The Generals r-2 Read online

  ‘I will do what I like, my boy. And when is this farce going to be made legally binding?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Napoleon admitted. ‘We haven’t settled on a date yet.’

  ‘Well I should, and soon. I imagine that Paris folk are not inclined to respect the sanctity of the marriage bed. Best to get yourself married before any bastards spoil things.’

  ‘We are already lovers, Mother.’

  There was no expression of surprise or horror on Letizia’s face, just a look of disdain and disgust.‘I see. In that case you leave me no choice. Marry the woman and be done with it. Just never expect me to be her friend, or to approve your choice. You’ve soiled your bed. Now you must lie in it.’

  Napoleon forced a smile. ‘You give your blessing then?’

  ‘Yes,’ she replied through clenched teeth.

  Joseph stood up and grasped his brother’s hands.‘May I be the first to offer my congratulations?’

  His face was sincere and for the first time in years Napoleon felt the grateful affection he had known as a small child at the school in Autun where Joseph had done everything in his power to protect his prickly young brother.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said.

  After a moment’s hesitation Lucien rose to his feet and joined his brothers. ‘I offer my best wishes as well. If she’s as well connected as I hear, she will be a useful ally to have in Paris. Don’t worry about what I said about Paul Barras. Most of those I spoke to said he had grown tired of her and was grateful to have her off his hands.’

  Napoleon stared at him for a moment before replying in a tone of strained calm. ‘Thank you for that, Lucien. It’s a comfort to know.’

  Letizia snorted and rose from her chair. ‘Good luck and good riddance. I’ll leave you three fools to yourselves, then.’

  She stormed from the room, shutting the door loudly behind her. The brothers exchanged a look and then Napoleon burst into laughter.

  Even as he wooed Josephine Napoleon did his best to ingratiate himself with her children. Despite his gifts and the efforts he made to befriend them Napoleon sensed their reserve. It was only natural, he reflected.The memory of their father’s arrest, trial and execution was still fresh in their minds and their mother’s latest suitor must compare unfavourably with the tall, well-mannered soldier whose cultured tones and noble bearing were fixed in their memories. On the other hand, Napoleon comforted himself, they could not but prefer him to the glib politician, Barras.

  Napoleon saw Josephine almost every day, even though he was embroiled in organising the morass of details that needed to be drawn together and given shape so that the armies of the republic could fight and defeat the enemy. His particular field of expertise related to the Army of Italy and the problem of driving Austria out of the northern areas of the Italian peninsula and claiming them for France.The more he considered the matter the more Napoleon convinced himself that Austria could be beaten, provided his plans were carried through with sufficient dash by the officer who was entrusted with command of the Army of Italy.

  One day, as he was walking in the Tuileries garden with Josephine and had just dealt with yet another group of well-wishers, overawed to meet the soldier who had saved the government from the mob, he turned to her and said sadly, ‘Your children, I think, would rather you did not marry me.’

  ‘They are children.’ Josephine shrugged. ‘Their hearts will change, given time.They will come to know you well enough to appreciate your qualities.’ She slipped her hand under his arm and squeezed it. ‘Be patient, my dear.’

  ‘I would be patient, if I could only control my heart. I want you so much that I would marry you this day if I could. But I am afraid that if your children bear me any ill will it will act as a wedge in your affections. Perhaps we should delay our wedding for a while.’

  She stopped and turned on him quickly. ‘Delay? Why?’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘What is it, Napoleon? Do you no longer love me?’

  ‘Yes! Yes, of course I do.’ He cupped her cheek in his hand. ‘Never doubt that. I just want to be sure that nothing stands between us when we become man and wife. I swear that’s all I meant. I should like to have the chance to achieve something that Eugène and Hortense could be proud of, so that they would be pleased that you married me.’

  Josephine smiled briefly.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Oh, just something I heard the other day. A rumour,’ she added quickly.‘You might get that chance sooner than you think.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I will not say. I am sworn to secrecy.’

  ‘Tell me.’

  ‘No.’ She pressed a finger to his lips.‘You’ll see. I won’t say any more for now. But we must not worry about the children.When they see how happy I am I promise you they will be happy for me, and accept you.’

  ‘I hope so,’ Napoleon replied, but his mind had already moved on to other things. What was this rumour that Josephine had mentioned?

  Early in the new year they settled on a June date for their wedding. Napoleon would be busy until then co-ordinating the military effort in Italy. After that he would take leave and they would honeymoon in Normandy. Or so they thought, until Napoleon was summoned to the Tuileries for an interview with Paul Barras. It was late in January and cold rain swept the streets of the capital. As his coach drew up in the courtyard Napoleon pulled up his collar and dived out, trotting quickly up the steps into the entrance hall. Barras was alone in his office when the young general was ushered inside. He dispensed with formalities and waved Napoleon to the chair opposite his desk.

  ‘How are the preparations coming for the new campaign?’

  Napoleon instantly collected his thoughts as he made his report. ‘The operational plan is complete. My staff has calculated the logistical requirements and rations and ammunition should be arriving at the forward depots this week. However, General Masséna reports that all three divisions of the army urgently require fresh drafts of replacements as well as boots, uniforms, muskets and their back pay. Otherwise he cannot guarantee the success of the campaign.’

  Barras nodded his head and smiled indulgently. ‘That’s all I seem to hear from our generals these days. Constant demands for more men and more supplies or all is lost. The army appears to have been struck down by an epidemic of exaggeration. Tell me, General, if you were in Masséna’s boots, and you could not count on all the things he has asked for, what would you do?’

  Napoleon raised his eyebrows. ‘If France could not supply what I needed then I would take my supplies from somewhere else.The north of Italy is a prosperous land.They have productive farms and wealthy cities. An army could live off the land very comfortably indeed.’

  ‘I see.Then you would make the people we saved from Austrian domination pay for the privilege. Hardly an ethical proposition.’

  ‘War is not ethical, citizen.’

  Barras took a deep breath.‘Perhaps it is best for both of us that you are a soldier, Bonaparte. As it is you have become something of an idol for our people. Perhaps it would be best if you were found employment outside Paris. Your fame is making the politicians nervous.’

  ‘Citizen, I am loyal to the republic.’

  ‘I know that,’ Barras replied with a quick smile. ‘But there are some men who have always been unnerved by the popularity of our military heroes, and they are watching you carefully, even now. As much for your own protection then, you must be found a position some distance from the centre of power.’

  Napoleon sensed the direction the discussion was about to take and leaned forward to tap his finger loudly on Barras’s desk. ‘I will not be sent to the Army of the West.’

  ‘You will do as you are ordered, General,’ Barras said firmly. He held up his hand to forestall any angry response. ‘However, that is not the decision I have made. As it happens, I want to offer you the command of the Army of Italy.’

  Napoleon was stunned. This was the opportunity that his entire military career so far had been working toward
s. The chance to put all his ideas to the test, to ensure that the planned campaign was conducted precisely according to his intentions. Then a cold suspicion filled his thoughts and he looked at Barras with narrowed eyes.

  ‘Why me? There are plenty of other men to choose from.’

  ‘You drew up the plans for the coming campaign, and I think you have the qualities that will ensure the best chance of success. This campaign may make your reputation. If you succeed, then, of course, I will take credit for choosing you for the command.’

  ‘And if I fail?’

  ‘Then it will be the end of any military or political ambitions you may have. Do you accept the post?’

  ‘Yes,’ Napoleon replied at once. ‘And I will not fail France.’

  ‘Very well,’ Barras replied with a relieved expression. ‘I will have the necessary papers drafted. There’s little time before the campaign season begins.You must take up the command before April. Can you be ready by then?’

  ‘Of course, citizen. I will need to brief my subordinates at the bureau and select my staff officers. There are some personal matters that need to be attended to as well.’

  ‘So I have heard. Congratulations.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Napoleon smiled ruefully. ‘Though I dare say Josephine will not thank me for pre-empting our plans.’

  ‘I think you will find that Madame Beauharnais is sufficiently adaptable to cope. I know her well enough to assure you of that.’

  In the short time that was left Napoleon flew through the many tasks that required his attention before he could take up the command. He offered posts on his headquarters staff to Murat and Junot and requested the recall of Marmont from the Army of the Rhine.The position of Chief of Staff was given to General Berthier, a colleague from the bureau of topography who had sound administrative skills. Uniforms were ordered, horses purchased, a travelling library selected and arrangements made for the care of his family while he was away on campaign. More important still was the need to bring forward the wedding and find a home for his new wife.

  Late in the afternoon of 9 March, in a register office close to the new house Napoleon had leased on the Rue Chantereine, there was a small gathering of family and friends. Josephine arrived first, accompanied by Paul Barras who had offered to be one of the witnesses. Napoleon was over an hour late, delayed by the need to reply to some urgent dispatches. He hurried into the register office, flushed and breathless, still in his plain uniform coat. Letizia, who had been enjoying the delay, hoping that her son had at last seen reason, slumped back on her chair in dejection.

  ‘If we may proceed?’ the registrar said impatiently.

  ‘By all means,’ Napoleon panted, and the official went through the procedure in a weary monotone.

  Josephine dug him in the ribs and whispered fiercely, ‘Thanks for making me look a fool in front of my friends.’

  Napoleon glanced round and could see only Barras and a handful of others. He whispered back, ‘Those who could be bothered to come, at least.’

  ‘You swine.’

  ‘We’re here,’ Napoleon whispered softly. ‘That’s all that matters, my love.’

  ‘I had hoped for something grander than this.’

  ‘There was no time to organise anything else,’ Napoleon protested. ‘Some day, we’ll make it more formal, I swear it. A ceremony you can be proud of to your dying day.’

  The registrar coughed and leaned towards them. ‘If you don’t mind, I’d rather complete the formalities before you have your first matrimonial row.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ Napoleon blushed. ‘I’m sorry.’

  The registrar glared at him for a moment before returning to his script and continuing with the ceremony. When it was over, Napoleon and Josephine signed their names, witnessed by Barras and Joseph.There was a small reception in the new house before the guests left and the newly wed couple retired to their bedroom and closed the door behind them.

  ‘Still angry with me?’ Napoleon smiled, his fingers gently untying the straps of her bodice. She stood stiffly before him, trying to keep her face fixed in a stern expression of rebuke.

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Well then, let us see whether I can persuade you to forgive me . . .’

  Two days later, as dawn broke over Paris, Napoleon stepped out of the house he had lived in for barely a week. Outside in the street Junot was waiting for him, holding the reins of their horses. The rest of the staff and his baggage had been sent ahead a few days earlier and there would be a long hard ride before they caught up with them. Napoleon swung up into his saddle, adjusted his reins and then turned to look at the bow window on the first floor. Through the glass he could see Josephine gazing down at him, her arms clasped about her body as if she were cold. Their eyes stayed fixed on each other for a moment, and Junot, sensitive to their need, turned his horse away and made for the end of the street. Napoleon mouthed words of his love, then waved one hand in a gentle gesture of farewell and rode off to war.

  Chapter 10

  Arthur

  Dublin, 1795

  After the frozen horrors of the campaign in the Low Countries, Lieutenant Colonel Arthur Wesley returned to Dublin with a warm sense of familiarity and comfort. He was gaunt and thin after the harrowing experience of the campaign and his eyes seemed sunken on either side of his large hooked nose. Exercise and hearty eating would soon restore him to his normal athletic build, but the callowness of youth had been left behind on the battlefield and he was filled with determination to improve himself, and defend his country from the ravenous appetite of revolutionary France.

  Even though he had been glad to quit his role as aide-decamp at the castle to lead the 33rd regiment of foot against the French, the terrible reality of war had taught Arthur to appreciate the easy-going life he had lived before.There would be no more of the stomach-gnawing hunger, no more of the cold that penetrated to the core of his being and made surrendering to its final embrace so tempting. For the present he was at home, amongst friends, and most important of all he would have the chance to see Kitty Pakenham again. Since moving into the family house in Rutland Square, Kitty had become a frequent visitor to the court in Dublin Castle, and Arthur, like many other young gentlemen, had quickly fallen under the spell of her gentle, teasing nature and indefinable charm. He had not seen her for several months, and as he made his way from his modest lodgings in Fostertown to the new Lord Lieutenant’s suite of offices in Dublin Castle, he indulged in the memory of the light brown curls that surrounded the delicate features of her face. He recalled, with a quickening pulse, the fine whiteness of her complexion and the faint scent of her skin as he had kissed her on the balcony outside the ballroom of Dublin Castle one night the previous summer.

  Then the spell was broken as he recalled the harsh rebuff he had received from Kitty’s brother, Tom, when he had asked for her hand in marriage. As a younger brother of the Earl of Mornington, Arthur had no inheritance and lived on his army pay, an allowance from his eldest brother, Richard, and whatever he could borrow from the family’s land agent in Dublin. Hardly a decent prospect for Kitty, he conceded. Unless he could make a name for himself as a soldier or a statesman he was doomed never to win her. Just as fate had denied him an inheritance, it had also withheld the intellectual brilliance that had been so generously apportioned to his brothers, especially Richard and young Henry. While Richard was a rising star in Pitt’s government, and had recently been appointed to the Board of Control of the Indian Colonies, Henry had already embarked on a promising diplomatic career. Arthur felt a stab of frustration at his lack of advancement.

  Even though England was at war, her army was small and dispersed across the world and there were few opportunities to win swift promotion and fame. The situation of his rivals in France was very different, Arthur reflected. With the aristocrats swept away the field was open for men of talent. Like that fellow Arthur had read of in a newspaper account of the siege of Toulon. He frowned for a moment and then recalled t
he name of the artillery officer who had masterminded the French victory. Bonaparte. A man of the same age as Arthur, and already a brigadier. If their situations had been reversed Arthur felt certain he would have achieved as much, and for a moment he was aware of a bitter resentment of the enemy officer’s good fortune. Then he pulled his heavy army coat more tightly round his shoulders, and exchanged a salute with the sentries guarding the castle entrance, as he trudged inside.

  In addition to his light duties as an aide to the Lord Lieutenant, Arthur had resumed his seat as member of parliament for Trim, and was resolved to make something of a political career for himself, since the army provided little opportunity of advancement for the moment. He had requested this interview with Lord Camden with a view to being given a prominent office in the Irish parliament. It would be an opportunity to gain the experience he would need when he followed his older brother Richard into the English parliament and on to the first rung of the political ladder at Westminster. In the shorter term it would also lead to a significant increase in his income, enough perhaps to impress Tom Pakenham.

  Making his way into Lord Camden’s suite of offices, Arthur presented himself to the Lord Lieutenant’s duty aide, a young cavalry lieutenant in a smartly cut jacket and long, gleaming boots. His face, thin and fresh, was unfamiliar and Arthur realised that he must be a recent appointment, enjoying his first posting. For a moment Arthur felt a twinge of envy as he saw himself several years earlier - free of the burdens of mounting debt and anxiety over the dwindling prospects of a worthy career.

  ‘Sir?’ The lieutenant addressed him. ‘May I help you?’

  ‘I have an appointment with his lordship. Lieutenant Colonel Wesley.’

  The aide bent over the diary on his desk and ran a finger down the entries until he found the name, and the note beside it. ‘Ah, yes. Please follow me, sir.’ He rose from his chair, crossed to a door and knocked sharply before opening it. ‘Lieutenant Colonel Wesley, my lord.’