The Generals

Chapter 52

‘Moreau?’ Napoleon eased himself lower into his bath so that the water lapped over the edge of his chin. He shook his head. ‘And what does General Moreau have to say to me today?’

Bourrienne broke the seal and unfolded the dispatch. He held it carefully so that the perspiration that glistened on his brow did not drip on to the paper and make the ink run. The steam that filled the bathroom of Napoleon’s apartment at the Luxembourg Palace was bad enough already for the documents that Bourrienne was obliged to bring in to read to the First Consul, while Napoleon spent up to two hours at a time immersed in the hottest water that he could stand. Peculiar working conditions, Bourrienne thought to himself, but then Napoleon was a peculiar individual. Since the December plebiscite had confirmed popular support for the new constitution, Napoleon had drawn to himself the workload of almost every major office of state.The First Consul worked seventeen or eighteen hours a day, not counting his baths, and there seemed to be no detail, however small, that ever escaped his phenomenal memory. With a mind like that in charge of France’s affairs the other two consuls had soon proved to be superfluous. Sieyès and Ducos, after some faltering efforts to stand alongside Napoleon, had accepted the inevitable and given up their posts at the heart of the new government. But not everyone supported Napoleon’s rise to power. Many politicians and army officers were uncertain about the bloodless coup of November, and none more so than Moreau.

In the weeks that followed Napoleon had been careful to reward his followers and make peace with his rivals. Murat had been appointed commander of the Consular Guard - a hand-picked corps of tough veterans whose duty it was to protect Napoleon. Murat had also been permitted to take Caroline Bonaparte as his bride, and while Napoleon was glad to have such a formidable soldier for a brother-in-law he could not help thinking that Murat had his work cut out with the most shrewish of Napoleon’s sisters. Fouché was now head of police and Talleyrand was in charge of foreign affairs. Masséna was in command of the Army of Italy, Berthier would shortly be in command of the Army of Reserve and Moreau had the most prestigious command of them all - the well-equipped and hard-fighting Army of the Rhine. Which was where Napoleon’s chief difficulty lay.

Bourrienne quickly scanned the note and then began to read it through.‘He’s taking issue again with your plan for the coming campaign.’>

Napoleon was silent for a moment, his brow gradually tightening into a dark scowl as he stared at the chandelier overhead. At length he muttered, ‘Damn the man, what does he think he is playing at? We must beat Austria and we must beat her swiftly.To do that we must destroy her armies and take Vienna before autumn sets in. Any fool can see that. But not Moreau. No, he wants to creep forward like a tortoise, and duck back into his shell the moment he senses danger. Bastard . . .’

Bourrienne refrained from comment, and waited a moment before coughing lightly. ‘Do you wish me to take down a letter to him, sir?’

‘No . . . Wait.’ Napoleon’s head rose a little higher above the steam swirling off the surface of the water. ‘He’s reviewing a new cavalry formation near Montmartre, is he not?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Then send for him. I will meet him here this evening, with Berthier and Talleyrand. See to it at once.’

Bourrienne stood up, collected his papers and bowed, greatly relieved to quit the stifling humidity of Napoleon’s bathroom. As he made for the door there was a splash of water from the overfilled bath as Napoleon raised an arm. ‘And send Roustam in. It’s time I was out of here and got dressed.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Once he was alone again Napoleon raised his hands to his face and relished the sensation of moist warmth against his eyes. He was tired. More tired than he had ever been and more tired than he should permit himself to be, he reflected. In truth, the seemingly endless difficulties facing the government could only begin to be solved if there was peace with England and Austria. But that seemed more unlikely than ever, now that the two powers had curtly rebuffed his offers to talk peace. If only that wretched man William Pitt could put the interests of his people above his personal abhorrence of France there might be peace, Napoleon considered. However, there was little hope of that, and Napoleon resigned himself to the prospect of the English Prime Minister obstinately dragging out the war for years to come, defying France, and Napoleon, from the other side of the Channel. Meanwhile, Austria was the only enemy that France could close with and destroy. So it was against Austria that the full fury of France’s army would be launched.

‘Sir, your gown.’

Napoleon glanced up with a start. Once again his intense preoccupation with policy had driven out all awareness of his surroundings and Roustam had entered the room without his realising. He stared at his Mameluke servant and wondered if this blindness to minions was what happened when a man became a ruler of his nation. If so, it was a dangerous development, and Napoleon had no intention of ending up like Marat. He rose up, shedding water in a steaming cascade, and stepping out of the bath he took the gown that Roustam proffered to him, anxious to get dry and dressed in his uniform so that he would no longer feel naked and vulnerable.

‘Would you like breakfast, sir?’

‘Yes. No, wait. Is my wife still in bed?’

‘I believe so, sir.’

‘Then I’ll have breakfast later.You may go.’

Roustam bowed and backed out of the room. Napoleon rubbed the gown against his flesh as he made for the door that led to his sleeping quarters. First Consul he might be, but his needs were the same as any other young man’s.

Dinner, like all meals shared with Napoleon, was eaten in a hurry. The First Consul resented spending any more time than was necessary on consuming food, especially when there was important business at hand.The stewards cleared away the plates, dishes, cutlery and glasses and left the four men to themselves, quietly closing the door on the room.

‘Well,’ Talleyrand said as he dabbed at his lips with a napkin. ‘The food was good, what little of it I had the chance to taste. So what is the purpose of this meeting, Citizen First Consul? Since I assume we weren’t just invited to enjoy your hospitality.’

Napoleon made himself smile at the foreign minister’s manner. Talleyrand represented much of what Napoleon despised, and admired, of the ancient regime. His manners were refined to the point of being an art form, and his offhand manner left people in no doubt that he considered them to be beneath him. His dry wit chafed Napoleon’s nerves, and yet if ever there was a man who was destined to deal in the duplicity of diplomacy it was Talleyrand, and therefore Napoleon was grateful that he had accepted the appointment. But he still loathed the man.

‘No, indeed. And now that we have eaten it is time to talk.’ Napoleon gestured round the table. ‘It falls to the four of us to decide what direction France is to take in the coming months. What does France need?’

‘Peace,’ Talleyrand said at once. ‘Citizen Consul, if you are to cement your hold on France then we must have peace. The people are tired of war. Our navy is in a deplorable state, the army is not much better and the treasury is all but empty. We need to make peace in order to consolidate the gains of the revolution.’

‘I have tried to make peace,’ Napoleon said wearily. ‘You know what the English said in their reply to me? “Peace is impossible with a nation that is against all order, religion and morality.” ’ He shook his head. ‘While that is their attitude there can only be war between us, and we can be sure that England will continue to subsidise any nation that stands against us.’

Talleyrand smiled. ‘It seems that the English are preparing to fight to the last Austrian.’

‘Quite,’ Napoleon continued, irritated by the interruption. ‘And while their navy controls the seas then we have to turn our attention towards the Austrians. What realistic chance is there of peace with Austria?’

Talleyrand was still for a moment, as he considered the question. Then he shrugged. ‘Not much. They are keen to keep the territory they currently occupy in Italy and they wish France to give up the Low Countries. We would only have peace if we consented to both demands.’ He looked closely at Napoleon. ‘Of course, if you are serious about peace, then you could always meet their demands.’

‘No!’ Moreau slapped his hand down on the table. ‘That would be an insult to France, and our armies. I would not stand for it, and neither should you.’ He spoke directly to Napoleon. ‘If we conceded so much the people would be outraged. Given their present ill humour, a diplomatic reverse on that scale might trigger another coup.’

‘That is possible,’ Talleyrand conceded. ‘And we’d probably end up with yet another general in charge, and be back where we started.’ He paused. ‘I wonder who that general might be, in the unlikely event of a coup.’

‘Thank you,Talleyrand,’ Napoleon cut in.‘I think we are agreed. There can be no compromise with Austria, and the war must be ended as swiftly as possible. In which case, it is time to consider the means by which that can be achieved. Berthier, the map.’

Berthier rose from his chair and crossed to a chest of drawers. He retrieved a large map and returned to the table, where he spread it out between the four men. They gazed down at a detailed rendering of central Europe. Talleyrand’s quick eye immediately picked out the preliminary dispositions of the forces that Berthier had marked out.

‘I see now that this meeting was not to seek our advice, but to give us orders, Citizen Consul.’

A frown flickered across Napleon’s face. ‘While I value the opinions of my . . . colleagues the time for a decision has come. Now then,’ he tapped the map, ‘to business. Despite the recent setbacks in Italy and Germay we are in a good position to end the war decisively, thanks to our occupation of Switzerland.You are all aware that a new army has been gathering around Dijon - the Army of Reserve. In the next few days I will announce that Berthier is to be its commander.’

Berthier nodded slightly, since he was already aware of his appointment.

‘Who is to replace him as Minister of War?’ asked Moreau.

‘Carnot.’

‘Carnot? I thought he had been disgraced.’

Talleyrand smiled. ‘Of course. That’s what makes him so suitable for the job. He will be no threat to the new regime, especially if . . .’ Talleyrand turned to look searchingly at Napoleon. ‘I assume that means you will be taking the field against Austria.’

Moreau shook his head. ‘The new constitution forbids that. The First Consul is prohibited from holding an army command.’

‘That’s true,’ Napoleon agreed. ‘I shall simply be accompanying Berthier in an advisory role. The command of the Army of Reserve is his.’

‘Or at least that’s how it will be presented to the people of France,’ said Talleyrand. He dipped his head in acknowledgement of Napoleon’s neat circumvention of the new rules.

‘It seemed the obvious thing to do,’ Napoleon replied offhandedly. ‘It should be safe enough for me to leave Paris for a few months. The people will be loyal to the new regime for a while yet.’

‘I can imagine,’ said Talleyrand. ‘Fouché is busy censoring the newspapers and I hear that soon all theatre owners must have their plays approved by him as well. Meanwhile, your brother Lucien has been hard at work commissioning patriotic songs and monuments to the glorious dead.’

‘Your cynicism is misplaced,’ Moreau responded coldly. ‘Whatever you may think, the dead sacrificed their lives for France, which is more than you have done, citizen.’

Talleyrand shrugged. ‘I have devoted my life to the service of my country. That is my sacrifice.’

Moreau snorted. ‘What does a civilian know of sacrifice?’

‘Did not Danton, Desmoulins and Robespierre know the meaning of sacrifice?’ Talleyrand replied with icy calm.

‘Gentlemen!’ Napoleon raised a hand. ‘That’s enough. We do not have time for such petty altercations. Now then, to details. The plan was forwarded to the senior army commanders before Christmas. It was my intention that General Moreau’s Army of the Rhine would deliver the main blow.To achieve this it was to deploy one of its corps to pin the Austrian army in the region of the Black Forest, while the other three corps crossed the Rhine near Schaffhausen, turned the enemy flank and fell on the rear of the Austrian army.’

‘It sounds like a viable scheme.’ Talleyrand raised his fine eyebrows. ‘So why the past tense?’

‘Because General Moreau has pointed out what he believes are unwarranted risks in the original plan,’ Napoleon replied calmly. ‘If you wouldn’t mind, Moreau?’

‘Indeed.’ Moreau stood up and leaned over the map.‘It’s a bold plan, Bonaparte, I grant you that. But it’s too bold. There’s not enough room for three corps to manoeuvre at Schaffhausen. Besides, if the enemy got wind of the plan they could defeat my army in detail.’

‘Assuming they could march fast enough,’ added Berthier.

‘It is still a significant risk,’ Moreau insisted. ‘With all due respect to Bonaparte’s plan, in my view it would be wiser to advance on a broad front on the north bank of the Rhine. And that is what I shall do,’ Moreau concluded, and resumed his seat.

‘Thank you, General.’ Napoleon smiled.‘I’m sure you are wise to be cautious, given that you command by far the largest and best of our field armies. Consequently, I have amended the campaign plans, and now, instead of striking the main blow in Germany, it will fall in Italy instead. Gentlemen, it is my intention that the Army of Reserve will advance into Switzerland, and when it is fully equipped and provisioned - no later than the end of April - it will turn south, cross the Alps and cut across behind the Austrian army of General Melas so that the enemy will be crushed between the forces of Masséna and those of Berthier.’

‘Cross the Alps in May?’ Moreau shook his head. ‘It can’t be done. The passes will still be covered in snow and ice. It would be impossible to get the guns over the mountains, and what of the danger of avalanches? It would be the height of folly to attempt it.’

‘The Austrians would never expect it,’ Napoleon replied. ‘That is why it must be done. That is why it will be done. And that is why we will defeat them . . . decisively.’

Moreau was silent for a moment. ‘I can’t approve of this plan.’ ‘I don’t believe anyone asked you to,’ said Talleyrand and Moreau glared at him.

‘Yes, well that is the plan in any case.’ Napoleon tapped the map. ‘It will go ahead according to schedule, and I will be requiring you to release Lecourbe’s division to reinforce Berthier the instant we open a route across the Alps.’

Moreau thought it over. ‘Lecourbe commands one of my best divisions.’

‘That is why I need his men.’

‘Of course.’ Moreau nodded. ‘I will reinforce Berthier, as you suggest. Now, if you don’t mind, Bonaparte, I must go. I have to leave for my army at first light. I will send you word the moment I begin my campaign.’

‘That would be appreciated, General.’

The small meeting broke up as Talleyrand took his chance to leave with Moreau. Once they had left, Berthier stared at the door that had closed behind them.

‘I don’t trust those two.’

‘Nor do I,’ Napoleon agreed. ‘But I need them both, and I dare not antagonise Moreau, not until it is clear to every French soldier which one of us is the master. So I must win this campaign, Berthier. If I lose, those two will throw me to the wolves.’