Josephine.
She was truly the first woman he had loved. To be sure, there had been women before her.Those who had satisfied his physical yearnings, or had been objects for his youthful veneration when, like all young men, he had desperately needed to practise his love, and be loved in turn by someone whose affection was not bound to him by family ties.With Josephine he had learned to enjoy the pleasures of the flesh without shame or embarrassment. So it had been easy to surrender to the flood of feelings: passion, loneliness, hope, anticipation and sometimes even jealousy when he received a rare letter from her in which she expressed even the slightest affection for another man. And from such feelings the words formed readily, written down as fast as his pen could manage, raw and intense.
But tonight he felt too tired, too drained, and the usual phrases of an ardent lover seemed stale and insufficient. It was no longer enough to commit his emotions to paper. He needed Josephine here and now. Dipping his pen in the inkwell, Napoleon wrote a terse note, asking why he had not heard from her for several days. If she truly loved him, he wrote, then she would do all in her power to be at his side without delay, and he expected that of her. He signed it with a formal expression of affection and then folded the paper and sealed it, tossing it on to the other correspondence to be sent to Paris in the morning.
Napoleon rose early the next day to read the latest intelligence reports. The Austrians had established a new line of defence stretching southwards from Lake Garda to the fortress town of Mantua. As ever, the key to driving the Austrians from Italy was taking Mantua, but to do that the fortress had to be cut off from the rest of the Austrian army. At the morning conference Napoleon outlined his plan.
‘We must take Mantua before the end of the year. Once we have Mantua, Austria is finished this side of the Alps,’ he began. ‘Accordingly, we will have to force a crossing of the Mincio river and drive Beaulieu north, away from Mantua, which will be besieged by Serurier.’
Berthier raised his eyebrows.
‘Do you object to my plan, Berthier?’ Napoleon asked curtly.
‘No, General, it’s sound enough, provided we can get across the river. Where do you intend to cross?’
‘At Valeggio.’
‘But that’s in the centre of Beaulieu’s line. He’ll be able to strike at us from either flank, even if we do manage to force a crossing.’>
‘That’s why we must stretch his lines of defence to breaking point,’ Napoleon smiled. ‘Augereau is to take his division up the west shore of Lake Garda. He’s to make a great show of it so that Beaulieu is fully aware of his movements. Beaulieu will recognise the threat to his supply lines and will be forced to shift his weight north to counter the threat. As soon as he does that we will cross the river.’
‘And what if he doesn’t take the bait, sir?’ asked Berthier.
‘Then Augereau’s division will march east and cut Beaulieu’s supply lines. Either way he has to react and move forces to his right flank. Then we cross the Mincio.’
‘That still leaves Mantua, sir,’ Junot pointed out. ‘We don’t have any siege artillery with the army. That means we will have to starve them out.’
‘More than likely,’ Napoleon conceded. ‘But if the Directory won’t provide us with siege guns we’ll have to find some from another source. I gather that the armies of the papal states have a more than adequate supply of heavy guns. I am certain that His Holiness will be happy to part with them, and provide us with a decent settlement, in exchange for peace with France.’
‘Blackmail,’ Berthier muttered. ‘How can we be sure it will work? What if the Pope decides to go to war? And if the King of Naples sides with him then we’ll be caught between them and the Austrians. Not a good position to be in, sir.’
‘No more dangerous than being caught between an old man and a weakling,’ Napoleon replied. ‘Trust me. The Pope is a realist. Even with God at his side he knows that victory generally goes to the bigger battalions. He will give us what we want.’
‘And if he doesn’t?’
‘Then God have mercy on him, because I won’t.’
Once the Army of Italy was in position between the Austrian army and the fortress at Mantua Napoleon turned his attention to the latter as Italy basked in the hot summer sunshine. As the French troops laid siege to the fortress Napoleon and his staff observed the proceedings from the top of a watchtower on a Venetian banker’s mansion. It was a sultry day and the climb up the narrow flight of steps had left them hot and sweating under their uniforms. From the decorative battlements of the tower the officers could see the outer works of Mantua and examine the defences through their telescopes. Napoleon watched the French advance guard marching along one of the dykes that radiated from the fortress town. Mantua had been constructed in the middle of three lakes on its northern side.To the south it was protected by a great sprawl of marshes. The five dykes were the only means of approach and these were protected by great bastions. Behind their ditches and ramparts hundreds of cannon commanded the roads that ran along the dykes.
Napoleon lowered his telescope and snapped it shut.
‘Not an easy task, I think.’ He turned round, eyes searching out General Serurier. ‘This job is for you, Serurier. There’s no chance of taking the place by a direct assault. Not until the defences are battered down. And that can’t happen until we secure the siege artillery.Your orders are to contain the Austrians. Nothing more. At least not until I can reinforce you. Are you clear on that?’
Serurier nodded. ‘Yes, General. When might I expect to have the guns and the men?’
‘Now that we have come to terms with the Pope, they will be on their way to us any day.’
Napoleon smiled at the thought. His representative, Saliceti, had made a fine job of the negotiations. All political prisoners, many of whom sympathised with the French republic, were to be released. The ports of the papal states were to be closed to the enemies of France and the Pope had been persuaded to offer France a settlement of over fifteen million francs in coin, as well as another five million in supplies. When news of the terms reached Paris the Directors would surely abandon their foolhardy notion of dividing the command of the Army of Italy, Napoleon reflected cynically. Money did not just talk, it positively shouted, and would be far more eloquent and forceful an advocate for Napoleon’s cause than any argument he might raise by himself.
Of more immediate importance, the papal armies had given up enough heavy guns to provide a siege train with more than sufficient firepower to flatten the defences of Mantua. Even now, Junot was in Rome organising the drivers and draught animals necessary to haul the guns north to Mantua. When they were in position it should only be a matter of time before the French army pounded their way in, or the Austrian garrison was starved into surrender.