It is not a dream of perpetual peace that is being realized, but rather this can be approached with more correspondence to the results it augurs, if in the treaty that would terminate the general war we would manage to fix (based on clear and precise principles) some prescriptions for the rights of peoples. Why not include the positive rights of nations, ensure the privilege of neutrality, and insert the obligation to never begin a war unless mediation by a third party has been exhausted, in a way we could highlight respective complaints and try to resolve them? It is on similar principles that one might proceed to general peace and give birth to a league whose stipulations would form, so to speak, a new code of law among peoples, which when sanctioned by the majority of the states of Europe would painlessly become the immutable rule of governments, particularly since those who wanted to infringe that code would bring down on themselves the forces of the new union.50
This passage seems important to me. First, it reflects the moral dimension of the combat in which the tsar was engaging. Alexander was in fact proposing to all of Europe a geopolitical system that would vanquish the Napoleonic system precisely because it would respect the rights of nation and the rights of peoples. This points to a radical change of perspective, if not a mental and political revolution. Until the end of the eighteenth century, Russian leaders have been permanently obliged to demonstrate their quest for “European-ness” and to submit to the “European model.” After 1804 not only was Alexander not trying to demonstrate that his empire was European (which appeared evident to him), but the tsar of Russia was now capable of proposing to Europe an overall political project. This is how far Russian power had come in a few years.
As striking is the modernity of Alexander’s European project. His concept was of a peace league of European nations in which recourse to mediation and negotiation would be systematic, where each would respect a certain number of common political values. Later in the document is the timid allusion to the constitution of a military force that would unite the forces of various nations adhering to the league. All this suggests a visionary approach that prefigures the attempts that would take place during the twentieth century.
On top of these principled geopolitical considerations came more concrete ideas. Alexander first insists on the need to establish the new states inside their natural geographic limits,51 to make sure they are composed of “homogenous peoples.” Here we find not only ideas pronounced by Czartoryski but also the influence of the thinking of Joseph de Maistre, who in his Political Memorandum on Italy and the Houses of Austria and Savoy (the second half of 1804) insisted on the need to constrain France to return to its ancient territorial limits without annihilating it, which would be contrary to the European (which for him meant “Christian”) order. This text circulated among those close to the tsar and was then read by Alexander himself. In fact, by the end of 1804, de Maistre was frequenting Kochubey and Czartoryski; in January 1805 the diplomat noted that his memorandum was communicated to the tsar “by a friendly hand outside official channels.”52
Once European states were formed in this way, then a “natural equilibrium” would have to be sought, and for that, alongside the existing great powers, “second order states” would have to be created to serve as counterweight. The notions of equilibrium and counterpower have importance in Alexander’s analysis: it is from this perspective that we must regard his position in favor of the constitution of a federation of German principalities independent of Austria and Prussia:
It is evident that the existence of too many small states will not accord with the goal being proposed, since having no intrinsic strength, they will serve only as bait and means to ambition, without being of any utility to the general good. We cannot remedy this disadvantage except by gathering them into larger states or else by forming federating unions among the small ones. The need to encircle France and to form counterweights to Austria and Prussia demands that these considerations should not be forgotten relative to Italy, and principally with regard to Germany.53
Thus, on the political as well as the geopolitical levels, the tsar of Russia laid out in his Instructions to Novosiltsev an ambitious project for reconstructing Europe. However, this project would receive a lukewarm reception in London.
•••
Arriving in London at the start of November 1804, the tsar’s secret emissary stayed until February 1805. For these three months Novosiltsev tried to convince the British authorities of the interest and pertinence of Alexander’s projects. In his memoirs Prince Czartoryski gives a harsh verdict of this mission, making Novosiltsev largely responsible for its failure.
M. de Novosiltzow found M. Pitt very little prepared to listen to our proposals, and solely preoccupied with his own point of view on the affairs of Europe. [Ambassador] Count Simon, in his admiration of the narrow system of the English cabinet, was always ready to combat the modifications we wanted to introduce. Either due to the difficulties that resulted from this state of affairs, or for other motives, M. Novosiltzow did not acquit himself in a suitable way of this important mission, which required much prudence and reserve but also great firmness in following the instructions that he had been given. He barely stammered the conditions to which we attached the greatest importance, he did not mention the name of Poland, and made no mention of the precarious state of Europe, caused by the iniquities that had to be redressed.54
What really happened? At the start of his mission, Novosiltsev had been optimistic, convinced that he would reach success in a short period of time. Three weeks after his arrival, he wrote in a report to the tsar (dated December 4) that he thought “very easy to obtain the consent of the English minister to all the principles that Your Very Gracious Majesty counts on adopting as the basis for directing this new alliance.”55 Meanwhile, in St. Petersburg the tsar continued to grant crucial importance to this mission, as attested in the letter Czartoryski sent to the emissary on December 9:
We need you to give us good news. This expectation is the only thing in which our Master still has the same interest. He always repeats: “We will see what Novosiltsov sends us; we have to wait for his news.” In a word, it is up to you to lift our spirits. If the English have—I will not say generous and exalted sentiments—any common sense, they will necessarily have to lend themselves to everything and share our ideas, for otherwise it will not work and the emperor will do only what he is absolutely forced to, and against his feelings.56
But Novosiltsev ran up against the distrust of the British prime minister, who suspected the Russian Empire of imperialist aims on the Ottoman Empire and who therefore refused to discuss any plan for dismemberment or a protectorate that would turn to the advantage of Russia. Even more, Novosiltsev ran up against the skepticism expressed by Pitt for any Russian project for a European system.
Indeed, Pitt did share part of the geopolitical analysis. In the interview he granted Ambassador Vorontsov in December 1804, for example, he affirmed the need “to surround a France reintegrated into its former frontiers with great and powerful states”; like Alexander, he wanted to achieve this by the creation of a federation of Italian states.57
Similarly, judging that Napoleon “has annihilated the rights of peoples,” the British prime minister declared himself in favor of this right being guaranteed by an “association of states” that would be under the protection of Russia and England. However, Pitt was not ready to go so far as signing a peace treaty imposing on member states any precise rules of conduct. In his meeting of December 25 with Novosiltsev, he was dubious about a league, stressing that “the nation that feels offended and at the same time sufficiently strong, will always be little inclined to conform to the decision of a third power.”58 Therefore he merely gave vague acquiescence to the idea of defining “the prescription of international conduct in an exact and positive manner in the form of a new code of international law,”59 but without stating anything about the content of this code. This distrust largely compromised the “European security” part o
f Alexander’s project, which resulted in only a relatively classic military alliance.
A first version of the convention was elaborated at the end of January 1805, and a Russian-Swedish treaty of military alliance was also concluded. The final text of the British-Russian convention, written by Novosiltsev and taking Pitt’s positions into account, was signed on April 11, 1805, in St. Petersburg by the British ambassador at the Russian court. But despite the triumphalism proclaimed by Novosiltsev, the content was disappointing in relation to the initial project. In exchange for 115,000 soldiers that Russia promised to launch into the struggle against Napoleon, Britain promised to finance the war effort to the tune of 1,250,000 pounds sterling for each hundred thousand Russian or Austrian soldiers involved in the conflict and to participate in the war with naval and land forces. Moreover, conforming to Russian wishes, several secret clauses did lay out the geopolitical reconstruction of Europe, foreseeing the return of France to its former frontiers, the reestablishment of the independence of states occupied by Napoleon, and territorial compensation for Prussia and Austria. But the other elements in Alexander’s project were carefully eluded or postponed: for the British prime minister the time was ripe for realpolitik, not for utopia.
At the same time, in March 1805, Napoleon proclaimed himself king of Italy, and Genoa and Lucca were annexed by France. More and more worried, the emperor of Austria rallied to the Russian/British alliance, with a promise from Alexander to increase his effective troops: now it was not 115,000 but 180,000 troops that the tsar agreed to throw into the war against Napoleon. On June 4, 1805, in Vienna, a military plan of action was adopted by the three powers that set the number of combatants that Austria and Russia should engage (250,000 and 180,000 respectively) plus 100,000 Prussians, 16,000 Swedes, 16,000 Danes, 35,000 Germans from various principalities and provinces, 20,000 Neapolitans and 5,000 British—for a total of almost 622,000 men. On August 9 a treaty of alliance was signed by the Austrian ambassador to St. Petersburg, Count Stadion, but in August Prussia chose to remain outside the alliance that was taking shape and to proclaim its neutrality in the coming conflict; the king did not want Russia to be too strong and was distrustful of Russian aims over Prussian Poland. These hesitations did not prevent the diplomatic and military network from being woven. In September 1805 an alliance was approved between Russia and the Kingdom of Two Sicilies, and in October a treaty was sealed between Britain and Sweden. That autumn the third coalition against Napoleon was in place and war was already on the way. Alexander mourned the demise of his pacifist aims.
PART THREE
THE NAPOLEONIC WARS
1805–1815
CHAPTER 8
From the First Military Fiascos to the Tilsit Agreements
1805–1807
The years from 1805 to 1807 were particularly intense in the European theater. But while Alexander spared no effort either on the military or diplomatic level, success eluded him: in less than two years, one of the pillars of the third coalition had to sign the “humiliating” Peace of Tilsit, arousing among his entourage a combination of incomprehension, disapproval, and anger, ending a particularly difficult period in his life.
From the Third Coalition to the Austerlitz Disaster
After having solemnly passed in review the regiments of his Guard on the eve of their departure on campaign (August 22), Alexander announced his intention to join the theater of operations. For him, a sovereign should be close to his army. On September 21, after long meditation in Our Lady of Kazan Cathedral, the emperor left the capital accompanied by Counts Tolstoy, Lieven, and Volkonsky (the latter were generals and aides-de-camp) and his faithful advisors, Czartoryski, Stroganov, and Novosiltsev.
After eight days’ travel toward the western frontier of the empire, Alexander halted for two weeks at Pulawy, the family estate of the Czartoryskis, situated on the Vistula River, in Austrian Poland. Meanwhile, two Russian armies headed west: one of 50,000 men (later assigned to Mikhail Kutuzov) was to gather on the southwest frontier to meet up with the Austrian troops; the other of 90,000 men commanded by General Michelson was supposed to go to the border with Prussian Pomerania and prepare if necessary to invade Prussia.
Back in St. Petersburg the court was split. Several of the Anglophiles close to the tsar were proving patriotic and bellicose, including some of the central administrators and diplomats in post across Europe: Vorontsov in London, Razumovsky in Vienna, Tatishchev in Naples, and Italinski in Constantinople. Even the placid Elizabeth got carried away by her visceral love for Russia in a letter to her mother:
At present, mama, I admit that I feel strongly in my entrails for Russia, which, whatever pleasure I would have at re-seeing Germany […], I would be desolate to leave Russia forever. And if by some imaginary circumstance, I found myself isolated and mistress of choosing where to live it is to Russia that I would go.1
On the other hand, others—out of Francophilia (as with Count Rostopchin) or else the desire to preserve Russia’s diplomatic and military independence (the argument of ministers such as those for trade (Rumyantsev), education (Zavadovski), and justice (Lopukhin)—were hostile to the involvement. Prince Kurakin, a member of the permanent council, shared this view: the vital interests of the empire were not being threatened, and Russia should remain outside the conflict that was on the horizon. For everyone, anyway, the war to come was still a distant abstraction that was not injuring either the French presence or cultural prestige in Russia. In November 1805, Stephan Zhiharev, a young Moscow civil servant wrote in his journal, noting an astonishing paradox.
And while we are combating the French abroad, the French here stage various comedies and entertain Moscow as if nothing was happening. Never has the French theater seen so many spectators as gathered for the soirée organized for the benefit of Madame Sérigny and Monsieur Rose. It is true that the theater is not very large, but it was full; they performed the comedy in three acts called Conjectures or the Makers of News.2
At Pulawy the parties, balls, and receptions multiplied, rumors flew around, buoyed by the amiable attitude of the sovereign. Polish dignitaries thought they had won him around to the idea dear to Czartoryski that once victory over Napoleon was achieved, Russia would be able to proclaim and guarantee (under its protection) the independence of Poland. But in reality, cultivating a certain ambiguity, Alexander made no real promises. He had several irons in the fire.
Meanwhile, the international crisis was beginning in Germany. At the start of October, 20,000 French soldiers left Hanover (occupied by Napoleon)3 in the direction of the Danube, violating Prussian neutrality by crossing the territory of Anspach; the tsar announced his intention to leave Pulawy to go to Berlin without stopping at Warsaw. Polish patriots interpreted this declaration as the death knell of their hopes: how could the emperor, leaving for Berlin to try to form an alliance, still be working to establish a state that Prussia did not want? Everybody in Pulawy bitterly deplored what seemed a cruel volte-face, if not a betrayal. In reality, as of September and unbeknownst to Prince Czartoryski, Alexander had sent to Berlin his aide-de-camp Prince Peter Dolgoruki to secretly negotiate with the king of Prussia. The latter was hesitant at first, preferring to keep his distance from France as well as from Russia and Great Britain, to the point that Dolgoruki sent pessimistic dispatches back to the emperor. But the violation of Anspach abruptly changed the situation: on October 4, furious that the neutrality of Prussia had been flouted even when relations between France and Prussia were supposed to be excellent, Frederick-Wilhelm III authorized Russian troops to cross his territory and announced his intention to rejoin the coalition. It was this decision that motivated Alexander’s reaction: for the tsar, Prussia was the keystone of the arrangement for linking up the allied troops and therefore the king’s new moves should be encouraged.
Alexander I arrived in Berlin on October 13 and was warmly received. But soon the first military reversals occurred. The next day Austrian troops were attacked on the Danube and defea
ted; on the nineteenth General Mack, trapped in Ulm, capitulated with his 32,000 men, which allowed the Grande Armée to advance across German territory. In this threatening context an agreement between Russia and Prussia became an absolute priority. On November 3 in Potsdam, diplomats Hardenberg and Haugwitz for Prussia and Czartoryski, Alopeus, and Dolgoruki for Russia wrote a treaty4 providing for a one-month ultimatum; Prussia, the so-called mediator between members of the third coalition and France, would demand that the latter renounce some of its German conquests (which Napoleon would find unacceptable) or else Prussia would engage in the conflict with 180,000 men. In exchange for this Prussian support, Alexander I agreed in a secret article to recognize Prussia’s right to annex Hanover. This article was a violation of the agreement between Russia and Great Britain concluded in St. Petersburg on April 11, 1805, which had called for Hanover’s independence, but for Alexander that was the price of Prussia’s support. And to better secure his privileged tie to the Hohenzollern dynasty, on the initiative of Queen Louise and in her presence, Tsar Alexander and King Frederick-Wilhelm took an oath by torchlight on the night of November 3 in front of the tomb of the great Frederick II.
The sudden capitulation of General Mack, when Kutuzov was still 270 kilometers from Ulm, compromised any idea of a military junction and devastated the initial plans of the coalition partners. Appointed general in command of allied forces, Kutuzov was immediately confronted with a dilemma: as supreme commander of the armies against Napoleon, he should defend Vienna, threatened by the progress of the Grande Armée, but as a Russian general, he must spare his own army as best he could.5 On October 25, suspecting that the Austrian army that had begun a fighting retreat from Vienna was contemplating an armistice, he decided to withdraw to Enns, covered by the rearguard of Bagration, and then to Durenstein,6 where on November 10–11 he attacked unsuccessfully the troops of General Mortier. He reached Olmütz shortly afterward and found there, apart from the still-intact Austrian troops (about 15,000 men), his emperor, for Alexander had arrived the previous week. But the atmosphere was more than morose: “I was astonished like all the other generals at the coldness and mournful silence with which our troops received the emperor,”7 wrote Langeron, a French general who was in the service of Russia. This was because these troops—poorly equipped, shod, and fed—had been confronted with the greatest material difficulties. Lacking everything, the Russian army was undisciplined, on top of which relations between Russian and Austrian soldiers were execrable. The understanding between the two allies appeared very fragile.
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