THE GENERALS Page 8

  ‘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 towards. 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 the 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.’

  ‘Send him in.’

  Lord Camden was standing at the window, gazing down into the courtyard and sipping from a brandy glass. He turned as Arthur entered and frowned.

  ‘Let me guess. You want me to find you some lucrative employment. Well? Since I’ve arrived here I’ve been deluged with office-seekers. So what’s your claim on me, eh?’

  Arthur was taken aback by the instant incivility of the man. ‘My lord, I merely wish to serve my country in some capacity that will be mutually rewarding. I see no wrong in that.’

  ‘You wouldn’t. I’m the one who has to field all the requests from ambitious young men like you. If that wasn’t bad enough, I’m bombarded with letters of recommendation from mothers, brothers, fathers, friends of fathers and fathers of friends and so on and so on, caught like a fly in a web of nepotism. No laughing matter, I can assure you.’

  ‘I can imagine,’ Arthur replied tactfully.

  Lord Camden fixed him with narrowed eyes. ‘Oh really? I shouldn’t think you would have to exert your imagination.Your brother has already written to humbly request an office worthy of your qualities of . . . of . . .’ He paused, paced over to his desk and fanned through a pile of letters until he found the one he wanted. ‘Ah! Here it is . . . your qualities of industry and integrity. Hardly a ringing endorsement, is it? But since your brother is racing up through the political ranks in London and I may well have need of his patronage for my own family and friends one day, I’ll see what I can do for you, Wesley. Did you have a position in mind?’

  ‘Yes, my lord,’ Arthur replied evenly. But inside his heart was beating swiftly and he felt the anxious excitement of any man about to request the most generous of favours.

  ‘Well, spit it out, man.’

  ‘My lord, since the office of Secretary at War is not yet filled, I would like to be considered for it.’

  Lord Camden raised his eyebrows and stared at Arthur for a moment before he recovered from his surprise enough to reply. ‘Upon my soul, you don’t ask for much, do you? Secretary at War? What on earth makes you think I should consider you for such an important position?’

  It was Arthur’s turn to be shocked by open candour. ‘I believe I am well matched to the duties and responsibilities of the post, my lord. I have several years of military experience.’

  Lord Camden wagged a finger at him.‘You have several years’ experience as an aide. Drinking, dancing, gambling and whoring. What bloody good is that?’

  ‘I served under the Duke ofYork in the Low Countries. I have been under fire, my lord, and led my men to safety in the following retreat.’

  ‘So you were roundly thrashed? And you think that is supposed to support your application? I’m looking for a Secretary at War, not a Secretary at Retreat, Wesley. Face facts, man. You are too young and too inexperienced for the job. Besides, even if you were the best soldier in Ireland it still wouldn’t matter. I need an experienced politician, not a soldier. Bloody country is on the verge of revolt. I have Grattan and his cronies pushing for reform on one side and the rump of the Tories pressing me to stamp down on the reformers on the other. I have to find a man who can handle both camps with aplomb. Do you really think you could do that?’

  He stared hard at Arthur and the latter knew that his bluff had been called. And it wounded his pride painfully to accept that Lord Camden was right in his judgement of him.

  ‘I see that you understand me, Wesley. Don’t take it badly. Besides, it’s not as if you’re the first man to apply for the post. Half these letters are in support of far better candidates than you, and many of their sponsors are much better connected than your brother Richard.’

  Arthur felt a pit of despair open inside as he took in the implications of what Lord Camden was saying. Arthur lacked the connections that would give him a chance to secure the position, and he was dismayed, not just by this rebuff, but by his longer term prospects within a system so bound up with mutual favours exchanged between powerful families. It was not fair, but he forced his expression to remain composed. Even though there was no justice or logic to the system, there was no profit in protesting against it. Arthur needed employment now. He cleared his throat.

  ‘Very well, my lord, if I am not to be Secretary at War, then perhaps I might be considered for another position. A seat on the treasury or revenue boards would be well within my capabilities.’

  ‘I’m sure it would,’ Lord Camden agreed.‘I will see what I can find for you. As a favour to Richard. I’ll let you know the instant I have anything.’ He stood to one side and stretched his arm out loosely in the direction of the door, and Arthur took the hint and bowed his head in farewell.

  ‘My thanks to you for seeing me at such a busy time, my lord.’

  ‘My pleasure,Wesley,’ Lord Camden replied automatically.‘Do please pass on my very best wishe
s to your brother when you next write to him.’

  ‘Yes, my lord.’ Arthur nodded and turned to leave the office. He marched out stiffly.

  As he left the castle it began to rain and Arthur pulled up his collar and wedged his bicorn down tightly over his head. It was time, he told himself, to speak to Kitty. He had not seen her since he had left for the ill-starred campaign in the Low Countries. Even if her brother had refused to let them marry, he could at least find out if her heart was still his.

  Chapter 11

  Arthur could not face going to see Kitty in her own home, in case Tom was there. It was not that he had any fear of Tom. On the contrary, he held the man in contempt for his boorish obsession with money. It was just that Arthur’s presence would only aggravate an already difficult situation, and make the chance of any improvement in relations with Tom less likely. The longer it took to win Tom’s approval the more chance there was that Kitty would lose interest in him or, worse, have her head turned by another suitor. There were plenty of other young men in Dublin who were far more attractive propositions than an impecunious lieutenant colonel of foot.