Authors: Simon Scarrow
THE GENERALS (81 page)
Napoleon took a deep breath. ‘I propose that we abolish the laws proscribing the nobles and allow them to return to France. Furthermore, we return their property to them.’
‘Not the land already in the hands of the peasants, surely? If we did that there’d be another revolution. One we’d not survive.’
‘Very well,’ Napoleon conceded.‘We return as much property as we can. And one other thing. We must make a treaty with the Church of Rome.’
‘What kind of treaty?’
‘We have to restore the church in France.’
‘Are you mad, brother? After all that the church has done to the common people over the centuries? After all the money it has taken from their purses? After all the food it has taken from their mouths? The radicals would not stand for it. In case you hadn’t noticed, most of those radicals happen to be in the army. Are you prepared to put their loyalty to the test?’
‘No.That is why any such treaty must be negotiated in secret. And the church must be subordinate to the state. The common people can have their religion, they can have their Catholic church, as long as it is controlled by us, and not by Rome.’
‘Forgive me, First Consul,’ Fouché said quietly, ‘but your brother is right - my agents keep me briefed on the feeling amongst the soldiers. It is too dangerous to even attempt it.’
‘It is too dangerous not to,’ Napoleon replied. ‘We need the common people behind us.We need to deny them any reason to offer their loyalty to our enemies. Besides, soldiers forget their politics the moment they march off to war.’
Talleyrand stirred. ‘That sounds like an argument for making war.’
‘Not this time.’ Napoleon reflected for a moment. ‘But war does serve a purpose as much within a society as without.’
‘Until a society grows weary of it. As weary as France is now.’
‘We’ll know if that’s true soon enough,’ Napoleon concluded. ‘In the meantime we must deal with Austria. If they play their game as they did before they will drag the negotiations out for as long as possible while they prepare to renew the fight. In which case there will be more war, whether our people like it or not. It is your job, Fouché, to silence those we cannot win round.’
‘I will see to it,’ Fouché replied evenly.
‘Good.’ Napoleon nodded. Fouché’s slightly reptilian features unnerved him. Napoleon had no doubt that the Minister of the Interior would use any measure needed to suppress opposition to the new order. It was regrettable, thought Napoleon, but the need for repressive action had been forced on him by the enemies of France. Political freedom was a luxury at the best of times. Besides, what did the common peasant or soldier in the ranks really care about such refined notions as a free press? As long as they were fed and entertained then they were content. And, better still, they could be counted on to support Napoleon against the lawyers, philosophers and radicals who formed the core of those opposed to the consulate. In time, when there was true peace, there might be occasion to let people express themselves more freely.
Until then France must be saved from herself before she could be saved from her enemies.
Having signed the peace preliminaries the Austrians delayed moves towards a peace treaty when negotiations opened at Lunéville, just as Napoleon had expected. The Austrian envoys presented a long list of their terms, few of which Napoleon could agree to. Nevertheless it granted the French armies a chance to rest through the long summer months. Meanwhile, in Paris, Napoleon worked feverishly to reform the governance of the country.
A commission was set up to frame a new legal code that would sweep away all the regional anomalies and update the civil, criminal and financial laws of France. Napoleon attended as many meetings as he could, driving its business forward until the first draft was ready four months later. Plans were made to improve roads, ports and canals.Theatres were to be subsidised to help keep the people entertained and provision was made for the care of more than ten thousand wounded veterans who had returned from the wars. Joseph led a small party of church figures to Rome to open negotiations with the Pope for the restoration of the Catholic church in France. Before Joseph left Paris, Napoleon made it clear to him that the final concordat would not include any provision for priests to collect tithes, nor would any property of the church be returned, and the appointment of bishops would have to be approved by the French government.
All this frantic activity consumed much of Napoleon’s time. He rose before dawn and was dressed and had breakfasted by six in the morning. Then he went to his private office, read the pile of documents prepared for him by Bourrienne and scribbled notes in the margins, and dictated his responses to the team of secretaries standing by, pens poised. At noon he had a brief lunch and moved on to attend some of the committees he had instituted to rebuild the nation along more modern, efficient lines.Then there would be a late dinner, after which, if there was no pressing business that still needed attending to, Napoleon joined Josephine and a small inner circle of his family and friends for entertainment. Sometimes it was cards, Napoleon favouring pontoon or whist, at which he invariably cheated.
‘Why do you do that?’ Josephine asked him irritably, one evening in early autumn, as they said good night to their guests and retired to their sleeping quarters.
‘Do what, my love?’
‘Cheat at cards.You do it every time we play.’
‘Do I?’
She dug her elbow into his side. ‘You know you do. Why?’
He shrugged. ‘It means that I win every time.’
Josephine paused to look at him as they entered her bedchamber. She placed her palm against his cheek and gently caressed it. ‘Is it so important to you to win at everything? To be the best all the time?’
‘What else is there? Why should a man aim any lower than the best in his ambitions?’ He eased her gently inside and closed the door behind them.Then he slipped his arms round her waist and pulled her towards him. The scent of her perfume filled his head as he kissed the curve of her neck, marvelling at its silken texture. He whispered, ‘I want to be the best lover that you have ever had . . .’
‘You are,’ she purred, tilting her head aside as she enjoyed the sensation of his lips grazing her flesh there. ‘You are the best.’
Napoleon wanted to believe it, more than anything he had ever believed in his life. Yet the knowledge of her infidelities twisted in his mind like a blade and his body trembled with rage.
‘What is it?’
‘Nothing. Take your clothes off.’
She pulled away and looked at him. There was a wild glint in his eye that she took for passion and she murmured, ‘Yes, my love.’
He stood and watched as she hurriedly removed her dress, her bodice, her stockings and finally undid the lace straps of her underwear. Then she stood before him, naked, and trembling in the cold air even though a servant had lit the fire in the corner of the room. He took one of her small breasts in his hand and rolled his thumb over her dark brown nipple, all the time staring into her eyes. Then he let his hand slide down her ribs, over her stomach and in between her legs. Josephine shut her eyes and bit gently on her lip.
He suddenly withdrew his hand and wrenched at the buttons of his jacket. Josephine took the opportunity to draw away from him and jump into the bed, sliding down under the thick coverings and curling into a ball. It took him a fraction of the time it had taken her to undress and then he clambered in beside her. There was no preamble. He mounted her, thrust himself inside and worked to a swift, vigorous climax and then collapsed on to her with a groan.
‘That was quick,’ she muttered with a trace of disappointment evident in her tone.
‘I’m a busy man,’ he replied huskily as his heart pounded.
‘Too busy to pleasure me it seems.’
Napoleon rolled off her and lay on his back. They had had this discussion several times before in recent months, and he knew the steps by heart. She would accuse him of sparing her no thought, of no longer being the partner of her soul. He would promise that he would give her all of his attention the moment he could afford the time. He genuinely meant it. He loved her more than ever, but thanks to his public duties there was very little time to share that love with her. But the argument would go round and round until she had obtained a promise to join her at the theatre, or the opera, or spend an evening at one of the salons of Paris.The latter were tiresome affairs where men and women either toadied to him or went out of their way to try to impress upon him their greater intelligence or better breeding. And all the time he would be thinking about the pressing difficulties facing France.
It was becoming clear that the Austrians had no intention of signing a peace treaty and Napoleon had ordered Moreau to mass his forces on the Rhine. If there was no treaty by December Napoleon had resolved to renew the war.Then there was a fresh outbreak of rebellion in the Vendée, led by the royalist Georges Cadoudal. Fouché had given orders that Cadoudal and his followers were to be hanged on the spot if they were captured. Yet they were still at large and plotting to spread their rebellion, and there were even rumours of an attempt to be made on Napoleon’s life.
He pressed his head back into his bolster and yawned.
‘I bore you then?’
He swore under his breath and leaned over her. ‘You are the centre of my world, Josephine, but there are demands made of me from every direction of the compass. What can I do? France depends on me, and I cannot ignore her, even for you. Surely you can see that?’
‘I can see where your priorities lie well enough.’ She turned on her side, away from him, and Napoleon was left looking at the shallow arch of her spine for a moment before he kissed the nape of her neck.
‘As soon as I can, I will spend an evening with you.’
‘When?’
He thought quickly. There was a new production of Haydn’s oratorio
The Creation
opening in December. He would take her to that, and make a lavish evening of it.There would be a dinner at the Luxembourg, and then the guests would proceed to the Opéra in a convoy of coaches. Napoleon made a mental note of the details and resolved to have Lucien make arrangements for the event first thing in the morning.
The Creation
opening in December. He would take her to that, and make a lavish evening of it.There would be a dinner at the Luxembourg, and then the guests would proceed to the Opéra in a convoy of coaches. Napoleon made a mental note of the details and resolved to have Lucien make arrangements for the event first thing in the morning.
Towards the end of November, Napleon’s patience with Austria finally gave out and he gave the order to General Moreau to march towards Vienna. He was eating dinner with Josephine one evening early in December when they were interrupted by Berthier. Napoleon noticed his chief of staff’s excited smile at once.
‘What is it, Berthier?’
‘A great victory, sir. The Austrian army blundered into Moreau’s forces at Hohenlinden and was cut to pieces. They lost over eighteen thousand men.’
‘What is Moreau doing now?’
‘He’s sent two of his generals, Ney and Grouchy, to pursue the Austrians.’
Napoleon recalled the names from the personnel records in the Ministry of War. Both were aggressive commanders who were far more likely to keep the pressure on the enemy than Moreau. He nodded with satisfaction, before turning his gaze back to Berthier. ‘I want a full report on the battle as soon as possible. Make sure that Lucien gets a copy, and that he gets an announcement into the papers for tomorrow. If all goes well, the war will be over before Christmas. That will give the people more than enough cause to celebrate.’
‘Yes, sir. Will that be all?’
‘No.’ Napoleon’s eyes glittered as a new thought struck him. ‘Tell Moreau that if he can force an armistice on the Austrians, it is to be signed on Christmas Day.That will be a fine story for the newspapers. And the day before, we shall attend the Opéra.’ He grinned at Josephine. ‘That will give the people of Paris a Christmas to remember for years to come.’
The carriages set off from the courtyard of the Luxembourg Palace shortly after six in the evening. The First Consul’s carriage led the procession. Those that followed carried friends, including Josephine’s son and daughter, Eugène and Hortense. A cold night had closed in over the capital and a mantle of freezing fog lay across the tiled roofs. Even so, the streets were crowded along the route to the opera house. Details of the procession had been published several days before and the people had turned out in their thousands to catch sight of the First Consul and his wife. Many had already been drinking and the streets echoed to the sound of singing and cheers. Torches had been lit along the route and cast a rosy glow in the fog that added to the gaiety of the scene. A squadron of dragoons rode ahead of the carriages, the breastplates of the riders gleaming, and the horses’ coats shining as they snorted plumes of breath into the night air.
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