‘Precisely because they lack a king,’ Napoleon explained. ‘Murat has handled his role with all the sensitivity of a common street butcher. Of course the people are resentful. They see only a French army of occupation and a French marshal acting as a dictator. But once they have a king, once civil government is restored and business can resume as before, they will settle down. Then you can offer them reforms to bring their backward institutions into the modern world. They will thank you for it, Joseph, and in a few years’ time they will come to respect and love you. I am sure of it.’
Joseph nodded appreciatively. ‘That would be something to be remembered for. Something I could be proud of, in the fullness of time.’
‘Precisely.’ Napoleon leaned towards him with an intense expression. ‘Well, then.Your condition for accepting the crown has been met. Now you must keep your part of the bargain.’
‘Yes.’ Joseph nodded, then thought for a moment and looked directly at his brother.‘There is much to be done in Spain. May I count on your support? Your full support?’
‘Of course, brother!’ Napoleon smiled and patted him affectionately on the shoulder. ‘No matter how long it takes, no matter how many men it takes, I swear that I will maintain you on the throne of Spain. I swear it.’
Chapter 42
‘Congratulations, my dear,’ said Kitty as she leaned forward and kissed Arthur. ‘It is no more than you deserve, and long overdue.’
He read through the letter from the War Office once more, just to make sure. The Secretary of State for War was pleased to inform Sir Arthur Wellesley that he was promoted to the rank of lieutenant-general in his majesty’s forces with immediate effect. Furthermore, he was requested to attend a small investiture ceremony in London, and afterwards make himself available to the Foreign Secretary in order to offer his opinions with respect to the course of the war with France.
Arthur lowered the letter on to the table and shrugged. ‘It is tempting to wonder if this might not have come a bit earlier had I not been held back by my service in India. Never mind.The promotion has come, and I am better able to serve my King and country as a result. That is the important thing.’
Kitty had returned to her seat and was fussing over the crib where their second child, Charles, was lying, tiny fists clenched as he waved them about furiously. The boy’s birth had been one of Arthur’s few consolations since his return from Denmark at the end of the previous year. Almost as soon as the convoy had put into port he had been summoned back to Dublin to resume his duties as Chief Secretary to the Duke of Richmond. He was back at his desk early in October, dealing with the same old problems that had beset Ireland for decades. The divisions between Catholics and Protestants were as pronounced as ever.There were more absentee landlords every year and the prospect of mass starvation due to the failure of the potato harvest constantly loomed.
Even as Arthur worked conscientiously to improve the lot of the Irish people, his mind was fixed on the political situation on the continent and his desire to serve his country in uniform again. Shortly after his return, news arrived of Bonaparte’s attempt to seize control of the Portuguese navy and every man and woman in Britain had breathed a sigh of relief when they heard of the escape of the Portuguese royal family and their warships, two days before French troops occupied Lisbon.
Kitty cleared her throat and Arthur glanced across the table to see her watching him closely.
‘What is it, my dear?’
‘I was wondering how long you might be spending in London this time.’
‘It is hard to say,’ Arthur replied cautiously. He was conscious that Kitty had still not completely forgiven him for the cavalier way he had joined the expeditionary force setting sail for Denmark. He had given her no warning that he was involved with the planning and preparation for the campaign. ‘But I promise that I shall write to you often and make every effort to return to Dublin as soon as I may.’
‘As long as you promise that, I shall be content, Arthur.’ She was quiet for a moment before she continued. ‘You know that I miss you, and worry for your safety when you are not here.’
‘I realise that, my dear,’ Arthur replied patiently.‘But I am a soldier as well as a civilian official.As a husband and father, it is not always possible to balance the claims of all those duties, and those persons to whom I am obliged to give my attention.’
‘I wish that you would give up soldiering,’ Kitty responded with quiet intensity as she offered her little finger to Charles, who grasped it and squeezed for all he was worth, making his mother smile faintly.‘You have done enough active service for your country already. Surely it is the turn of someone else?’
‘My dear, the long years of campaigning in India are precisely the reason why I am needed in uniform. I have valuable experience of leading men, and indeed entire armies, on campaign, and in battle. My country has profited from what I have learned.Would you deny Britain the benefit of that experience now, when we are almost within the grasp of the Corsican tyrant? Britain needs every soldier that can bear arms.’ He smiled at her. ‘If you must blame anyone for the demands made on me, then let it be Bonaparte.’
‘Wretched man,’ Kitty responded, with feeling. She was quiet a moment, thinking. ‘What drives him to desire power without limit?’
It was an interesting question and Arthur gave it some thought before he attempted to reply. ‘A difficult one to answer.There is a flaw of character in some men, whereby they are never replete with the satisfaction that comes with serving one’s country. Their sense of duty becomes corrupted by ambition to the extent that their only obligation is to themselves and hang the rest of it. I believe that Bonaparte is such a man. But he is also the child of a particular moment in history. Were it not for the revolution in France, I doubt that he would have attained any substantial rank in the French army.’
‘Truly?’ Kitty looked surprised. ‘Surely the man has remarkable talents, otherwise he would never have risen to become Emperor.’
‘Oh, he is remarkable enough,’ Arthur conceded. ‘But if there had been no revolution he would have faced the same restrictions on his advancement as I have in the British army. Indeed, given the obscurity of his social origins, I dare say he would never have been likely to rise above the rank of captain in the army that existed before the revolution. The revolution was the making of Bonaparte, just as it was of many of those who now hold powerful offices in France. It was the revolution that opened the doors of rapid promotion to so many men. It was the
