the world, elevating half of mankind and vanquishing the other. Which half will you choose?”
“The half that stays out of these quarrels entirely.”
“Impossible. Come to the globe and I will explain what you must explain to the damned English.”
We walked to a corner of the pavilion. A globe an impressive four feet in diameter had been installed since I last visited, broadening Bonaparte’s strategic aids from maps of southern England to a view of our planet. He turned it so that the Atlantic was in view.
“My admirals have failed me, Gage. Brueys, Bruix, Decrés, Ganteaume, Villeneuve, they’ve all disappointed one way or another. The strategic situation has always been simple.” His fingers jabbed. His hands are quite fine, and he’s proud of them. “Our fleet is scattered among several ports, and inferior when divided. Each harbor is penned by the British. But if we could ever combine, France could achieve temporary superiority in the Channel. An enemy that defends everything is spread so thin that it defends nothing, and the British are trying to defend all the world’s oceans. Yes, they have the better navy, but not necessarily the bigger navy in a single place at a single time. That’s the only secret to warfare.”
“Nelson is famous for concluding the same thing. At the Nile, he attacked just part of the French fleet so he was always outdueling your ships two to one.” I’d first met Nelson when his men fished me out of the Mediterranean following the Battle of the Nile. Even back in 1798, shot and shell from earlier battles had already left a sleeve empty and an eye sightless. He was relentless in action. When ordered to break off action at the Battle of Copenhagen, Nelson lifted his telescope to his blind eye in order to ignore the signal. He was a ruthless glory hound, but also a man who endured constant pain and chronic seasickness. England used his ambition to drain him.
“Perhaps Latouche-Tréville would have had the courage to take on Nelson,” Napoleon said. “He was my best ocean officer, but had the temerity to die. Now Villeneuve cowers. Two weeks’ superiority! That’s all I asked. But Villeneuve continually worries about what Nelson is going to do, rather than forcing Nelson to worry about what Villeneuve is going to do. This is a fatal error. By trying not to lose, you guarantee that you cannot win. Imagination deserts you. So now my men march toward Vienna instead of London. The gods of history shake their heads in disbelief.”
“I’m sure your admirals did their best.”
“My plan was brilliant. Villeneuve escaped Toulon when a gale drove off Nelson’s blockade. He met our Spanish allies and led Nelson merrily across the Atlantic to the sugar isles of the Caribbean. We had the ships to seize British islands and outduel the English fleet! But the coward lost his nerve. So he scampered back across the Atlantic to Europe. Even then, if Villeneuve had joined Ganteaume at Brest, we could have thrown more than sixty ships of the line into La Manche, outnumbered the English two to one, and conquered London. Eighty ships, if our Dutch allies joined us. And what did Villeneuve do? Break off the action with Calder and retreat to Spain. This is why I’m not shooting you, Gage. Your petty treacheries are nothing compared to the incompetence of my admirals.”
“It’s good to put things in perspective.”
“Villeneuve says his ships are in poor repair and his crews are tired and sick. Men are always tired and sick in war. This is why I must replace the imbecile.”
“So your fleet was bottled up in southern France at Toulon and now, after thousands of miles of sea voyages and a victory over the English, it’s bottled up in southwestern Spain? Just to make the problem clear.”
“You’re a strategist, Gage, smarter than the fool you play.”
“I try to see things clearly.” I was wary of giving advice, however. Sometimes it’s taken. Too much responsibility.
“So bring your perspective to the British. I know they’re as weary of blockading us as we’re weary of being blockaded. I suggest a truce. I’ll call off my invasion plans if they call off their blockade. My ships will stay in port. My invasion craft will rot in harbor. London will be saved. If they leave me to deal with the Continent, I’ll leave them to deal with the sea.”
I was doubtful. Once a navy assembles ships, it longs to use them. And yet, perhaps I could