TILSIT
Even now matters were not hopeless for the allies. Crowds of
stragglers rejoined the colours at Tilsit, and Tartar reinforcements
were near at hand. The gallant Gneisenau was still holding out bravely
at Kolberg against Brune's divisions; and two of the Silesian
fortresses had not yet surrendered. Moreover, Austria seemed about to
declare against Napoleon, and there were hopes that before long
England would do something. But, above all, since the war was for
Prussia solely an affair of honour,[134] it deeply concerned
Alexander's good name not to desert an ally to whom he was now pledged
by all the claims of chivalry until satisfactory terms could be
gained.
But Alexander's nature had not as yet been strengthened by misfortune
and religious convictions: it was a sunny background of flickering
enthusiasms, flecked now and again by shadows of eastern cunning or
darkened by warlike ambitions--a nature in which the sentimentalism of
Rousseau and the passions of a Boyar alternately gained the mastery.
No realism is more crude than that of the disillusionized idealist;
and for months the young Czar had seen his dream of a free and happy
Europe fade away amidst the smoke of Napoleon's guns and the mists of
English muddling. At first he blenched not even at the news of
Friedland. In an interview with our ambassador, Lord Gower, on June
the 17th, he bitterly upbraided him with our inactivity in the Baltic
and the Mediterranean, and the non-fulfilment of our promise of a
loan; as for himself, "he would never stoop to Bonaparte: he would
rather retire to Kazan or even to Tobolsk." But five days later,
acting under pressure from his despairing generals, some of whom
reminded him of his father's fate, he arranged an armistice with the
conqueror.[135] Five days only were allowed in which Prussia might
decide to follow his example or proceed with the war alone. She
accepted the inevitable on the following day.
The international situation was now strangely like that which followed
immediately upon the battle of Austerlitz. Then it was Prussia, now it
was Austria, that played the part of the cautious friend at the very
time when the beaten allies were meditating surrender. For some time
past the Court of Vienna had been offering its services for mediation:
they were well received at London, with open disappointment by
Prussia, and with ill-concealed annoyance by Napoleon. As at the time
when Haugwitz came to him to dictate Prussia's terms, so now the
Emperor kept the Austrian envoy waiting without an answer, until the
blow of Friedland was dealt.[136] Even then Austria seemed about to
enter the lists, when news arrived of the conclusion of the armistice
at Tilsit. This enabled her to sheathe her sword with no loss of
honour; but, as was the case with Prussia at the close of 1805, her
conduct was seen to be timid and time-serving; and it merited the
secret rebuke of Canning that she "was (as usual) just ten days too
late in her determination, or the world might have been saved."[137]
Whether Austria had been beguiled by the recent diplomatic caresses of
Napoleon may well be doubted; for they were obviously aimed at keeping
her quiet until he had settled scores with Prussia and Russia. His
advances only began on the eve of the last war, and the sharpness of
the transition from threats to endearments could not be smoothed over
even by Talleyrand's finesse.[138] When the slaughter at Eylau placed
him in peril, he again bade Talleyrand soothe the Austrian envoy with
assurances that, if his master was anxious to maintain the integrity
of Turkey, France would maintain it; or if he desired to share in an
eventual partition, France would also arrange that to his liking.[139]
But as the prospects for the campaign improved, Napoleon's tone
hardened. On March the 14th he states that he has enough men to keep
Austria quiet and to "get rid of the Russians in a month." And now he
looks on an alliance with the Hapsburgs merely as giving a short time
of quiet, whereas an alliance with Russia would be "very
advantageous."[140] He had also felt the value of alliance with
Prussia, as his repeated overtures during the campaign testify; but
when Frederick William persistently rejected all accommodation with
the man who had so deeply outraged his kingly honour, he turned
finally to Alexander.
The Czar was made of more pliable stuff. Moreover, he now cherished
one sentiment that brought him into sympathy with Napoleon, namely,
hatred of England. He certainly had grave cause for complaint. We had
done nothing to help the allies in the Polish campaign except to send
a few cruisers and 60,000 muskets, which last did not reach the
Swedish and Russian ports until the war was over. True, we had gone
out of our way to attack Constantinople at his request; but that
attack had failed; and our attitude towards his Turkish policy was one
of veiled suspicion, varied with moral lectures.[141] As for the loan
of five millions sterling which the Czar had asked us to guarantee, we
had put him off, our envoy finally reminding him that it had been of
the first importance to help Austria to move. Worst of all, our
cruisers had seized some Russian merchantmen coming out of French
ports, and despite protests from St. Petersburg the legality of that
seizure was maintained. Thus, in a war which concerned our very
existence we had not rendered him a single practical service, and yet
strained the principles of maritime law at the expense of Russian
commerce.[142]
Over against our policy of blundering delay there was that of
Napoleon, prompt, keen, and ever victorious. The whole war had arisen
out of the conflict of these two Powers; and Napoleon had never ceased
to declare that it was essentially a struggle between England and the
Continent. After Eylau Alexander was proof against these arguments;
but now the triumphant energy of Napoleon and the stolid apathy of
England brought about a quite bewildering change in Russian policy.
Delicate advances having been made by the two Emperors, an interview
was arranged to take place on a raft moored in the middle of the River
Niemen (June 25th).
"I hate the English as much as you do, and I will second you in all
your actions against them." Such are said to have been the words with
which Alexander greeted Napoleon as they stepped on to the raft.
Whereupon the conqueror replied: "In that case all can be arranged and
peace is made."[143] As the two Emperors were unaccompanied at that
first interview, it is difficult to see on what evidence this story
rests. It is most unlikely that either Emperor would divulge the
remarks of the other on that occasion; and the words attributed to
Alexander seem highly impolitic. For what was his position at this
time? He was striving to make the best of a bad case against an
opponent whose genius he secretly feared. Besides, we know for certain
that he was most anxious to postpone his rupture with England for some
months.[144] All desire for an immediate break was on Napoleon's side.
We can therefore only guess at what transpired, from the vague
descriptions of the two men themselves. They are characteristic
enough: "I never had more prejudices against anyone than against
_him_," said Alexander afterwards; "but, after three-quarters of an
hour of conversation, they all disappeared like a dream"; and later he
exclaimed: "Would that I had seen him sooner: the veil is torn aside
and the time of error is past." As for Napoleon, he wrote to
Josephine: "I have just seen the Emperor Alexander: I have been very
pleased with him: he is a very handsome, good, and young Emperor: he
has an intellect above what is commonly attributed to him."[145] The
tone of these remarks strikes the keynote of all the conversations
that followed. At the next day's conference, also held in the
sumptuous pavilion erected on the raft, the King of Prussia was
present; but towards him Napoleon's demeanour was cold and
threatening. He upbraided him with the war, lectured him on the duty
of a king to his people, and bade him dismiss Hardenberg. Frederick
William listened for the most part in silence; his nature was too
stiff and straightforward to practise any Byzantine arts; but when his
trusty Minister was attacked, he protested that he should not know how
to replace him. Napoleon had foreseen the plea and at once named three
men who would give better advice. Among them was the staunch patriot
Stein!
From the ensuing conferences the King was almost wholly excluded. They
were held in a part of the town of Tilsit which was neutralized for
that purpose, as also for the guards and diplomatists of the three
sovereigns. There, too, lived the two Emperors in closest intercourse,
while on most days the Prussian King rode over from a neighbouring
village to figure as a sad, reproachful guest at the rides, parades,
and dinners that cemented the new Franco-Russian alliance. Yet, amid
all the melodious raptures of Alexander over Napoleon's newly
discovered virtues, it is easy to detect the clinging ground-tone of
Muscovite ambition. An event had occurred which excited the hopes of
both Emperors. At the close of May, the Sultan Selim was violently
deposed by the Janissaries who clamoured for more vigorous measures
against the Russians. Never did news come more opportunely for
Napoleon than this, which reached him at Tilsit on, or before, June
the 24th. He is said to have exclaimed to the Czar with a flash of
dramatic fatalism: "It is a decree of Providence which tells me that
the Turkish Empire can no longer exist."[146]
Certain it is that the most potent spell exerted by the great
conqueror over his rival was a guarded invitation to share in some
future partition of the Turkish Empire. That scheme had fascinated
Napoleon ever since the year 1797, when he gazed on the Adriatic.
Though laid aside for a time in 1806, when he roused the Turks against
Russia, it was never lost sight of; and now, on the basis of a common
hatred of England and a common desire to secure the spoils of the
Ottoman Power, the stately fabric of the Franco-Russian alliance was
reared.
On his side, Alexander required some assurance that Poland should not
be reconstituted in its integrity--a change that would tear from
Russia the huge districts stretching almost up to Riga, Smolensk, and
Kiev, which were still Polish in sympathy. Here Napoleon reassured
him, at least in part. He would not re-create the great kingdom of
Poland: he would merely carve out from Prussia the greater part of her
Polish possessions.
These two important questions being settled, it only remained for the
Czar to plead for the King of Prussia, to acknowledge Napoleon's
domination as Emperor of the West, while he himself, as autocrat of
the East, secured a better western boundary for Russia. At first he
strove to gain for Frederick William the restoration of several of his
lands west of the Elbe. This championship was not wholly
disinterested; for it is now known that the Czar had set his heart on
a great part of Prussian Poland.
In truth, he was a sufficiently good disciple of the French
revolutionists to plead very cogently his claims to a "natural
frontier." He disliked a "dry frontier": he must have a riverine
boundary: in fact, he claimed the banks of the Lower Niemen, and,
further south, the course of the rivers Wavre, Narew and Bug. To this
claim he had perhaps been encouraged by some alluring words of
Napoleon that thenceforth the Vistula must be the boundary of their
empires. But his ally was now determined to keep Russia away from the
old Polish capital; and in strangely prophetic words he pointed out
that the Czar's claims would bring the Russian eagles within sight of
Warsaw, which would be too clear a sign that that city was destined to
pass under the Russian rule.[147] Divining also that Alexander's plea
for the restoration by France of some of Prussia's western lands was
linked with a plan which would give Russia some of her eastern
districts,[148] Napoleon resolved to press hard on Prussia from the
west. While handing over to the Czar only the small district around
Bialystock, he remorselessly thrust Prussia to the east of the Elbe.
From this neither the arguments of the Czar nor the entreaties of
Queen Louisa availed to move him. And yet, in the fond hope that her
tears might win back Magdeburg, that noble bulwark of North German
independence, the forlorn Queen came to Tilsit to crave this boon
(July 6th). It was a terrible ordeal to do this from the man who had
repeatedly insulted her in his official journals, figuring her, first
as a mailed Amazon galloping at the head of her regiment, and finally
breathing forth scandals on her spotless reputation.
Yet, for the sake of her husband and her people, she braced herself up
to the effort of treating him as a gentleman and appealing to his
generosity. If she was able to conceal her loathing, this was scarcely
so with her devoted lady in waiting, the Countess von Voss, who has
left us an acrid account of Napoleon's visit to the Queen at the
miller's house at Tilsit.[149]
"He is excessively ugly, with a fat swollen sallow face, very
corpulent, besides short and entirely without figure. His great
eyes roll gloomily around; the expression of his features is
severe; he looks like the incarnation of fate: only his mouth is
well shaped, and his teeth are good. He was extremely polite,
talked to the Queen a long time alone.... Again, after dinner, he
had a long conversation with the Queen, who also seemed pretty
well satisfied with the result."[150]
Queen Louisa's verdict about his appearance was more favourable; she
admired his head "as that of a Cæsar." With winsome boldness inspired
by patriotism, she begged for Magdeburg. Taken aback by her beauty and
frankness, Napoleon had recourse to compliments about her dress. "Are
we to talk about fashion, at such a time?" was her reply. Again she
pleaded, and again he fell back on vapidities. Nevertheless, her
appeals to his generosity seemed to be thawing his statecraft, when
the entrance of that unlucky man, her husband, gave the conversation a
colder tone. The dinner, however, passed cheerfully enough; and,
according to French accounts, Napoleon graced the conclusion of
dessert by offering her a rose. Her woman's wit flew to the utterance:
"May I consider it a token of friendship, and that you grant my
request for Magdeburg?" But he was on his guard, parried her onset
with a general remark as to the way in which such civilities should be
taken, and turned the conversation. Then, as if he feared the result
of a second interview, he hastened to end matters with the Prussian
negotiators.[151]
He thus described the interview in a letter to Josephine:
"I have had to be on my guard against her efforts to oblige me to
some concessions for her husband; but I have been gallant, and
have held to my policy."
This was only too clear on the following day, when the Queen again
dined with the sovereigns.
"Napoleon," says the Countess von Voss, "seemed malicious and
spiteful, and the conversation was brief and constrained. After
dinner the Queen again conversed apart with him. On taking leave
she said to him that she went away feeling it deeply that he
should have deceived her. My poor Queen: she is quite in despair."
When conducted to her carriage by Talleyrand and Duroc, she sank down
overcome by emotion. Yet, amid her tears and humiliation, the old
Prussian pride had flashed forth in one of her replies as the rainbow
amidst the rain-storm. When Napoleon expressed his surprise that she
should have dared to make war on him with means so utterly inadequate,
she at once retorted: "Sire, I must confess to Your Majesty, the glory
of Frederick the Great had misled us as to our real strength"--a
retort which justly won the praise of that fastidious connoisseur,
Talleyrand, for its reminder of Prussia's former greatness and the
transitoriness of all human grandeur.[152]
On that same day (July 7th) the Treaty of Tilsit was signed. Its terms
may be thus summarized. Out of regard for the Emperor of Russia,
Napoleon consented to restore to the King of Prussia the province of
Silesia, and the old Prussian lands between the Elbe and Niemen. But
the Polish lands seized by Prussia in the second and third partitions
were (with the exception of the Bialystock district, now gained by
Russia) to form a new State called the Duchy of Warsaw. Of this duchy
the King of Saxony was constituted ruler. Danzig, once a Polish city,
was now declared a free city under the protection of the Kings of
Prussia and Saxony, but the retention there of a French garrison until
the peace made it practically a French fortress. Saxe-Coburg,
Oldenburg, and Mecklenburg-Schwerin were restored to their dukes, but
the two last were to be held by French troops until England made peace
with France. With this aim in view, Napoleon accepted Alexander's
mediation for the conclusion of a treaty of peace with England,
provided that she accepted that mediation within one month of the
ratification of the present treaty.
On his side, the Czar now recognized the recent changes in Naples,
Holland, and Germany; among the last of these was the creation of the
Kingdom of Westphalia for Jerome Bonaparte out of the Prussian lands
west of the Elbe, the Duchy of Brunswick, and the Electorate of
Hesse-Cassel. Holland gained East Frisia at the expense of Prussia. As
regards Turkey, the Czar pledged himself to cease hostilities at once,
to accept the mediation of Napoleon in the present dispute, and to
withdraw Russian troops from the Danubian Provinces as soon as peace
was concluded with the Sublime Porte. Finally, the two Emperors
mutually guaranteed the integrity of their possessions and placed
their ceremonial and diplomatic relations on a footing of complete
equality.
Such were the published articles of the Treaty of Tilsit. Even if this
had been all, the European system would have sustained the severest
blow since the Thirty Years' War. The Prussian monarchy was suddenly
bereft of half its population, and now figured on the map as a
disjointed land, scarcely larger than the possessions of the King of
Saxony, and less defensible than Jerome Bonaparte's Kingdom of
Westphalia; while the Confederation of the Rhine, soon to be
aggrandized by the accession of Mecklenburg and Oldenburg, seemed to
doom the House of Hohenzollern to lasting insignificance.[153]
But the published treaty was by no means all. There were also secret
articles, the chief of which were that the Cattaro district--to the
west of Montenegro--and the Ionian Islands should go to France, and
that the Czar would recognize Joseph Bonaparte as King of Sicily when
Ferdinand of Naples should have received "an indemnity such as the
Balearic Isles, or Crete, or their equivalent." Also, if Hanover
should eventually be annexed to the Kingdom of Westphalia, a
Westphalian district with a population of from three to four hundred
thousand souls would be retroceded to Prussia. Finally, the chiefs of
the Houses of Orange-Nassau, Hesse-Cassel, and Brunswick were to
receive pensions from Murat and Jerome Bonaparte, who dispossessed
them.
Most important of all was the secret treaty of alliance with Russia,
also signed on July 7th, whereby the two Emperors bound themselves to
make common cause in any war that either of them might undertake
against any European Power, employing, if need be, the whole of their
respective forces. Again, if England did not accept the Czar's
mediation, or if she did not, by the 1st of December, 1807, recognize
the perfect equality of all flags at sea, and restore her conquests
made from France and her allies since 1805, then Russia would make war
on her. In that case, the present allies will "summon the three Courts
of Copenhagen, Stockholm, and Lisbon to close their ports against the
English and declare war against England. If any one of the three
Courts refuse, it shall be treated as an enemy by the high contracting
parties, and if Sweden refuse, _Denmark shall be compelled to declare
war on her_." Pressure would also be put on Austria to follow the same
course. But if England made peace betimes, she might recover Hanover,
on restoring her conquests in the French, Spanish, and Dutch colonies.
Similarly, if Turkey refused the mediation of Napoleon, he would in
that case help Russia to drive the Turks from Europe--"the city of
Constantinople and the province of Roumelia alone excepted."[154]
The naming of the city of Constantinople, which is in Roumelia,
betokens a superfluity of prudence. But it helps to confirm the
statement of Napoleon's secretary, M. Méneval, that the future of that
city led to a decided difference of opinion between the Emperors.
After one of their discussions, Napoleon stayed poring over a map, and
finally exclaimed, "Constantinople! Never! It is the empire of the
world." Doubtless it was on this subject that Alexander cherished some
secret annoyance. Certain it is that, despite all his professions of
devotion to Napoleon, he went back to St. Petersburg ill at ease and
possessed with a certain awe of the conqueror. For what had he gained?
He received a small slice of Prussian Poland, and the prospect of
aggrandizement on the side of Turkey and Sweden, Finland being pointed
out as an easy prey. For these future gains he was to close his ports
to England and see his commerce, his navy, and his seaboard suffer. It
is not surprising that before leaving Tilsit he remarked to Frederick
William that "the most onerous condition imposed by Napoleon was
common to Russia and Prussia."[155]
This refers to the compulsion put upon them to join Napoleon's
Continental System. In the treaty signed with Prussia on July 9th,
Napoleon not only wrested away half her lands, but required the
immediate closing of all her ports to British vessels. We may also
note here that, by the extraordinary negligence of the Prussian
negotiator, Marshal Kalckreuth, the subsequent convention as to the
evacuation of Prussia by the French troops left open a loophole for
its indefinite occupation. Each province or district was to be
evacuated when the French requisitions had been satisfied.[156] The
exaction of impossible sums would therefore enable the conquerors,
quite legally, to keep their locust swarms in that miserable land. And
that was the policy pursued for sixteen months.
Why this refinement of cruelty to his former ally? Why not have
annexed Prussia outright? Probably there were two reasons against
annexation: first, that his army could live on her in a way that would
not be possible with his own subjects or allies; second, that the army
of occupation would serve as a guarantee both for Russia's good faith
and for the absolute exclusion of British goods from Prussia.[157]
This had long been his aim. He now attained it, but only by war that
bequeathed a legacy of war, and a peace that was no peace.
Napoleon's behaviour at Tilsit has generally been regarded, at least
in England, as prompted by an insane lust of power; and the treaty has
been judged as if its aim was the domination of the Continent. But
another explanation, though less sweeping and attractive, seems more
consonant with the facts of the case.
He hoped that, before so mighty a confederacy as was framed at Tilsit,
England would bend the knee, give up not only her maritime claims but
her colonial conquests, and humbly take rank with Powers that had
lived their day. The conqueror who had thrice crumpled up the Hapsburg
States, and shattered Prussia in a day, might well believe that the
men of Downing Street, expert only in missing opportunities and
exasperating their friends, would not dare to defy the forces of
united Europe, but would bow before his prowess and grant peace to a
weary world. In his letter of July 6th, 1807, to the Czar, he advised
the postponement of the final summons to the British Government,
because it would "give five months in which the first exasperation
will die down in England, and she will have time to understand the
immense consequences that would result from so imprudent a struggle."
Neither Napoleon nor Alexander was deaf to generous aspirations. They
both desired peace, so that their empires might expand and
consolidate. Above all, France was weary of war; and by peace the
average Frenchman meant, not respite from Continental strifes that
yielded a surfeit of barren glories, but peace with England. The words
of Lucchesini, the former Prussian ambassador in Paris, on this
subject are worth quoting:
"The war with England was at bottom the only one in which the
French public took much interest, since the evils it inflicted on
France were felt every moment: nothing was spoken of so decidedly
among all classes of the people as the wish to have done with that
war; and when one spoke of peace at Paris, one always meant peace
with England: peace with the others was as indifferent to the
public as the victories or the conquests of Bonaparte."[158]
If the French middle classes longed for a maritime peace so that
coffee and sugar might become reasonably cheap, how much more would
their ruler, whose heart was set on colonies and a realm in the
Orient? In Poland he had cheered his troops with the thought that they
were winning back the French colonial empire; and, as we have seen, he
was even then preparing the ground in Persia for a future invasion of
India. These plans could only be carried out after a time of peace
that should rehabilitate the French navy. Humanitarian sentiment,
patriotism, and even the promptings of a wider ambition, therefore
bade him strive for a general pacification, such as he seemed to have
assured at Tilsit.
But the means which he adopted were just those that were destined to
defeat this aim. Where he sought to intimidate, he only aroused a more
stubborn resistance: where he should have allayed national fears, he
redoubled them. He did not understand our people: he saw not that,
behind our official sluggishness and muddling, there was a quenchless
national vitality, which, if directed by a genius, could defy a
world-wide combination. If, instead of making secret compacts with the
Czar and trampling on Prussia; if, instead of intriguing with the
Sultan and the Shah, and thus reawakening our fears respecting Egypt
and India, he had called a Congress and submitted all the present
disputes to general discussion, there is reason to think that Great
Britain would have received his overtures. George III.'s Ministers had
favoured the proposal of a Congress when put forward by Austria in the
spring;[159] and they would doubtless have welcomed it from Napoleon
after Friedland, had they not known of far-reaching plans which
rendered peace more risky than open war. This great genius had, in
fact, one fatal defect; he had little faith except in outward
compulsion; and his superabundant energy of menace against England
blighted the hopes of peace which he undoubtedly cherished.
Long before Alexander's offer of mediation was forwarded to London,
our Ministers had taken a sudden and desperate resolution. They
determined to compel Denmark to join England and Sweden, and to hold
the fleet at Copenhagen as a gauge of Danish fidelity.
That momentous resolve was formed on or just before July the 16th, in
consequence of news that had arrived from Memel and Tilsit. The exact
purport of that news, and the manner of its acquisition, have been one
of the puzzles of modern history. But the following facts seem to
furnish a solution. Our Foreign Office Records show that our agent at
Tilsit, Mr. Mackenzie, who was on confidential terms with General
Bennigsen, left post haste for England immediately after the first
imperial interview; and the news which he brought, together with
reports of the threatening moves of the French on Holstein, clinched
the determination of our Government to checkmate the Franco-Russian
aims by bringing strong pressure to bear on Denmark. To keep open the
mouth of the Baltic was an urgent necessity, otherwise we should lose
touch with the Anglo-Swedish forces campaigning against the French
near Stralsund.[160] Furthermore, it should be noted that Denmark held
the balance in naval affairs. France and her allies now had fifty-nine
sail of the line ready for sea: the compact with the Czar would give
her twenty-four more; and if Napoleon seized the eighteen Danish and
nine Portuguese battleships, his fighting strength would be nearly
equal to our own.[161] Canning therefore determined, on July 16th, to
compel Denmark to side with us, or at least to observe a neutrality
favourable to the British cause; and, to save her honour, he proposed
to send an irresistible naval force.
"Denmark's safety," he wrote on July 16th, "is to be found, under
the present circumstances of the world, only in a balance of
opposite dangers. For it is not to be disguised that the influence
which France has acquired from recent events over the North of
Europe, might, unless balanced by the naval power of Great
Britain, leave to Denmark no other option than that of compliance
with the demands of Bonaparte."[162]
_A balance of opposite dangers!_ In this phrase Canning summed up his
policy towards Denmark. Threatened by Napoleon on the land, she was to
be threatened by us from the sea; and Canning hoped that these
opposite forces would, at least, secure Danish neutrality, without
which Sweden must succumb in her struggle against France. That some
compulsion would be needed had long been clear. In fact, the use of
compulsion had first been recommended by the Russian and Prussian
Governments, which had gone so far as to include in the Treaty of
Bartenstein a proposal of common action, along with England, Austria
and Sweden, _to compel Denmark to side with the allies against
Napoleon_.[163] To this resolve England still clung, despite the
defection of the Czar. In truth, his present conduct made the case for
the coercion of Denmark infinitely more urgent.
As to the reality of Napoleon's designs on Denmark, there can be no
doubt. After his return to France, he wrote from St. Cloud, directing
Talleyrand to express his displeasure that Denmark had not fulfilled
her _promises_: "Whatever my desire to treat Denmark well, I cannot
hinder her suffering from having allowed the Baltic to be violated [by
the English expedition to Stralsund]; and, if England refuses Russia's
mediation, Denmark must choose either to make war against England, or
against me."[164] Whence it is clear that Denmark had given Napoleon
grounds for hoping that she would declare the Baltic a _mare clausum_.
The British Government had so far fathomed these designs as to see the
urgency of the danger. Accordingly it proposed to Denmark a secret
defensive alliance, the chief terms of which were the handing over of
the Danish fleet, to be kept as a "sacred pledge" by us till the
peace, a subsidy of £100,000 paid to Denmark for that fleet, and the
offer of armed assistance in case she should be attacked by France.
This offer of defensive alliance was repulsed, and the Danish Prince
Royal determined to resist even the mighty armada which was now
nearing his shores. Towards the close of August, eighty-eight British
ships were in the Sound and the Belt; and when the transports from
Rügen and Stralsund joined those from Yarmouth, as many as 15,400
troops were at hand, under the command of Lord Cathcart. A landing was
effected near Copenhagen, and offers of alliance were again made,
including the deposit of the Danish fleet; "but if this offer is
rejected now, it cannot be repeated. The captured property, public and
private, must then belong to the captors: and the city, when taken,
must share the fate of conquered places." The Danes stoutly repelled
offers and threats alike: the English batteries thereupon bombarded
the city until the gallant defenders capitulated (September 7th). The
conditions hastily concluded by our commanders were that the British
forces should occupy the citadel and dockyard for six weeks, should
take possession of the ships and naval stores, and thereupon evacuate
Zealand.
These terms were scrupulously carried out; and at the close of six
weeks our forces sailed away with the Danish fleet, including fifteen
sail of the line, fifteen frigates, and thirty-one small vessels. This
end to the expedition was keenly regretted by Canning. In a lengthy
Memorandum he left it on record that he desired, not merely Denmark's
fleet, but her alliance. In his view nothing could save Europe but a
firm Anglo-Scandinavian league, which would keep open the Baltic and
set bounds to the designs of the two Emperors. Only by such an
alliance could Sweden be saved from Russia and France. Indeed,
foreseeing the danger to Sweden from a French army acting from Zealand
as a base, Canning proposed to Gustavus that he should occupy that
island, or, failing that, receive succour from a British force on his
own shore of the Sound. But both offers were declined. The final
efforts made to draw Denmark into our alliance were equally futile,
and she kept up hostilities against us for nearly seven years. Thus
Canning's scheme of alliance with the Scandinavian States failed.
Britain gained, it is true, a further safeguard against invasion; but
our statesman, while blaming the precipitate action of our commanders
in insisting solely upon the surrender of the fleet, declared that
that action, apart from an Anglo-Danish alliance, was "an act of great
injustice."[165]
And as such it has been generally regarded, that is, by those who did
not, and could not, know the real state of the case. In one respect
our action was unpardonable: it was not the last desperate effort of a
long period of struggle: it came after a time of selfish torpor fatal
alike to our reputation and the interests of our allies. After
protesting their inability to help them, Ministers belied their own
words by the energy with which they acted against a small State. And
the prevalent opinion found expression in the protests uttered in
Parliament that it would have been better to face the whole might of
the French, Russian, and Danish navies than to emulate the conduct of
those who had overrun and despoiled Switzerland.
Moreover, our action did not benefit Sweden, but just the reverse.
Cathcart's force, that had been helping the Swedes in the defence of
their Pomeranian province, was withdrawn in order to strengthen our
hands against Copenhagen. Thereupon the gallant Gustavus, overborne by
the weight of Marshal Brune's corps, sued for an armistice. It was
granted only on the condition that Stralsund should pass into Brune's
hands (August 20th); and the Swedes, unable even to hold Rügen, were
forced to give up that island also. Sick in health and weary of a
world that his chivalrous instincts scorned, Gustavus withdrew his
forces into Sweden. Even there he was menaced. The hostilities which
Denmark forthwith commenced against England and Sweden exposed his
southern coasts; but he now chose to lean on the valour of his own
subjects rather than on the broken reed of British assistance, and
awaited the attacks of the Danes on the west and of the Russians on
his province of Finland.
The news from Copenhagen also furnished the Czar with a good excuse
for hostilities with England. For such an event he had hitherto been
by no means desirous. On his return from Tilsit to St. Petersburg he
found the nobility and merchants wholly opposed to a rupture with the
Sea Power, the former disdaining to clasp the hand of the conqueror of
Friedland, the latter foreseeing ruin from the adoption of the
Continental System; and when Napoleon sent Savary on a special mission
to the Czar's Court, the Empress-Mother and nobles alike showed their
abhorrence of "the executioner of the Duc d'Enghien." In vain were
imperial favours lavished on this envoy. He confessed to Napoleon that
only the Czar and the new Foreign Minister, Romantzoff, were
favourable to France; and it was soon obvious that their ardour for a
partition of Turkey must disturb the warily balancing policy which
Napoleon adopted as soon as the Czar's friendship seemed assured.
The dissolution of this artificial alliance was a task far beyond the
powers of British statesmanship. To Alexander's offer of mediation
between France and England Canning replied that we desired first to
know what were "the just and equitable terms on which France intended
to negotiate," and secondly what were the secret articles of the
Treaty of Tilsit. That there were such was obvious; for the published
treaty made no mention of the Kings of Sardinia and of the two
Sicilies, in whom Alexander had taken so deep an interest. But the
second request annoyed the Czar; and this feeling was intensified by
our action at Copenhagen. Yet, though he pronounced it an act of
"unheard-of violence," the Russian official notes to our Government
were so far reassuring that Lord Castlereagh was able to write to Lord
Cathcart (September 22nd): "Russia does not show any disposition to
resent or to complain of what we have done at Copenhagen.... The tone
of the Russian cabinet has become much more conciliatory to us since
they heard of your operations at Copenhagen."[166] It would seem,
however, that this double-dealing was prompted by naval
considerations. The Czar desired to temporize until his Mediterranean
squadron should gain a place of safety and his Baltic ports be encased
in ice; but on 27th October (8th November, N.S.) he broke off all
communications with us, and adopted the Continental System.
Meanwhile, at the other extremity of Europe, events were transpiring
that served as the best excuse for our harshness towards Denmark. Even
before our fleet sailed for the Sound, Napoleon was weaving his plans
for the destruction of Portugal. It is clear that he designed to
strike her first before taking any action against Denmark. During his
return journey from Tilsit to Paris, he directed Talleyrand to send
orders to Lisbon for the closing of all Portuguese ports against
British goods by September the 1st--"in default of which I declare war
on Portugal." He also ordered the massing of 20,000 French troops at
Bayonne in readiness to join the Spanish forces that were to threaten
the little kingdom.[167]
What crime had Portugal committed? She had of late been singularly
passive: anxiously she looked on at the gigantic strifes that were
engulfing the smaller States one by one. Her conduct towards Napoleon
had been far less provocative than that of Denmark towards England.
Threatened with partition by him and Spain in 1801, she had eagerly
snatched at peace, and on the rupture of the Peace of Amiens was fain
to purchase her neutrality at the cost of a heavy subsidy to France,
which she still paid in the hope of prolonging her "existence on
sufferance."[168] That hope now faded away.
As far back as February, 1806, Napoleon had lent a ready ear to the
plans which Godoy, the all-powerful Minister at Madrid, had proposed
for the partition of Portugal; and, in the month of July following,
Talleyrand held out to our plenipotentiary at Paris the threat that,
unless England speedily made peace with France, Napoleon would annex
Switzerland--"but still less can we alter, for any other
consideration, our intention of invading Portugal. The army destined
for that purpose is already assembling at Bayonne." A year's respite
was gained for the House of Braganza by the campaigns of Jena and
Friedland. But now, with the tenacity of his nature, the Emperor
returned to the plan, actually tried in 1801 and prepared for in 1806,
of crushing our faithful ally in order to compel us to make peace. On
this occasion he counted on certain success, as may be seen by the
following extract from the despatch of the Portuguese ambassador at
Paris to his Government:
"On Sunday afternoon [August 2nd] there was a diplomatic Levée.
The Emperor came up to me as I stood in the circle, and in a low
voice said: 'Have you written to your Court? Have you despatched a
courier with my final determination?'--I replied in the
affirmative.--'Very well,' said the Emperor, 'then by this time
your Court knows that she must break with England before the 1st
of September. It is the only way to accelerate peace.'--As the
place did not permit discussion on my part, I answered: 'I should
think, Sire, that England must now be sincerely anxious to make
peace.'--'Oh,' replied the Emperor, 'we are very certain of that:
however, in all cases, you must break either with England or
France before the 1st of September.'--He then turned about and
addressed himself to the Danish Minister, as far as I could judge
to the same purport."[169]
Equally confident is Napoleon's tone in the lately published letter of
September 7th:
"As soon as I received news of the English expedition against
Copenhagen,[170] I caused Portugal to be informed that all her
ports must be closed to England, and I massed an army of 40,000
men at Bayonne to join the Spaniards in enforcing this action, if
necessary. But a letter I have just received from the Prince
Regent [of Portugal] leads me to presume that this last measure
will not be necessary, that the Portuguese ports will be closed to
the English by the time this is read, and that Portugal will have
declared war against England. On the other hand, my flotilla will
be ready for action on 1st October, and I shall have a large army
at Boulogne, ready to attempt a _coup de main_ on England."
The letter concludes by ordering that all British diplomatists are to
be driven _out of Europe_, and that Sweden must make common cause with
France and Russia. Such were the means to be used for forcing
affrighted Peace again to visit this distracted earth.
In truth, the fate of the British race seemed for the time to hang
upon the events at Copenhagen and Lisbon. Very much depended on the
action of the Prince Regent of Portugal. Had he tamely submitted to
Napoleon's ukase and placed his fleet and his vast colonial empire at
the service of France, it is doubtful whether even the high-souled
Canning would not have stooped to surrender in face of odds so
overwhelming. The young statesman's anxiety as to the action of
Portugal is attested by many a long and minutely corrected despatch to
Viscount Strangford, our envoy at Lisbon. But, fortunately for us,
Napoleon committed the blunder which so often marred his plans: he
pushed them too far: he required the Prince Regent to adopt a course
of conduct repellent to an honourable man, namely, to confiscate the
merchandise and property of British merchants who had long trusted the
good faith of the House of Braganza. To this last demand the prince
opposed a dignified resistance, though on all other points he gave
way. This will appear from Lord Strangford's despatch of August 13th:
" ... The Portuguese Ministers place all their hopes of being able
to ward off this terrible blow in the certainty which they
entertain of England being obliged to enter into negotiations for
a general peace.... The very existence of the Portuguese Monarchy
depends on the celerity with which England shall meet the pacific
interference of the Emperor of Russia. The Prince Regent gives the
most solemn promise that he will not on any account consent to the
measure of confiscating the property of British subjects residing
under his protection. But I think that if France could be induced
to give up this point, and limit her demands to the exclusion of
British commerce from Portugal, the Government of this country
would accede to them...."
A week later he states that Portugal begged England to put up with a
temporary rupture, and reports that a quantity of diamonds had been
taken out of the Treasury and sent to Paris to be distributed in
presents to persons supposed to possess influence over the minds of
Bonaparte and Talleyrand. It would be interesting to trace the history
of these diamonds. But, as Napoleon had recently awarded sums
amounting in all to 26,582,000 francs from out of the estates
confiscated in Poland,[171] signs of sudden affluence were widespread
in Paris and rendered it difficult to detect the receivers of the
gems. Talleyrand was the usual recipient of such _douceurs_. But on
August the 14th he had retired from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs,
gaining the title of Vice Grand-Elector; and, if we are to be guided,
not by the statements of his personal foes, Hauterive and Pasquier,
but by the determination which he is known to have formed at Tilsit,
that he would not be "the executioner of Europe," we may judge that he
disapproved of the barbarous treatment meted out to Prussia and now
planned against Portugal.[172]
As has been stated above, the partition of this kingdom had been
planned by Godoy in concert with Napoleon early in 1806. That pampered
minion of the Spanish Court, angry at the shelving of plans which
promised to yield him a third of Portugal, called Spain to arms while
Napoleon was marching to Jena, an affront which the conqueror seemed
to overlook but never really forgave. Now, however, he appeared wholly
to enter into Godoy's scheme; and, while the Prince Regent of Portugal
was appealing to his pity, the Emperor (September 25th, 1807) charged
Duroc to confer with Godoy's confidential agent at Paris, Don
Izquierdo. " ...As for Portugal, I make no difficulty about granting to
the King of Spain a suzerainty over Portugal, and even taking part of
it away for the Queen of Etruria and the Prince of the Peace [Godoy]."
Duroc was also to point out the difficulty, now that "all Italy"
belonged to Napoleon, of allowing "that deformity," the kingdom of
Etruria, to disfigure the peninsula. The change would in fact, doubly
benefit the French Emperor. It would enable him completely to exclude
British commerce from the port of Leghorn, where it was trickling in
alarmingly, and also to place the mouths of the Tagus and Douro in the
hands of obedient vassals.
Such was the scheme in outline. Despite the offer of the Prince Regent
to obey all Napoleon's behests except that relating to the seizure of
British subjects and their property, war was irrevocably resolved on
by October the 12th.[173] And on October the 27th a secret convention
was signed at the Palace of Fontainebleau for arranging "the future
lot of Portugal by a healthy policy and conformably to the interests
of France and Spain." Portugal was now to be divided into three very
unequal parts: the largest portion, comprising Estremadura, Beira, and
Tras-os Montes, was reserved for a future arrangement at the general
peace, but meanwhile was to be held by France: Algarve and Alemtejo
were handed over to Godoy; while the diminutive province of Entre
Minho e Douro was flung as a sop to the young King of Etruria and his
mother, a princess of the House of Spain, to console them for the loss
of Etruria. A vague promise was made that the House of Braganza might
be reinstated in the first of these three portions, in case England
restored Gibraltar, Trinidad, and other colonies taken by her from
Spain or her allies; and Napoleon guaranteed to the King of Spain his
possessions in Europe, exclusive of the Balearic Isles, offering also
to recognize him as Emperor of the Two Americas.
Meanwhile Junot was leading his army corps from Bayonne towards
Salamanca and Ciudad Rodrigo, to give effect to this healthful
arrangement. This general, whom it was desirable to remove from Paris
on account of his rather too open _liaison_ with one of the Bonaparte
princesses, was urged to the utmost speed and address by the Emperor.
He must cover the whole 200 leagues in thirty-five days; lack of
provisions must not hinder the march, for "20,000 men can live
anywhere, even in a desert"; and, above all, as the Prince Regent had
again offered to declare war on England, he (Junot) could represent
that he came as an ally: "I have already informed you that my
intention in authorizing you to enter that land as an ally was to
enable you to seize its fleet, but that my mind was fully made up to
take possession of Portugal."[174] Lisbon, in fact, was to be served
as Venice was ten years before, the lion donning the skin of the fox
so as to effect a peaceful seizure. But that ruse could hardly succeed
twice. The Prince Regent had his ships ready for flight. The bluff and
headstrong Junot, nicknamed "the tempest" by the army, was too artless
to catch the prince by guile; but he hurried his soldiers over
mountains and through flooded gorges until, on November 30th, 1,500
tattered, shoeless, famished grenadiers straggled into Lisbon--to find
that the royal quarry had flown.
The Prince Regent took this momentous resolve with the utmost
reluctance. For many weeks he had clung to the hope that Napoleon
would spare him; and though he accepted a convention with England,
whereby he gained the convoy of our men-of-war across the Atlantic and
the promise of aggrandizement in South America, he still continued to
temporize, and that too, when a British fleet was at hand in the Tagus
strong enough to thwart the designs of the Russian squadron there
present to prevent his departure. When the French were within two
days' march of Lisbon, Lord Strangford feared that the Portuguese
fleet would be delivered into their hands; and only after a trenchant
declaration that further vacillation would be taken as a sign of
hostility to Great Britain, did the Prince Regent resolve to seek
beyond the seas the independence which was denied to him in his own
realm.[175]
Few scenes are more pathetic than the departure of the House of
Braganza from the cradle of its birth. Love for the Prince Regent as a
man, mingled with pity for the demented Queen, held the populace of
Lisbon in tearful silence as the royal family and courtiers filed
along the quays, followed by agonized groups of those who had decided
to share their trials. But silence gave way to wails of despair as the
exiles embarked on the heaving estuary and severed the last links with
Europe. Slowly the fleet began to beat down the river in the teeth of
an Atlantic gale. Near the mouth the refugees were received with a
royal salute by the British fleet, and under its convoy they breasted
the waves of the ocean and the perils of the future.
The conduct of England towards Denmark and that of Napoleon towards
Portugal call for a brief comparison. Those small kingdoms were the
victims of two powerful States whose real or fancied interests
prompted them to the domination of the land and of the sea. But when
we compare the actions of the two Great Powers, important differences
begin to reveal themselves. England had far more cause for complaint
against Denmark than Napoleon had against Portugal. The hostility of
the Danes to the recent coalition was notorious. To compel them to
change their policy without loss of national honour, we sent the most
powerful armada that had ever left our shores, with offers of alliance
and a demand that their fleet, the main object of Napoleon's designs,
should be delivered up to be held in deposit. The offer was refused,
and we seized the fleet. The act was brutal, but it was at least open
and above board, and the capitulation of September 7th was
scrupulously observed, even when the Danes prepared to renew
hostilities.
On the other hand, the demands of Napoleon on the Court of Lisbon were
such as no honourable prince could accept; they were relentlessly
pressed on in spite of the offer of the Prince Regent to meet him in
every particular save one; the appeals of the victim were deliberately
used by the aggressor to further his own rapacious designs; and the
enterprise fell short of ending in a massacre only because the glamour
of the French arms so dazzled the susceptible people of the south
that, for the present, they sank helplessly away at the sight of two
battalions of spectres. Finally, Portugal was partitioned--or rather
it was kept entirely by Napoleon; for, after the promises of partition
had done their work, the sleeping partners in the transaction were
quietly shelved, and it was then seen that Portugal had finally served
as the bait for ensnaring Spain. To this subject we shall return in
the next chapter.
In Italy also, the Juggernaut car of the Continental System rolled
over the small States. The Kingdom of Etruria, which in 1802 had
served as an easy means of buying the whole of Louisiana from the
Spanish Bourbons, was now wrested from that complaisant House, and in
December was annexed to the French Empire.
The Pope also passed under the yoke. For a long time the relations
between Pius VII. and Napoleon had been strained. Gentle as the
Pontiff was by nature, he had declined to exclude all British
merchandise from his States, or to accept an alliance with Eugène and
Joseph. He also angered Napoleon by persistently refusing to dissolve
the marriage of Jerome Buonaparte with Miss Paterson; and an
interesting correspondence ensued, culminating in a long diatribe
which Eugène was charged to forward to the Vatican as an extract from
a private letter of Napoleon to himself.[176] Pius VII. was to be
privately warned that Napoleon had done more good to religion than the
Pope had done harm. Christ had said that His Kingdom was not of this
world. Why then did the Pope set himself above Christ? Why did he
refuse to render to Cæsar that which was Cæsar's?--A fortnight later
the Emperor advised Eugène to despatch troops in the direction of
Bologna--"and if the Pope commits an imprudence, it will be a fine
opportunity for depriving him of the Roman States."
No imprudence was committed. Yet, in the following January, Napoleon
ordered his troops to occupy Rome, alleging that the Eternal City was
a hotbed of intrigues fomented by England and the ex-Queen of Naples,
that Neapolitan rebels had sought an asylum in the Papal States, and
that, though he had no wish to deprive the Pope of his territories,
yet he must include him in his "system." When Pius VII. refused to
commit himself to a policy which would involve war with England,
Napoleon ordered that his lands east of the Apennines should be
annexed to the Kingdom of Italy (April 2nd, 1808). Napoleon thus
gained complete control over the Adriatic coasts, which, along with
the island of Corfu, had long engaged his most earnest attention.[177]
True to his aim of forcing or enticing all maritime States into a
mighty confederacy for the humiliation of England, Napoleon had given
most heed to lands possessing extensive seaboards. Northern Italy,
Holland, Naples, North Germany, Prussia, Russia, Portugal, Spain,
Denmark, and Central Italy had, in turn, adopted his system. On
Austria he exerted a less imperious pressure; for her coast-line of
Trieste and Croatia was so easily controlled by his Italian and
Dalmatian territories that English merchandise with difficulty found
admittance. Yet, in order to carry out there also his policy of
"Thorough," he brought the arguments of Paris and St. Petersburg to
bear on the Court of Vienna; and on February 18th, 1808, Austria was
enrolled in a league that might well be called continental; for in the
spring of that year it embraced every land save Sweden and Turkey.
His activity at this time almost passes belief. While he fastened his
grip on the Continent, gallicized the institutions of Italy and
Germany, and almost daily instructed his brothers in the essentials of
successful statecraft, he found time to turn his thoughts once more to
the East, and to mark every device of England for lengthening her
lease of life. Noticing that we had annulled our blockade of the Elbe
and Weser, with the aim of getting our goods introduced there by
neutral ships, Napoleon charged his Finance Minister, Gaudin, to
prepare a decree for pressing hard on neutrals who had touched at any
of our ports or carried wares that could be proved to be of British
origin.[178]
He was perfectly correct in his surmise that English goods were about
to be sent into the Continent extensively on neutral vessels. After
the consequences of the Treaty of Tilsit had been fully developed,
that was almost their only means of entry. "In August, September and
October, British commerce lay prostrate and motionless until a
protecting and self-defensive system was interposed by our Orders in
Council."[179] The first of these ordered reprisals against the new
Napoleonic States (November 4th): a week later came a second which
declared that, as the Orders of January had not induced the enemy to
relax his commercial hostilities, but these were now enforced with
increased rigour, any port whence the British flag was excluded would
be treated as if it were actually blockaded; that is, the principle of
the legality of a nominal blockade, abandoned in 1801, was now
reaffirmed. The carriage of hostile colonial products was likewise
prohibited to neutrals, though certain exceptions were allowed. Also
any neutral vessel carrying "certificates of origin"--a device for
distinguishing between British and neutral goods--was to be considered
a lawful prize of war. A third Order in Council of the same date
allowed goods to be imported into the United Kingdom from a hostile
port in neutral ships, subject to the ordinary duties, and bonding
facilities were granted for the re-exportation of such goods to any
friendly or neutral port.[180] These orders were designed to draw
neutral commerce through our ports, and to give secret facilities for
the carriage of our goods by neutrals, while pressing upon those that
obeyed Napoleon's system.
The harshest of them was that which encouraged the searching of
neutral vessels for certificates of origin--a measure as severe as the
confiscation of British property by Napoleon, which it was designed to
defeat. And we may note here that the friction resulting from our
Orders in Council and our enforcement of the right of search led to
the United States passing a Non-Intercourse Act (December 23rd, 1807)
that preluded active hostilities against us. It also led Napoleon to
confiscate all American ships in his harbours after April 17th, 1808.
The November Orders in Council soon drew a reply from Napoleon. He
heard of them during a progress through the north of Italy, and from
Milan he flung back his retort, the famous Milan Decrees of November
23rd and December 17th. He thereby declared every neutral ship, which
submitted to those orders, to be denationalized and good prize of war;
and the same doom was pronounced against every vessel sailing to or
from any port in the United Kingdom or its colonies or possessions.
But these measures were not to affect ships of those States that
compelled Great Britain to respect their flag. The islanders might
well be dismayed at the prospect of a seclusion which promised to
recall the Virgilian line:
"penitus toto divisos orbe Britannos."
Yet they resolved to pit the resources of the outer world against the
militarism of Napoleon; and, drawing the resources of the tropics to
the new power-looms of Lancashire and Yorkshire, they might well hope
to pour their unequalled goods into Europe from points of vantage such
as Sicily, Gibraltar, the Channel Islands, and Heligoland. There were
many Englishmen who believed that the November Orders in Council
brought nothing but harm to our cause. They argued that our
manufactured goods must find their way into the Continent in spite of
the Berlin Decrees; and they could point to the curious fact that
Bourrienne, Napoleon's agent at Hamburg, when charged to procure
50,000 overcoats for the French army during the Eylau campaign, was
obliged to buy them from England.[181]
The incident certainly proves the folly of the Continental System. And
if we had had to consult our manufacturing interests alone, a policy
of _laisser faire_ would doubtless have been the best. England,
however, prided herself on her merchant service: to that she looked as
the nursery for the royal navy: and the abandonment of the world's
carrying trade to neutrals would have seemed an act of high treason.
Her acts of retaliation against the Berlin Decrees and the policy of
Tilsit were harsh and high-handed. But they were adopted during a
pitiless commercial strife; and, in warfare of so novel and desperate
a kind, acts must unfortunately be judged by their efficacy to harm
the foe rather than by the standards of morality that hold good during
peace. Outwardly, it seemed as if England were doomed. She had lost
her allies and alienated the sympathies of neutrals. But from the sea
she was able to exert on the Napoleonic States a pressure that was
gradual, cumulative, and resistless; and the future was to prove the
wisdom of the words of Mollien: "England waged a warfare of modern
times; Napoleon, that of ancient times. There are times and cases when
an anachronism is fatal."
Moreover, at the very time when the Emperor was about to complete his
great experiment by subduing Sweden and preparing for the partition of
Turkey, it sustained a fatal shock by the fierce rising of the Spanish
people against his usurped authority.
* * * * *