The Fields of Death - Scarrow Simon - Страница 61
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‘Then you are a fool, Talleyrand. The history of mankind is the history of warfare. Men have always fought each other. They always will. Which means that the primary quality in all men is their adeptness at war. Anything else is subordinate to that need. You speak of diplomacy as if it were an art in itself. It is not.’ Napoleon leaned forward as he continued. ‘Diplomacy can only succeed in so far as it is backed up by force. For all your fine words, do you really think that you could persuade other nations to do as we wish if they did not fear the military consequences of defying us? Your kind merely provide the illusion that the affairs of nations are governed by discussion. Such delusion merely flatters the weak and undermines the strong. Any man who cannot see through such a charade fails to grasp the fundamental reality. Power defines progress. Nothing else.’
‘Then why do you have need of men like me, sire? Why waste time with diplomacy if you have such contempt for it?’
Napoleon smiled thinly. ‘Even if we are little more than brawling barbarians wrapped in fine clothes, the idea that we might be something better than that is a comforting solace to the common man. If it serves my purpose to indulge such an idea then I will do so without hesitation.’
Talleyrand considered this for a moment and shook his head. ‘There we differ, sire. You see, I believe that we are not barbarians. That we are capable of barbaric acts is beyond question. Therefore, it behoves the best of men to persuade the rest to embrace civilised values, for the long-term good of all. That is the sacred duty of the good and the great, in my view.’
‘No doubt you feel that I am not of that class?’
‘On the contrary, sire. I have always known that you possessed one of the most brilliant minds of our age, despite the disadvantage of humble origins. I do not mean that as a slight on your character. I admire you for what you have achieved. When I first met you, before your campaign in Egypt, I counted it a blessing for France that young men of such promise were available to serve her interests and see that the ideals of the Revolution lived on. Then, when you became First Consul, you dragged the governance of France into the modern age, as well as securing her safety from foreign powers on the battlefield. Your achievements were prodigious, sire. When the Peace of Amiens began I felt sure that you were about to lead us into a new golden age. But then the war resumed, and has plagued France ever since.’
Talleyrand paused and a look of sadness crossed his features. A rare expression of feeling, Napoleon noted, as the other continued. ‘It is my fear that you have lost the sensibility of a just ruler, and that you have been seduced by the glory and power of military command. At present it seems that France is being ruled according to one principle - that of facilitating the waging of war. That, sire, is a perversion of power.’
The two men stared at each other. Napoleon was quite motionless as he considered this astonishing interpretation of his character and motives. It would be easy to dismiss Talleyrand from his presence, and yet Napoleon said nothing. There was much to despise about this aristocrat, yet he had always proved to be an effective and useful sounding board to refine Napoleon’s thinking. But there was something more. Despite all the treachery of the past, the Emperor still felt an affection of sorts for Talleyrand. They were both products of the Revolution. Talleyrand had as much of a hand in Napoleon’s rise to power as any man, and he in turn had benefited from the generosity of Napoleon, first as Consul and then as Emperor.
Talleyrand broke the tense silence. ‘Sire, do you remember Tilsit?’
‘Of course. It has been much on my mind lately.’
‘Then you will remember the high hopes we had for the future. The war with the Tsar was over. Better still, when you and he met, man to man, there was a mutual regard for each other, was there not? I recall how he looked up to you, as a man of destiny. On your part, there was a certain fondness.’
‘What of it?’ Napoleon cut in tersely. ‘What is your point?’
‘You must reach an accommodation with the Tsar. You must do everything that you can to rekindle that mutual regard, and affection. There must be peace between you. Great nations must find ways to live alongside each other, or they will surely tear each other to pieces.’
‘You speak of compromise,’ Napoleon replied with disdain. ‘Compromise is nothing but the death of a thousand cuts. It bleeds a great man of his determination, of his sense of direction, of his sense of purpose, until he is nothing but a petty schemer hanging on to power by his fingertips. When that happens he is no longer great, but a figure of ridicule, and finally pity. That much I understand, Talleyrand. As does Alexander. And only one of us can be permitted to dominate the rest of Europe.’
Talleyrand settled back in his chair and his expression resolved into its usual inscrutability. ‘Then there will be war between you and the Tsar. You have resolved to carry it through. I can see that now. So what is the point of this list of grievances? If Alexander agreed to answer them, it would change nothing. You would still be determined to wage war on him.’
‘Of course. But this way, it forces him to accept the blame for the war.’
‘He is the Tsar. What does he care about the moral burden of such a responsibility?’
‘Nothing. The list of grievances is not for his eyes alone. I intend to have it published in every newspaper across Europe. I want no one to doubt that the coming war is being instigated by the Tsar. I want all Europe to see Alexander as a relentless threat to their existence. And when they do, then all the kings and princes of Europe will unite behind me, and we shall combine our strength into a vast army that will lay waste to Russia and put an end to the threat that she poses.’
‘I see.’ Talleyrand nodded.‘I see it all.’ His chair ground faintly on the polished floorboards and he rose to his feet.‘I must take my leave of you, sire. There is nothing more I can say. There is no point in our conversing on matters of policy again, for I can see now that you will lead France to ruin and you will not heed any opinion that runs counter to your will.’ He bowed his head. ‘I bid you goodbye.’
‘You will not leave,’ Napoleon said coldly. ‘I have not dismissed you.’
‘You have dismissed reason, sire. So what is the purpose of any further dialogue between us?’
‘You will not leave until I say!’
Talleyrand gazed back and Napoleon could not discern a trace of fear in either his eyes or his voice as he replied, ‘As you command, sire.’
He remained standing and Napoleon lowered his hands below the edge of the table so that Talleyrand would not see them clenching and unclenching, as if they were already clamped around the man’s throat.
‘Damn you,’ Napoleon growled. ‘Get out. Go. Out of my sight!’
‘Yes, sire.’ Talleyrand bowed his head, backed away and then turned to make his way out of the room, walking in the studied manner that he had developed to help conceal his deformed foot. The footman outside the Emperor’s study had a practised ear, and opened the door at the sound of approaching footsteps. Talleyrand passed through and turned out of sight without once looking back.
‘Send for my chief clerk!’ Napoleon shouted.
As he waited, Napoleon turned to the fire and gazed into the flames. He knew that he had lost Talleyrand’s ear for ever. There was nothing between them now but open enmity. The man would have to be placed under close watch in future, and if there was any proof of treachery, dealt with.
The sound of footsteps drew Napoleon’s attention to the approaching clerk and he turned away from the fire and indicated the document on the table.
‘Take that. Have it copied and sent to every newspaper in France. Have more copies sent to every court in Europe. Every newspaper. Every division headquarters in the army. Is that clear?’
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