NAPOLEON AND ALEXANDER AT TILSIT[8]
[Footnote 8: For the years of the Franco-Russian alliance the
French archives contain a wealth of documentary material:
regular despatches, verbatim reports of conversations between
the French ambassadors and the Czar, the news of the day in
St. Petersburg and the gossip of society. Savary and
Caulaincourt may be said to have kept their master in
personal touch with their friend and ally. There is likewise
the ordinary regular diplomatic correspondence with Austria,
Prussia, Turkey, and the other European states. An
interesting and invaluable peculiarity of French archives is,
that bound up with despatches received are the outlines of
those sent, and generally not merely a sketch, but the first
draft with all annotations and corrections, these quite often
in Napoleon's almost cryptic but still decipherable
handwriting. Much of course is in cipher, but the key is
available and sometimes the official decipherment. The
archives of St. Petersburg are also available for properly
accredited searchers; Tratchefski has gone a considerable
distance in publishing the decisive papers, and Tatistcheff
has printed many important documents in various periodicals.
Other sources have been already indicated: the published
correspondence of Napoleon and of Pozzo di Borgo, the
histories of Bignon, Lefebvre, and Rambaud, and the
monumental work of Vandal: Napoleon et Alexandre Ier, are all
of the first importance. Bertrand: Lettres inedites de
Talleyrand a Napoleon, contains the replies of the minister
to his chief. Duckworth's check at Constantinople is fully
explained by Juchereau de Saint Denys: Revolutions de
Constantinople en 1807 et 1808. Cf. also Hassel: Geschichte
der Preussischen Politik, 1807 bis 1815. Choiseul-Gouffier:
Reminiscences sur Napoleon Ier et Alexandre Ier. Adami:
Louise de Prusse, Erinnerungen der Graefen von Voss. Savary:
Memoires. Life of Sir Robert Wilson.]
The Floating Pavilion -- Emperor, Czar, and King -- The Two
Principals -- Their Relation to Frederick William -- A Diplomatic
Novelty -- Napoleon's Motives -- Great Britain and the World's
Commerce -- The Orders in Council -- Napoleon's Decrees -- Russia
as an Ally -- The Ministers and the Negotiations -- Imperial
Amusements -- The Fate of Turkey -- The Two Friends -- Work after
Play.
On the morning of June twenty-fifth, 1807, there lay anchored in the
middle of the Niemen, before Tilsit, a pavilion ingeniously
constructed by French soldiers from boats and boards. It was gaily
decorated, according to the taste of their country, with flags and
garlands. The front bore a large monogram composed of the letters N
and A interlaced. Within were two comfortable rooms, one for the
sovereigns, one for their suites. At a signal two skiffs put out, one
from each shore, amid the mingled cheers of the French and Russian
guards, drawn up in view of each other across the intervening stream.
The dull roar of cannon intoned the tidings of reconciliation. In one
boat was Alexander, suitably arrayed in uniform; in the other was
Napoleon, wearing the traditional gray coat and undress hat. The
Emperor of the French was first on board the float, and received his
guest with all that winning grace which he could so well command.
After a formal embrace he began an informal conversation, which then
continued without a break as the two schemers withdrew to the
apartment arranged for their interview. The staff, at a respectful
distance, could catch nothing of what was said, and although the
interview lasted nearly two hours, no words of it are known except the
opening phrases, reported by Napoleon himself. "Sire," remarked the
Czar, "I shall second you against the English." "In that case," was
the reply, "everything can be arranged, and peace is made." Some doubt
has been cast on the literal truth of this momentous dialogue, since
it rests on a single authority. For a century it has not been denied,
and the cup of bitterness which England had held to Alexander's lips
was certainly brimming. Since the beginning of hostilities Great
Britain had failed in every single engagement. Her naval force in the
Baltic was puny, but it preyed on Russian commerce; the promised war
material did not arrive; her support at Constantinople was farcical;
she had no more heart in Turkish partition than before and ever
since; Canning was less than half-hearted and favored Austria to
Russia's disadvantage; even the money support expected and tacitly
promised was refused. The Czar knew that he had been betrayed by
England in the interest of Austria: he did not know how grave had been
Napoleon's coquetry in a similar suit. He was as much bent on the
emancipation of Russian commerce from English tyranny as Napoleon on
the "freedom of the seas," the revolutionary phrase for British
humiliation. The conversation may well have taken place literally as
reported: even though the Czar hoped to postpone the rupture for some
months, he may have given his complete confidence under four eyes. Who
can measure the fascination under which the young enthusiast fell at
first sight? In any case nothing apparently occurred to disturb the
amiability of either monarch. It was doubtless agreed that they should
form a dual alliance, absolute and exclusive.[9] "I have often slept
two in a bed," the suave but inelegant Napoleon was heard to say at a
subsequent meeting, "but never three." Savary declared that the
smiling and complacent young Czar thought the remark delightful. The
meaning of the riddle, if riddle there be, was, of course, that
Austria could no longer count as an equal in the Continental Olympus,
the membership of which was thus reduced to two.
[Footnote 9: On this point, see Vandal: Napoleon et Alexandre
Ier, Ch. I.]
The Czar's conscience smote him in regard to his desertion of
Prussia, but with no great effort he obtained material concessions for
her from his new ally. The same afternoon an armistice was arranged
with Frederick William, by the terms of which he temporarily kept his
strong places in Silesia and Pomerania; but his propositions for an
alliance were incontinently rejected. Next day there was another
meeting on the same raft, but this was tripartite, for the King of
Prussia was present. Napoleon was blunt and imperious, reproaching
Frederick William with the duplicity of his policy, vindictively (the
descriptive word he used himself), and with emphasis, demanding
Hardenberg's dismissal. At parting he invited Alexander to dinner, but
ostentatiously omitted to include Frederick William in the request. It
was agreed that to expedite the final negotiations the three monarchs
should remain on the ground; one half the town of Tilsit was
neutralized and divided into three portions, each of the three parties
to take up his residence in one. This closed the preliminaries, and
the two emperors returned with mutual satisfaction to the respective
sides of the river from which they had come. The sensations of
Frederick William, who accompanied Alexander, must have been those of
a soldier on the field under a capital operation in surgery. That very
afternoon the Czar removed to the quarter of Tilsit appropriated to
him. The King of Prussia took lodgings in the house of a miller, but
spent only a part of each day in them, preferring the melancholy
solitude of the neighboring hamlet of Piktupoenen, where he and
Hardenberg had last alighted.
Alexander was now thirty years of age, sanguine, ambitious,
impressionable, and mature in proportion to his years. His features
were well formed on Slavic lines, his look was sympathetic, and his
form elegant. The many graces of his mind and person were natural. "My
friend," wrote Napoleon to Josephine on the twenty-fifth, "I have
just met the Emperor Alexander. I have been much pleased with him; he
is a very handsome, good young emperor; he has more intelligence than
is generally thought." Napoleon himself was only eight years older,
but his mind was more penetrating and adroit by a whole generation.
The classic cast in his features, which only a few years before made
sculptors mold him like the statue of the young Augustus, had nearly
disappeared. A complete transformation had been produced in his bodily
appearance by the robust health he had for some time enjoyed. He had
become more of a primitive Italian and less of a Roman. His skin was
now clear and of a rich, dark tint. His powerful frame was fully
developed, and while fat, he was not obese; the great head sat on a
neck which was like a pillar in thickness and strength. His expression
was slightly sensuous about the mouth and chin, but his eyes were
quick and penetrating in their glance. It was rarely that his gaze was
intent. The good manners and polished courtesy in which he indulged at
this time were an unwonted luxury.
Cobenzl said that the last step but one to universal conquest was to
divide the world between two. At that moment there was little doubt as
to which of these two would ultimately survive. Alexander was
impressionable and eager for friendship. He was flattered by the
attentive and considerate manner of the greatest man in Europe. The
glittering, intoxicating generalities of Napoleon attracted his
aspiring mind, while the fascination of the Emperor's person strongly
moved his heart. On the other hand, the influence of the Czar on the
Emperor was substantial. Beneath his frank and chivalric manners,
behind his enthusiasm and romanticism, lay much persistence and shrewd
common sense. The advantages which he gained were granted by Napoleon
mainly from motives of self-interest, for Russia, strong, was the best
helper in reducing Austria to impotence; nevertheless, they were
secured largely through personal influence, and were substantial
advantages which might be permanent in case of disaster to a single
life. Frederick William was only two years younger than Napoleon. His
development had been slow; he was well-meaning but dull, proud but
timid. Though destined to see a regeneration of Prussia under his own
reign, he had as yet done nothing to further it, and in an access of
resentment had declared a war in which she had been virtually
annihilated. His former ally insisted that he should occasionally
attend the conferences, but his presence was distasteful to Napoleon.
Thus he sat, dejection and despair stamped on his homely face;
haughty, yet a suppliant; a king, yet only by sufferance. Fortunately
his queen, Louisa, the woman of her day, beautiful, virtuous, and
wise, came finally to his support. Her hopes were destined to be
rudely shattered, and her charm was to be used in vain; but it was her
presence alone which gave any dignity to Prussia at Tilsit.
Both from the place and circumstances, from the station and character
of the persons negotiating, as well as from the nature of the results,
the meeting at Tilsit is the most remarkable in the history of
diplomacy. The motives which disposed Napoleon to an armistice were
plain enough; those which determined his later conduct can only be
divined. Prussia had seemed to the French liberals of the Revolution
to belong by nature to their system: they were quite as angry with her
persistent neutrality as was either Austria or England, both of whom
thought she should adhere to them, if only for self-preservation.
Napoleon's repeated but vain attempts to secure a Prussian alliance
before Jena, or a separate negotiation afterward, rooted this
traditional bitterness in his mind. To secure the prize for which he
was fighting he had only two courses open: either to restore Poland as
the frontier state between the civilization of his empire and the
semi-barbarism and ambitions of Russia, or else to negotiate with
Russia herself.
The former course meant an interminable warfare with Russia, Austria,
and Prussia, at a distance of fifteen hundred miles from Paris; for
Russia would fight to the death rather than lose the only possessions
which put her into the heart of Europe, and thus be relegated to the
character of an Asiatic power. The Emperor of the French had already
seen after Eylau how untrustworthy the grand army was, even in Poland;
if dejected and insubordinate there, as he may well have recalled was
actually the case, what would it be on the banks of the Dnieper, in
the plains of Lithuania? Such considerations probably determined not
only the fact of peace, but its character. In order to secure what he
had gained in western, southern, and central Europe, England must be
brought to terms. Russia must therefore not only be an ally, but a
hearty ally: as the price of her subscription to the Berlin Decree,
and the consequent closing of her harbors to English shipping, she
could gratify any reasonable ambition, and might virtually dictate her
own terms. With an engine in his hands as formidable as Russia's
adhesion to his commercial policy, he could act at the nick of
time,--which, as he declared at this very season to Joseph, was the
highest art of which man is capable,--could destroy England's
commerce, and in a long peace could consolidate the empire he had
already won. His empire thus consolidated, he would be virtual master
of half the solid earth in the Eastern hemisphere. If ambition should
still beckon him on, he would still be young; he could then consider
the next step to universal empire.
It may safely be said that Great Britain was never more haughty than
at this moment. Her king had turned the ministry of "All the Talents"
out of doors; for after Fox's death the combination lost all dignity
and power. The Duke of Portland was now prime minister. He was a blind
but energetic conservative, his Toryism, unlike that of Pitt in his
enlightened days, being of the sort which lay close to his sovereign's
heart. England's monopoly of European commerce seemed assured: Sweden,
Denmark, and the Hanse towns were the only important seafaring powers
of Europe that retained a nominal neutrality, and it was only a
question of time when they must accept terms either from France or
from her. With every other European nation embroiled in the Napoleonic
wars and deeply concerned for its own territorial integrity, the
United States of America was her only real maritime rival, and she had
bullied us into a temporary acquiescence in her interpretation of
international law.[10]
[Footnote 10: The importance of American commerce at that
time has not usually had due recognition; statement of its
value see Mahan: The Influence of Sea Power upon the French
Revolution and Empire, Vol. II, pp. 231-2.]
When colonies were first recognized as essential to the prosperity of
European nations, the rule was universally observed that only the
mother country could trade with her own. In 1756 France endeavored to
break this rule by permitting neutral ships to engage in traffic
between herself and her West Indian possessions. England at once laid
down the "rule of 1756," that neutrals should not exercise in time of
war privileges of traffic which they were not permitted to enjoy in
time of peace; and this principle she was able to maintain more or
less completely until 1793, when France declared war on her, and again
invited neutral commerce to French colonial harbors. England, having
regained her supremacy of the seas, reasserted in 1793 the rule of
1756, but nevertheless so modified it the following year that she
permitted neutral traders to break, in their own or in her harbors,
their voyages from or to colonial ports. In 1796 France notified all
neutrals that she would treat them just as they permitted Great
Britain to treat them, and in 1798 shut all her harbors to any vessel
which had even touched at a British port. This state of affairs
continued until the peace of Amiens. When war was renewed in 1803
between England and France the former again asserted the rule of 1756
as binding, while indirect trade between neutral ports and the ports
of an enemy was again allowed, but under the new proviso that the
neutral ship did not on her outward voyage furnish the enemy with
goods contraband of war. This privilege of indirect trade was
invaluable to American ship-owners, and for two years the ocean
commerce of all Europe was in their hands. The fortunes they thus
accumulated were enormous, while Great Britain saw her own
manufactures displaced by those of continental nations, and the
colonies of her enemies prospering as never before. In 1805,
therefore, she withdrew the privilege of indirect trade, and her flag
being, after Trafalgar, the only belligerent one left on the ocean,
proceeded both to enforce the new rule and to abuse the proviso
concerning neutral vessels carrying contraband of war by ruthlessly
exercising the right of search. Under the orders in council of
September fifth, 1805, every neutral ship must be examined to see
whether its lading was a cargo of neutral goods, or whether it
contained anything contraband. This could only mean that every
American ship laden with other than American goods was to be seized;
and in May of the following year, by the still more notorious order of
the sixteenth, Great Britain declared that every European harbor from
Brest to the mouth of the Elbe was blockaded. This was a distance of
eight hundred miles, and even she had not ships enough to enforce her
decree. Trafalgar had turned the heads of English statesmen.
This paper blockade was the challenge which called forth the Berlin
Decree from Napoleon. American ships, like those of the French, were
for a time seized, searched, and detained by the British on the
slightest suspicion that they were either leaving or were destined for
a hostile port, while their sailors were pitilessly impressed. The
government at Washington authorized reprisals, but American
ship-owners found it more profitable to compromise than to resist, and
Monroe came to an understanding with the English ministry; the
prosperity of American shipping was again revived, and the merchants
of the United States continued to prosper by carrying English wares
under the American flag into harbors where the union jack was
forbidden. By this evasion Great Britain retained her commercial
supremacy, and her prosperity was rather increased than diminished.
She withheld a similar cooeperation from Sweden and Russia until it was
too late, her enterprise being chiefly concerned to open new channels
for her commerce in Egypt and in South America.
How was this leviathan, which was drawing the wealth of all Europe to
its stores, and eluding or repelling all attack on its chosen
element--how was this tyrant of the ocean to be slain? Clearly the
Americans must be so harassed and annoyed that in the end the public
spirit of the United States would be aroused to resent English
control, and bid defiance to Great Britain's assumption of maritime
supremacy. To this end the rigid enforcement of the Berlin Decree
would be well adapted in the long run, but in the interval much could
be done: if its principle could be extended to the destruction of all
smuggling, to the absolute exclusion of British commerce from the
entire Continent--not only from the seaports, but from the
markets--the end would be gained. With Russia's cooeperation alone was
this possible. Napoleon's present plan, therefore, was to secure
France and the French Empire, as far as won, by compelling the world
to a lasting peace through the immediate establishment of a
counterpoise, the French and Russian empires against Great Britain,
leaving time to do its perfect work of exasperating the rising naval
power of the United States into open hostility against the parent
land.
These, it seems, must have been the considerations which controlled
the course of affairs at Tilsit. The deliberations were both formal,
so called, and informal. At the former were present the three
sovereigns with their ministers--Talleyrand for France, Kurakin and
Labanoff for Russia, Kalkreuth and Goltz for Prussia; at the latter
were sometimes all three of the monarchs, frequently only the two
principals, for they found Frederick William a damper on their
hilarity. The generals, the staff, and the men of the two great armies
which had fought so bravely at Friedland harmonized in mutual respect;
but the unwarlike King and his suite, both military and civil, were
outsiders. Immediately after the formal and brilliant entry of
Alexander into Tilsit, Napoleon began the exchange of prisoners, and
despatched messengers commanding his forces in Germany to restore to
their sovereign the territories of Mecklenburg, whose reigning house
was kin to the Czar. For Frederick William there was scarcely a show
of kindness--nothing, in fact, but a cold condemnation of Hardenberg,
to whose influence, combined with that of the military party, the
conqueror charged Prussia's declaration of war. This minister,
banished at Napoleon's instance, was near by. The King pleaded in vain
that he might still serve as mentor in the coming negotiation; the
Emperor scornfully refused. There were no others available, rejoined
the King. Napoleon named several: among them, and probably not by
inadvertence, Stein. This great name is welded to the regeneration of
Prussia, but its bearer was a liberal in the measures he enforced.
Hardenberg, great and adroit as he was, stood for the passing
conservatism, and while he was indefatigable to the end, he was after
all a worker at twilight, unable to see the coming metamorphosis of
old Europe into the new. It was a proposition outlined by him which
brought forward the first vital question, the partition of Turkey. His
sovereign's stateliest lands had been gained by the partition of
Austria and of Poland; he now suggested that Russia and Austria should
divide the Danubian principalities between them, that France should
take Greece and her isles, and that Poland should be restored and
given to the King of Saxony, who in turn should hand over his German
domains to Prussia. The Czar accepted the paper, which was
communicated to him as approved by the King, but kept silence.
A favorite amusement of the two emperors was playing with the French
army. Napoleon delighted in the display of his condescension to the
men, and in the exhibition of their enthusiastic affection for him.
Their drill, their uniforms, the niceties of military ceremonial, the
gorgeous drum-majors twirling their batons or marching in puffy
state--every detail fascinated the Czar, whose house, said
Czartoryski, was affected with the disease of paradomania.
[Illustration: Napoleon Exposition, 1895.
NAPOLEON, by Ingres.
From nature, during a mass at the Tuileries. Belonging to M. Germain
Bapst]
At an opportune moment on one of these reviewing expeditions,
Napoleon, surrounded by all the splendors of his power, was approached
by a hurrying courier, who put into his hands despatches announcing
the overthrow of the Sultan Selim. "It is a decree of Providence,
announcing the end of Ottoman empire!" he cried. Thenceforth he talked
incessantly of the Orient. As if inspired by prophetic fire, he
sketched a missionary enterprise for the liberation and regeneration
of Greece, and for the emancipation and reorganization of the lands
and peoples on the Danube and in the Levant by distributing them among
enlightened sovereigns. It was language identical with that which
Catherine the Great employed to inspire her people and her descendants
for Russia's policy. But the millennium must wait; for the present the
barbarous Turks must be driven back, not by force, but by a steady,
continuous application of the policy thus outlined; the consummation,
when reached, would be permanent. For the moment more immediate and
pressing matters must be settled; when Alexander should pay his
promised visit to Paris they would have more abundant leisure to
discuss ulterior plans. These dazzling prospects were a part of the
Czar's consideration. He promised in return to conclude a separate
peace with Turkey, which, in the absence of French support, he doubted
not he could make most favorable. But in case the Porte should prove
obdurate, a provisional plan of partition was drawn up to indicate
approximately what Russia might expect.
As the days passed, a routine life was gradually established. The two
emperors met privately in the morning, and chatted about every
conceivable point, pacing the floor or bending with heads touching
over the map of Europe to consider its coming divisions. Alexander had
said at the outset that his prejudice against Napoleon disappeared
at first sight, and later he exclaimed, "Why did we not meet sooner?"
He now repudiated any fondness whatever for the "legitimate" politics
of Europe; he had visited the Bourbon pretender, the so-called Louis
XVIII, at Mittau, and had found him of no account; he even accepted
the light suggestion of his new-found friend that the Russian
councilor Budberg should have no share in the conferences, as being
possibly too closely wedded to old ideas. "You be my secretary," said
Napoleon, "and I will be yours." In the afternoon the King of Prussia,
with his staff, was generally invited to join their cavalcade for a
ride. The Emperor of the French gave in later years a malicious
account of these jaunts. Himself a fearless though awkward horseman,
he spurred his charger to full speed, and the Czar followed with glee,
while the King, as timid in the saddle as in the cabinet, jounced and
bounced, often knocking Napoleon's arms with his elbows. The French
and Russian officers paired in good-fellowship, while the few
Prussians rode together. Constantine gathered Murat, Berthier, and
Grouchy about him, and treating them on equal terms, displayed the
strongest proofs of his regard. The dinners which followed, though
always large and stately, were made short, for the emperors wished to
be alone as quickly and as long as possible. The Czar was full of
curiosity. How did Napoleon win victories? How did he rule men? What
were his family relations? How did he regulate his inner life? The
Emperor was full of good humor: he told again and again the tale of
his victories, and expounded the principles on which he had won them;
he explained with candor and in detail the structure and workings of
his administrative machine; he opened his heart, and told how its
strings had been wrung by the death of the "Little Napoleon," the
eldest son of Queen Hortense.
In such pleasant converse the hours of ease rolled swiftly by, and
then the work of negotiation began once more. Where differences
appeared, Napoleon evaded close discussion and passed to other
matters. Next morning early, the Czar would receive a carefully
worded, concise note on the points at issue, together with an
argument. Sometimes he replied in writing, more frequently not. When
they met again, Napoleon sought, or appeared to seek, a compromise,
and never in vain. The council of ministers, in which there was not a
single man of force except Talleyrand, received the conclusions from
time to time, and elaborated the details.