‘Very well. Have him watched. But make sure that he knows nothing about it. I would not want Talleyrand to think I had lost faith in him. Just in case there is no proof of disloyalty.’
‘I understand, citizen.’ Fouché leaned forward and retrieved the folder. ‘I’ll see to it at once.’
There was something in his tone that made Napleon look sharply at his Minister of Police. There was a note of triumph there and Napoleon suddenly wondered if Fouché was genuinely concerned about Talleyrand’s loyalty, or whether he was playing a deeper game of position, undermining a potential rival in his play for greater power and influence at the heart of government. The lean face stretched over the skull and the hooded, knowing eyes did not engender trust, and Napoleon realised that Fouché - lacking public affection - was obliged to plot and scheme to secure his advancement. In the same way, Talleyrand was obliged to use his charm and wit to achieve his aims. Two sides of the same coin then, Napoleon concluded wearily. Was this how it would be from now on - a constant war of position amongst his subordinates as they plotted against each other?
‘Fouché,’ he said quietly.
‘Yes, citizen?’
‘I appreciate the conscientious, not to say zealous, manner in which you have carried out your duties. However, perhaps it might not be necessary to arrest so many of our people now that the popular vote has been taken to empower me for life.’
‘You still have enemies, citizen.’
‘And I’d prefer it if you did not provide me with any more. Understand?’
‘Yes.’
‘So tread very carefully around Talleyrand. He has powerful friends.’
‘Maybe, but that won’t save him if he commits treason.’
‘No,’ Napoleon conceded. ‘It won’t. Just make sure you have enough evidence if the moment comes.’
In the following months Napoleon regarded his chief ministers warily. Fouché continued his campaign against the rebels of the Vendée as vigorously as ever, but operated in a more restrained manner in Paris, relaxing some of the restrictions on popular entertainments and imprisoning newspaper editors less frequently. For his part, Talleyrand continued to work hard to persuade the foreign ambassadors that France was sincere in its desire for peace. His task was not made easier by the intransigence of the English and the opportunism of the First Consul. Although the British had undertaken to return Malta to the Knights of St John within three months of the treaty, the island remained in their hands. As summer ended and the British garrison remained in place, Napoleon summoned his foreign minister and the English ambassador to the château at St-Cloud that had been refurbished to act as a diplomatic residence away from the noise and grime of the capital.
In order to lend the meeting a less tense ambience Talleyrand had suggested that a buffet of regional delicacies should be laid out in the drawing room overlooking the ornate gardens. A small party of dignitaries had also been invited, and while Josephine hosted the main party the three men slipped away to a small arbour at the end of the main lawn and sat in the dappled shade of trellised vines as they talked. Lord Whitworth was tall, over six feet in height, and stiff-necked with the casual bluntness, bordering on rudeness, that seemed to characterise so many of his high-born countrymen. At least he had a decent command of French, Napoleon admitted as they swiftly moved from polite informalities to the real business of the day.
‘I have to confess,’ Lord Whitworth crossed his legs as he drawled, ‘His Majesty’s government is perplexed by France’s refusal to sign a commerce treaty between our nations.’
‘How can I agree to that, when you still remain in Malta?’ Napoleon responded. ‘Surely you can see that it is hard to justify a new treaty to my people while the previous one remains to be honoured?’
Whitworth tipped his head slightly to one side. ‘The situation has changed.’
‘No it hasn’t. Your forces are still there. A handover within three months, you said. Then you said you could not leave until a Grand Master of the order had been named. When the Pope sanctioned the new Master, you refused to ratify the appointment. When I offered to permit Neapolitan troops to provide a neutral force of occupation, you refused to let them land on the island.’ Napoleon paused and sighed.‘Lord Whitworth, France has acted with great patience in this matter, but her patience is not without its limits. So, tell me, when will England return Malta to its rightful owners?’
‘Ah, well,’ the ambassador responded awkwardly. ‘The thing is that His Majesty’s government has decided that since the initial period of three months has expired the terms of the treaty no longer apply.’
‘What?’ Napoleon responded sharply. ‘Explain yourself.’
‘It is, of course, our honest intention to quit the island. However, given that the terms of the treaty have failed to cover the present situation, England asserts that it is within its rights to retain possession of Malta.’
‘What rights?’ Napoleon snorted. ‘You have no right to be there.’
‘I beg to differ, sir.’
‘Your continued occupation breaks the spirit and the letter of the treaty and you know it.’
‘That is your opinion.’
‘It is the opinion of every rational man in Europe!’
Before Whitworth could respond to the sudden flaring up of Napoleon’s temper Talleyrand interrupted. ‘The First Consul is right, my lord.There is no worth in your government’s position, and everyone knows it.Yet I can understand your attachment to Malta. It holds a certain strategic importance to the Royal Navy, and as the new Grand Master happens to be Tsar Alexander, you are understandably nervous about providing Russia with access to the Mediterranean, especially given her interest in the disintegration of the Turkish empire.’ Talleyrand paused, and then smiled. ‘Is that a fair approximation of your government’s concerns?’
Whitworth gave a slight nod of assent. ‘I will agree that it is, for the sake of argument.’
‘Then, for the sake of argument, will you not also accept that the possible benefits of continued occupation would be as nothing compared to the vast cost in lives and wealth - should your failure to honour the treaty provoke a renewal of hostilities?’
‘Are you threatening England, sir?’ Whitworth’s tone was angry. ‘Do you desire war?’
‘No, my lord. Do you?’
‘Of course not.’
Napoleon stabbed a finger at him. ‘Then give up Malta.’
Whitworth shook his head. ‘England will not agree to that. Not yet at least.’
‘If not now, when?’
There was a brief pause before Whitworth replied, ‘Not for seven years.’
‘Seven years?’ Napoleon’s eyes widened in surprise and anger. ‘Seven years! You are joking, my lord. Surely?’
‘I assure you I am not, sir.’
‘This is an outrage!’ Napoleon clenched his hands into fists and leaned forward in his chair so suddenly that Talleyrand feared he might strike the ambassador. He rose to his feet and stepped between them.
‘Gentlemen, for pity’s sake, lower your voices.’ He gestured towards the lawn where some of the guests had turned to look towards the arbour following Napoleon’s outburst. Talleyrand continued, ‘We must subordinate our tempers to reason.The fate of Europe depends upon it.’