THE EMPIRES OF LAND AND OCEAN[19]
[Footnote 19: References as before, and Mahan: Influence of
Sea Power upon the French Revolution and Empire. Loir: Etudes
d'histoire maritime. Clowes: The Royal Navy. Stanhope: Life
of Hon. William Pitt.]
Diplomacy at St. Petersburg -- Internal Politics of Russia --
Alexander's Perplexities -- War between Great Britain and Russia
-- New Orders in Council -- The Milan Decree -- Position of the
United States -- The Regeneration of Prussia -- Napoleon's
Repressive Measures -- Austria's New Army -- Diplomatic Tension
between Russia and France -- Designs of Napoleon as to Egypt --
He Temporizes with Alexander -- Caulaincourt and Tolstoi -- The
Czar's Demands -- Napoleon's Visit to Italy -- Limitations of his
Ambition -- Visions of Oriental Empire -- Control of the
Mediterranean -- His Proposition to Russia -- His Complete
Program.
The diplomatic intrigues at St. Petersburg were intensely amusing
after the peace of Tilsit. Alexander coquetted with the English
agents, and concealed his plans from the conservative Russians. His
lips were sealed about what had occurred at the meeting with Napoleon,
and the charge has been disproved that some of his suite blabbed
enough to the British diplomats to enable them to divine the rest.
Canning's acuteness and his conviction that Napoleon and Alexander had
reached an understanding hostile to England sufficiently account for
the bombardment of Copenhagen, and place the responsibility for it on
his shoulders. But in the interval before that event the Czar cajoled
the English embassy until they felt assured of a triumph, while
almost simultaneously he assured Lesseps, the French consul-general,
how precious Napoleon's society had been to him, and declared that if
England did not yield the two allies would compel her. To the formal
introductory communications of Russia concerning peace, Canning
replied by a demand for the secret articles of Tilsit, and despatched
the fleet to the Baltic. The successful stroke made in September at
Copenhagen filled the Czar with solicitude; for, like his ally, he had
hoped to gain time, and such promptness in imitating Napoleon's
contempt for neutral rights dismayed him. It looked as though this
were the first event in a maritime war which would end by destroying
the shipyards at Cronstadt, or perhaps even St. Petersburg itself. But
instead of further aggression came a new mission from the London
cabinet asking for Alexander's good offices in appeasing Denmark, and
offering every indemnity to that power except the restoration of the
fleet. Great Britain, commanding the Baltic, could be magnanimous.
[Illustration: From the collection of W. C. Crane. Engraved by
Langier.
QUEEN HORTENSE.
Painted by Girodet.]
This conjunction of affairs destroyed Alexander's self-control. He had
played the friend of England to no advantage, and England now asked
for new and impossible proofs of his friendship. He could neither
disclose to her the secret articles nor mediate in her behalf with a
country which had already joined his own system. On the other hand,
Savary, the French ambassador, and Lesseps, the French consul-general,
were daily reminding him of his engagements to Napoleon. There was
little need, for the alliance meant to him the attainment of his most
cherished ambitions: the acquisition of Finland to the westward, and
of the great Danube principalities of Moldavia and Wallachia to the
south. In all contingencies he had to reckon with the wealthy Russian
proprietors, whose prosperity demanded the easy export of their
enormous produce in timber and grain by the same British ships which
supplied them with essential articles that were not manufactured in
Russia. To them the continental blockade was a horror, and many in the
army declared they would not shed their blood to undermine the
national prosperity.
This tension could not last. The English secretly introduced into
Russia a pamphlet charging that the peace of Tilsit had separated the
Czar from both his people and his troops. Savary, mindful of his old
detective arts, discovered its origin and adroitly laid the facts
before Alexander, who burst into angry abuse of the "libel," and
bemoaned the lack of able men to support him both in a wise foreign
policy and in such internal reforms as the abolition of serfdom, which
he was determined to accomplish. Moreover, Napoleon's conduct was such
as to produce serious uneasiness. So far from evacuating Prussia,
French troops still occupied all her harbor towns, and menaced the
Russian frontier as if their commander were a foe and not a friend.
The agreement made with Kalkreuth for the gradual withdrawal of the
French army from Prussia was held to be null, for the Prussians could
not raise the indemnity of a hundred and fifty million francs computed
as the direct cost of the war. To this was added the fact that no move
was made toward the dismemberment of Turkey. The Emperor of the French
had seized and fortified Corfu, but in a preliminary armistice between
Russia and Turkey, due to his intermediation, not a word was said
about the Danubian principalities; although the Russian troops were
still in Wallachia, it was clear that French influence was daily
growing stronger at Constantinople, and might grow strong enough to
thwart the Czar's plans entirely.
Such were the disquieting considerations which finally brought to a
climax the relations of Russia with England. On October twenty-sixth,
Lord Leveson-Gower, the English ambassador, received a note from Count
Rumianzoff to the effect that twice Russia had taken up arms for
England's advantage, and had in vain solicited even such cooeperation
as would seem to have been in Great Britain's own interest. She had
not even asked, said the writer, for reinforcements, but merely for a
diversion, and had been chagrined to see that her ally, so far from
maintaining the Czar's cause, had instead, like a cold observer of the
bloody theater where war had been kindled at her behest, despatched
expeditions on her own behalf to seize Egypt and to attack Buenos
Ayres. After all this the Czar had still offered his mediation, but in
vain: Great Britain had replied by an act of unheard-of violence,
despoiling an ancient and dignified monarchy. Could the Czar apologize
for such a deed? It was insulting to expect it. After reciting these
grievances and asserting the principles of the armed neutrality, the
paper announced a rupture of all diplomatic relations until reparation
should be made to Denmark.
War was formally declared by Russia on November seventh, and England
retorted by orders in council, issued on the eighteenth and
twenty-sixth of the same month, which declared that every continental
port closed to her flag was thereafter in a state of blockade. The
neutral states were each and all notified that she would exercise the
right of search to the fullest extent; that all neutral ships must put
into English harbors before proceeding to their destination, and pay a
duty in case of reexportation of their cargoes. An exception to this
latter regulation was made in the case of the United States, they
being graciously permitted to have direct commercial intercourse with
Sweden, but with Sweden only. This, of course, meant that neutral
states must either carry on England's trade under their own flags or
abandon their commerce altogether.
This measure was in utter contempt of international law, even as then
understood, and was a high-handed outrage against neutral powers, in
particular against the United States. It was treating the ocean
exactly as Napoleon had treated the lands of Europe. But it was a
powerful weapon, for if successfully enforced it would destroy
Napoleon's Continental System entirely. Accordingly, in pursuance of
his policy that fire must be fought with fire, the Emperor retorted
with equal ruthlessness, fulminating the terrible Milan Decree of
December seventeenth, 1807. In it he declared that any vessel which
obeyed the orders of the English admiralty or suffered itself to be
searched was and would be regarded as an English ship. It was
essential, therefore, that any nation desiring exemption from the
enactments of the Berlin and Milan decrees on the one hand and of the
English orders in council on the other must make itself respected by
force of arms. The Americans must either accept the humiliating terms
of England or enter the French system and seek in a maritime war to
capture the continental markets for themselves.
Napoleon, as has already been narrated, intended to force them into
the latter course immediately, but he was not well informed concerning
American affairs. Jefferson was at that time in his second term as
President of the United States. The Democratic party, of which he was
the leader, was vastly more concerned with agricultural than with
commercial interests. They were afraid to increase the public debt,
cared little for the prosperity of New England commerce, and, seeking
to avoid the dilemma arranged for them by England and France, passed
the notorious embargo act forbidding all foreign commerce whatsoever.
American ships must avoid foreign waters, which, like the land, had
become the arena of a bloody duel in which the United States were not
interested--so, at least, the Democrats fondly believed. Exports to
England fell in a single year from forty-nine to nine millions of
dollars. In other words, the embargo, though causing great distress,
could not be perfectly enforced, since the Eastern merchants continued
their humiliating submission to England for the sake of their
lucrative speculations.
At the same time the farmers were suddenly awakened to the fact that
in the end they suffered as much under the prohibition as the traders.
In the resulting agitations Jefferson closed his public career without
eclat. Madison wisely secured a modification of the embargo by the
Non-intervention Act, which opened all foreign commerce except that
with England and France. But the merchants of New England were
rebellious and dissatisfied even with this. The Federalists wanted a
navy and a place in the European system; in other words, a fair share
in the world's carrying-trade for the seafarers of the Atlantic coast.
Matters drifted on in general discontent and mutual recrimination
until 1810. Napoleon in that year shrewdly announced that he had
abandoned his policy, but for all that he actually continued to
enforce it. This empty pretense of friendship embroiled the United
States still further with England, and in the end led to a second war
for independence.
The Czar had no sooner taken the decisive step of finally declaring
war on England than the Napoleonic policy began further to unfold.
Prussia was at once compelled to follow her protector's example, and
before the ensuing season all her harbors were fortified and closed.
In spite of the French occupation, a national reform movement had
begun in this land. In Koenigsberg was formed the League of Virtue,
which focused the new morality and patriotism of the masses. The pens
of Fichte, Schleiermacher, and other great writers continued to build
up public spirit. Stein accepted office, stipulating that the privy
council should be abolished, and then freed the serfs. Among other
important reforms he destroyed the old distinction between land
tenures, and made transfers simple. Self-government was granted to the
cities. The schools were entirely reconstructed under the direction of
William von Humboldt, and the University of Berlin was founded as a
nursery for the new national spirit.
Under these influences the monarchy of Frederick the Great ceased to
exist; the authority of the "yunker" class which supported it and had
rashly brought on the war with France was temporarily eclipsed by a
wholesome expression of national vigor, and the enlightened liberalism
of Prussia became the stimulus for a similar movement in all Germany.
As to the army, Gneisenau and Scharnhorst entered with zeal upon the
task of reorganization, and the latter was a very genius of reform.
Napoleon at length showed his true colors, forbade his victim to
maintain more than forty-two thousand troops, and declared to the face
of Frederick William's brother in Paris that the occupation of the
fortresses had passed from the narrow domain of particular politics
into the great field of general policy. He meant, of course, that he
was thereby virtually holding in check not merely Prussia, but Russia
and Austria as well. The limitation set by him to the active military
force of the captive state was easily evaded by the subterfuge of
substituting new recruits for those who had completed their training
in the ranks; but the French occupation seemed to be virtually
permanent.
The military reorganization of Austria was already complete, and
Metternich wrote on July twenty-sixth, 1807, to Stadion, the minister
of state, that as the peace of Tilsit had sown broadcast the germs of
its own destruction, the wisdom of his correspondent's administration
would one day bring Austria to the point where three hundred thousand
men united under one will and directed to one goal would play the
first role in Europe, "in a moment of universal anarchy, at one of
those epochs which always follow great usurpations, and wipe out the
traces of the conquerors; an epoch of which no one can foretell the
date, but which nothing postpones except the life of a single man, and
which all the genius of that man can so much the less postpone as he
has not yet taken the first step to preclude its certain results."
This reference to Napoleon's childlessness and the dependence of his
system on his single life is clear enough. The Emperor of the French
was himself thoroughly aware of the influence exerted by such a
consideration upon the course of affairs, and in consequence his
dealing with Francis was somewhat less peremptory than that with
Frederick William. Nevertheless, the results were exceedingly
humiliating to Austria's pride. In a treaty concluded at Fontainebleau
on October tenth, 1807, with reference to the Italian frontier, her
dominions were shorn to the quick. At Napoleon's suggestion, Count
Starhemberg, her ambassador in London, intimated that England, in the
interest of peace, ought to restore the Danish fleet and make terms
with France. On the prompt refusal of Great Britain to listen, the
envoy withdrew from London; but he did not leave the English cabinet
in doubt as to the cause. He knew and broadly hinted that though his
master dared not trifle with a Franco-Russian alliance, his heart was
with the English cause. To all outward appearance, therefore, Austria
was quite as subservient as Prussia to the mighty coalition of
France and Russia.
Almost immediately after the rupture with England, Alexander had the
mortification of seeing his worst fears realized. Napoleon had opened
to him at Tilsit a dazzling vista of territorial aggrandizement.
Slowly but surely the desired effect was produced. Aware of all the
dangers he ran, the Czar nevertheless sacrificed every other
consideration, even that of his people's material comfort, in order to
demonstrate his good faith. By declaring war he likewise paid in
advance. But at the earliest possible moment, on November seventh, his
ambassador to France, sent for the purpose, demanded the return--to
wit, the two principalities of Wallachia and Moldavia. Simultaneously
and in another quarter this same demand was made emphatic. Immediately
after the meeting at Tilsit, Guilleminot, a French general, had been
sent as mediator between Russia and Turkey to the seat of war on the
Danube. An armistice was concluded under his direction at Slobozia, in
which were two or three compensatory clauses promising that Russia
would make restitution to Turkey of certain vessels and munitions of
war which had been captured. The Czar professed to take great umbrage
at these stipulations. Shortly afterward he rejected the whole paper,
and the Russian troops remained in Wallachia. This conduct was
intended to indicate his obstinate determination to have the vague
promises of Napoleon defined, and then to secure their performance.
The Emperor of the French had been kept well informed by Savary, and
knew that the Tilsit alliance, being distasteful to the Russian
people, hung on the personal good will of their sovereign. He would
have been glad to put Alexander off with some slight rectification of
the border-line between Russia and Turkey and with further indefinite
promises, but he dared not. Accordingly he devised the plea that the
aggrandizement of the Eastern and Western empires must keep equal
pace, not in the West, for that was his by right, but in those
debatable lands wherewith Russia hoped to secure a permanent seat in
the councils of Europe. He was confirmed in his desire to postpone the
partition of Turkey by finding that Mustapha, the Sultan who had
overthrown Selim in defiance of France, was now ready in turn to make
friends with her and perform her behests. The hope of getting Egypt
was again awakened, but the times were not ripe and delay must be
secured.
In addition to these considerations there was that of immediate
safety. The last two campaigns had seen Napoleon a victor, once over
Austria and Russia combined, again over Prussia and Russia combined;
but in each there had been moments when the coalition of the three
would have overwhelmed him. For this reason he would gladly have
declared at Tilsit that the house of Hohenzollern had ceased to reign,
in order thereby to preclude any future danger from a triple alliance.
This idea he had abandoned for the time in order to gratify Alexander.
His ally secure, he now returned or pretended to return to it. Prussia
was regaining her strength too rapidly; her embittered hostility was
an ever-increasing menace. On the plea that she could never pay the
promised indemnity, and was therefore to be treated as a bankrupt,
Napoleon declared at last that Russia could have the Danube provinces
if France could take Silesia for the grand duchy of Warsaw. "Prussia,"
ran Napoleon's despatch on this subject--"Prussia would have but two
millions of inhabitants; but would not that be enough for the welfare
of the royal family, and is it not in their interest to place her
without delay and with perfect resignation among the inferior
powers, since all their efforts to restore the position she has lost
merely serve to distress their subjects and cherish idle regrets?"
"What the Emperor would prefer," said this same memorandum, "is that
the Turks should remain in peaceable possession of Wallachia and
Moldavia; still he would hand over these provinces to the Czar in
return for a just compensation from Prussian lands; and finally,
though far from wishing a complete partition of Turkey, he desires you
not to condemn utterly the plan, but rather to dwell on the motives
for postponing it. This ancient project of Russian ambition is a tie
which can bind Russia to France."
For the purposes of this difficult negotiation Napoleon had chosen
Caulaincourt, his devoted servant and most adroit diplomat. Having
been concerned in the expeditions to Strasburg and Ettenheim which
captured Enghien, the ambassador had been deeply, though unjustly,
involved in the disrepute of the execution, and that fact was a tie
which bound him to his master. The two seemed thoroughly to understand
each other. Alexander had chosen an envoy who was the very antipodes
of the adroit and elegant Caulaincourt. Count Tolstoi was a bluff
soldier, selected in the belief that he would be uninfluenced by the
intrigues of Paris society, and could secure the utmost return for the
agreement of Tilsit by direct negotiation with the Emperor himself, as
one old soldier talking with another. This officer was instructed to
lay great stress on the liberation of Prussia, but to remember that
the object of his mission was to cement harmony and confidence. On the
journey to Paris he paused at Memel to pay his respects to Frederick
William and his Queen. He found them, considering their station,
actually in want, dependent on the Czar's gifts of clothes and other
necessaries for the little personal comfort they enjoyed. This made a
deep impression on Tolstoi's heart, and though received at Paris with
such distinction as had never been accorded to any other ambassador,
he was cold and distant with both the Emperor and the court. At last
there was positive disagreement between him and the great personages
of the capital; there was even a rumor that Ney and he would fight a
duel. The offensive remarks which led to such tension were due to a
statement by Tolstoi that Russia had been beaten by accident, that
Russian soldiers were invincible, and might one day take their
revenge.
Moreover, the ambassador could not even get on with Napoleon. Both he
and his staff avoided the splendors of Fontainebleau, preferring to
frequent the drawing-rooms of a notorious actress whose name had often
been linked with that of the Emperor. Under such circumstances
diplomacy gathered but little fruit. Napoleon offered both the
Danubian provinces for Silesia, or else the evacuation of Prussia
proper for that of Wallachia; he even mentioned the magic word
"Constantinople" as part of Russia's share in an eventual partition of
the whole Turkish empire. Tolstoi wrote to St. Petersburg that France
was postponing the evacuation of Prussia for selfish purposes, meaning
to dismember her; and from that starting-point depicted the horrors of
a Napoleonic Europe. Such opinions dismayed Alexander, and although he
received Caulaincourt with distinction equal to that which had been
accorded to Tolstoi, he firmly refused the bargain offered by him. He
would not consent to a further dismemberment of Prussia, partly for
sentimental reasons, chiefly because he could not endure the
strengthening of the grand duchy of Warsaw, the new political organism
which suggested the restoration of Poland. As to the principalities,
these he would have. Russian society had for the moment repressed
its hostility to the Czar and his treaty of Tilsit, and was quietly
waiting to see what would be the substantial results. No gain less
than the acquisition of Wallachia and Moldavia would reinstate
Alexander in their good will or make the French alliance endurable.
This was of course a serious crisis; but Caulaincourt, nothing
dismayed, set himself, by the exercise of all those social arts of
which he had such a mastery, to win the aristocratic circles of St.
Petersburg.
In the month of December, 1807, Napoleon was on a royal progress
through his kingdom of Italy, and the news of the diplomatic crisis in
Russia reached him at Venice, which had become his as a result of
Austerlitz and by the treaty of Presburg. Although he had gone thither
for a serious consultation with Joseph, its fascinations were already
weaving curious plans in the Emperor's mind. His rapid journey through
Lombardy and a short visit to Milan, whence he fulminated his reply to
the English admiralty, had convinced him of the firm sovereignty he
exercised throughout these splendid realms. In the few days of his
presence he had further strengthened his power by many generous and
beneficent decrees. It was with a sense of security that he came to
Venice; at once he yielded to her spell, realizing that at last his
control of the Adriatic was complete, inasmuch as now he held both
shores and commanded the entrance by the possession of Corfu. Just
beyond was the brilliant East, ripe for conquest. Could he or should
he lose the opportunity to use such a superb base of operations, win
the gratitude of all Venetia by restoring the ancient glories of her
capital, and thereby lay his hand at last on the bauble which had once
before so dazzled him? Besides, Great Britain, his hated rival,
scorning the terms he had offered, disdaining the continental
blockade, anchored in her strength by the control of Western seas,
was vulnerable in India, and there alone. These considerations
returned with overpowering allurement to his imagination, and four
millions of francs were appropriated to improve the harbor and restore
somewhat the splendors of Venice.
New Year's day found the Emperor again at the Tuileries, in time to
receive a new courier from Russia with still more vigorous
representations of Alexander's desires. The idea of a general
partition of Turkish lands grew stronger, and in an interview with
Metternich, Napoleon hinted that Austria should have a share.
Instructions were sent to Caulaincourt that he should hold out hopes
in order to gain time and to learn whether it was definitely
impossible that matters should remain as the treaty of Tilsit, taken
literally, had arranged them. This procrastinating attitude of mind
had a twofold cause. One appears to have been a gradual realization in
Napoleon's consciousness that dreams and schemes must materialize,
that in the mystery of a life like his one step inevitably leads to
another, that his career must encircle the vast globe, while he
himself was but mortal, finite, and already verging to the utmost
limit of his powers. A year before he had written to Josephine that he
was of all men the most enslaved; "my master has no bowels, and that
master is the nature of things." The other cause was the fearless and
warlike attitude taken in Great Britain by both crown and Parliament
and announced with threats of eternal war at the opening of the
legislative session of 1807. It appears probable, likewise, that
whatever answer should be given by Alexander to his pregnant question,
he felt his only safety now to be in the alliance with the Czar.
Time, time, time--that was the prime necessity; there were only
twenty-four hours in the day, and only a certain quantity of nerve
force in his own system. Before the partition of Turkey, if
Alexander's reply should make it inevitable, two weighty matters must
be settled: first, the road to an Oriental empire must be secured; and
second, the already existing Western empire of Europe must be rounded
out by the "regulation" of Spanish affairs--the appropriation, if it
should seem best, of the whole Iberian peninsula. Any tyro in
geography could see by a glance at the map that as navigation was in
those days--that is, by the propulsion of fickle winds amid the partly
known currents of ocean and sea--the command of Gibraltar and Malta
meant the control of the Levant, and the British held both places.
With Spain in French hands, Gibraltar eventually might be taken, but
the case of Malta was far different. In the possession of a seafaring
nation like the English the island was impregnable. But was this in
reality the only outlet for the French empire to the East? From France
proper, yes; but from Italy, by the Adriatic, there was an admirable
alternative, if not, indeed, the only true line of trade.
Since the first awakening of his ambition, Napoleon had dreamed of
supremacy in the Mediterranean, and every successive treaty made with
Northern powers had looked to some strengthening of French influence
on that sea. Now at last he had Corfu, and the English, straitened for
troops, were withdrawing the forces which occupied Sicily to send them
into Portugal. The squadrons from Brest, Lorient, and Rochefort were
at once ordered to unite in the Mediterranean. This was the moment to
seize Sicily, and with that island added to Corfu, France would
control the best road into Egypt. But the hostile fate which seemed to
attend all Napoleon's undertakings by sea again checkmated him.
English cruisers were found hovering about Corfu, and the landing in
Sicily was temporarily abandoned in order to sweep the English from
the waters of the Ionian Isles. In the event of success, the invasion
of Turkey, the seizure of Egypt, and the gratification of Alexander
would be easy. More remotely, the deadly blow at England could be
struck in Asia. What a conception! What a debauch of the imagination!
But there was one specter which, though laid for intervals, would not
entirely down, and returned with stolid persistency: the existence of
the Western empire hung on the thread of a single life; the very
crowns of France and Italy had no heir. The situation was much
discussed in court circles, sometimes even among the people, and was
becoming acute. In order to solve the problem peace was essential, and
not a remote, but an immediate one, if possible. The Russian
ambassador, returning from London, had reported on his journey through
France that the English were not so envenomed as they seemed. It was
only a straw, yet it was talked of. At once Napoleon seized it, and
announced that his one aim, his most ardently desired goal,
was--peace.
It was now the close of January; Tolstoi was invited to join a
hunting-party, and in the heart of the forest Napoleon found means to
be alone with him. After a long, vague, contradictory, but dramatic
conversation setting forth the same three alternatives,--peace between
Russia and Turkey without the principalities, or the principalities in
exchange for Silesia, or the ultimate but not immediate partition of
Turkey,--the great actor suddenly paused as if in an ecstasy of
sincerity, and snatching his hat off his head with both hands, flung
it on the ground as he said: "Hark you, M. Tolstoi; it is not the
Emperor of the French, but an old general of division that is now
talking to another. May I be thought the vilest of men if I do not
scrupulously fulfil the contract I made at Tilsit, and if I do not
evacuate both Prussia and the duchy of Warsaw as soon as you have
withdrawn your troops from Moldavia and Wallachia! I am neither a fool
nor a child, not to know what I stipulate, and what I stipulate I
always fulfil." Leaving this objurgation time to work its effect, the
Emperor of the French a few days later--on February second--wrote with
his own hand to the Emperor of all the Russias. It was an innocent and
kindly epistle, advising his friend to strengthen his army, and
promising all aid possible in case he should feel that the border-line
of Sweden was too near St. Petersburg. An army of fifty thousand men,
Russian, French, perhaps a "little Austrian," marching into Asia by
way of Constantinople, would not reach the Euphrates before England
would begin to tremble. "I am strong in Dalmatia, you on the Danube.
One month after an agreement we could be on the Bosporus. But our
mutual interests require to be combined and equalized in a personal
conference. Tolstoi is not built on the proportions of Tilsit. We
could have everything ready, you and I, or perhaps Caulaincourt and
Rumianzoff, before March fifteenth, and by May first our troops could
be in Asia at the moment when those of your Majesty were in Stockholm.
We would have preferred peace, you and I, but we must do what is
predestined, and follow whither the irresistible march of events
conducts us."
This letter was a masterpiece. It meant, first, a little European
war, short and sharp, whereby Russia would get Finland as a sop and
have her attention drawn off from Prussia and Spain; secondly, a
menace which would bring England to terms and produce a peace;
thirdly, the neutralization of Austria by inviting her to sit down at
the feast; lastly, the consolidation of Napoleon's dynasty for the
ultimate completion of his designs in the Orient either with or
without Russia's aid. The alternative would be a war of hitherto
unknown dimensions, including not only all Europe, but Asia Minor and
northern Africa; out of such a conflict might result a permanent order
the foundation and copestone of which would be French supremacy.
England would of course rush to the assistance of Sweden, the only
land now left in Europe that had never fallen into the orbit of the
French system. At that moment Spain and Portugal, abandoned to their
fate, must drop into French hands. If England should still prove
resolute, then an expedition to Egypt would sail from Corfu, while
simultaneously the united armies of Russia, France, and Austria would
march to the conquest of Turkey and the seizure of India. It was a
scheme so vast, so logical, so imperial, that it left far behind the
dreams of a Corsican patriot or the visions of an ardent Frenchman.
Successful as a soldier, the Emperor was carried by each new victory
into widening circles of enterprise which could have no relation to
narrow national limits.