On the 30th, Roger received a note from Talleyrand, asking him as a matter of urgency to meet him out at his house at Passey a little before midnight. The summons brought Roger many recollections. The charming petite maison on the outskirts of Paris had been Talleyrand's home before the Revolution. There he had entertained the foremost Liberals of the French nobility who were striving to bring in long-overdue reforms. It was there that Roger had first met men who afterwards made history. Later, during the Terror, when Talleyrand had had to escape from France, Roger, as a member of the dread Paris Commune, had commandeered the house and so saved it and its contents for its owner. During those terrible days he had at times lived there, once with his wife Amanda, and at another time with the beautiful Athenais de Rochambeau.
Dressed in civilian clothes, he drove out there in a hired coach. It was a bitter winter night and raining. Muffled in his cloak, he walked up the garden path, and hammered with the knocker on the front door. It was opened almost immediately by Antoine Velot. He and his wife, Marie, as butler and cook-housekeeper, had been the only permanent staff there for many years. During the long period of Talleyrand's exile, Roger had paid their wages and, in return, when he made brief visits to the house, they had given him most faithful service.
Antoine was now well advanced in years; but, having received Roger with delight, he declared that le bon Dieu had blessed himself and his wife by keeping them both hale and hearty. He then showed Roger into the small library. Talleyrand was there, lounging on a sofa, with Fouche seated opposite him; while old Marie was putting the finishing touches to a cold collation on a side tabic. After greeting the two men, Roger put his hands on Marie's shoulders as she curtsied to him, raised her up and kissed her withered cheek. It was one of those gestures that made him loved by humble folk. The others looked at him in surprise, but he smiled and said:
'In the days when Paris ran with blood, this was my refuge. Marie was like a mother to me, and Antoine could not have showed more devotion to a son.'
When Marie had left the room, Talleyrand said, 'Doubtless you have heard about the scene that took place at the Tuileries the day before yesterday?'
Roger nodded. 'The little man has become impossible. I wonder that you did not strike him with your cane, and so be done with him once and for all.'
Talleyrand shrugged. 'That evening I dined with the Countess de Laval and I told her of it. She said I should have used the poker. I replied that I was too lazy. But that is not quite the truth. I submitted to his insults because I am determined not to break with him until I have broken him.'
'I admire Your Highness' tenacity,' Fouche remarked, 'and between us we will yet save France from being totally destroyed by him.' Then he gave a loud sniff. He suffered from a perpetual cold, and his face was as cadaverous as ever. His long, grey coat was ill fitting and his waistcoat stained with snuff.
Continuing to address Roger, Talleyrand went on, 'We asked you to join us, cher ami, because much depends on our being informed of the true state of affairs in Spain and, having but recently returned, you should be able to tell us if there is more or less percentage of the usual lies in the bulletins issued by the Emperor. But first let us refresh ourselves.'
Fouche helped himself to a meagre portion of boned chicken stuffed with sausage meat and truffles. Roger went for the Duck Montmorency, one breast of which had been removed and replaced with foie gras, and the whole decorated with red cherries. Their host chose the lobster patties crowned with oysters. There were Chateau Latour, Corton Clos du Roi, Montrachet and Anjou to hand to wash these good things down. It was only an alfresco supper, but typical of the table kept by the Prince de Benevento.
While they ate, they talked of minor matters; then, putting his plate aside, Roger said, 'The Emperor would have the people believe that he has quelled the rebellion; and that, with Joseph re-established in Madrid, the whole trouble is over. But that is far from being the case. The insurgents still hold four-fifths of the country and the whole of Portugal. With British troops to stiffen them...'
'No, no,' Fouche interrupted. 'The English have been driven out. Reports from my people have been coming in for some days. To begin with, they were vague, but today quite definite. General Sir Moore was too precipitate in his retreat. 'Tis said that he force-marched his men seventeen miles a day to escape the trap set for him. As a result he lost several thousand from exhaustion, on the way to the coast. The English fought more determined rearguard actions. In one, their Hussars cut the Chasseurs of the Imperial Guard to pieces. That enabled General Sir Moore to get his main body to Corunna without it being defeated. But there he was forced to turn at bay. Again the English and Scottish fought with great bravery and the majority of them succeeded in getting away in their ships; but Sir Moore was killed during the battle.'
This was sad news for Roger, as Sir John was considered to be Britain's finest General; but he could comfort himself with the thought that his timely warning had probably saved the army from complete annihilation. After a moment he said:
'As soon as the Emperor learned of Moore's whereabouts and launched his greatly superior force against the British, it was clear that they would either suffer a disastrous defeat, or have to take to their ships. What I meant was that, with the Peninsular in its present state, you can count it certain that they will return. They would be mad to neglect such a God given opportunity to establish themselves at last on the Continent. And they still hold Lisbon.'
'Yes, with some nine thousand troops. But for how long will such a comparatively small body of men succeed in maintaining themselves there?'
'With luck, until they are reinforced by much greater numbers.'
'But that cannot happen for a month or more at least,' Talleyrand put in. 'Meanwhile, Ney's corps, and others, will be on their way to the Portuguese capital and should easily overwhelm so small a garrison.'
‘I disagree,' Roger replied. 'Sir John Moore's Number Two, General Baird, could sail down the coast in a matter of days, with the men taken off from Corunna and throw them into Lisbon. That is the obvious strategy. At a fair estimate it could raise the garrison to some twenty thousand men. And, should they hold the lines of Torres Vedras, Ney will find it no easy business to dislodge them.'
'What of Spain?' Fouche asked, sniffling again. 'We have some two hundred thousand men there: Soult, Bessieres, Victor and other well-tried Marshals. Surely within a few months they will prove capable of overcoming all resistance?'
Roger shook his head. 'I do not think so. The Spaniards are gone mad, and their priests, regarding the French as atheists, are leading them into battle. Every peasant and townsman in the country has armed himself with some weapon. At least a million of them are out to spill French blood. Two-thirds of the cities are still in their hands, many French garrisons are now locked up in fortresses, half-starving; and there is hardly a road along which a convoy of supplies to relieve them can be sent without its being ambushed.'
Talleyrand refilled their glasses, and said, 'Then you are convinced that this rebellion is no flash in the pan, and cannot soon be crushed, as Napoleon maintains it will be?'
'I am. Had he remained in Spain to direct operations himself, his genius is such that he might have succeeded in coping with this hydra-headed monster. But few of his Marshals have the ability to do so. Soult is a good General but not, I think, good enough. Davoust has the brains to deal with the situation, and Massena probably; but they are both in Germany. Even were either of them given the task, in my opinion it would take at least a year to reduce these fanatical Spaniards to even partial submission.'