The General had already been informed that Roger was to accompany him and, although he naturally had no idea that this additional member of his mission had been charged to make confidential reports on his activities, he talked to him freely and as an equal, knowing Roger to be a member of the Emperor’s personal staff. Over several glasses of hay-scented vodka, they chatted for an hour on the situation in the East, and Roger was favourably impressed. Gardane was some years older than himself and, while he had not travelled so widely, appeared to be well informed about conditions in the countries at the eastern end of the Mediterranean. He was, moreover, forceful but well-mannered and urbane, which confirmed Roger’s view that Napoleon’s practice of frequently sending his more intelligent Generals as Ambassadors—where military matters were concerned—instead of professional diplomats, was a sound one.
To Roger’s surprise and chagrin, as they were taking leave of one another, the General said, ‘You are aware, of course, that we shall be setting out first thing tomorrow morning?’
It was the final blow to Roger’s hopes that he might yet think of a way to wriggle out of this unwelcome business. He could only bow and reply, ‘Mon Général, I look forward to accompanying you.’
Hurrying to the office of the Quartermaster General, he requisitioned everything he could think of that might make his long journey more endurable. In the afternoon, he paid Berthier another visit and secured from him an order on the Paymaster’s department. There he drew two hundred Napoleons in gold, which he stowed away in a money belt, and a draft on the French bankers in Constantinople for a further thousand.
That night, unhappy but now resigned, he went early to bed, wondering what this new twist of fate held in store for him.
It was the 12th April when General Gardane’s party left no Finckenstein. It consisted of no fewer than fifty persons: the senior officers were Roger, Colonel Couthon of the Engineers, a lanky, gloomy man; Colonel Ladue of the Artillery, a spry fellow with an impish sense of humour; Lieutenant-Colonel Rideau, a bewhiskered veteran of the Egyptian campaign and Lieutenant-Colonel Montdallion who, a few years earlier, had accompanied General Sebastiani on an exploratory mission in 1802, sent with the object of raising trouble for the British in Algiers, Egypt, Syria and the Ionian Isles. There were a dozen junior officers; the rest were cooks, grooms, servants and interpreters detached from the Turkish and Persian Missions, the greater part of which, after again being received by Napoleon, were to travel in easy stages back to their own countries.
Two days later, Gardane’s mission reached Warsaw, where they were to stay a night and supplement the meagre supply of provisions that was all they had been allowed to take with them from Finckenstein. Excusing himself to Gardane, Roger made straight for the ancient Palace which had for centuries housed the Kings of Poland and in which, after the Emperor had left it, Talleyrand had become the master.
After only a short delay, Roger was most warmly received by the ex-Bishop, now His Serene Highness the Prince de Benevento. Immaculate in black silk, lace ruffles and cravat, a square, gold quizzing glass dangling from his neck, and leaning on a jewelled malacca cane, this most potent survivor of the ancien régime, now just over fifty-three years of age, limped forward smiling, and said:
‘Cher ami. The news that you had survived Eylau reached me only two days ago. I was more delighted than I can say. But I see with concern that you, too, now have a limp.’
Roger returned his smile. ‘If only I can acquire the habit of making it as elegant as that of Your Highness, I’ll not complain. I suffered much hardship while I was a prisoner; but that I am still alive and again free is the great thing. How fares it with yourself?’
‘By no means happily. I still rejoice in technically holding the office of His Imperial Majesty’s Minister for Foreign Affairs; but in fact I am become no more than his chief sutler for the Army. Not a week passes but he replies to my recommendations about the foreign policies we should pursue. “I give not a damn for diplomacy. Send me bread, meat, anything you can lay your hands on for my troops, and fodder for the horses.” ’
With a laugh, Roger replied, ‘Surely that suits you well? Such contracts should serve greatly in adding to your already considerable fortune.’
Talleyrand sighed. ‘Alas, no. Unlike our friend, Fouché, it goes against my principles to acquire money by selling goods of poor quality to our own army. To support my modest tastes, I have had to make do by accepting now and then a pittance from one or other of our allies to further their interests—if, that is, their interests coincide with those of France.’
Roger glanced round, taking in his old friend’s conception of ‘modest tastes’. The room was a lofty, sixty-foot-long salon, with blue walls, gilded panels and a beautifully-painted ceiling, from which hung two large, crystal chandeliers. The carpet was Aubusson, the chairs covered in the finest petit-point. On a huge buhl desk stood a pair of solid gold, six-branched candelabra and, open near one of them, an oval velvet-lined case in which sparkled a fine diamond necklace—doubtless intended as a gift for some lovely Polish lady who had recently become the fastidious statesman’s latest mistress. He was, admittedly, living at the moment in commandeered ‘lodgings’, but the room was typical of the luxury with which he habitually surrounded himself, and it was well known that the bribes he had extracted from foreign Ambassadors during the past ten years had run into several hundred million francs.
Tinkling a silver hand-bell, Talleyrand went on. ‘You will, I trust, do me the pleasure of dining with me and sleeping here tonight. Then you can tell me all that has befallen you, and in what way I can be of service to you. No doubt you will recall my extreme dislike of work; but, alas, I still have some letters that I needs must glance through before they are despatched. My secretaries are reasonably competent at writing them for me, but there are times when they do not catch my exact shade of meaning. Meanwhile, I will have you conducted to an apartment, and wine sent up to refresh you after your journey.’
As Roger expressed his thanks, a servant appeared and took him up to a handsomely-furnished suite. There he luxuriated for a while in an enormous marble bath, drank a couple of glasses of champagne and cheerfully demolished a plate of Strasbourg pâté sandwiches.
At dinner he sat down with some twenty-five other people, several of whom he knew. Having for so long had to make do on spartan fare, he did full justice to an epicurean meal and a succession of fine wines, topped off with some Imperial Tokay his host had recently received as a present from the Emperor of Austria. After they left the table, Talleyrand devoted no more than half an hour to his other guests, then politely excused himself, and, leaning on Roger’s arm, led him away to a small library.
Talleyrand had not arrived in Berlin or Warsaw before Roger had left those cities, so it was a long time since they had met, and they had much to talk about. Roger gave a brief account of his misadventures after Eylau, then said:
‘I should be grateful to know whether you think this mission that I have so reluctantly been compelled to accompany is likely to prove successful.’
‘How well are you informed on Turkish and Persian affairs?’ Talleyrand enquired.
‘About Persia I know nothing; about Turkey a limited amount. You may perhaps recall my telling you that, while in Egypt and Syria, I had an affair with a Turkish Princess named Zanthé. From her I learned that extraordinary changes had taken place at the Sultan’s Court during her childhood. Her mother was Aimée Dubucq de Rivery, a young French lady born in Martinique, and a cousin of the Empress Josephine.’
Talleyrand nodded. ‘I have often heard the story of the strange prophecy made to these two young women by a soothsayer, that they would both become Queens. After being educated in France, when returning to Martinique, Aimée was captured by Barbary pirates, was she not, then sent by the Bey of Algiers to his master, the Sultan Abdul Hamid I as a present?’
‘Yes, and fate decreed her arrival at a very opportune moment. Abdul Hamid’s heir was Selim
, the son of Circassian Kadin who, at that time, was Sultan Validé—the mistress of all the women of the harem. One of Abdul Hamid’s wives, an evil woman, was endeavouring to persuade the Sultan to have Selim murdered, so that her own son, Mustapha, should succeed. The Circassian selected Aimée and trained her to win Abdul Hamid’s affections, which she did; and she succeeded in protecting Selim, so that he did succeed and is the present Sultan.’
Again Talleyrand nodded. ‘Aimée not only became Abdul Hamid’s principal wife, but has ever since enjoyed Selim’s devotion. Mahmoud, Aimée’s son, is the present Heir Apparent. It has long been the custom for Sultans to keep their heirs prisoner in special apartments from fear that they might conspire to supplant them. But Selim’s trust in Aimée is such that he has allowed her boy full freedom and acts as a father to him. Moreover, she has persuaded Selim to introduce many reforms, carries on a regular correspondence with her cousin Josephine, and was responsible for bringing about the alliance between Turkey and France. That was sadly shattered when Napoleon invaded Egypt in ’98, and deprived Turkey of one of her richest provinces; then at Aboukir totally destroyed the Turkish army sent against him. But in 1801 we restored Egypt to the Turks, so our alliance with them was renewed. Owing to this amazing woman, during the past twenty years the Sultan’s Court has become strongly impregnated with French culture.’
Roger shrugged. ‘I see, Prince, that you are as well informed regarding the Turkish royal family as myself. But I am completely ignorant about the situation and aspirations of the Turkish nation. For such enlightenment as you can give me, I should be truly grateful.’
Sitting back, Talleyrand replied, ‘The key to Turkey’s policy has for long been, and must continue to be, her relations with Russia. For many years the Russians have cast covetous eyes on the: Sultan’s dominions in the Balkans, with a view to gaining access to the Mediterranean. Since Catherine the Great’s time their hope of acquiring the Sultan’s European territories has increased, because the Turkish Empire is by no means the great power that it once was and, under Abdul Hamid, it suffered a still further decline.
‘As you are aware, owing to the practice of polygamy, by which every Sultan begets many sons, it became the horrible but usual practice of each Sultana to endeavour to have the sons of her co-wives put to death, in order to ensure the succession of one of her own sons. In escaping death, Abdul Hamid was fortunate, but the fathers, too, feared that one of their sons might have them assassinated in order to succeed. So this unfortunate Prince was kept prisoner by his predecessor, Mustapha III, in a gilded cage for forty-three years.’
‘Mon Dieu, how awful!’ Roger exclaimed.
‘A far from pleasant experience,’ Talleyrand concurred. ‘And, you will appreciate, not one calculated to produce a knowledgeable and strong ruler. In consequence, during the sixteens years of his reign, he lost control of a great part of his dominions. The Mamelukes defied his Viceroy in Egypt and virtually became the rulers of that country. Up on the Danube his tributary Princes, the Hospidars of Wallachia and Moldovia, refused to obey his firmens and the Serbians also proved extremely troublesome.
‘That was the situation when Selim III ascended the throne. Owing to the protection and unbringing of your—er—charming friend’s mother, he suffered none of his predecessor’s disabilities. On the contrary, he had imbibed Western ideas of a Sovereign’s duty to his people, and set out to introduce many reforms that would have benefited their lot.
‘But one must remember the vastness of his Empire. It stretches from Morocco to the Red Sea, from southern Arabia to the Danube, and includes the whole of the Balkans. Only a Roman Emperor with the wisdom of a Marcus Aurelius or the iron will of a Hadrian could control pro-Consuls appointed by him to rule great territories so far distant from his capital.
‘It is, therefore, not surprising that Selim’s attempts at reform have been constantly thwarted by the Pashas who are virtually subject Kings in his more remote dominions. Naturally, they are averse to any reduction in their power. He was faced with a rebellion by the Wahhabis in the Nejd, which he had great difficulty in putting down. The Serbians are demanding independence, and one of their patriot leaders named Kara George has made himself master of Belgrade. Further north, the Hospidars of Wallachia and Moldavia have treacherously sought Russian aid to defy him.
‘Last, but not least of his troubles are the Janissaries. As you must know, they are a picked corps numbering many thousands; mostly Circassians, taken from their mothers at birth and reared with the sole object of making them an admirably trained and absolutely loyal private army, prepared at any time to sacrifice their lives for their Sultan.
‘Time was when they were a much smaller body and served only as Household troops. But Abdul Hamid sent large detachments of them to strengthen his armies in distant provinces. During the past few years, a number of these professional warriors have gone over to the Pashas who defy Selim’s authority. Even his own Praetorian Guard in Constantinople has become disaffected, because they are averse to the reforms he would like to introduce.
‘He has made a shrewd move to counter that by creating a new corps, known as the Nizam-i-jedad. They are mainly Turks who are said to be dovoted to him; but every year he strengthens this new corps by transferring a number of picked Janissaries into it, giving them special privileges. Whether he is wise in that, I have my doubts.
‘To maintain himself he must have either the support of England or France. England is now Russia’s ally, and the Russians are aiding his rebel Pashas on the Danube; so recently he has become more than ever pro-French. Aimée still has great influence with him, and lately she has had the able support of General Sebastiani, who arrived in Constantinople as our Ambassador last August. You may recall that, in 1803, Bonaparte sent him to make a reconnaissance of Algeria, Egypt, Syria and the Ionian Isles, and his report proved most valuable. He is an excellent man: charming, shrewd and audacious. In him you will find a very valuable collaborator. Incidentally, he married the charming Fanny de Coigny, whose father you may recall in the old days at Versailles as a close friend of Queen Marie Antoinette.’
Roger nodded, and the statesman went on. ‘From all that I have said, you will realise that General Gardane’s mission will prove no easy one. The Sultan Selim has his hands full enough maintaining order in his own dominions, and I greatly doubt if he will be able to raise sufficient troops to launch an offensive against the Muscovites that would cause the Czar serious concern.’
‘And what of Persia?’ Roger enquired.
‘For the Persians I have a great admiration,’ Talleyrand replied. ‘They were one of the first races in the world to become civilised, and centuries later they were the only nation that succeeded in defeating the Roman legions.’ Giving a sudden smile, he added, ‘Except your mother’s people, the Scots. But I have been told that was mainly due to there being such a profusion of thistles in the country that they proved a serious affliction on the legionaries’ bare legs—and, anyhow, there was nothing further north that made the country worth conquering.’
Roger laughed. ‘The Scots had bare legs, too, so it must be that they were hardier. But Persia has suffered many defeats since Roman times.’
‘True. She was, of course, overrun in the seventh century by the great wave of Arab conquest that established the Mohammedan religion throughout all North Africa and the Near East; and again in the twelfth century by the Mongol hordes. But she never lost her identity. Even her religion differs as much from the more generally accepted Islamic creed as Protestantism does from Catholicism; and, in certain areas, the ancient cult of Zoroaster continues to flourish after two thousand years.
‘Through the ages Persia’s contribution to the arts and sciences has been immense. While Athens was still only a city state, Cyrus and Darius lived in palaces that rivalled those of Babylon. While we in Europe were passing through the Dark Ages, the Islamic nations produced doctors, philosophers and astronomers of the first rank. Avicenna, the greatest o
f them all, was a Persian. Their poets, Firdusi, Sa’adi and Hafiz wrote the most beautiful of all the works that have come out of the East, and their countrymen held them in greater esteem then than they did their victorious generals. At the time of the Italian Renaissance, Persia, too, had a Renaissance; although neither had any connection with the other. Their paintings on ivory, and designs for rugs and tiles during that period have never been surpassed; the mosques and palaces they built were miracles of skill and good taste. They were great gardeners and to them we owe the development of many of our most beautiful flowers. Believe me, I count you lucky to be going to this land of silks and roses.’
‘You certainly console me considerably for having to make this long and wearisome journey,’ Roger remarked. ‘But you have been speaking of the past. What of the present? Have they continued to progress, and do you think it likely that they will welcome a French delegation?’
‘To the best of my belief, life in Persia has altered little from the days of Shah Abbas the Great. He reigned some two hundred years ago. It was he who was responsible for the regeneration of Persia by his eager patronage of the many talented men of his own generation, and he was the first ruler to open his country to Europeans. Not long after the Portuguese rounded the Cape of Good Hope, they formed a fortified settlement on the island of Hormerz in the Persian Gulf. With their more modern ships and weapons, they were able to terrorise the Persians, raid their ports and they treated the people most brutally. Naturally, the Shah regarded them with bitter enmity. Then a hundred years later, when Abbas the Great was on the throne, the English appeared on the scene and drove the Portuguese out.
‘Abbas showed his gratitude by giving them trading facilities, to the great benefit of both nations. The French arrived later and it was largely to the establishment by the Capuchin Fathers of a monastery in Isfahan that we owe our influence. The present situation is favourable to us. You will recall that, in 1800, Napoleon had secured the goodwill of the Czar Paul. Between them they concerted a plan to invade India by way of Persia, and asked the assistance of the still-reigning Shah, Fath Ali. The English got to hear of the project, and sent as an agent from India a Captain John Malcolm. He was an able man and persuaded the Shah to oppose the project. But it fell through altogether on account of the Czar Paul’s assassination, and his young successor, Alexander, turning against France. Very stupidly, the English then withdrew Malcolm and have since had no representative at the Shah’s Court. It follows that, as one of Fath Ali’s dearest ambitions is to recover Georgia from the Russians and as Gardane will meet with no outside opposition, there is a very good chance that the Shah will now agree to become France’s ally.’
Evil in a Mask Page 12