The Sultan's Daughter (60 page)

Next day he had a talk with his old friend Bourrienne, and learned what had led to their master taking his momentous decision. At the recent battle of Aboukir the Turks had taken a number of captives. Sir Sidney Smith had intervened to prevent their being murdered, then arranged with Bonaparte an exchange of prisoners. The Commodore had also sent ashore a number of French wounded whom he had rescued from Jaffa. To show appreciation of the Englishman's
chivalrous behaviour, Bonaparte had sent some presents to him. Sir Sidney had returned the compliment, and among his gifts had been a bundle of news-sheets covering events in Europe up to June 10th.

It was ten months since any official news had been received from France. By way of Algiers and Tripoli, or Greece and Crete, carried by blockade-runners, rumours had trickled through to the effect that Austria was again at war with France and that all was not well in- Italy. But it was not until the night of August 2nd-3rd, during which Bonaparte had sat up until the small hours in Alexandria reading these news-sheets, that he had realised the seriousness of the situation, The following morning he had exclaimed to Bourrienne:

‘My presentiments have come true! The fools have lost Italy! All the fruits of our victories are gone. I must leave Egypt in order to save France.'

Having taken his decision, he acted with speed and secrecy. He told only Berthier and Gantheaume; ordering the latter to prepare the two frigates and two small supply ships with enough food for a two-month voyage. On August 5th he left Alexandria, on the 10th he arrived in Cairo. There, he gave out that he intended to carry, out an inspection of Desaix's force in Upper Egypt. A few days later he announced a change of plan: he was going to make a tour of the Delta. Meanwhile Bourrienne had collected all the people Bonaparte intended to take with him, but it was not until they reached Alexandria on the 22nd that any of them were told that they were going home to France.

Kléber had been at Damietta and Bonaparte had written, asking him to meet him for a conference at Rosetta. But with the duplicity that was typical of his methods the Corsican had never intended to keep the appointment. To escape protests and reproaches, he had simply sent a letter to await Kléber's arrival. It appointed him General-in-Chief, with powers to surrender to the British, but only if the ravages of the plague became so bad that the Army became incapable of resistance. The unfortunate Kléber had been left to find out for himself that the Army was ten million francs in debt and that Bonaparte had taken with him every sou of ready money.

When Roger asked Bourrienne for the news that had been gleaned from the papers sent by Sir Sidney Smith, the
Chef de Cabinet
told him of the serious reverses the French had met with in the neighbourhood of the Rhine and from north to south in Italy. Roger had already learned most of this from Sarodopulous, but there was later news about Switzerland. Matters were going badly for the French there also. Masséna had been compelled to relinquish the Grissons; then, on May 24th, two Austrian armies, joining forces, had brought such a weight of numbers against him that he had been driven back to the line of the river Limmat and Zürich.

Bourrienne, with intense indignation, gave an account of the murder of the French envoys at Rastatt and went on to speak of affairs in Paris. In mid-May the retirement by ballot of one of the Directors had become due and this time the lot had fallen on Jean-François Rewbell. The handsome, corrupt, licentious aristocrat Barras had been the most prominent figure in the Directory, right from its formation; but it was the coarse, ruthless, dyed-in-the-wool revolutionary Rewbell who had managed it and, time after time, frustrated the attempts of the Moderate majority in the Legislative Assembly to restore some degree of true liberty to the French people.

Rewbell had been replaced by the Abbé Sieyés, one of the strangest figures of the Revolution. He had become prominent in its earliest days and had remained so ever since. When asked, in after years, what he had done in the Revolution he replied, ‘I survived.' For anyone who had been one of the original leaders that was no small feat. A few others, such as Talleyrand, had done so, but only by going into exile during the worst years of the Terror. Sieyés, the most subtle of intriguers, had, by changing his coat a dozen times, not only kept his head on his shoulders but occupied some post of importance in every successive Government.

He was not a bloodthirsty man but had an intense hatred of the aristocracy and was incredibly vain of his intellectual powers. Above all he fancied himself as a drafter of Constitutions, although many of his ideas on the subject were impracticable. On the fall of Robespierre he had been among the first chosen by the rump Convention to be one of the new
governing body of five—the Directory. But as his proposals for a new Constitution had been rejected he had, in a huff, refused office.

This change in the personnel of the Directory was of far greater importance than any which had preceded it, and later in the day Roger pondered over its possible results. As Sieyés was a renegade and an atheist, his appointment would not lead to greater religious toleration and, as a revolutionary, he would, no doubt, support the Directory in their policy of continuing to repress individual liberty. But he was far too careful of his own skin to act as Rewbell would have done in a crisis and back his opinions with ruthless force. In consequence, this change in the Directory must greatly weaken it; and for a long time past it had been hated and despised by both the great mass of the people and the Liberal majority which sat, powerless under its rule, in the Legislative Assembly. Therefore, it now needed only a strong man to play Cromwell in order to put an end to the Directory.

Roger had no doubt that Bonaparte must be well aware of this. Overtures to lead a
coup d'état
to overthrow the Directory had been made to him in the spring of '98 and Talleyrand had told Roger that the little Corsican had refrained only because, being an extremely astute politician, he had decided that the time was not yet ripe. Instead he had gone off to Egypt, with the possibility of carving for himself an Empire in the East while time worked for him in France. He had failed in the first, but time had marched on just the same and now the plum looked ripe for the picking.

As Roger thought of this he realised that a sudden change had taken place in his own mentality. He had gone to Egypt only because Talleyrand had virtually forced him to. While there he had twice furnished Nelson with valuable information about Bonaparte's intentions. But that had given him no great satisfaction. It was not to secure information about the situation of an Army operating three thousand miles from England that Mr. Pitt had sent him to Paris. The work in which he had specialised for so long and in which he had been so successful was using his wide acquaintance with enemies in high places to assess the future policy of their Governments. To be back in Paris again and, perhaps, be
able, to some degree, to influence events in favour of his country was a very different matter from remaining virtually useless and cut off from all the amenities of life in Egypt.

One thing seemed certain: Bonaparte's return to Paris would lead to a crisis of some kind, and the more Roger speculated on its possibly far-reaching results the more eager he became for the voyage to be over.

For some days, and particularly at nights, he was haunted by thoughts of Zanthé. When the news reached her that Bonaparte had decamped, taking his finest Generals and his personal Staff with him, she would realise that Roger was with them and on his way back to France; but she could not be expected to guess that he had not had the option of refusing to leave her, or even the opportunity to send her a message. She could only suppose that, having been given the chance, he had callously deserted her. That worried him even more than having lost her; although at times such was his feeling for her that he almost wished he had been left behind to marry her as they had planned.

It was on the third day out that, up on the quarter-deck, Bonaparte suddenly asked him, ‘What happened to your Princess?'

Roger told him; but the Corsican only gave a grunt, then said, ‘I, too, have had to deprive myself of much happiness by leaving behind in Cairo my little
Bellilotte
. She implored me to take her with me, but I refused. We have to face the fact that we may be captured by the English. Most of the English sailors have been without women for many months and I could not bear to think what might happen to her if she fell into their hands.'

Roger was so shocked by this slur on British chivalry that only long habit prevented him from making his leanings suspect by entering on an angry defence of his countrymen. That he would have been amply justified was proved some months later, when the Corsican's violet-eyed mistress endeavoured to follow him to France in a blockade-runner. The ship was captured by the English. They delighted in her company, entertained her royally and went out of their way to set her safely ashore in France.

While Roger was inwardly seething, Bonaparte, being in
one of his confidential moods, went on, ‘I should have liked to have had a child by her; but the little stupid seemed incapable of producing one. She vowed that it was not her fault, and implied that because I have never yet begotten one it must be mine. Yet I'm as virile as other men, so I'll not accept it that I'm incapable of becoming a father.'

Raising a smile with difficulty, Roger replied, ‘You are not yet thirty, so have ample time. It may be that one's mental state when making love has an effect in such matters. You are constantly beset by so many urgent problems that it would surprise me if you ever gave your whole thoughts to a woman even for a few moments.'

Bonaparte gave him a swift glance. ‘That is an interesting thought. Perhaps you are right. At least it gives me some comfort. But there are more important things in life than women. One's country must come first, and you shall see what I will do in Paris. As I've often said I would, I'll put an end to these fops and puppies who are bringing about our ruin.'

This conversation did not console Roger for the loss of Zanthé; but it did help a little to take his thoughts from her, for Bonaparte had confirmed his belief that exciting times lay ahead when they reached the French capital and the various ways in which events might develop gave him much on which to ponder.

However, it was to be many weeks before they reached Paris. After their propitious start the weather became unfavourable. As in the case of the outward journey, Bonaparte allowed their Admiral no say about the course he should take, preferring to trust in his own star rather than let anyone else decide how they should endeavour to evade Nelson's ships.

He ordered Gantheaume to hug the coasts of Tripoli and Tunisia until they came opposite the ruins of ancient Carthage, then head north for Sardinia. His plan was sound, for if they had encountered British warships in the open sea they must either have surrendered or been sunk; whereas, should they be intercepted near the coast, it was his intention to have the frigates run ashore then, accompanied by some eight to nine hundred fighting men, make his way to an
African port, from which he might hope to get another ship and again attempt to reach France. But for twenty-one days without intermission the winds were adverse. Laboriously the frigates tacked from side to side, making a few miles each night, only to be blown back towards Alexandria next day.

The gaiety on board soon subsided. For three whole weeks the voyagers suffered the most agonising frustration and apprehension. Each morning it seemed impossible that dusk should again fall without Sir Sidney Smith's squadron having come upon them, The sighting of even the smallest sail on the horizon made Bonaparte's pale face still paler, from fear that he was about to be captured; for he knew that there could be no escape and that resistance would be futile.

His companions did everything they could to distract him, almost forcing him to play cards and letting him cheat as much as he liked at vingt-et-un; for he could not bear to lose at any game, although he always gave away his winnings.

At last, in mid-September, the wind changed and for long monotonous days they sailed west along the coast of Africa until they rounded Cape Bon. Soon afterwards they entered on the worst hazard of their journey—the hundred-and-fifty-mile run from the neighbourhood of Bizerta across to the southern tip of Sardinia—for the narrows there were always patrolled by British ships. Fortune favoured them and fair winds continued to carry them up the west side of the big island. But when they had passed it a great storm blew up, driving them with it into the Gulf of Ajaccio, and, failing to beat their way out, the frigates were forced to put into the port.

Far from being pleased at this opportunity to revisit his birthplace and see his relations, Bonaparte was furious at the delay. Moreover, he had long since lost all interest in Corsica and presented a surly face to the innumerable people anxious to claim kinship with him and the scores of mothers who presented their offspring to him vowing that, although the great man's memory might have failed him about such trivialities, he was the godfather of their children.

In Ajaccio they learned that further disasters had befallen the French in northern Italy. On July 22nd the citadel of Alessandria had surrendered and, eight days later, the great
fortress of Mantua had fallen. The successful end to these sieges had released many thousands of Austrian troops. In addition, Suvóroff had received reinforcements which brought the strength of the Russians up to twenty-seven thousand men.

Joubert, a young General of great promise, had been sent to Genoa to supersede the veteran Moreau. Ambitious to win laurels for himself but unaware that Mantua had fallen, and hoping to save it, Joubert had left the shelter of Genoa and advanced to Novi where he had seized the heights above the town. There he was attacked by an Austrian Army, under General Kray, and Suvóroff's Russians. Early in the day young Joubert's promising career was cut short during an encounter with skirmishers. In spite of having lost their General, the French fought valiantly but were surrounded. In the final phase of the battle they had to retreat down a valley choked with their own baggage wagons. Hungarian troops had moved round to the heights commanding it and poured down a relentless fire upon them. The valley became a shambles. Only a remnant of the French got away and at Novi they had lost twelve thousand men.