The applause was muted and solemn, as Napoleon had anticipated. This was no rallying call for an attack, but a grim warning that France must be ready to fight an enemy who seemed utterly relentless. As he acknowledged the clapping that echoed round the chamber Napoleon saw Whitworth rise from his seat. Their eyes met and Whitworth shook his head with regret before he turned and climbed the steps towards the exit.
It did not take long for reports of Napoleon’s address to reach London and the King quickly made his own appearance before Parliament. King George tersely rejected Napoleon’s warning, and authorised the calling up of the militia and the expansion of the Royal Navy to place it on a war footing. Napoleon responded by issuing orders for the massing of an army of over a hundred thousand men on the Channel coast. In April Talleyrand concluded negotiations with representatives of the American government for the sale of the vast swath of land in North America that formed the Louisiana territory.The price was sixty million francs. Never had land been sold so cheaply, but then again, Napoleon reasoned, never had France needed money so badly.
At the end of the month Lord Whitworth formally requested an audience with the First Consul.They met in the Luxembourg Palace. There was little attempt to exchange more than perfunctory courtesies before the English ambassador proffered a document to Napoleon. Talleyrand stood to one side, hiding his despair behind his customary mask of detachment.
‘What is this?’ Napoleon demanded.
‘A message from Prime Minister Addington, on behalf of His Majesty. He considers that the presence of so large an army on the coast directly opposite Britain constitutes a direct threat.The Prime Minister therefore requires that the army is to disband. Failure to accede to this request will be considered a hostile act.’
Napoleon took the sealed letter and laid it on his desk before he replied. ‘Might I ask how France is to interpret His Majesty’s rapid enlargement of the Royal Navy? It seems that a new ship of the line appears off our coasts almost every day. If I disband my army, will he disband his ships?’
Lord Whitworth ignored the question and gestured towards the letter. ‘I am instructed to wait until the eighth of May for your response. If you refuse to comply, then I am to leave Paris and return to London.’
Napoleon felt his heart quicken. ‘Then you will declare war on France.’
‘I did not say that, sir.’Whitworth drew himself up so that he looked down on Napoleon as imperiously as possible.‘As all men know, England desires nothing more than peace.’
Napoleon felt some last measure of restraint snap inside him as he stared back at the haughty English aristocrat. He slammed his fist down, making the letter jump. ‘Respect the treaty then! Leave Malta at once!’
For a moment, they glared at each other.Then the ambassador bowed his head and backed a few steps away.‘I shall return to the embassy. I will await your reply. Until the eighth.’
Once he had gone,Talleyrand turned to Napoleon and asked, ‘Will you disband the army?’
‘No.’>
‘Then it’s war.’
‘So it seems,’ Napoleon replied evenly. ‘Though we shall give England the ignominy of declaring it.’
‘Do you think they will?’
‘I am certain of it.’
‘Then God help us all.’
Lord Whitworth waited in Paris until the appointed day and then, having received no response from Napoleon, left Paris with his meagre household in a small convoy of carriages. Four days later he boarded a ship at Calais and set sail for England. In Parliament the Tories, urged on by the revitalised fanaticism of William Pitt, proposed a motion to declare war on France.
One morning, late in May, Napoleon was at breakfast with Josephine when a footman entered the room and approached the table carrying a sealed message. Napoleon broke the wafer, unfolded the single sheet and read the hurriedly scribbled message. He set it down with a frown and stared fixedly at the window for a moment before Josephine gave a light cough.
‘What is it, my dear? That letter.’
‘Hmmm?’ Napoleon turned to her, as if he was unsure of her words for a moment. Then he glanced at the paper. ‘Oh . . . It’s from Talleyrand. He received an official dispatch from London this afternoon. The English declared war on France on the sixteenth.’
‘War?’ There was a protracted pause before Josephine continued, ‘How long do you think it will last, this time?’
Napoleon considered the question briefly. ‘I’ve no idea. All I do know is that this time there can be no peace until England, or France, is utterly crushed. We have exhausted any other possibilities.As the saying goes, it will be a fight to the bitter end.’ He stared at the letter. It seemed an age since the last time he had gone to war.Then it had seemed glorious and he had revelled in it. But now? Napoleon felt the weary weight of his heart as he contemplated the coming conflict. There would never be a war like it. Two great powers, one dominating the land, the other master of the oceans, locked in a struggle that would embrace Europe and spread its dark wings to the far corners of the world. It would be a war on a scale that no one had ever seen before.
Chapter 66
Arthur
Poona, August 1803
Arthur laid down his razor and began to rinse the remains of the soap from his face.When he had patted away the last drops he laid down his towel and stared into the mirror. At thirty-four years of age his body still had the trim athleticism of a man ten years younger. That was down to the hard exercise that he took every day, the same regimen he insisted on for his men. Even so it had taken many months to recover from his illness, and there was grey hair at his temples. He shook his head sadly at the toll India had taken on his body.To be fair, these lands had given him the chance to develop his ideas about the best methods for waging war. If he had remained in Europe, then he would never have had independent commands on the scale of the forces he had wielded in India.
His promotion to Major General had come through the previous year and now he was leading an army of nearly twenty-five thousand regular troops and sepoys. Some months earlier, as the British had anticipated, war had broken out between the Mahratta states and the Peshwa, Bajee Rao, had come to the Governor General begging aid to help restore him to power in Poona. Richard had made good use of the opportunity to draw up an advantageous treaty before authorising Arthur to take command of the army that would place Bajee Rao back on his throne. The Governor General had learned from his embarrassment over the affair with General Baird and had first offered the command to General Stuart. But Stuart had gracefully declined and stated that Arthur should be in command since he had equipped, organised and trained the finest army ever assembled in India. Those were the very words, Arthur recalled. His professionalism and ability had been recognised and there was no longer any grudging resentment, nor the muttered accusation of nepotism, to besmirch his reputation.