distress that they had died at Eylau.
For three days Roger waited without receiving any summons from his master, and he became more and more impatient at the delay, because he had long been cherishing a means of getting out of Poland as soon as his exchange had been effected.
For a long time past, he had owned a small château near St. Maxime, in the South of France and, on the excuse of a weak chest, aggravated by a bullet through his lung at Marengo, he had usually obtained long leave to winter there; which gave him an opportunity to slip over to England and report very fully to Mr. Pitt all that was going on in France.
But this year he had been caught out. After returning to France in the previous May, he had thoroughly enjoyed his summer in Paris, and it was not his custom to apply for winter leave until December; so he had naturally accompanied the Emperor when, in September, he had left Paris to open his campaign against Prussia. After the double victory of Jena-Auerstädt, he had welcomed—being a born lover of travel and never having been to either Berlin or Warsaw—the chance of spending a few weeks in both those cities; so, when December had come, as he was no longer in the service of the British Government and, anyway, had nothing to report that could be of help to his now moribund country, instead of asking for leave he had lingered on at the Emperor’s headquarters. Napoleon’s taking the field again in January, much earlier than anyone had expected, had put Roger in an awkward position. To have applied then to spend the remainder of the winter months in the sunshine of the South of France would be regarded as an act of cowardice by many of his comrades, who were unaware of his skilfully-established disability. In consequence, he had participated in the campaign which had ended for him at Eylau.
However, as the thaw had only just set in and several weeks of cold, foul weather were still to be expected, he had made up his mind that, immediately he saw Napoleon, he would ask for two months’ leave, in order to escape the miserable conditions that must continue to afflict the Army for some time to come. Instead, he would travel from Poland as swiftly as he could to the shores of the Mediterranean, where no one even thought of war, except to celebrate the Emperor’s victories with splendid dinners and lashings of champagne. There, as a rich and distinguished officer, he would lead a life of leisure, spiced with gay parties, in the company of elegant men, and pretty women who were not over-scrupulous about their morals.
No scruples about failing to serve Alexander troubled him. His code had always been ‘all’s fair in love and war’, and he had considered himself fully justified in misleading the Czar in order to obtain his freedom.
On the morning of his fourth day at Finckenstein, he was walking along a corridor when he suddenly saw the Emperor approaching.
Napoleon’s face lit up, and he exclaimed, ‘Ah! mon brave Breuc! I feared you dead. When they told me you had fallen prisoner to these devilish Russians and could be exchanged, I was truly delighted. And at this juncture you are more than welcome here. The Turks and the Persians have both sent missions to me. This has led to my conceiving a plan by which I can stab that young fool Alexander in the back. So I am sending General Gardane on a mission, first to the Great Turk, then to the Shah. It will consist of a number of officers. But I need one personally attached to me, who will privately keep me informed how well or ill the mission is progressing.’
Suddenly, Napoleon lifted a hand, seized the lobe of Roger’s left ear and tweaked it. ‘You, Breuc, with your knowledge of the East, are the very man for this. Procure for yourself everything you may require, at my expense, and be prepared to set off for Constantinople.’
6
The Greatest Statesman of his Age
Roger made a grimace of pain, for the way in which Napoleon tweaked people’s ears, although always a gesture of approbation, was far from gentle.
At the same moment he took in the disastrous effect that this idea of the Emperor’s could have on his own plans. No carefree, lazy days in the sunshine of the Riviera; no bathing in the warm sea from a sandy beach; no pleasant expeditions into Nice and St. Tropez, where he might make the acquaintance of some charming lady who would become his mistress and add rapture to his days and nights. Instead, an interminable journey over bad roads, staying overnight at pestiferous inns, down through the semi-barbarous Balkans to countries in which all desirable women were kept under guard in harems, and the food would probably prove disgusting. Somehow or other, he must dissuade the Emperor from sending him on this mission, which threatened to ruin the daydreams with which he had been entertaining himself for the past few weeks.
As soon as he had recovered, he said, ‘Sire, I have been extraordinarily lucky in that, with the chest trouble by which you know I am afflicted, I escaped pneumonia and death while a prisoner of the Russians; but I suffered severely at their hands, as you can see from my gaunt appearance. I was about to ask you for two months’ leave, so that I might recuperate in the South of France.’
Napoleon shrugged. ‘But, my dear Breuc, this mission on which I am about to send you will serve that purpose equally well. You will recall that, in the winter of ’99, at your own suggestion, instead of going to your château at St. Maxime you went as my confidential representative to the Caribbean, to report on the validity of the excuses made by my miserable Admirals for their lack of success against the English. This mission to Turkey and Persia is of a similar nature. It will take you from the cold and mists of this ghastly country to warm lands where there is the sunshine you need.’
Actually, it had been for Roger’s own personal, urgent reasons that, at that time, he had agreed to go out to the West Indies. But he could not admit that; so, hastily, he ventured on another tack. ‘Sire, I fear that I should be of little use as a member of such a party. I have never been to Turkey or Persia, and speak the language of neither country.’
Impatiently, the Emperor waved aside his objection. ‘That is of no importance. Well-qualified interpreters will be at your disposal, and ample funds to bribe those who act between Gardane and the Pasha and such people, to inform you of their conversations; so that you can report to me whether our mission is really making progress or if the despatches
I receive are designed to keep me in a good temper.’
Roger did not at all like this proposal that he should act as a spy on his brother officers. His report on the efficiency of the French Navy in the West Indies had been quite a different matter and one in which, by misleading Napoleon, he had been able to aid his own country. But, knowing his master’s lack of scruples, he made no protest about his own. Instead, he said:
‘I greatly doubt whether I would prove a sound judge of such negotiations; for I know nothing of the politics of these countries or the manner in which their leading men are accustomed to transact business.’
Napoleon immediately overrode these objections. ‘You will be passing through Warsaw. Talleyrand is there, and he will be able to tell you all about the aspirations of the Turks and Persians. As for their statesmen’s manner of doing business, the East is the East and you are better acquainted with the ways of Orientals than any other man on my personal staff.’
Again Roger was caught out. He owed his appointment as an aide-de-camp to the fact that he had travelled extensively in India and home by way of the Red Sea and Egypt. Napoleon had always been fascinated by the East, and it had so happened that after his first triumphant campaign in Italy, Roger, having just returned from India, had again been brought to his notice. Bonaparte, already visualising himself as Sultan of the Nile and another Alexander the Great, had spent several evenings listening enthralled to Roger’s accounts of his journey. Then, realising that he had many valuable qualities, the General had made him a permanent member of his staff.
In desperation, Roger declared, ‘Sire, you cannot lump all the countries of the East together as though they were inhabited by one people. In India alone, there are more different races, languages and religions than there are in Europe; and none of them has the faintest resemblance to the Persians, or the Turks.’
The Emperor’s face suddenly assumed a cunning look. ‘In that no doubt you are right. But that this mission should cause these countries to stir up trouble for the Czar is but one half of my intent. Gardane’s instructions are, while in Persia, to explore ways by which, after I have defeated Russia, in alliance with the Shah, we could most rapidly make a descent on India. And who, Breuc, knowing India so well, is better qualified to advise and assist him in such a reconnaissance?’
For Roger to point out that, although he was one of the comparatively few Europeans who had crossed the sub-continent from Calcutta to Bombay, he had no knowledge of one in a hundred of the cities and rivers in that vast territory was, he knew, futile. The Emperor assumed him to be as much an authority on it as a man who had ridden from San Sebastian to Gibraltar would be on Spain. And when Napoleon had formed an opinion on a matter, there was no altering it.
Maintaining his usual deferential and cheerful expression when in his master’s presence, but inwardly seething with rage, Roger realised that unless something quite unforeseen occurred, his hopes of luxuriating in the sunshine of the South of France had evaporated into moonshine, and that within a few days he would be on his way to Constantinople.
Nothing unforeseen did occur. On the contrary, the next morning Roger was sent for by Berthier. Like Murat, the Marshal had a passion for gorgeous uniforms, which he designed himself; but, unlike the handsome cavalryman, the ugly little Chief of Staff, with a head much too big for his body, succeeded only in making himself conspicuously grotesque. After congratulating Roger on having regained his freedom, he said:
‘His Majesty tells me that he has ordered you to join General Gardane’s mission which is proceeding to the East. He wishes me to inform you of the situation there and what we hope to achieve. The English have been attempting to detach the Turks from their alliance with us. So far they have failed, but the Sultan is having difficulties with his own people, so it is highly desirable that we should strengthen his position and attach him more firmly to us. This we intend to try to do by furnishing him with supplies of modern weapons and, in due course, sending French troops to his support. But Turkey alone is not powerful enough to make serious trouble for the Russians in that theatre, so the arrival here of a mission from the Shah has inspired the Emperor with the idea of bringing about a triple alliance consisting of France, Turkey and Persia.
‘Since the Persians are well disposed towards us and the Russians are their hereditary enemies, there is a good prospect that they would welcome the idea of joining the Turks and depriving the Czar of considerable territories adjacent to their countries while he is fully occupied by us up here in the north.’
‘To put it another way,’ Roger said, ‘the intention of our master is to create so much trouble for the Czar in the south that he will be compelled to despatch forces there that will seriously weaken his army opposed to us.’
Berthier nodded his massive head. ‘That is the intention; and, since the Persians have a considerable army of troops who have the reputation of stout fighters, it should succeed.’
‘I pray you may prove right. But, as they are only just emerging from the era of using bows and arrows, I foresee a few regiments of well-disciplined Russian Grenadiers making short work of attacks by such rabble.’
‘I disagree. If any horsemen in the world are the equal of the Cossacks, it is the Persians. Moreover, it is the intention of the Emperor not only to send large consignments of arms to the Sultan, but also to the Shah; and with them officers qualified to instruct the Generals of those Oriental sovereigns in the most modern methods of waging war.’
With a slightly cynical smile, Roger remarked, ‘I am happy to learn that our master’s new preoccupation has not altogether robbed him of the ability to enhance the probable success of his brilliant conceptions by supporting them with practical measures.’
Having no sense of humour, Berthier frowned. ‘His Majesty has laboured indefatigably on behalf of France; so no man is better entitled to a few weeks of relaxation. We come now to the question of India.’
‘Yes. The Emperor mentioned to me his designs upon that country.’
‘So he told me; but without specifying particulars. The Persians have waged war against the northern states of India for even longer than they have against the Russians. Once we have settled with the Czar, it is His Majesty’s intention to use them to facilitate our chasing the English out of India.
‘Gardane’s officers are to reconnoitre the routes to Delhi from Egypt, Syria and Persia, also the ports on the Red Sea and the Persian Gulf, with a view to expeditions being despatched both by land and sea. The Shah is to be persuaded to form a Corps of twelve thousand picked men, armed with French weapons, who will attack the Russians in Georgia; the bait being held out to him is the permanent annexation of that country. This Corps, later supported by twenty thousand French troops, will form the army for our advance to the East; and it is thought possible that the Mahratta Princes might be induced to join us. If so, we shall have forces of sufficient strength to overcome not only the British, but every other Maharajah who is sufficiently ill-advised to oppose us.’
This grandiose conception made it clear to Roger that, however much of Napoleon’s time might be going to dalliance with the little Polish Countess, he still found enough to evolve plans calculated to take his enemies by surprise and fill them with the greatest apprehension.
After a moment Berthier went on. ‘General Gardane is a very able man, and well suited to head such a mission; but His Majesty is of the opinion that you will prove of great assistance to him.’
‘In that he is entirely mistaken,’ Roger said earnestly, ‘and I beg you, Marshal, to disabuse his mind of this idea. It is true that I once travelled across India; but of Persia and Turkey I know nothing.’
‘Oh come, mon Colonel! How can you possibly say that? Both the Emperor and I are blessed with good memories. I recall that, while you were in Cairo, he had you arrested because you had broken into a Pasha’s harem, and made off with a lovely houri who turned out to be no less than a daughter of the late Sultan. Afterwards fortune favoured you and you
came to know her—er—intimately.’
‘True,’ Roger admitted. ‘But the Princess Zanthé’s mother was a French lady, born in Martinique, and Zanthé herself was married when very young to the Sultan’s Viceroy of Egypt. While in Constantinople, she had never been allowed outside the seraglio, so from her I learned nothing about the Turkish people—let alone the Sultan’s relations with other countries. She was, of course, a cousin of the present Sultan, Selim III, but no more than one of the countless relatives that result from the polygamy practised by these Oriental monarchs.’
Berthier shrugged and spread wide his square-fingered hands with their knobbly knuckles. ‘It is clear to me, Breuc, that you are averse to accompanying General Gardane to the East. But it has been decreed by the Emperor that you should; so that is the end of the matter. As frequently as possible, you will send confidential reports to me upon how matters are progressing. Now, you must forgive me if I terminate our interview, as I have a thousand things requiring my attention.’
His last hope of escaping this new assignment gone, Roger left the busy little Chief of Staff, and sought out General Gardane, whom he had met on several occasions, but knew only slightly.
Evil in a Mask Page 11