The Generals

Chapter 39

Napoleon

Alexandria, August 1798

Aboukir Bay reeked of death and destruction even several days after the battle.The beach was littered with shattered timbers and severed cordage. Bodies were still being washed up on the shore, blotched and bloated and often mutilated by the effects of cannon fire and explosions. What was left had been worried by the fish gorging themselves in the bay. In the now calm waters, wreckage floated on the surface and the masts of the ships that had been sunk rose stark and bare from their watery grave.

‘Sweet Jesus . . .’ Berthier muttered as he gazed across the scene. He opened his mouth to continue and then closed it again with a slight shake of the head.There were no words to describe the scale of the defeat that France had suffered at the hands of Lord Nelson and his fleet.

‘What was the final cost?’ asked Napoleon.

Berthier took a moment to collect his thoughts and reached for his pocket book. He flicked the pages open to the notes he had made earlier that morning after consulting the army’s chief surgeon, Dr Desgenettes. ‘Nearly two and a half thousand killed or wounded. Over three thousand taken prisoner when their ships were captured.’

Napoleon waved his hand dismissively. ‘What about the ships? How many did we lose?’

‘The L’Orient blew up.Three ships of the line were taken and burned by the Royal Navy, another nine ships of the line were captured and two frigates were sunk.’

‘And how many survived?’

‘Two ships of the line and two frigates. They escaped to the east. We haven’t heard anything from them yet.’

Napoleon shut his eyes for a moment. With one blow the English had shattered French naval power in the Mediterranean, and severed the link between Napoleon’s army and France.Very well then, he concluded, that was the situation. What mattered now was surviving the consequences. His eyes flickered open.

‘Berthier, take a note.’

His chief of staff hurriedly opened a fresh page of his pocket book and fumbled in his jacket for a pencil. He sat down on a rock and waited for Napoleon to begin.

‘Tell Kléber to have some boats armed to patrol the harbours at Alexandria. If the Royal Navy is still out there, it’s possible they will attempt a cutting-out raid against what is left of our fleet. Have Marmont’s brigade moved up to Rosetta in case the English attempt any landings there. Then find a small ship, something fast, and have a warning sent to our forces in Malta. The ship is then to continue to France to convey the news of Admiral Brueys’s defeat. Got all that?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘There’s one other matter to deal with. I must write a letter to the Sultan in Constantinople. Talleyrand should be close to concluding a treaty with Turkey by now. If I can reassure the Sultan that we are operating in his interests, then he might not be tempted to take advantage of this temporary setback.’

Berthier paused and looked up. ‘Temporary setback, sir?’

‘This.’ Napoleon gestured vaguely towards the bay. ‘The fleet had already served its purpose, in getting my army here safely.We can, and shall, manage without them.’

‘Yes, sir.’ Berthier turned his attention back to his pocket book. ‘Anything else?’

Napoleon nodded. ‘A message needs to be sent to Ahmad Pasha at Acre. He needs to be warned off any plans he might have for joining forces with what’s left of the Mamelukes in Egypt. If we can secure an alliance with him so much the better. In the meantime,’ he turned away from the bay and gazed back in the direction of Alexandria, ‘we had better do what we can to settle the army into Egypt and win over the locals. It’s possible we may be here for quite a while.’

Leaving Kléber and Marmont to guard against any attempts by the English to further exploit Nelson’s victory, Napoleon and his staff mounted up and swiftly returned to Cairo. News of the battle had reached every corner of the city and there was a palpable tension in the streets of the capital as those who still opposed the French occupation openly rejoiced. The morale of the French troops was dangerously low now that their lifeline to their homeland was cut. Napoleon knew that the only cure for their malaise was to be kept occupied and fed a diet of rewards and propaganda. He immediately set out a list of public works and administrative measures to be carried out as soon as possible.

Chambers of commerce were set up in the largest towns of the delta, and register offices established to record land ownership and to issue birth certificates in an attempt to provide the basis of a new tax system. Napoleon was mindful that, despite the defeat at Aboukir Bay, Paris would still be anticipating fresh spoils from its army in Egypt. French engineers began projects to improve the economy of the new province by building roads and windmills, and work began on dredging the canal that linked Alexandria to Cairo. In the capital itself, Napoleon decreed that street lighting would be provided and a local police force set up. A hospital was established for the city’s poorest inhabitants and the French historians, artists and scientists who had accompanied the expedition were finally rewarded for all the discomfort and danger they had endured. The Institute of Egypt for Arts and Sciences was inaugurated in Cairo with Gaspard Monge as its president. Napoleon added his lustre to the proceedings by accepting the post of vice-president.

He commandeered the mansions of the Mameluke leaders and handed them over to his senior officers. The soldiers, distressed by the hot climate, and lacking the wine and bread they had been raised on back in France, were even more disgruntled by the lack of available women. In order to distract them from their grievances Napoleon set up a soldiers’ social club and two light-hearted newspapers. Gradually, the troops began to adjust to their new setting, discovering the pleasures of native chebouk pipes, steam baths and spiced native food enjoyed from the comfort of divans.

In order to impress upon the local worthies the technical superiority of the French regime, Napoleon ordered the officer in command of the hot air balloon detachment to mount a public demonstration and ride his balloon aloft for all of Cairo to see. On the appointed day the sheikhs and imams and their retinues were treated to a feast in shelters round an open square while Captain Conté and his men prepared their equipment.

There was an audible gasp from the French officers as Napoleon emerged from his quarters wearing a turban and silk robes over his shirt, trousers and boots. A bright sash ran round his middle, over which was fastened a sword belt from which hung a jewelled scimitar. He strode across to the largest shelter, under which Sheikh Muhammad el Hourad and his followers watched him approach, rising at the last moment to bow and make their greetings.

‘General, you honour us,’ the sheikh smiled. ‘But I confess, I am a little confused by your attire.’

‘Why, sir?’ Napoleon glanced down at his robes, and the feather in the top of his turban dipped forward and bounced off his nose. A ripple of subdued laughter went round his guests, but when he glared at them they fell silent. Napoleon turned to the sheikh.‘I was merely trying to show you that we French are more than willing to adapt to your ways.’

‘I see.’ The sheikh smiled. ‘And of course we appreciate the gesture. But tell me, why do you wear the turban of a Mameluke and the robes of a Bedouin?’

Napoleon glanced over his shoulder and glared at Junot. His aide shrugged helplessly and Napoleon resolved to give him a firm dressing down when the guests had gone. He turned back to the sheikh, trying hard not to blush with embarrassment and anger. ‘I apologise. I was badly advised. Now, please, take your seats.The food will arrive shortly, and we can talk while Captain Conté makes his balloon ready for flight.’

Napoleon and his staff officers settled on to the divans prepared for them while the sheikh and his followers resumed their reclining positions. When everyone was settled Berthier nodded to one of the orderlies and the man hurried away to the kitchens.

The sheikh watched the officers and men laying the wood in the heavy cast-iron grate below the platform on which rested the round basket which would carry Captain Conté aloft. In the centre of the basket was a funnel which led up into the envelope of the balloon itself.

‘General, can that thing really fly?’

‘Yes. I have seen it myself, back in Paris.’

‘By what magic does it work?’

‘Not by magic, but by science.’ Napoleon smiled, and then continued in a lecturing tone.‘By the principle that hot air, being lighter than the air surrounding it, will rise, filling out the balloon, and then causing it to lift, taking both basket and passenger with it. The balloon will continue to rise until the air inside has cooled and then it will descend safely back to the ground.’

‘And you are sure you have seen this work, with your own eyes?’

‘Yes.’ Napoleon replied testily. ‘I give you my word.’

‘Then I am sure it will be so, if Allah wills it.’

‘Speaking of Allah, or more broadly religion, I think it is a good time to mention to you that I have decided to enact a measure guaranteeing religious toleration in Egypt. I wondered what your views on the matter were.’

The sheikh stroked his beard. ‘I assume that you mean that Jews and Christians should be allowed to practise their rites freely, alongside those of Islam.’

‘Yes. That would seem to be the best way to encourage good relations between all the faiths. France wants peace and prosperity for all the peoples of Egypt.’

‘And would you enforce such tolerance?’ the sheikh asked wryly.

‘Indeed.’ Napoleon nodded, and his feather tipped forward again. With a grimace he quickly reached up and savagely plucked it out of the turban and tossed it on to the divan behind him.

The band suddenly struck up as the doors to the kitchens opened and a long line of servants emerged carrying platters of delicacies and exotic fruits. As the French officers and their guests began to eat, Captain Conté’s crew finally lit the fire underneath his balloon-launching platform. The flames flickered into life and the timber crackled merrily. At first nothing seemed to be happening and then, as Napoleon watched, the balloon envelope rippled and began to fill, with painstaking slowness. After a while he lost interest in the display and idly glanced round the faces of those sitting at the tables set for the French.

In amongst them were a handful of women, and almost at once Napoleon’s gaze fell upon a slim figure with fine tresses of auburn hair. She sat at the side of a handsome young lieutenant who frequently glanced at her in open adoration. It was easy to see why, Napoleon reflected. She was the most beautiful woman he had seen since leaving France. Since he last saw Josephine, he reflected bitterly, reopening the still fresh wound in his heart.

He lowered his plate and turned to Junot.‘Who is that woman over there?’

Junot followed the direction indicated by Napoleon and smiled. ‘Ah! That is the delightful Pauline Fourès.’

‘I don’t recall seeing her before. Is that man her husband?’

‘Yes, Lieutenant Fourès, one of our cavalry officers. A bit of a firebrand by all accounts. I’m not surprised you haven’t noticed his wife before, sir. She disguised herself as a hussar to accompany her husband on the campaign. She only revealed her true identity after the battle outside Cairo.’

‘Good God!’ Napoleon shook his head in wonder. ‘How could she have managed it? To have survived all that and kept her secret . . .She sounds interesting. I should like to meet her.Would you see to it, Junot? Supper, tonight at my mansion.’

‘Yes, sir. An invitation to Madame Fourès, and the good lieutenant as well?’

‘No. I think I would rather hear her story without any distraction.’

‘I understand, sir. I’ll see to it.’

‘Good.’ Napoleon looked at her for a moment longer and then turned his attention back to his meal. He was aroused at the prospect of meeting the woman, and at the same time felt a vague sense of shame at pulling rank over her husband, and the prospect of being unfaithful to Josephine, in spirit at least. Then his heart hardened. Let Josephine hear of this. Let her suffer the injury he had endured at her hands. As for Lieutenant Fourès? Napoleon shrugged. Perhaps it was time for Fourès to share his general’s knowledge of the perfidy of women.

The sheikh coughed softly. ‘I beg your pardon, General, but how long does this balloon of yours take before it makes its ascent?’

‘What?’ Napoleon shook off his thoughts of Josephine and Pauline Fourès. He looked across the square. Captain Conté was desperately piling more fuel on to the fire. Above it the material of the balloon had barely risen and resembled nothing so much as the flaccid, wrinkled breast of an old woman. Napoleon granted the captain a few minutes’ grace, then discreetly gestured to Junot to come closer.

‘Sir?’

‘Have a word with Conté. Nothing too harsh, you understand, but tell him he’d better get that thing up in the air before he makes complete fools of us.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Junot eased himself up from his divan, strolled across the courtyard and beckoned to the hapless Captain Conté, who emerged from under the platform with his face glistening with sweat and streaked with grime. He listened to Junot for a moment, looked past him towards Napoleon, and shrugged his shoulders helplessly.

‘Is there a problem, General?’

Napoleon turned to the sheikh.‘Not at all. Demonstrations of such complexity take time, that’s all.’

‘It’s just that your captain doesn’t seem very happy. Does he really know what he’s doing?’

‘Who? Captain Conté?’ Napoleon was hurt by the accusation and impulsively rushed to defend the reputation of his officer.‘Captain Conté has one of the most brilliant minds in the French army. That’s why I personally selected him for this campaign.’>

‘Really?’

‘Yes,’ Napoleon said irritably. ‘The man is a genius. He invented the pencil, you know.’

‘The pencil.’The sheikh nodded slowly. ‘Then, truly, he is not a man to be underestimated.’

Napoleon could not take the humiliation any more. He rose, and made an excuse that he had work to attend to and was sorry but the demonstration would have to wait for another day.

‘I quite understand, General,’ the sheikh responded with a kindly expression. ‘Perhaps when Allah is more willing to permit men to behave like birds.’

‘Yes, quite.’

As soon as the last of the sheikhs and imams had departed Napoleon tore off the turban and hurled it to the ground. ‘So much for appeasing their sensibilities! The smug bastards. Laughing up their sleeves at us!’ He whirled round and stabbed a finger at Conté.‘It’s your fault! You and that worthless balloon of yours! Take it down. Get rid of it. Get it out of my sight before I have it cut to pieces and wipe my arse on it.’

‘Sir!’ Captain Conté tried to explain. ‘It was the day’s heat. I could not make my balloon more buoyant than the surrounding air. It works best in cooler climates.’

‘Really?’ Napoleon snapped. ‘Cooler climates? Then you’d better pack it up and fuck off back to France with it, Captain.’

‘Sir! I . . .Yes, sir.’

Napoleon glared at him a moment, then turned round to look for Junot. ‘Junot! Over here! At once, man!’

Junot ran across the courtyard and stood stiffly to attention before his general. ‘Yes, sir?’

‘That other business. Concerning Madame Fourès. See to it now, please.’

‘Tonight, sir?’

‘Tonight. I need something to take my mind off this disaster.’ A smile flickered across Napoleon’s face. ‘I think that she will prove a most diverting companion.’

The door closed behind the woman as Junot left the room and for a moment Napoleon watched her from his seat on the balcony outside. Pauline Fourès was wearing a sheer silk gown that hid little of her fine figure in the wan glow of the oil lamps burning in a bracket hanging from the ceiling. For a moment she simply stared round the room; then she darted across to a small side table and helped herself to a piece of baklava. Napoleon could not help chuckling and she froze at once.

‘Who’s there? General?’

Napoleon rose and entered the room.

‘Madame Fourès, a pleasure.’ He bowed and kissed her hand. ‘Thank you for coming to see me.’

‘How could I refuse?’ She smiled, and her full lips parted to reveal perfect teeth. ‘Colonel Junot was most insistent. And, after all, you are the most powerful man in Egypt.Your word is law.’

‘It is. Please sit down.’ He gestured to the two chairs beside the side table. ‘Since you have started on the delicacies, feel free to continue.’

‘Ah . . .’ She laughed. ‘Now I am ashamed.’

They sat and Napoleon poured them each a glass of wine, and they picked at the baklava as he asked her to tell the story of her adventures since the expedition had left France. When she had finished Napoleon reflected for a moment before he spoke.

‘I envy a man who inspires such devotion in his wife.’

Pauline stared back at him. ‘I love my husband, General, but I loathed life as an officer’s wife back in France. I have not sacrificed anything to follow him. In truth I escaped the drudgery of eking out a life in a rented room while waiting for him to return. There has to be more to life than that. There has to be adventure.’

‘Indeed.’ Napoleon leaned closer to her. ‘And have you found it?’

‘I thought so, for a while. But now I am a mere lieutenant’s wife once more.’

‘Yes . . .A woman of your beauty deserves better.’

She looked at him for a moment and then tilted her head slightly.‘What are you saying, General? Are you going to offer my husband a promotion?’

‘No.’ Napoleon felt uneasy about what he was about to suggest and his eyes fixed on hers. ‘A general’s position is an isolated one. I cannot acknowledge any man, any friend, as an equal.Yet I need companionship . . .the comfort of intimacy.You understand? I need a woman. A special woman.’

‘But you are married.’

‘Yes,’ Napoleon replied bitterly. ‘And as you have no doubt heard, my wife has found a companion of her own. I will deal with her when I return to France. Under the circumstances I do not feel obliged to remain faithful to her. And I find that I am uncommonly attracted to you.’

‘I see.’ Pauline nodded. ‘And what exactly are you offering me?’

‘A palace here in Cairo.The company of the finest officers and scientific minds in Egypt. Is that not adventure enough for you, Madame Fourès?’

She considered this for a while before replying. ‘And what of my husband? What becomes of him?’

‘I will send him back to France. It would be best for all three of us.’

‘Yes.’ She licked her lips. ‘A palace, you say?’

Napoleon nodded.

‘And what happens when the campaign is over?’

‘I don’t know yet. Let’s see what happens. But I will make no promises.’>

‘No promises, then.’ She took his hand and kissed it. ‘Please, call me Pauline. And when can this . . . adventure begin?’

Napoleon felt his heart beating faster as he gestured towards the arched doorway on the far side of the room. The night suddenly seemed unbearably hot. ‘My bedchamber is over there. The choice is yours.’

Pauline rose from her chair, and staring down at Napoleon she reached up and pulled the pins from her hair, so that it cascaded down over her shoulders.Then she turned away and glided across the room towards the bedchamber.